Severance returned to the Veiled Clan House in a flurry of pale green wind. Because of the extreme cold of the Untold, he had Earth Dance activated to help keep himself warm. With a simple thought, the wind faded into nothing.

He gently rubbed Vast's head before telling him to go hunt. There was little for the beast to hunt in the Ironback mountains or the Untold region, and no doubt the vastlhidan was hungry. It took some encouraging before Vast whuffed gently and trotted off obediently.

Severance began removing his gloves and scarf, tossing them into Inventory. While he was doing this, he heard a quiet scoff.

A young man stood nearby with an expressionless face, but there was no denying the hostility in his ink-black eyes. It was Wellon, the Veiled teenager who had once helped Severance with a dungeon run. Only, after the dungeon was finished, Wellon had gone out of his way to kill Severance. Since then, Severance had only seen Wellon once or twice, which was one or two times too many as far as he was concerned.

Severance ignored him and set about removing his fur lined boots and pants. He was already sweating heavily and couldn't get them off fast enough. Soon, he stood in bare feet and tattered black pants, and worked at undoing the ties that kept the heavy fur coat together.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Wellon approaching. Severance worked on undoing the last tie, but shifted his body so he faced the teenager.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Wellon stopped a few feet away. He was just outside of arm's reach.

"You've been busy," Wellon said.

Severance ignored the little remark. The last tie had a knot in it, and it was giving him some grief. He glanced up, and saw the courtyard was empty.

"Where is everyone?"

He actually wanted to ask where Mouna was, but for some reason, the idea of mentioning her name to Wellon was repulsive.

Wellon didn't answer the question. Instead, he revealed a very subtle sneer, with one corner of his lips edging upwards a fraction.

"I heard you sold yourself to the Fang. It's not surprising. I knew you'd be a traitor."

Severance's fingers froze. He looked at Wellon, jaw clenching. "Don't talk about what you have no clue about."

"I know a traitor when I see one." Wellon began to move, walking a slow circle around Severance, like he was a lion prowling around his prey. "Maybe now Agadhi will finally kick you out."

With a snap, the last tie broke free. Severance yanked off the coat and threw it into Inventory without a further thought. He was left in the same simple black shirt and pants that Wellon wore, only his was nearly torn apart.

Severance hadn't had a chance to clean up since he left the dungeon, and dried blood was caked all over his skin. The shirt barely covered half of his torso, with ragged ends already stiff with old blood. Fresh blood still glistened around the hole in the center of his shirt. But that wasn't the worst of it: his shoulder and arm were completely bare, and the reddened, scabbed flesh there showed a severe case of the Afflicted's disease.

Wellon's next step faltered, his pupils shrinking. Then he lifted his chin arrogantly, refusing to back down.

"I don't have time to deal with you today," Severance told him.

He needed to get the Afflicted issue looked after, and he also wanted to see Mouna before he left. She was a bright spot of tranquility in this crazy world, and with every passing minute, the urge to see her grew.

Wellon continued pacing around Severance. "No? That's too bad. I guess you only have time for the Fang now. Why don't you run off to them instead of coming here? No one wants you here."

Severance's eyes darkened. But he restrained himself and headed for the House. With a flicker of movement, Wellon appeared in front of him, blocking his way.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Get out of the way," Severance said, his patience fraying. He already was in a poor mood, and Wellon.... Wellon was asking to be beaten.

"No." Wellon's eyes flashed. "We don't allow traitors or cowards here."

"Get your head checked. I'm neither of those things. So move it."

"Or what? You going to cry? Poor little weakling."

The last fraying thread snapped. Anger roared through Severance's head and he lunged forward. Wellon laughed and went to dodge, but his laughter suddenly cut short.

Severance was far faster than expected. His hand curled around Wellon's throat and using his momentum, he slammed Wellon down onto the ground. It would have stunned an ordinary person, but Wellon twisted like a wildcat and kicked Severance in the belly.

To Severance, it was just a little tickle. He didn't even flinch. He threw a punch with all his strength. It connected with Wellon's nose and the bone snapped. Wellon choked, his eyes flying wide with pure shock.

Yet Severance didn't stop. There was a punching bag in front of him, and he was all too happy to vent. His blows rained down again and again, until he realized that Wellon was no longer moving.

It was like he'd been abruptly doused in ice water. Clarity returned and he stared in stunned silence. Wellon's face was no longer recognisable.

Severance sucked in a breath. The teen's chest still moved, so he was still breathing. But his face...

Quickly getting up, Severance pulled out a fan and threw a Mend on Wellon. The worst of the damage faded, but it was still very obvious Wellon had been beaten badly. Severance looked at him for a long moment. His guilt slowly faded, replaced by an eerie satisfaction.

Forget it. The kid would live. Let him enjoy some bruises and a broken nose for a while. Without a second look, Severance strode into the House. He only made it three steps before a hand clamped around his shoulder.

"Severance," said a low, calm voice.

Severance's first instinct was to jerk away, but then he recognized the man standing before him. It was Batin. The man was a tall, dangerous shadow with glinting black eyes.

In that instant, Severance realized Batin had seen everything that happened outside. He swallowed.

"Hi."

Batin didn't say anything at first. He simply looked Severance over, his gaze lingering for a long moment at the obvious signs of Affliction on Severance's arm and shoulder. Then he met Severance's eyes.

"Did you just finish with the Fang?" he asked mildly.

Severance gave a short, jerky nod. "Yes."

"Hm. Come." Batin let go and walked out of the House.

He was, Severance, realized, going to Wellon. With some reluctance, he followed.

Batin stood by Wellon's unconscious body. He observed the teen, unperturbed, then folded his arms behind his back.

"Heal him, please."

The Veiled man's voice was so calm, there was no way to tell if he was displeased or angry. Yet Severance's face was pale. He knew what he'd done was wrong.

He took out a war fan and sent a few Mends to Wellon. Batin knelt, pinching Wellon's crooked nose and working it into place so it healed correctly. Then he stood while the remainder of the healing winds sank into the teen.

After a short while, Wellon's eyes opened. He immediately scowled and sat up, one hand going to his face. Then he noticed Batin standing next to him, and he froze. The look on his face was almost comical.

"Batin! You—you're here."

Batin showed no expression. "Get up."

Wellon hurriedly scrambled to his feet. When he saw Severance, his expression contorted. He quickly lowered his head to hide it.

"If the circumstances were different, I would take both of you out and beat you to within an inch of your lives," Batin said mildly. "We do not fight each other. Ever."

Severance hung his head, saying nothing. His fingers twitched.

Batin turned to look directly at Wellon. "Wellon, you are foolish and immature. Severance's dealings with the Fang have been approved and deemed vital. If anyone were to be a traitor, it's you."

Wellon stiffened. His chin lifted. "No, that's not true!"

"It is," Batin cut in sharply. "By acting as you have, you have already betrayed a fellow clan member. You are fortunate he didn't kill you."

"But he's just an Outsider! How can you-?"

"Stop."

The single word held an incomparable sharpness. Wellon shut his mouth, paling further.

Batin shifted his attention to Severance. "Do you know where you went wrong?"

Severance hesitated. "I lost control."

He let Wellon's stupid provocation get to him. He felt a little guilty about how far he went, but even so, he'd wasn't upset at all about breaking Wellon's nose. The brat deserved it.

"Yes," Batin agreed. "Clarity of mind is essential. Before you leave tonight, I will teach you how to meditate."

Severance held back a wince. Meditation? He didn't want to do any of that. He just wanted to see Mouna and log off. Couldn't he do that instead? He opened his mouth to protest, but fell silent as Batin approached him.

"Both of you, come with me."

Batin moved past him, entering the house. With some reluctance, both Severance and Wellon followed. Neither of them looked at the other.

Batin led them to the back of the House, and soon Severance recognized where they were going: the basement. His chest tightened. It wasn't hard to guess that Batin was intending to deal with the Afflicted disease, but why did he tell Wellon to come?

Although the House itself was quiet, the basement was full of activity. There were over half a dozen of the clan sitting at several tables, some nursing drinks, while others had small plates of snacks. A quiet murmur of voices filled the basement, though it briefly faded when Batin arrived with Wellon and Severance.

Batin ignored the curious stares. He pointed at a small table with two chairs. "Sit."

Severance was the first to obey, pulling out a chair and settling heavily in the wooden seat. Sullenly, Wellon took the other chair.

No one said anything, and after a moment, some of the chatter resumed. Severance absently scratched at his arm, watching as Batin approached the bar.

The white-haired Ozul was behind the counter as before. As Batin approached, it was so very clear that the two were father and soon. Everything about them was nearly identical, from facial features to the very way they stood, like a naked knife blade ready to cut.

"We need some of the red," Batin said.

Ozul's cool gaze flicked to the table where Severance and Wellon sat. "Hm."

Without further ado, he turned and disappeared into the back room. He came back out with a bottle. He said nothing further as he poured a cupful and passed it to Batin. With a quiet nod of thanks, Batin returned to the table.

He set the cup down in front of Severance. The deep red liquid within rippled like blood. It turned Severance's stomach. He remembered this stuff. The last time he drank this stuff, he went completely loopy.

Lifting his gaze, he saw the unpleasant face of Wellon across from him. Severance was very unwilling to let Wellon witness him make a fool of himself.

A long knife suddenly stabbed into the table, making both Wellon and Severance jump. As one, they looked up at Batin with widened eyes.

"Severance will drink," Batin said calmly, "and Wellon, you will remove the Afflicted tissue."

Severance stared. "What?"

"What?!" At the same time, Wellon abruptly stood. Their voices blended together in a common note of shock.

Batin merely pointed at Wellon's seat. The teenager sat back down, his eyes dropping from Batin to the long knife embedded in the table. Then his eyes flickered to the reddened flesh of Severance's arm and shoulder.

"I can't do that," Wellon said faintly. For the first time, his usually impassive face revealed a very clear expression of disbelief.

"You will," Batin returned. "This is your punishment. It's time to open your eyes, Wellon. Your foolish words have brought harm to a clan member."

"But why do I have to do this?" Wellon choked.

Severance eyed Wellon in bewilderment. Why should this bother the teen? Hadn't Wellon already killed him once? If anything, he would have thought Wellon to be more than happy to chop him up.

Batin remained unmoved. "Drink, Severance."

Severance frowned. He didn't like anything about this, but he recognized the tone in Batin's voice. It was absolutely unyielding.

He picked up the cup and drank half it in one go. At once, his entire throat and tongue stung fiercely, and tears sprang to his eyes. He coughed fiercely, his stomach revolting. For a second, he thought he'd puke, but then a sense of warmth immediately began to spread within.

"I can't do this," Wellon continued to protest.

By now, the entire basement had fallen silent. Everyone was watching, but Severance couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He felt lightheaded and warm, and knew the fast-acting red was already hitting his system. Gripping the mug, he drained the rest of it.

He sat numbly, until a cool hand patted his cheek, drawing his attention up to Batin. "Take out one of your fans, Severance."

"Oh. Okay." Blinking a few times, Severance summoned a war fan to his hands. He set it carefully on the table, his eyes captured by the blue crystal set in its rivet. It was quiet eye-catching. He touched it lightly, then tilted forward.

Next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the table in a comfortable haze. He giggled softly, aware that he was probably very drunk. Poor Wellon. He didn't get to be drunk.

Hands arranged him on the table, adjusting his position. Voices murmured, and people moved about. Severance felt rather comfortable the entire time. His eyes drooped, oblivious to the action around him.

Eventually someone crouched next to him, their face level with his. The face was blurry, but the ebony eyes were very clear and steady.

"Cast Mend, Severance."

Severance blinked slowly. Everything was red and pulsing, like a heart beating in his head. "...why?"

"Because you're injured. You need to heal yourself."

"Oh." Severance thought that made sense. He got injured a lot in dungeons. He had to heal himself all the time. "Then... mend?"

Nothing happened. Then he giggled, because this was an easy problem. Silly, he needed Earth Dance. With a simple thought, warm wind swirled around him. It felt nice, and he sighed, relaxing.

Then the blurry face interrupted him again. "Mend, Severance. Quickly."

Oh right. He'd forgotten. Mend, he thought. Mend quickly. The winds grew stronger, and his vision grew a little clearer. The face came into focus, and it looked rather familiar. It was also very close.

Severance let go of his fan and poked the face's nose. "Why do you look like Batin?"

Long fingers curled around his wrist and gently pulled his hand away. His war fan was stuffed into his hand.

"Cast Mend again."

"Okay." When the winds came, some of the haze began to lift. And with it, Severance became aware of a tingling discomfort in his arm. He raised his head and looked over. "Huh."

That was... kind of gross. And messy. No wonder they wanted him to Mend. He flicked his fan upwards, and a shimmering Dome settled around him. His clarity trickled back steadily, and he realized that Wellon was standing off to the side. No wait, he wasn't standing. He was bending over, vomiting.

Severance wrinkled his brow, and looked down at his arm. It hadn't been that bad, had it? It was just a missing arm. Well, it wasn't missing now. It was mostly regrown.

With another Mend, it became whole. It ached, new nerve endings coming to life. Severance paled, his breath growing shallow. But he didn't utter a sound. As soon as he could, he cast another Mend. The discomfort eased.

After that, he sat back in his chair, letting the last regenerative effects of the Radiant Dome do the rest. He returned his fan to Inventory, and wiped his face with his new hand. Sweat practically poured off of him.

Movement beside him made him look over. It was Batin, rising to his full height. Remembering what he'd done to the man's nose, Severance swallowed nervously. It was better off that he pretended to forget. Just pass it off as being too delirious. Otherwise, it'd be too embarrassing.

He averted his eyes.

There was a violet shimmer, and his blood that had been spilled began to evaporate. And with it went the remnants of what had once been his diseased arm. In a few moments, the entire area became pristine and spotless like it had been before. Well, as pristine as a dirt floor and grungy table could be.

Wellon straightened, looking positively green. He wiped his mouth, and he did, his gaze met Severance's. He froze.

But Severance just smiled slightly. Seeing Wellon so out of sorts put him in a good mood. And maybe he was still a bit loopy himself, because he said, "Thanks."

Wellon just stared at him. And after an impossibly long time, he finally gave a curt nod. Then he turned and fled, rushing out of the basement. No one stopped him.

Severance sighed. Kids. They'd learn eventually.