Holden Cross, laying on the floor, head bare of his helmet- ground out the next word like it pained him.

"Peace."

Stigandr growled, the tip of the sword he held in his rough, calloused hands drifting closer and closer to Cross' throat. The Lawbringer himself seemed unafraid, eyes fixed and unwavering on the Viking Jarl's own, making no move to defend himself. The flickering of the flames from the braziers casted long shadows, and Ichi did nothing but watch, more than slightly irritated at the "Lord Warden", for not appearing in person. Impassively, she tilted her head slightly to look at Stigandr. She would not stop the Viking. Samurai understood revenge very well.

The huge, bear of a man met her gaze as well, blade still poised to spill Cross' lifeblood.

Then, snarling with enough ferocity it seemed the bear upon his helm was the one voicing its displeasure, Stigandr turned away from the supine form of Cross, shaking his head and muttering Nordic curses under his breath as he did so.

Striding some paces away, as if to get a breath of the cooler night air, he stopped before the pillars, to turn back, sword dangling at his hip.

Moment passed, Ichi took a half step towards Cross, and extended a hand. After a brief moment of hesitation, Cross took the gloved palm, and allowed a brief look of surprise to flit across his weathered features at the strength in her grip, before straightening.

At his full height, Cross was much taller than Ichi was, and combined with his imposing armor, Ichi could understand why so many feared the name Holden Cross. But, she wasn't the Emperor's Champion for nothing.

Fear had no place, here. Only rational thought.

Still, Ichi couldn't help the vitriol that filled her reply.

"Peace."

Overcome by a sudden bout of anger, welling up within her, at the thought of so many of her people, bodies broken and bloodied, laying on the ground because of that cursed Apollyon's machinations, Ichi sharply turned and paced towards a brazier, her fine features twisted into an ugly frown.

Before she could speak, Stigandr's rough voice made her and Cross turn.

"Even if it were possible… we're no peacemakers!" the Viking said, with a low chop of his open hand.

And it was true.

The three of them only knew war.

Holden Cross, the mightiest of the Lawbringers, one of the deadliest knights known to Ashfeld.

Stigandr, the new Jarl of the Warborn Vikings, who had regained his power and reputation upon leading the Great Raid.

And her, Ichi, the Emperor's Champion, the best swordswoman of the Dawn Empire, who had been thrown into prison for speaking out of turn.

But still.

They had to try.

"Is it an unworthy goal?"

Ichi had the feeling she was asking herself as much as she was wanting for the opinions of Cross and Stigandr. Peace. It was what they had been fighting for. What they had tried to achieve, after Apollyon's demise. But failed to do.

Seven years.

Seven years of fighting, and killing, and dying.

"Well, no- but…" the Viking ventured, Cross content to listen.

All they knew was war… but they all knew, enough was enough. No more blood would be spilled. Not if they had anything to say about it…

Stigandr turned back towards the sky, with the stars twinkling brilliantly against the inky blue-blackness of space. A small smile, so small Ichi might have missed it if she hadn't been looking at the Jarl's face, graced Stigandr's lips.

It was silent.

The crackling of the wood within the fires were the only noises, their guards absent for the meeting, and without the clatter of armor and weapons, nature reigned supreme.

"Is... this how it starts?"

Yes.

Ichi fixed Cross, then Stigandr with her gaze, stepping closer to the both of them.

"It would have to start with us," she murmured, injecting as much confidence and determination into the words as she could.

Because who else would?

Who else could?

"We will die in this attempt. You know that," Cross interjected, tone exceedingly grim.

Ichi spared him a glance. Of course. There would always be those who would oppose peace. But if her life would bring tranquility to the world… she would gladly give it.

She was prepared for death when she spoke in the Emperor's court.

She was prepared for death when she handed her katana to Seijuro.

She was prepared for death when she faced down Apollyon.

And she would be prepared, should peace require her to die, so that others may be saved.

Stigandr's smile turned into a grin, as the grizzled Viking put one booted foot forward and stepped closer.

"But it would make a worthy tale."