Hannah grinned and nodded as she listened to Princess Chariya's endless gushing over the success of their meeting. However, her mind was more occupied with trying to imagine how Wendy could be honest in her claim to have convinced the hotel staff to allow the Sand Dollar to make a rooftop landing in their absence. Hannah hurried her footsteps, eager to return and discover if it was really true. 

"It is true we will have to wait seven days before he will begin sending us men." Chariya said, continuing a train of thought Hannah hadn't boarded until now, "But nonetheless, the promise of Innutukian aide certainly lifts my spirits, and hopefully, everybody's morale will then increase." 

Baird nodded. "I hope so, too. With Innutukian legions on our side, victory seems so much more tangible." 

"Indeed!" the princess agreed, "After a path of disappointments and defeat, it is encouraging to relish in a moment of success." 

"Like overcoming writer's block." Baird remarked with a smirk. 

Hannah and Chariya both grinned back at Baird and laughed. Then the three continued on their way to the hotel. When they arrived, they ascended the elevator straight to the rooftop. Once the doors opened, Hannah beamed at the sight of the Sand Dollar resting on its landing gear perfectly in the middle. 

Her grin widened when her eyes landed on Aaron and Wendy sitting side by side on a crate. Hannah dashed over to the two and embraced them both. 

"How'd it go?" she asked Aaron excitedly. 

He glanced up pleasantly at the sight of Hannah, but bit his lip and hesitated at her question. "Well...we succeeded, so yeah." 

Hannah tilted her head. "Then why do ya seem down? And where's everybody else?" 

"Keira's washing up inside, last I saw her. And Ace...well...I dunno—" 

"C'mon, tell me!" 

Aaron sighed. "He's not walking right now." 

"Why's dat?" 

Wendy grunted. "That bloody chinless wonder you and Keira picked up struck again, apparently!" 

Hannah frowned. "Brant, ya mean?" 

"Yeah, that idiot. He's been nothing but trouble this whole bloody time." 

"I wouldn't say that, he's just...tryin' to find his way, I reckon." 

"Well, he'd better find it quick." Aaron muttered, "Because this 'finding his way' business nearly killed my sister and did injure Ace." 

Hannah took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before finally releasing it. "Can I go see him?" 

"Which him?" 

"Ace." she replied with a light grin. 

"I think Sila's gonna bring him out when he's all bandaged up." Aaron said, "You should probably just wait until then." 

"Alright. And Brant...where's he?" 

"He's moping on a balcony somewhere, more than likely." 

Hannah nodded. "Well, I'll be back up in a bit. Gotta put my coat away, anyhow." 

"Sounds good." Aaron patted the brunette's shoulder and smiled before watching her pivot on her heel and head for the elevator again. 

After the twin doors slid aside, Hannah marched down the hallway and entered their suite. Aside from two of Chariya's soldiers playing checkers on the floor and a third clicking through television channels, the common area was empty. The girl tossed her coat onto an armchair and headed straight for the balcony door. 

Hannah slid the door aside, and sure enough, she found Brant leaning against the balcony railing. She offered him a smile when he glanced back. He only nodded in return. 

Not fazed, she placed her arms on the railing and mimicked his posture. "Hey," she began slowly, "you feelin' alright?" 

Brant glanced sharply at the girl and bit his lip. "Not particularly, but I'll be fine." 

"Well, what's wrong?" 

The man shrugged. Only after a long silence did he respond. "It seems everybody's upset with me for breaking a promise I never made." 

"What happened, exactly?" she asked, "I wasn't never told." 

He sighed. "The artifact was right in our grasp, but Ace and Keira fell into trouble. They assumed I'd be willing to help them." 

"Well, why didn'tcha? You coulda got the artifact after that, right?" 

"Maybe, but who really knows? Life has a habit of doing the worst it can, and given time, that effect increases exponentially." Brant scratched his nose. "Besides, why did we go to Forbache? You tell me." 

"Is dis a trick question? Ya went to get dat artifact." 

"Exactly! And so, why's it so surprising that I, when given a choice between completing our objective, or saving people I don't know or care about, chose the former? It's the only logical thing to do!" 

Hannah sighed. "I see where you're comin' from, but ain't life more precious to be protected than success?" 

Brant squinted thoughtfully. "That's a tough one...but ultimately, it's one and the same in this case. Our success in retrieving that artifact is one step closer to saving tons of life from the gods' vile influence." 

"I guess dat's true." 

"What frustrates me, is we all went there for the same reason. We all shared one goal. But yet, once they failed to guard their own safety, it suddenly became my problem. This is quite unlike any army I've ever seen before, because anywhere else, the mission comes first and foremost." 

"Well," Hannah replied, "If I'm bein' honest with ya, we often don't feel like an army to me, 'cause we actually care 'bout each other and what not." 

"That's cool for you guys. But it seems to me that they should be thankful I'm fighting with them at all, and for ultimately the same goal." 

"Sometimes, it ain't so much about what we're fightin' for, but why." 

"And why's that?" 

"Well, think about it. Some people's reasons for doin' things are straight-up wrong, while others're just inadequate. One man may be fightin' another for his family's safety, while another could do the same just over bein' insulted somehow. And who's more honorable between the two?" 

"The first man, obviously." 

"And why's dat?" 

Brant bit his lip. "Because...he had a good reason to fight. Not just something little as a slight." 

Hannah nodded. "Exactly! And dat's the thing 'bout a good motive. Success or failure...it don't matter, 'cause ya know deep in your soul dat you were fightin' for somethin' right. Even if ya lose, it's gotta have been worth it." 

"Yeah, that makes sense." 

"So yeah, I get that ya wanna gather up these artifacts to destroy them and all dat. But now I'll ask you, why?" 

"Why?" Brant echoed slowly. His eyes narrowed slightly and his lips tightened to a thin line. "I'd say...I'm doing this because I know what's at stake here more than anybody else does. These gods are truly too dangerous to be left unchecked. If they're unleashed, people will get hurt. People will die. That's why." 

"Educated altruism." Hannah drawled thoughtfully, "You're sure you're bein' completely honest, there?" 

"Of course. Why do you ask?" 

"Well, nothin' really, just true altruism's in real shortage these days. A whole lotta people like to think they got it, but few really do. I don't wanna offend ya, but are ya sure there ain't somethin' else drivin' you than just dat?" 

"Maybe...I dunno!" Brant exclaimed, "What about you? What're you fighting for?" 

Hannah's jaw shifted. "Hmm, good question. I'd say...hope, I guess?" 

"Hope? How do you even rationalize that?" 

"Well, I really do believe life's worth livin', no matter how hard it gets. As long as you're alive, ya can make a difference—make this world a better place, and make your own life better, too. Even in the darkest chapter, givin' up's not an option, 'cause then, ya never git to see how the story ends." 

Brant scratched the back of his head. "And you're just assuming this story has a happy ending worth reaching?" 

"Of course!" Hannah replied with a grin, "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? Dyin'? God'll then take me home!" 

The girl's contagious smile spread to Brant's lips. "That is a comforting sentiment." he admitted, "So you fight each day for the hope of a better tomorrow." 

"Yeah!" she affirmed with a squealing tone, "Life's a blessin', and givin' up on it's pretty darn ungrateful." 

Brant stood up straight and nodded. "At the moment, I have so much uncertainty, questioning everything, so it's refreshing to hear such a positive perspective. I'll have to put some more thought into this, but don't you lose that hope in the meanwhile. Promise?" 

Hannah giggled as she watched him head for the door. "Promise. Take care." 

"Thanks, you too." Brant replied with a salute. Then he stepped through the open door and left the girl alone outside. 

******************** 

Minutes later, Brant sat in the bathtub with half his body submerged. He relished in the warmth with closed eyes. Behind those eyes, his mind raced. 

Hannah's probing questions lingered in his mind. His thoughts wriggled, attempting to evade a certain guilt that threatened to settle over him. His claim to 'educated altruism', as she'd put it, was mostly true. 

But her question, was he sure there wasn't something else driving him too, it haunted him. 

"No." he answered verbally, causing himself to jump in surprise. "No, there's more to it than that." 

His mind flashed to memories of his childhood, and tears forced through his eyelids. The thoughts dominating his mind were terrible to look at, but impossible to peel the mind's eye from. 

"He's nothing but a runt, Elle." declared a heavy-set man with grizzled hair, "It's all he'll ever be." 

"That's our son you're talking about!" Elle exclaimed. 

"Yep. Ashamed to say it. Guess even the best factories make a defective product here and there. At least we have three real sons." 

Brant opened his eyes and sobbed as his mind released him from that memory. He only had a second to attempt processing it before being yanked into another. 

"Good work, boys." the grizzled man said, glancing over the partially-constructed brick walls surrounding a newly-built house. 

He had assigned one wall to each of his four boys, and he grinned, seeing that three of them already extended halfway across their planned widths, and rose about three feet in height. Then he frowned at Brant's measly two dozen bricks before also rolling his eyes at the son who'd laid them down. 

The robust father led the way indoors, where Elle stood and stirred a massive pot of steaming stew. 

"Just in time!" she exclaimed, "Hefty portions for you working men?" 

The grizzled man nodded. "Yep. Well...maybe not for Brant. He didn't do much of nothin' anyway." 

Brant glared. "Yeah I did! I worked—" 

"You don't deserve equality with your brothers who actually worked hard! Why should you?" 

"Nobody helped me move those heavy—" 

"Oh, so that's your complaint now? C'mon and man up, son! Even your sisters could do a better job than you out there!" He turned to his wife. "See, just like I told you. He'll never be nothin'. Just a useless excuse for you to cook more food, and maybe he'll be some girl's wife someday." 

Brant snapped out of this memory with a growl and shook his fist in the air. The hot tears cascading down his cheeks had previously been merely sad, but they were now mingled with anger. 

It had been for good reason he'd run away from home the moment his eighteenth birthday struck, and never looked back. His eagerness to take up the offer to join an Alcontean program dedicated to preparing individuals for possible divinity hadn't been unfounded. He'd been out to prove a point—that he was worthy of respect just like anybody else. 

"Nah, he ain't gonna cut it," asserted a well-dressed official as he watched Brant's struggle to complete his tenth pushup. "He ain't gonna be worthy no time." 

Brant currently scoffed at all the men during his training who strove to discourage him, and incessantly voiced their doubts of his worthiness. Where were they now? Somewhere insignificant, no doubt. 

Even the spirit of Falcon himself had declared Brant unworthy. Where was he? A mere white slime somewhere in an Antapeñan park, his voice confined to the spiritual realm. And he intended for Dove to suffer the same fate. The gods had questioned his worth, and so he would destroy them. That, he realized as he stepped out of the tub, was his real motive.

******************** 

A/N: Well then...we've now reached the crux of the matter, I suppose. We're now beginning to understand what makes Brant tick. Also, I believe this is actually the first flashback I've ever written! I'm usually not all that into them (I feel there're usually half a dozen better ways to convey the same information), but I think in this instance, the opportunity jumped at me, and it makes sense this way. And especially with the way Brant's mind works, it becomes more about us seeing his thoughts than it is an author shoving some scene in your face they should've put in the prologue somewhere. 😂

Anyway, aside from my annoyance with poorly done flashbacks, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it, which was a lot. Please remember to show any appreciation by twinkling that little "vote" star and letting me wonder what you are in the comments. 😆 

(I'm unsure whether to feel clever or stupid right now. My mind's a pendulum.) 

So, I'd like to know, so far, what character's struggle do you find the most compelling in this story? 

(I don't think I'll answer that one, because I know too much, lol.) 

And for our random question, what's your birth month, and what do you like about it? 

(Mine's March, and I love that month, partly because both winter and spring are seasons I absolutely love, and in that time, I get to have a little of both. It's just a perfect transitionary month in my opinion.) 

Well, that'll be it for me today! I hope you enjoy yourself in our apartness, and I hope to see you in Friday's update!