“..ye. Rye! She is with us again. Thank the gods, she’s back.”

My eyes opened blearily, the worried face of Avice popping into a fuzzy double vision.

“Looks like that was enough salve then.” A croaky voice that I only put down as belonging to Ritz after some time responded.

I looked to my side. Dead bodies. Blood and mud everywhere.

I looked to the other side. Vinesse and Mog. No helmets. Breathing. Gods fucking bless.

“I feel like I could run a marathon.” I slurred.

“… maybe a bit too much salve.”

“It is the soul. Do you feel it?” I heard Avice say. “It is… this thing. A tingle. A pull. There is a word for it. Alcohol? A-addiction, I think?”

Ritz nodded. I nodded, too.

My shoulder hurts when I do that. Ow.

With a start, Vinesse came to as well. She heaved and grasped her chest, spitting out a mouthful of muck and blood. But that was all. Her skin looked deathly pale, she had the shivers and was breathing shallow, a pain in her chest.

Ritz immediately hurried over to her and patted her up and down for any open wounds to seal with Wyckwax. He himself was cut up pretty bad, the earthy-green balm generously applied over his entire body. A long, fresh scar twisted up his neck.

Daaamn, you look ripped, Ritz. Rugged-cool. Warrior against all odds, savior of your damsel! I’m on your side! Yeees. Check her up and down, Ritz. Gooo! Ask her if she is doing alright. Tell her you worry, tell her you love her now and forevermore. Carry her like a princess. Hold her hand! Do iiiiiit…

My romance-sense went off the charts as he gently helped her sit up, leaning against a wooden pew. Sadly, he did nothing more, simply offering his dirtied handkerchief like always.

That’s… that’s cool too. He should be more bold though. Take initiative. Mog too, maybe. When he comes to, at least.

She slowly batted it aside. My sudden and growing need for romantic interaction was nearly fulfilled by just that short interaction.

“I am fine, Ritz. Just… overstrained. Magic. I’ll be better in a week–”

He gently patted her mid-chest and she bit back half of her pained moan.

“Broken rib, one at least. You need to rest, Ma’am”

“Later. Ritz, R–report.”

“All accounted for and unwell.” He said with a sad smile. “Mog is unconscious. The heat. And the fumes. He’s pretty burnt. Rye has a broken clavicle. Had to use the last of the burn-juice on her. And my neck wound. I’m fine in case you asked. Never felt worse in my entire life.”

He paused, as if expecting a laugh from the crowd of unconscious or half-dead people.

“Also, Avice is fine. She only hurled three times after this entire debacle.”

“You could have not mentioned that.” She said, half muttered, half indignant, and wiped her mouth.

I think she’s making a point not to look at me. It’s not that bad, is it? Right? I feel so light, lightheaded. Tell me it’s ok, tell me.

But nobody told me anything.

“The healing water?”

“Got it right here.”

“And their leader?”

“Ran away, ma’am.”

“…Fuck.” Vinesse rasped tiredly, fighting to keep her eyes open. But oddly enough, she smiled. “Just like with that raiding whoreson Alabast in the old legion days. Shit was downright double-fucked.”

No one really said anything. No one really knew what she was talking about, besides that it must have been about her old life. She never talked about it. Less even than Mog.

After a round of silence, she stirred again. “Ritz, Light check.”

“Gained five bright, twelve dim for me. Think more for the rest. I get a third less, 'cause I’m already blessed with impeccable looks. Or it’s the boon.”

“The boon.” She nodded.

More silence. We all waited for something to happen. Someone to say something, anything.

“We have to move.” Vinesse tried to stand up. She failed and with a squish, she sat back down on the wet swampy ground. “They know where we are. They could come back.”

“I highly doubt it. I bet they don’t have the balls to show their faces anytime soon.” Ritz said with a forced smile. I chuckled, but Vinesse continued trying to stand.

“Ma’am? Ritz is correct. You require rest. We cannot possibly carry Moggen. Or Rye.”

Avice is right. I can’t possibly carry myself. How would that even work? It wouldn’t, that’s how.

And so, we sat there for some time, the quiet of the swamp accompanying the wait for the next bad thing to happen.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The worst thing that happened was how all the pain had the audacity to return way too soon. My skin was scarred over well enough but feeling two pieces of the same bone scratch against each other was a sensation that turned the walk back into somewhat of a haze.

Twang went the greatbow of the sentinel, killing something unimportant in the abyss below.

Oh. We’re there. Wow, that was quick. Also, how does that guy not run out of arrows?

I’d chalk it down to magic. Which was the same reason why we were all still in one piece. Literally and non–literally. Besides Toothy, the thugs hadn’t been exactly well equipped, but, well… they also almost killed us all. And me?

I’d like to believe I did good. I killed again. Actual, thinking people. But… I prefer that over stab wounds. In myself or my friends. In fact, isn’t it justified then? It’s not murder if they wanted to kill me around me first.

Preventative lethal self-defense isn’t bad. It’s… alright. And if anyone threatens me or my friends with violence I’ll, shank them.

So why do I feel dread mounting in my stomach? It’s not the pain. It’s not guilt. I think.

“Avice? What’s the point?” I asked.

“Of what?”

“Of everything. Why are we here? What’s our purpose? Why… why did murderers get to come back, get a second chance, get to have light just like us?”

She was silent for some time. “I don’t know.”

That was the worst answer of all. “Ritz?”

“No clue.”

“Mog?”

He just coughed something fierce and groaned, carried between Ritz and to a lesser extent Vinesse.

It can’t be. It just can’t be that no one knows why we’re here. It’s impossible.

“…Vinesse?”

She just stared ahead as we all somewhat helped each other stagger down the stairs. We arrived at the place where everyone besides me and Avice slept first. People were looking at us weirdly. Shrinking back. Whispering.

There was blood on Krah’s bedsheets. And the rest were burnt away. Moggen looked away and Vinesse…

I think that’s the face she makes when she’s trying to look tough. Poor Krah. He didn’t deserve it.

“Rye! Rye!” A young voice called out to my right. Half the group immediately pointed their weapons at Pim, who turned from alarmed to spooked. I waved them down and slumped to his level.

“What? What is–“

“Your friend! He’s, there were baddies, and then they said something to him and he hissed and they tried to kill him but he’s on the roof and he’s not come down ‘cause he’s blind you see and he can’t come down, you’ve got to help him.”

“Krah… Krah is alive?” Vinesse stepped forward, voice hoarse and breaking ever so slightly. “Where? How?” she asked as if he hadn’t just told her that.

But what he said was true. We, that is to say all of us, pushed ourselves up the stairs and on to the open walls of the first floor.

“Krah!” Vinesse yelled.

No answer.

“Krah!”

“L-let me.” Moggen said, and cleared a rough sounding throat. “KRAH!”

A very distant “Moggen!” was carried by the wind.

“KRAH! OVER HERE!”

“Moggen!”

“KRAH!”

“Moggen!”

That went on until the face of our Bekki companion gingerly poked over the side of the roof, eyes squinted shut, blood on his face. But otherwise, healthy.

“Krah. Y–“ Mog broke into a string of smoky coughs. “Come down here!”

“No!”

“Come down!”

“Can’t see. Am… am scared!”

Moggen swore, and that exchange went on for a while as well. It would have been a lot funnier if I wasn’t constantly in pain.

“I’ll – cough – I’ll catch you! Climb as far down as you can and then… then fall down right there!” Moggen breathed in and a number of vines anchored themselves to the floor and around his outstretched arms.

After a few moments, there was a blur. With a fwump, Moggen was holding a frazzled Krah in his arms. A hand under his shoulder, the other in the bend of his knees. Krah looked up at him, the face of a newborn kitten saved from horror and worse. Happiness. He hugged Moggen, who very much was leaning away, half groaning in discomfort from the burn wounds, half trying to evade the overly cuddly Bekki man.

He only eventually let go when Vinesse told him we had medicine for the blindness. He stood ramrod straight as she washed out his eyes and took stock of the injury. Moggen gave her a now much more cleaned flask of glass like clear crystal, holding it gently, almost reverently.

Within it, two drops of thick blue water jiggled around.

So that’s what it looks like. A long-necked phial with the emblem of our sun. Words formed into the glass as well. Monte sancto, sanctam aqua. Neat.

Carefully, she unstopped the bottle and poured the blobs of water onto her hand. One. Two. Like jelly, they kept their flattened drop-shape even on her skin.

“Now. No moving Krah. We’ll get you fixed.”

When the drops covered his eyes, they sunk into it like normal water into earth. Everyone held their breath. And then it was done. No shining light, no steam or fire. Just tears, many tears as Krah blinked and his eyes were clear and healed. He cried and went to hug us all in order.

Magic. No, a miracle. A true miracle. Gods bless. What a wholesome picture. Good. Great. We did great.

When he came to hug me, I hugged him back, immediately forgetting that I had a broken bone.

This is pain. Ow. But it’s a good kind. A happy one.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Avice had to help me clean my clothes and body, now that both arms were somewhat indisposed. Luckily, we hadn’t been in the swamp for too long and much of the stinking muck sloughed off easily enough.

When we were done, I had barely managed to carefully sit down near my bed when I saw Vinesse dragging the remains of her possessions over to our little corner.

“Uh…” I uhhhed.

“We’re sleeping together now.” She said with a completely straight face.

“Y–you? Me?”

“All of us.”

“O-oh. Ok. Make yourself at home.”

She nodded and soon enough, a smiling Ritz, a tired Mog and a way too happy Krah pulled their own blankets, knapsacks and whatnot on over.

It’s like a big sleepover. I remember spending the night in the attic in the barn. Me, Sam, Max and Cali, Eri and some other kids. We were young and there was a dry thunder outside. We told each other scary stories, one worse than the other.

I think I remember someone peeing themselves. Good memories. Good old times.

I want more.

“Gather around, everyone.” I heard Vinesse say, and we all turned to look at her. “From now on, we stick together. Always groups of two. We sleep with one person keeping watch. Don’t accept any drinks from anyone else.”

Most of us just looked on in confusion. She let out a short, exhausted breath.

“Those were people like everyone else here. We thought they were like us. We were wrong. We’re not in friendly territory anymore. They can ambush us again. We’re wounded. Weakened. We cannot afford to show vulnerability or opportunity. Anyone and everyone could be an enemy. And I will not endanger any of our group again.”

“Does that mean…”

“No more expeditions.”

Silence. Her words rang final like a hammer strike. I looked around. Moggen was busy smearing wyckwax all over his burn wounds. Ritz seemed tired, eyes barely open, but sitting at attention. Avice was scratching her cheek, eyes flitting nervously. Eventually, she took a bottle of water from her belongings and took a big swig.

“I… think that might not be the best approach.” She said. “Respectfully, Ma’am.”

Vinesse turned to her, just about as exhausted as the rest. But Avice meant business.

“Those thugs were, pardon the expression, grug-shit. If they had half a mind and ambushed us on our way out, half of us would be dead before the fight had started. And if a group of competent murderers, rapists and other scum were to fall upon us in our sleep, or even just at any other point, we would be hard pressed to all get out unharmed.”

“We’ve got Krah again. He’s our best fighter.” Vinesse countered.

“That may be so. But not in his sleep. How would he fare against the pale screaming spider-things? Against an archer? Against having his food or water poisoned?”

This time, Moggen spoke up. “We’ve got the most light out of everyone at the temple. Not by much, but we’re also a large enough group. And we’re well equipped. With boons and gear.”

Avice nodded. “Again, you speak the truth. But I would rather not see a hundred people skulking in the temple as our enemies.” She turned to look at me. “They do not have to be.”

“So, we should make friends?” I hedged.

“Allies.” Vinesse said. “Surround ourselves with rows of like-minded folk.”

She took a moment to think about it. The more she did, the more her cupped chin nodded to herself. “That could work. But why would they listen to us?”

“They would do well to listen because…” she leaned in close. “They will be in our debt. The Wolf is missing. People are exploring the catacombs, yes, but scant few go beyond the temple grounds. How many people here are starving, or lacking that, merely ravenously hungry? How many know to eat their own soul, or dare to, like Harris?”

Everyone listened close as she left us to stew in our own answers. I had mixed feelings of exploiting starving people. But we’d just be asking them to help us for helping them in return. That’s fine, isn’t it?

I for one would really like helping people.

“And what of the ones not lacking for food?” Vinesse asked.

“Then we help them with little things. Give out wyckwax for those in need. Sell loot for cheap. Promise protection. We will still have to find out what they actually desire, talk to them and make friendly conversation.”

“I… I think people would like that. Make the temple a friendlier place. Make it feel like a safe haven.” I said.

“Alright. Group vote. Do we make concerted effort to surround ourselves with allies?”

“I vote yay.” I said.

“As do I.” said Avice.

“Krah says no! People bad.”

“I say no as well.” Ritz said. “We don’t even know the first thing about most people here.”

“Excuse you, I know quite a few. Pim and Harris. Lohan and Stitches. Cloths, Riches, Hand-of-my-Daughter–“

“I vote yes.” Moggen said.

“T-then Krah says yes too!”

Vinesse wiped her forehead with a wet towel. “No changing votes Krah. As for me? I think Avice’ idea has merit.”

“Four to two.” I positively beamed at Avice, who shyly turned away, playing with some hair.

“That’s that. Wash up, then get some rest, everyone.”

People turned and staggered to a stand. Before I could take Avice with me to fetch some water, clean ourselves and ask what the heck she was putting in hers, Moggen scooted up to both of us.

“Avice.”

“Moggen.”

His voice sounded anything but healthy, rough like jagged rock.

“As… as per our bet, I will treat you and yours with respect. As such, Lady Avice, I thank you for protecting Vinesse in my stead.”

“Well. Good. That is… good. No title necessary though. Just call me Avice. Please.”

He nodded and turned his attention to me. “So, with you and yours, does that mean…”

“I’d appreciate if you could extend your goodwill to Rye here as well.”

“Very well. Lady Rye.”

I chuckled, the laugh cut short from the pain in my broken bone. “You said it first. Lady Rye it is. Now and forevermore.”

He smiled, a rare sight to see on his grumpy face. “You did earn it, both of you.”

His gaze lingered on my left shoulder. The part between it and the neck, where a large rent of scar tissue betrayed the burnsalve used to stitch me back together. And the swelling around me nape.

“I apologize for doubting either of you. If you require anything, I would be happy to share. I can offer balls of wyckwax, a silver mirror, dramatic hair remedy, ge–“

“Hair remedy!? Like the stuff Harris sells?” He nodded. “Yes! I mean, yes please. Some of that. For my hair.”

I took off my helmet and brushed over my short hair. It was really not a lot, barely having grown beyond a slight fuzz after six months.

Harris wasn’t lying when he said hair grew slowly.

“Help yourself.” He said and after a moment, I was slathering a pasty-green substance all over my noggin. I took a dab and applied it over my eyes, where my eyebrows used to be. But even after Mog took his own share for his burnt hair, he had a small bucket full of the stuff left.

“Hold on.” Avice said. She reached for her glassstone knife and grabbed her black mop of hair, before cutting it off. The blade was sharp like a razor, offering little resistance.

“Ah, one sec.” I said as she almost cut her ear. “I’ll help you. Doing it yourself is always harder than cutting someone else’s hair.”

She nodded and mumbled a thanks. “I… normally have people do my hair for me.”

“Who would’ve guessed. A noblewoman with servants.” Moggen said. The three of us chuckled, loud enough to get a stink eye from a not-so-asleep Vinesse.

“Oh?” I asked in a mock-posh tone. “Shall I cut thy hair as well, sir knight? A little shave perhaps? A trim around the edges?”

He shook his head, staring at the floor. “Still not a sir. Still not a knight.”

I turned Avice’ head towards him as I continued cutting. “There has to be a story behind that.”

“Nothing of interest.”

“I’d still like to hear it.” I turned her head upwards to look at me. “And you, Rye?”

“Ah. Well… I am impartial but intrigued.”

Mog let out a sigh and started to peel himself out of his armor. He winced at parts, some plates having burned him, some open places having allowed flames to sneak in.

“I was born to the Sir of Errin. Too small a place to be called a city, too large to be called a town. We didn’t even have walls.”

He looked up with distant eyes. He licked his lips after a long pause, as if not sure how to follow that up. “My father was of old nobility. Which as you, Rye, must know was in decline. The bureaucracy of the empire didn’t allow for it. I still followed that old path, the path of a traditional knight beholden to the land he governs, not the powers in Loften.”

“How’d it go?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Well. I had a demanding, but varied youth. I learned to write and read, to govern and to think with greater goals in mind. I learned to ride, both horse and… something I cannot remember.”

The next bit sounded hard for him to say. “I… I had a wife. Two children, too. But… but I can’t remember their faces.”

We knew what that meant, but his voice faltered. “I… I know I knew it. I remember telling Ritz before. I remember remembering. But, but now it’s gone.”

His gaze went down to his hands, turning them to face up, then down. He mumbled something and I put a hand on his arm.

“What’s wrong?”

“Fifty-seven-sixteen. My soul. My light. It’s… nearly the same as before.”

“That can’t be.” Avice said. “I gained nearly seven foot of bright light.”

“Same here.” I said. “Which means… means you lost some. Lost a lot.”

“The fire.” He said.

Of course. The fire. That wasn’t normal fire. Whatever it was, it ate at the soul. And Moggen, he was burnt like a torch for quite a while.

“Maybe we can help you remember.” I said. “Jog your memory. Do you remember when you were born or died, how old you were?”

“Twenty-three. He just stared ahead. “That’s… pretty much it. I wasn’t knighted yet, that I know for certain. My father was still alive when I… died… to a rot. Of the lungs, I think.”

I nearly slipped with Avice’ knife. He swallowed, staring ahead at something way in the distant.

He remembers how he died. What do I even say to that?

“Are… are you ok?”

He just waved it off. “Apologies. I didn’t intend to kill the mood.”

“If you need to talk… we’re here.” I offered with a sad smile.

He stared me in the eyes, face immovable, indiscernible.

“No. I do not require any help. Not from you. Not from anyone.”

My worry was still much too evident. It only incensed him to act even more insulted. “What’s done is done. I won’t falter from that much. And I still have to teach you how to wield a sword.”

Right. Beating me up in a variety of skillful and simple ways did kind of qualify as training.

“Once you’re all healed up, we can continue. Seriously, this time.”

I nodded and slathered the green remedy over Avice’ head.

Things are getting better. There’s still hurt, but it’s less bad with everyone around. But I still feel inadequate. I still have to get better. The sooner the better. I need to be able to go out again. I’ll be directly helping everyone that way.

I looked at Avice and she at me. Her face still betrayed a level of uncertainty, of timidness. Of the old Avice. Before… whatever happened.

It has to be a boon. It changed her. But if it can help her that much, then who’s to say it can’t help me as well?