“Why did you do it?”

Anais was sitting in a chair across from Gwyn. Gwyn had had her magic binded, and Anais and her wolf were the only ones allowed into the room. Hours had passed, and Anais could only skirt around the issue for so long.

Gwyn looked down at the floor. “It’s difficult to explain.”

Anais scooted her chair forward and put her hand on top of Gwyn’s. “The one thing I learned from my accident is that it never hurts to talk. It can help you put a perspective on so many situations.”

Gwyn let out a sigh. “... I suppose it started up north. Ivy and I had originally been assigned to work under Lady Sickleson, but she had me assigned to work for the Gilded Court within a week. She said I had a sharp eye for details, and that my skills would be wasted if I settled for anything less than a woman of the court.

At first, I found myself surrounded by older men who viewed me as nothing more than candy come to play, but Duke Sickleson treated me as he did all the other court assistants. I worked long hours studying law so I wouldn’t fall behind on the other assistant conversations, and I actually began to see myself enjoying watching the political process in person.

… But then I returned here, and my newly found pride had to be swallowed. I knew that Tish was illegally administering magic to Vex, but I didn’t want to betray his trust. I was too busy holding onto the scraps of our friendship as they frayed and fell apart between my fingers.

I couldn’t take it anymore, Anais. I knew that there was another way to go about it, but I wanted to forge a place for myself in this world. I don’t have to save everyone, but if I could just save Vex… It’d be enough. I knew it would be enough.”

Anais waited patiently for Gwyn to speak. Gwyn was never one to speak more than necessary or to elaborate on her feelings. She knew that if Gwyn was being this open with her now, that meant that Anais was someone truly special to her. A very close friend.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said as she squeezed onto Gwyn’s hand again. “Alton won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

As though the mere mention of his name was enough to conjure him, Alton knocked on the door. He nodded at Anais when she opened the door. “I need to talk with her alone. Can you try to calm Ivy down? She’s been yelling at Highland for the past hour in the dueling field, and it’s starting to get late.”

“Of course,” replied Anais. “I’ll be back later, Gwyn. We’ll have some tea with Ivy, okay?”

“Thank you, Anais.” Gwyn watched as Alton closed the door behind Anais and her wolf. “About the terms of my expulsion, I was-”

“You know,” interrupted Alton, “I actually had this huge monologue first before I told you that you were going to be expelled, and-”

“Is Shaw not going to do this with you?” Gwyn interrupted Alton before he could start his rant.

Alton rubbed the back of his head. “He informed the third years that he was planning on leaving in the morning and they dragged him out to Tilrey for a night of drinking.”

This was the last opportunity for many of them to see Shaw. With the war going on, it was unlikely that the prince planned on returning at all. The rest of them were facing early graduation and conscription. They had, much to Alton’s dismay, taken Zaniyah and Chickadee with them.

Gwyn nodded her head slowly. “That’s fine.” She gestured for Alton to continue. “You may go on with your monologue now.”

He stared at her with a look of utmost scrutiny before continuing. “When I was thirteen, I was made captain of a squad of four girls.”

“Oh? So you’ve been a playboy for quite a few years now?” Gwyn asked.

“I’ve been through a lot today, Gwyn, I really don’t need your sass now,” retorted Alton. She gestured for him to continue again. “The only thing those girls cared about was status. They were in the program to find their future husbands. That obsession of theirs is what got them kicked out of the squire program.”

“That was some time ago… Can you say that they are not happy now?”

Alton fumbled his hands together. “I recently got a letter from one saying that she recently gave birth to a daughter, and she thanked me for giving her a love for music. I can’t say for certain if she is happy, but she is out there living the life she said she wanted.

Look, my point is that I thought that you and Ivy were going to be like my old squadmates. Girls that don’t care about the work they have to do… But you two got into Braytons on your own merits. The reason I’ve been so hard on you is because I don’t want to see you give up and go down the same path as them. You’re more than just Shaw’s girlfriend.”

Gwyn’s expression hadn’t changed. “Thank you, Alton. I will take your words into consideration.”

Something about her face told him that she wouldn’t be. “Right…” He stood up and offered his hand. “Shaw and Zan are taking you with them to Fogbloom. No matter what you decide to do, best of luck.”

Gwyn stood up and shook Alton’s hand. “It certainly has been an experience.”

She could’ve said that it was a pleasure, or that it was a valuable use of her time, but no. Gwyn had to go ahead and say that it was, “an experience.” Alton’s lip twitched as he fought off the urge to sneer.

“Right.” He pulled his hand away. “Anyways. Have a good life,” he said with a salute. “I’ve got one last present before I go.”

Alton went to the door, opened it, and yanked in a sputtering Veximarl by the elbow. He flailed about as he attempted to regain his balance. His eyes widened as he saw Gwyn sit back down in her chair.

“Make it count,” whispered Alton.

“This is hardly appropriate,” replied Veximarl as he straightened his jacket. Alton roughly shoved him towards Gwyn and quickly exited the room. “... Honestly, he has no right to meddle in my affairs.”

Gwyn crossed her legs. “Were you only planning to stand there and fret or was there an actual purpose to this visit?”

Veximarl stood there, fretting. “... I suppose I should start from the beginning.”

“If that is what you desire,” replied Gwyn.

Though she had invited him to speak, Veximarl remained nervously distant. “I am Veximarl Tufaylton Fogbloom, of the Fogbloom family. My father was Erskine Fogbloom and my mother is the goddess Tria.”

“Are you certain that she was truly Tria and not some swamp hag claiming that title?”

“Well, my father murdered her physical form, and then a would-be tried to devour her soul…” Veximarl’s voice drifted off for a moment. “It’s all rather complicated to explain, but she is recovering.”

Gwyn slowly nodded to herself as she tried to rationalize what he was saying.

“I understand that the realization that I am a necromancer of noble descent might be a bit much, but I wanted you to know everything that Tish knew.”

Gwyn’s eyes met with his. “Last winter, Anais noticed an open window in the dorms during a party and overheard you discussing your worries with Miss Twist. Specifically those concerning your nature and of your fears of the season. I regret to inform you that she asked both myself and Ivy for our opinions about it in Carapace, and we decided that it was best left as an issue ignored. Your privacy is what mattered most.”

Veximarl had a panic attack during Tria’s feast day celebration, and Sybil had been the one to hear him out. He hadn’t realized that anyone had overheard him at the time, but Tish had informed him last summer that both she and Alton had overheard them. Them and now Anais.

A part of the agreement he had with Lady Till was that he needed to keep his true nature secret. Now, it seemed like everyone knew and that Veximarl’s stay at Braytons was soon to come to an end. “A-ah, I see.”

Gwyn’s usually cold expression softened for the briefest of moments. “Turn around.”

Veximarl shielded his face with his hand. “... Apologies.”

“It has nothing to do with your face,” said Gwyn as she stood up. She moved behind him and thunked her forehead in between his shoulder blades. Her hand grasped lightly onto the side of his jacket.

“... Gwyn,” whispered Veximarl.

“We’re going to have a fight, aren’t we?”

“I had the situation handled,” he retorted.

“If it’s true that Miss Maplehammer was working for people in Grand Temple, and against the interests of these barracks…” She shook her head. “You were in over your head.”

“Tish was a victim. Now that she’s been exposed, I fear that she is not long for this world.”

Gwyn’s grip tightened on his jacket. “And what will Grand Temple do once they learn that these barracks have been harboring not only a necromancer, but the son of Tria?”

“That isn’t going to happen because Tish would never betray me.”

“If that is the case, then you needn’t worry at all. A woman of her talents should have no trouble surviving out there on her own.”

“Gwyn,” spat out Veximarl in a harsh tone.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to spend our last moments together having an argument.”

Last moments. The words sunk into Veximarl’s thoughts and formed a painful lump in his throat. Helplessness began to weigh against his chest. “I regret to inform you that I am having trouble coming up with anything impactful at this moment. I am simply too upset with you right now.”

“My wish is that time will help heal these wounds and give you perspective to what happened today. There’s going to be a time in the future when you do turn into a great man, Vex. You’ll be the inspiration for so many wonderful people.”

This truly was it, wasn’t it? Veximarl wanted to say something, anything nice, but he couldn’t muster the words. Surely, Shaw wouldn’t abandon her. Gwyn would end up with a nice, stable life in Fogbloom. The one she had originally been set on, before Veximarl stuck his dumb nose into her business.

“... Ah, well,” he began. “You have many skills and talents, Gwyn. I hope that you will not settle for something less than what you are worth.”

Gwyn closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. Veximarl’s jacket smelled faintly of Tish’s perfume and musk that old books had. She was hoping for something more, but this was Veximarl. He would always choose to say something practical instead of how he truly felt.

Honestly, it was draining. She didn’t want kind words or well wishes. Gwyn wanted to be yelled at. She wanted to yell back, and shout, and scream that he had been a fool, and a victim, and whatever else was wrong with him. Right now, she wanted to grit her teeth, stamp the floor, and say that she didn’t want to leave this place and how she needed to be comforted because of how terrified she was.

But all she did was sigh.

“I have my Beloved with me. As long as I have him, I’ll be fine.”

And that was somehow everything that Veximarl needed to hear. He took a step away from Gwyn, and felt her presence leave her back. “... I’ll be on my way now,” he whispered.

He couldn’t bear to turn around at that moment. Every fiber in his being was telling him to let out all of his frustrations. To shout at Gwyn and call her a heartless fool who had signed Tish’s death warrant.

His steps towards the door were slow. Veximarl knew he didn’t deserve to be in the same room as Gwyn at that moment. He had realized that all of his worries had been about Tish at that moment, and there had been little room in his mind for anything involving Gwyn. All he was doing was wasting her time.

On his way across the courtyard, he passed Ivy and Anais. Ivy tossed him a harsh glare while Anais hesitated for a moment. It looked as though she were about to try to get his attention and say something, but she changed her mind and hastened her steps to catch up with Ivy.

Is this what it was all going to boil down to? A split barracks? Macestar certainly had every reason to hate him. His squad will no doubt wish for him to be gone once they find out how complacent he was with Tish’s plans.

Veximarl paused and looked around at the barracks. For the briefest of moments, it was a completely foreign place to him. A location where he dared not belong. He needed to take a step back and think about the situation with a clear mind. Perhaps it were better for everyone if he ended his stay here.

And the one thing he needed was the one thing that he had carelessly chased away. Someone he could talk to about his worries. Everyone in his life was disappearing, one by one.

Veximarl opened the door to the squadroom and was surprised to see that Alton wasn’t there. He strangely wasn’t waiting outside Gwyn’s room either. It made Veximarl wonder if Alton had gone to talk to Tish or someone else.

He heard a faint rustle in the corner of the room as someone opened a drawer. His heart skipped a beat as a rush of hope swelled in his chest. In an instant, Veximarl had crossed the room and thrown back the curtain.

“Sybil!”

What greeted him was the sight of Fairy, kneeled on the floor and staring at him like he had just caught a thief. “... Uhm,” she whispered.

Veximarl had to take a breath to compose himself. “... Are you looking for something, Fairy?”

“Walter and Zani left for town, and they said I couldn’t join them,” replied Fairy. “Oh, and Millie said she was busy trying to get some boy’s attention.”

“But are you looking for something?” Veximarl repeated.

“Yes,” replied Fairy, just as quickly as before. “Caitlin said I couldn’t take most of my tools with me, and everything in the forge is rather… Well, it isn’t good for fine-tuning.” She smiled innocently. “And I had heard that Sybil was making golems here, so I thought that she would have something I could borrow?”

Veximarl reached over her shoulder and opened the top drawer. He got Sybil’s toolkit out and held it out for Fairy to take. “Will you be using them for long?”

Fairy took the toolkit and dipped her head to show that she was grateful. “Not really. I was making a necklace for Lady Till, to thank her for putting up with Walter and Millie. I know they can be a handful at times.” She set the toolkit down on Sybil’s table and unfurled it. “Ah, yes. These will work nicely.”

She reached behind her, and that’s when Veximarl noticed that she had a large back with her. Fairy grabbed another toolkit, but this one was full of thick ovals of glass, carefully organized by color and sheen. A black glass was selected, and Fairy began to rub it between her hands.

“I was going to go to Fogbloom, with Zani and Mister Shaw,” said Fairy as she melted and pulled off a bit of the glass. She returned the larger chunk to its pouch and continued to knead the piece between her fingers. “Since we’re leaving in the morning, I need to have this done by tonight.”

If he weren’t in such an ill mood, Veximarl would be fascinated by the process. “I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”

Maybe some light reading would help, or he could work on some lesson plans… Though Blu had informed him that he wasn’t needed for teaching any longer. Party due to him still needed to attend missions with his squad, and also because of the whole… Being brainwashed by Tish thing.

He realized that he still had a book of old hero myths checked out from the library. His original plan was to record any names that stuck out and see if their weapons may have been stored in the lower sections of Volo Refuge.

Though Chickadee may still be interested in the trip, Zaniyah wouldn’t be going, and Alton’s mood was soured. Then there was Baron Squad, who was now broken due to his irresponsibility. Veximarl leaned over his desk and let out a sigh.

Strangely, the final nail was hammered in by subtle sounds of Fairy working in Sybil’s corner. That hit of nostalgia struck Veximarl with a mix of worry and regret. Tish was a victim, she needed protection, but his carelessness had cost Veximarl his trust and friendship with so many others.

“Uhm… I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

Veximarl glanced over to Fairy. She had her bag strapped to her shoulder and was keeping her distance from him. “You honestly aren’t a bother,” he replied as he retrieved a handkerchief from his inner pocket. His eyes were bothering him. Somehow, they had become awfully wet.

Fairy chewed on her lower lip. “It’s just that there’s a lot of wood in here and Caitlin always yells at me for playing with molten glass around flammable objects, and working next to a curtain and on a wooden table is just asking for trouble. I’ll just go to the forge for now and return Sybil’s tools in the morning.”

“Ah,” said Veximarl with a slow nod. “Yes, thank you. Have a good night, Miss Fairy.”

He rubbed at his eyes more firmly as Fairy walked out of the room. Veximarl had a long time to think about it, and he had finally stumbled upon the flaw in his logic. Putting your life on the line every time your friends are in danger doesn’t succeed in protecting anyone.

Tish, Gwyn, Sybil, he had failed the most important people in his life, along with his squad, and all of his peers. Veximarl drug around his desk for some ink and paper. There had to be a way to fix this. Something, or anything. He was going to find a way for everyone to be happy in the end, and Veximarl was going to make one last bet on his life in order to achieve it.