War of Dawn - Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Happiness and Anxiety

Whew… it’s done. Hilda’s thoughts signaled a rush of relief to spread throughout her sprained muscles, feeling as though a ten ton weight’s been lifted off her shoulders. After twelve hours of nearly nonstop work, everything was in place for the New Year’s dinner.

Hundreds of different dishes, drinks, desserts and appetizers were prepared, almost a thousand plates and silverware were cleaned and placed atop the frilly red cloths that cover the dining hall’s long tables and the workers left every centimeter of the flooring and furniture polished to the nth degree.

Walking though the dining hall, Hilda sees her own reflection looking back at her from pretty much everywhere, congratulating her on a job well done. The tables are covered from end to end with what looks – and felt, during work – like every conceivable meal from every country, blending in a wave of powerful colors and scents. The light shining off the chandeliers reflect off the many golden goblets, glasses and steins, covering all in a blanket of glittering sparkles. It’s the most beautiful dining table Hilda’s ever seen.

And they finished it right on time, the last dish being ready about ten minutes before the other Scions are meant to come in. The moment said dish is placed in its proper spot, Hilda can hear Owen’s loud sigh of relief echoing from the far side of the kitchen. Running his hands across his brow and blonde hair, sweaty as though he just did a massive sparring session, he looks to her with a satisfied smile as she gives him a thumbs’ up.

That’s the most tired Hilda’s seen him since the battle in Bathurst, though she’s not exactly feeling too spritely after all that either. No one is, really. That does not stop all Scions on kitchen duty from rushing out the split-second Greta tells them to get themselves cleaned up. Dozens of Haste glyphs being unleashed in unison fills the kitchen in crackling, booming sounds; no one wants to be late and miss their favorite piece of food, especially after the trouble it was to get it all set up. Hilda’s ears buzz all the way to her room.

She shares in the others’ sentiment, though, and for once is thankful of her limited wardrobe – no need to waste time choosing. Her old, favorite white gi and some black woolen pants will serve nicely. She feels it fits the situation, even, considering this gi is the first one she wore after joining the Corps.

Following a blazing-quick wash in the underground lake – just to clean off the sweat – she gets herself dressed, dries her hair with the help of a wind attuned Novitiate and bolts off back to the dining hall with a burst of violet electricity.

That smörgåstårta better still be there or someone’s gonna pay… she quietly warns the universe.

Hilda arrives just as everyone else is settling in, an enormous mob of Scions invading the room like a roaring parade. The sound of their steps fills every nook and cranny of the dining hall, as chairs are dragged out with loud screeches signaling a symphony of chewing and clashing knives and forks against the plates. Though the Corps is maintaining its operations across the world, this is still the most people Hilda’s ever seen gathered in one place.

So many Scions of different ranks, ages, nationalities, genders and classes join in the massive celebration, talking, laughing and cheering over the feast prepared for them like one huge family. Some have even seen fit to start playing instruments, the sound of guitars, flutes, violins, drums and more all but being lost amid the rousing dinner.

While regular dinners always had a tinge of normalcy, of the weighty responsibility placed on them, all that seems nonexistent today. Maybe it’s the hope for what’s to come next year or simply the nostalgia that comes from eating their favorite dishes but every single Scion here, old and young, has this spark in their eyes.

Hilda would readily partake in the celebration but, right now, the order of business is finding her dish. Pushing across the sifting crowd, she looks for the spot where she remembers it being placed… and finds Ryouma and Vanessa already waiting by.

“Here she is,” Vanessa greets her with a warm smile.

Ryouma beckons her over, pushing the plate of smörgåstårta towards an empty chair. “We’ve kept it safe for you.”

“Oh, thank you both so much.” Hilda jumps right into her seat, rubbing her hand with gleeful anticipation before stopping for a second, curious about one thing. “Wait… How did you two know about this?”

“Owen passed by my office a few minutes ago and asked me to, as a favor,” Vanessa answers. “Said that ‘it’d be a bloodbath if anything happened to it’.”

“He wasn’t wrong there.” Hilda waves her knife and fork around, an impish grin in her lips. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Talking with Greta and the regular kitchen workers – he’ll be out shortly.” Ryouma nods at the door, already sipping beer from a long stein.

“Well, I’ll have to thank him when he gets here. First things first, though…”

With that, Hilda carves out a large piece of her sandwich cake and gives it a try. It takes all of one bite for her to see that Owen did the recipe justice and then some. The salmon, the herbs, the bread – everything is perfect. Hilda’s glee grows twofold as she devours the dish like a weeks-starved person, barely stopping to chew before grabbing another piece. She vividly remembers sharing this taste with her dear family; as promised, any trace of the bad memories skulking about her head these past few hours have been completely evaporated.

“It seems everything is fine over here?” Owen steps over, looking at Hilda’s stuffed face with an amused grin.

“Hmmpf… It’s perfeff,” she answers, her voice barely making it past the mouthful of bread and salmon. The hearty pat on the back she gives him gets the point across, though.

“How’s Greta?” Vanessa asks, already busy eating her own dish. “She in a good mood?”

Owen takes a seat beside Hilda, searching the bounty atop the table for his mother’s cawl recipe. Hilda points it out, having placed it before, grunting and waving her finger at it inbetween bites. “Thank you. And, yes, Greta’s in a fine mood, my lady. She said it was the smoothest New Year’s dinner in a long while.”

“That means you’ve nothing to worry about, honey.” Vanessa turns to Ryouma with a playful look on her face.

“Ohoho, great,” he says like a child that’s just been given free rein. He inches beneath the table and pulls out two bottles. “Lexa gave me this bottle of scotch for Christmas. Care for a sip, Owen? And, of course, I’ve some strawberry juice for you, Hilda.”

She answers with an “OK” hand sign while Owen shrugs in resignation and gives him a grateful nod. “Though I seldom drink, I definitely need one after today’s work.”

Hilda’s glad to see him drop his knightly sternness, as it doesn’t really feel like New Year’s for her unless the people around her are at least a bit drunk. That’s just standard for any northerner… Except for her, of course, but she still enjoys the atmosphere. On the other hand, that never really lasts long for the Scions.

Ryouma explained it to her a few months back, when she pondered how he and Ragnar drank as freely as they did and still worked without a hitch. The Prana in the human body influences every single process in it, not just how fast one heals – and a Scion has said Prana enhanced by their ever-present connection to the flow. However drunk someone may get, they’re back to normal in a few minutes as the imbibed alcohol is purified. Boring for her but at least that means no one’s at risk of being too hungover to act in an emergency.

As she eats the last piece of her dish, Hilda looks at everyone with happiness etched across her glowing face. “Ah, that was so tasty. Thanks for making that!”

“It was no problem at all if you enjoyed it so,” Owen says, picking up a glass of scotch from Ryouma. “Shall we all make a toast?”

“Hey, hold on.” Hilda raises her hand at him, gesturing to wait. “Shouldn’t we wait for Ragnar and Lady Alexandra? What about the boss lady?”

“The Vanhanens are over in London. The queen’s got to show up for the local New Year’s event and Ragnar tags along to keep her sane,” Vanessa says, bearing a pitying smile for her absent friends.

“Hm, and it’s quite the glorious sight,” Owen adds, a glint of nationalistic pride setting upon his eager eyes. “A day of celebration, culminating in a major parade across main street, bringing in hundreds of thousands of peasants and nobles. Soldiers, knights, ministers, lords and, of course, the royal family…”

“And after that’s wrapped up, said lords go and bug Lexa and King Gareth for things.” Ryouma cuts Owen’s storytelling short with a loud chuckle. “She’s told us that their bellyaching is a bigger headache than a month’s worth of paperwork!”

“Regardless.” Owen crosses his arms and huffs in annoyance, not that it does anything to Ryouma and Vanessa’s joking grins. “The point is they are busy.”

Hilda gives him a friendly tap on the shoulder, the amused tone in her voice failing to hide her enjoyment of his grumbling. “Alright, alright – that’s fair. And Eliza?”

“Working, as always.” Vanessa shrugs, looking at Hilda as though she should’ve have known better than to expect otherwise.

“She did see fit to send a recipe for tonight, though,” Ryouma adds.

A recipe from the commandant… Hilda does find herself wondering what it could be. She saw a whole bunch of different things being made, many of which would seem appropriately Eliza-esque. That is, tough to chew, sour, hard to swallow, likely to leave you feeling sick, etc. The woman doesn’t even need to eat anymore, so Hilda figures it must be something she enjoys eating for the hell of it. But what kind of taste would a no-nonsense, over a hundred-year-old warrior have?

“Something boring, I bet…” she quips, eliciting a barely contained laugh from the generals. “What about you two? Asked for anything special?”

“Yes, we did,” Ryouma says. He inches over the table to pick up a large plate up ahead: a huge, plump carp, smoked to a deep golden hue and giving out quite the powerful spicy aroma. It makes Hilda’s nose reflexively curl up – and she likes fish. “Caught this beauty myself, just yesterday, and it was seasoned according to her recipe.”

“My Mamma’s recipe, actually; she told me it was stolen from one of her shipmates.” Vanessa leans back on her chair, taking in a long whiff of the fish’s smell. “Hmm! I love it!”

Whatever works for you, Hilda thinks, turning away from the dish and trying to keep a hacking cough from finding its way out.

Owen does not seem bothered by it, though. Most likely used to the scent of spicy foods and ingredients by now, she figures. Clasping his hands atop the table, he is more focused on Vanessa herself, curious. “I didn’t know your mother was a seawoman, my lady.”

“Mamma was a lot of things.” The general breaks a yellow smile. “Prostitute, smuggler, pirate… She worked with the Zangaris in Genoa for years.”

“Oh…” Owen grunts, his eyebrows curving the way a child’s would after hearing there’ll be a surprise test today. “The British army often needed to eliminate Zangari pirates sacking our ships. Was your mother…?”

Vanessa waves her hand, gesturing for him to relax. “Ah, no, she went straight after I was born – grazie a Dio. She joined a trading company as a guard and would spend half the year traveling to provide for my grandmother and me.”

Not seeing a parent for half a year strikes Hilda as a tough time but Vanessa doesn’t seem bothered by it. There is clear pride written across her eyes and joy in the perky lines in her face, perhaps over the fact that her mother loved her so much that she quit her life of crime. The ease with which Vanessa tells this story, like a common memory, is something Hilda finds herself envying somewhat. She’d have accepted not seeing her father for half a year if it meant him living longer than he did.

"Whenever she came back home, she'd always have a whole bunch of stories of all the places she’d gone to: Thailand, India, China… even Satsuma, once.” Vanessa muses, her eyes looking like that of an admiring child.

Hilda raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Ah? Your mom visited his town?"

"Not visit per se. Her ship got stuck there after a storm and, for three weeks, all she did was get drunk and sleep around... Great story for a girl to hear about her Mamma, huh?" Vanessa says with an embarrassed shrug.

There isn't much Hilda or Owen can say to that, so they all limit themselves to pursing their lips and nodding meekly. Ryouma, however, looks back at her with warmth etched across his face.

“But I am very glad it all happened. I may not have met you otherwise,” he declares with a loving smile, stretching over to gently pull Vanessa’s red lips into his. Vanessa lets out a faint chuckle, her arms wrapping around his neck as she answers Ryouma's passionate kiss in kind.

As it ends and the two generals pull apart, neither says anything. They merely bask in each other's loving eyes, locked away in a world of their own. Vanessa stands flushed, grinning like a teenager, while Ryouma looks back as though there is absolutely nothing else in the world.

"Aw, you're so cute together," Hilda speaks up, slumped back in hair chair with a cheeky smirk.

"Quite. But may I suggest you find a room before you set the dining hall ablaze?" Owen adds, playfully drawing flaming circles in the air with his index finger.

Ryouma and Vanessa clear their throats in unison, setting back on their own seats. Vanessa gives him a sideway glance like she's dealing with a naughty kid and Ryouma simply winks back at her. With a laughing huff, he raises his hands in joking apology. "Well, excuse my lack of control, children."

“If you wanna apologize, tell what you meant with that ‘may not have met Vanessa’ bit. I’m curious now,” Hilda nudges him.

Ryouma nods in deference and lets his back rest upon the chair's soft padding, his hands stroking his goatee. "Ah, well, do you remember how my family converted to the Altr faith?”

“You said some European sailor taught you… Wait, that wasn’t her mom, was it?” Hilda asks, looking back at Vanessa with surprised eyes.

Vanessa herself laughs almost immediately at her question. “Oho, my Mamma wouldn’t be caught dead worshipping anything.”

“As she said, no; it was another sailor aboard her broken down ship. With little money to his name, this skinny fellow was walking around Satsuma trying to trade this carving of – amusingly – Taserus," Ryouma continues.

"Your parents took his trade, then?" Hilda inches closer, taken with the tale.

Ryouma scoffs a bit. "Oh, no, the thing was hardly worth a whole fish. Still, they pitied the man. A lot of care had clearly gone into the piece and, yet, he was willing to part with it for food. So, they invited him to share a meal with us; when they asked, he told us about the Altr and what they’d done for mankind."

"And, with that, your family converted?" Owen wonders.

"It didn't happen overnight, of course." Ryouma laughs. "But, eventually, yes. And I'd likely not be who I am today had your mother's ship not been stuck in Satsuma. Whether it was blind luck or divine providence that made it happen... I am so grateful to that convoluted chain of events for leading me to you, love."

"Not as grateful as I am." Vanessa happily hops onto Ryouma's lap, grabs her own glass of scotch and raises it high into the air. "And I think that's our toast. Here's to blind luck and/or divine providence, helping us get to where we need to be."

“Hear, hear!”

The four Scions echo a boisterous cheer, taking generous sips of their drinks. While Owen starts coughing upon the first taste of scotch – much to Hilda’s amusement – Vanessa grabs hold on Ryouma’s head and, this time, pulls him into her lips. Observing to two generals, so happy together, Hilda does ponder the circumstances that led them both to where they are. How much have they gone through over their near fifty years of life to get to this point?

As the evening moves along, Ryouma and Vanessa never once lose the joy and love that fills their faces. Time and again, other Scions walk over to wish them both a happy new year – all friends, old apprentices or simply admirers of these champions of the Corps. Hilda watches as Wally stops by with his guitar and sings a joking serenade for Vanessa, Greta frowns at Ryouma’s drinking but, in the spirit of celebration, decides to join in, while Matu tells stories of the generals’ amateurish days.

Hilda laughs along, propelled by the light atmosphere that reigns over the dining hall, but, in the corner of her mind, she can’t help but wonder: is it possible for her to live a life as fulfilled as theirs? More importantly, does she even deserve that? She hadn’t thought about anything of the sort for quite a while – years now – and, honestly, she isn’t sure. A big part of her still screams a resounding “no”, as loud as it did when she first joined the Corps.

At the very least, Hilda sees others much more worthy than her of having luck and providence on their side. She looks at Owen from the corner of her eye – now turning pink as Greta constantly refills his glass of scotch – and thinks back of how much they’ve been through. Despite their rough start, he’s saved her life twice so far and pushed her along to grow as a warrior and Scion far more times than she can count.

And there’s also Paula. Hilda’s first, and best, friend in the Corps, her unwavering care has time and again served as a pillar during these first months as a Scion. With each laughter, prod to take action and word of support, she’s helped her make it this far. Only Ryouma’s done more for her… which is why it pains Hilda to look around the dining hall and see that she is still missing. She’d hoped to at least see Paula come in for a moment but neither her nor Josette, Amit or Julius turn up. Hilda would even put up with her unsettling companions if it meant having another chance to talk to her.

As the moon outside flitters about the ever-dark sky, indicating that it’s past nine in the evening, Ryouma pokes Hilda and brings her wandering mind back to the party around them. He gestures for her to follow and, after whispering something to Vanessa, heads out the dining hall.

Hilda follows behind him, not knowing what’s going on, and setting across Valarheim’s main corridor. Through a wide pair of wooden doors, adjacent to the hall’s entry, Ryouma brings Hilda into the training grounds. She can see dozens of other Scions spread throughout the area – not training, as she’d expect, but sitting about the many almond-colored tiles and talking.

“What’re we out here for, Shishou?” she asks.

Ryouma crosses his legs and sits down, beckoning Hilda to do the same. “You’ll see. Sit, if you would.”

She does so, giving him a confused look. Ryouma smiles in return, not saying another word. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath of the cold air, as he did while they went fishing in Satsuma. Hilda still doesn’t know what he’s up to but, for lack of a better option, decides to play along.

The air around the open training grounds is as still as ever, caressing her lungs with its frigid touch as she takes it in. The usually noisy area is almost silent, save for the distant banter of other warriors. The only source of movement comes from above, the glowing Paling filling the blackened sky with the hues of its transparent golden mantle. Thinking back on it, the last time Hilda stood still and gazed at the barrier’s magnificence was when she first arrived in Valarheim.

“It’s been quite busy for you over these past seven months, hm?” Ryouma opens his eyes and looks back at her. “How are you feeling now?”

Hilda takes in another deep breath, thinking back on everything: leaving Litnir, her training, her struggles and her successes. It hardly feels like it’s only been a few months – more like years, decades.

It was, and still is, a very difficult job for her to do – in more ways than one – but she can see the answer to his question loud and clear: “I’m… glad, really. I never thought I could actually work as a Scion but here I am.”

“Indeed, you are. And I am personally very proud of the fine warrior you’re growing into,” Ryouma says.

She answers him with a faint laugh, an embarrassed grin forming on her lips. “Though I’m still sure there were better choices than me to be your apprentice, no?”

“Perish that thought, girl.” Ryouma reaches over and flicks his finger at the brand in her forehead. “We’ve all seen the effort you made to better yourself, the spirit with which you help and protect others. I’ve personally bore witness to it when you saved Leona in Almdalir, as did Vanessa when you and Owen freed the Risen from the Valnr. You are truly deserving of being here and I know with absolute certainty that you’ll be a magnificent Scion.”

His warm countenance sends ripples of joy throughout Hilda, burning through the niggling doubts creeping in her mind like a storm of fire. Ryouma gives her a confident wink and she answers him with an earnest nod.

“Oh, it’s starting.” Ryouma faces skyward, pointing out to the area right underneath the edge of the Paling.

A small, silver-colored streak of energy rips through the night, erupting in a shower of sparkles with a loud boom. In come two more, blue and orange, swooping and swerving like a pair of birds, drawing sharp contrails through the air. More and more streaks of energy rise from different spots of Valarheim, assuming so many different shapes as they paint the dark sky in rainbow colors.

Glittering flowers bloom from the ether while animals – horses, bears, birds, fishes, among others – run and play amid the clouds; stars twinkle and explode in a shower of rays and words spell out declarations of celebration, love and friendship in different languages.

Hilda stares at it all agape, the glowing spectacle reflecting off her dumbstruck eyes and the training grounds’ almond tiles.

“Many countries in the east celebrate by shooting fireworks – we’ve just decided to add our own twist to it,” Ryouma says, watching it all with satisfaction etched in his face. “Care to join in? Just gather up some element in your hands, will it to shape and fire.”

“You bet!” Hilda jumps right back up, joining her hands before even hitting the ground. A ball of violet electricity materializes within, crackling as she compresses it and starts thinking of a big, wholesome explosion.

Ryouma does the same, conjuring a clutter of bright red flame at his left palm. “On three, yes? One, two… three!”

“Gott nytt år!”

Hilda throws her spell towards the night sky, Ryouma’s flying right beside. Together, they rise high atop the various shapes on display and explode in a bright flash. Pink-lavender streams shoot out in all directions, raining down upon the other creations like an enormous weeping willow tree. Hilda looks on, entranced by the show of lights, laughing like an ecstatic child.

“Thanks for everything, Shishou.” she looks into his eyes and takes a bow. “I’d never be here right now without your help and patience.”

Ryouma crosses his arms and stands with pride. “Whereas I thank you for being such a fine apprentice – that’s the best thing any teacher could ask for.”

“Hah! I oughta be, considering I’m learning from Ryouma the… um…” Hilda laughs before stopping, her lips puckering with doubt. “Er, what’s your own nom-de-guerre thing? Vanessa’s the Genoese Gale, Alexandra’s the Dame of Light, Ragnar’s the Dynast of Stone and you’re…?

Ryouma puffs up at her question, bearing a huge grin. “‘The Azure Blaze’. Nice, isn’t it?”

“Very impressive, sir.” She gives him a joking clap before raising a lone eyebrow. “You don’t look too blue to me, though.”

“No but the sky is – that changed this one time where I set it on fire with a swing of my blade, mind,” Ryouma explains, pointing to the heavens with the gusto of a hunter displaying a conquered foe, before noticing the spells fading above. “… But that’s a story for another time; our ‘fireworks’ are ending, which means curfew’s almost started. Why don’t you make a quick stop by the storage before heading to your room? The Alterium in your sword should be fixed by now.”

“Hai, Shishou.” Hilda salutes him. “Mata ashita!”

Ryouma waves her farewell and Hilda sets off to the opposite side of the training grounds. Everyone else is leaving as well, trace sparkles of all elemental forces being left through the floor from their myriad spells. While they’re heading out the northern exit, towards the living quarters, Hilda takes to the east. Through the large set of wooden doors, the storage area is straight across the corridor.

The place is dead empty due to the time but she doesn’t need help to find her weapon – Ryouma’s left it exactly where he first picked it up for her. He did see fit to decorate her plain black scabbard with a small bronze fish engraving, just like the one she hooked in Satsuma.

Just the one, eh? Fair enough, Hilda quips.

That aside, the blade looks positively brand new, all the scratches it had taken over the months gone. Seeing her reflection on the untarnished blade once again gets a chuckle out of Hilda, remembering what happened the last time she saw it like this – taunting her with its massive weight. She pulls the sword out the scabbard and balances it atop her index finger.

Not so funny now, I see. Hah! She looks at the blade in amusement, grinning at the role reversal.

Her enjoyment is cut short when she hears steps coming from the other side of the room. It’s best to not play around and risk annoying a High Scion, so she sheathes her weapon and prepares to leave. That is, until she looks through the weapons’ racks and spots something: a bun of jet black hair, held in place by two writing quills. There’s only one person here who sets her hair like that – and she’s not getting away this time.

Hilda crouches down on the wooden floor and starts sneaking around the racks, keeping a close eye to Paula's feet. The girl is headed to the far back of the storage, stepping with purpose past all the weapons around her. Hilda figures she might be looking for a new halberd but, no – angling her head, she can see Paula's regular one hanging just fine from her shoulder. In fact, she is wearing full combat gear. Hilda's questions only increase when she sees the girl press her ear against an empty part of the distant wall.

What’s she doing? There’s only tundra on the other side… she ponders, walking closer on the tip of her toes.

Paula doesn’t leave the area, only sitting right next to the wall and waiting. For ten whole minutes she stays there, immobile, her vacant, serious eyes staring off into the empty storage. A look Hilda recognizes.

It is then that Paula’s eyes snap back to the wall – something’s happened apparently. Charging the dark elemental in her right hand, she shoves the cluster of energy into the Alterium bricks. When she does, the wall wavers and turns a dark shade of blue, transparent like deep ocean water. Paula looks into it as though she’s steeling herself to take a plunge and that’s just about all that Hilda can stand to watch.

“What you up to?” she asks, stepping out from behind the racks.

Paula turns around with a startled yelp, looking like she’s just seen a ghost. “Ah…! Hilda! What are you doing here?”

“I asked first.” Hilda crosses her arms, already picturing a Restriction glyph in her head – just to be safe. “And what’s going on with that wall?”

“I-i-it’s nothing!” Paula stammers and waves her hand over the transparent wall, shifting it solid once more. “You- You need to go to your room – curfew’s already on!”

Hilda sighs and takes a step closer to the flustered girl. “You’re a terrible liar, Paula. Things have obviously been seriously wrong since your fight with Lady Eliza. Share, why don’t you?”

“And I told you before that I can take care of that myself. Why are you being so nosy about this, even?” Paula huffs, shooing her away with increased annoyance. Her gaze shifts and back forth between her and the empty wall, like a traveler about to miss her carriage.

“Because you’re my friend; because that’s what you’d do were you in my shoes.” Hilda steps even closer, grabbing Paula’s waving hand and pointing right at her face. “You said that I didn’t have a clue how you felt but that’s not true. I can already tell what’s going on inside your head just by looking at you.”

“What in blazes is that supposed to mean, huh? You’ve only known me for a few months!” Paula bristles, yelling as low as she can manage but trying to push Hilda away.

Hilda dodges her shove and grabs both her arms, holding her still. She’s not going to let Paula get away before hearing what she has to say. “Yeah but I know what you’re feeling: to look up to someone, to really wanna make good on the trust they put in you. But it doesn’t take and that eats away at you, doesn’t it? Like, if you’re not good enough, then you’re just wasting everyone’s time?”

Paula doesn’t answer, though her glaring eyes show a tinge of surprise as her eyebrows inch upwards. Hilda decides to press on. “But you know what helped me deal with that? You, Owen, Master Ryouma, Vanessa… Whenever there was a problem I couldn’t deal with, I had all of you backing me up. Sometimes you helped me train, gave advice or just listened to me rant. So why won’t you let me help you back? You don’t trust me?”

“No, it’s just… I…” Paula mumbles, the words getting stuck on her throat as worry and regret twist the lines in her tawny-skinned cheeks.

“Now, I can see that you’re up to something – your crazy training since the fight has been for that, yeah?” Hilda says, letting her friend go but keeping her gaze fixated on her black eyes. “Whatever it is, I want in. My best friend’s problems are my problems.”

“What I’m about to do could get me in serious trouble – I can’t simply ask anyone else, much less you, to take this risk,” Paula argues with a pained voice, shaking her head hard.

Hilda gestures for her to stop, looking at Paula as though she just made a nonsensical joke. “You don’t need to ask me anything, kid. And if it’s something that serious, then I am abso-fricking-lutely coming with you… Oh, how about this? If you don’t let me, I’m telling Master Ryouma and he’ll put a stop to your plan!”

“What?! You wouldn’t!” Paula gasps, lunging forward in indignation.

“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t,” Hilda sasses her. “Only one way to be sure, hm?”

Paula lets out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping in dejection. She closes her eyes, angling her head up to the ceiling and massaging the bridge of her nose. Hilda stands by, arms placed squarely at her waist but inwardly hoping that her bluff worked. When Paula looks back at her, with a defeated, but grateful, expression, she knows it did.

“You are terrible…” the girl quips, “Fine. I’ll gladly accept your help if you promise to do exactly as I say. I mean it.”

Hilda smiles for ear to ear, giving her a hearty nod. “I promise – you’re the boss. So, what’re we doing?”

Paula stops short for a moment, fidgeting and biting her lips like she’s a priest about to commit sacrilege. With a sharp huff through her nose, she speaks out. “We… We are going to hunt down a Wraith.”

“Whoa… You sure about that? I mean, I’ve got your back but…” Hilda asks, less about her own worries and more about how Paula seems about to be torn at the seams because of this.

“I’m… I’m sure, yes,” Paula says, though her doubtful tone betrays her words. Her breath grows faint as her brow twists with puzzlement, eyes searching for an answer that’s wholly out of reach. “Did you know that Josette and Amit first took part in a hunt after only four months of training? Despite that, and Lord Julius’ consenting to have me join in one, my lady Eliza will not allow it. And I don’t understand why.”

Slowly but surely, however, a line of brazen determination forces its way into her countenance. “Still, I took a personal oath to share in the burden my lady’s carried for so long. It pains me so much to do this… but I’m certain she’ll come around if I’m successful. She must…!”

“We’ll get it done. I reckon the two of us could even take on a Risen like the one in Bathurst, even.” Hilda wraps her arm around Paula’s back and gives her a confident shake.

“I feel the same… and thank you,” Paula says with a tender smile. “Now, come with me. I’ll tell you what I know along the way.”

Paula jams another cluster of dark into the Alterium wall, making it turn “watery” again. Pulling Hilda along, Paula brings her right through. Despite it being visible, not to mention very solid a mere moment ago, Hilda feels nothing as she goes through – it’s like there isn’t even air around there. Paula waves her hand and the wall goes back to its normal appearance. There’s only one visible path now: a dark corridor leading underground, illuminated by several spheres of deep blue light.