I had this chapter written for a few months but only just now got around to typing it. I'm so lazy, I'm sorry.

The sun had not yet deigned to show its face before Sena was preparing to leave. He worked by the light of an oil lamp, preparing a small sack of essentials: rations in case the generals came up empty-handed on food (unlikely, but you never knew), his waterskin, a whetstone and oil for his blade, basic medical supplies, and a change of clothing.

He was to leave all effects of his state behind, including his gold-trimmed tunic, and travel in the guise of a common sellsword. It was better that way, Kurita had told him when he appeared to Sena earlier in the night. They wanted to attract less attention, he said; Sena didn't bother mentioning that Hiruma alone was more conspicuous than he ever could be. Kurita, he suspected, had been sent to pass along the message, and he didn't doubt that Hiruma already had a plan regarding that.

Sena cinched the drawstrings of his pack a mite tighter and buckled the top flap down. It was light still, plenty of room for anything useful he might pick up along the way. He looked out the window as he strapped his sword around his waist. The curtains were drawn. He paused for a moment, then picked up the oil lamp, taking a good look at his room. It was furnished only slightly more comfortably than standard military barracks, but Sena didn't mind that. His job kept him away, often for months at a clip, so he was used to not having his creature comforts.

He might not see this place again.

Sena sighed, slinging the pack over his back and carrying the lamp to the end table by the door, blowing it out. Orders were orders, he thought, groping for the doorknob in the darkness until he finally got it open. He wanted to cross neither Hiruma nor Kid. He had to do this, plain and simple.

The sky had brightened into twilight when Sena left the government building he lived in. Hiruma wanted to get out of the city before dawn broke, so he started at a jog, making quick time through the sleepy streets of the city. The sun had just started peeking over the hills to the east when Sena made it to the northern gate, passing the first of the day shift guards. The three laguz were waiting a few feet outside; he called softly to them, unsure if he was late or not.

"You're late." Hiruma glanced away from the east and at him.

Well, that answered that.

"Only by a few minutes," Kurita admonished. "Did you sleep well, Sena?"

They were moving now, making small talk as they headed north. Sena kept up a stream of minimally awkward conversation with Kurita; the swordsmaster was very grateful for the lion's friendliness, talking with him was much better than going silent. He was a little more reluctant to strike up a conversation with Musashi and he hardly dared talk to Hiruma at all, unless he'd been addressed first.

Sena was halfway through telling Kurita about his scarce past dealings with Ojou (yes, he'd been there before, but only twice and nowhere near a big city; he hadn't been so high-ranked then) when the giant held up an arm to stop him from going farther. He caught himself before he walked into it, looking up at the lion's face.

"Kurita?"

"Over there, Sena. Someone's coming."

Sena noticed then that Hiruma and Musashi had halted and were facing in the same direction Kurita was looking in now: back to the city. He turned as well, peering back at the mile or so they had covered. A horse was coming towards them at what looked to be full speed. It was just leaving the gates, so it was too far off for Sena to make out the rider.

"Kurita, can you see who's on it?" he asked, glancing up.

The lion shook his head. "The glare from the sun coming up is too strong." Kurita looked over his shoulder. "Hiruma, what do you think of it?"

"If they're hostile, they either don't know who they're dealing with or have a death wish."

"Do you want me to take care of it?" Musashi asked. There was an unusual hissing quality to his voice; Sena turned to see that his canines had grown far more pronounced and hung an inch or so past his upper lip when he closed his mouth. Along with that, a dappled pattern spread along his skin, one that matched his beast form's fur.

"Only if they attack," Hiruma replied, keeping an eye on the anonymous figures. "Otherwise, we're waiting here for them."

Sena loosened his sword in his scabbard while he wracked his brains trying to figure out who the riders possibly could be. All the while, they drew closer. When the sun's glare finally shifted, Sena made out the one at the reins and couldn't suppress an astounded exclamation.

"Riku?"

"Somebody you know, shrimp?"

"He's an old friend of mine. He taught me how to fight."

To that, there was no response, but he could feel Hiruma staring at the back of his head. When next he looked, Musashi had lost his beastly traits (barring his tail and furry tapered ears, which were ever-present) and he and Hiruma were much more relaxed. Sena let the sword fall back into its scabbard and waited with the rest of them.

Riku took another five minutes to make it all the way there, bringing the horse to a decidedly unprofessional stop with many cries of "Whoa, whoa!" The animal, a proud bay battle-charger, snorted and tossed its head before it would submit. Riku jumped down, hiding the wobble in his legs.

"Nice of you to wait for us," he said, helping none other than Mamori down from the horse. She was carrying something on her back; a pack much like Sena's own, he saw with a little bit of confusion. In her hand was her heal staff.

"What are you two doing here?" Sena asked incredulously. A spark of hope kindled when he mulled over the pack. "Are you coming with us?"

"No they're not," Hiruma snapped before either of them could get a word in edgeways. Sena was about to ask how exactly he knew that before a look at his eyes told a different story. Hiruma simply wasn't going to let them join.

"Well, you're half right," Riku said. "I'm only here because Mamori begged me to take her out here." The white-haired boy gave Sena a rueful look. "Kid's going to tan my hide when I get back. Had to skip morning drills to do this. She just wouldn't stop." Sena gave him a pained smile; both of them had experienced that.

"Sorry, Rikky." Mamori smiled apologetically.

"And what about her?" Hiruma brought them all back to business.

Riku stepped back, making a pretense of checking saddle girths that didn't exist, seeing as Mamori hadn't given him time to put tack on the horse. He knew what Mamori was about to bring up and he sensed that he was not going to be welcome in the conversation.

Mamori stepped forward and looked the dragon in the eyes. "I'm here to keep an eye on Sena and make sure he isn't killed." Sena balked at her words; he'd assumed Mamori has been okay with this whole venture, but evidently she was not.

Hiruma curled his lip derisively. "According to who?"

"To me." The cleric stood her ground, jaw set. "You need a healer anyway. What if you were all injured like his arm was-" She gestured to Hiruma here "-and you couldn't move, or protect Sena?"

In the silence that followed, Kurita spoke. "She has a point, Hiruma." Musashi nodded.

Hiruma didn't answer, instead walking up to Mamori and leaning down to glare directly into her eyes. Most people were sent scurrying by that look, Sena knew. Mamori squared her shoulders and glared right back, her grip tightening on the white wood of her staff. The dragon saw no fear in her eyes, and her determination was already very clear.

Hiruma's face split into a wide, fierce grin and he straightened up to toss his head back with a laugh. "Alright then, sister, but keep out of the way when we're fighting."

"'When' you're fighting?" Mamori asked sharply, and Hiruma's laughter redoubled as he set off for a knoll not too far away.

Riku took his leave immediately after, wishing both of them the best of luck. Sena watched him to before Hiruma barked at them and he fell in step beside Mamori. "I'm glad you're here," he told her. "We can really use the help of someone like you."

"All the same," she mused, "I wish you weren't going. You just got back from a mission, you need a break."

"Come on, kiddies!" Hiruma called over his shoulder, interrupting Sena's reply. "Time enough for introductions and catching up when we get up that hill!"

Sena found it highly irregular that Hiruma would call for a break so early. "Are we stopping there?"

"Of course we are, fucking shrimp."

"But why?"

"You'll see."

The crest of the hill provided them with a comfortable place to bring Mamori up to speed. She was unaware of the impending attack, as she and Riku had left before Kid had spread the word to the general public. She took the knowledge gravely and started trying to work out a solution.

"So we're going to Ojou to warn them too?"
"Yep."

The answer was definite and there were no other questions at hand. They all sat in tranquility as the sun came farther up.

Finally, Sena had to ask. "What are we doing here, Hiruma?"

"I told you, you'll see."

"He shouldn't be too long, I'm sure," Musashi added, looking off in the direction of the capital. Whatever he was searching for, Sena couldn't see it, and he resigned himself to being held in suspense until 'he' showed up.

In actuality, he only had to wait around thirty minutes, a long, bass howl floated on the air towards them and Sena remembered instantly who they had been missing.

Joining Hiruma on the hill's slope, he watched Cerberos streak like a dirty comet towards them, traveling at speeds that exceeded Musashi's. A look at the dragon's face revealed that he was grinning. The wolf slowed and stopped, panting, in front of them.

Hiruma turned around and headed back up. "Fifteen more minutes, then we're moving." Cerberos and Sena trotted back up with him; the other nodded or hummed acknowledgement.

Mamori eyed the newcomer warily. "Who is this?" The wolf swung its head toward her, locking gazes for an instant before resuming his lope. Mamori wondered what that look meant; the face of a beast was inscrutable.

"He's Cerberos." The answer to her question came not from Sena, as she had expected, but from Hiruma. However, that was all he did: beyond that, he did not elaborate on what that was supposed to mean to her, if anything.

It did make her study the wolf more closely in an attempt to glean information from him. She got nothing, except that he was large and tan-furred, presumably of ill temperament, and had a strange stutter in his step. The last one she paid close attention to; as a healer, she sympathized with every being that had injury, no matter if it was a human or an animal, or something in between as it was with Cerberos. She rose to her feet and jogged around to the wolf's front, blocking his progress. He snarled.

Sena watched her, fearful. He didn't know Cerberos very well at all and was unsure what that noise stood for. "Mamori?" he asked hesitantly. He watched the fur on Cerberos's shoulders stand on end, lip curling back to reveal frightfully sharp teeth.

Mamori ignored both of them and ducked around to Cerberos's neck. His body tensed and he started to turn, likely to snap at her, but Hiruma rapped the wolf sharply on the snout. He snorted and shook his head irritably.

The dragon raised an eyebrow when confronted with Sena's and Mamori's puzzled stares. "What? Get on with it, the dumbass is still hurt, isn't he?"

Sena glanced down at Mamori, who after a moment of silence had knelt and was digging through the thick fur. She grimaced and pulled her hand away, showing everyone present her fingers, which were stained red. Hiruma's eyes slit dangerously. Sena guessed he was displeased and was going to be having private words with Cerberos when he had a chance. At a quick request from Mamori, Sena brought her heal staff; she took it and pinned back the fur surrounding the injury. It had sealed over, but only a little, and it seemed the hard running that Cerberos had done to catch up with them had torn it open.
The bulbous end of the staff glowed a soothing blue; Cerberos's growls grew louder and he shifted uncomfortably, snapping his teeth shut around an imaginary limb. The cut stitched back together and the marred muscle beneath realigned itself. Mamori stood, rubbing her forehead with a weary air; Sena knew that using magic to heal made her tired and that she preferred not to use it except in the most extreme circumstances. He went to get her a bite to eat while Cerberos tested out his newly-healed leg. The limp was gone. He made as close to a ponderous noise as a wolf could make and stared at Mamori for a moment more before waving his tail side to side, almost as if to say, 'She'll do.'

As eager as Hiruma had been to leave, he showed no desire to move their pace any faster than a moderate walk. Not that any of them were complaining. The last few days had been taxing on most of them, and while they still had to move, they no longer had to move as quickly.

"Fucking dreads is going to take more than a week to get back to the Shinryuuji capital," he explained when pestered. "He'll have to wait while he heals up, which, since he's unfortunately like us-" the dragon waved an arm over himself, Cerberos, and the other two generals, describing all of the laguz "-won't take very long."

"We don't have any healers," Kurita clarified when Mamori asked. "None that can use magic, anyway."

"And even if we did, fucking dreads would still take another week at least to get back out here, by which point we'll be through Deimon and in Ojou."

Sena and Mamori exchanged alarmed glances. "We're going through Deimon?" the swordsmaster questioned, his words a mite taut.

"We don't have time to go around and get into Ojou through the border directly by Seibu; that'll take two weeks or worse, even if you rode us from here to there. There's more water in Deimon than there is in this country. Deimon is tiny, it won't take long to run through. Every man is helpful when you're out to depose a tyrant." Hiruma fixed him with a pointed stare. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't go through Deimon, and it better be a fucking good one, fucking shrimp."

Sena averted his eyes and bleakly considered. On a map, Deimon was a skinny pocket of a country that sat snugly between Ojou and Seibu, accounting for nearly half of the border between the two. Its inception was rooted in war - in years long past living memory, save those of the laguz, when Seibu and Ojou had not yet risen as prominent powers and the lands between the fierce desert people to the north and the shapeshifters to the south were in constant turmoil, the many common men oppressed by this neverending conflict appealed to a powerful, sympathetic nobleman and won his aid. Taking advantage of the confusion, their forces struck out at the flanks of both armies, eventually carving a large portion of the land for themselves to live in peace. Seibu and Ojou paid no mind to the errant nobleman, as they were busy battering at each other in the last throes of their struggle.

When the treaties had been finalized, they realized that, in their neglect, the nobleman had seized much of the territory that they originally had owned and set about to take it back. With the full force of both armies attacking from both sides, the captured land quickly dwindled into a narrow strip. Most of the good folk, the farmers and serfs that had incited the rebellion, had left to settle in Seibu and Ojou once peace was certain, with nobody the wiser. Only the most stubborn, ambitious, and black-hearted stayed to fight alongside the nobleman's fast-depleting forces. As a result, when the battle was at last resolved, Deimon had become a country populated in majority with thugs and roughnecks. It tended to be a wholly hostile locale, where nobody would think twice about attacking a man, even if he had nothing of value on him.

The most curious thing about Deimon, though, was the way these battles had ended. Old legend said that all three factions had simply stopped fighting when Seibu reached the strip of mountains that now formed its south border and Ojou crossed the inhospitable mire that was its north border. Written accounts by those present, what is legible of them, anyway, say that a glittering, snowy dragon had come down from on high and coaxed both armies to turn around, threatening death and destruction if the orders were not heeded. The people in those days were not as learned as they were now, and took it as a sign from a god to cease their efforts and had complied.

Dragon. A white dragon. Sena's heart squeezed painfully and it was a few minutes before he remembered he had a question to answer. "I can't think of one," Sena admitted.

"Didn't think so." Hiruma continued walking and Sena stared at his back.

"Hiruma?" he asked suddenly, because he absolutely had to know.

"Yeah?" The dragon didn't turn around.

"Were you in Deimon, when the three armies were between the mountains and the mire?"

"Yeah."

The swordsmaster swallowed sharply. "Then, are you the one responsible for Deimon existing today?"

To his surprise, he heard Musashi chuckling fondly and saw Kurita smiling nostalgically. Hiruma's head cocked and he glanced over his shoulder, a wide, pleased grin stretching ear to pointed ear. "It's about fucking time somebody figured that out. You humans are so fucking forgetful, and then you're slow to boot."

Sena ignored the slight to his race and shared a smile with Mamori, who looked as shocked as he could ever recall seeing her.

And they pressed on, until the distant mountains appeared in the horizon and the sun hung low in the west.