Epilogue (Free Post-Game Roleplay)

In the winter of 963, a castle rolled in from the sky, and in the autumn of 964 it fell to the ground. Wherever it went, it changed the world surrounding it. Its footprint can be felt throughout the entire continent, and will no doubt be felt for generations to come.

I will be blunt. As a scholar, I have always endeavored to be an objective observer. Titling my chronicle of one of the most major wars in the past few centuries, one which is going to have massive repercussions on the world as a whole, the Legend of Castle High seems to compromise this objectivity. It seems like I'm covering up an uncountable number of sins. We left vast swathes of destruction in our wake, and by wrapping the whole thing in a pretty bow and claiming it's a fairy tale it must seem like I'm downplaying the destruction left in the wake of the mechanized fortress.

In reality, this couldn't be farther from the truth.

Those who were present in that final battle can confirm. What transpired there was a battle of legend itself. Castle High was created to be a weapon against history, to turn the world into one where the heavens themselves have been blotted out and the earth has been transformed into a living hell.

This was to be its legacy.

But not one of the soldiers that fought for Castle High, from the greatest commander to the "heroes" of Regiment 1-31 to the rank and file, would ever stand for that nightmare.

Here, I have recorded in detail everything that I could recover from the castles we fought. I have recorded what information I could on the civilizations these were a part of. And I have recounted the war by, for, and against Castle High. I have described these things in intense detail, page by page, frame by frame.

My hope is that by accurately recounting this information, I can leave the message that the soldiers of Castle High ultimately stood for to future generations. That we are masters of our own fate, that peace is always an option, that anything can be overcome with teamwork and courage.

Ultimately, the reason why history is taught is to avoid repeating it, and this is also one of the many reasons we tell stories. In my other writings, I will generally avoid this kind of mythologicization. In most cases, it is a perversion of the truth. But I can verify that everything I say here is a truth of its own; If not the whole truth, then the truth as I understand it. You can refuse to believe me if you wish, but even if you deny the credibility of this story, recall the message.

I recognize what ultimately became of what Castle High fought. This is part of why I recount its story. I hope to avoid such things in the future. And I also recognize that to future generations, the scale and intensity of this conflict may be unimaginable.

But there is a future in the midst. One we ultimately fought to prevent. And perhaps by recounting our battle against it, we can avoid repeating it.

I'm lucky both of us managed to survive to see this date, to be honest.

Bran figured that since they were just going out to lunch, he shouldn't dress up too much. He did put on everyday wear for the first time in ages, though.

Bran spent most of the next few days after the battle recreating his notes, and only took breaks to eat and sleep. Compiling the information in a way that could be understood was going to be another matter entirely, one he had only begun working on by writing the foreword and writing an outline for what he wished to write.

That said... Bran didn't feel tired. And he got the sense he didn't look tired, either. He could ultimately only rest after he did that, at the very least, and the final battle had left him filled with energy. He had so much to do, but even knowing that he had his life's work ahead of him, he knew he had to relax. This lunch was part of that.

Yes, after this lunch he was ultimately going to take a nap, and then he would begin thinking about what he could study after he resumed work as an archaelogist. But the more pressing matter outside of his chronicle and his studies to continue in the far future was his work to advance the field of magic, and that was something he was not going to begin until later.

He had already given his request to become the Minister of Magic for Rosalia to General Toleann, and Castle Low's clerks were busily sorting through the paperwork to arrange for that. Russel was doing his part too, as during his tenure as general he would be working closely with Bran. He needed to use his magical talent to do something constructive. He'd look into what plans he could scrap together from his studies on the notes on magitech he recovered and what he could determine from magical artifacts he would later recover from dig sites. He would also use his knowledge to create new inventions. And while he worried that such tools he would create would ultimately be used to wage war, there was nothing he could do to prevent that. Militaries needed vehicles to transport soldiers and supplies and calculators to do logistics. And that was just two of the most obvious applications of his research. He would never create a weapon again, and he would never use one himself, but there was only so much he could do.

For now, he needed to meet with a good friend, one he hoped he could develop a very close relationship with. Bran knew it was silly to think such things of someone he had only known in battle and through one library visit, but he thought he might marry her someday. They had a connection that couldn't be defined in words. Perhaps it was the kind that could only be created in a life or death situation, but Bran gets the sense that even without that they would still be close. There was some unspeakable quality in the ways they were both similar and different. Bran admired her bravery and bonded with her over her cleverness. He hoped she felt the same way.

Either way, after putting on a loose-fitting dress shirt, trousers, dress shoes, and a button-up coat he borrowed from the castle's wardrobe, Bran went to meet Scarlett at the place and time they had arranged after the final battle, leaving the modest room Castle Low had set aside for guests from Regiment 1-31. He would sort through his new accomodations later. They would almost certainly lie elsewhere, but he could only worry himself over one thing at a time.

Time waited for no one, after all.

Silence, except the low murmuring of the doctor's coat as it blew in the wind. He'd stayed behind in the rubble, long after the rest had gone. Assurances had been given, attention to injuries paid, until the last concerned acquaintance had left him to sit on a slab of crumbled wall. He'd needed the silence, and the time.

The passage of time was something he'd grown to appreciate, with age. Maybe, if you ran from something for long enough, that was inevitable. Like a man who hadn't slept in many nights, Eliot had run from the march of the seasons, from the consistency of one hour melting into the next. And now, like that same man returning to his bed after countless days of wandering, he allowed himself to revel in what he'd missed. He watched as the sky darkened with evening, and he drew his coat a little tighter to keep the chill from his old bones. He counted the breaths in an hour. He allowed himself the great spiritual comfort of aging peacefully.

Eventually, he slept in the grass. He wasn't sure for how long, he only knew that the sky was still black when he opened his eyes again. He pulled himself to a sitting position, his head filled with the fog that always follows an unexpected slumber. With one foot still left in a dream, his racing mind transformed the black outlines of the ruined Castle High into the topography of an alien planet. The fantasy would have been incomplete had it not been occupied by an equally alien figure.

The doctor's bleary eyes focused on the shimmering, blinking outline of his younger self. The spectre was speaking, and he caught his half-whispered words in the middle of a sentence:

"....and each unfolds into so many branches, stretching out so far.... I can't see the end, but it feels like that's only for lack of effort. Somehow I feel like if I tried, I could just keep looking into infinity. Like if I reached out my hand, it would just keep stretching as far as I wanted it to go."

The mirage wasn't talking to the doctor, or to anyone in particular. He was simply speaking, because what he saw could not stay trapped inside his mind. All the while, his image was fading away.

"sailing on the surface of a sea as deep as it is wide, the expanse below unglimpsed. It's like we've just dunked our heads off the side of the boat. God. It's beautiful."

In the last moments before the ghost flickered out, the doctor saw an irritated expression pass over his face.

"Goddamnit. I'm a fucking mage, aren't I?"

When we last left our hero-!:

A standard unit of time had passed since the crumbling of Castle High, and it's hard to say how much had changed. Or maybe it's that it will pass, and much will change as of yet. In either case, seven days after the fall of Castle High, Severa sent a blessing back to the world that granted her peace and joy everlasting. With Ophelia's help, and Ragnus' approval, a rift was once more opened between their worlds, their dimensions, their timezones, and with magic and labor alike an inn was constructed as a place of divine worship, and most welcome rest. The Cleric's Watch is erected in the Rosalian countryside.

Those who enter find nary a soul besides the other residents of the moment, yet always they feel at peace, as if held in the loving embrace of a lover or kin or friend...or foe, if that's your disposition. Always do the entrants find themselves driven to a simple, honest night's work maintaining the place, and then a hard-earned night's sleep. Some, too, are given to prayer, that they might wake and keep these feelings - and if they are of the pious sort, they may find these feelings lasting long beyond their nights spent at the inn.

For the most part, passersby have no clue why this place was built, or how it got here; who cleaned the first sheets and stocked the first ale barrels; picked the first fruit and preserved it here; but some certain individuals who enter will recognize a specific tingling on their backs, and perhaps the feeling of a hand on their shoulders. They will know who put boot to ground, who put wood to saw, and will to magic to bring this magnificent inn to be.

They will know it was her.

The inn, known as the Cleric's Watch, has been abandoned for some time. Climbing down creaking stairs is a younger man, yet still a boy some would say, though his age belies his experience with combat and life both. Golden brown hair adorns his head, glimmering hazel eyes draw you to his face, and simple white and blue robes cover his body, patterned with orbiting suns and moons. The clink of metal sounds with each step as his armored boots land on the aging wood, and he stops a moment, taking in the scene of the lower floor from the stairwell.

Bottles, smashed on the floor. Windows equally smashed, flaring in and out in fractured teeth of wood and jagged saws of glass. The warm blessing of love and comfort is not gone, but it is very faint, as if hiding in fear of what has been done to the place. Shaking his head, the young man speaks. "Moms...you wanted more for these people...? I'll...I'll find it, then...I suppose I have to."

Walking the rest of the way down the stairs, the young man - Sol Steel, son of Severa Steel and Ophelia Winters - raises his hand. Blinding light fills the room, then shoots out, causing the mess to glow in several places. Raising his other hand, Sol snaps and points with two fingers at the first object he saw glow, tracing up and back to where it belongs - and miraculously, the object follows. Soon, another object lifts as he points, and another, and before long he's zipping each object back into place...within a half hour, the inn looks pristine. Old, but in mint condition. With a slamming clap, Sol brings the blinding yellow light in his right hand together with his left fist, and a ring of energy flies outwards.

"May her memory be a blessing upon this place." The old feeling of love and kindness disappears with a feeling like the release of a long-held breath. In its place is the warmth of a sunny day...and the foreboding sensation of a moonless night. The intent is clear from here to all who enter: kindness for the respectful. Darkness for the rest.

Sighing and deflating, Sol sags, then pulls himself together and exits the inn. It's a wide world, after all. A wide universe. There's other places that need his attention.

The general's chambers of Castle Low weren't too dissimilar from the old commander meeting room, though certainly on a larger scale. Around the head a long table of ancient oak sat Russel, Scarlett, Rosemary, and Toleann, with a video feed of Giada set up as well, who was still in Bertila.

Each of the commanders was giving their reports on how things had progressed since the fall of Castle High. Scarlett's immediate concern after the battle had been to re-establish an information network across the country, in case some other giant, existential monster decided it would be the perfect time to sweep in and wipe them all out. Her efforts in the days since had focused on turning Castle High's Reconnaissance Division into Castle Low's new Scarlet Blades (yes, she insisted on the name, and yes, anyone with a complaint could come say it to her face), ferrying intel from across the nation to Castle High.

...Alongside some psychological therapy, too. Rosemary had insisted on it for all the commanders after their time in Azure's control. Scarlett wasn't really sure how she felt about it, she was fine, she didn't need some know-it-all person telling her that yeah, her head was all over the place trying to figure out which thoughts were just hers. But she knew that was probably just her being difficult, so she kept showing up to the appointments. Maybe she'd start feeling like it was helping, eventually.

As she gave her report, Scarlett was dressed in her new commander's fatigues: a set of tight, black leather similar to her old uniform, but now embellished with lines and stripes of red. The insignia of Castle Low (a castle with a blade above it, pointed toward the sky) shimmered above her heart in golden relief, matching the gold details at her cuffs and the edges of her long, black plants.

Scarlett's eyes glanced to the large grandfather clock in the corner of the room--then back to her sheet of notes, "Let's see... next, we managed to get Siona in contact with the other leaders of the Aethon Sol and came to a peaceful understanding. They're not going to be fans of ours for a long time, but we don't think they pose any immediate threat to Rosalia."

"Good, I was hoping that would be the case," Russel nodded. He too was clad in his new general's uniform: a dark jacket with a chainmail mesh beneath, sunset orange stripes across the jacket's arms and the same insignia of Castle Low on its chest. The Blade of Castle Low rested on the side of his chair--Russel hadn't let the artifact out of his sight since Castle High fell. He continued, "the Aethon Sol's policy with mages makes them... a bit tricky to work with, but for now, I'm happy to stick with peace."

Scarlett gave a quick nod back, continuing, "then, uh... right, we've been able to contract more assistance from nearby carpenters and engineers to help with rebuilding the castle town. Residential areas should start construction by the end of the week."

Giada chimed in, "Selvenade and I have been talking about getting some Bertilan engineers to come down and help with reconstruction too." She shrugged, "things are still iffy with the Bertilan politicians about all this, but I think we might be able to get somewhere with it."

Another nod from Russel, his expression turning more somber, "good, I still want that to be our top priority. The citizens of Low's Castle Town have been through so much, and no one gave them the chance to leave if they didn't want to be involved. I'll make sure to follow up with those carpenters, we need to keep that on time."

Scarlett's eyes flicked to the clock again as she sighed--but quickly returned to her report, "the Rosalian mages have been transitioning back to their homes across the country. We think--"

"Uh, sorry, Scarlett?" Russel interrupted.

She looked up from her notes, frowning. "What? Something wrong?"

"No no, I just..." he hesitated, eyes focused on her, "...you seem a bit distracted." He glanced over to the clock, "is there something you need to go do?"

Rosemary gasped, "wait, Scarlett, isn't it only an hour until your date with--"

"AHEM," Scarlett cleared her throat, glaring at Rosemary. "Like I was saying, we think the mages might need some support integrating with their communities again--"

"Wait, you have a date!?" Russel's eyes go wide. "What!? Since when!? You never told me that!"

Sparks of anger ignited in Scarlett's eyes as she glowered at Russel, "if I need permission from my 'general' to have a personal life, you're going to need to find a new Head of Intelligence."

"N-no, I didn't mean it like that!" Russel waves his arms, "I just mean... y'know, as your brother--"

"You especially are not entitled to know about my personal life."

"Urgh, no, I just mean..." Russel sighs, "...nevermind. But if you do have a date, go on, get going!"

Scarlett tapped her foot impatiently, "am I the only person here with a fraction of professionality? It's fine, whatever, I'll, figure it out. This is important--"

"And you're important too," Rosemary reminds her, getting up from her seat and walking to Scarlett. Without asking or giving warning, she swipes the papers from Scarlett's hands, smiling at her. "I can read a piece of paper just fine in your steed."

"But--"

"Speaking as your General," Russel smiles, "I hereby dismiss you from today's meeting early. You and I can meet up later to discuss anything we can't gather from your notes. Maintaining the work-life balance of my commanders is an important part of managing this country." He waits a moment, then asks, "is that professional enough?"

Scarlett moves forward as if to retort once more... but then lets her shoulder sag, sighing with a smile. "...Fine, fine. I appreciate it, everyone. I'll catch up with you all later."

"Yup, we'll see you later," Rosemary waves, giving her a little push toward the door before she can change her mind.
"Have fun!" Giada calls.
"Wait a second, who is it even with!?" Russel asks from his seat, receiving no response whatsoever as his sister left.

Toleann put a hand to his temple as he silently watched from the corner of the room. Russel's style of leadership was certainly... different, from his own. He can't recall ever asking his subordinates about their dates. But still, something new wasn't necessarily bad, and it was very clear how he earned the loyalty of his soldiers.

He smiled, shaking his head. He wasn't quite sure what Rosalia's future might look like, but it would certainly be interesting.

Of course, there hadn't exactly been too many options as to where they could grab lunch. Neither Scarlett nor Bran had the free time to trek out to some other town nearby and find a restraunt, and most of the cooks and chefs of Castle Low's town were focused on feeding and taking care of the large numbers of currently-homeless citizens. Given their current status as the town's heroes, it's possible they still could have asked for a lunch service, but neither wanted to add undue pressure to those already under plenty. Instead, Scarlett had simply asked Bran to meet her on Castle Low's southern balcony.

The day before, Rosemary had helped Scarlett prepare their lunch using Castle Low's kitchen and pantry. Scarlett knew enough cooking to get by, making some well-seasoned mashed potatoes and oven-roasted chicken, but she'd wanted something a bit more special for the occasion. Rosie had been a lifesaver there, sharing her recipe for homemade cinammon apple pie with a beautifully flakey crust. With their meal packed neatly in a box under her arm (she would have used a picnic basket or something nicer if she hadn't forgot about it until half an hour ago), she headed out for their meeting place.

Walking through Castle Low's halls, staircases, and balconies, she finally made her way to the destination--and immediately felt an excitement at seeing Bran there, waiting for her.

Scarlett's outfit was one Bran had never seen on her: it wasn't the tight leather of her reconnaissance uniform, nor even the casual shirts and pants he might have noticed her in when off-duty. Instead, Scarlett today wore a summery, coral pink dress, along with a straw hat with matching pink ribbon. The dress' design was fairly simple, featuring perforated 'v's across her chest, some extra cloth at the shoulders, and no sleeves. Though they had healed substantially, the faint lines of her lightning-bolt scars were still visible along her exposed arms and legs (the dress ending just above her knees). On her feet, she wore black heels, making slight 'clicks' with each step.

"Hey!" She greeted, jogging to close the last few paces to reach Bran's side. "Nice to see you!" She scanned over him, "and nice to see you out of your robes for once. You look nice."

"Well, I kept my word," she raised the box with a smirk, "lunch is on me! And uh, thanks for meeting me up here." She shook her head, "I know it's kinda dumb, but I figured we could use a nice view, right?" She nodded her head out over the balcony, where the lush, green countryside rolled into the horizon. It was the only spot in the castle she could find where you couldn't see the scars of battle. She figured that would be important for Bran.

Scarlett took a seat on the balcony, pulling the dishes of mashed potatoes and chicken from the box, along with the apple pie for later. "For the record Bran, if you need any help gathering accounts or information for the chronicle, just let me know. Getting an accurate retelling of Castle High's events is something pretty vital to have, so I'd be happy to put some agents on grabbing extra intel for it."

...Jeez, talking about work right off the bat? She was more out of practice with this than she thought.

She served herself a plate of lunch, ready to start... but before she could, a nagging thought pressed in her mind. She'd just asked Bran to lunch, but she was concerned he might think that was all she intended. Bran was a pretty sharp guy, but still...

Lightly, Scarlett placed one of her hands onto his, "and Bran, um... I never really got a good chance to tell you this, with the chaos of the battle and all, but... thank you. For pulling me out of that hell Azure had me trapped in." Her smile renewed, "you were like a light, showing me which way to go to get out of the haze. I'm not sure what would have happened if it weren't for you."

...Urgh, this was stupid. Why was she nervous? Just talk dumbass, it's not that hard!

"What I mean is just that, you're really special," she felt heat rising to her cheeks. "The last couple days, I kept thinking about when you and I were facing off with Azure, countering his spell on Castle High. And standing there, against that bastard, next to you... it felt right." She laughed nervously, "sorry if that sounds weird or something. I know we didn't get many chances to talk or hang out during Castle High's campaign, with us both being busy. But... I really enjoyed those times we did, especially together at the library. Being somewhere peaceful with you, getting to talk about interesting things... yeah, really nice."

She let out a breath--felt good to at least get it all out of her head. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, thanks for meeting me for this... and, if you want to meet up more after this," she smiles, the brim of her hat casting a shadow on the side of her face, "I'd really like that too."

"But for now, dig in!" She gave a little bow from her seated position, "I made the potatoes and chicken, you're welcome. Heh, I always joke with Russel that I stole his cooking genes, 'cause let me tell you, that moron would burn a glass of milk..."

As Bran met Scarlett on the southern balcony, he couldn't help but feel a little underdressed. He wasn't really quite sure what he'd wear, but Scarlett looked so beautiful in that dress he was taken aback slightly by Scarlett's comment that he looked "nice."

Bran replied, "I hope you're not just saying that," before laughing nervously. That said, he was smiling. "It's nice to see you too."

As Scarlett invited to Bran to look over the balcony, he couldn't help but agree. It was such a refreshing change of pace to see unscarred plains. It reminded Bran that while nearly the entire world had been destroyed, it survived. All in one piece, in fact, although parts had been burned and frayed.

Bran brushed Scarlett's offer to do additional research aside. "Oh, don't mention it," he said. "I'll always be happy to work with you."

Bran couldn't help but feel a bit awkward that that was the only thing he could say, as well. He got the sense that if anyone was watching right now they would probably laugh and tell them to get straight to the point.

After serving himself a plate, once Scarlett told Bran how she felt about how he got her out of the stupor she was in earlier, his expression stiffened. He didn't like to pat himself on the back and say he did a good job. It was the best thing he could do, he'd imagine, and anyone in the same circumstances who was capable of it wouldn't do anything less.

At the same time, though, Bran was aware that was not true. So, there was only one thing he could really say. "Thank you," he replied.

Then he realized that she wasn't done yet, and what she had to say next put butterflies in his stomach.

"Words cannot describe how happy I am to hear that you feel the same way." Bran said. "Now that the war is over, I think it only serves us right to take this time to get to know each other."

As Bran began eating, he came to a swift conclusion. Yes, this is going to work out just fine.

Eliot plunged his soot-covered hands below the faucet in Giada's workshop, casting one more look of pride at the contraption in the center of the room. The shining creation had taken the better part of two years to complete, with the blueprints alone taking six months to draft up. Eliot was a savvy technician, but he'd never worked on anything larger than a toaster before; Giada's assistance had been invaluable, and one of two reasons he'd chosen to accompany her to Bertila. The other reason was that he figured assisting her with her own plans (and paying for her bar tab) would go a long way towards atoning for accidentally shooting her that one time.

It had been a _good year_. One of the best in a long time. He'd set up a little medical practice to fill his daytime hours and spent his evenings tinkering in the workshop. The people of Bertila had warmed to him with time, and his instincts had been right about Giada - she was a first-rate friend. He'd even started going by Eliot again, though many of his patients still referred to him as Doc. But in a strange way, that suited him just fine. The name Doc Morgan was no longer a penance - now it was a title, Doctor, an appellation he finally felt he had earned. And whenever he locked up his clinic in the evening and started the twilit walk to his humble flat, mind turning over his latest breakthrough in time-travel technology, he felt that his life as Eliot Fairbanks and his life as Doc Morgan had finally reached a satisfying synthesis.

That had never been quite as true as it was now, as he stared at his completed masterpiece. A bit derivative, maybe. Indulgent, definitely. But no one could deny its style.

Eliot grabbed a towel to dry his hands and sank into a chair at his desk in the corner. He threw the towel over his shoulder, dipped his pen, and began to compose the first of two letters.

To Candice and Arthur:

To Nathalia:

There, sealed and stamped. If he left now, he figured the post office would still be open - Bertila's efficient postal service was something he'd come to appreciate greatly. He'd slip these in the mail, then extend the same invitation to Giada when he saw her tomorrow morning. With any luck, at least one of them would be interested in hearing him out.

He reached out a hand and closed the folder lying open on his desk. It contained incident reports, eyewitness interviews, grainy photographs. A few were clear enough to make out a huge, armored titan of a man, or a woman with cat ears poking up from below a hood. Or, in one photograph at a bridge opening in 1941, a woman in a decidedly anachronistic tricorn.

Eliot grinned. For the first time in a long time, the future was full of hope.

Knock knock knock.

"Y-yes? You can come in."

Candice looked up from her desk to see Rosemary slowly push the door open, giving her a small, hesitant wave. "Sorry, is this a bad time? It can wait."

Candice sat up straight, running a hand through her disheveled hair as she tried to make herself a bit more presentable, "no no, you're fine Rosemary, please, come in." She nodded toward the papers strewn across her disorderly desk, "I was just filling out some more Citizen Recompense Forms."

Rosemary frowned slightly, "those are actually why I wanted to stop by. A few more citizens stopped by this morning saying they didn't receive the right form--"

Candice interrupted her with a frustrated sigh, drumming her fingers along the desk, "fine, yes, I understand and apologize. Just, leave them with the others--" she pointed to a misshapen stack of papers next to a paper label reading 'REDO', "--and I'll get back to them."

Rosemary gave her a sympathetic look, "Candice, this is the third time some of these people have returned."

"And I apologize, what else is there to say!?" Candice retorted with an edge, errant strands of hair falling in front of her face granting her a chaotic visage. "Pardon my bluntness, but considering the sheer volume of forms that cross my desk--veteran affairs, citizen diplomacy, logistical materials, reconnaissance reports--I think my error rate is quite acceptable!" She returned her eyes to the form currently in front of her, focusing back on her work as she concluded, "if Commander Scarlett or General Russel have a complaint, they can contact me directly! Otherwise, I should really--"

"Candice," Rosemary stopped her, a soft hand pressed onto the secretary's shoulder, "please, listen. I didn't come here to place a complaint."

Rosemary's gentle words continued as Candice's tension began to slowly recess, "I'm worried about you. Most of the others have been taking time to rest, or have fun, or just, go outside the castle's walls. Have you left this room at all in the last week, besides for meals and therapy?"

Candice let out a slow, dull breath, "I suppose I have not. But still..."

"Your not socializing, your work is slipping..." Rosemary winced. "Have you told your therapist about what happened? With Arthur?"

"What is there to say?" Candice replied in a quieter tone, turning in her chair to look out her window. "Arthur's... up there now. Spreading his will out to everyone, to the far reaches of the Expanse." Another breath, looking back down to her papers. "He is doing something incredible. Using my pendant to give so many people better lives. He's found a new role for himself, and so should I with this paperwork."

A sniffle, "I'm fine--happy, in fact, really. Arthur wanted so long to be someone to help others, to touch them as he was once touched, and found it hard to do so. And now he's finally able."

She pressed a hand to her face, wiping at her eyes, "w-why would I be so selfish as to want him to leave all that, just to keep me company? I'm not so pathetic as that. He may have s-said something before the final battle, but how could he know what would occur? N-no, he's not beholden to some midnight fantasy, when he has something so much more. I just..." she brought her hands back down to the desk, eyes red as she took her pen once more, "I just need to focus on something to do. I assure you, just--" another wipe at her eyes with her sleeve, "--just a few more days and I-I'll be good as new."

Rosemary frowned sadly, stepping back, "if that's how you feel, I won't push you." As the doctor turned and reached the door, however, she stopped, hand resting on the knob. "That said... I didn't know Arthur as well as you did, Candice, but... if he did make some kind of plan or promise to you... do you really think he would just forget it entirely?"

Rosemary left, shutting the door behind her and leaving Candice alone with her thoughts.

Slowly, Candice turned once more to face out the window. To gaze up, up, into the sky, where she knew the crimson star would appear once the sun set.  She smirked, shaking her head, "I bet if you were here right now, you'd be chastising me, wouldn't you? Stuck behind this desk, trying to just... forget."

She glances away, a pang of shame. "I'm pathetic, aren't I? You're up there, living a life I'm sure you're so happy with..." she glances back at her papers, "and here I am, throwing myself into work." A light snicker, "and bad work at that, apparently."

"I just..." she struggled, trying to piece together the thought, "...I truly hoped that, when this was all over, you would be by my side." Her memory began to return to a painful place, "when I was in the depths of Azure's magic, I could feel myself coming apart. Could feel the person I was disappearing, replaced, and felt the terrifying sensation of being glad it was occurring. When you pulled me from that nightmare... when you looked at me with your wonderful eyes, and I just knew, it was all going to be alright..."

She felt herself shaking, and wrapped one of her arms around the other, "I just can't truly accept I'll never be able to see them again. For the person who saved me from that darkness to just disappear, and to suddenly live without them. I know my time with Russel and the others is at its end, but I've just felt there's nowhere else to go. No, plan or place that feels correct... without you. And though I may hope that, somehow, maybe you'll return, such a thought does nothing for me in the here and now, doesn't truly help the hurt..."

A thought clicked in her mind. She closed her eyes, taking a breath.

"But you dealt with it, didn't you, Arthur? When he disappeared. You carried his memory and continued to live. Forged a new path."

She felt something stirring. A reserve of will, deep in her chest.

"Perhaps... I just need to embrace such a path myself. That promise we made, to roam the world, and see its natural beauty..." a smile came to her lips, "what was that place you mentioned? The clean spring with pebbles at the bottom that turned odd colors? Lachelein Mountain?"

"Even if it's not in the way I wished..." she took another breath, dropping her eyes from the sky to the rolling world below, "perhaps... my path forward can begin there. It's not much, but... I suppose it's something, isn't it?" She felt an energy returning, one she hadn't brought to bear since Castle High's final battle. "Yes... yes, I was right before. I'm not so pathetic as this! I battled a monster who shattered the sky and touched the edge of reality, I won't just, sit here in self-pity!"

She bolted up from her desk, "Arthur, if you've gone and found the happiness you've wished for, so shall I! I'll swim in fresh water, a-and explore this country I nearly died for, just as I imagined I would!" She felt a bit lightheaded, but in a good way. Probably. "And without you here to dissuade me from such a 'tough journey', I'll head straight to Lachelein Mountain myself! Just like in the books I read as a child!"

Feeling a sudden disregard for the mindless papers in front of her, Candice headed straight for the door of her office--if she was going to leave, she'd need to make some preparations and plans. Just the thought of something so different was exhilarating...

...But before she left, she turned one last glance up toward the sky.

"And Arthur... if you can hear me, wherever you are, I believe Rosemary had a good point." She smiled--it suddenly felt much easier to do, "you gave me your word, didn't you? That you would protect me wherever I go, wherever ignited my spirit?"

"Even if you're up there... you'll still watch out for me, won't you?"

"Heeeeeey all you party people! This is Kelly "Hurricane", comin' to you live on manawave frequency one-two-one from Nightdeaf Station! That last song was "Walls of Singing Silence", by Ormen and the Swallows! I sure do hope all of you are having a wonderful Day of Clear Skies--glad the weather held up, haha! In just a few minutes, we'll be letting you listen in on General Russel's speech, commemerating the heroism that saved our country a little more than a year ago. And hey, if you're over by Castle Low, keep an eye out for our own Geller "The Shredder", joining many of the other veterans in celebrating the occasion!

Buuuut before all that, I think we got time for one last song, don't you? We've got the latest hit single from the famous Erika! Let's take a listen to--"

"Ugh, could someone turn that infernal thing down!?" Lyse growled at the bartender. She used her imposing size to her advantage, casting the barkeep a hard glare.

Candice sighed, covering part of her face with a hand, "could you please not make a scene? I would rather we not get thrown out..."

The two women sat at a hard, wooden bar, seated in front of a stained, dirty window. Outside, some children were playing a game with sticks and a ball, enjoying the warm summer afternoon. Back inside the establishment, the bartender returned Lyse's scowl with one of his own. He had kept an eye on the pair of dangerous-looking women since they'd arrived a few minutes prior. Such a thing wasn't difficult, given the bar was rather empty at the moment--understandably so, considering the parade would be just a few blocks down. Though he considered ignoring the rude request, the dangerous weapons the two had seated by their chairs made him decide it probably wasn't worth the trouble. Still allowing himself to grumble with anger, he turned down his manawave relayer a few notches.

Both of the women at the bar looked a bit rough around the edges. Though Candice had only been out in the world for a year, the weeks of journeying and foraging had lead to a number of changes in her appearance. Her wavy dark hair was now cut short, barely falling past her ears, and she was garbed head-to-tail in worn, stained traveller's gear. By her feet sat a thin bow and quiver, which had served as dependable weapons and hunting tools while on her journeys. Even after the spiritual presence left her after Castle High's final battle, she'd retained some skill with bows, and it'd served her well. The fine scales at her knuckles and the insides of her hands were rough and flakey, broken and shed by the work she'd been doing with her hands to pitch shelters and climb terrain. Her previously unnotable physique had even begun to change, her body having gained muscle and strength she'd otherwise lacked during her time behind a desk. Her light green eyes, intelligent and sharp as ever, followed the paths of passerby as she waited for her guest to settle down.

Beside her sat Lyse, a woman she'd never thought she'd see again--and certainly not sit beside. The last Candice had seen her was at the battle against the Cathedral of the Aethon Sol. There, Lyse had lost an arm by Arthur's hand, crawling away with his blade and a killing look in her eye. She too, looked quite different than she had the year prior. Besides the obvious lack of her right arm, Lyse no longer carried that air of arrogance she'd reeked of at the battle with Aethon Sol. The animalistic bloodlust she'd shown... if the woman still carried it, Candice at least saw no sign. Candice had been a bit hesitant to accept her request to meet, but... eh, what was the worst she could really do, anyway? She was a bit too curious not to see what she might want.

"Honestly, using magic for music? Such a thing is downright revolting," Lyse said, loud enough to be sure the bartender could hear her.

Candice idly drummed her fingers on the bar-counter, bored, "you may want to get used to them. They're already in most towns north of here." She turned to look at Lyse more closely, raising an eyebrow. "Is that an issue?" she asked, a touch more serious.

Lyse took a long breath, in through her nose, then released it slowly through her mouth. She seemed to just now notice how tightly she was holding her glass of beer--she released the grip, balling her hand up and placing it in her lap. "No. No, that's... whatever," she dismissed. "It's different now. I'm, different now. Though I will say there's a reason I don't usually head too far from the monestary. Abuse of magic is still abuse of magic..."

"Monestary?" Candice questioned. "So you're still with the Aethon Sol, then?"

Lyse's expression darkened a bit, casting her eyes low. She was silent a few seconds, before quietly responding, "...no. Siona asked me to, but... I can't go back there."

Candice waited a few moments, assuming Lyse had more to say. When no more came, however, she simply replied, "I see. Then, you've found another god?"

"It's more of a spiritual thing, actually," Lyse clarified, eyes fixed outside. That darker air swiftly cleared, as her gaze drifted afar. "The Dragoons, if you've ever heard of them. They don't worship any particular diety, but promote a respect for all life, large and small. The importance of respecting the mysteries which are greater than us, and finding peace in the world as it is, not as we think it should be."

"Really?" Candice blinked, trying to put together her heroic vision of a Dragoon (that was to say, Nathalia) with the feral monster she'd only ever known Lyse as.

"It's funny, actually," Lyse laughed lightly, "after the battle with Castle High, I felt like I'd lost... everything. My god. My family. My arm. All I could think of was anger, and rage. I was like some... wounded predator, fixated on the meal that got away. Tracking down that man and making him pay. But soon I began to become... tired, of it." She shook her head, "it was just so much effort, pushing and clawing, chasing a flying castle, finding whatever advantage I possibly could. And I like to think that even then, I was... humbled by it all." She hesitated a moment, adding, "made to realize that... there might have been a reason, for my fall from grace."

Her eyes traced the rim of her cup, "in the quieter moments, I felt her again: Iros. And with her gaze came compassion. It was her support that led me to seeking out the Dragoons. At the time, I insisted it was to become strong enough to defeat Arthur, to reclaim my place as a righteous killer, but... soon, I realized it was to face what I was, and what I could be." Another shrug, "I'm still not really sure where I'm going, but I'm at least trying. I mean, dragons are stronger than any other creature, but even they show mercy and restraint. That sort of thing feels... right. I know that, at least."

She rolled her good shoulder, "the training is difficult, but the masters are very understanding with me, especially given my missing arm. They say they had been hoping to find a new acolyte, so... I suppose these things sometimes work out for everyone. Guess I just... hope I can be someone better than I was before."

"I..." Candice trailed off. She couldn't think of anything to say that conveyed her feelings more than, "...wow."

"Well, I'm not just telling you to earn some sympathy points," Lyse said, rotating to face Candice directly. "Part of this journey of mine is to make amends, where I can. I heard you were travelling nearby, and, well..."

Candice smiled, feeling just a bit awkward, "oh, you wanted to make amends with me? I'm touched, really--"

"--Umm, Arthur, actually," Lyse winced. "I was hoping you might know where Arthur was."

Candice's smile fell, "ah, right, of course."

"I apologize to you as well!" Lyse added quickly, "truly! If I can make amends with you as well, such would be great! But, considering... well, everything, I was most hoping to see Arthur again, and... find some closure between us."

"No no, it's fine, I wasn't--no need for amends with me," Candice said, pressing a hand to her cheek. She braced herself for opening this old wound once more, "my reaction was simply because Arthur is... gone."

"Oh," Lyse said, limply. "I apologize. I had no idea."

"Not dead, mind you," Candice sighed, "simply... gone. Somewhere else. Has been ever since the fall of Castle High."

"The fall of Castle... wait a moment..." Lyse craned her neck out the window, glancing skyward. "...That red star at night?"

Candice nodded, "that's him. A shining will, for those in this world and likely many others."

"That's... unfortunate," Lyse's face fell. "I had hoped I might... at least be able to tell him I forgave him for everything. Maybe have a more honorable duel, to set things straight."

"You can still tell him you forgive him. Well, I at least think you can," Candice said, her own eyes casting up toward the sky. "I admit I don't have any good reason to think so, but... I still believe he can hear us, down here. Me, and if you tried, likely you as well."

"I recall you two being close," Lyse said, her tone shifting. "I can empathize with losing those close unexpectedly." She lifted her pitcher of beer to Candice, "my condolences."

"It was... difficult, at first," Candice admitted, leaning back in her stool as she let herself recall. "I used to talk up to that star every night as I travelled. Cursed it even, when I failed to make a fire and slept in the cold, or twisted something climbing a ridge. Yelled at him for leaving when he said he'd share his future with me. But one day, I climbed a tough mountain, far out in the wild. Travelled through winding mountain trails and dense forests. Took me two weeks of travelling, and I wasn't sure I'd last one. But when I finally reached the clearing he'd told me about, and saw the shimmering clear water, and the little odd pebbles along the bottom... I think some foolish part of me thought that maybe I'd find him there, just, laying in a field of flowers or something. But when I saw there was no one... realized it was just me, alone, on that mountain... I finally accepted he was really gone. Heh, cried my eyes out."

Candice took her own swig of beer, covering her mouth to quell a burp, "but that was many months ago. And since then, I must say that I've... made my own peace with him." She managed a smile, "I cherish the time we had together. As short as it was, it gave me so much." She placed a hand to her chest, "a newfound strength of heart. The confidence to trust myself again. A desire and love for the world itself that I'd never noticed. And the place within me to make true bounds once more." She smiled, "in fact, after I stop here I'm heading off to see some old friends, Bran and Scarlett. I'm sure he'll come up in talking to them, too."

Lyse smiled herself, giving the veteran a pat on the shoulder, "it sounds as if we've both found our own peace, after all the bloodshed. And it seems I still can with Arthur myself by just looking up to the sky. Though I must ask: could he not return some day?"

Candice shook her head, smile fading a fraction, "I think if he'd intended to do that, he'd have returned by now. And I doubt he'd be very happy with me if I spent the rest of my life wishing for him to fall back to earth," she snickered. "No, I think Arthur is right where he needs to be. I wish I could have known him longer, but those feelings and memories I felt... I'll always have them. After all, Arthur taught me that even if you lose someone you love, you're still the better for having known them, and their impact upon you no less real." She nodded, "I'll never forget him, and at least in a small way, he'll always be with me."

"I'll give cheers to that," Lyse grinned.

Lyse raised her mug, which Candice struck with her own, both taking a long swig--

Which was interrupted by a buzzing whine from Candice's bag. Eyes wide, she placed her drink on the bar and rummaged through her things--pushing aside rations, a few maps, some emergency runes--and found the source to be something odd.

She pulled out the sealed letter Arthur had left her more than a year ago. It was a bit of a sore point for her in all honesty: it was written in a language she didn't recognize, likely regional to Arthur's hometown, and she'd never gotten it translated. A lack of time and energy, she had always told herself, but perhaps... a stone she'd never quite had the courage to overturn.

It wasn't the letter itself that the strange sound was coming from, however--instead, it originated from the token that had been sealed with the letter. Small, wooden, in the likeness of a dragon. As she lifted the bauble up, an old voice crackled through the air, though not the one she expected to hear.

"17 kilometers south of Fiaba. A field of yellow flowers. Just before sunrise. Twelve days from now."

"Zaffre?" Candice replied, bewildered, to the trinket. "How are you--what are you--"

"You asked for my help finding him last spring didn't you!? Or am I so unimportant you forgot!?"

"N-no, it's not that--I just--"

"Silence! Save your petty excuses, just, go! If you leave tonight you can make it. I think it would be for the best if you were there when he arrived."

---

Candice felt like her heart was beating out of her chest as she anxiously checked the sun's position once more--what exactly did he even mean by "just before sunrise"?? Could he not have given her something more specific?

She was seated on a small orange tarp, at the top of a hill overlooking golden flowers. The blooming buds were streaked by intermittent breezes of warm summer wind, filling the air with the smell of pollen and floral fragarence, accompanied by the chirp of cicadas. She checked the basket by her side for the sixteenth time: the best alcohol she could find, a few carefully wrapped pieces of fresh-baked bread, and a bit of toffee she'd managed to beg a kind merchant for at the last town.

Should she have gotten some meat? She probably should have gotten some meat. Ugh, of course! He'd been gone for over a year, he'd probably want something more substantial than some bread and spirits! Could she go get some now? If she used her time magic, she might be able to make it back. It wasn't as strong these days without her medallion, but still, she could... no, no, it'd be even worse if she missed him!

Speaking of which, how was this even going to work?? She'd seen and felt the temporal energy around him as he'd risen, a chasm of time growing between them. Though it'd been over a dozen months for her, she could only assume it'd been much longer for him. Perhaps much, much longer. If he really was coming back, would he even still be... Arthur? After everything he had done up there? How could anyone be the same after all that?

...Would he even still, care about her? Looking out across countless worlds, inspiring will in others... how much could any one person mean against the backdrop of all that? Though her first thoughts were of him coming back to her, perhaps he'd simply spent all he could in the sky, and would want to be left alone upon his return.

And for that matter, she had changed since they'd last seen each other. When they'd last spoken, she was an anxious, worried, overly polite desk fairy. She'd been in at least three too many shouting matches with rude innkeepers to really feel that sort of persona entirely fit anymore. And if she was being honest with herself... she, probably wasn't as nice to look at these days as back then. Even if she'd made sure to wash herself thoroughly, the best clothes she had were still stained (she'd discarded her suit jackets long ago), and while she was satisfied with her short-haired look (she liked to think it was cute), at this particular moment she felt vulnerable without her long, wavy hair. Maybe she should wear a hat? They always chaffed at the scales on her neck, but maybe it would at least help?

...Goodness, it'd been a while since her thoughts felt as frayed as this. The fact Arthur still had that affect on her brought a familiar grin to her face.

Arthur... even now, she could remember those warm, red eyes of his, clear as day yet deeper than the sky, looking at her, pulling her from her broken thoughts. Telling her that he wanted to keep growing with her, in the future she wished for. That stupid, cute look on his face as he kissed her out of Azure's control. How soaring she felt in that moment, she and him beside each other, changing the world, nothing able to stop them.

She let out a long, slow breath. It'd been so long since then. So long since she'd thought that might be the first kiss of many, that evening in his arms just the preamble to something altogether new and wonderful. So long since she'd moved past the disappointment of recognizing it would never really be. It felt... dangerous, to hope for that again. Like returning to a pit one fell in before, hoping this time for it to be filled. In spite of his absence, she'd found her own joy and life to experience. Travelling the countryside was exhilerating: doing odd-jobs for money, exploring all the beautiful sights of this country, and putting bullies and villains in their place in towns as she passed through. It was fulfilling, and she'd made sure to keep up with the other veterans, giving her good company of a sort.

Yet even after all that, she could remember those eyes. She'd never forgotten them. All this time, that dream she shared with him... she still carried it with her, like an old keepsake.

Was that enough, though? Was she really ready to walk this path again? And could it ever really--

"Wait--Arthur!? Arthur!"

Candice gasped aloud, as she suddenly saw him. Him, Arthur, right there! His eyes shut, garbed the same as the day he left, lying among the flowers, her medallion just visible upon his wide chest.

"Arthur!" She called again, forgetting her basket as she ran down the hill toward him, the gold of the flowers and the morning sky mixing as tears swiftly clouded her vision. With each step, more of that worry and fear fell away, replaced by simpler feelings. Joy, and laughter, and happiness, and her heart feeling so full it might just burst from her chest. She... she really thought she'd never see him again! Never! But there he was, healthy and whole!

She pushed aside the flowers, sending petals to the wind in her wake as she ran, sprinted across the yellow field. Until finally, after too long, far too long, she finally reached his side. His eyes were shut, a serene calm surrounding him, filling the whole space around them. As he always did she swiftly remembered, that calming, full feeling he created just by existing somewhere. She let out a choked sob of happiness, seeing him here, right here in front of her, close enough to touch once again. And laying there, among the golden flowers, at such peace... she could scarcely recall seeing someone so beautiful.

Her mind was made in a moment: every joy she'd found in her new life would be made better just by having him be a part of it. His smile, and his laugh, and his heart, everything.

Slowly, not wanting to disturb him, she pulled herself down, laying on her side beside him. Then, taking an easy breath, she placed her head on his chest, just below her medallion, staring up at his windswept face.

If they laid like that another minute, or two, or thirty, or a hundred, she would not have noticed. Time around them lost its power, as in this place, the world was only Candice, Arthur, and the field of gold around them.

But when he did open his eyes, and she saw them--those very same eyes, clear as day yet deeper than the sky--there'd be no question in her heart that he was still there. The man she'd dreamed of exploring life together with had kept his promise after all.

And the love she'd never lost for him would bloom, bloom like flowers in the warmth of summer's purest light.





And for the first time in far too long,




She would dream of everything.

Nathalia trudged up the hill. It was fairly steep, but it was no significant obstacle for the dragoon. She honestly could have jumped up the hill, but she was still recovering from the battle-- she had been taken care of physically, for the most part, although the lightning strike still had some remaining effects… With proper care, the healers said that she would make a full recovery. But perhaps most of all, it was a little refreshing to just walk. Just like the old days, before she had ever met the Dragoons. As Nathalia crested the hill, she looked over the town. It seemed as though there had been a few more buildings built while she had been away. It had been quite a while. Regardless, the house she was looking for was still easily located, a humble wooden home, with a sign on the front, which simply read ‘Cobbler’. There was still a garden out front, with heads of lettuce and cauliflower looking just about grown. At this sight, Nathalia became more energetic, moving more quickly. She avoided the busier avenues near the town market square, so as to avoid talking with people. There were a few kids in town that considered themselves her ‘fans’, and would surely stop her in her tracks for quite a while if they could. Still, there were a few familiar faces she encountered on the way home, so she gave a quick waving motion as a greeting while rushing past. None bothered trying to stop her, perhaps the intense look in her eyes warned them against it.
Finally, she arrived at the door to the cobbling shop, knocking as she entered. She heard a slightly raspy voice call out from another room, “Ah, excuse me, I’ll be right there!”
Nathalia didn’t bother saying anything until her father entered the room. The older man, with graying hair atop a bearded head, over a body that was bulky enough to have a past of labor, but was clearly no longer engaged in such, entered through a door into the front room, where a desk and various shoe repair and creation tools were present. “I’m sorry I took so long, I’m not as young as I used to be--” The older man cut himself off suddenly when he recognized the figure standing near the doorway. His eyes became wet with tears, and he rushed in towards Nathalia, embracing her in a hug. Nathalia took a second, but hugged her father. “It’s good to see you, Dad.”

Nathalia read over the letter again. An invitation from Doc Morgan, to help him with a ‘job’. Nathalia hasn't heard from him in a long time, but she couldn't forget the times he had saved her. Especially the time with the lightning strike... If he weren't there... She'd definitely be a lot worse off. She might not even have been able to walk again. But thanks to the good doctor, she was fine. It was definitely a debt that would be right to repay. Given that the doctor had been confirmed to be a time traveler, (she thought), finding some friends wasn’t going to be as simple as it seemed. However, it would be a nice change of pace… Nathalia currently was acting as an instructor in combat training at the Dragoon Monastery. The Dragoon Masters had expressed their disapproval of her abandonment of her training several years ago, when she went on adventuring, which ultimately led to her experiences with Castle High, but they admitted that it might have been for the best in the end. There was a promising acolyte in training, Lyse, who was one of the Knights of the Aetheon Sol that Castle High fought. Lyse lost her arm in that fight, but had adapted quite well since then. She'd apparently found some more peace since joining the Dragoons. Nathalia was never too great at the more spiritual side of the Dragoon training, and so wasn't involved at all with that part of training, so she couldn't say that she really helped Lyse much, but it was nice to see her doing well.
Anyway, back to the letter. It definitely piqued Nathalia's interest. Since the Dragoon Masters were upset last time she left without notice, it would probably be best to tell them. But where's the fun in that? They might want her to stay and keep on instructing, say that they really need her. She'd have to think about it. A home cooked meal was always a good thing. And she could always say no. Although she knew that she probably wouldn't. It wasn't too often that you could go on an epic adventure, and Nathalia was not going to let that go to waste.