Music is Cordialement from the Magi OST, composed by Kajiura Yuki. Please do play it!

******

Fortunately, my tears have mostly dried up by the time I return to Battein. Good thing too, for the first person I run into is Everest.

"You all right, Rutherland? It's nowhere near summer, yet you look as peachy as a sunburn," are his opening, optimistic words.

"I'm all right, Everest," I reply, shaking my head. I have to get a grip on myself. Just because Abner isn't around doesn't mean I can go about acting lousy and demotivated. As much as I want to do so. "I'm a bit—tired, that's all."

"Well, I can tell you that Grand Seer Fabienne is nigh nowhere to be found," he says, crossly putting his hands to hips. He looks about our surroundings, dull blond hair ruffled by the faint wind. He looks nowhere near as intimidating as Sir Kendrick, that's for certain, with his leaner build and shorter stature. But there's a certain sharpness in his eyes that one can't dismiss. "What about you? Did the Cave of Three Souls yield any results?"

"Bits and pieces," I say absently, taking in my surroundings as well. I've entered the town through the west, it seems. Pst. Kiaran help me in differentiating the geography of this place though. There's something...odd about the structures. About the way the entire place is constructed. Right now, the oddness is mostly diminished by the incessant chatter and going-on-s of the villagers' daily lives. It'll be the last moment of bustling about for today—everyone should be wrapping everything up, ready for the night.

"Care to share those bits and pieces?" A small child, no more than six, runs past us, clad head to toe in black. She gives me a look, before scurrying off after noting Everest's pointed stare. "What was she looking at?"

"We've only just arrived in Battein for two days, Everest," I say, grinning. "I'm fairly sure that visitors are a rare anomaly in this part of the world."

Everest harrumphs in spectacular knightly fashion. "We are the anomaly," he snorts.

I shrug my shoulders, all too glad that Everest doesn't consider the idea of a girl abruptly stopping to look at us strange at all. So far, the townsfolk involved in the ritual this morning have been keeping a wide berth around me. I pray that this continues for the remainder of our stay here.

Everest promptly returns his attention to me. I keep my posture relaxed, careful not to betray the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. Two days. We've only been here for two days, yet so much has happened—to me at least. I can't say the same for the others.

My eyes burn. I clamp down on my emotions, willing the tears to freeze.

"So, bits and pieces. I'd like to hear them," he says.

The bits and pieces which I haven't entirely figured out myself. "Later. I'd prefer to narrate my experience when everyone is gathered."

"Fair enough." Everest releases the hands on his hips. I notice that he has a longsword strapped to his belt. My mouth opens to berate him—of course he would draw stares on his own, waltzing around with a weapon like that. Even Sir Kendrick had elected to store Bloodslayer in his room. "Well then, shall we return to the mansion? I doubt that Grand Seer Fabienne is anywhere near this place."

"I doubt that too, seeing that you've worked yourself into a considerable state." I gesture towards his head. He makes an effort to smooth it down to its usual pristine self; his hair pays no attention towards his efforts.

"I take that as a yes," he sighs.

Everest walks off first; I follow him. Without having to fret over the possibilities that I might take myself over the border cleaving Perinus and Thiruthia, I take the liberty to observe my surroundings.

It's nothing but a perfect picture of a quaint, bustling village, about to slumber into the night—save for the fact that most of the people are dressed in mourning tones. I exhale, breath clouding before me. If I'm truly going to compell each and every one of Battein's citizens to not let slip a single word of the ritual, it'll be taking me a long time. Not to mention that the process will be mentally taxing.

Abner, are you sure that the ones with Lorelay blood won't let slip about the ritual? I ask.

But I've forgotten that he's no longer here—he's inside the Cave of Three Souls, tethered to Pst. Bronicus's pool. I wrap my arms around myself, telling myself that it's the weather that's making me chilled to the bone.

Fortunately for me, Everest doesn't announce any intention of probing me for answers. Perhaps he's noticed that despite the rigid mask I wear on my face, there's a sinking pit of despair behind that mask. Perhaps he's noticed that despite my posture, there's a heaviness to my footsteps. Perhaps he's noticed both of that.

I continue to remain deep in my thoughts, reflecting on the day. So much has happened—now where will everything go from here? Is everything going according to the Song of Prophecy, as it's supposed to be? Or can I even forge my own path, as Abner had said?

The Prophecy of Far'hellan. I'll have to get my hands on a copy of it, somehow. If I could decipher the differences between the two versions of the same prophecy... Maybe I'll find a hint regarding something. Anything. So long as it propels me towards the right choice in the future.

And then there's Gilbert. He's the only one of the three Champions who hasn't visited the Cave of Three Souls yet. I doubt that Alvina would protest his coming along with me, but I don't know if Sir Kendrick would permit the both of us entering the Lorelays' hallowed grounds without revealing what was going on. It would seem a tad suspicious if I were to eagerly invite my fellow Champion of War there, just after I'd entered the cave myself. Or I could just tell Sir Kendrick about its connection to the Champions.

No. There's Maya to think of. If Sir Kendrick knew of her, there's a huge possibility that he may personally drag her all the way back to Cordair to be executed.

Maya... the Champion of Pst. Zorah, who happens to be a Marshem—a people who don't even believe in the Ancient Religion. All throughout history, I've never heard of a Champion who'd hailed from the Pagan lands. Yet now, in the midst of all this chaos, she arrives. Her very existence defies the Manuscript—just like me, really.

So, who is she? A witch? A Pagan? A Champion?

There's also her ability to communicate directly with her past lives. I grit my teeth, thinking. For the first time, I feel an urge to actively seek her out myself, get all the answers I want.

My headache from the Cave of Three Souls returns with a pounding fervour. A day might come where I'll die from overthinking.

"Say, Rutherland, you hungry?" Everest voice rings out. I gladly take the distraction; for once, I fear drowning in my own mind.

"Not really," I reply, stepping up to walk side by side with him. I blink in surprise when I realise that we're in the town square. Shouldn't we be cutting straight across into the north, where Grand Seer Fabienne's mansion would be?

Right on cue, my stomach elects to rumble its disagreement.

Everest chuckles; I flush from embarrassment. "Come now. Even Champions of War must eat sometimes." He strides towards a closing bakery. Its owner, a tall, weedy man with a stinkeye that could match Sir Isaac's, doesn't bother to remain inconspicuous in studying us, his gaze resembling the tip of a knife slowly being dragged across our skins. However, I sense that most of the intensity of his scrutiny is upon me. No surprise there. He too, is clad in black. Everest seems oblivious, cheerfully paying for two stale loaves of bread.

"Here." He thrusts one into my arms, thanking the weedy baker simultaneously. I take a careful bite out of the bread. It's certainly not fresh, but its texture is perfect. Enough to satisfy my incumbent hunger till dinner.

"Thank you," I say through a mouthful of bread. I hastily recollect my manners and swallow. "Thank you."

"No need for thanks. I'm willing to bet that you didn't have anything since this morning." Everest continues to walk, taking a chomp out of his meal.

"I hadn't," I reply. "But did you walk all the way to the town square just to get us bread?"

"Not really. We so happened to be passing by."

I look at him with interest. He ignores my look, eyes pinned forwards. "What do you mean by that?"

Everest finally turns to look at me. "Surely you'd know? Battein is divided into four sections: North, South, East and West. It was constructed to channel the land's energy into the centre of the area, where the Lorelays would often perform their rituals and whatnot." He pauses for a bit here, scratching at the stubble peppering his chin. "No one is allowed to cut straight across from one section to another. For instance, from the West and into South. Apparently it interferes with the energy lines."

"So cutting through from one section to another would break the flow of energy?" I say.

"If the books are anything to go by."

"Looks like that research did you some good after all," I tease, half-smiling.

Everest stuffs the last bit of bread into his mouth, chews loudly, and swallows it. "Well, reading never did one harm," he replies. "I only managed to find irrelevant information though. Mostly about the town itself."

"Not so irrelevant, considering that you know more about the local customs than a Lorelay himself." I look upwards, allowing the waning sunlight to splash upon my face. I force myself to bask in it, and not curl away from it. If I'm going to hide the fact that my necromancer side has re-emerged, I have to act the part. Act normal, that is.

Which means I have to get used to sunlight. Some way, somehow.

Everest shakes his head. "Honestly though—Pst. Zorah forgive me—I find most of the customs here unnecessary and ridiculous."

"But evidently you think that they're to be respected, in some aspects." I gesture about us. "Otherwise you wouldn't have led us through the long route."

"Customs always deserve to be respected, no matter how deranged they are," he says gruffly. "They're the basis for one's identity, after all."

"Even the Pagan customs?"

That one catches him off guard. I keep my eyes focused straight ahead, looking at nothing but the cobbled path before us. I sense Everest's cautious side-glance at me though. "Yes," he answers, slow and wary, "even the Pagan customs."

"Interesting."

He doesn't make any further comments on the subject.

I'm subconsciously pulled back into my thoughts. I wonder if Everest truly means what he says. I think of Maya and all her strangeness. I wonder if Everest could truly keep to his word, assuming that he does meet Maya in person. After all, he's never been put to the test, has he?

Though I should assume that his refusal to break the Lorelays' superstition is already a testimony to his words. Still...

Stop thinking! I tell myself, just as my temples cry another strike of pain. But why? Why is thinking so hard now, when I've always been one to close myself within my mind?

Why?

"Anyway"—Everest clears his throat here—"it isn't like the Lorelays' customs are all bad, I suppose. They are very pious people, after all. Perhaps even more so than the average Perinian."

It's somehow surprising to hear words like that pour forth from Everest's mouth, whom by this point I've already pegged to be the 'average Perinian'. "In what ways?" I ask, curious.

"Their customs often emphasize the equality of men—as well as the selfless desire to help others of their own kin. As you can tell, they place much importance upon blood relations." Everest almost looks wistful as he speaks, his eyes flickering with a strange light. I think of Alvina, and her bitterness towards my parents. A complete juxtaposition against the Guard walking beside me.

"I haven't sensed much hospitality from them yet though," I say, making sure to keep my tone light.

"Really? Grand Seer Fabienne is treating you like her own already."

I shrug my shoulders. "Anyway, you've got this bit of information from the books you've researched?"

Everest doesn't question the abrupt switch in topic. "Those books are plenty interesting. Unfortunately, they do not contain the information that we currently need."

"I see."

Everest casts another furtive side-glance. "Perhaps you would have been better off doing the research, your patron being the Pietist of War and Strategy, after all," he suggests. "I can't fathom why Sir Kendrick would ever assign me to the books."

"Believe me, I'd love to do the research," I laugh. "Orders are orders, however."

"Orders are orders," he agrees. His eyes flicker once more, this time with a dangerous spark. He shakes his head once, twice; he places a hand atop the hilt of his longsword.

"Something wrong?" I look about us, while tapping into my shadows. No sign of any abnormal activity.

Everest releases a forced chuckle. "Nothing. I just thought about something, that's all."

"Ah." It wasn't just anything though—I can sense that. First his longing tone when he spoke about blood relations; now his odd demeanour regarding his task. There's plenty more to this man than what goes on the surface. Could it be that he's found some...damning information in those books. They are Lorelay, after all—they might contain something about the Deathslayer. About me. And if my impression of Everest is accurate so far, he strikes me as on who wouldn't let a detail slip past his nose.

I briefly consider using my compulsion. It doesn't look like he's about to divulge the inner workings of his current mind to me anytime soon. However, I abandon the idea—it feels like a breach of privacy. Pietists know how much I hate having my own privacy breached.

Everest will tell me in his own time. I can only attempt to know him better and gain his trust.

You expect him to trust you? You who are lying to his face this very moment? a voice at the back of my head whispers.

I grit my teeth. These thoughts are spiralling out of control—I can feel the leash on them loosening, allowing to run in havoc inside my head. There must be a reason for this. Could it be that Abner's presence has somehow been suppressing all this...madness inside me? Could this be the true implication of what he had meant when he'd said that I'd have to learn how to control my own mind? And now that Abner is gone...

That seems like the best logical explanation for all this.

Oh, Abner, how I wish you were here.

Eventually, we approach Grand Seer Fabienne's manor, its stone facades glimmering with twilight, greeting us with an aura of mystery. As we pass by, the servants immediately stop their work and bow to us—to me. Naturally, this doesn't fail to ignite suspicion in Everest.

"What in Pst. Zorah's name was that for?" Everest raises a quizzical brow at me.

"Paying their respects to their guests?" I suggest.

Everest pins me with an interrogating look. Only my regular interactions with Captain Eldric prevent me from crumbling right there and then. "Paying respects to you, I think," he says.

"Whatever for?" Blood pounds in my head. I force myself to move regularly—keep my motions fluid and confident, as how a Champion's should be.

"Because you are of Lorelay blood, of course."

Now I nearly crumble in relief. Miraterciel hums, reminding me to hold myself together. "Mmph. Perhaps."

Everest elects to drop the subject, stoically putting one foot in front of the other. He then stops a young servant girl, after she rises from a deep curtsy in my direction. "Pardon me, but have Sir Kendrick and Squire Falkner returned?" he asks.

"They're in the Raven Room, sir," she replies evenly.

"Ah. Thank you."

With that, we head for said room. My shadows scout the area automatically, feeding images into my mind. It seems that Sir Kendrick and Gilbert are indeed back safe and sound in the Raven Room, along with Sir Isaac, who is sprawled lazily upon a chair. Miraterciel sings out of nowhere; I block out the cries of the athame. There are also two other figures in the room: Grand Seer Fabienne, apparently found easily despite her sudden disappearance; and Alvina.

What is she doing here? I think.

"Sir Kendrick. Sir Isaac. Falkner," Everest calls out when we enter the room. We sweep ourselves into bows.

"Salin, Rutherland," Sir Kendrick greets in return. "We were just about to send out messengers to call you two back."

"No need for that anymore." The Guard nods at Grand Seer Fabienne. "You two were far more effective in your search, it seems."

"Disgraceful!" the Grand Seer barks. "Being called upon like a—like a mongrel!"

"As far as I know, Grand Seer, you were invited to talk with us," Sir Kendrick says dryly. "And you agreed to be here to answer a few questions we have."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that you have a necromancer in your presence?"

Stunned silence fills the room. Meanwhile, I spew out a string of curse words internally. The Grand Seer—what in the Seven Hells is she thinking? I instantly picture Sir Kendrick closing in on me, ready to tear me apart with Bloodslayer—the weapon he used to take the lives of hundreds of Ravürkians during the war. No, he wouldn't do that—he'd tie me to the stake and watch me drown in flames. Yes, that's the correct punishment for wielding necromancy.

Alvina steps forward and clears her throat. "I apologise for my grandmother's abrupt...announcement," she says. Then she turns towards me and Everest. "I believe I hadn't the pleasure of meeting you two yet."

She curtsies; we bow. Now that we're in a place with proper lighting, I can take in Alvina's features in full. Which bear a prominent resemblance to my mother's—and me, indirectly. Narrow nose, rounded chin, straight brows. She's taken off the cloth that was wrapped around her head too, allowing her dark red hair to tumble over her shoulder in a braid. In fact, the only notable difference between her and my mother are her eyes—full of a hardness that has never once crossed Mother's.

"Sir Everest, at your service," says Everest.

"Squire Rutherland," I say.

"Seer Alvina. But Alvina will do," says Alvina.

"Now that the introductions are over, can we get on with the main topic?" interjects Sir Isaac snappishly.

All of us turn to look at him. Again, that necromantic chill runs down my spine. I try my best to suppress it. Almost as though he were still here, I hear Abner's voice echoing in my mind: You will always have a choice.

Miraterciel hums inside my boot.

"Right. Grand Seer Fabienne." Sir Kendrick reverts his attention to the spindly woman.

"I foresee ill fortune in the future for all of you!" The Grand Seer lifts a trembling finger, while throwing an arm over her forehead for dramatic effect. "You have allowed a shadow into your presence!"

I swallow a growl. How I wish I could throttle her right here and now. It doesn't matter if she's an elder and my great-grandmother.

Alvina squares her shoulders. "Grand Seer, we musn't divulge sacred information to outside ears," she says, wielding the grace of a swan ready to take flight. She then walks towards the Grand Seer and steers her towards one of the chairs, coaxing her to sit down without a word.

"Does it matter anymore?" Grand Seer Fabienne howls. "We're doomed! We're all doomed!"

"Grand Seer Fabienne," Sir Kendrick bites out every syllabus. "If you would just quiet down and listen to what we have to say."

An air of clarity washes over the Grand Seer. Her countenance shifts ever so slightly; it's like she's just been lifted from a trance. I wonder if my other companions notice this. I flick my eyes over my peripheral vision; not one of them displays any surprise at the shift. "All right then." Grand Seer Fabienne flicks a commanding wrist at the Bane, who seethes in response. Apparently her previous ravings are to be taken as nonsense, as she makes no mention of them. "Go on."

"Milord, my apologies," Alvina pipes up. "Grand Seer Fabienne has just returned from a Seeing session in the Cave of Three Souls. It's...taxing."

"I can tell," Sir Kendrick replies, barely keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. "Anyway, we were going to ask about the Cave of Three Souls."

All humour-slash-madness instantly vanishes from Grand Seer Fabienne's limbs. "What do you want to know about it?"

"It's magicked, isn't it?"

Grand Seer Fabienne and Alvina go still. Very still, as if they were marionettes waiting to come to life. Blood roars in my ears. Think, Constantine, I tell myself as I try to gather my jumbled thoughts. Think. How do you help them deflect Sir Kendrick's attention from the cave? I have to help them. Otherwise my best chance of learning my abilities is gone, assuming that Sir Kendrick bars all visits to the Cave of Three Souls.

I count thirty seconds before Alvina opens her mouth to speak: "So what if it is?"

I see fire in the Bane's eyes, sparking dangerously. "Magic is banned. Not just in Perinus, but in the entire world," he says, deathly quiet.

"We have been preserving the Cave of Three Souls for centuries now," Grand Seer Fabienne says. For once, I'm taken aback by her—she actually sounds like a true leader of the Lorelays, and not the token head of a ragtag bunch of charlatans. "We are not going to give up on our role just because some silly person decreed it so."

"Silly people, you mean. It was a mutual agreement between the leaders of the world," says Sir Kendrick. "We've only left it alone till recently because as ridiculous as your people are, we still have a duty to uphold our respect for sacred grounds. But now..."

"Watch your tongue, boy," snarls Grand Seer Fabienne. Her eyes are practically smouldering, straining to toast the Bane to a crisp. "You may think of us as fools, and you can insult us all you like outside this village. But overstep your place here, and you will pay the price."

Sir Kendrick's hackles rise. I stand there, unable to react to the situation. Gilbert steps to the Bane's side. "Sir," he says, voice low.

That's all that is required to make Sir Kendrick calm down. The Bane exhales through his mouth. "Right. I apologise, Grand Seer."

Grand Seer Fabienne nods approvingly. "All right. We shall put that matter behind us," she continues. "The Cave of Three Souls. Why do you wish to access it?"

Although I'm not looking at her, I sense Alvina's gaze resting upon me for a moment, before it roams the room once more. "We are under no obligation to allow you into the cave," Alvina adds, "in case you've forgotten."

"No. I haven't forgotten," Sir Kendrick answers grimly. "However, I'm only asking about it because we still have to determine the source of the infection. Right now, we need to investigate all leads. And since your village is essentially the birthplace of necromancy—"

"We do not dabble in the dark side of necromancy," Alvina retorts. "Besides, all of our sorcerers and necromancers were either executed or exiled. What little magic we have, is in actuality the remnants left to us by them in order to continue carrying out our responsibilities."

There's an undisguised bitterness in her tone. Then I realise that I haven't seen her parents—my grandparents. If Grand Seer Fabienne is still alive and breathing, theoretically they should be around too. And yet—

Oh. Realisation slaps me full in the face.

Necromancers are born with alternating generations. Before Alvina's generation, which means that her parents must have been some of the numerous necromancers executed or exiled after Diomedes's first death.  

Sir Kendrick dips his head slightly. "I cannot undo what losses you have sustained"—the losses in question are her parents, Sir Kendrick, I think—"but we must do what we can to prevent this. To prevent any further losses."

Grand Seer Fabienne and Alvina share a look; I can almost feel a thousand words passing between them, invisible questions and answers being exchanged. Then they look at Sir Kendrick. "We still cannot allow you passage into the Cave of Three Souls," says Alvina. "However, if you do insist upon investigating the place, the two Champions are granted entrance."

I fight the urge to grin; on the other hand, Gilbert's jaw goes slack with surprise. The same goes for my companions—save for Sir Isaac, interestingly, who seems to have anticipated this already. Everest is first to recover from Alvina's statement. "Sir, I'm afraid we can't refuse this," he suggests gently.

Sir Kendrick blinks, snapping himself back into reality. "Right. Er—of course." He clears his throat. "Agreed. We also require that you help us in any way you can, regarding the infection."

A faint smile tugs at Alvina's lips. "I'm not sure if I was quite moved by your previous speech milord, about preventing any further losses," she teases. "But for the sake of Perinus, we will try."

Sir Kendrick bows. The rest of us startle, before dropping onto one knee and bowing our heads—standard protocol. Save for Sir Isaac, again—one due to the fact that he's less than inclined to rise from his chair; two due to the fact that although Sir Kendrick is technically of a higher rank than him, he's still older.

I allow my eyes to drift upwards. Alvina looks taken aback, but holds her ground fairly well, chin lifted and posture straight. Grand Seer Fabienne, meanwhile, looks like a battier version of Sir Isaac. "Please, Sir Kendrick. This isn't necessary," the Grand Seer snorts.

"This is the only form of gratitude we can pay to you right now." Sir Kendrick lifts himself from the bow; the rest of us rise onto our feet. "I'd hate to admit this, but Perinus is weak. If we allow anymore disasters to descend upon us..."

"Understood. You needn't spell out the consequences for us to gain our sympathy." Grand Seer Fabienne finally hoists herself to stand up. "The Lorelays are your allies. We do not want the end of the world to happen, after all."

Despite the ominous ringing in the Grand Seer's tone, especially at that last sentence, Sir Kendrick manages a smile. "Thank you."

"I believe we've gone through that already." Grand Seer Fabienne brushes past the Bane, heading towards the door. Alvina trails behind; I try to catch her eye, but it doesn't wander once in my direction. "The Champions will be allowed to visit tomorrow, after sunrise. Now, please leave us alone for the night. It was a very important Seeing session you had interrupted."

Sir Kendrick looks like he has a scathing comeback hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he reins it in. "As you wish, Grand Seer," he says.

Alvina holds the door open. Grand Seer Fabienne glides out of the room. Her granddaughter lingers for a while, inclining her head towards us. "Good evening," she says, before exiting the room herself.

The door closes with a minatory groan.

******

A/N: Little more character exploration on Everest here. What do you guys think of him so far? And do you think Constantine will be able to cope well without Abner? She seems okay so far, but...we'll see. And there's Sir Isaac...

You guys know the drill: Vote, comment, share and recommend!