So, even though I had the best intentions to update a lot over the past few weeks since I last published, life just didn't work out that way. I did finalize a few things about this story as far as characters and such go if that's any consolation. Sadly, fairly short chapter for you kids. (Well, comparatively short...)

Thanks to quip for pointing out some pretty important grammar errors I've been making for a while. I'm going to systematically go back through my stories and correct it starting with this chapter. Please point out any errors and feel free to question anything you think sounds out of place or logically flawed. I'm dealing with a lot of dense fantasy political/scientific stuff so I'm sure I'm bound to confuse something sooner or later.

*~Bedwin~*

An unfamiliar ceiling.

Flail blinked sluggishly as he stared up at the strange slanted wood. He couldn't remember ever waking up somewhere that wasn't inside the manor. Even as a child he'd always been too busy working for the Count to make friends or have slumber parties. Servants weren't allowed to go with the family on trips to other households, either. How odd.

The brunette's gaze drifted from the ceiling to the window; round, also wooden with regular pane glass covered by white curtains. He'd never seen a window like that from the inside. Certainly there were no noble houses that would have such a tiny, quaint window even in their servant's quarters. How very odd indeed.

Flail's memory of the night before returned like a thunderbolt. He practically threw the covers off himself as he searched for his wounds. The servant gripped at his formerly white shirt now stained by his own blood and pulled it up to reveal his smooth, muscular torso. There was no bandage, no rigid slice through his side; there was nothing. Flail's mind reeled as he tried to think of some logical reason why he was alive and, most disturbingly, unharmed. His innards twisted at the possibility of a coma. He'd heard of people becoming so terribly wounded in battle that they lost consciousness for months.

Months! Could he have been asleep so long that even the scar had healed away? What had happened to the city? What about Valta? Flail was instantly on his feet and charging out of the room for answers.

He ignored the impolite slapping of his bare feet against the uneven wooden boards. However, the servant couldn't help noting the narrowness of the crudely wall papered halls. Flail felt the tingling sensation of claustrophobia slip down his spine. Was this how normal people lived outside of the noble district?

Flail gripped at the staircase's rails to support his haste as he all but threw himself around the corner. He winced at the horrible creak that complained against his weight on the worn stairs. With a short grunt of distaste he hurried the rest of the way down.

The staircase opened into a small lobby with a desk and a few benches for waiting guests. A stout man thumbing through his log books loomed just behind the desk. Only when Flail less than delicately landed on the bottom step did his eyes stray from the records.

"Ah, you're awake," he said dully. For a brief moment his gaze lingered on Flail's bare feet, but did no more than take note of the boy's shamelessness. "Your friends are in the kitchen." He gestured to another narrow passage mostly hidden behind an oversized house plant.

Flail barely nodded as he slipped off the final step and onto the gaudy rug of swirled reds and blues. He lingered for a moment as he surmised the residence was a hotel of sorts, but it was far different from what had been described to him by Count Sigmund's guests. The boy almost cautiously crossed the lobby and slipped through the passage to the kitchens.

"… but crossing the border will be difficult now…"

"I know, but I have to go there no matter what."

Flail's pace quickened impatiently when he heard the young male and female voices. He clenched his fists, prepared to demand his answers as he made his entrance. The dining area was cramped and only separated from the kitchen by a low wall for trays of food to be passed between the cook and server. There were only three circular tables and a few sets of chairs to accommodate customers.

The only guests were a couple sitting at the nearest table that fell silent as they turned to regard Flail.

"H-How are you feeling?" the grey haired boy asked awkwardly under Flail's harsh stare. His maroon robes obviously belonged to the Church of the Six Sentients and his open posture suggested he either didn't see Flail as a threat or simply hadn't been trained to watch his guard around a potential combatant. The acolyte pushed his glasses into place while smiling in a polite attempt to be friendly and inviting.

"Where are we?" Flail demanded, not willing to relax in case the former of the two possibilities was true.

"The Sandries Inn at Bedwin," the boy answered, not batting an eye at Flail's rudeness.

"Bedwin? Why am I out in the boondocks?" Flail narrowed his eyes as he recalled Ispania's surrounding territories and their general geography. Bedwin had been formed merely out of convenience for travelers on their way to the capitol from rural towns. If he recalled correctly it wasn't even on a trade route.

"We were just lucky a passing caravan picked us up," the acolyte explained. "We weren't in a position to debate where we were going and ended up all the way out here."

"What do you mean by that?" Flail started. He hesitated and shook his head in frustration. "No, more importantly, why did you take me from the city? How long have I been unconscious?"

"Please sit down so we can explain better." The girl finally spoke up with a weary smile as she lightly fingered her mug. Her short, pale blonde hair hung limply over her shoulders under some strange hair ornament of twisting golden metal. Flail was quiet as he studied her petite frame and delicate features until his eyes widened with recognition.

"You're that cursed girl!" he blurted out accusingly. The female was so startled that it took her a moment to react. Her light verdant eyes burned with fury as she rose to her full, unintimidating height.

"Cursed? I am not cursed!" she argued indignantly. "It's gullible, superstitious people like you who make my life so difficult!"

"G-Gullible?" Flail sputtered on the word as his cheeks burned.

"Yulia, please, calm down," the acolyte said gently, raising his hands in defense as if he could physically ward away their bad moods.

"That's easy for you to say," Yulia half snapped. Her hands jumped up to cover her mouth as if shocked by its unfair anger towards the stormy eyed boy. "I… I mean… I'm sorry, Daath."

"It is fine," Daath said gently, not fazed by her short temper. "We've all been through a lot. Let's settle down and discuss it over breakfast." He nudged a chair towards Flail as a silent invite for him to join them. The servant thought to refuse on principle but knew he needed answers and his stomach was starting to cramp. He wasn't sure when he last ate. With a soft grunt to indicate his reluctance, he lowered his weight heavily into the chair. Yulia sat stiffly, not any happier than Flail was to share the same company.

"Who are you, anyway?" Flail finally asked.

"Shouldn't you offer your own name before asking someone else's?" Yulia asked shortly as she took a quick sip of her tea to get the bad taste of talking to him out of her mouth. Flail narrowed his eyes at the girl but relented.

"My name is Flail Albert," he said, "Servant of Count Sigmund."

"I am Francis Daath," the ecclesiastic said pleasantly, not seeming the least bit deterred by his companions' ire, "I am an acolyte currently in charge of the shrine at Rem's Garden. This is my friend, Yulia Jue, a researcher at Ispania Academy."

"Ispania Academy…" Flail repeated somberly. His expression darkened as he recalled the blood soaked state of the front lawn and the attackers he had faced.

"Can I ask what you were doing there and who you were fighting?" Daath asked cautiously, desiring answers but not wanting to tread recklessly on what might be a delicate matter.

"I was just passing through," Flail admitted. "I happened upon them taking some old guy prisoner."

"Old guy?" Yulia gave an urgent start and nearly rose out of her seat again. "What did he look like?"

"I didn't really get a good look at him," Flail said, blinking at the girl's emotional reaction. "He had a long beard and hair…" Yulia's mouth thinned with recognition as she settled back in her chair.

"Doctor…" she mumbled faintly as she turned her attention to fingering the rim of her mug again. Daath shifted to place a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

"He might still be alive," he said. "That's great news, isn't it?"

"Providing he isn't being tortured for information or something," Flail said absently as he reached for one of the biscuits on the table. He broke the pastry in half before he finally sensed their eyes on him and looked up. Daath's weak, anxious smile and Yulia's cold glare told him he'd made a faux pas of some sort. "What?"

"You're horrible," Yulia accused. "The worst kind of human being."

"Now, now…" Daath tried to sooth the angered female. Flail shifted irritably at her accusation and decided against retaliating. He wasn't about to apologize, but even he could recognize when he was being insensitive.

"Neither of you have answered my questions," he pointed out.

"Sorry," Daath said as he sat back in his chair, taking a sip of his own drink to collect his thoughts regarding their escape from the capitol.

Despite the echos of death and chaos in the distance, no sound was quite as haunting or deafening as the pitiful sobs of Yulia Jue. Daath could only stare at the healer as she crumpled into a small heap of misery. He was by no means experienced in comforting a distraught woman under any circumstance and the weight of his current revelation wasn't making it much easier for him to think of the appropriate reaction.

Yulia was a Seventh Fonist, one who could use the catastrophic fonon of creation and destruction; the fonon of sound; the center of the Fonic War that had reduced Aldurant to a bloody imitation of its former glory; the fonon that had cast doubt and contempt upon the Church of the Sixth Sentiences. It was the fonon that was destroying the world and Yulia was its wielder.

Daath shuddered at the thought of this girl having such a deep connection to the horrible fonon, but quickly tried to catch himself. His mind back peddled for rationality against the current of darker emotions. No one chose the fonon they were aligned with; it wasn't Yulia's fault. Yulia was still the kind, energetic girl who had such ridiculously innocent fantasies about falling in love and getting married. Yulia was still the girl who had worked alongside him for so many months to restore Rem's garden, wasn't she?

The acolyte took a few deep breaths as he recollected himself, holding tightly to the silent mantra that Yulia Jue, the Seventh Fonist, was still Yulia Jue, his most precious friend.

"Yulia… are you hurt?" he asked, surprising himself with his own steady tone. The hiccuped failure of a confirmation reassured him she was fine despite her less than optimistic state. "I'm glad. I was really worried about you."

The pale blonde's shoulders winced in confusion. Sluggishly she raised her puffy eyes from her hands to see Daath smiling at her. The smile was painfully wary and uncertain, but it was genuine enough that she nearly began to sob again.

"Daath… you don't have to pretend you still like me," she forced herself to say, not wanting the ecclesiastic to pity her with false friendship. "I understand so…"

"I'm a little shocked," Daath gently cut in. "I'm not really sure what to think, to be honest, but for now I'd like to focus on getting out of this alive. We should move somewhere safer, if that's alright with you."

"I…" Yuila swallowed her tears, wanting to force the conversation and confirm Daath's hatred. She couldn't explain why the need to know burned so deeply in her chest, but it was painfully smoldering and swelling inside the very core of her being. Perhaps it was easier for her shell-shocked mind to focus on that one bit of anxiety rather than the various, intangible emotions overwhelming her.

"Can you stand up?" Daath asked as he rose and extended a hand. "I'll need your help to move this guy. We can't just leave him here."

Yulia clenched her teeth; outraged that he was ignoring her sin. Without thinking she threw all of her fury and frustration into slapping his tender hand away. The sting of her blow was more evident in his expression than the soreness of his appendage.

"Y-Yulia?"

"How can you say that?" Yulia demanded, nearly shouting against her hot tears. "Don't you realize what just happened? A proper priest would condemn me right away! What's wrong with you, Daath?" The short silence was almost as deafening as the truth of her words still hanging in the air.

"Well… I'm just an acolyte," Daath said softly as he held out his hand again, ignoring her flinch. "There are many things I don't know about the church and the rest of the world. There are, apparently, many things I don't know about you… But I do know that you are a good person, Yulia, and I don't want to see someone important to me hurt."

"D-Daath…" Yulia half whimpered, half breathed out, nearly choking as another fit of sobs jumped into her throat, "Daath, you idiot! You're such an… an idiot!"

Daath smiled, recognizing the softness in her insults. When she had calmed down he spoke again. "Come on and stand up," he said, "There's still a lot we have to do, you know?"

"Y-Yeah," Yulia said, wiping her eyes as she tried to smile up at the acolyte. She took his hand and rose to her feet, dusting the bloody mud and grass from her knees. "Sorry, Daath, for causing so much trouble."

"It's understandable that you would be upset," Daath assured her. "Now, let's get this guy somewhere safe. After that I plan on assisting in containing the fires and monsters in the lower districts…"

Yulia opened her mouth to offer assistance, but the words were drowned out by a deafening, guttural shriek. The girl gripped her upper body as if to keep it from shaking apart under the horrible noise. Even the ground beneath her feet gave a quake of terror.

"Wh… What was that?" Daath asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper in the following silence. For a moment it seemed as if the sound had been so great it swallowed up the chaotic symphony of war around them. The ground lurched violently with a thundering crash that knocked the ecclesiastic and scientist off their feet.

Yulia's heart beat wildly in her chest as if she could sense the monstrosity before her eyes rose to spot the behemoth towering over them. The beast was easily two or three stories tall hunkered over on all fours. Its scales were a dark, murky red flaked with black. Onyx talons glinted dangerously in the distant glow of fire as the beast rolled into its proper posture on two muscular legs, rendering Yulia's first estimation of its height invalid. The leathery wingspan filled her entire peripheral vision as the demonic appendages neatly tucked into place behind its back.

"A drake…?" Yulia heard Daath choke out beside her. Yes, her mind supplied automatically. Zoology was not her forte, but she knew of drakes. They were a rare type of dragon that had once been bred for warfare by certain nomadic tribes. Usually they only grew to twenty feet in length but this one was surely ten times that estimation. It wasn't entirely unheard of for one to grow to immeasurable sizes in the wild, but she was fairly certain that they were extinct outside of those in captivity.

For a few fleeting seconds the drake merely surveyed its surroundings as if casually debating where to start first. Its chest swelled as the beast's thick neck extended backwards. The razor edged beak nestled between two ominous tusks opened, revealing hungry red flames dancing playfully behind the monster's fangs. Yulia's body was suddenly numb and cold as if she was actually very far away at the moment.

A wad of lava like mucus was launched from the monster's throat, trailed by fire and dripping molten hot liquid across the darkness of the night. The unfortunate building it fell upon erupted in brilliant flames that lit the sky crimson.

The gust of hot air discharged from the explosion struck Yulia and she screamed senselessly in horror as the drake began its rampage against the defenseless buildings. A harsh grip on her shoulders was the only thing that pulled her back to reality.

"We have to run!" Daath shouted over the renewal of terror and destruction.

"B-But the people! All those people are…" Yulia tried to protest helplessly. Daath shook his head as he turned to lift the unconscious swordsman against his shoulder. Yulia wanted to argue, but a surge of terror following another earth shuddering roar from the beast quickly had her at the swordsman's other side, sharing his weight between herself and the acolyte. "U-Under the academy… the passage I used before can lead us out of the city."

"Let's hurry," Daath agreed, allowing Yulia to guide them to safety.

"Like I said before, a passing caravan picked us up when we emerged outside of the escape tunnel," Daath concluded evenly. "We fell asleep and awoke all the way out here where we got off."

Yulia quietly continued to toy with the cup now shaking in her unsteady hands as she recalled the moments of destruction. Her hair hung stagnantly in her face as the scientist kept her gaze low.

"The… The capital… Was it destroyed?" Flail asked. His voice had gone quiet while he tried to reconcile what he had been told with the reality he was familiar with. The servant clenched his fists grimly, wondering if the Sigmund House had been destroyed. While it was far from unheard of for a city to be decimated over night in the violent history of Auldrant, they had always seemed like far away stories.

"We haven't heard any news yet," Daath said. "It's still too soon for a messenger to reach a place like this. Bedwin has no strategic importance so it gets low priority for information."

"We're the only refugees to come this way?" Flail asked, his disbelief coming out in anger as he slammed his fist into the table against the absurdity of it all. "Even if this isn't a designated evacuation spot it's been weeks, hasn't it? Someone should have come by!"

"No… You've only been asleep for three days," Daath said softly, avoiding the confused and startled gaze of the taller youth's intelligent blue eyes.

"My side was ripped open… There's not even a scar," Flail said slowly as his mind started to spiral at the impossibility of the situation. He gripped the edge of the table as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded in the real world. "That's ridiculous! Wounds don't heal that easily!"

"Just be glad you're alive!" Yulia suddenly shouted, her body going rigid as her fingers paled from their grip on the mug. Her verdant eyes flashed with tears and frustration. "You already have so much more than the victims and you're complaining about being unharmed? What's wrong with you?"

Flail recoiled from the girl as if she had physically slapped him. He could only stare at her quivering body, all at once noticing the faded bruises and scrapes from her struggle to survive. His expression softened even as he glared downward and released the table.

"Thank you for saving me," Flail said sedately.

"This all must be hard to take in at once," Daath said.

"It must have been even harder to experience." The servant shook his head, creating a wave through his smooth brown hair. "I over reacted."

"It isn't an unreasonable reaction, though," Daath assured the chastised boy. He looked up when he heard the screech of chair legs against the wooden floor.

"I need some fresh air," Yulia explained, avoiding eye contact as she passed Flail on her way towards the exit. Flail kept his gaze forward while Daath only acknowledged her need for space with an unseen nod.

"I guess I really upset her," Flail observed once her footsteps had faded down the hall.

"You could say that," Daath admitted. "She's been having a hard time with it."

"You're surprisingly calm," Flail said, turning a suspicious eye on the acolyte.

"Not at all," Daath said with a chuckle, "I'm terrified, to be honest. The church has us train for self defense and protecting others, but I've never actually been involved in an attack until now."

"Training, huh…" Flail sighed and ran a hand through his bangs. "If news about the capitol hasn't reached here yet, then I guess there's no information regarding the front lines, huh?"

"No, there isn't," Daath said apologetically.

"Hm…" Flail grunted his acknowledgment before looking over at the acolyte. "What are you planning to do now?"

"Honestly, I should return to Rem's Garden as soon as possible to help protect and assist the people." Daath fidgeted guiltily, lightly drumming his fingers on the table's rim. "But I'm worried about Yulia."

"Does she not want to return? She did seem pretty shaken up," Flail said. "I hear it's not uncommon for refugees to be too afraid to go home after an attack."

"Yulia isn't like that," Daath said immediately.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Flail said. He felt pretty confident he hadn't spoken out of line that time, but he wasn't known for his impeccable social skills.

"Yulia has something important she needs to confirm," Daath said, accepting that Flail had no ill intentions. "For that purpose she is determined to set out on a journey."

"Alone?" Flail frowned at the thought of such a frail looking girl traveling by herself.

"No matter what, she says." Daath obviously echoed the servant's unspoken concerns.

"Before I walked in I heard you guys mention something about the border," Flail said. "This journey of hers would even take her out of Ispania?"

"Yes," Daath confirmed, "I imagine it will take us far beyond Ispania."

"You're going with her?" Flail quirked a brow at the acolyte's devotion to the girl. "I thought your duty was to Rem's Garden?" The tiny, cryptic smile that accompanied Daath's response unsettled the servant on some level he couldn't quite place.

"I have certain things I want to confirm, too," Daath explained as his gaze left Flail to linger outside a nearby window, "about the war… about Yulia… about my own beliefs and even about Aldrant itself. I want to give her a proper answer one day about all these things."

"And following her will help you find that answer?" Flail asked, drawing the other youth's attention back to him.

"That's what I believe," Daath admitted as he smiled at another one of Flail's suspicious stares.

"So… you two are involved?"

"I-Involved?" The poor ecclesiastic's cheeks burned brightly as he fumbled with the idea. "No! No, we're just friends. That's all. That's seriously all!"

"Ok, I believe you," Flail said to sooth the panicking boy. He couldn't help but crack amused smile. This was the first emotional reaction he'd seen from Daath. "I was just wondering."

"Please, don't startle me like that." Daath heaved a sigh, his face still flushed crimson under his glasses. Flail suppressed a chuckle as he gave the acolyte some time to recollect himself. He thoughtfully nibbled on his all but forgotten biscuit.

"By the way… To cross the border you'll have to go through the check point, right?" Flail asked after swallowing a bite of his biscuit.

"Most likely," Daath mused as he took a sip of his drink. "Unless we are forced to sneak across... Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to go with you," Flail said, "at least until we reach the check point. I can get some information there."

"You don't want to return to the capitol?" The acolyte put down his cup, surprised that the taller boy would want to accompany them despite his apparent reservations.

"Let's just say…" Flail began with a faint smirk directed at Daath, "... that I have some things I want to confirm, too."

"La, la, la… lala laala…"

Yulia's voice was delicate and soft on the wind that carried the girl's wordless melody across vacant scenery. Bedwin was truly all but a ghost town. Aside from the general store, grocery, inn and a few sparse farms in the distance there was nothing but a road stretching as far as the eye could see.

The city girl found it lonely and a tad creepy at first, but she was growing to see the beauty in such a slow paced, peaceful life. Most of the residents were friendly, closely knit people that were pleasant to talk with and had no prejudices against her. People like that she could truly love. However, Yulia doubted she would enjoy living in such a way so far from the rest of the world.

Yulia's heart twisted painfully in her chest, forcing her to drop the tune she had been working on. The rest of the world was filled with bloodshed. Even peaceful Ispania was soiled by the Fonic War. Most likely this quaint Bedwin would be, too.

"No… I'll change it," Yulia whispered softly, a hand going to the amplifier securely fashioned to her head; Dr. Southern-Cross' final gift. Her brows knit stubbornly as her voice gathered strength. "I'll do it… I'll definitely find the Seventh Sentience and end the Fonic War. No matter what it takes."

Which was fine to say and resolve in her heart, but that didn't stop her body from trembling. Nor did it silence the screams echoing in her memories.

"La, la, la… lala laala…"

Perhaps if she couldn't silence them, then she could sing her fears away.

The tune is supposed to be Nightmare (or whatever the name of her first song is), actually. No idea how to put that in lala form, but did my best. If you got it, good job, if not then oh well. It's not very clear at all.