The Battle for an Age Forgotten

In the land of Rudeigin, Kings and Queens rise and fall, ushering in new eras and cycling between tyranny and peace.

King Nathair has ruled the gorgeous, prosperous land for ages now, unchanging and unmoved, his selfish deeds and policies slowly spoiling it's beauty. Fate itself has appeared stagnant in the hands of destiny.

After a rebellion broke out and charged the keep in Cagailt, everyone thought things would finally change. However, the attempt failed and things returned to how it had been for many years, lethargic and stifling.




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Nearly half a century later, a faint glow has been perpetually shining from the peak of Mount Anam with no explanation as to why. Some say it is a sheet of snow and ice that simply hasn't melted while others, who are often not believed, say it's magic. But whatever it is begins to glow brighter with each passing day, and that, no one can ignore. Not even the scholars who blame it on the shifting of the suns' positions as the path to the top of the mountain is too dangerous now to properly investigate.

Things are changing once more in the land of Rudeigin. Everyone can feel it. From the way the winds have lessened and the stillness on the surface of ponds, the world seems as if to be holding its breath.

Rudeigin

Spoiler

Once upon a time, there was a rich and plentiful land, a small continent long ago broken off from the rest of the world. Only a voyage by boat could access this land which it's inhabitants called Rudeigin. The land prospered for centuries under the rule and influence of families in different regions, families who had staked their claim and had lived there almost as long as the land was old. Each family respected the other and Rudeigin was at peace for hundreds of years. That is, until the Redbanes rose from the ashes of an almost dead family line. They had been forgotten of as for many years their line of descendants had been nothing but daughters until one day a son, Adranus, was born. He was kept secret from the world, taught to be powerful and terrible and told Rudeigin was his for the taking.

Rudeigin: Adranus' Reign

Spoiler

Years later, on the first red dawn of Autumn, Adranus was released upon the world. He had gathered a force of warriors, bound to him through oath, and forced his claim upon Rudeigin. Any who did not submit learned to fear his wrath and greed, fueled by the promise of power. Farms were razed to the ground and cities set up in flames as Adranus took each and every part of the land for his own, not stopping until he had wiped every other ancient family out of existence. From there, he enslaved the citizens to work for him, and they had no choice as he had taken all of their food for the coming winter. Years upon years, he ruled Rudeigin with an iron fist, showing no mercy to its citizens. Even children were forced to work simply to satisfy his mounting greed. He had the land but now he wanted even more. He wanted to live better then a king; he wanted to live like a god.

Rudeigin: Kaladin's Reign

Spoiler

However, this story isn't about Abranus, King of Rudeigin. No, this story is about a child. A boy lived in Adranus' castle, the child of a servant, Kaladin. He watched as Adranus' sons played and grew, just like himself. They were kept separate, no matter how they seemed the same. Once Kaladin was older, he tried to speak to them but was quickly caught and after that, ripped from his home and sent to work in the mines to the south. This was one of the worst fates he could have faced as the mines were unforgiving with the dry atmosphere and hard labor, the land around completely desertified from the industry. Years he worked in the mines as punishment, living off of meager meals and hard work, but it made him strong and resilient. He met others of similar origin there; those who had made meager attempts at rebellion or understanding and had been sent to live the same fate. He befriended them and acted as their leader, taking punishment for them and training with them in secret so that when they got out, they could combat the injustice they had suffered. They formed unbreakable bonds together and once the time was right, made their escape. He led them on the run for years, strengthening them and collecting weapons and supplies, waiting, plotting, planning. In this time, several more comrades had joined until there were twelve all together, all loyal to each other to a fault.
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A red dawn appeared once more on the autumn day that marked the anniversary of Adranus' kingship. One that would bring his reign to an end. The twelve, with Kaladin leading the way, marched to Adranus' castle gates. Not a single guard made a move to stop them, recognizing the bright eyed boy now fire hardened from challenge after challenge. Upon his demand, the guards even opened the gates, allowing them to pass into the castle grounds where they were met by Adranus' warriors of oath; formidable opponents no matter how much time had aged them. A long battle ensured and even though Adranus' warriors were strong, they did not have their leader. They were disorganized and unprepared meanwhile Kaladin knew exactly what he was doing. This is what he had trained and what he had trained his comrades for. They moved as in tandem, knowing exactly what the others would do and even though there were quite a few wounds and close calls, luckily nothing was fatal. The warriors of oath were defeated and the twelve moved deeper into the castle in search of Adranus and his sons. Seeing what had happened, the guard had abandoned their posts, leaving Adranus' three sons to be the only thing between him and the twelve warriors out for justice. Heartbroken by what they knew had to happen, the sons dropped their weapons, knowing well that they were outnumbered and that they had lost. Even though the sons had always had everything they could ever want, as they grew older, they knew where it came from and why. Their father had kept them sheltered inside the castle in an attempt to make them like him but they had found out anyway.
In the end, the sons turned on their father and let Kaladin, alone, into his chambers. Fate teetered on the edge of a knife in the suspenseful moments of silence on the other side of the door. Soon enough, Kaladin emerged once more. The deed had been done and Adranus' reign was ended once and for all.
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Over the years, from the ashes of Adranus' reign, Rudeigin was slowly rebuilt. The citizens were released from their bonds and the twelve were seen as great heroes as they traveled from place to place, repairing the damage that had been done. Between them, they split the land into six pieces, two of them going to watch over each part. Kaladin took the center with the help of his best friend Lonán, however, instead of making the Keep theirs to live in and a place to rule from, they turned it into a chancery, a place for the twelve to meet in times of need and a base of operations. The city around quickly turned into a bustling metropolis and the land was plentiful and peaceful once more under the twelve's protection.

Rudeigin: Nathair's Reign and Current Situation

Spoiler

Like all things though, the era of heroes eventually came to an end. Old age wore on the heroes until there were eventually none left and all were laid to rest in a grand tomb at the top of the highest peak, where their spirits could continue to watch over the land.
As soon as they were gone though, the corruption began once more, this time with a new power-hungry tyrant, Nathair. Unlike Adranus though, he did not take the world by force; he took it quietly, without turmoil or disturbance. Like a thief in the night. He could twist his words and manipulate like no other, using this to gain traction and footing in high places until he reached a place in the Court of Rudeigin, a group that had been founded to lead the land after the heroes passed. With his silver tongue, he eventually convinced the Court they needed a true ruler and placed himself in that position, becoming the new king of Rudeigin.
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Under Nathair's rule, the land slowly began to suffer once more. Poverty struck many of the once flourishing towns and cities to fuel Nathair's selfish goals. With his rule, he placed trusted individuals in places of power, knowing they would follow his directions to the letter. He gave them just enough for them to live comfortably as long as he got what he wanted but not enough for them to take good care of the people. As things got harder, Nathair feared revolution so he tore down the now ancient golden statues of the heroes to smother any ideas and melted them down into bars of gold to pay debts across seas. Or so he said...
Things got easier for the people from then on, but only for a period of time, just long enough for the people to forget about Nathair's crimes, and then it got hard again.
And so this cycle continued, one crime after another as Nathair sought to destroy the past. The people living hard lives with short periods of ease yet still struggling, unless they were part of Nathair's circle.
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Soon enough, a small group of rebels formed and tried to overthrow Nathair. But they failed. When they arrived at the castle with fire in their hearts, the guards let them in, just like they had the heroes of old. However this time, they turned on them and the planned revolution turned into a one sided massacre. Only a single rebel managed to escape, and in a desperate last attempt to remove Nathair from power, she alone secretly climbed to the top of the tallest peak in the land and completed a ritual in the hopes to call the spirits of the heroes back to the land of the living before succumbing to her wounds.
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Nathiar, with his silver tongue, wove his words to put the rebellion in a violent, criminal light, portraying them as villians and enemies of the people. He once again made life a easier for the citizens of the land and so the incident was forgotten of.
He continues to live an already unnaturally long life and it was forgotten just how long he had ruled for, twisting the land and people to his will just alike his words.
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The brave rebel however, did not die in vain. At the peak of the mountain, the ritual worked, calling the spirits of the heroes back. Now, it is up to you to carry on their legacy.

Character Template

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age (18-30):[/b]
[b]Gender/Pronouns:[/b]
[b]Spirit:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Backstory:[/b]
[b]Location of Origin:[/b]
[b]Magic User? (Y/N)[/b]
[b]Shipping (Y/N) /Sexuality:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b]

Magic user slots: 2/2

1. Kaladin the Leader Spirit - @RangerofIthilien
2. Lonán the Loyal Spirit - @JazzicusMaximus
3. Varen the Practical Spirit - @JazzicusMaximus
4. Thalor the Brave Spirit - @Valkyria
5. Sarkan the Cold Spirit - @WeepingWisteria
6. Roland the Diplomatic Spirit - @RavenAkuma
7. Ianthe the Gentle Spirit - @Spearmint
8. Bathildis the Ruthless Spirit - @soundofmind
9. Scylla the Cunning Spirit - @WeepingWisteria
10. Aleta the Honest Spirit - @RangerofIthilien
11. Myrna the Bold Spirit - @RangerofIthilien
12. Taryn the Adventurous Spirit - @soundofmind

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Over the past week or so you've been hearing whispers, soft voices in your ears. Sometimes they are gentle, other times it almost sounds as if they're bickering back and forth. But whenever you turn around, there's no one there and the voices are gone. However, they always come back at night when everything is silent. As soon as the clock strikes three in the morning, the voices get louder, loud enough where you can almost make out the words...

One day, the voices are gone entirely, which was a little odd as you had almost gotten used to them. Whether you happened to notice it or not, the faint glow that had been atop Mount Aman for the past few decades was gone as well...

That is anyway, until three in the morning.

It was the first peaceful, undisturbed night you had had in days and you were fast asleep like most are at that time. The wind picks up, coming oddly enough not from the north like usual as the minutes tick by until the hour arrives.

That's when the light explodes from the top of Mount Aman, sending a beam of glowing white to the sky.

The phenomena lasted only moments but it was long enough to wake you up from your slumber and look to the mountain in startled awe. After it was gone, everything was dark and silent again, the wind from before calming.

A wave of memories washed through your mind as soon as the light disappeared, however, none of them were yours. Images of places you had never been to and people you had never met flooded your vision before a quiet and familiar voice spoke, just one this time, and the visions cleared. This time the voice was crystal clear and you could hear every word, as if the person who spoke stood right beside you.

I've had my eyes on you for quiet some time but worry not, I mean you no harm. You show promise and have what it takes to be a hero. It's time for you to carry on my legacy. You must not fail...

Stars twinkled in the dark sky far above, casting faint light over the mountainous land. On the edges of the tall peaks, in the heath covered moors, a girl slept soundly under the sheltering branches of a lone hawthorn tree. Her head laid on her pack, her long flaxen hair brighter then the dying summer grass.

A gentle breeze rustled the dry blades around her that made her bed and dappled sunlight filtered through the slowly falling red leaves above her onto her face as dawn coloured the sky. They whispered to her, in their own ways, beckoning for her to wake. However, she did not head their summons and continued to sleep peacefully, feeling at home in the wild.

That was, until a proper voice joined the whispers of the wind and the warmth of the sunlight. It spoke in her ear, sounding right beside her, a bit louder then the kind, soft noises of nature around her.

"It's high time to get up now, don't you think?"

While the voice was firm but gentle, it still caused Valeska to wake up with a start, startling the birds in the branches above. She wasn't used to hearing voices as soon as she woke up from spending most of her time in the wild and even though she had been hearing the spirit's whispers for almost a week, it certainly wasn't the same as this.

Her icy blue eyes quickly glanced around the area, searching for whoever had spoken before the memories from that night rushed back to her. Memories of battle, of injustice and justice in return, of nights around the campfire with friends. Memories that weren't hers. And then there were the ones that were hers. The voice explaining who it was, telling her not to fear it, the same voice that spoke to her now. The only problem, was she couldn't remember its name.

"Sorry, who are you again?"

"I'm Kaladin." He said patiently before continuing. "Previous king of Rudeigin. Meadhan specifically."

"That's right..." Valeska nodded slowly before laying back down and closing her eyes again. "And no, I really think I could use some more sleep after how late you kept me up last night."

"You have a big day ahead of you and many miles to transverse. It would be smart to get going as soon as possible."

"Five more minutes..."

"You're supposed to be the leader of the group, Valeska." He said disapprovingly. "How are you going to lead them if you ask for five more minutes every time you have to get up?"

"I'm not the leader though, you are."

"Think of it as you're my apprentice."

With a heavy sigh, Valeska sat up again, knowing even if she tried to go back to sleep, he wasn't going to leave her alone. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before moving the thin wool blanket that kept her warm on cold nights off of herself to start going about her day.

Kaladin apparently took this movement as an opportunity to begin explaining the plan for the day as she worked. "We still have quite a few miles to go, we're not even out of Gaeta-Tuath yet and the plan is to reach Aiteach. There's a town there called Crois-Rathaid and there you will be meeting the rest at a tavern and inn called A Good Knight's Rest. If we're lucky, we should be able to make it to Gleann or close to there around noon then make the days trek to Crois-Rathaid."

Valeska listened while folding her blanket and tucking it in her pack once more. "Okay, so just make it to Gleann and you'll let me rest for the night?" She asked.

"As long as you don't attract the attention of any officials there then yes."

Valeska nodded a bit. "Alright, thanks."

She really didn't like how Kaladin was telling her where to go or what to do. Typically she had the freedom to do what she wanted and went and did according to what felt right and what would be best for her goats. But she didn't have her goats anymore. After so many years of doing what was best for those who depended on her, her path before her seemed obscured, the needle of her wayfinding compass spinning in circles. It had never been what was right for her before. Only what was right for those that depended on her. Maybe Kaladin wasn't so bad after all.

Either way though, what else was she going to do? Kaladin clearly wasn't leaving anytime soon and if she didn't do as she said, she had a feeling she would never get any sleep.

Valeska continued to busy herself around her little camp, putting away things while simultaneously taking other things out, particularly cooking supplies. There was no way she was going to leave to Gleann without eating breakfast. Kaladin would have to deal with it.

After starting a fire and beginning to cook oats, she went about gathering hawthorn berries from the laden branches above her and cutting them to extract the seeds. Once finished, she tossed the seeds aside and dropped the berries into her still cooking oats, but not before happily popping a couple of the miniature tart fruits into her mouth.

Soon enough her oatmeal was done and she sat with her back to the thick trunk of the hawthorn tree to enjoy what it had partially provided for her. The meal was delicious, the warm oats combating the chill of the cool Autumn morning and the hawthorn berries giving it a pleasant taste of apples and cranberries.

However, her enjoyment didn't last long before Kaladin decided to pipe up again. "Every minute you spend here, you get less and less daylight to make it to Gleann."

"I can't exactly go a long distance without eating at least something." Valeska reasoned. "Please just let me finish my oatmeal in peace and then once I clean the dishes we can go."

"Fine but the longer you take, the longer you'll have to walk through the night."

"We're really not that far." Valeska sighed as she finished her meal.

"Then we should be able to get there easily. I can't say the same for getting to Aiteach."

Valeska scrubbed the pots and dishes before tucking them nicely back in her pack. "We will get there." And that was final.

She cleaned up the rest of her small campsite before carefully combing and braiding her flaxen hair back. That was her usual style whenever she traveled was to put her hair back in a braid. It kept the leaves out of it, especially when she had to go hunting through bushes to find a lost goat.

All of a sudden, the strong urge to get on the road coursed through her, motivation to keep going no matter what. It was the same feeling she got when she used to cross a mountain pass with her goats to get them to fresh water and she looked across the dale. The feeling that people depended on her and she would do anything to lead them to safty and shelter.

However, this feeling wasn't truly hers. There was no one who relied on her right now. She was alone... Except for Kaladin.

Valeska shuddered from the alien feeling before an accusatory frown crossed her features and she crossed her arms, stopping what she was doing. "Kaladin?"

"Yes?"

"That was you, wasn't it?"

"That was me trying to get you moving now that everything is ready to go. You're not making much progress as of right now."

Valeska sighed. "Well it's more trouble then help right now so please don't do it again."

Kaladin gave no response so with another sigh and a shake of her head, she went about packing as many of the delicious hawthorn berries into a pouch at her side as she could. Best to have a snack for the road as she wan't sure if Kaladin would let her stop for a meal with how much he was nagging already. It probably also didn't help that she was arguing with him either.

Once that was done, she took up her pack and hoisted it onto her back before setting foot on the small trail that led west.

"Okay, we're leaving now. Happy?"

A feeling on contentment washed over her, causing her to shudder once more and sigh. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Papa!" Heart called.

Fallen leaves and pine needles crunched under his feet as he ran towards the porch, where Killian stood by the smoker, checking on the carp under the hood. The hot coals kept the porch warm within a small radius, but as night fell, the temperatures began to drop. Heart kept warm in his coat, but it was too big for him.

Perhaps, a year from now, he'd grow into it. For now, Heart's hands drowned in the ends of his sleeves as he came up to Killian, grabbing onto his leg.

"What is it?" Killian asked, kneeling down to meet him.

"I caught a cricket," Heart said.

"A cricket," Killian said with amusement. He reached for Heart's hands, feeling one was held in a fist. Compulsively, he rolled Heart's sleeves up for the fifth time that day. For whatever reason, they wouldn't stay.

"Yes, a cricket," Heart said, holding up his closed fist, now revealed. His little hand chirped, and Killian placed his hands around Heart's.

"You're not going to bring it inside, are you?" Killian asked, watching his son with a knowing look.

"No, sir," Heart lied.

"Because you know Auntie Ess hates crickets," Killian went on, searching his boy's eyes expectantly.

Heart's eyes went big as he played innocent, but the coy smile curling on his lips betrayed his ploy. Killian raised a brow, tilting his head to the side.

"Let it go, Heart," he said.

"But papa!" Heart whined, bouncing on his knees. "I want a pet!"

"You had a pet," Killian reminded him, though he didn't want to rehash the lost frog lesson, in which Heart lost said frog in less than a day after taking it on a walk. "I told you. When you turn seven, we'll talk about getting you a cat. It'll pay its dues by eating the mice, and you'll be in charge of feeding it. Until then, no pets."

Heart held his pleading gaze for a few more seconds, peering up at Killian through his dark curls. Holding his stare, Heart finally relented with a pout and a sigh, opening his hand inside his father's. The cricket chirped free, now caught between Killian's palms.

Killian stepped to the edge of the porch, and the old wooden boards creaked under his weight as he knelt back down, lowering his hands to the browned grass and the fall leaves that pooled at the base. Gently, he opened his hands, and the cricket leaped out, quick to disappear into the underbrush.

Heart plopped down on the edge of the porch beside him, still pouting. Killian took a moment to sit beside him as they looked out at the lake.

Though little Heart's mind was set on disappointments, Killian found himself enjoying the brief moment of silence as the sun began to crest its way to the horizon, dipping behind the veil of the evergreens and painting the Usige with its rays. The water danced with flicks of orange and yellow, and the last of the fishing boats were coming into their docks as small shadows along the water.

Heart leaned his head against Killian's side.

"Do you think he'll find his way home?" Heart asked.

Killian reached around Heart, pulling him close. He ruffled Heart's hair.

"I bet he knows the way," Killian said softly. "That's the nice thing about the beasts of the land. Instinct always draws them home. I'm sure it'll be back with its family in no time."

Heart hummed, crawling into Killian's lap.

"My instincts take me home, too," he said, flopping back into Killian's stomach.

Killian chuckled.

"Your instincts always take you to the kitchen," Killian teased.

"Only when I'm hungry!" Heart said with a laugh, looking up at him.

"Which a growing boy should be," Killian said, tapping the tip of Heart's nose.

Heart let out another contented huff as he leaned back again, but their moment was cut short when the back door flew open, and Killian looked over his shoulder to see his sister standing in the doorway with one hand on her hip. Her hair was tied up in a long scarf that ran over her shoulders, and she wore several layers over her ankle-length dress. The mustard sweater was one their mother made years ago, and now holes were worn into the edges from snags and pulls. It had been passed down from sister to sister until it made it to Ana.

"Is the fish ready?" Ana asked, looking impatient, and hungry.

Killian hummed, picking Heart up off his lap and setting him on his feet.

"Just about," he said, returning to the smoker. Heart trailed close behind.

"Good," Ana said. "Ma's asking for you in the kitchen."

"I'll be right in."

And, like most nights, the whole family came together for their meal. When Killian was a child, he remembered spending cramped evenings in his parent's living room. Children sat on the floor, their grandparents at the table, and the parents got the couches. Now, the same tradition continued, just one generation less. His grandparents on both sides passed when he was still a teenager, and now the room was filled to the brim with the next generation of Wests, Boones, and Thornes. Isith, the eldest sister, had been the first to marry before Killian, and she'd had a whole litter of children that followed. Jackie and Molli followed suit, each with two littles of their own, all between five and six months. Heart was eagerly gathered into the fold of his cousins, and Killian found his mother in the kitchen with the fish.

Turned out she just wanted help lifting a pan out of the oven, which he was happy to do to help get dinner started.

As the family gathered together, the small house filled with the smell of cornbread, beans, and smoked fish. Canned green beans had been made into a casserole, and somehow, like every other night, everyone had enough to eat and every dish was scraped clean.

Cleaning the kitchen was always an assembly line of work, hip to hip by the sink and along the counter, as his siblings worked together to scrub every dish clean, sweep the floors, and clear the slate for tomorrow. By the time chatter died down and everything was put back in its place, it was well into the night, and Killian finally found Heart among his cousins, curled up on the couch, fast asleep.

Scooping him up in his arms, Killian made his way out as the last to leave. His youngest sisters Lesandra, Essa, and Ana - who still lived at home - bit their farewells with fond half-hugs and kisses, careful not to disturb the sleeping Heart in Killian's arms.

Fortunately, the walk home was never long, and as he stepped into his cottage at the end of the street, the quiet of the night finally filled his small home.

Being with his family was always a bit like a storm but in the best way. It was busy, it was loud, and it was never boring: but he found himself ready to escape it when the day was over.

Holding Heart to his chest, Killian one-handedly searched for a match, striking it and lighting the lamp by the door.

It was enough light for their one-roomed cottage. Between him and Heart, the space was more than enough, even if it still felt empty these days.

As quietly as possible, Killian gingerly set Heart down on the bed by the wall, taking off Heart's shoes and socks while his little boy slept like a rock. Not wanting to disturb him, Killian decided to let Heart sleep in his coat for the night, knowing his sisters would frown upon it, but he didn't want to move Heart now that he was finally out.

Heart always had trouble sleeping.

His parents said it was just a phase of life, and his sisters were convinced Heart would start sleeping soundly when he grew more confident, but Killian remembered when Hallie was still around. As a baby, Heart was so quick to fall asleep in her arms. He'd been the easiest baby Killian had ever seen. He'd often slept through the night, which had been a miracle, and a gift in the early months of parenthood.

But ever since Hallie's passing, something just... changed.

Heart was too young to remember his mother, but something inside him still clung to the memory of her comfort. And now, even three years later, the four-year-old boy could only fall asleep in the comfort of his family's company or the assurance of his father's arms.

Killian worried that he wouldn't grow out of the need so easily, as much as he fought to fill the gap left by Hallie's absence.

With a heavy sigh, Killian sat on the small stool by their bedside, slipping off his own shoes before he quickly changed into his bedclothes. Climbing onto the bed, he tucked Heart under the covers beside him, falling asleep not long after his head hit the bed.

He woke with a start, though, when a flash of light burst in the distant view of the window.

His heart racing, Killian slowly turned his head to look at the window near the base of the bed. The thin curtains were parted open, and though the burst of light he'd seen behind his eyelids was gone, he could've sworn he saw it at the peaks of Mount Anam.

It was the middle of the night. The sky was still dark, and the morning had to be some hours out. Everything seemed normal until a strange feeling washed over him. Heart was nestled into his side, resting his head over Killian's chest, and Killian hesitated to move as a foreign sensation settled into his bones. Something was taking residence.

He didn't know how to describe it, but he suddenly felt he was no longer alone with Heart in his cottage.

A presence had made itself known, and the realization set in as a chilling reality when a voice outside of his own spoke within him.

"Good, you're awake. Don't you dare freak out?"

Steeling his nerves, Killian determined to keep calm not for the sake of the voice inside him, but for his boy. Heart had slept so far undisturbed, and without a nightmare. The last thing Killian wanted to do was steal that from him.

Can you hear my thoughts? he asked.

It would be better if this conversation remained private and silent.

There was a long moment of silence before the voice spoke to him again. "Barely. If you want to talk like that, you're going to have to try harder."

Though Killian wasn't sure how to measure the depths of his will in the matter, he exerted more of it in his next thought.

Tell me if this is sufficient, he said. And introduce yourself. What are you?

"That's better. As for what I am and an introduction, well, I mean you no harm. You're gonna be a hero, yady yady yadda, whatever else Kaladin wanted me to say, call me Bathildis."

Killian's brows knit together tightly.

Kaladin. Bathildis. Those were names he'd heard in childhood: old folk tales, and stories of ages past. He remembered his grandparents speaking of heroes that once fought for the good of men, but they were long gone, fallen into legend. He knew of them, but to consider that their spirits lived on in the afterlife, seeking out hosts-- that was much harder to believe.

When he'd heard the stories from his grandparents, he'd never considered them as real, concrete pieces of history.

But it was hard to explain away a voice in his head that wasn't his own. This had to be a real person, or at least, the echoes of one.

Was he really talking to the real Bathildis? The fierce warrior of old?

It was a lot to take in as it stood, but what snagged was how casually she said: You're gonna be a hero.

No, he thought as loud and respectfully as possible. You have the wrong man.

Heros were made from different material. Killian didn't live a life without strings attached. He couldn't jump up and join a cause when he had responsibilities at home: a son and a family to provide for, and sisters to look out for. Parents to care for, as they got into their old age. He had a job. He had to make a living. He didn't have time to be a hero.

He had Heart.

"That's not how this works. It's not some fate that brought me to you. I chose you. Get over yourself and rise to the call."

Killian felt himself freeze under the light of the moon that spilled through the window.

I have a family, Killian objected. Choose someone else. I have a duty to my son.

"It's too late for that. What's done is done. I had a family once too and it got to the point that I lost them. If you don't help change things, the same fate will happen to you whether you like it or not."

There were implications to her words left unspoken. Killian still wanted to resist with everything within him, but before he stiff-armed her request once more, there was one thing he needed to know.

What is the call? he asked.

"The world is not what it used to be. Things are worse and you're going to fix it, but not alone. There are others, and they're all meeting in Aiteach."

For a moment, Killian felt a pull of responsibilities. Bathildis' call was true but vague in its scope. The level to which change was required to fix things in the world would be extreme, and it was a massive undertaking. Even if there were many drawn together, it felt like an impossible calling.

To be a hero was a great burden to carry.

Bathildis knew what he was asking of him, but he didn't know that he was ready to pay the price.

Heart had lost his mother. Bathlidis implied that Killian could lose his son, or his parents. His sisters. But what Killian feared most was Heart losing his father.

How? he asked. How are we going to fix it?

"Simple, through determination and fighting to make things right."

But Killian knew it was far from simple. Fighting to make things right... that meant confrontation of the highest degree.

Bathildis wouldn't say it outright, but what she was really asking of him, and whomever else was answering this call, was to face Nathair himself.

"You're mumbling again. Yes, we're going to take out Nathair."

What does that mean to you? Killian asked.

"Seeing as what he is doing to my land and my people, it means we're going to execute him." There was ferocity in Bathildis' voice now where before it had been somewhat calm.

Killian clenched his jaw.

I will not be a murderer, Killian said. There must be another way.

An odd feeling of impatience could be felt, clearly not his own before a wave of memories rushed into his mind. The memories were of fire, war, injustice, battle, and hardships. But one stuck out, one that Bathildis knew would hit him hard. The memory of crying children, of being separated from loved ones, of the ferocity to get them back, to protect them.

"This is the only way."

With staunch disagreement, but deeply sobered, Killian knew that regardless of the means, Bathildis was right about one thing: Nathair's reign had to come to an end. Things could not stay as they were.

Resigned, Killian let out a deep sigh.

How many others? he asked. As many as the heroes of old?

"Exactly. There are eleven others, each hand-picked to carry on our legacy."

When are we to meet in Aiteach?

"In a few days. Kaladin is bringing his all the way from Gaeta-Tuath for some reason."

Regardless, it was a long journey for anyone away from Aiteach. Killian was going to need that time to make arrangements for Heart, talk to his family, and prepare for the trek.

How long...? he asked distantly, realizing there was no known answer to the question.

He had to figure out how he was going to explain this to his family. How he was going to explain it to his boy. He had to give himself the chance to go, just to meet everyone and assess the situation, knowing he had the freedom to return home if he needed. He didn't want to leave with no other recourse.

Where in Aiteach? he asked instead.

"Near the border between Aiteach and Meadhan, where the roads meet. You're going to go there and head into the town of Crois-Rathaid and to a tavern and inn called A Good Knight's Rest."

Though the overarching plan was open-ended, this, at least, had a specific direction and goal. That was likely thanks to Kaladin.

...I will make plans to be there," he said, though his heart was not in it.

"Good."

And at that, Killian found he wouldn't be sleeping for the rest of the night.

Now, he'd have to plan what his life would look like in light of this new responsibility.

The last of the evening's light shone brightly through the yellow and white stripes of the canvas tent overhead. Ren stuck the landing as he double-flipped from the tightrope, feet planting into the stuffed mat below him just like he'd rehearsed a thousand times over.

It was the same routine, but every night was something special.

The crowd roared into applause, and Ren gracefully spun his arm as he dipped into a bow, looking back up with arms raised over his head. With a wave to the crowd, he and the other entertainers lined up at the edge of the ring, bowing together as their show came to an end.

No matter how many times he got up on that high wire or flew through the air over the stands with his partner, he never got tired of the reactions he saw from the guests they got to host. Each time he got to see their faces light up at the magic of the circus: the feats of man that they got to accomplish, and the unique offering they got to offer up to the world. There was no other job like this.

Ahaz, the ringmaster, climbed up onto the podium for one last call to the crowd.

Thanks were given to the performers, thanks were given to the supporters, and thanks were last but most importantly given to the people who came to see them.

As night fell and the crowds filed out of the tent, Ren joined the crew as they all worked together to tear everything down. He grabbed the bucket of hand chalk while his partner Nisham rolled up the tightrope, and together they clambered around the tent to make sure everything was ready for them to head on the road once more.

This was their last show in Aiteach for the season. As fall came around, they toured their way back to Geata-Tuath before they retired for the winter season. Ren was looking forward to the few months of rest and seeing family again, but until then, he was having a good time getting closer to his troupe and getting to see so much of the world.

That was one of the perks of being in a circus: it was part of your job to travel the world, and everywhere he went he got to soak in the unique things that made each place its own. His favorite part was always the people, and secondarily the food. Fortunately, for him, after every show, he and his troupe always made a point to enjoy just that.

It was late into the night that they stayed at Buntata's Gurgling Gullet; the busiest tavern in town. He and Nisham were several shots into a drinking game with three friends they'd made just that night: Cyri, Pyri, and Riri. Did Nisham think those were their real names? Not in the slightest. But they were a hoot, and he couldn't get enough of their stories and their jokes.

Riri brushed her thick, ginger curls over her shoulder as she leaned in towards Nisham, looking at him closer.

"So, you're an acrobat," she said, returning to this fixation for the fifth time that night.

"I've already confirmed this several times," Nishan said in amusement.

"I'm just sad that I missed it!" Riri said. "I didn't have a chance to see your show while you were in town."

"That's because she was too busy schmoozing up to her boss for a promotion!" Pyri said, slapping the base of his mug of ale on the wooden table, sending it shivering under the force. Pyri was a large woman, both in stature and strength.

"In this economy..." Cyri said, shaking her head. It was unclear if it was in agreement or disapproval.

"It's not lost on me that you have to please the city fat cats to make a dime," Nisham said, ever-understanding. "It's just a shame half of 'em get taken every month. I swear these taxes just keep getting higher each time."

"And you'd think the king's greed would have its limits!" Pyri said, slapping the table again with a frustrated huff.

"Shh!" Riri said, waving her hands in Pyri's way. "The tax man's 'oer there in the corner."

And of course, as she pointed, all of their heads unhelpfully wheeled around to see an old man seated at the bar, dressed in finer clothes than anyone in the room could manage to afford in one lifetime.

"You think he pockets his own portion?" Nisham murmured to Ren.

"Maybe so," Ren murmured in return.

"Thieves," Cyri said, this time in clear disapproval.

But Ren found himself watching the way the tax collector sat alone at the edge of the bar, avoided like a social outcast. There was something haughty in how he held his shoulders back, but Ren couldn't help but wonder just how lonely it was with that much wealth and so much love lost in his community.

Nisham's arm came around Ren's shoulders, pulling him in close as he shook him from his reverie.

"You know what I need to finish off the night?" he said with a smile.

Ren met Nisham's deep brown eyes with a smile of his own.

"One! Last! Round!" Nisham said, raising his glass.

Riri, Cyri, and Pyri joined in with Ren as they all beat their hands against the table in a unified beat, and one of the servers on the floor danced through the tables with a laugh, holding a platter of beer glasses that she deftly doled out to each of them.

"Bottom's up!" Nisham said, and the five of them took their glasses and swung their heads back, each taking a long glug.

As Ren set his glass back onto the table, he caught sight of a faint flash outside the window, from the corner of his eye. Flicking his gaze, he blinked, wondering if he'd had too much to drink and was seeing things.

He waved the server back over before she could get too far.

"Hey, can you get me a turkey leg?" he asked.

"This late at night?" Nisham teased with a laugh.

"I ain't holding my liquor 's well as I thought!" Ren slurred with a laugh, elbowing Nisham away.

Nisham was quick to push back with a playful shove, but Ren found himself wavering to the side with more force than anticipated.

Normally, he could hold up to a push without losing his balance. His balance was how he stayed alive as an acrobat, and even with this much alcohol in his system, he shouldn't have felt so discombobulated.

But this was something different than liquor.

Ren's reaction time was still quick. He reached out to the table, grabbing the edge with two outstretched hands to stabilize himself, and Nisham pushed the table's end down to keep it from flipping over, so Ren wouldn't take the whole thing with him.

"Woah, woah!" Nisham said.

"He'll need more than a turkey leg!" Pyri laughed.

But that wasn't it.

As Ren sat back up slowly, he felt... different. Dizzy. A strange tingle at the base of his head buzzed with a spark, and a cold sensation fell over him like he'd walked into a chilled breeze.

It was almost instantly sobering.

Almost.

"Hello." A soft voice said, sounding as if beside him. "I've been watching you for a few days now, but don't worry, I don't mean harm."

Ren slow-blinked.

"What?" he said, looking at Nisham.

Nisham looked over to him, caught halfway through a sentence. Ren hadn't realized the rest of the table had kept talking. Or maybe he just hadn't processed it.

"What do you mean 'what?'" Nisham asked, squinting as he looked at Ren in confusion.

"You said--" Ren started to say, but realized none of that could possibly make sense.

Nisham didn't sound like this voice inside his head.

Oh. He'd really had too much to drink.

"Never mind," Ren said breezily, getting out of his chair with an easy laugh. "Sorry, I think I just got confused. Lost track of my thoughts, as usual."

He patted Nisham's shoulder, looking down at his friend with a confident smile that seemed to ease the concern in Nisham's eyes. Nisham lightly patted Ren's arm before Ren pulled away.

"I'm just going to step outside for some air!" he said. "All the body heat in here is really getting to me."

And, finally finding his exit, he slipped out the front door, outside of the still-bustling tavern. Immediately, he was hit with a real gust of cool air, as the dry fall brushed against his skin, grounding him. Ren let out a long sigh, slouching over as he walked out of view of the windows so he could lean against the outer wall, sliding down the wood siding until he sat against the front wall of the tavern, looking out into the cobblestone street.

A couple stumbled out of the tavern hand in hand, the bell over the door ringing cheerily as they both leaned on each other, laughing loudly in a drunken tizzy. Ren watched them pass down the street, under the light of the burning street lamp, until they turned into swaying silhouettes.

Finally alone, or as alone as he could be in a city so alive in the middle of the night, Ren looked up at the stars, tapping his head against the wall like that might knock some sense into him.

And yet, he couldn't shake this feeling. Someone was listening, weren't they?

Curiosity ate away at him for a total of three seconds before he caved, hesitant as he whispered in return.

"You've been... watching me?" he asked, feeling stupid talking to the air.

"I have. Your feats of athletics impress me, however, I am no tavern girl looking for a drink to share."

That was clear enough by the fact that she was incorporeal, but that left Ren with more questions than answers.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

"I'm Taryn, one of the twelve warriors. I'm not sure if you have heard of me or not."

Ren wasn't sure if he had either. If this was a test, he hadn't done well when it came to history, and he'd never finished school. He hesitated, not sure if he was supposed to remember.

"I can't remember," he said, hoping that sounded better than saying he didn't know at all.

Taryn sighed softly. "Not many do."

Ren nodded, not sure if this... spirit, or whatever she was, could even see him.

"So now you're inside me?" Ren asked. "Am I possessed?"

He'd only ever heard of that in ghost stories. He didn't think he'd be living one.

"Not quite. Think of it like I'm tethered to you."

"Like a harness?" he asked.

It was like in his early years of training for the circus before he was trusted for the falls without them. Once the movements were in his body, he didn't have to rely on the harness anymore. He just knew them, and his body did too. In a way, it was like the harness was still there, just in his memory.

"Yes, exactly."

So Taryn was a part of him now. What did that mean? There was a mixture of emotions that stirred within him: trepidation, curiosity, but above all, excitement. This was special wasn't it?

"So, Taryn," he said, feeling a spike in confidence. "This... tethering. You watching me. What's it all for? You say you're not looking for drinks, so what is it you're looking for?"

"I'm looking for someone who can carry on my purpose. Someone who can work well in a team and help them through whatever happens."

Purpose. That sounded so big and grand. Ren had never given much thought to his own purpose, or what that even meant for him. To consider it now felt daunting, and he couldn't manage to give it much thought.

Maybe Taryn finding him was his purpose. It had to be, right? Nothing happened on accident. Everything was for a reason.

"You think I'm cut out for it?" he asked.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't have chosen you otherwise."

Sitting up a little straighter, Ren felt himself filled with a warm sense of anticipation. Already, he could hear the call to adventure tugging on him, just like he had two years ago when he joined the circus. Taryn was right: he knew how to work with a team, and he knew how important it was to be able to trust in and rely on your teammates. He knew that best with Nisham, as they trusted one another to catch each other across the beams and the swinging bars over the vaulted circus displays. He'd grown to trust Nisham with his life in many ways, and he knew they'd help each other through whatever happened during the performance.

"I think you chose the right person, too," Ren said, feeling a bit strange still as he heard his voice carry out into the street with no face to put to Taryn's voice.

But for some reason, it felt right, even if it was the weirdest thing that had happened to him to date. Which was saying something, of course. He'd seen a lot of weird things in his time in the circus.

"So, what's this team? What do you need us to do?" he asked.

"I need you to restore Rudeigin to what it used to be."

The smile that had come to Ren's face fell for just a moment. And then, it returned in full force.

Wait a minute.

This was just like the start of a story. The start of a hero's story.

"I'm in," he said, getting to his feet a little too quickly. His head spun and he tapped several steps forward, catching and losing his balance three full times before he pirouetted in the middle of the street and landed on both feet.

"Where do we start?" he asked with a laugh.

Taryn's laugh almost seemed to echo a little in his mind as she spoke again. "Not far from here actually. There will be eleven others for you to meet in Crois-Rathaid at a tavern and inn called A Good Knight's Rest."

"A Good Knight's Rest?" Ren asked with a surprised smile. "I was there just a few days ago! When should I be there?"

"In about two days."

Two days. Two days? That was such a long time to wait.

"Well, what should I do in the mean--" he started, but stopped when he turned around to start pacing and instead met eyes with Nisham, who just stepped out of the tavern.

Ren's eyes widened.

"Nisha!" he said, running to Nisham with his arms spread open. He surrounded Nisham's sturdy shoulders with a tight hug, swinging them in a circle as momentum pulled them around.

Nisham let out a light laugh, hugging Ren in return before he was the one to steady them to a stop, clearly sobered more than Ren. Or maybe he was just stronger. He always was.

"Ren," Nisham said, pulling away, but holding Ren steady at the shoulders. "What's up with you? Who were you talking to?"

Ren rested his hands over Nisham's, pulling them off his shoulders and instead holding them tightly with bubbling excitement. He shook Nisham's hands in his own.

"I think I found my life's purpose," he said, feeling the words stumble out of his mouth.

Nisham stared at him.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Nisham asked with an unsure chuckle.

"Yes! Yes! More sure than I've been in my life. I know what I'm meant to do now," Ren went on. "I met someone named Taryn. She's asked me to join a new group."

"A new troupe?" Nisham asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Ren said. "Exactly. A new troupe."

"I'm... not sure I follow," Nisham said.

"Not exactly a troupe..." Taryn quietly corrected in the background.

Ren huffed with a smile, dropping Nisham's hands.

"I'm going to save the world, Nisham," Ren said in earnest. "I see it clear as day. I'll tell the ringmaster I leave tomorrow."

At that, Nisham seemed more troubled than confused, and he took a small step back.

"So you're... leaving? Just like that?" he asked.

"It's for a good reason!" Ren said.

"I --" Nisham started, but instead let his words turn to a heavy sigh as he shook his head. "Sure. Whatever 'saving the world' means."

Ren felt himself deflating. Had he missed something? He thought that Nisham would be happy for him, or supportive. But this felt like Nisham was just... disappointed.

"You're really leaving?" Nisham asked, more serious. "This isn't one of your short-lived whims?"

Ren bristled. This felt new. Had Nisham felt this way for a while, without saying so?

"Hey--" he started, but Nisham held up a hand.

"Whatever your real reason is," Nisham said. "I don't want to hear it. If you want to go, then go. We won't keep you here."

Ren found himself watching with his mouth agape as Nisham turned and walked away, hastening his pace and saying nothing more. There was a strange, cold silence that followed, and Ren found himself wondering what he'd done wrong - because it felt like this was something with layers. Layers he hadn't noticed were forming.

He and Nisham were friends.

So why didn't it hurt as much as he thought it should, when he saw Nisham walk off? Why didn't he follow?

Another group of people pushed out the double-doored tavern entrance, almost bumping into him with the door. Ren stumbled back, and none of them noticed his presence soon enough to notice the near collision or offer an apology. He noticed Riri was among them, apart from her two friends, and she saw Nisham down the street.

A feeling he didn't have words for washed over him as he watched Riri's attentions lock onto Nisham, and she darted after him, hooking her arm into Nish's. Without looking back, Nish flashed Riri a smile, as if nothing had happened just moments ago.

Ren let out a small huff, brushing down the front of his vest as he shook his head, inhaling the sharp air.

It was... probably best not to overthink it. He was leaving in the morning, wasn't he? He was going to have a new group, and it was always better not to dwell on the past.

Curtains closed. Onto the next performance.

"So Taryn," he said, turning on his heels to walk down the street the other way, taking the long way to his room for the night. "Tell me about yourself."

The Lopen Herdaz woke up to silence. Last night a sandstorm had passed through, and while sand usually doesn't reach that far into the mining tunnels, it usually blocks the entrance up and sand is a pain to move.

He sat up, and pain zipped through about seven different places. He winced, which caused one more. He lit a lantern and sat back down to check his wounds. He'd need to rebandage his right side. He was lucky that the knife narrowly missed the bone in his hip. He ran out of stuff for infection prevention, and he didn't have enough money to get more. It wasn't like he could find anything either, for he lived in a storming desert. Basically nothing useful grew here.

Now, he was starting to lose his mind only a few days after losing his friend, who might have well been family. He'd started hearing a voice, which he swore was a person right next to him, but no one was there. He hadn't built up the courage to try to talk back to it.

The gentle voice could be heard again, once more sounding as if it were right beside him. "You're awake. Are you doing okay?"

"Oh I'm doing just fine, I'm only going insane." The Lopen muttered, mostly to himself.

"And why do you think that?" The voice asked again, sounding almost as if concerned.

"Well, I've got a little voice in my head, and now I'm starting to talk to it." He looked at his face in a shard of glass. Wow, he was really lucky wasn't he? Could have lost his vision with that cut. But then again, maybe he wasn't lucky to be the one that survived.

He shook his head. That wasn't the thinking he needed right now. He blew out the lantern and started walking to the entrance. He saw no light coming through, which meant he would have to dig his way out. He started to dig with his cloth covered hands as the voice spoke again.

"I'm a little more then just a voice in your head so don't worry, you're not insane. There are others like you, we just have to go meet them."

"Wow, that sounds like something a little voice in my head would say." He squinted against the harsh light that started to come through. He moved enough sand to wiggle out, and stood up to survey the very, very boring land. Oh look, what was that over there? Sand! How about over there? More sand! He started walking. It was a little bit of a ways to the city. "I've got a long ways to walk, so I suppose I can amuse you in the meantime. So, pretending I'm not insane and you're actually here, what others, and where?"

"Well it's quite a lot to explain and you wouldn't wake up last night, which I'm glad you woke up this morning, I was starting to wonder if you were even alive, but I'll start with answering your questions. There's eleven others, all with accompanying spirits, those of my friends, just like you have me. They're all heading to an inn in Aiteach and we have to meet them there."

"So if I was dead you'd still be here with my corpse? Also Aiteach? Exactly how much time do I have to get there?" If he were to consider travelling, the quickest way would be either by boat or through the mountains.

"I don't really know if I would still be here or not but I'm glad you woke up. As for how much time we have, maybe two days? I think Kaladin is hoping to get there tomorrow or the day after at the latest."

"Kaladin. Who's he?"

There was a long moment of silence before the voice spoke again. "You don't know?"

"There's a lot of things I don't know, and that's one of them." For example, who his parents were. What they looked like. What people do when they don't have to live in a desert, or how much crime there are in other places. He did know how to survive though.

"I guess it has been three hundred years... I didn't think we'd be forgotten about so fast." The voice gave a heavy sigh before continuing. "Kaladin was a king of Rudeigin some would call him. He and I ruled over Meadhan and we were best friends until we died."

"How glorious, I have a ruler in my head." His leg would be fine to walk on.

"Well, kind of. I guess I have yet to make a proper introduction. I'm Lonán and you are?"

"The Lopen. Don't take it personally that I don't know about you. I can't tell you the names of any rulers from before. Or any events from the past."

"That's okay. It's nice to meet you, Lopen. Can I call you that, or do you prefer the The as well?"

"Well I mean the 'The' makes it sound more interesting." He shrugged.

"The Lopen it is then. Does lopen stand for something? have some sort of symbolism?"

"Just means me. Does Lonán mean anything?"

"I've been told it means blackbird which makes sense, I did have dark hair when I was alive."

"How lovely." The Lopen stopped at the approximate location of a door he often used. It would lead underground, to the city. While he knew it like the back of his hand and everyone there, everyone there knew him so he'd have to get out fast. He didn't want wind to catch fire, since the last thing he needed was 50 people on his trail.

"Mhm! Wait, where are we going? This isn't the way to Aiteach."

"I said I'd talk with you to amuse you." He swept off the sand and entered the dark tunnel, uncovering his face.

"The others need you. They can't do this without you." Lonán urged.

"Others, who don't know me, and are from an entirely different place. Needing me. Trust me, they'd be better off without." He grunted as he open and closed another door. They needed to grease those hinges. Before his eyes laid the city.

"No, they need you. If you don't join them you will be signing their doom yourself. Don't you want things to get better?"

"So I'm supposed to listen to you, a voice in my head telling me that you're a dead person from over 300 years ago?" He laughed shortly. This was ridiculous.

"Yes you are! I could have picked anyone else but I chose you. Now you're stuck with me."

"Okay hold up. You chose me?" He asked, covering his face again as he neared the busier streets.

"Yes I did. Everyone chose someone, someone to carry out the mission in their stead. The world isn't what it used to be, The Lopen. It's broken and torn now, someone has to fix it."

"You should have noticed, I don't follow directions from anyone. Also, I don't fix things." Now who, in this very large crowd, would be a good target?

"Don't you want your life, if anything, to get better?"

"You'd have to be a god for that to happen, because normal people can't bring back the dead." There. He weaved through the crowd, blending with them. Discreetly, he took the pouch of coins that dangled from someone's side. He kept moving, his action unnoticed.

Lonán sighed loudly. "I can't bring back the dead. I'm a little more on the dead side myself. But you can make your life better without doing that. That's in the past, we're talking about the future."

"Says the dead guy from the past to the living one." He snatched another pouch. Weight wise, it should be enough to pay for his needs. He continued walking.

"Look, if you don't do anything, it's just going to get worse. Eventually no one will have anything you can steal from them and everyone will be just struggling to survive."

"Who said I needed to steal from others to survive?" He muttered as he entered a shop. Best jerky in the entirety of Salachar.

"Your actions do. Now if anything, they at least need me. I can't leave you on my own, I'm bound to you. Won't you at least go to Aiteach so I can be with the rest again?"

He didn't talk to Lonán as he paid for the jerky. Once he was out he spoke again. "So we find your friends. They can unbound so you can go without me?"

Lonán was quiet for a short moment before he spoke. "Exactly."

The Lopen didn't respond. He made his way to the apothecary. As he waited for the woman, he noticed unusual movement in the corner of his eye. He'd been noticed already. He didn't have the time to wait, so he ran. An arrow lodging itself into the ground at his feet, and he ran faster.

"Keep to your right, you'll be more protected there!" Lonán urgently advised.

The Lopen gritted his teeth as he thought What do you think I'm doing?

Lonán then suddenly exclaimed, "Duck!"

The Lopen reacted, ducking while swerving onto a different street. He didn't look back, but he swore he felt something brush against his hair, like an arrow or something. The wounds in his legs protested. He started to climb up a building, one close enough he'd be able to reach the door to get out. Hopefully locking the people in from that path. They'd find others, but it would take them longer to reach him.

"There's a tunnel not far from here. There should be a grate over it with the symbol of a pickaxe on it."

"I know." He huffed.

"Good, it'll get us out of this, hopefully."

The Lopen leaped from the building, landing next to the tunnel.

"Go, go, before they see you!"

He closed the door behind him, blocking off entrance into the tunnel. He continued running.

"Do you know where to go from here?"

"Yeah, I'm going back home." His side hurt. Ow. Everything hurt.

"What about Aiteach?"

"You think I'll listen to a voice in my head telling me to go to a place I've never been before to meet people I've never met before?" He opened up the outside hatch, and pulled himself up into the sandy land.

"I just saved your life!" Lonán cried indignantly.

"Yes, but do I look travel ready at this moment?" The Lopen huffed.

Lonán sighed. "No, we are going there though, right?"

"Fortunately for you, I'm listening to the voice in my head this once." He pretty much collapsed onto the sand, and entered his home. He sat down and started checking on the gash on his leg he'd gotten days ago.

"Thank you, you won't regret it." The relief could be heard clearly in Lonán's voice.

"I hope not." He used the rest of his bandages up. "Because I'd hate to go through the trouble of stealing a boat for nothing."

"It won't be for nothing, I promise."

"Don't make me promises. Especially ones you can't keep."

"Oh don't worry, I can keep this one."

The Lopen didn't reply. He crawled back out, and headed west.

"Do you know how to sail?"

"Nope. I assumed you did when you were alive."

"Its been a while... But yes, hopefully?"

How encouraging. Well, nothing like messing around and finding out.



Now that he thought back to when he was running from the gang, it was odd. He just listened to Lonán, and Lonán knew how to get out. Did it have to do with the fact memories that he never had were in his head now? Or had the city just not changed after 300 years?

Looking at the vast body of water fascinated him. He'd never seen so much in one place. He sat under a tree, taking in all of his surroundings.

"Its beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's different." The Lopen replied quietly. Last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself. "Can you hear thoughts?"

"I don't really know. I'm about as new to this as you are."

"Can others hear you?" He thought for a second. "Nevermind. You probably don't know. But how do you see?"

"Not a clue, my friend. Like I said, I don't know how this works. I just sort of felt disturbed then was pulled from my rest. The others were too and after looking at the state of the world, we formed a plan."

Now was good. There was a relatively small boat that he'd been eyeing, and the owners of the boat were talking to others. He got up, and walked as if he belonged. As if he owned the boat, he undid the ropes and cautiously got into the boat.

A couple memories flashed through his mind once he stepped on the boat. Getting on one much larger then this, watching as the sail unfurled, glistening azure waves, and the sight of land much unlike both Salachar and Aiteach.

Woah. It wobbled as he walked. He looked up, where the sail must be. He pulled on the ropes connected, and manage to unfurl it. The ship wobbled and he panicked slightly, but for the most part he was amazed. He looked back at the coastline. "Alright. Fun. I'm going to do a test on the thoughts stuff while I try to direct this thing."

"That lever looking thing back there should do the trick for steering I think. As for thoughts, sorry about that, I was trying to remember when the last time I was on a boat was to help you."

The Lopen walked to the back of the boat, and pushed the lever one direction. It turned the boat successfully. A little too strong though, as the boat tipped to one side. It settled back down, which was relieving. "Alright, that works. The memories were weird. But I was more focused on using thoughts to communicate. Talking out loud in a crowd of people will make me stand out."

"Good point. How about you try saying something to me in your head?"

Can you hear? He thought, and waited for a second. "Anything?"

"Not really. Maybe try again?"

He thought for a second. Something did feel different compared to when he didn't have a voice in his head, so he tried his best to focus on that. Now? "How about that?"

"That worked! I heard something that time! It was pretty quiet though..."

"It's progress." The Lopen grinned, satisfied. "So once I reach Aiteach, where do I go?"

"Once you reach the shore, you're going to want to go north until you reach the crossroads. there's a town not far from there called Crois-Rathaid and in that town in a tavern you all will be meeting at."

"And they'd be able to get you out of my head there? How far north exactly until these crossroads?"

"It's almost on the border between Meadhan and Aiteach so a ways. The crossroads are hard to miss though. One goes north to Meadhan, another east to Trannsa Valley and Gleann, and the other west to Buntata."

"And would they be able to get you out of my head there?" He asked again, noticing that had gone unanswered.

There was yet another moment of silence before Lonán said anything. "Oh, look! There's a whale! Off to the left!"

He looked over, his curiosity getting the better of him. "A what? What's that?"

"A whale! It's an animal that lives in the water!" Lonán exclaimed in joy as the creature's back surfaced and a huge puff of steam exploded into the air.

The Lopen crouched low, eyeing the creature. "You didn't answer my question. If you don't I'm turning this boat around and if I get caught you'll be finding out what happens to you when I'm dead."

"What question?"

"Can they get you out of my storming mind when we get there or not?" He growled impatiently.

"Well... would you be mad if I said maybe?"

"I'm already annoyed for having to ask the same question three times. If you weren't in my storming mind I'd have already thrown you off of this boat. You have one minute to explain to me why I should keep going."

Lonán sighed and thought for a moment. "Because I'm not leaving otherwise. People need you and from the looks of it, you need them too. And they also need me. Do you want to keep suffering? Because I know what it's like to live in Salachar, what it's like just trying to survive and it's miserable."

"It's not even guaranteed that you can leave, and I don't need people. Look where they've gotten me."

"There are more then one kind of people. You just have to find the right ones. These people are different then the ones you're used to and different then you as well. They need you to help them survive and make it through this."

The Lopen was quiet. He never thought he'd ever be listening to a little voice in his head that wasn't his own. Much less actually consider them. He huffed softly and didn't change course.

Lonán's voice seemed a little happier as he stayed on course for Aiteach. "They're good people. I trust in who my friends chose. All you have to do is give them a shot."

He was unsure about that, skeptical. Unknowingly, he sent that emotion to Lonán.

"Please? I understand if you aren't sure about them at first but just one chance?"

"You felt that? Or is it obvious that I look skeptical?"

"I felt it, and I'm going to be honest, it was a little strange."

The Lopen sent annoyance.

He received a sigh from Lonán in return. "I should have expected that..."

Now he was curious just how much of a conversation he could have with just emotions. He sent curiosity.

A feeling of confusion washed over him in return.

That did feel weird. He sent back amusement.

This time, he received a feeling of mildly exasperated happiness.

A few hours later and many confusing exchanges of emotions that didn't seem to make any sense, a port came into view. The Lopen sent questioning.

Lonán sent the feeling of questioning back before finally speaking again. "You're going to need to slow down if you want to dock."

The Lopen sent questioning again. He needed a more specific answer, like how to slow down.

Another memory moved through his mind, presumably one of Lonán's. It was one of watching as a large majestic sail was furled as it sailed in, slowing and pulling in neatly beside the old timbers of the dock.

Alright then. The Lopen pulled the ropes as shown, and steered the boat. When they got closer, he assumed they were still moving too fast. He sent alarm to Lonán.

A feeling of calm and reassurance was sent back by Lonán. "If you think you need more time to slow then turn to a different portion of the dock."

The Lopen turned the boat to go further up along the coast. Once he found an open one he turned the boat. It bumped into the dock, and he jumped out as soon as he could. He tied it to the dock, and started walking. That felt so weird after getting out of a boat. He took out a piece of jerky and tore a piece off to eat. This place was so colorful. He'd never seen so much color before. The sun wasn't harsh either. But he wasn't going to make it all the way to where he needed to get to today. He send Lonán a sense of being tired.

It was a moment before Lonán responded again with a feeling of sympathy. "There are plenty of villages and towns here. I'm sure any one of them will let you in. Even a humble farmstead."

"For what cost?" He asked.

"That depends on where you go. A farm will probably let you sleep in the barn for free but won't feed you, while an inn will provide you with a hearty meal and a bed for a price."

"I've got food, I just need a place to sleep." The Lopen yawned.

"Then anywhere should do nicely."

"So where exactly would I find a farm? I... don't really know what they look like." He admitted. He didn't like admitting things he didn't know, as people's reactions were often surprised or ridiculing, or both in that order. But if he could avoid sleeping on the side of the street he would.

"So there will be a big wooden building, most of the time painted red. That's the barn. There will be smaller buildings around it too, and animals. There might even be like a tower with four big blades on it called a windmill. The blades spin when it's windy which turns mechanical things inside that grind wheat or corn."

"Huh." He nodded. None of those around here, so he continued walking north. The buildings looked more well-kept than the ones in Salachar. The Lopen felt like he stood out walking around in his clothing, which while it was useful back in Salachar to blend in to the land as well as keep the sun off of him, it wasn't what was needed here. The sun and the ground didn't burn, the wind didn't lash out with sand, and they didn't seem to struggle to get water either. At least not as much as in Salachar. The buildings thinned out, and he soon came across what looked like Lonán's description of a farm. "So..."

"It might be best to ask if you can have a place to sleep so they don't accidentally find you in the morning in their barn, yes?"

"Makes sense I guess." With that, he went up and knocked on the door of the building that had lights in it. A man opened the door and upon looking at The Lopen he grew slightly wary, but allowed him to stay in the barn. He was on the loft, with a whole bunch of dry grass. Once the man had left the barn he laid down on the back wall, not at any corners, which while tempting were places just begging to trap you. He whispered. "He'll probably check in the middle of the night to make sure I'm not doing anything troublesome, won't he?"

"Probably. Would you like me to keep watch?"

"Do you even need sleep?" He frowned.

"Well, I am tired from earlier but I can rest tomorrow while we're traveling."

"Alright." The Lopen closed his eyes, and drifted off into sleep.



The Lopen woke up, and the sun hadn't even risen yet. He stood up and brushed the grass off of his clothes. To his surprise, it didn't get as cold as he thought it would have.

"Good morning!" Lonán's cheery voice could be heard in his head. "I made sure nothing happened while you slept."

"Thanks." He yawned. "So what did happen?"

"Well, the man did come to check on you but left when he saw nothing was going on in here, a cat laid by you for a little while, there was an owl which was cool, and that's about it. Not too exciting."

"Alright. So can I just leave?" He asked as he climbed down.

"If you want. I don't know if the man is up yet or not. If he is, it might do well to thank him though."

"Fine." He left the barn, and headed towards the house. No lights were on, and everything was quiet. So, he left a small pouch of jerky at the door and continued walking. "Rest well Lonán."

"Thank you, I will. Try not to get into too much trouble or anything too exciting, I don't want to miss it."

"I am a trouble magnet. You won't miss much."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Lonán yawned before responding. "Alright, I will be back later then."

The Lopen wasn't bored as he walked along the path. There were some people he'd see, and the land was so different. After a few hours, he reached what could only be the crossroads. Now which direction was it that Lonán has said to go? Wait- he was an idiot. There were signs, one very large one pointing to Meadhan. He continued to walk north.

As he walked, he couldn't help but to think what life would have been for him outside of Salachar. But he put it out of his mind as soon as it got there. He couldn't dwell on what could have been. In a way, he was glad to have listened to Lonán, whether he was actually a dead person from 300 years ago or just a voice in his insane mind. Just in a day he'd seen things he'd never known he'd see before. Never dreamed of it. As for whether to consider it good or bad, he hadn't decided yet.

The man on the farm gave him hope. A tiny bit, but it was still a bit. No one in Salachar would give you a place to stay for the night, and The Lopen understood how some people might be wary towards people from Salachar given their reputation. But with multiple other people, he doubted that they'd all be from Salachar. But then again, he didn't really know what it was like in other lands. A town was coming into view, and while he was glad Lonán wasn't snoring, he did wish the dead guy would wake up. Well, he'd try to wake Lonán when they got into the town if he didn't wake by then. He'd need to get some more money too. He'd probably get money before waking Lonán.



He'd gotten himself some money, which left a few people to notice later that their coins were gone. He could make it last for about two weeks, and he had already gotten himself some more bandages and medicine. Lonán still hadn't woken up. The Lopen sent the feeling of being awake to Lonán.

The feeling was responded with the sound of a yawn as Lonán woke up. How a spirit was capable of yawning, the world might never know.

"Good morning. Did anything exciting happen while I was resting?"

"Nothing much. Did you have any dreams?"

"Hm, no. I honestly don't know if I can dream."

"So, are we in the right town?"

"Is there a sign anywhere?"

"I didn't see one. At least I didn't look for one."

"Could you look for one? Or at least look around until something looks familiar?"

"Until something looks familiar when I've never been here." He muttered and started to look around, walking on the side where there was less traffic. "I've got a dead guy talking to me so I'll go for it."

After a few minutes, a building gave him that feeling. A vague impression of doing something surfaced. "Do you remember that?"

"I do! At least I think I do anyway."

"Alright, assuming this is something you remember, how do we get to said destination? Or can you not remember?"

Lonán gave a long hum as if trying to remember and a brief memory flashed by. It was an overview of the town, as if seen from a bird's eye. Certainly not enough to navigate by but Lonán seemed to know where he was going after that.

"Okay! So, you're going to take a right turn two streets up and keep going until you see the market."

The Lopen did so, until he stood in front of a market. "Okay."

"Now go left and up that road for three streets and turn left again. You should be able to see it from there."

"You know that from a bird's eye view?"

"Kind of, but also because I walked this way with the others when we picked this place."

"When you were alive or after you were dead?"

"Dead, we sort of wandered for a little while before we chose you and the others."

"Huh." He stopped once he saw a tavern, the only one on the street. "Good Knight's Rest, I'm guessing. You sure they allow criminals in there? Wouldn't want to disturb the sleeping knights."

Lonán chuckled. "If anything I'm the sleeping knight. And they wont know you're a criminal if you don't say anything, you're not a criminal here."

"Oops, I already disturbed a sleeping knight. I guess that's not as bad as I thought, except for the fact you're pretty much in my head." He entered the place. "How will I know someone is one of the people we're meeting? Please don't tell me that they'll feel familiar."

Lonán laughed. "Oh you'll know when you find one of them." He said cryptically.

"That's even worse." He sent annoyance to Lonán.

Lonán sent back the feeling of glee. The Lopen sent him more annoyance. So much annoyance.

'CLANG!

The sound of battered metal ignited the crisp morning air of Geata-Tuath, in a shallow valley of the moorland. The somewhat distant peaks of Bàta-Siorc's taller buildings could be seen along the cloudy skyline of the valley, though even the nearest main road was a long walk away. In the valley, a small camp had been built out of a gutted old shack, one wall completely missing. The whole thing was shrouded by the earthy-colored cloth that helped it blend into the surrounding terrain, only bits of its nearly-black wooden frame poking through.

For a brief moment, Aris Blackridge thought that metallic ring confirmed her finally hitting the wretched target. A battered old shield hanging from a post, with some rings painted on it to create a makeshift bullseye at least.

However, she realized that the shield had no new scratches or dents. Her blade-tipped morningstar hit the ground with a rumbling 'thud,' and instead, she saw the talon-shaped foot of her prosthetic leg split. A deep crack ran between the middle and leftmost toes, threatening to throw her off balance and send her plummeting to the ground.

It wouldn't be the first time. Or the second. Or the third. A nice way to put it was that she was becoming very well-acquainted with the nearest blacksmith.

It did nothing to satiate her rage.

"You stupid..." She groaned and hurled the morningstar. "Damn it! Curse this wretched leg, those mercenaries, and this godforsaken land! Damn it all to Hell!"

Aris huffed with anger, dropping down to her good knee as she reluctantly made adjustments to her prosthetic. The best she could do for now was tie a band around the foot to ensure the crack didn't widen. She had a spare, but it'd take a lot of rummaging to find it and she didn't feel like collapsing into her gear -not when she had stuff that could impale her in the process.

For a moment, she couldn't help dwelling in her memories. It was barely a whole year prior when she was completely free and uninhibited, roaming several corners of Rudeigin -especially the more secret sides of its sparkling cities and picturesque landscapes. One day she'd be swiping gold, the next she'd be pounding some shady shrimp into the ground as a firm warning. Whatever came her way, she could face it head-on, with all the might she could muster.

Now she was stuck back in the homeland she once escaped, stewing in her grudge as she struggled to find the strength she had lost. Sure, her leg could handle the basics, but every time she tried dipping back into combat, it failed. Even if the fake leg stayed in one piece, her balance, aim, power -everything was all off.

As she begrudgingly stood up and turned, eying her morningstar as it poked out of the dirt, she heard something that immediately put her on edge.

Even though the valley was barren, a calm, well-spoken masculine voice called to her, "If you don't mind my saying, Miz Blackridge, you seem to be struggling quite-"

"Shut up!" Aris spat, hitting her own head in frustration. "I already told you, freak, I don't want to hear you -and if you had an ass, I'd be kicking it right now!"

"Well then...I suppose it's a good thing I'm communicating with you in this manner."

"Yeah, you're lucky," Aris muttered, picking up her morningstar. "Now keep quiet."

She meandered back to the shack, stepping inside. Her food stash was low; just some stolen fruit and a jar of lentils. She swiped an apple and started biting into it, looking out across the valley and cloudy sky.

"I can-"

"What'd I just say?" Aris said warily.

"Miz Blackridge, please, I know you're not fond of the present situation. However, I can make it worth your while."

"Yeah, sure," Aris muttered. "You and every other con artist in these regions."

"Madam, if I'm not mistaken, you were having a pint with a man who sells iron shavings instead of tea, despite asking for double the price. No, not every merchant is an honest one, but you don't exactly keep innocent company either."

Aris desperately wanted to retort, only to recognize the flaw in her logic. Not that she would ever admit to it of course, it just made her even more annoyed.

"I'm about to bash my own head in just to shut you up," Aris grumbled. "If you can't beat 'em, use 'em, that's what I have to say to that."

The spirit cleared his throat. "I can see that you haven't thought much about the offer I extended to you last night. But I believe I have another way to reach you. I was drawn to you because you have a head for business, and that is what I'm going to rely on."

Aris sneered, leaning against the post of the shed. "'Business,' huh? The next thing you say better be a price, if you want me to keep listening."

"Perhaps in a way, it is. I think I can teach you some tricks that will help you rekindle your affinity for combat."

"Oh, please," Aris argued. "There's nothing you can teach me that I haven't already been taught. I learned from the most cutthroat players in this stupid land's games -I trained myself to take a hit until even head-sized rocks couldn't break my bones, and worked my kicks and punches until I could snap the local dogwoods at their trunks. I know what I'm doing. The problem is this stupid leg, and that lazy blacksmith not keeping up with me!"

"Indeed, you have a weak spot that wasn't there before, and your barbaric methods of fighting are only exacerbating the strain on it. Perhaps instead of stubbornly continuing a failed strategy, you adapt and find a way to work with it. I can help with that. You could be back to fighting in no time."

"'No time,' huh?" Aris muttered.

"It may not be as straightforward as you like, but it will work, and it will definitely keep you on your feet. As opposed to your current method."

Aris's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch here?"

"I'm sure you remember what I asked of you last night."

Aris sighed heavily, twisting the core of the apple as she thought. "Repeat."

"I wish for you to travel to a small town in Aiteach known as 'Crois-Rathaid.' There, you will find a humble tavern known as 'A Good Knight's Rest,' where you will meet others on the same path and I will provide the details of the job."

"You little..." Aris groaned, "You expect me to travel all the way to that city for some cryptic job?"

"I recall that you can still walk quite well. I will continue to fill you in as you go, and show you some techniques that will work with your faux leg."

"So the more progress I make, the more you'll show me..." Aris muttered, "I hate this form of business; it's the hardest to turn away from."

She heard the voice chuckle, "As you can see, I'm quite well-equipped when it comes to strategy. So, then? Do we have a deal, Miz Blackridge?"

Aris stopped to think, her lip curling with irritation. This spirit, this Roland the Diplomatic as he introduced himself, had the audacity to invade her own mindspace out of nowhere, ask her to travel in such challenging conditions, and now was stringing her along on the details. All while baiting her with something she desired more than anything right now -the chance to get her strength back. Such a soulless maneuver reminded her of the stuck-up nobles she had crossed so many times, and she knew he would be no different; these husks were all the same.

But at the same time, she wasn't getting anywhere in her current position. She had to do something if she wanted to stay afloat.

Aris hurled the apple core, then kicked the post in a fit of rage. The wood cracked and splintered upon impact. She staggered as the bad leg failed to support her, like an obnoxious reminder of why she needed this spirit's help. It made her stomach churn, shooting venomous bile into her throat.

"Fine!" She snapped. "You win, alright?! I'll find the stupid tavern, but you better keep your word. I swear to gods, if you cross me on this, I will find a way to kill you!"

She could just imagine the vague figure of Roland, smirking in a way that made her want to punch him.

"I assure you, Miz Blackridge, I will keep my side of the bargain as long as you keep yours. To start, would you please look down and to your left? That would be a good thing to train you with."

Expecting to find a tool or weapon part, Aris looked down.

Only to find a long, slightly curved metal rod. It was barely as wide as her pinkie finger and covered in rust.

"Are you joking?!" Aris snapped, snatching up the rod. "This is a glorified stick, not a weapon!"

"You don't exactly have many resources to work with, and your current weapon selection is rather, well, blunt. We'll find you a real weapon on the way, I'm sure."

Aris sneered and muttered, "We better."

"Now then, it's a long road to Aiteach. Why don't you pack some necessities, and we can be on our way?"

"Yeah, yeah," Aris retorted.

"And if you'd like, I can tell you some tricks to get a horse at a bargain. No fighting required."

Aris felt the heat of her rage recede just a little, as she perked up a bit. "Oh...I could probably use that. But don't think that puts us on good terms, Roland the Detestable."

Roland sighed, "Of course, Miz Blackridge."

Aris smirked to herself; she could work this spirit as much as he was trying to work her. With a slight boost to her confidence, she started throwing some necessities into a bag, ready to head out on the familiar path to Aiteach.

The Lopen was still annoyed with Lonán, and refused to talk with him. So far there were things that had happened that he couldn't explain. Did that change the fact that there was a voice in his head? No. He'd just travelled further than home than he'd ever been because of it. Everything had also been on instinct, which while yes, The Lopen had to use those to survive, was annoying when he had no idea what to do in land he was unfamiliar with and his sole guide was a dead man.

He'd found another farm that allowed him to stay for the night, and then early in the morning he returned to the tavern to watch people while eating jerky. Some of the people in here had large appetites; it was kind of impressive. But no sign of others like him, despite what Lonán told him. That was, until he noticed someone who'd singled him out.

With a bowl of steaming oatmeal in one hand, the man deftly weaved through tables with his eyes set on The Lopen. He had a resting smile on his face - one that The Lopen wasn't sure whether to be threatened or warmed by. The man was tall, and lean, but wiry and strong. He looked healthy, well-fed, and like he'd probably never seen a battle in his life despite his build. The Lopen eyed him warily.

Sitting down, the man brushed his long, black hair over one shoulder as he set down his bowl and met The Lopen's eyes.

"Hey," the man greeted. "My name's Renner, but everyone calls me Ren. What's your name?"

"Told you you'd know when." Lonán said gleefully. The Lopen sent him annoyance.

"The Lopen." He replied shortly.

"The Lopen," Ren echoed. "That sounds cool. 'The' Lopen. Like a title?"

"One that just means me." He contemplated on how he felt on this guy. It could either go extreme mistrust or he'd tolerate him.

"I like it," Ren said with a smile, scooping up some oatmeal and chewing. He pointed his spoon at The Lopen. "So, I don't know how else to break the ice, you know. But I guess the spirits inside us know each other. Kind of freaky, huh?"

It's good to hear your voice again, Lonán, a feminine voice greeted.

Same goes for you, Taryn! Lonán responded cheerfully. Well, that settled his questioning.

"'Freaky' doesn't cover it." The Lopen pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sleeping. He wasn't dead and he also wasn't surrounded by sand or friends. Well, except this guy was supposed to be someone he'd be with for who knows how long. So far, he wasn't bad.

"Wait, you heard her too?" Ren asked through chews. There was a spark of excitement in his eyes. "I didn't know I could hear yours! Wow. That's so... huh! Neat."

"I didn't either." He shrugged.

"Do you feel your spirit's emotions?" Ren asked. "Taryn feels stuff and I feel it too, sometimes. Like, even right now I can't really tell if my excitement is mine or if it's hers. Maybe it's both?"

"Sort of. It's more like we can share if we want." The Lopen replied, and Lonán sent happiness to him.

Ren took another scoop of oatmel and hummed as he chewed, looking up in thought. He then shook his head and shrugged, as if resolving said thought on his own.

"I was told the others would have a long way to go to get here," Ren said. "I guess I lucked out, because I was already in town for a show. Did you travel far?"

The Lopen stared for a second. For one, this guy already lived here, which made sense. That also meant it was much easier to get here. The Lopen was also wearing the same clothes he had before, since clothes shopping was not on his mind, nor his priorities list. "I'm from Salachar."

"Salachar!" Ren said, his brows shooting up. "Oh, wow! I was there last year for a bit, actually! Passed through with my troupe, I don't know if you follow circus activity, but I used to be a performer. I just quit yesterday, actually. For obvious reasons."

Ren tapped the side of his head with his spoon. "Got a new 'friend,'" he said with a chuckle.

Unsettlingly, The Lopen also heard Ren's spirit - Taryn - chuckle in semi-unison. He shook his head. "Never have seen a circus before."

"Well shoot, I'll have to show you some of my tricks sometime, then," Ren said. "Just for the fun of it! Won't be a full show but I can still be pretty entertaining all by myself."

Lonán sent encouragement to him, hope. The Lopen sent annoyance back, but without anger. He nodded again. "That would be nice."

That felt weird on his tounge.

"Maybe I can even teach you some," Ren said with a little grin, stirring his oatmeal as he loaded his spoon. "Ever done a backflip?"

The Lopen perked up. "I'd like that, and no, I've never done that before."

"Well, it's really not too tricky," Ren said, taking another bite and talking through his chews. "Usually with training we start by working up your strength and your vertical leaps. If you can do a front flip, you can do a back flip. It's all about building confidence and the muscle memory, you know? If your body knows the way, it all works out. You just have to trust yourself."

The Lopen just nodded. He'd never done any flips, as getting away from people trying to kill you wasn't showy.

"So, what kind of stuff do you like to do?" Ren asked. "You know, aside from following strange new voices in your head to a random location for the thrill of it."

"Not dying is a favorite hobby of mine."

Ren chuckled at that, but his laughter quickly died down when he realized Lopen wasn't making a joke.

"Wait, really?" Ren asked, sounding more concerned. "Are... are you often at risk of dying?"

The Lopen shifted uncomfortably. "There? Yeah."

Ren blinked. "Damn. I'm sorry, man. That sounds really stressful."

He shrugged. "Just life."

"You're good right now, though, right?" Ren asked. "No, uh, near-death-events to worry about? Because if there is anybody trying to mess with you--" he pointed his spoon back and forth between the two of them. "You know I'd be right there to stop 'em, right?"

That genuinely surprised The Lopen. This trip so far was full of them, but this was the most.

"I told you that my friends will choose good people." Lonán said.

A beat.

"Besides," Ren added with a silly smirk. "One wink from me and they'd probably melt or something. No punches necessary."

"O-okay thanks." He managed to say.

"Have you eaten yet?" Ren asked, looking back up from his bowl.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," Ren said. "You'll need a good breakfast if you're going to start your training."

"Training on-?"

"Doing a flip, obviously!" Ren said with a laugh. "I didn't forget!"

"Right, yeah."

"But first let's get a feel for where you're at," Ren said. "You know, with agility. How would you describe yourself? Stead on your feet? Light? How's your balance?"

"I live a life of keeping myself alive, does that say what you need to know?"

Ren squinted, nodding for a moment as he studied The Lopen closely. Almost comedically, Ren stroked his nonexistent facial hair on his chin.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I'm catching the vibes. I understand."

He nodded.

"Alright. I have a more important question though," Ren continued. "One I've been mulling over for a while, now."

Ren brought his fingertips together in a steeple, pointing his hands at The Lopen with a very serious look.

"If you could be any animal for a day," Ren said. "What would you be?"

"Is that a normal question?" The Lopen raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Ren asked. "Of course it is! I think about this all the time. If I had to choose one, I'd be a weasel. Because they're so wiggly and cute."

Welp, there went The Lopen's understanding. But he could understand being wiggly. He nodded slowly. An image of something furry and long-bodied entered his mind. He sent Lonán thanks.

"So what would you be?" Ren asked again with a tilt of his head before he proceeded to shove a large spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.

"Cats can land on their feet pretty well. I suppose one of those." The Lopen said after a minute.

"Cats are also adorable," Ren said. "And fluffy. And they purr when they're happy or for self-comfort."

He nodded. His neck muscles were well-exercised at this point.

"I can see you as a cat," Ren said, nodding with The Lopen. "You have that kind of personality, I think. From what I've seen so far."

"I just- don't purr."

"Well of course!" Ren said. "People can't purr."

A pause. Ren squinted. "Or maybe they can..." he said, looking off to the side. What came out of him next was probably supposed to be an attempt at purring, but it sounded more like a clicking noise at the back of Ren's throat.

"Hm," Ren said, trying again only to get the same result. "Nope. I'll have to practice that, I guess!"

"Hm." The Lopen grunted.

"Did your guy say when the others were going to get here?" Ren asked, changing the subject as he cleared his bowl of its last scoop. "Lorn... Lon... something?"

"Lonán." He replied at the same time as well, Lonán. He shuddered. "He said to get here in two days, so I did that."

"Wow! All the way from Salachar. You must've moved fast!" he said. "That's impressive."

"I learned to sail."

"Really? Just yesterday?" Ren asked in genuine surprise.

"With Lonán... sharing memories? Yeah I think that's the term. He shared it and I just followed that."

"Sharing memories?" Ren said, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "They can share-- Taryn! Share a memory! I want to see how it works!"

Taryn laughed in what must have been both their heads. The Lopen didn't like another voice being in there.

Perhaps at a later time, Taryn said. I wouldn't want you to make a scene.

Ren pouted. "Make a scene... I wouldn't make a scene," he said with a sigh. "Oh well. I guess I'll wait then." Abruptly, he looked back up to The Lopen. "If you picked up sailing that fast I'm sure you'll be doing backflips in no time."

"I'm not sure." He shrugged.

"Well," Ren said, getting up from his chair. "We won't know until we start."

Extending a hand to The Lopen, Ren grinned wide.

"Want to head out back and jump around in the alley with me?" he said.

He stared at Ren's hand. "Sure."

"It's a way of greeting. You grab his hand and you shake it." Lonán told him. So tenatively, The Lopen did that.

But instead of shaking The Lopen's hand, Ren grabbed it. Tugging The Lopen up to his feet, Ren excitely led The Lopen to the door with hastened steps.

"Oh, right. That could happen too." The Lopen sent him annoyance. This wasn't what he had expected at all.

But Ren, at least, didn't seem bothered by it, and he gleefully led The Lopen out back with a transparent excitement and genuine enjoyment The Lopen hadn't expected. He never thought he'd meet someone so carefree as Ren, and he was glad he listened to the voice in his head instead of bashing it in at this moment.

After traveling most of the day, Valeska had managed to make it to Gleann and for once get some sleep as luckily Kaladin had kept his promise and let her do so. Per usual, she pitched a tent just outside of town, not wanting to use the precious amount of money she had in her purse for a room she didn't need, and set up camp to spend the night.

However, the morning came quicker then she hoped and she awoke to Kaladin telling her to get a move on once more. She didn't procrastinate as much this time though as she knew he was right. They had a long way to go, and even longer if she wasn't able to find a horse in Gleann for a good price.

As she approached the city she whispered quietly to Kaladin. "Do you know what a good price for a horse is?"

"Of course I do, but you actually have to find a horse first."

"I never would have guessed." Valeska sighed, headed for the city's stables.

There were plenty of horses there to chose from, all with varying prices. The more expensive ones were draft horses, bred for attempting to farm the valley and survive the colder temperatures in the winter along with fiery show horses hoping to catch the eye of a traveling noble from Gaeta-Tuath. The less expensive ones seemed to be almost of mix of the two, not quite as sturdy as the drafts but not quite as refined as the show horses.

"Those will do well enough." Kaladin hummed in her mind.

Valeska however, had another plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours and many miles later, Valeska rode through the pass between Trannsa Valley and the western regions of Rudeigin atop a gorgeous dapple grey friesian stallion, much to Kaladin's dismay.

The stallion was like Kaladin had suggested getting, somewhere between a show horse for the agility and speed and a draft for the sturdiness and reliability although much more expensive then he would have liked. Valeska had her heart set on it though and even though Kaladin had tried everything in his might to get her to choose a cheaper one, she had stubbornly refused and bought the stallion anyway.

Kaladin would have liked to seen what had happened if despite his advising not to get that one she had gotten it anyway and it had not been trained but sadly it was trained really well and obeyed her every command. And so for the rest of the ride he was quiet, half brooding.

Although soon enough, Valeska and her new steed which she had affectionately named Cinnamon, arrived at a fork in the road.

"You said to go north when we reached the crossroads, right?"

Kaladin was quiet for a moment before answering. "Yes I did, if you had been listening this morning you would know."

"Thank you." Valeska replied simply before looking to Cinnamon. "I guess we go north then buddy." She gently patted his neck and kissed the top of his head. "I still don't know why Kaladin didn't like you."

"I'm still here." Kaladin grumbled.

"I know." Valeska said with a smile, happily petting Cinnamon.

Kaladin huffed then resumed being a quiet backseat passenger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another couple hours and more miles passed before both Cinnamon and Valeska began to tire, stopping at a spring beside the road. Valeska carefully hopped down from Cinnamon's back and led him over to the spring to get a drink. Once he had his fill she then used a rope to tie him to a tree so he could grave the small area around him while she rested herself, pulling out some of the hawthorn berries from the day before as a light meal as Kaladin had not let her stop to at least try and catch something.

She sat down with her back to the tree Cinnamon was tied to and snacked on the berries.

"You know, aren't we supposed to be there yet? We've been going for a while now."

"We should be almost there and will be there sooner the less time you take."

"Cinnamon needs a break. I can tell. I'm not going to exhaust him. We have time still."

"Not much."

Valeska pretended to ignore the last part and didn't respond, instead closing her eyes a moment to take a light nap.

It was only a few minutes though when she woke up to the sound of something rustling in the bushes which instantly put her on alert. Last time she had heard something like that, a mountain lion had almost eaten one of her goats. Wait- no. The last time she heard it, one of her goats had gotten itself stuck in a bush. It was the time before that that had been the lion incident.

Either way though, it meant danger.

Valeska got up, her hand already straying to where her hunting knife and hatchet were as she glanced around, keeping an eye on Cinnamon. She started to check around hesitantly calling out as she remembered there were often people who took this road and she wasn't exactly in the wilds anymore.

"Hello? Is there someone out there?"

For a minute, everything was silent, even though Cinnamon looked uneasy. Then, from all sides, three bandits appeared, one from the bushes, one from behind a tree, and the last dropping from another tree's branches near Cinnamon. All had scarves to hide their faces or at least part of them and from the scars Valeska could see, she knew she couldn't take them on her own.

So she tried to reason.

"Who are you and what do you want?" She asked as she backed towards Cinnamon a little, trying her best to keep the third bandit in sight as she pulled out her hunting knife. "I don't want to hurt you, let's come to an agreement here."

Unfortunately though, her attempt at any sort of intimidation failed and the bandit directly in front of her just laughed. "I would like to see you try. How about this? You give us your horse and whatever things of value you have and we might not leave you here for the next passerby to find dead? How does that sound?"

Valeska's grip tightened on the knife, muttering under her breath. "Kaladin, some help would be nice right now!"

"And what do you want me to do? I can't talk to them, I can only talk to you."

"Not helpful!" She hissed as she looked around desperately for a plan.

She didn't have much time to think though as the bandit nearest to Cinnamon lunged for his reigns. She quickly whipped around at the movement and snatched up the rope Cinnamon was tied to and neatly severed it with one swing of her blade. Cinnamon reared, neighing in alarm from the action around him before Valeska slapped his side. "Go! Go Cinnamon!"

The Friesian stallion took off, almost running into one of the bandits in his flight as Valeska watched him go with a pang of sadness. She knew it was the right choice, she wouldn't let the bandits have him but it still upset her to lose him so fast. Although the feeling wouldn't last long if the bandits got their way.

"Behind you!" Kaladin alerted her.

She whipped around as one of the bandits tried to grab her arm and in a moment of quick thinking, managed to hit him with a well placed elbow strike to the jaw.

She felt an urge to use the knife in her hand to attack again, to fight back and fend them off but she couldn't bring herself to do that. Fighting back the urge and unknowingly Kaladin's attempt to help, she settled for a kick only to feel a sharp tug on her braid, causing her to stumble back.

One of the bandits took the chance to sweep her legs out from under her then grab her wrist after she hit the ground, plucking the knife from her hand.

"Wow, you're helpless." The one bandit sneered, tucking the knife into his own belt.

Valeska kicked his knee, causing him to stumble back with a curse as she got up and reached for her hatchet.

"And you clearly don't know when to give up." He grunted, motioning to the other two to do something.

Valeska glanced around, watching the two as they approached her again. But their footsteps came to a halt as their eyes lifted to something behind her. The light crunching of leaves indicated footsteps, but this clearly wasn't one of their own from the looks on the bandit's faces.

"I'd suggest you three back away now," a low, masculine voice said cooly.

"Or what?" The bolder of the three, clearly the leader, sneered again.

Valeska half turned to look at the newcomer, still keeping her eyes on the bandits and staying alert.

The man was tall, muscular, and intimidating from his looming stance atop a large draft horse. In his hand, he held the lead rope attached to Cinnamon, who seemed wary but calmed.

"What should I tell your families?" he asked.

The other two had already started backing away but the leader simply laughed, twirling Valeska's knife. "Like you'll be able to speak to tell them."

"I've given you more than enough fair warning," the main said, tying Cinnamon's lead to the horn of his horse's saddle. He slowly dismounted, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. His sword stayed sheathed at his side as he began to stalk towards them.

The other two looked uncertain but didn't run yet. They looked like they were about to say something when their leader, pulling out a sword of his own, charged the man.

The altercation that followed happened so quickly Valeska could hardly catch what happened.

The bandit came in swinging wildly. He heaved his sword through the air quickly, and the man opposing him dodged quickly. Without even fully drawing the sword at his side, the man jabbed the hilt of his sword in the bandit's gut so hard the bandit buckled over. Before the bandit could recover, the man swiftly popped the sword out of the bandit's hand, tossed it several yards behind them into the brush, and bend the bandit's arms behind his back, holding them in a twist that looked painful.

Suddenly humbled and on his knees, the bandit stared out at Valeska, too dumbfounded to come up with any witty comebacks this time.

"You should go home," the man said to the other two bandits. "And apologize to your mothers. Surely, these aren't the children they hoped to raise."

Seeing how easily their leader fell alone, the other two had already backed away and turned tail to run as soon as the man looked their way.

With the leader's goons gone, the man looked down at the bandit he held captive, still holding him in place.

"Preying on the weak does not make you strong," he said. "That strength should be used to protect the weak, not to harm them. Now go."

Letting the bandit go with a shove to the forest floor, the man looked down at the bandit with a sense of fatherly disappointment so potent, even Valeska could feel the shame. Scrambling away with muttered words too jumbled to make out, the bandit scattered into the bushes in the direction of his tossed sword, and then darted out to follow after his allies.

With the bandits gone, the man looked back at his horse, where Cinnamon stood in nervous anticipation. He then turned to Valeska.

"I found your horse," he said.

Valeska smiled a tiny bit although looked a little nervous of him still herself. "Thank you."

"Apologies for the rough introduction," the man said. "My name is Killian West, sent by the spirit of Bathildis the Ruthless. I was told you were in need of help. Are you hurt?"

Valeska blinked in surprise and was about to say something before she paused as Kaladin started talking in her head, driving out any thoughts of what she had just been about to say.

"Bathildis? Really? Where is Lonán? He should've been the one we found first! Not Bathildis, now I have to put up with her without Scylla the rest of the way."

"You're lucky I'm holding my tongue, Kala," a feminine voice bit back in a whisper.

Kaladin cursed.

"Kaladin, can you not?" Valeska whispered as she tried to find what she was going to say again. "It's okay, and no, I'm not hurt I don't think. You said Bathildis sent you? Another spirit?"

"Yes," Killian answered, backing up to his horse and untying Cinnamon's lead from the saddle. "There are twelve of them. They've each found a champion to choose and send to Aiteach. I assume that's where you're headed as well."

Valeska nodded, tucking her hatchet back in her belt. "I am actually. Kaladin found me and told me to go there too."

"So the story is the same between the spirits," Killian murmured, leading both horses up to Valeska by their leads, one in each hand. "It's a comfort to have confirmation."

Killian offered Valeska Cinnamon's lead, looping the end of the now-frayed rope.

"We can travel together from here, then," Killian said. "Hopefully we won't run into any more trouble."

Valeska smiled and happily took the lead before gently petting Cinnamon to calm him further. "Thank you, and hopefully we won't. Oh yeah, I'm Valeska by the way."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Valeska," Killian said, extending his now-free hand to shake.

Valeska shook his hand, her nervousness from before fading. "Nice to meet you too."

"Normally I'd hope to meet under different circumstances," Killian said as he pulled away. "Ones less strange and dire."

"Me too but had you not come in when you did, I don't really know what I would have done so thank you again for that." Valeska offered a grateful smile.

Killian smiled faintly, but his expression still seemed severe and sobered.

"I'm glad I was able to intervene and that no one was hurt," he said. "But I wasn't referring to the bandits who attacked you. I meant the mission we've been called to."

Valeska sighed a little and nodded. "I know all too well. Kaladin has told me all about it."

"Hopefully his plans are more thorough than what I've heard from Bathildis," Killian said.

"Hey," the same feminine voice butted in, this time louder in Valeska's head.

Valeska blinked in surprise at the second voice. At first the whisper she had heard she thought was Kaladin muttering or something but this time she could hear it clearly and it certainly wasn't Kaladin in the slightest. "Was that Bathildis? Just now?"

"Yes. You heard her too?" Killian said.

Valeska nodded slowly. "Yeah.. Wait, can you hear Kaladin too? Kaladin, can you say something?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Killian hummed. "And I hear Kaladin," he said. "Perhaps it's reliant on our proximity to one another. I can see this being both useful and troublesome when we all come together."

"Good point. Hopefully the others aren't too rowdy." Valeska hummed.

Killian didn't say anything to that, but the look he cast to the side seemed to convey suppressed annoyance.

"It is good to hope, isn't it," Killian said, walking to the other side of his horse and mounting into the saddle. "We should get moving. The road from here is still long if we want to make it to Aiteach in time to meet the others."

Valeska chuckled a little and mounted Cinnamon, struggling a little at first. "You're starting to sound like Kaladin."

"Which means I'm right." Kaladin chimed in.

Killian led them back out onto the road.

"Where are you traveling from, Miss Valeska?" he asked.

"Gaeta-Tuath." She answered. "So it's been a long day."

Killian shot Valeska a worried look. "All by yourself?" he asked.

Valeska nodded as if it were no big deal. "Mhm, we last stopped in Gleann where I got Cinnamon."

"Pardon my asking, Miss Valeska, but how old are you?" Killian asked.

"Ninteen." She raised a brow. "Why?"

Somehow, Killian managed to look simultaneously relieved and distressed.

"I was hoping the spirits would've had the discretion to not drag someone so young into this fight," he said softly.

"What do you mean? I can do this! It's not like I have anything else to do."

Killian's eyes saddened, and he looked out to the road, unable to hold her gaze.

"I'm sure you can, Miss Valeska," he said quietly. "But remember this burden is not yours alone to carry."

Valeska nodded a little. "Alright."

"So, we're not even in Aiteach yet? We should have been there hours ago." Kaladin complained.

"Just be glad Killian was here to save your 'champion's' ass," Bathildis replied. "Or your trip would've ended here."

"Had she listened and just used the blade in her hand like I tried to get her to, that whole mess would've been over with in less then a minute."

"But she didn't!" Bathildis interjected. "How does it feel, having to have your old pal Bathildis save you again? This is what, the ten-thousandth time? Really, Kala, I don't know what kind of vetting process you went through to find this girl."

[i]"And what was your vetting process? Muscles, check. Weight you can throw around, check. A sword, check."

"Have you discovered a way to shut them out, yet?" Killian asked dryly as they swayed on their saddles with each horse's gait.

"Excuse you," Bathildis said, raising her voice. "At least I picked someone who can fight! Because gods know that twiggy kid won't be able to behead Nathair like he deserves!"

"Did you see the way she fought off that cougar when she had her goats? At least she's got spirit! Oh wait, no you didn't you were off throwing a fit because Roland got to the one you wanted first and then you chose this guy without a second thought."

Killian let out a heavy sigh. He cast a weary glance Valeska's way.

Valeska rubbed her temple with one hand. "I wish. It would make sleeping a whole lot easier."

"That it would," Killian agreed.

And, as if neither of them had said a word, Kaladin and Bathildis's voices continued to overlap with one another as their bickering grew louder and heated.

"That's not true," Bathildis objected. "I picked Killian because he's got something to fight for. You picked sheepherder because she leads - what - sheep? You think she can lead an army?"

"Goats actually! Do you even know how stubborn goats can be? I absolutely think she can lead an army with my help."

"Of course I know how stubborn goats can be, because I've met you!" Bathildis shot back.

"What, like you're better yourself? If anything you're worse!" Kaladin retorted.

Bathildis cackled. "Oh, this is going to be a loooooong trip, Kaladin."

"It's only going to be long until we find Scylla. Then I can tell your little girlfriend all about you being a pain the whole way there."

"You wouldn't." Bathildis threatened.

"Oh I absolutely would." Kaladin replied, sounding confident again, almost overly so.

"If you do then I'm telling Lonán what you did in Geata-Tuath that summer," Bathildis threatened with some vague sort of blackmail Valeska knew nothing about.

"Don't you dare." Kaladin growled.

"Then I guess we're both keeping our mouths shut," Bathildis said with a huff.

"Finally," Killian muttered.

"I guess so." Kaladin grumbled.

Valeska sighed in exasperated relief now that they had finally stopped bickering. "How long does it take to save the world?"

Killian looked to her in questioning: he didn't seem clear on who she was addressing.

She glanced over at him when neither of the spirits answered. "Any guesses?"

"Longer than any of us have planned for," Killian said.

Valeska sighed. "Lovely..."

Cozamel was running out of ways to politely decline the offer. He'd made every sort of excuse imaginable, from explaining that he was the sole owner of his pottery shop and thus had to be there every day, that he had to be there in case anything happened to his parents or siblings, that he simply wasn't one for adventure... But the voice in his head persisted.

He tossed a lump of clay on the wheel. It was early in the morning, before his shop opened. But the voice in his head seemed just as energetic as the night before, when he'd started to hear it.

"I chose you for your kindness," Ianthe the Gentle reminded Coz, her voice a soft whisper in his mind. "You are needed. The others cannot save the world without you. Do you not hear it? The cries of the souls suffering under the reign of King Nathair?"

Something in Coz shuddered in agreement, but he shoved it down. He couldn't- couldn't just uproot his entire life to meet a group of strangers and... what, overthrow a king? How did one even begin to do that? That was something straight out of a legend. It wasn't for a simple potter like himself. He hardly even left his shop nowadays.

But the people on the streets, those he'd tried to help, before... That part of Coz that agreed bobbed back to the surface. This time, it was harder to shove it down.

"You do see it," Ianthe observed. Somehow, he heard a smile in her voice, and a gentle feeling of encouragement. "Please. Give them a chance. I know it's a long journey from Geata-Tuath to Aiteach, but it is a worthy one. You could help so many."

Coz stared at the kiln, his thoughts wandering as his hands shaped the pot from memory. How did she know exactly what arguments to use, to slip through the cracks in his porcelain shell? Yes, once he had tried to help as many as he could.

"But it's never worth it," he said softly. He'd lent money to his siblings and friends when they fell on hard times. And what happened? One of his dearest friends ran away with his money and one of his siblings grew to resent him for his generosity that reminded him of what he didn't have. If he only made things worse when he tried to help, what was the point? And besides, there were always more beggars to feed, more people to help, and it was all... it was all just overwhelming.

Ianthe was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "You don't really believe that." Her voice grew firmer and more confident, filling his mind. "It's fear, isn't it? Fear is stopping you from leaving your current life."

Coz suffocated the brief flash of irritation that flared up at her words. Who was she to analyze him like that? And was she able to look into his memories and thoughts somehow? Carefully, he replied, "So what if it is? In any case, I'm not comfortable with closing my shop, and there's no one I trust enough to run it for me. And someone's got to sell the vases."

"Ah, of course. I must say your works are rather tasteful. But tell me, is selling a vase--even a very nice vase--more important than the fate of the world?" She sounded almost mischievous as she continued, "Oh, I know! I bet a powerful spirit lives in that pot over there, and requires daily polishing, or else it'll escape and wreak havoc on the continent. Wait, no, that plate is actually a cursed human and your true love, and they'll get lonely if you leave them alone for too long!"

Coz sputtered. "Now you're just making fun of me."

Ianthe sighed. "I thought it'd at least get a smile out of you."

He tried to remember the last time he'd smiled. It took a rather long time. "Never mind that. Say, you mentioned kindness. Is it kind to force a person into doing something?" he prodded.

"I prefer to think of it as gently persuading," Ianthe replied.

"Hmm." Coz focused on the pot. "Well, I don't think it's kind to refuse to give a person a choice. My answer is a polite no, for the nineteenth time."

Ianthe kept talking, but Coz absorbed himself in his work, letting the spinning of the wheel spin his thoughts away as well. If none of his polite reasons worked, maybe he'd try silence.



Coz found that customers were also an effective distraction from the voice in his head. The first person who entered his shop that day was an elderly lady who looked rather as if she was trying to imitate a flowering bush. She wore a green dress patterned with camellias and a straw hat with a glorious assortment of colorful blooms.

She looked around the shop for a moment, looking as if she was wondering why she'd entered. Then she smiled mildly and wandered over to the section with small containers, the hat bobbing on her head as she did so. "Why, these are celadon, aren't they?" she asked.

Coz brightened and he hurried over. "Yes, they are! Do you happen to have experience with pottery?"

"Oh, just a little. My husband's parents collect antiques." She waved a wrinkled hand in the air. "The house is filled with them. Figured I might as well learn what makes them special."

Coz nearly, almost smiled. "There's a lot that makes pottery special."

Sunlight slanted through the windows at the front and glazed the ceramic pieces in a warm glow. Coz breathed in the scent of clay and history. How could he ever leave this place? No matter if it felt like something was missing sometimes; better a boring, peaceful life than a risky, interesting one, no?

Ianthe resurfaced in his mind and murmured, "But you are needed."

And again Coz was beset by doubts, and he fought against the traitorous parts of himself that insisted that he could be doing more if he only was courageous enough to venture out of his usual life. He was happy here, wasn't he?

He returned to reality just in time to see the elderly lady about to walk into the cobblestone street and greet a cart with her face.

Coz moved on instinct, leaping out of his shop and grabbing her arm to halt her. At the same time, the cart's driver yelped and pulled the horses to an abrupt stop. The crowd swirled around them, murmuring in shock, a sharp contrast to the hat that floated to the ground as if it hadn't a care in the world.

Coz became suddenly aware of all the eyes and released the lady's arm. He tried to slink back into his shop, but the cart's driver jumped down and exclaimed, "Oh, thank you!" The driver stooped to grab the hat and return it to the lady. His brown eyes widened as he straightened up. "That's my mother you just saved."

"Oh?" Coz mumbled. He darted a glance at the crowd. It was no busier than when he went to the market, but having everyone's attention on him... it was decidedly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if she was a bother," the man apologized. "I've been looking for her all day. She hasn't quite been right ever since her husband died, and she tends to wander off..."

"Oh, John is just a bit late for dinner," the lady said crossly.

The man sighed and smiled wearily. "In any case, is there anything I can offer you, young man? We're heading towards Aiteach, if you happen to need a ride."

Coz blinked at him. "N-" he started to say, but then a powerful urge to agree filled him, and he said, "Yes, a ride would be wonderful." He frowned, but the man was already grinning at him.

"How good is your cooking?" the man asked as he helped his mother back onto the cart. "I'm Erpic, by the way."

"I'm Cozamel, or Coz. And my cooking is decent," Coz said reluctantly. This was Ianthe's fault, wasn't it?

"Sometimes we all need a little nudge," she said, sounding entirely too satisfied.

The rebellious part of Coz was practically dancing on the ceiling. He grunted. "Could I have a moment to collect some of my belongings?"

"Of course!" Erpic pulled the cart over to the side of the road, now that the crowd had dispersed. Coz ducked back into his shop.

He'd agreed to join them, and it'd be rude to back out now. So, Coz gathered a change of clothes, some dried food, a waterskin, and a few small ceramic pieces into a rucksack. Hopefully they could stop by his parents' place on the way and he could bid them farewell.

Back in the main room of the shop, Coz surveyed the shelves of pottery with a sense of nostalgia. He remembered the day he'd made each piece. He knew their stories. And now... he doubted he'd return anytime soon.

Was he scared? Yes. Did a part of him sing out in joy at the opportunity to finally, maybe make a lasting difference? Also yes.

So Coz stepped out of his shop. Had the sunlight always gleamed on the polished wood of the cart like that? Was the morning fall air always this refreshing?

He nodded at Erpic and his mother and pulled himself up and into the cart.

Hori scurried through the streets of Meadhan, heading for the blacksmith's place. His name was Erdo, and he was a middle aged man who was in pretty good shape for his age. He was taught the traditional way of forging, and he also allowed Hori to watch him. Hori had been watching him for 3 hours a day, for 5 days so far. Erdo didn't just craft handy things, in his own time when he wasn't he'd craft something small, but beautiful.

There were so many things he could do, and while most his age probably already was working, he was still learning. He was going to be a keeper of knowledge. Nothing specific, just knowledge.

Erdo liked to work early morning and late evening, when it wasn't so hot. Hori had other learning to do in the morning, so he came here before getting ready to sleep. He slept about an hour earlier than most people, as he was supposed to get a certain amount of hours to function as his peak performance.

"Hello Erdo!" Hori called out cheerfully, sitting on a stool meant for him. It was crafted by Erdo himself.

"Hori! How was today's lessons?" Erdo smiled, and continued his work.

"Just angles. Lots of angles. If I were to throw something, I could make it hit all four walls of a room!"

Erdo chuckled. "That sounds like a wonderful skill to have."

"Yeah, it just takes a lot of math. It hurt my brain the first hour, but I'm calculating it faster now!" He beamed. He enjoyed talking to Erdo, who was one of the few people who didn't care about his age and how he acted. He stayed there until it was late, and he headed back to his home.

Mount Anam had gone dark, so when he looked it looked like well, a normal mountain. Just then, as he was looking at the mountain, he felt something weird. He couldn't really describe it as anything else other than the feeling of something seeping into him. He shuddered and continued to walk.

As if right beside him, a voice spoke. "Hello, don't worry, I'm not here of any devious means."

Hori stopped walking, and looked beside him, where nobody was. He looked around, still no one in eyesight. He hadn't heard anyone either. As for that feeling from before... "No devious means you say?"

"None at all. It's rather late to be out though."

Still no one in sight. "True. Who are you?"

Scenes flooded his mind, ones that weren't his own that he experienced. Memories from someone else. He reached out to the wall to make sure he didn't fall.

"I am Varen the Practical. You've been chosen to go on a quest."

"What kind?"

"One to save Rudeigin of course."

"Probability of death?" Hey, you had to know.

"At the moment, unknown, but with me, relatively low."

"Are there others?" He entered the side door of his family's mansion.

"Of course. There are eleven others, all meeting at a place in Aiteach called A Good Knight's Rest."

"How long do I have to get there?"

"About a day or two."

"I'll leave tomorrow morning."

"Excellent." Varen sounded quite pleased.

"I never did tell you my name. I'm Hoririho, but you can just call me Hori." He entered his room.

"Hori, that's a nice name."

"Thank you. I like yours too, as well as your accomplishments."

"Thank you. Do you know of me and the others then?"

"Of course!" He blew out the candles, and hopped into his bed. "Anyways, good night!"

He closed his eyes, and he thought about it. It would be exciting to travel! He'd learn so many new things, all that he could remember and write down he would.



With a full stomach and a good nights sleep, Hori had convinced his parents to let him visit Aiteach. He sat in the carriage, watching the land as they drove by. "So how are you here? Do you have a form or are you sort of just riding with me?"

"I don't have a form exactly. I can look around and see you but am forced to stay near you and not go far."

"How far is that range? Also with this sort of... connection, does this affect you or me, besides the fact you're dead from 300 years ago and now is communicating with a living person?"

"I don't know all of the specifics. I'm learning right along side you. As for range, only a few feet. Maybe five or six?"

"Huh." Hori nodded. Guess that makes sense. "What would be a good experiment to run?"

"I'm not sure. I can communicate with you just fine although as of right now it appears I cannot do anything else."

"Huh, okay." He nodded. He never did travel much, so this would be a good opportunity to watch how they steered the horses. He opened the door and got out, just standing on the side step as he closed the door. He shuffled towards the front where the driver sat.

"Careful now."

"I'm always careful." He swung up onto the seat and sat next to the driver.

"I'm really hoping you live up to that."

Probably not, but it was reassuring to say. Hori thought, and watched the driver (who didn't know much to make of someone suddenly hopping into the seat like that).

"Do you know how to ride a horse?"

"Yes, and what to do when one is in labor."

The driver looked at Hori funny. "Are ye okay lad?"

"Yeah, I'm just having a conversation." Hori grinned. The driver stared for another second before shaking his head.

"Very impressive. Not quite sure about the others but you'll make a great addition to the team." Varen replied with a sense of satisfaction.

Wait, he felt that and it wasn't from himself- "Oh!"

"What is it?"

"You felt satisfied or content there, didn't you?" More weird looks from the driver.

"Yes... how did you know? It clearly wasn't in my voice since you asked if I felt it. Did you feel it too?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay! Well then I guess we can share feelings, that's something. I wonder what else I or we can do..."

Hori nodded, thinking.

"Are ye done talking to yourself lad?" The driver asked him.

"Oh I'm never done with that. If I didn't I'd surely be dead."

"Well could ye take it inside the carriage?" He thumbed backwards.

"Sure, I don't see why my thoughts would bother you."

"It's not your thoughts, it what's coming out of yer mouth." The driver replied as Hori made his way back into the carriage.

"Okay so, talking out loud to you weirds people out. If emotions can be shared, can thoughts?" Hori asked once he was in and sitting down cross-legged.

"Maybe. No harm in trying."

Testing. Hori thought.

"I didn't quite get that."

"What do you mean?"

"I did hear something but it was very quiet. I couldn't quite make it out."

"Huh, okay." He sat there, and contemplated. What was new? Well, everything was, but what was different? That's not a better phrasing. He closed his eyes and mentally poked around. Maybe if he focused on that new feeling... testing, 1,2,3

"Excellent, I heard it that time."

Cool! Hori grinned.

Varen hummed happily. "I'm glad that worked."

"Ditto!" The carriage pulled to a halt, and Hori hopped out. He thanked the driver and told him to go back to Meadhan. He had stopped on the other side of the road from the tavern. "That's a nice looking tavern."

"It is indeed. We hoped you and the others would like it."

"Well I like it. Do you think anyone else is here already?"

"Probably not quite yet. Kaladin is coming all the way from Gaeta-Tuath."

"Oh wow, that's a long ways in 2 days."

"I tried to convince him that but I suppose he wanted to test who he chose. The poor girl's going to be exhausted when she finally gets here."

"I don't doubt it." He agreed, entering the Tavern. It was full of hearty conversation.

"I just hope he doesn't go too hard on her."

"Is he often hard on people?"

"Sometimes. He means the best but its hard to tell sometimes. It doesn't help that I think his main motivation is vengence."

"So what is your main motivation?" He found a table to sit at that was pretty out of the way, yet had a good view of the place so he could watch people.

"Make sure everyone stays alive."

"So what's the probability of someone getting close to death?"

"That depends on how many plans of rushing headfirst into danger the rest have." Varen sighed.

"Who's most likely?"

"Probably Bathildis, then Kaladin, Myrna and Thalor being a close third. Although Kaladin would just rush in himself and try not to lead the rest in."

Hori hummed. "Makes sense."

"Mhm."

"Which in turn would have everyone else follow them. Well most, depending on the foreseeable outcome of the fight."

"Exactly. That's the problem."

"But would you prefer only one to charge in while everyone watches them die, or everyone to help and tip the scale in their favor so you can scold them after?"

"Kaladin made it to be king, didn't he? I think you know what I chose."

"Obviously."

"I wonder if anyone else is here yet..."

"I don't see anyone else who's talking to themselves."

"I suppose maybe not then. Unless they found another and are talking to them."

"Well not everyone is coming from Aiteach so some of them will stand out, won't they?"

"Absolutely."

"I guess we'll just have to wait. Do any brawls happen here?"

"I mean, it's a tavern, there's bound to be one every now and then."

"That would be interesting to watch."

"I suppose..."

He smiled, and sat back. Even with people running into fights, he was excited. He'd learn to fight for one.

The night sky of Aitreach shimmered with the silver stars and moon. It was quiet and peaceful for the inhabitants. Except one. Curled up in her bed, fast asleep, Annaliese tossed and turned until her blankets had all but fallen off.

Her dreams were filled with sounds and experiences she had never encountered before in all her life. Fire, blizzards, fierce predators with gleaming eyes and wicked fangs.

She woke up with a start and sat up. Her skin felt slick with sweat.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Her room was the same old room it had always been. A gentle breeze flowed through the window, taking some of the heat off of her. Annaliese sighed in relief, massaging her neck.

"Just a dream, then," she muttered.

Just a dream?, a voice said suddenly. That was a full-on adventure!

Annaliese jolted out of her bed, landing in a heap on the floor. Tangled in her blankets, she stumbled, trying to get up, and looking around wildly.

"Wha---Who said that?" she cried. "Who's there?"

A friend. Take a deep breath, Anna.

"There's a voice in my head," Annaliese said. "Am I going crazy?"

Nope, perfectly sane. But listen: My name is Thalor the Brave. I need your help. You must join with a group of others at a tavern called A Good Knight's Rest. You've been there, I presume?

Annaliese nodded. "All the time."

Good. There's not much time to spare. You have been chosen to go on a quest. We leave first thing tomorrow. We're already running late.

"Wait, wait. Quest? What quest?"

Annaliese felt something akin to a smirk.

Why, a quest to save the world of course.

The sound of cackling taunted Aris's subconscious as she lay twitching in her sleep. That wretched laughter she so desperately wanted to silence in the most brutal way she could muster. She felt her fingers flexing as she thought about lashing out, but couldn't bring herself to swing. Part of her still had enough sense to realize it was only a memory.

A memory of that laughter, drowning out her own groans of pain. She refused to cry out, she refused to cooperate, and as a result, she suffered a loss that she would never fully recover from...

Aris lurched up into a sitting position, drawing a small curved knife. As the visions faded, she instinctively reached down toward her right leg. Still numb, still missing, just a hunk of unrefined, shoddy metal.

With a grunt of irritation, Aris stabbed her knife into the tree she had been laying under. She slowly got up and searched the area.

Well on the path to Aiteach, she had found this quiet space and took advantage of it to rest up. This region was like a hybrid between the marshlands she knew well, and a wet forest. There were trees all around, but patches of thick mud and puddles were everywhere. A small gorge acted as the perfect temporary shelter, especially with bramble to help enclose the top, and gnarled tree roots for her to shelter under.

Aris stretched, then approached the buckskin mare she had snatched for a fair price, thanks to Roland's tips on bartering. From the pack attached to its saddle, she pulled out a jar of water and a slice of bread, procceding to gorge through this quick, humble breakfast.

In her mind, she could hear Roland start speaking, and she narrowly refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Good morning, Miz Blackridge."

"You're talking already?" Aris grumbled. "It's too early for your nonsense."

"I figured you may say something like that. However, seeing as how we find ourselves in a safe region, and the day is quite young, I thought you may be interested in a round of training. You've already made good progress on your quest, and I did promise to share some things to help you along."

"Hm..." Perking up, Aris shoved the last of the bread into her mouth, then stuck the jar back into the pack. Her words were muffled by the food; "Bring it on."

"Ah...Very well then..."

Sensing his tone of distaste, Aris couldn't help sneering. Only a noble would be so iffy about poor manners.

"Hey, you chose to haunt me," she spat. "You're getting the full package whether you like it or not, and I'm not about to start acting like some little pomeranian for your comfort."

"Yes, of course. Forgive me, Miz Blackridge."

"Whatever," Aris muttered. She grabbed her morning star, brandishing it. "So, what are we doing?"

"Terribly sorry, but the tactics I'm about to teach you will require something less blunt, as you may recall me mentioning before. Do you still have that metal rod?"

Aris groaned, "You can't be serious..." She slid the long, rusty rod out of the pack. "How do you expect me to fight using this?!"

"It's not the optimal tool, but the essence is still there. Now give yourself some room, preferably a fair distance from the horse. You don't want to spook her."

Naturally, Aris was hesitant. She already had a huge disadvantage, now she was expected to learn how to fight with a tool like this? The more she thought about how anything learned with a rod could be applied in real time, the more she imagined a poor knockoff version of fighting with a cheap wand of a weapon. The way she learned, strength trumped everything. And nothing about this read 'strength' to her.

However, all it took was one glance toward her feet to remind her that she didn't have much of a choice.

Aris sighed heavily, then stepped further away from the horse. She managed to find a dry patch of land with no mud or roots to trip her up.

"Alright. The way you learned combat, I imagine was quite straightforward and focused on fists. Something like a bar brawl, perhaps."

"Actually, that's a good comparison," Aris muttered.

"Well, this way, we're going to start by focusing on the feet. Stance and posture will change everything-"

"How does that affect anything?!" Aris snapped.

"It would be great if you could reserve your questions. Do you want to learn or not?"

Aris grunted with contempt.

"Very good. Now, pay attention. Straighten your back, align your shoulders, and step one foot at a time..."

As Roland continued to instruct her, Aris found herself in a stance resembling a fencer -one of those knockoff styles of combat she imagined before. Every time she was instructed to step forward or back, lunge, or even take swing, she heard Roland snap about focusing on her posture, like each tiny movement was meant to be a precise calculation. She kept wanting to protest and resort to what she knew, but with Roland threatening to stop the lesson each time, she could barely even get a word in. Useful or not, this spirit was quickly getting on her nerves, and she had the urge to peel him from her mind somehow.

However, after a few moments, she started to realize something. Several minutes had passed, and she had swung multiple times. Yet she didn't once fall, and she barely even staggered. Even on her bad leg.

As she tested the prosthetic, wondering if something was wrong with it, she heard Roland chuckle.

"You can already see the difference, can you not?"

"This isn't fighting, this is fencing," Aris argued. "A sport, I would daresay a hobby, for snobs like you. If I did this in half the spaces I used to dwell, I'd be dead by now."

"At your level, of course that's true. But the core of fencing is balance, and the same applies to several forms of swordsmanship. As you can clearly see, that's exactly the type of structure you need."

Unable to think of a good argument, Aris grunted and slumped to the ground, smacking the rod against a twig so it broke.

"I know it will be a challenge for you to unlearn and relearn what you know, especially given how important combat is to you and your identity. But the blatant truth is this; either you think outside the box and find a new strategy, or you make no progress at all and keep finding yourself on the ground -figuratively and literally."

"Shut up," Aris grumbled, standing back up. "I'll keep it up, but I'm still suspicious of you, got it? Now teach me something that's actually going to do damage."

"Steady on now. You've learned the basics, and the sun seems quite high by now. I think that's enough for one session. I must insist you get back on the trail and proceed toward the tavern. We must be a little over halfway there by now. If you ride fast enough with no interruptions, I'm sure you can make it by nightfall."

Aris sighed, "You're going to make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?"

"That's enough for now, Miz Blackridge. I will leave you to your devices so you may ride in peace."

Figuring that was all she'd get out of the spirit, Aris took the rod back to the horse. She slid her morningstar onto her back, then hopped on. It was only a short way down the gorge that there was a good spot to climb out, and soon after, she made it to the faint path she remembered. In moments, she was riding at a steady canter, deeper into the marshy woodland.

As Aris rode on, her mind drifted back to what she heard and saw while asleep. It had been taunting her subconscious for a long time, and it still annoyed her. Perhaps, on a much deeper level she didn't want to explore, it even made her uneasy.

It always came back to that sickening laughter. The faces of those wretched people, mocking her and her suffering.

Before she could shake in fear, she clenched her fists and let them shake in fury. There was no point in being downtrodden. Nothing was fair or just in the underworld she came from, it was all just a game. She won many rounds, then lost badly. That was all there was to it. And surely, even that was better than being beholden to noble rats, like Roland clearly had been in his own life. She would find her footing and play again, and with hope, she could strike back at the vermin that did this to her.

"Hey, Detestable," Aris said flatly.

Roland responded, "You called, Miz Blackridge?"

"Yes. How long would it take to figure out your whole new 'strategy,' exactly?"

"Hm...That's quite hard to figure. Obviously, the quest will take up a lot of time. However, it's not as if I'm working with a blank canvas. Likewise, if rumors from my comrades are correct, I may be able to share a bit of my muscle memory with you so as to expedite learning."

Aris shuddered. "You spirits are creepy. But, whatever. Soon enough?"

"It would seem so."

"Good," Aris spat. "I have some people I need to catch up with, if you know what I mean. And the sooner I can..."

Suddenly, a faint noise caught her attention. Like a rabid dog hungry for prey, her eyes snapped onto the horizon surrounding her, scanning for the slightest difference. She slowly brought the horse to a stop.

"Is something the matter, Miz-"

"Can it, Detestable," Aris growled.

She listened harder, and heard it again.

"You know, that stick there would make a fine sword." A masculine voice said, a little sternly in her mind. However, it wasn't Roland's this time. "You really do need to learn how to wield one sooner rather then later and we have plenty of time left to build a fire for cooking."

Aris reached for her weapon--her morning star, not the rod. "No, no, no! Get out! I am not dealing with two of you prats! Roland--tell your buddy to move on, NOW!"[/i]

Roland calmly responded, "Please calm yourself, Miz Blackridge. Though I didn't expect an encounter like this until we reached the tavern..."

Not far away, a girl looked up from behind a bush with a large bundle of sicks in her arms. she had a couple leaves in her long flaxen hair and she blinked at Aris with bright blue eyes. "You can hear them too?"

"Roland!"[i] The second spirit's voice called cheerily, [i]"What a relief to have someone else with us already. Bathildis has been a pain this whole way. You're much better company."

"Hey, what about me?" The girl asked, "I'm here to keep you company too. It's not like it's just you and Bathildis."

Her lip curling with irritation, Aris hopped off the horse, her iron leg making a heavy metallic 'thud' against the ground. She stormed over to the girl with a menacing glare, hand resting on her morning star's hilt.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Aris spat. "And what do you know about these annoying spirits?"

"I'm Valeska." She said, barely taking a step back as her hand fell instinctually to the hatchet at her side. She didn't seem scared, but she did seem at least a little intimidated and ready for a fight if needed. "And as for the spirits, I know a bit but I keep meeting people with them and I'm guessing we're all going to the same place."

The spirit seemed to chuckle a little. "I can see why Bathildis wanted you. Roland, I wish you luck because you're going to have hell to pay with her and we haven't found Scylla yet."

Roland sighed, "I was aware this would be a challenge, but I'm not backing down now. It's not as if I could anyway."

Aris shook her head. "Too many voices, not enough bodies to make sense..." She groaned, "I hate this!"

Roland responded to her, "As the lady here pointed out, perhaps you should be more concerned about your quest, and your next destination?"

"Huh? Whatever..." Aris nodded to her. "Let me guess, some tavern in Aiteach, that these bodiless jesters told you about?"

Valeska nodded quickly. "Yep! It was something about a knight as well..."

"A Good Knight's Rest." The second spirit corrected her, "That's where we're headed to meet the others."

"Others?" Aris muttered. "How many of you are there?"

"Oh, has Roland not told you? There's a legend about it." The spirit said with a self imposed sense of importance. "I'm Kaladin, the leader. Then there's Lonan, my best friend, Roland, Bathildis, Scylla, Taryn-"

He was about to continue and ramble off the rest of the spirit's names before Valeska cut him off with a sigh. "There's ten others beside us so twelve in total."

"Grr..." Aris's eyes narrowed as she glared up, like she was trying to see into her own head. "Are you withholding information, Detestable? Because that will get you killed--again."

"With all due respect, Miz Blackridge, I haven't been able to divulge nearly as much information between your constant calls for me to 'shut up' and--with all due respect--our lessons to keep you from falling literally head-over-heels."

"Hey--shut up!" Aris snapped. "What's the purpose anyway, huh? We get there, then what?"

"I told you it would become clearer upon arrival. And I also offered more information on that, which you denied."

Aris stewed in bitter silence--numb to humiliation, but all too angry.

Valeska picked up on her anger quite quickly despite her silence. "Killian, another I guess champion they call us? are travelling together and we stopped to take a rest and make some food. Would you like to join us? There's plenty to go around." She offered.

Aris sneered, "What's in it for me?"

Roland argued, "She did just offer rations, and you're quite low by now. I told you, it'd take more to last the journey..."

"And I told you I'm fine going hungry a day or two, done it before--unlike you fat nobles. Hmm..." Aris grunted. "Fine. But only because I want to gauge who I'll be dealing with as this...whatever this is drags on."

Valeska smiled a tiny bit once Aris accepted her offer. "Okay, I'll gather a bit more wood for a fire- and apparently a sword- then I can lead you back to our camp. It's a bit of a walk but not too far from here."

"Good," Aris muttered, turning to grab the horse's reins.

While Valeska finished gathering wood, Aris heard one more quieter remark from Roland; "Good decision, Miz Blackridge. It's always safer to travel in groups, you know."

"I used to be the 'group' security," Aris muttered. "Doesn't make a difference to me. But from here on out, I'm keeping a closer eye on you, Detestable."

"Okay, tell me again why you're traveling to some place you've never been to before," said Jaxon.
Annaliese huffed an impatient sigh. "Because the voice of a dead guy in my head told me that if I don't, the world will be in peril. Come on, Jaxon, keep up."
Her fiancé stared at her. "Oh, you're right, my bad. I should've caught on the moment 'dead guy' and 'inside head' was mentioned in the same sentence."
In response, she threw her nightshirt at him.
"I'm serious! He says his name is Thalor the Brave--- his words, not mine.
"I object," Thalor said.
"Shut up," she snapped.
"Um, I didn't say anything?" Jaxon said.
"I wasn't talking to you." Annaliese pointed at her head. "Dead guy in here, remember? Nightshirt, please."
"Right..." He folded the clothing neatly and handed it back to her. Annaliese pushed it deep in her knapsack, where it squished up against the other clothing she was bringing. At Jaxon's scandalized look, she winced and let out a deep sigh.
"Well now you've done it" Thalor said.
Thank you, Detective she snapped back as sarcastically as she could in her mind.
"I'm sorry, Jaxon," she said. "It's just, this is a lot to take in right now. I shouldn't be snapping at you."
"Hey, it's okay," he said, reaching for her hand. She smiled tiredly and took it. "I can't say I understand what you're going through, with this Thalor guy and all that, but I'm here for you, through the good and the bad."
Annaliese's smile fell. "We've been through so much bad already." She leaned into his chest and nuzzled in deeper when she felt his arms wrap around her. "I'm so tired of it. I want to have good, tasty food---" she blushed--- "and I want to marry you."
He chuckled. "You know, we could get married at the courthouse."
She looked up at him and frowned. "I want an actual wedding, music, dancing, a pretty dress." She mumbled the last part.
Rarely had she ever gotten to show her femininity through her clothes, especially as she got older. The amount of fieldwork and the little payment in return had taken up so much of her time that she could count the number of times she wasn't in her work overalls on one hand. Annaliese's mind wandered to the younger kids she saw begging on the sides of the streets for any morsel of food. The elderly people who worked the fields from the first time they could walk until they took their last breath, unable to even take a moment's rest because they needed the money.
She unraveled herself from Jaxon and took a deep breath. "This suffering has gone on long enough," she said. "And, if I'm actually not imagining a long dead man's voice in my head, then I was chosen to help people. Maybe along the way, I'll become the hero Thalor says I am."
"You're already a hero in my eyes," Jaxon said, ruffling her hair. She playfully smacked his hand away.
"Aww, young love," Thalor sniffed. "I'm wiping a tear away with my finger in case you were wondering. Now, GET A MOVE ON! We must hurry to the meeting place. Only once you are all together will change finally happen!
At Thalor's sudden increase in volume, Annaliese jumped. Then she scowled. "Alright, alright, I'm hurrying." She rolled her eyes at Jaxon. "Spirits, right?"
"Totally," he said, giving her an unconvincing smile. Annaliese turned around and patted down her traveling bag, mentally checking off everything she had that she would need.
"Okay," she sighed. "I guess I have everything." She pulled the strings closed and fastened them together, then she slung the bag over her shoulders. The physical weight of the bag made her realize the metaphorical weight of what she was about to do. She glanced up at her fiancé. Was this the last time she'll see him for a long time? Her vision blurred, but she blinked the tears away. No, she had to stay strong. If she cried now, she knew she wouldn't stop.
"Annaliese, I---" Jaxon started to say, but she didn't let him finish. She pulled him down to her level by the front of his tunic and kissed him full on the mouth. Deep in her mind, she felt Thalor gag, but she didn't care. She needed to be close to her fiancé for the remaining time they had.
Finally, she broke the kiss and leaned just far enough that their eyelashes brushed together. "I love you, darling," she whispered.
"I love you too," he whispered back. "Go be a hero."

Jaxon's words echoed inside Annaliese's head. She leaned against the window of the coach, watching the people toil in the fields.
"You doing okay?" Thalor asked.
"I don't know," she replied. "Thalor, I don't know if I could ever be brave like you."
You are brave, Annaliese. I chose you for a reason.
"But why?" she asked. "What's so special about me?"
She felt like he was about to say something, but she was suddenly distracted by tall buildings. They had reached the next town.
The coachman pulled the horses to a stop and he called down to Annaliese, "Your stop, Miss."
She stepped out of the vehicle and looked up at the sign: The Good Knight's Rest. They were here.

"No, not that one, it's too short. And not that one either, it has a curve to it. I can only teach you swordsmanship if you have a perfectly straight stick that is just the right length. I didn't fight with a curved sword when I was alive, only a perfectly straight one."

Valeska sighed in exasperation. She had been looking for a "perfectly straight stick" for nearly ten minutes now out of a large pie of sticks that had clearly been moved off of the road and not one of them had satisfied Kaladin yet.

"How in the world am I supposed to find a perfectly straight stick when those don't even exist?" She asked the spirit, tugging a hand through her long and mildly tangled hair.

"They exist, you just have to find the right one."

"If I keep spending too long here Miss... Blackridge? Might get impatient and might leave us. And we need her." Valeska muttered back to the spirit sternly. "You're going to have to do with this stick here, it's the straightest out of the bunch."

Kaladin did not reply but Valeska could sense his discontentment.

Sighing once more, she picked up the bundle of firewood in her arms and held the sword stick separately before turning to see if her new companion was ready to head back to camp yet or not.

"I don't know why I'm still here," Aris muttered. Yet, she did not make any moves to leave. She took the reins of her horse and yanked them, letting out an annoyed grunt in the process.

Valeska offered a bit of a smile and motioned for her to follow. "Camp is right this way. We have enough wood for a nice fire now. By the way, is there something in particular you like eating? We might be able to make it."

"Whatever's edible," Aris said flatly. "Rule one of surviving in the underworld, don't get picky."

Valeska blinked at her response as she began to lead the way but could understand her reasoning pretty well. It was the same way in the wilds. "I guess that's fair."

Aris could hear Roland scolding her, "Do try to be more courteous, Mis Blackridge, these people are trying to help us, and they are-"

"Stop telling me how to operate, you're lucky I'm even here," Aris growled, making the horse flinch at her seemingly-mad ramblings.

Valeska just kind of awkwardly led the way to camp, deciding not to get in the middle of the argument between Roland and Aris. That was something they would have to figure out on their own. On the way, she snatched a couple more pieces of wood off the ground and added them to the slowly increasing bundle in her arms before camp what in sight.

Seeing a fire already lit with Killian nearby and smelling the scent of something cooking, her spirits were instantly lifted and she smiled brightly. "Killian! I'm back with the wood and I found someone you should meet!"

Killian was sat by a small fire, stirring a wooden spoon in a small pot. He looked up and offered them a small smile.

"Another recruit of the lost souls, I assume," he said. "I'm Killian. What's your name?"

Aris tied the horse's reins to a nearby tree. "Name's Aris, and I'm stuck with some detestable noble brat that's annoying me to death."

Roland spoke, unfazed, "Roland the Diplomatic. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Killian huffed.

"Seems the spirits that chose us didn't all do so for shared temperaments," Killian said. "You have my condolences."

"I should be offended at that remark," Bathildis chuffed indignantly. To which, Killian only sighed.

Kaladin was about to make a remark when Valeska sighed and cut him off before he could start yet another argument with Bathildis. For one, she was fairly tired of listening to them bicker and was really hoping Roland would be able to soothe the tension between them a bit. He was apparently known as The Diplomatic after all. "So, what do you have cooking right now, Killian?"

"It's just a soup," Killian said. "Composed of our rations. Potatoes and foraged mushrooms, mostly. Some peas."

"Better than dock scraps," Aris muttered.

"Indeed, it is," Roland remarked.

"It smells good." Valeska complimented, setting the bundle of wood nearby but not too close to the fire. "I bet it will taste just as so."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While the soup Killian had made had been rather filling and delicious to Valeska, like all food, it only lasted to sustain a person for so long and by the time the odd little group of companions had reached the small city the spirits, particularly Kaladin who seemed to be the ringleader of it all, had guided them to, Valeska's stomach was growling in hunger yet again. Cursed fast metabolism.

The sun had set quite some time ago and by now they had been traveling by only the light of the stars and moon for some hours while the candles in the windows of houses in the city glowed like little guiding beacons before them. It reminded Valeska of the night that had started it all with that odd beam of light...

"Alright everyone, the inn should be just down this road and to the left. There's a big wooden sign with I knight who's helmet is adorned with a silver moon. You can't miss it."

"Is it maybe where the smell of dinner is coming from?" Valeska asked her ghostly guide with a hint of sarcasm.

"Depends on if you have the coin to buy it or not." Kaladin quipped in response as they traveled down the cobbled streets.

Aris sneered, "Don't look at me, I'm broke."

"I can cover a meal for us," Killian offered.

"I might be able to help with it." Valeska offered as well. "I have a little bit of money with me."

"Yeah, you two figure that out..." Aris slipped a ration of stale bread out from the pouch on her horse's saddle. "I don't like owing people, so I'm staying out of it..." She looked around, then pointed ahead. "Hey, isn't that the sign the other stupid ghost just described?"

"Looks like it," Killian agreed.

The Good Knight's Rest was a two story wooden building that looked like it used to be a personal residence that was turned into a tavern. Like most of the buildings in Aiteach, it had wooden siding and a slightly old, and also wooden, shingled roof. Warm light from the candles and large fireplace inside spilled out into the streets leaving a warm and welcoming feeling in all those who passed or in this case, arrived. Laughter and joyous chatter could be heard from inside from the night-owls who where still up at the time drinking and being merry as Valeska dismounted from Cinnamon's back and carefully tied his reins to the hitching post outside.

Smiling softly but a little intimidated by the sheer amount of people that would likely be inside, she gently patted the stallion's neck and whispered to him, "don't worry, you won't be out here long, just until I find someplace for you to stay."

Tying the nameless mare to the neighboring spot, Aris arched one brow but didn't ask questions. Still, she grumbled, "It's just a horse, lady, sheesh..." She stretched a bit, then stormed toward the door. "Alright, this better produce some more answers, ghosts."

"Don't worry, it will." Kaladin chuckled in response.

Valeska, meanwhile chose to ignore Aris and after momentarily glancing over at Killian to make sure he was following, most likely her herding habits kicking in much to Kaladin's apparent amusement which she could feel, she chose to follow Aris inside.

As soon as Aris opened the door, she froze from the cacophony that slammed into her like a charging bull--inside and outside her own head.

Valeska was similarly taken aback but with more visible affects, stumbling backwards slightly from the overwhelmingness of it all, especially since she was mostly used to living and being alone. The only time there were ever this many people was on a busy market day but even then not everyone was crammed into a single building.

"How...many...of...you...ARE THERE?!" Aris snapped, stepping back out and gripping at her temples in frustration.

Kaladin tsked and Valeska could almost envision him shaking his head if she actually knew what he looked like "I thought we went over this already. There's twelve of us."

"Sounds like more..." Aris growled, "If I find out you're lying, I'll give you a second death somehow! Somehow! I will..." She huffed, "Killian, are you hearing this? I'm not crazy!"

Killian had a face prone to looking serious. Now, however, he looked rather pained. He squinted inside.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered.

Valeska nodded a tiny bit in agreement, already feeling a headache starting to come on from all of the noise both in her head and outside of it. "We just have to find the others, right?"

"Right." Kaladin confirmed. "Hopefully they all, or at least most of them, are here by now so I can go over the plan."

"And rest assured, my friends," Roland spoke confidently. "You will become more accustomed to the noise, even from the spirits. Just as you would adapt to any crowd."

"I sure hope so..." Valeska whispered under her breath as she walked inside. Everything was so loud, and bright, and strangely enough scented was one of the main things she noticed as well. There was so much going on it was hard to focus on anything at all. The pain in her head from the overload of input to her senses was quickly increasing and suddenly, food didn't sounds so good anymore as she nearly felt physically ill.

Glancing round slowly and blinking, she quietly asked Kaladin, hoping he could hear her over the rukus, "how are we going to find the others? There's- there's too many people here..."

"You'll know them when you see them." Kaladin responded cryptically.

"That's not helpful!" Valeska hissed weakly back.

"Typical," Aris grumbled, next to her.

Valeska glanced around the tavern, just kind of frozen in place as she tried to look for anyone who could possibly, by any odd chance, be the ones they were looking for. Across the room however, her gaze landed and stuck on two men who were sitting and talking. One with black hair in a long ponytail was talking very animatedly to the other who did not seem nearly as animated and slightly brooding but also had a pony tail which was short and blond.

After a moment of watching them, Valeska motioned to her comrades and loud enough for them to hear her over the volume of the tavern she said, "I think I found some of the people we are looking for. Maybe we can get close enough for one of the spirits to say something and see if they can hear them?"

Killian nodded in approval, as did Aris.

Valeska took a deep breath and carefully made her way over to the two, careful not to gain too much attention and risk them noticing her. The last thing she wanted to do was make a scene in such a crowded space and have all eyes upon her while she tried to explain something that would sound to anyone else as outright insane. However, as she started to get nearer, her migraine seemed almost to be fading a little more. Maybe these two really did have spirits with them two.

"HEY!" Kaladin suddenly shouted in her mind, causing her to visibly jump. "Anyone in there?"

The eyes of both men suddenly darted in her direction. The blond one crouched in his seat, looking ready to run. They had heard Kaladin.

"Kaladin?" a calm, feminine voice asked.

"Kaladin!" a much more cheerful and energetic voice exclaimed.

Valeska blinked at them, knowing her own nervousness was likely showing on her face and so decided to let Kaladin do the talking. However, something about the blond one's expression was familiar to her and before long she realized it was the same wild look that an animal had before it either fought or bolted.

In comparison though, she could feel Kaladin's glee wash over her despite it doing little for her own emotions. "Taryn! Lonán! I knew you guys were here! Just had to get my protégé here to look in the right place."

"Took you long enough. We went sightseeing and still beat you here!" Lonán joked.

Kaladin laughed joyfully at the joke. "Sightseeing? Without me? What did you see?"

"At least one whale, schools of fish, some beautiful mountains between here and Salachar, and an eventful lesson on backflipping!"

"Well, at least some of us are having fun," Roland remarked.

"Yeah, you guys didn't get stuck with Mr. Buzzkill!" Bathildis huffed.

Kaladin snorted. "I still think you're just sour because you didn't get the champion you wanted."

"Just you wait! I'm going to make him the best champion of all of them!" Bathildis spat.

"How much do you want to bet?" Kaladin challenged. "I know this one is going to have some great potential."

"Beg your pardon..." Roland chuckled, "All our champions were chosen for valid reasons--but don't count this one out of the race yet."

"Five minutes and you all are noisy! Each of your chosen champions have their wonderful potential and flaws." Varen's annoyed voice could faintly be heard.

Oh no. More voices were jumping into this, now. Valeska could feel her headache slightly worsening from the additional voice, just when it had begun easening too. With a sigh as all the chattering started to blend together from the spirits, she glanced towards the two men she had approached and started all of this, offering them a weary smile. "Well, it might be good to get to know each other a little bit... I'm Valeska, who are you both?"

The man with the black hair smiled cheerily and got to his feet.

"Yeah! Sure," he said. "I'm Ren! Good to meet you."

"Killian," the man greeted from behind her with a nod.

Aris looked content to stay silent until looked to, when she offered a resigned: "Aris."

The blond man was quiet, until it was just him left. He muttered his name practically inaudibly, uncomfortable with the amount of people focused on him.

Valeska smiled a bit more once they introduced themselves, a little more at ease with Ren's visible friendliness. "Nice to meet you both. I'm guessing the spirits explained a bit of what's going on to you? maybe?"

Ren looked to the quiet man with a shrug. "Sort of, I guess. Something, something, save the world. Really cool stuff, you know."

Killian glanced at Valeska with a harsher glare.

Valeska quelled slightly under Killian's look, not really sure what to think of it or even how to begin comprehending Ren's thought on saving the world being fun, much less explain it. However, she was quickly distracted as her eyes snapped to a newcomer.

A man stumbled down the stairs, his hair going in every direction, and his eyes still red but he did have a smile. "I'll guess you're also hearing the quarrelling up here?"

He tapped on the side of his head.

Blinking, Valeska slowly nodded in response. "Um- yes actually. How did you guess?"

"Hoririho!" Ren said, brightening. "I was just about to get you!"

Hori smiled even more. "Arguing makes an effective, early alarm. And please, just call me Hori!"

"You got it, Hori!" Ren said, now beaming.

Aris let out a loud huff as she crossed her arms, looking unimpressed as Hori approached. The tavern suddenly felt very crowded.

Hori smoothed out his clothing and hair, now looking more of a man from a higher status rather than a mad one. He shifted and bumped into someone he didn't know, and apologized.

Valeska was a lot more at ease now that she had a better sense of everyone. They all seemed rather friendly, especially Hori and Ren. However, she did keep her eye on The Lopen just in case. She wasn't so sure about him yet but surely the spirits had chosen him for some reason or another.

Deciding to finally speak up again she smiled at Hori and with a bit better of a greeting then the awkward one she had presented before she extended a hand to him being as he seemed maybe the kind of person who would take better to a more formal introduction. "It's nice to meet you, Hori. I'm Valeska and this is Killian and Aris. I think you probably already met the other two."

Hori gave her a brilliant smile as he took her hand and shook it firmly. "Pleasure to meet you all."

Valeska smiled brightly back. "So... who chose you?"

"Varen, and you?"

"Kaladin." She replied happily "Aris was chosen by Roland and Killian by Bathildis well."

"Ooooh! Kaladin was one of my favorites when reading their stories. Roland is as well but if given the option I wouldn't choose anyone else to be partnered with."

Valeska instantly perked up, eyes bright with curiosity. "There's stories about them?"

"Yeah! I've pretty much read all possible books on them that were available in my city's libraries."

"What is your favorite?" She asked before glancing over at Killian. "Did you know that there were stories?"

Killian looked unenthused. "Yes," he said simply. "I know the stories."

After a good second of thought Hori replied, "I don't think I can choose one, they're all pretty great."

"You'll have to tell me all about them, Hori!" Ren chimed in. "This is all new to me!"

"Me too!" Valeska said delightedly. That was one of her favorite things when she went into town or saw other sheperds in the wilds was the exchange of stories.

"I'd love to! I also brought some books if you wish to read them. Of course, on them." He tapped on his head with a grin.

"Look at this guy," Ren said to Valeska. "Hori is the most prepared out of all of us!"

Valeska beamed. "He is!" She was clearly very excited to hear stories on the ghostly beings that were haunting all of them but mainly she was just excited to hear stories in general.

"Of course! My parents drilled it in my head to have something and not need it, rather than to need it and not have it. I'd say books are always a necessity."

Valeska tilted her head at the unique thought compared to the minimal and survivalist mindset she was used to. "How do you carry them with you? Don't you need that space for other things?"

"Valeska," Killian interrupted. "Shouldn't we get some food and rest for the night?"

Valeska blinked a moment at him. "Oh yeah, probably. But we don't have anywhere else to go tomorrow, do we? Did Bathildis tell you anything?" She asked, slowly beginning to notice at the mention of the spirits that they seemed a little quieter despite still intensely bickering and she was able to focus a bit more now.

"Nothing more. We are in the right place," Killian said. "But some still haven't made it yet. We have to wait, but we've traveled long. We should get some rest."

She hummed slightly before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"I can order you guys some food!" Ren offered, waving over a waiter.

"I can help pay." Hori added.

Valeska blinked in surprise at the sudden hospitality, not really sure what to say. She certainly wasn't about to protest.

"Can we get potato soup and bread for six, please?" Ren called out. The waiter nodded and turned away.

Valeska blinked again, very much astonished that they had enough to pay for meals for six people, much less good meals as she quickly found out when the food arrived, both the bread and the soup fresh and steaming. While the others took their seats to sit down and eat their food, Valeska noticed the spirits had continued to quiet in her mind. Maybe she was finally learning how to block them out a little bit...

Not wanting her food to go cold before she could eat it, she happily took the nearest available seat between The Lopen and Killian before taking a bite of her her bread which was even better then it smelled.

The Lopen moved to stand behind his chair and rest his arms on the back of it. It put him further out of the circle of very new people.

Valeska glanced over at him when he moved from his seat. "Have you tried the bread yet?" she asked, trying to make pleasant conversation to try and help ease his tension.

He shook his head. "Don't like it."

"What do you mean you don't like it?" She asked in disbelief.

"I mean, I don't like bread." His expression said that he thought that was obvious.

"How can someone not like bread?" Her expression meanwhile conveyed the exact opposite.

He gave her an annoyed glare. "Do please, eat the bread that I'm not."

"Are you going to eat the soup then?" She asked with a raised brow.

"No."

"Why not? You should eat at least something. Like Killian said, we all traveled a long way and should eat something, even if it's not the bread."

"I already ate." He replied.

Valeska wasn't entirely sure if she believed him or not considering his excuse for not eating the bread was that he didn't like it. To maybe get some sort of verification, she glanced over at Ren. Ren looked at her blankly.

"Huh?" Ren said. "Oh. He had some jerky earlier."

"If the man refuses to eat, it is ill-advised, but his prerogative," Killian said.

"If we're going to make it through this, we all need to be in good condition, don't we? Just jerky isn't going to cut it and it's senseless to waste food." Valeska reasoned.

"It won't be wasting if one of you guys eat it."

Valeska had seen this more times then she could count with animals. When things suddenly stopped eating or only ate one thing, they often perished and there was no way she was going to possibly let that happen to him. She knew they needed him and there was no way the group would be able to actually win this if someone didn't make it or abandoned them.

She gave him a stern look. "We're not going to eat your food. Everyone needs to eat including you. You need it."

"Who said it was mine?" He snapped.

"Six were ordered, it can't be anyone else's." Valeska snipped in return.

"It could be someone's second course."

"I can eat it!" Ren offered.

Valeska shot Ren one of her rare and reserved glares before quickly realizing it was much undeserved and sighed in frustration. "Sorry Ren... I guess if he eats at least a little you could eat the rest so it doesn't go bad..."

Ren flashed an apologetic smile to the Lopen. "I can also save some for you for later! Bread will keep."

"That would work too..." Valeska sighed, sinking lower in her seat. The Lopen nodded, and walked out of the Tavern.

Valeska silently watched him leave. She felt a little bad but she didn't want to lose anyone. She didn't really understand why or when she had come to care for them all so much but she had a feeling it had something to do with Kaladin's influence. She felt a comradery with them all that she didn't feel with anyone else really. But seeing Lopen just walk out of the tavern and her argument with him had made her feel so frustrated. They had to stick together and she was just trying to help look out for him. She just didn't understand why he wouldn't at least try to eat and she had a terrible feeling that this would happen a lot.

The Lopen climbed up onto a building's roof across from the Tavern, so he could watch the door for anyone who had sat at that table and decided to leave. And well, it gave him some form of privacy, so to speak. No one below looked up at him. That didn't dismiss the guy in his head.

"You haven't answered me yet. Why'd we leave? We were having a great time in there!" Lonán complained.

"You were having a great time." He replied shortly. He continued to ignore anything else that came from Lonán while watching the people walking below. It wasn't a total lie. He didn't like bread. He tried it once, and it was rather hard and took the moisture out of his mouth. Ren was a decent guy, and The Lopen had sort of learned how to backflip. The only downside was that in doing so it had torn open his stab wound. But he didn't quite yet know if he was ready to make another friend so soon.

The chatter from inside the tavern could be heard briefly as Valeska slipped out the door and glanced around as if looking for something or someone. Somehow she had managed to slip out of the tavern without any others following her. The Lopen remained where he sat, although he doubted the shadows would do much to hide him with his lighter colored clothing.

She continued to glance around until she shuddered as a shiver ran down her spine and she looked directly up at him, blinking.

Well, drat. He looked away from her, and continued to look around at the people walking.

Valeska walked closer to the building he was perchad atop of and looked up at him from the ground. "Lopen?"

He clenched his jaw before relaxing it. "What?"

Her voice was much softer and gentler then before in the tavern. "I'm sorry, can I come up?"

He didn't answer her, he just looked up over the buildings. That was as good as an invitation that she was going to get.

Hesitating slightly, she examined the wall of the building before climbing up to sit a bit of a distance from him on the edge of the roof.

He didn't move, continuing to look out at the many roofs. Such buildings in the open sun were a bit odd to him, but they were everywhere throughout his travelling. He felt Lonán send him encouragement.

Valeska was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have been so pushy."

Kaladin muttered something that was a bit hard to hear from the distance between them but she just sighed in response. "I'm fixing the problems I made, not you. Please stay out of this."

Apologizing? He didn't expect that. He continued to watch the city.

Valeska meanwhile continued, however she seemed a little more hesitant then before. "I know it's not really an excuse but I want to make sure everyone makes it through... whatever this is... I probably know as much about it as you do- Kaladin likes to keep his secrets- but it seems dangerous."

"Wonderful." He muttered, although loud enough for her to hear, before speaking up. "Does he by any chance know if I can get the guy who's currently in my head out? Pass him to someone else or something?"

"Unless you can do magic, nope." Kaladin chukled, loud enough for Lopen to hear. "Even I'm not sure how it's done."

Valeska frowned to the spirit. "That's not helpful."

The Lopen sighed, putting a hand to his face. It really wasn't.

"Does your spirit-"

"Lonán." Kaladin corrected.

"Lonán," Valeska sighed, "Have anything, any knowledge that could help?"

"No," Both he and Lonán replied at the same time. The Lopen continued. "He started off with saying it's possible, but it's changed to maybe possible to he doesn't know."

Kaladin could be heard quietly laughing in the background. "Lonán, you sly fox."

Valeska frowned more but seemed more irriatated with Kaladin right now then Lopen. "I think Lonán might have lied to you. I don't think either of them will admit it though."

"I know he did." The Lopen growled.

Valeska frowned and glanced out over the rooftops with a heavy sigh. "What are you going to do?"

"Head back home." He picked up a random chunk of something, maybe the roof.

"You're just going to leave? What if he doesn't go away then?" Valeska asked.

"We're back for a purpose you know." Kaladin popped in. "And we mean to complete it." His words almost sounded like a challenge.

"Then he better find a way to use someone else." The Lopen flicked the piece of rubble out to fall into the street.

"You were the one Lonán chose. There's no getting out of it now whether you like it or not. The only way things are going to get any better is if we MAKE them." Kaladin said firmly.

"I'm not someone who changes the world." He snapped.

"You know who else thought that? Every single one of us spirits until we rallied together and did. None of you would even exist if it weren't for us. The land would be burnt and scorched beyond repair so no one could live here once the resources were exhausted and the descendent royalty would be off conquering somewhere else. You OWE us. It's time for all of you to rally together to and-"

He was cut off abruptly as Valeska had gotten up and moved away from Lopen, effectively putting Kaladin in a form of ghostly time out. "We don't owe you anything. If anything, you owe us for i don't know, possessing our bodies or whatever this is!" She scolded him. "I told you I could handle this on my own. I didn't need you jumping in the middle of things!"

"They lie, why not add nosy as well?" The Lopen scowled. "I have benefitted from nothing, so I don't particularly feel like I owe any of you dead people."

Valeska stood there with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face, staring at the ground as Kaladin obviously yammered on to her, not giving her a momet to speak. Yet she continued to listen to him.

"Look, you've lived a rough life, especially in Salachar. But with our experience and the skills of the people in this group, we are able to change that. This is something you will benefit from, I promise." Lonán tried.

Valeska continued to listen to her spirit until he had nothing else to say then finally turned back to Lopen "Please don't leave us."

"Why?" He demanded. "I can contribute nothing useful."

"Look, maybe the spirits are right about one thing. We need all the help we can get." Valeska began before looking him quickly up and down. "You managed to make it up here perfectly fine so I'm assuming you are pretty fit and from the-" She hesitated slightly before shaking her head, "You look like you know how to fight and persevere. We need someone like that."

"I made it here, because I don't want a dead guy speaking to me in my head, and unless you plan on doing something to make a lot of people mad at you, then I'm not of use to anyone."

Valeska sighed. "Maybe there is a way to get rid of the spirits. They're here for a reason, right? Maybe if we just do what they want, they won't have a reason to be hereanymore and they'll leave." She did tilt her head slightly at the last part. "I'm taking that as you do know how to fight?"

"I know how to stay alive." He grunted.

"That makes two of us." She responded before glancing at his wounds ad almost looking a little worried. "You should probably take care of those, don't you think?"

"I do." He flicked another piece of the roof out onto the street.

She nodded and removed a pouch from her belt. "If I help you with your wounds will you stay?"

He waved it away. "They're fine."

"They're actively bleeding." She replied, glancing to the one on his side.

He looked down, and saw it had indeed gone through his clothing.

"So will you let me help?"

"No, I can do it myself." He pulled out the few supplies he had in his pockets.

She nodded but walked over to him and gave him the pouch of supplies she had as well. "Okay, well take these. You need them more then I do right now."

He didn't respond to her, pulling his shirt up enough to reveal the stab wound as he started working.

She blinked at how skinny he was but didn't make any comment on it, just sitting nearby in case he did need any help after all.

He worked quickly, and finished without needing to use any of her supplies. The manner that he did it seemed as normal as bringing food to one's own mouth.

She was rather surprised how easily and quickly he did so. In fact, she was pretty impressed.

He tossed her supplies back to her.

She quickly caught them and nodded. "Feels better I hope?"

He shrugged.

"Understandable." She shrugged slightly as well, just sort of sitting on the edge of the rooftop.

He went back to people watching, not quite eager to continue their conversation and also not knowing what else to talk about. But when did things ever go his way?

She didn't really know what else to talkabout either apparently, just kind of sitting there silently and looking out across the city. That worked for him.

Down below in the streets, walked an odd looking man. He didn't look like the usual farmers and artisans of Aiteach. Instead, he was dressed in armor with a black surcoat over it. The torch in his hand illuminated around him enough to be able to tell that the surcoat had a stripe of royal purple on it and an emblem that consisted of a crown with thistles at the base. He stopped for a minute at an intersection of roads and looked up ad down them a second before continuing closer towards the tavern.

"Hey. Is that normal?" The Lopen motioned towards that man. He'd never seen anything like it in Salachar.

Valeska blinked and frowned, looking at the man for a long moment before her eyes widened. "It's a soldier... we need to avoid being seen-"

However, it was too late for that as the man had heard them and looked up to the rooftops. "Hey! You kids get down from there!'

"How bad is that?" He asked quietly as he got into a crouching stance, enough for her to hear but not the soldier.

"In Geata Tuath? Pretty bad." She whispered back. "I'm assuming it's the same here-"

The guard meanwhile was looking for a way up onto the rooftop.

"Alright." He looked at the distances between theirs and the other rooftops. There was one adjacent that was close enough. He started running, and jumped to that roof.

Blinking, Valeska looked around for any other options on where to go, but seeing none, she ran to follow him and jumped, just barely making it onto the other roof.

He didn't stop there, making split decisions on which roof to jump to.

She followed the best she could but hesitated on one of the jumps. "There is no way I'm going to make that!"

He stopped and looked back at her, then looked arounf for the soldier. "You can make it! Just go back a little to get a running start!"

The soldier had made it up onto the roofs and was in quick pursuit after them.

"I barely made the other ones! This one is a lot farther!"

"Don't hesitate, and you can make it. Come on, you said the soldier's bad, right? You will for sure be in trouble if you don't jump!"

She glanced back at the soldier and looked mildly panicked for a moment at the indecision before backing up then running twoards the edge of the roof.

The Lopen watched, preparing in case she didn't make the jump all the way.

She jumped and for a second, it looked like she would make it after all until she got closer, just inches off from landing.

He reached out for her, one hand able to grab part of her shirt and the other her arm as he tried to pull her mostly onto the roof.

Not being too heavy, it was pretty easy to pull her back up onto the roof where she scrambled to get her footing again.

He didn't give her too much recovery time, this time keeping a hold of her wrist as he started to run again. They needed to keep moving, and he'd do what was necessary to do so.

She ran after him, easily keeping pace once she recovered so he didn't have to drag her too much. This time however, she didn't hesitate before any of the jumps. She almost seemed to be working an tandem with him now oddly enough.

He let go once she was keeping up, and started looking for a way to get back down into the streets.

She did as well before spotting something. "Over there! There's a shed we can jump down onto!"

He reacted, and veered in that direction. He leaped, and when both of their feet hit the roof, it fell inwards.

Valeska gasped and into the darkness they went until they fell ontop of a convenienly placed pile of straw which was likely used to put fresh in animal pens and what not.

The Lopen was on his feet quickly, and pulled her up as well. He broke through the door and kept running. He remembered the different alleyways from running up above and knew mostly how to get back to the larger street which still had people.

She stumbled slightly but managed to recover once more and ran with him down the streets and alleyways. She didn't seem all too sure where they were going but it certainly wasn't back to the tavern yet.

Once they made it to a busier street, The Lopen slowed down to go more with the flow of traffic.

Valeska did as well, glancing around to see how close the soldier was or if he had even been able to follow them.

He kept looking forward, if not to glance around at some shops to seem normal. Then again, he slipped into a different alley.

She almost didn't notice him slip down the alleyway for a moment, but quickly followed once she did.

"We've lost him, I'm fairly sure." He said after a moment.

She nodded. "I didn't see him anywhere when I looked."

"Last I saw is when we ran underneath him as he headed to that shed."

"Got it. So we should be good now, right?" she asked, attemptint to peek around the corner of the alleyway.

"No. He'll be looking for us as long as he's here." He frowned. "Do people usually not get away from those... what did you call him?"

"Soldiers?" She asked before shaking her head. "No, they don't. They'll arrest you for anything too and either make you pay a ridiculous amount or make you work off your pay. At least that's what I heard. That's why I always stuck to the wilds and only went into the cities to sell things."

"That almost makes Salachar seem better."

"You're from Salachar?" She blinked at him then seemed to come upon some realization or another "That actually kind of makes sense."

"Yeah."

"Is it really better there?"

"What?"

"In Salachar. Isn't it full of crime there?"

"Yeah. At least there's no soldiers that I've ever run into there."

"Huh..." Valeska responded quietly, thinking.

He went quiet as well.

She remained silent until the soldier's voice could be heard again, asking people in the street if they had seen The Lopen or Valeska. However, luckily enough the people only gave mumbled half hearted responses and didn't really seem to know where they went much less who the soldier was even looking for.

He listened to the soldier questioning people. He didn't know how many others were supposed to show up, but he already itched to get out of the city.

Valeska seemed to be feeling the same way, glancing around nervously.

"Okay, see? You can work with her just fine. You'll probably get along with the others as well!" Lonán spoke up.

Kaladin chuckled and chimed in as well. "I know right? They did great together! Good pick, Lonán!"

The Lopen scowled. He liked the silence from before. What he didn't like was being referred to as if he was a weapon that they had picked off of a wall of them.

Valeska frowned, apparently not liking it too much either but decided not to say anything and risk them getting caught since the soldier was still nearby. Although it didn't seem like any of the people in the street would rat them out even if they did know where they were.

The Lopen was not inclined to think the same. He was used to snitches, which did it for some reward.

"You know," Kaladin began again, "I think they'll get along just fine. Maybe they'll even become friends like we were."

"I think so too. Plus they've got us to guide them on this journey."

"Exactly!"

"Either way, they've got to tolerate each other to some extent, as we do need to be relatively close to be able to communicate. It'd just be better if they're friends, rather than sitting there brooding." Lonán said, rather pointedly at the end.

Kaldin chuckled "yeah, that sounds like a bit if a problem there with the brooding in the whole get along scheme."

The Lopen continued scowling, and made a motion as if he was stabbing himself from under his chin.

Valeska sighed and shook her head. The Lopen looked back out at the street to see if the man had left yet.

"It's a huge problem. We'll get it solved though!"

"Yep! We sure will." Kaladin said happily.

"We're good, I think." He looked back at Valeska.

Valeska nodded quickly. "Where to now then? Think its safe to go back to the tavern?"

"Yeah, probably."

she nodded slightly and began leading the way back.