Aaaaaand we're back! I picked this story as my NaNoWriMo for the month, so let's hop to it!

The cockatrigles ruffled their wings nervously as Elsword and Aisha tied their reins to a nearby tree. Neither the knight or the mage could blame them, the air and surrounding landscape being dark and oppressive. This was Feita, after all.

The journey here had its own small story, beginning with Aisha's insistence that Elsword escort her on a "research venture." Next, came the brief investigation of the bat engravings that the Arsonist Priest left as their calling card. Aisha used these etchings as faux reasoning to investigate dark magic.

Elsword naturally cautioned her to abandon this "stupid excuse of an expedition," to which she responded with a spiteful jab at his pride. All it took was a taunting "What? Are you scared?" to convince him to play along. Using the traces of magic left in the engravings, Aisha was able to track what she believed to be the source, the Arsonist Priest, to Feita.

Even she paused when the realization hit her that her quarry resided in that dull, dead land. Feita had been irreparably scarred from the Demon War, as it had been the demon's base of operations on Elrios. Their very presence poisoned the land and casted a persistent cover of dark clouds in the immediate sky. By the time the demons were forced back through the portal for eternity, their dark energies had bled into the soil, the water, the air—and the El. The very power that allowed life to flourish in Elrios had been corrupted and twisted, leaving the rolling plains desolate and the trees barren. The air and water had been painstakingly purified through the efforts of human priests, priestesses and elven missionaries, but the land was eventually abandoned to ruin upon realization that it would take centuries of care for Feita to recover even a fraction of its former radiance.

What remained was a painful reminder of what war brought: death and destruction. While one could now live in this desolate place, why would they? Crops died before they would even sprout, livestock refused to graze on the dark grass and those that mustered the courage to remain spoke of unearthly whispers that invited them to eternal slumber.

This was the land where the Arsonist Priest hid. More specifically, in the ruined Church of Illipia, hidden away in the hills. The two unlikely partners said nothing; whether it was out of anxiety, fear or both was a mystery. The tower of the church had collapsed, its remains scattered across the ground before it. The stained glass windows were filthy with grime and dirt or shattered into jagged pieces. The Illipia's cross, the symbol of a peaceful religion, lay broken from when it fell off the roof.

This was no safe haven; not anymore. And the faint, purple glow flickering in the rooms above warned of an otherworldly power. Elsword broke the silence. "You're sure about this?"

Of course she wasn't sure about this. But she hoped—no, believed desperately—that apprehending this lunatic would grant her the strength to overcome the encroaching pyrophobia that was slowly closing its grip on her mind. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat before answering, "Yeah. The magic traces lead here. If anything, we can find a ritual site or other materials I can use for my research."

Elsword looked unimpressed with her lie, but he couldn't bring himself to argue with her. Not here, not now. He knew she wasn't here for research. They had followed the trail of dark magic left by the so-called Arsonist Priest here, so whatever Aisha's objective was it had to do with that nut case. Even if she was telling the truth and this trip was merely academic, there was an opportunity to capture a serial arsonist that had been terrorizing the public for years that he didn't want to pass up. He stepped in front of her, his red eyes scrutinizing the purple glow inside. "I'll head in first and see if it's clear."

Aisha nodded silently, and he stepped to what remained of the door into the atrium. One of the doors had fallen and the other hung to the wall by one of its weathered, bronze hinges. He peeked around the door and saw the vestibule and aisles, or what was left of them anyways. Years of neglect had taken their toll on this house of faith, as the benches were either rotting piles of wood or smashed to pieces by debris—or perhaps by someone. He couldn't really tell. Pillars were either ruined or chipped and cracked with pieces of the roof littered about the aisle. The altar of Elia, Elrios' God of Light, was split in half and the god's effigy only had the body and half of the head left of it.

But the knight saw no sign of anyone, Arsonist Priest or not, inside. "Looks clear. Come on." He motioned to Aisha, who fiddled nervously with her staff as she came up behind him. They entered the decrepit church together warily checking each dark corner for signs of the lunatic. Aisha half expected a swarm of bats to burst from one of the many holes in the walls or ceiling, but there wasn't any sign of life on this floor.

She saw the purple glow above sneaking through cracks and holes in the ceiling and she pointed up with her staff. "It looks like we can find something up there," she whispered. Elsword nodded and found the stairs to the next level tucked away in a corner behind the altar.

As he ascended the steps he heard something, like a murmur, but he couldn't tell if it was his own anxiety playing tricks on him or if it was real. But he quietly drew his sword, signaling to Aisha to be quiet. She nodded before climbing the stairs after him.

The corridor was bathed in a purple glow that shone from a room near the end. And there was an unsettling mumble coming from it as well.

Someone was here.

Aisha felt her legs lock up as she stepped off the stairs. While she intended to capture the Arsonist Priest she never thought about how she would go about doing it. If the culprit used fire, she wasn't so sure if she'd be able to retain her composure. The thought of being burned alive was…

Her legs gave out and her vision spun like a top. Elsword noticed her collapsing and grabbed her hand just in time to stop her from falling down the steps. "Aisha!" His whisper was sharp, and he pulled her up and sat her down on the wall. He gave her a slight shake and didn't say another word until her weary gaze met his.

"Aisha, why are you doing this?" She held eye contact for a long second before shifting her gaze to her quivering hand on the floor.

"It's… for… research…" Her words were forced, but quiet. If she told him that she was hoping to overcome her growing pyrophobia by capturing this serial arsonist her reputation as the Magic Prodigy would be called into question. How could she be a magical prodigy if she was deathly afraid of fire?

Elsword, however, was done playing along. "Research for what? On how to give yourself a panic attack?! Aisha, I didn't come because I thought you were doing research. I came…" He glanced back into the hall. The shadows dancing in the flickering violet made it difficult to tell if anyone else was in this crumbling place. He set aside that concern for the moment. "I came because I knew you were going to come here, to Feita. No one comes here, except for-"

"Except for… people who don't want to be found..." The cat was out of the bag. She could not lie anymore about this. "You're right. I came here looking for… the Arsonist Priest."

"Why?"

Because I'm scared. The words stuck in her throat. Once more, her stubborn pride bade her to lie. Her gaze was drawn to the flickering light, biding time to formulate her lie. Dark, light, dark, light.

And then a shape; the shape of a man. She gasped and slid as far into the wall as far as she could. Elsword saw her terrified stare and spun around, sword drawn.

There was indeed a man there, his face hidden beneath a charred hood. His robes were like that of a priest, but was covered in soot and pocked with burn holes. Around his neck was an insignia in the shape of a bat, the same symbol left at that burnt out home.

This must be - no. This was the Arsonist Priest.

"Oh my… Visitors? Do forgive me, it is a mite chilly in here." From his hands, purple flames sprang to life and illuminated his face. Alien marks and symbols were drawn across it and his eyes glowed with a sinister, unworldly power. "Let me warm things up a bit."

Elsword sprung forward swiftly, sword raised. Two steps and he was almost upon the hooded man. The man clicked his tongue in irritation and vanished in a swirl of purple flames and a puff of smoke.

Elsword skidded to stop where he once stood. "How rude…" The voice seemed to come from the walls. Was he hiding? Or perhaps waiting? "Here I am trying to be a good host and you try to lop my head off! I might have to turn up the heat…"

Aisha saw a flash of flame out of the corner of her eye and saw the mad priest reappear just behind Elsword, dark flames already flashing in his hand. She wanted to shout, to warn Elsword, but the sight of those flames silenced her words. The only sounds she heard were the unholy screams of that elf and, like a banshee's song, she was paralyzed.

"Dark Burst…" He chanted, and a barrage of blackened fireballs shot from his hand. Elsword rolled to the side while spinning himself around, dodging the brunt of the attack and deflecting the rest with his sword. The flaming spheres dispersed on the steel, but some lingering flames licked his leg. He winced, but planted his feet and charged forward once again.

"Assault Slash!"

"Whoa!" Once again, the serial arsonist disappeared and Elsword missed.

But rather than stopping, Elsword used his momentum to sprint to the shaken Aisha and grabbed her wrist. "Aisha! We need to get out of here! Come on!"

She let him pull her to her feet and somehow found the strength to keep herself from collapsing. They ran for the stairs but the hooded figure appeared further down, blocking their path. "Leaving so soon? But you have only just arrived. Here, breathe and relax. Poisonous Cloud…"

Aisha could not even begin to voice her annoyance at how hypocritical that statement was. A cloud of violet mist rushed from the man and engulfed the staircase and slowly crept up towards her and Elsword.

Elsword clicked his tongue. "Dang it… This way!" He pulled her down the hall, easily outrunning the venomous cloud. They fled into what appeared to be a storage room for religious artifacts. Only the artifacts were either destroyed or missing. There were a few places to hide, like behind some overturned furniture or under a pile of fallen shingles.

They both knew they were out of their depth here. Aisha was still struggling with her budding pyrophobia, and Elsword could not both protect her and defeat this enemy. Their only option was to escape, but once again Aisha's condition was making that difficult.

The young mage cursed herself for getting them in this bind. If she hadnt been so stubborn, so stupid, maybe they would be back in Velder. Maybe she would be getting proper treatment. Maybe Elsword would be training. Maybe they wouldn't be here, being hunted by a madman! The screams kept ringing in her ears, adding to the splitting noise in her head.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why are you so stupid, Aisha? Why?! Why must you be so—A hand on her shoulder pulled her back to reality. Elsword was looking at the doorway, sword in hand, his other on her shoulder.

Without looking at her, he said, "Don't worry. I'll get us out of here, Aisha." A simple reassurance, yet strangely… effective. The weight in his hand, the stillness of his stance, all of it gave such a simple phrase power. Power to, for the moment, smother the screams in her head.

Her mind cleared, she began to piece some details together. The first spell that man used appeared to be similar to her own Chain Burst spell, but it combined the usual fire magic with something dark. Maybe even demonic. But still, it seemed that at least some of the Arsonist Priest's magic drew on principles she herself practiced.

And when it came to basics, she was the best mage around. She was the Magic Prodigy! If she could observe more of his magical repertoire—without getting killed in the process, of course—she could find the proper spells to counteract his magic and give them an edge. The problem was the Arsonist Priest's pyrophilic tendencies and Aisha's aversion to it.

She knew that if she tried to watch the madman cast magic she would instead suffer another episode. That made her first plan inadvisable, if not impossible to carry out. But there was always another way. If this man was a mage of any caliber, he had to keep a record of his magic somewhere.

All they had to do was find it. Easier said than done, naturally, but a far more feasible plan than giving herself a panic attack trying to watch him.

"Elsword…" She set her hand on his, and he turned his attention to her. "If I can get a better idea of what kind of magic this guy is using, I can counter his spells with my own and we can work together to bring him down."

He looked skeptical, but it was the most intelligent thing she said thus far on their trip here. "Okay. How do we do that? Cause I'm not comfortable letting him shoot dark fire at me while you take notes."

"Wasn't planning on it, dork. He should have a tome or something similar around here somewhere. If we can find that, I can read his entire skill set and build a strategy off that."

Elsword nodded. "Alright, but I don't think he's going to just let us look around for it. Also, what if he's carrying it on him?"

Stupid Aisha! Why didn't you think of that?! Of course that was a possibility! And, of course, like a stupid idiot she did not consider it. Well, maybe he had it stashed in that room down the—

"Now… where did you all run off to?" Their breaths stilled and they crouched behind a ruined desk. He was still out in the hall, and the flicker of dark flames reflected off the walls. He was coming closer.

Elsword grit his teeth. "Aisha. I'll distract him. You find that book, and then we leave. Got it?"

Was he crazy?! The guy was capable of teleportation and who knows what else. This was the worst kind of opponent to face for the young knight. She grabbed his wrist. "Are you dense, ElMoron?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

He yanked his limb from her grasp, not even acknowledging the insulting name. "How else are you going to have time to look for the damn book? Besides, if he has it on him, we'll know right away."

She didn't like this. Not one bit. She already gave her mentor a psychotic episode because of her stubbornness. She didn't want Elsword to die, or even get hurt, because of it, too. This whole idea was stupid. This entire situation was stupid!

She was stupid to have thought she was ready for anything outside of the archives!

The flicker of dark flames growing closer snapped her back to reality. There was nothing she could do about what had already occurred. She had to focus on the present and choose how to get out of this predicament alive. But her choices were limited, and unfortunately they were either risk both of them being burned alive or just one being burned alive.

"... Fine… Please, be careful, Elsword." The words hurt to say. Guilt, shame and fear sharpened them until they were needles passing through her throat. But she could not take them back. She had to commit herself to finding that book!

Elsword nodded, readying his sword. "Alright, Aisha. I'll make a path for you to the next room. Find that book!" She nodded back, and he set his gaze forward and waited a breath before leaping over the desk and towards the doorway. "Hey! Spiral Blast!"

As he approached the doorway, he grinded his blade along the stone floor and flung the resulting sparks so hard that they manifested into a sharp explosion, demolishing one of the walls. While she saw the telltale flash of dark fire indicating the Arsonist Priest teleported again, she did see some of those sparks connect.

She also noted the lack of a tome on his person. He did not have the book on him.

He reappeared behind Elsword again. "You're a feisty one! Dark—"

"I don't think so!" The man tried to fire another barrage of fireballs at the Lord Knight, but a foot kicked for his head at lightning speed, forcing the Arsonist Priest to stagger backwards to avoid it. Elsword gave him little time to get his bearings. He charged forward again and began to swing his sword wildly.

The man once again disappeared in a puff of flames and smoke. Elsword had his attention now, so Aisha made a break for the hole in the wall. She stumbled into the hallway unchallenged and sprinted for the next room as the sound of Elsword's shouting and rushing flames resounded behind her.

The next room was much different than the storage room next door. The room must have been a clergyman's private quarters, but it had been converted into some kind of ritual site. The furniture was either broken on the walls or burned to ash to make room for a large, sinister looking magic circle carved into the floor. Alien symbols glowed violet and hissed with an unnatural power.

Were she not in mortal peril at the moment, Aisha would have loved nothing more than to get down on her knees, notes in hand, and decipher it all. But she had a job to do, and it had nothing to do with her curiosity.

She darted around the room, throwing stones and ruined wood about, searching for the tome. If this was some kind of ritual site, the book had to be nearby. A makeshift altar at the back of the room caught her eye and she ran to it.

It looked like an altar made in reverence to some kind of… god? No. What kind of god took pictures of young, scantily clad girls torn from ElPeeps as offerings? Maybe the guy was just a pervert and the whole dark fueled magic was a product of that sick pastime. Or perhaps he was truly mad and the dark powers he communed with demanded such offerings, as strange as it might be.

She shook her head to focus. At the foot of the altar, she found what she was looking for: a worn book. The cover was decorated with the skull of a bat and the spine was decorated with bat wings. She quickly picked it up off the floor and flipped it open to a random page.

It was filled with gibberish and more of those alien symbols. She snapped it closed. She found it. Now to get back to Elsword and get out of this place!

She ran back to the hallway just in time to see Elsword deflect a dark ball of fire. "Elsword! I got it! Let's go!"

"Alright!" He turned to face the psychopath and brought his sword to his side. The blade glowed faintly with the power of the El and a breeze flowed around it. The man took his pause as a chance to cast a spell.

"Dark Burst!" Again, an avalanche of dark fire balls rushed towards the boy, but he stood his ground.

The breeze around Elsword grew into a small storm and he swung towards the oncoming attack, stepping into his swing. "Sandstorm!" The wind storm burst into a raging gale and rushed down the hall, dispersing the balls of flame and forcing the Arsonist Priest to teleport out of the way.

Having an opening, Elsword spun around and grabbed Aisha's wrist. Together they made a break down the hall. The staircase was still covered in noxious gas, so they had no choice but to run down the hall. They weren't sure if there was a way out this way, but it was their only route for the time being.

Following the hallway, they saw another staircase at the end. The pair sprinted for the staircase, but the mad priest appeared in a flash of fire in front of them. "You nearly blinded me with all that dust you kicked up, boy. I'm really starting to get annoyed!" He said as he rubbed his eyes clean. "Hell Drop!"

This spell confirmed Aisha's suspicions of his connections to the darkness. Unlike his previous spells that spewed poison gas and fire balls imbued with dark energy, this spell conjured a bizarre magic circle in the shape of a fat bat that hovered in the air. And then it darted towards them, dropping dense masses of dark energy like bombs.

They couldn't evade the attack in the hallway, so Elsword kicked down a door next to them, shoved Aisha inside and dove in right after her. The attack missed them both, but now they were trapped as the magic circle hovered just over the door outside. There was no other way out of this room and the only exit was now covered by a magic bomber. Inside with them were several corpses, likely other victims that stumbled upon this place.

Aisha forced down a ball of vomit, looking at Elword in a panic. "Where do we go from here?! There's no other way out!"

He pulled her over the bodies towards a closet in the corner. He yanked open the door and shoved her inside. She tried to say something, but he pressed a finger to his lips, a sign to remain quiet. "Aisha, I need you to trust me. Can you do that for me?"

She stared at him, terrified. What was he thinking? Was he going to lock her in here and face down the sorcerer alone? That was crazy! Now was not the time to be a hero! But the weight of her mounting hysteria, the sight of the corpses, and her guilt ridden heart kept words down.

She could not say a word.

The Arsonist Priest approached the doorway cautiously. Last time he was taken off guard by that kid knight and almost paid for his carelessness with his bowels strewn about. And then he nearly tore him to pieces with that windstorm he threw down the hall.

The girl that was with him appeared to be some kind of mage. One with a fear of fire. He sneered at the thought of her terrified expression when he found them and conjured his oh so sweet flames. He saw those gazes everytime he made his offerings to his master. The same ones that filled with tears as the flames ate their flesh and turned their marrow to ash.

How it pleased him to know that his master would feed not just on their souls, but their terror as well. And this one was afraid. So very afraid. He was nearly at the door now, his Hell Drop magic circle floating silently outside it. He heard the sounds of movement inside and the shutting of a door.

Were they perhaps barricading themselves in something? How quaint! As much as he wanted to make a show of their deaths, that knight was more clever than he appeared. He may attempt another surprise attack if he drew closer. It would be best he stay away from the door if possible, as the wall was more solid the further it was from it. He could use Poisonous Cloud to fill the room with noxious gas. It would kill them in time, and their suffering would please his master.

But, more than anything, he wanted to hear them scream. To know that their final moments were filled with naught but agony and fear. This was why he loved fire. It made even the hardiest of souls wail in misery. He had heard it from everything: humans, dwarves, elves, anything. Everything screamed when it burned.

And he wanted screams. So he conjured a ball of his precious flames in his hand and tossed it around the corner. The flames ate away at the floor and began to burn it down. He heard hissing, popping and crackling.

And then finally, their screams...

If death had a face, this could certainly pass off as such. The round, boney snout with a mouth filled with sword-like teeth. Hungry flames leaked from the nostrils and the mouth, and the empty, crimson eyes stared at the elf and her… "partner."

The risen dragon stepped from its bed of stone and slowly advanced towards them. The Lizardmen parted before it and bowed their heads to the floor. This was not just a ritual, Rena realized. It was an offering. They were the offering. She reached out to any spirit that could hear her to plead for aid.

But her heart fell when she heard nothing in answer. Not even a quiet tinkle of apology. Nothing. The spirits had fled this place, leaving her to face her death alone. Well, not exactly alone with Demon next to her, but she would rather pass from this world in different company.

She stared at the monstrous creature, forgoing any attempt to feign unconsciousness. It would not matter; the risen dragon was hungry and was unlikely to be picky about the state of its meal.

The blood caked on the rock below her all made sense now. They were not the first to be offered. Who knows how many were fed to this monster? But she knew they would not be the last.

If her first leg was not injured and the other broken, she would have been able to cut her bindings and fled. But fate, as it seemed, desired for her to die here. She could feel the wound in her leg pulse painfully and the bones in her other agonizingly creak as the broken pieces rubbed together.

She had almost burst into tears the day Demon held her at blade point in Ruben Forest. Back then, she was burdened by the anguish of losing her friends. Now, all she had was a burning frustration in the face of death. She would not be the one to end the man who took their lives, the man next to her. He was so close, close enough for her to reach out and drive an arrow through his throat! And she was unable to carry out the task.

Whoever the monster chose as its first meal, she would lose. If it chose her, she would be dead. And the dead could not avenge the past. If it chose Demon, the dragon would end him, not her. This frustration burned hot enough to stay her tears as she stared defiantly at the draconic monster. It stepped closer.

And closer.

And closer.

And closer.

It now stood before them, its head hanging above the duo looking down upon them. Was it debating which to feed on first? Should it feast on the sweet, ripe meat of a young elf first? Or perhaps begin with the gamey human with the strange twitching arm?

Rena paused at that last thought. She took a closer look at Demon's arm: it was twitching erratically. This entire time, the limb had been dormant and slack. Now it was snapping this way and that as though possessed. Perhaps it was aware of the current predicament. Perhaps it was afraid.

Or perhaps it was excited.

A battle cry roared from the cavern entrance and all inside, even the dragon, turned to see the newcomer. Rena's breath caught in her throat, her head snapping back to the unconscious man at her side. He was still there, out cold.

She looked back to the entrance, still bewildered at the newcomer's appearance. If not for the fact that Demon was still at her side unconscious she would have believed that he stood there, in the entrance, now. But where he would have obtained this black, gothic armor she had no idea.

The man standing at the entrance was covered from head to toe in that armor, his eyes covered by a six-eyed mask. Unlike Demon, his hair was jet black through and through, no white streak to speak of. Wings of back and red steel feathers unfurled from his back, and in his right hand was a terrifying, two-handed blade.

But most bizarre of all was his left arm. If looked shockingly similar to Demon's. Almost an exact replica! But there was something… off about it. It looked more like part of the armor, angular, gothic. Not like Demon's organic, yet synthetic limb.

The man appeared to be catching his breath, like he had run a marathon to get here. But he didn't spend much time idling. He looked past the Lizardmen, the dragon, and, she realized, her.

He was looking at Demon. Demon's arm continued to twitch about erratically, and the man lowered his gaze to it, grinning. Then Rena's life flashed before her eyes as he vanished from sight and appeared in front of her, claw outstretched and blade poised to cleave. He was going to go through her. She nearly shouted in surprise.

And then a shadow appeared above and the man leaped to side in time to avoid a bony foot trying to stomp on him. Rena looked up and saw the bone dragon moving between them and the intruder and it let out a mighty roar that shook the cavern.

She knew what was happening: the dragon saw this intruder as a competitor for its food. And it would not stand for him to take that from it. The man roared back, and the dragon roared again. The Lizardmen were starting to panic, and the shaman at other end began motioning to its brethren to surround the intruder.

And then a sensation passed though Rena, one she was beginning to become quite accustomed to. The charged, heavy air, the held breaths, and the world seemingly coming to a crawl.

A fight was about to break out.

And she would be in the middle of it.

Chung was used to escort missions. After all, he was assigned one of the longest ones ever: escorting the Nasod Queen, Eve, wherever she went. While his day-to-day activities with the Nasod required his utmost attention—mostly due to Eve attempting to give him a haircut if his focus lapsed for even a moment—it was a relatively safe assignment. Never during his mission did he feel as though he and his charge were in any real danger.

Since Eve was a foreign leader, she was already under heavy protection wherever she went. He was merely the last line of defense. But the elves did not seem particularly keen on offing the Code Empress, so he never saw any action. In fact, ever since he completed his training, Chung had never seen real combat. He knew his father saw to that.

When his father returned home from the Demon War, he was too young to remember. But the word was he did not come home the same man as he left. Chung knew of what his father endured in that conflict. His father was captured and corrupted by the demons, then turned loose against his former allies. While the combined efforts of the humans and elves were able to free him of the demonic possession, it came at a great cost.

Hundreds if not thousands of soldiers were killed by his hand. Denka, a good friend of his, told Chung once when he was beside himself with drink, "The first thing he said when he was freed was this. How many?" The Iron Paladin could not even begin to fathom the guilt that weighed upon his father's shoulders since then. If he was not in the office signing papers and issuing orders, he was in the barracks training. If not there, he was at the memorial, silently staring at the graves. Chung did not even remember him ever coming home, except for his birthday.

Not that there was much of a home to come to by the time he was old enough to hold a spear and not teeter over. His mother died years ago to a deadly affliction. The doctors said it was cancer. The neighbors said it was loneliness. Whatever it was, she was gone.

He remembered standing at her grave next to him, and how he did not weep. He remembered asking him why he did not cry for her through tears and snot. He said he had no more tears to shed, that he had cried himself dry already. He said he still loved her, and that he would miss her terribly, but he could no longer cry. Chung always admired his father for his strength. Maybe it started there on that cloudy day. He wanted to be like him, to be strong. So that no one had to cry anymore.

Everyone could be like him if he could protect them and what they loved. That was why he enlisted against his father's wishes. That was why he endured hellish training meant to break him and send him to the safety of an empty home. That was why he never slacked on his practice every day. That was why he endured these assignments.

Because he knew his father would do just that and more. So he would see this mission through, just like all the others. And the Fahrmann ambassadors seemed to lack Eve's hair cutting tendencies, making the ordeal at least slightly less dangerous to his locks. He worked hard to grow it out!

"Sir Chung, thank you again," came Ara's voice. She and her brother, Ambassador Aren, rode just behind him on the ancient phoru mounts provided to them by the Alliance. Chung was just ahead of them, his cannon slung onto the saddle behind him.

He turned to face the foreign pair with a small smile. "Of course, Miss Haan. But I am a bit curious... Why did you pick me of all people? And only me?"

Ara looked to her brother anxiously. He seemed to collect himself for a moment before answering. "Let's just say that we feel that the Alliance is not… exactly friends with us at the moment. We are not enemies, but they do not seem to be our friends. Ara suggested we request you as she is a good judge of character… Most of the time…" He ignored her pouting face.

"I see…" He turned back around and focused on the forest road ahead. The journey to the ferry and the boat ride itself were uneventful, unless you counted the time Ara got stuck on her mount's saddle, twice, or the time she nearly fell overboard on the ferry. He was starting to wonder how someone of her… finesse could be considered a bodyguard for someone like an ambassador. Maybe it was a family thing? He was not familiar with Fahrmann customs.

Regardless of Ara's mishaps, the trio was now entering the final leg of their journey to Fahrmann. Chung could see the mountains that served as the border between the Senance Kingdom and the Fahrmann region to the north. It would not be long now.

Then he felt it. Heard it.

Nothing.

The birds stopped chirping, insects stopped buzzing, and the mounts looked to the sky nervously.

"... Ara…" Aren whispered.

"..." She said nothing in answer, but Chung saw her demeanor change out of the corner of his eye. Her orange eyes narrowed and scanned the trees closely. One hand was already holding her unslung spear. Aren had drawn his saber and was on high alert.

He, too, unfastened his weapon and brought it to the ready. Of course, something would happen just before they reached their destination. Just like in all those stories he read as a child. He saw a shadow dart into the leafy canopy a short distance away.

"How many?"

"... Four… Maybe five…"

"Let's make haste to the border. The guards there can help us."

"Exactly what I was thinking, Ambassador Haan…"

He then heard a breath, and then saw it. A green flash in the treetops.

"Go!" He shouted, leaping from his mount's back as the Fahrmann siblings kicked their mounts into a gallop. His swift action blocked an arrow of jade wind from striking the ambassador, and he heard the assailants leap ahead to keep pace.

It seemed he was going to see some action after all...

I hope this was worth the wait! Please Read and Review!