BladeweaveR

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<<if $mentor == "Callen">>The door almost bursts open, and the sound of the thick wood hitting the stone wall behind it is like being punched in both ears at once. <<if $cautious > 50>>It's difficult not to flinch as your heart constricts in your chest. You'd heard the footsteps, but didn't expect the door to nearly come off its hinges like that.<<else>>You look on with a quiet alarm. You'd heard the footsteps, but didn't expect the door to nearly come off its hinges like that.<</if>> There stands Aunt Sonia--apparently still pale with rage--with her festival finery no longer living up to its namesake. Full of wrinkles with her formerly-pristine collar now askew, she looks as if she's been in a fight. You hesitate to think she //hasn't//. Her hands shake at her sides as she quickly moves towards you, dropping to a knee with a pained grunt and placing a cold hand on yours. You'd half expected her to have been crying, distraught as she was earlier, but the only colour around her eyes are the dark circles she gets when she doesn't sleep well. She doesn't say anything for a long while, and just flicks her gaze between you and Uncle Callen. "We couldn't find you for a moment there," she says finally, wrinkles around her eyes in what seems to be the closest thing to a smile she can manage. [[🦅+ Tentatively wrap your arms around her neck, settling in to a hug.|Chap2Scene161aSon][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]] [[🦅+ You manage to grin slightly, despite the circumstances. "Did you have your eyes closed?" (Sarcastic ++)|Chap2Scene161dSon][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[Move your hand from beneath hers. You're simply not comfortable with it right now.|Chap2Scene161bSon]] [[🦅- Wrench your hand from beneath hers. "You weren't looking very hard..."|Chap2Scene161cSon][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 1]]<<else>>The door creaks open softly, but the one who opened it steps through before it can go all the way. <<if $optimistic < 50>>A small, fearful part of you thinks that, for a moment, this is someone with bad intentions, and you stiffen in your seat. This fear is washed away when Uncle Callen's creased, exhausted expression comes into view. "Oh, finally," he sighs in relief, striding over as quickly as he can, rubbing his bandaged head.<<else>>You peer curiously at the door, trying to see who it is. Your patience is rewarded when Uncle Callen's creased, exhausted expression comes into view. "Oh, finally," he sighs in relief, striding over as quickly as he can, rubbing his bandaged head.<</if>> "I am so, so sorry, $callenChild," he says earnestly, eyes reddened, "it took so long t'get //out// of there and then to find ye ... I'm glad y'weren't alone," he sighs sadly, glancing at Archer, before putting his hands on your shoulders, his grip warm but loose. [[🐺+ This is just what you needed. Lean forward and let him hug you tight.|Chap2Scene161aCal][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]] [[🐺+ Lean forward and plant your forehead on his chest. It's not a hug, but you do want to be close. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene161bCal][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[Shuffle out of his grip. You don't feel comfortable with the contact right now.|Chap2Scene161cCal]] [[🐺- Shake him off. "We were alone."|Chap2Scene161dCal][$callenClose to $callenClose - 1]]<</if>>

//PRONOUN LIST// they theyF them their themCap themInformal theirs themself child callenChild callenChild2 person personFormal personFormal2 honorific honorific2 parentChild

$eyecolour $haircolour - pale blonde, golden blonde, ash blonde, dark blonde, strawberry blonde, coppery,red,auburn,chestnut brown, light brown, medium brown, deep brown, black $skintone - pale, rosy, warm, medium, olive, tanned, golden brown, light brown, medium brown, deep brown $hairtexture - straight, wavy, loosely curled, tightly curled, coiled

$patient (or impatient) $volatile (or calm) $optimistic (or pessimistic) $chivalrous (or dishonorable) $honesty (or liar) $stubborn (or yielding) $cautious (or confident) $cold (or warm) $sarcastic (or serious) $soniaClose $callenClose $alycClose $samClose $caitClose $lucasClose $taliaClose

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/i3Qlpb0.png"> <<nobr>> <<set $currentChapter = 2>><<set $samRelationship = 50>> <</nobr>>//9th of Igna, AR 1490 - Eight Years Old// //Forest, outskirts of Sola// <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"...Y'alright, $callenChild?" You wake with a start, gasping in shock at being so suddenly awoken. Any fear you might've otherwise had is instantly washed away as you remember your surroundings, and the person who stands above you. Kind grey eyes peer out from under a furrowed brow as Uncle Callen shifts closer to check on you. You're in the forest, what little of it remains in Sola, for outdoor training with Uncle Callen--you must've taken a midday nap, because it's still bright out, the midsummer sun's heat pleasantly wafted away by a soft, consistent breeze. Uncle Callen's wearing something different from his usual outfit--a light blue tunic over a thin shirt, the collar open to half-reveal a simple locket hanging around his neck. It becomes apparent that he is actually still waiting on an answer from you, so you offer a quick nod. "Dozed off for a bit, eh? Can't deny it's temptin', but y'didn't come out here to sleep, did ye?" You glance off to his side, at a small bow and quiver, half-full with blunted arrows, leaned against an old tree. Right--you'd forgotten //that//, too. Today's session is dedicated to archery, and you've been training for the past hour or so in the forest, trying to hit targets that Uncle Callen sets up. Archery isn't exactly a major focus of Bladeweavers, something you were once made well aware of when you'd watched Aunt Sonia try to handle a bow--it seems she's built to handle a sword, but not much else. The back door of your home still has a dent from the arrowhead in it. [[It's really nothing that exciting to you, and you voice your distaste for archery as you have before.|Chap2Scene2Cal][$chap2Archery to "dislikeVocal"]] [[It's really nothing that exciting to you, but you've kept quiet on your dislike for archery for a while now, content to keep learning it if Uncle Callen deems it necessary to learn.|Chap2Scene2Cal][$chap2Archery to "dislikeQuiet"]] [[You love coming out here to practise archery. There's just something so satisfying about being able to hit such far-away targets, and you elect to voice your love of it.|Chap2Scene2Cal][$chap2Archery to "likeVocal"]] [[You love coming out here to practise archery. There's just something so satisfying about being able to hit such far-away targets, but you elect to keep quiet in the event that you're given a different regimen to focus on instead.|Chap2Scene2Cal][$chap2Archery to "likeQuiet"]]<<else>>"...Kid, wake up. Sleeptime's over." You wake with a start, gasping in shock at being so suddenly awoken. Any fear you might've otherwise had is instantly washed away as you remember your surroundings, and the person who stands above you. Determined green eyes fix on you, and a slender yet strong hand reaches out. You grab it and are unceremoniously yanked into a standing position almost instantly. She's not wearing her usual garments--opting for a fancy crimson blouse with some small ruffles near the collar--it reminds you of the official Bladeweaver academy uniforms, the serious red-and-black garb threaded with silvery green that you'll one day wear. Graduated Adepts are often clad in Bladeweaver red as well, before they acquire their own gear at least. It looks Summery and light--perfect for today's weather. Aunt Sonia claps you on the back, once, before stepping back to grab your equipment: a small bow and quiver, half-full with blunted training arrows. "Time to get back to it, $firstname." Today's session is dedicated to archery, and you've been training for the past hour or so in the forest, trying to hit targets that Aunt Sonia sets up--to mixed results. Archery isn't exactly a major focus of Bladeweavers, something you were once made well aware of when you'd watched Aunt Sonia try to handle a bow--it seems she's built to handle a sword, but not much else. Your house's back door still has a dent from the arrowhead in it. It makes you wonder why she's the one teaching you archery but you suppose that, without Uncle Callen here, she's the next best person to do so. [[It's really nothing that exciting to you, and you voice your distaste for archery as you have before.|Chap2Scene2Son][$chap2Archery to "dislikeVocal"]] [[It's really nothing that exciting to you, but you've kept quiet on your dislike for archery for a while now, content to keep learning it if Aunt Sonia deems it necessary to learn.|Chap2Scene2Son][$chap2Archery to "dislikeQuiet"]] [[You love coming out here to practise archery. There's just something so satisfying about being able to hit such far-away targets, and you elect to voice your love of it.|Chap2Scene2Son][$chap2Archery to "likeVocal"]] [[You love coming out here to practise archery. There's just something so satisfying about being able to hit such far-away targets, but you elect to keep quiet in the event that you're given a different regimen to focus on instead.|Chap2Scene2Son][$chap2Archery to "likeQuiet"]]<</if>>

<<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>You readily grab the bow and secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip, rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">>Your eyebrows shoot up and you grin. "I forgot we were doing archery today! Yes!" You jump up and down a little before grabbing the bow. You also secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip, rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>You expertly stifle the groan rising up in your throat, and grab the bow. You secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip, rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training, or something stupid.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal">>You don't bother to stifle the groan that leaves you. "Why do I even //have// to learn archery? Aunt Sonia doesn't do it." You grumble. "Aye, she don't. And she's not likely to learn now, either. S'all about learnin' as much as ye can while your mind's at its most open, $callenChild. Y'never know when skill with a bow might come in handy." You're still utterly unconvinced, but this isn't an argument you see yourself winning, so you reluctantly grab the bow and secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training, or something stupid.<</if>> "Alright, $callenChild, y'see those targets, past the big tree over there?" He points, directing your attention to a little cluster of wooden targets, crudely built to stand up against the wind but not much more, about ten metres away. You take the proper stance, hips squared and pointed in the direction of your feet. Uncle Callen teaches you to pick your targets before a fight even begins (//should// it begin, anyway) so you choose one of the targets closest to you, figuring that in a real fight you'd want to shoot the closest assailant. Uncle Callen silently shifts behind you, making minor corrections to your posture and giving a quick thumbs up once you're good to go. "Remember, $callenChild. Relax, take a few deep breaths first. Draw back, breathe out an' release once ye're ready. Accuracy before speed." You do as he says, breathing deeply, in and out to keep yourself relaxed until you nock an arrow, raise the bow and pull the string back, your hand coming just behind your ear. But, just as you're ready to loose the arrow, a particularly strong gust of wind blows through the forest, managing to topple the target you'd chosen. It seems you were wrong about the targets being too sturdy for the wind. Time seems to move in slow motion as the target starts to topple, you have a choice to make. [[🏃Quickly switch to another target. You're fast enough on your feet that pivoting to make the shot is easy. (Agility +)|Chap2Scene3CalA][$agility to $agility + 1]] [[⌚Adjust for the change in the target's position and shoot it as it falls. Your instincts are quick enough that you might be able to make the shot. (Instinct +)|Chap2Scene3CalR][$instinct to $instinct + 1]]

<<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>You readily grab the bow from her and secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip, rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">>Your eyebrows shoot up and you grin. "I forgot we were doing archery today! Yes!" You jump up and down a little before grabbing the bow from her. You also secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip, rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>You expertly stifle the groan rising up in your throat, and grab the bow. You secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip, rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training, or something stupid.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal">> You don't bother to stifle the groan that leaves you. "Why do I even //have// to learn archery? You don't do it." You grumble. Aunt Sonia snorts. "That tactic won't work on me, kid. You're learning specifically because I never did. It's easier now for you to learn something new rather than when you're a haggard old person like me or," she leans in close to whisper conspiratorially, "your Uncle Callen." The joke might have been enough to dispel your sour mood in other circumstances, but not today. Seeing that you're still against it, she takes a different approach. "Just another hour of training and we'll be done. You put your all into it, though. Deal?" You're still utterly unconvinced, but this isn't an argument you see yourself winning. "Deal." You answer begrudingly. You reluctantly grab the bow and secure the quiver to a clip on your belt, the arrows in a reachable position at your hip rather than on your back which is more appropriate for training, or something stupid.<</if>> You look around for the little collection of crude wooden targets you'd been using for practice earlier, but they're nowhere to be found. You shoot a quizzical look to Aunt Sonia, who smirks and starts to step back until she's a good distance away from you. "I got bored of watching you shoot those things on your own, so we're doing something different now!" She raises her voice a little as she calls out to you. "Assume your proper stance, but be ready to move. I'm gonna run at you, and if I get to you..." She doesn't even bother to answer as she takes off in a full-bodied sprint to the side, circling around you, and you can only imagine as to the horrific chore you'll be saddled with should she reach you. You quickly nock an arrow and breathe in, drawing the string right back behind your ear before loosing the arrow with a quick breath out. You miss. Aunt Sonia's not the fastest, but she's certainly quick enough to avoid your arrows as you shoot another, and another. It doesn't help that she's using the environment to her advantage, darting between thick trees and using the difference in the height of terrain to throw off the trajectory of your shots. You're taking cautious steps back as her circle around you slowly starts to lessen in size. The closer she gets, the more chance you have of hitting her, but nerves threaten to overtake you. It's when she suddenly turns on her heel and bounds towards you, at full speed, that your nerves are truly tested. She gets to within a few simples paces' distance of you, and you've barely nocked an arrow and drawn it back when... [[🏃Just as she gets within reach, you dodge out of the way and fire a quick arrow into her back. (Agility +)|Chap2Scene3SonA][$agility to $agility + 1]] [[⌚Remain steadfast, trusting your instinct to be able to hit her just before she can lay a hand on you. (Instinct +)|Chap2Scene3SonR][$instinct to $instinct + 1]]

//Instinct increase.// You make a tiny adjustment to your aim and loose the arrow, which wobbles through the air from your last-second adjustment before sailing right into the falling target, hitting it just before it clatters against the ground. Uncle Callen gives a little cheer. "Good shootin', $callenChild! Accurate beyond any reason, eh? Y'certainly picked yer target, no doubt about that." You turn around to look at him, noticing a small object in his hand that he hurriedly tries to hide from you. "What's //that//?" You inquire, putting on the voice you've heard Aunt Sonia use when she wants him to stop being silly. Much to your surprise, it seems to work, and he uncurls his fingers to show you the object. It's a magical focus! With a ... wind spell on it? The realization comes suddenly. "Did //you// cause that wind?" You ask, disbelievingly. It seems Uncle Callen was stifling laughter, because he now breaks out into loud booming chuckles. "I thought ye wouldn't notice, $callenChild. I was savin' this for the right thing and it, well, it seems t'have brought out the bow$person in ye. Hope y'arent mad." He stops laughing and looks almost pleadingly at you, imploring you //not// to be angry, even if you might be. <<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet" or $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">> You have to admit it was a neat trick, and it lead to you doing something pretty incredible with your bow, so you can't say you're mad at all.<<else>> Even with how much you dislike archery, you have to admit it was a neat trick that lead to you doing something pretty incredible with your bow. You're maybe a //tiny// bit mad, but that's just at archery in general, you suppose.<</if>> You shake your head in the affirmative. "Nope." "C'mon then, $callenChild. No more tricks, I promise ye. It'll just be clean practice from here on out, just for the next hour, alright?" <<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or "likeQuiet">>"Alright!" You peep, readying your bow once more.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>"If you say so..." You huff, reluctantly readying your bow.<</if>> True to his word, you train for about another hour, getting plenty of opportunity to better your archery skills. You both end up lounging against a sturdy treetrunk, the canopy above providing adequate shelter from the high midday sun. Uncle Callen's big arm wraps around your shoulder, hugging you close to him. <<if $callenClose >= 50>>You're content with that, despite the heat, and smile up at him.<<else>>You wriggle loose from his grip, stating that it's too uncomfortable with the heat, and he looks at you apologetically but doesn't push the issue any further.<</if>> Another moment passes before Uncle Callen looks at you, a question in his eyes. "I'm proud of ye for givin' it your all today, $firstname. You're better'n a $callenChild your age has any right to be. <<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>An' it's even better that it's somethin' you're fond of."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>An' it's a real shame you're not such a big fan of it. Still, the skill's a useful one, and ye don't have to keep it up once ye're learnin' at the academy proper, anyway." He smiles conciliatorily. That's nice, at the very least.<</if>> "Are we going home soon, then?" You enquire<<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">> hopefully.<<else>>.<</if>> "I think we can go home right now, eh? Ye've put in enough work today, I think." As he gets up, he holds out a hand for you. <<if $callenClose >= 50>>You happily take it, giggling as he pulls you up into the air by the arm for a split-second before letting you drop to your feet with a thud.<<else>>You stand up on your own, and Uncle Callen withdraws his hand as if nothing had happened.<</if>> [[Bow slung over shoulder, you and Uncle Callen head home.|Chap2Scene4Cal]]

//Agility increase.// Without even thinking, you spin on your feet and choose a different target. Your arrow sails, a little wobbly, through the air and strikes true. The target is knocked to the ground just a half-second after the windblown one falls. Uncle Callen gives a little cheer. "Good shootin', $callenChild! I might've said accuracy before speed, but accuracy //an'// speed is best!" You turn around to look at him, noticing a small object in his hand that he hurriedly tries to hide from you. "What's //that//?" You inquire, putting on the voice you've heard Aunt Sonia use when she wants him to stop being silly. Much to your surprise, it seems to work, and he uncurls his fingers to show you the object. It's a magical focus! With a ... wind spell on it? The realization comes suddenly. "Did //you// cause that wind?" You ask, disbelievingly. It seems Uncle Callen was stifling laughter, because he now breaks out into loud booming chuckles. "I thought ye wouldn't notice, $callenChild. I was savin' this for the right thing and it, well, it seems t'have brought out the bow$person in ye. Hope y'arent mad." He stops laughing and looks almost pleadingly at you, imploring you //not// to be angry, even if you might be. <<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet" or $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">> You have to admit it was a neat trick, and it lead to you doing something pretty incredible with your bow, so you can't say you're mad at all.<<else>> Even with how much you dislike archery, you have to admit it was a neat trick that lead to you doing something pretty incredible with your bow. You're maybe a //tiny// bit mad, but that's just at archery in general, you suppose.<</if>> You shake your head in the affirmative. "Nope." "C'mon then, $callenChild. No more tricks, I promise ye. It'll just be clean practice from here on out, just for the next hour, alright?" <<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>"Alright!" You peep, readying your bow once more.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>"If you say so..." You huff, reluctantly readying your bow.<</if>> True to his word, you train for about another hour, getting plenty of opportunity to better your archery skills. You both end up lounging against a sturdy treetrunk, the canopy above providing adequate shelter from the high midday sun. Uncle Callen's big arm wraps around your shoulder, hugging you close to him. <<if $callenClose >= 50>>You're content with that, despite the heat, and smile up at him.<<else>>You wriggle loose from his grip, stating that it's too uncomfortable with the heat, and he looks at you apologetically but doesn't push the issue any further.<</if>> Another moment passes before Uncle Callen looks at you, a question in his eyes. "I'm proud of ye for givin' it your all today, $firstname. You're better'n a $callenChild your age has any right to be. <<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>An' it's even better that it's somethin' you're fond of."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>An' it's a real shame you're not such a big fan of it. Still, the skill's a useful one, and ye don't have to keep it up once ye're learnin' at the academy proper, anyway." He smiles conciliatorily. That's nice, at the very least.<</if>> "Are we going home soon, then?" You enquire<<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">> hopefully.<<else>>.<</if>> "I think we can go home right now, eh? Ye've put in enough work today, I think." As he gets up, he holds out a hand for you. <<if $callenClose >= 50>>You happily take it, giggling as he pulls you up into the air by the arm for a split-second before letting you drop to your feet with a thud.<<else>>You stand up on your own, and Uncle Callen withdraws his hand as if nothing had happened.<</if>> [[Bow slung over shoulder, you and Uncle Callen head home.|Chap2Scene4Cal]]

//Instinct increase.// You blow out a little puff of air from your nose, resolutely planting your feet and steadying your aim at the last possible second. The arrow doesn't travel very far, perhaps an arm's length, before hitting Aunt Sonia square in the stomach just as her hand grabs your outstretched arm holding the bow. "You little..." She gasps a little from the shock of the arrow hitting her point-blank in the stomach, letting go of you to rub the impact point while hunching over a little. "Not wearing any //padding//, $firstname!" She groans but stands up straight, fixing you with a proud look. "I got you, though!" You protest, eager to not let her worm her way out of the loss. "You did, yeah." She concedes, "That was good shooting, good confidence and stability. Not many trainees twice your age are able to keep that cool when I'm running at 'em. Being able to calmly and quickly respond to threats will take you far, kid. Fighting's just as much about your mind as it is your body." She starts to step back again. "Though it would've been better if you //hadn't// let me get that close in the first place." She winks. "Gather your arrows, we'll keep at it til' you can keep me away confidently." True to her word, you run the same drill for around an hour. You're //usually// able to keep her away, though when she does grab you she assures that her warning was just for the first time, so that is at least reassuring. By the end of the hour, you're both a little exhausted--the sun being at its peak in the day certainly doesn't help things--and laying down in a shaded area. Aunt Sonia's arms are stretched taut above her head as she breathes softly, halfway between sleep and waking. Seeing her so relaxed is a rare sight--Aunt Sonia is what most people would call 'tightly wound'. You wipe a layer of sweat from your forehead, turning over on your front to get a better look at her. She doesn't notice you looking for a minute, but eventually opens her eyes and tilts her head up to look at you. It's strange how you didn't really make any noise but she still managed to notice. "How's things, $firstname?" "I'm okay. Are we going back, soon?" <<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet" or $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">>Not that you'd particularly mind doing some more practice, but it //is// quite hot, and home sounds better than training right now.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>Honestly, you've done enough archery for the rest of your life.<</if>> "Sounds fine to me. How'd you find training today?" <<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>You nod softly. "I liked it. Archery's fun." Aunt Sonia sits up and huffs amusedly. "Mustn't take after me in that regard, then. I'm glad you like it, though. Better to like something and be good at it as well, right?" "Yeah." You agree, simply. You must be //really// tired. "C'mon, kid. Let's head on home. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">>You nod fervently. "Archery's the //best//." Aunt Sonia sits up and huffs amusedly. "Mustn't take after me in that regard, then. I'm glad you like it, though. Better to like something and be good at it as well, right?" "Yeah." You agree, simply. You must be //really// tired. "C'mon, kid. Let's head on home. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal">>You frown. "Still don't like archery, Aunt Sonia. I never will." Aunt Sonia sits up and smiles understandingly. "Never was my thing, either, not that I had much chance to learn it at your age." She laughs a little, as if remembering her own childhood, but stops almost immediately."It's a pity you're not a fan of it since you're quite good, but we all do things we're not fans of to better ourselves so, sorry kid. Gotta buckle up, hm?" The words are firm, but her tone's uncharacteristically sympathetic. You huff disappointedly. "Guess so." You must be really tired, even without taking your dislike of the activity into account, which Aunt Sonia notices. "C'mon, kid. I'm sure you want to head on home, now. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>You stifle the frown forming on your face, keeping your expression neutral. Aunt Sonia's surprisingly observant, though, and sits up to smile understandingly at you. "Never was my thing, either, not that I had much chance to learn it at your age." She laughs a little, as if remembering her own cihldhood, but stops almost immediately. "It's a pity you're not a fan of it since you're quite good, but we all do things we're not fans of to better ourselves so, sorry kid. Gotta buckle up." The words are firm, but her tone's uncharacteristically sympathetic. You nod, unable to hide all of the disappointment creeping into your tone. "Guess so." You must be really tired, even without taking your dislike of the activity into account, which Aunt sonia notices. "C'mon, kid. I'm sure you want to head on home, now. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<</if>> [[Bow slung over your shoulder, you and Aunt Sonia head home.|Chap2Scene4Son]]

//Agility increase.// You abandon this firing attempt and duck, whipping your entire body to the side just as Aunt Sonia stretches an arm out to grab you. She stumbles a little from the effort, giving you ample time to ready your arrow again, the quickly-fired projectile sailing into her back with a dull thud. Aunt Sonia rubs her back a little before turning around, pride etched onto her face. "Nicely done, kid. A quick body'll take you far in situations like that." She leans in closer, "Though it would've been better if you //hadn't// let me get that close in the first place." She winks and steps away once more. "Gather your arrows, we'll keep at it til' you can keep me away confidently." True to her word, you run the same drill for around an hour. You're //usually// able to keep her away, though when she does grab you she assures that her warning was just for the first time, so that is at least reassuring. By the end of the hour, you're both a little exhausted--the sun being at its peak in the day certainly doesn't help things--and laying down in a shaded area. Aunt Sonia's arms are stretched taut above her head as she breathes softly, halfway between sleep and waking. Seeing her so relaxed is a rare sight--Aunt Sonia is what most people would call 'tightly wound'. You wipe a layer of sweat from your forehead, turning over on your front to get a better look at her. She doesn't notice you looking for a minute, but eventually opens her eyes and tilts her head up to look at you. It's strange how you didn't really make any noise but she still managed to notice. "How's things, $firstname?" "I'm okay. Are we going back, soon?" <<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet" or $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">>Not that you'd particularly mind doing some more practice, but it //is// quite hot, and home sounds better than training right now.<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>Honestly, you've done enough archery for the rest of your life.<</if>> "Sounds fine to me. How'd you find training today?" <<if $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>You nod softly. "I liked it. Archery's fun." Aunt Sonia sits up and huffs amusedly. "Mustn't take after me in that regard, then. I'm glad you like it, though. Better to like something and be good at it as well, right?" "Yeah." You agree, simply. You must be //really// tired. "C'mon, kid. Let's head on home. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "likeVocal">>You nod fervently. "Archery's the //best//." Aunt Sonia sits up and huffs amusedly. "Mustn't take after me in that regard, then. I'm glad you like it, though. Better to like something and be good at it as well, right?" "Yeah." You agree, simply. You must be //really// tired. "C'mon, kid. Let's head on home. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal">>You frown. "Still don't like archery, Aunt Sonia. I never will." You mutter bitterly. Aunt Sonia sits up and smiles understandingly. "Never was my thing, either, not that I had much chance to learn it at your age." She laughs a little, as if remembering her own childhood, but stops almost immediately."It's a pity you're not a fan of it, since you're quite good, but we all do things we're not fans of to better ourselves so, sorry kid. Gotta buckle up, hm?" The words are firm, but her tone's uncharacteristically sympathetic. You huff disappointedly. "Guess so." You must be really tired, even without taking your dislike of the activity into account, which Aunt Sonia notices. "C'mon, kid. I'm sure you want to head on home, now. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>You stifle the frown forming on your face, keeping your expression neutral. Aunt Sonia's surprisingly observant, though, and sits up to smile understandingly at you. "Never was my thing, either, not that I had much chance to learn it at your age." She laughs a little, as if remembering her own cihldhood, but stops almost immediately. "It's a pity you're not a fan of it since you're quite good, but we all do things we're not fans of to better ourselves so, sorry kid. Gotta buckle up." The words are firm, but her tone's uncharacteristically sympathetic. You nod, unable to hide all of the disappointment creeping into your tone. "Guess so." You must be really tired, even without taking your dislike of the activity into account, which Aunt sonia notices. "C'mon, kid. I'm sure you want to head on home, now. Leave the targets here, we'll grab them another day."<</if>> [[Bow slung over your shoulder, you and Aunt Sonia head home.|Chap2Scene4Son]]

The path out of the thickly forested area leads you into a small but opulent public park, somewhere you tend not to visit that often since your trips here are mainly for training purposes. That said, it's quite plainly a nice place, one of the only green parts of Sola left, as you've seen in maps of the entire landmass. There's a decent amount of space to use and it's rarely very busy. There's also a sizable lake nearby, kept clean by ancient spellwork, but that usually freezes over in the colder months. Maybe you'll ask to come here on your own You pass by some people you half-recognize from trips around the city but Aunt Sonia pays them little mind, her most acknowledging gesture a small nod here and there. It seems she's just focused on getting out of here instead of mingling. You know she doesn't ''mean'' to be cold most of the time, it's just a plain fact of life: Aunt Sonia does not do small talk or //idle chatter//. [[In this regard, you are not much like your mentor. She could afford to act a little friendlier! You'll just have to lead by example. (Cold --)|Chap2Scene5SonWarm][$cold to $cold - 15]] [[Similarly to her, you mostly ignore them, keeping to yourself. (Cold ++)|Chap2Scene5SonCold][$cold to $cold + 15]]

The path out of the thickly forested area leads you into a small but opulent public park, somewhere you tend not to visit that often since your trips here are mainly for training purposes. That said, it's quite plainly a nice place, one of the only green parts of Sola left, as you've seen in maps of the entire landmass. There's a decent amount of space to use and it's rarely very busy. There's also a sizable lake nearby, kept clean by ancient spellwork, but that usually freezes over in the colder months. You pass by some people you half-recognize from trips around the city and Uncle Callen's happy to say hello to them, offering a wave and handshake to those who know him. He engages in idle chatter about what he's doing, pointing to you with your archery gear and explaining a little about what you've done and how proud he is. To use the term //friendly// for Uncle Callen would be doing him a disservice, really. [[In this regard, you are not much like your mentor. You're not really one for talking to so many people so much. (Cold ++)|Chap2Scene5CalCold][$cold to $cold + 15]] [[Similarly to Uncle Callen, you readily engage in conversation with a cheery expression, despite your tiredness. It can't hurt to be nice, right? (Cold --)|Chap2Scene5CalWarm][$cold to $cold - 15]]

Your greetings are much the same as Aunt Sonia's; a short nod or the occasional hello. You don't really feel the need to tell them about your archery<<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">> and how much you //really// don't like it<</if>>, why do they need to know? <<if $chap1Personality == "introvert" or $chap1Personality == "ambivert">>You weren't the most outgoing $child when you were younger, either, and it seems you're growing up that way as well.<<else>>You used to be quite the outgoing $child when you were younger, so it's quite the difference from back then.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene6Son]]

While Aunt Sonia seems content to simply nod or give a clipped "Afternoon." to the few people who recognize your duo, you are //not//. You take some time to eagerly tell them what you were doing, <<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>and even though you don't really like archery you're actually pretty good at it even for a kid and it's really //warm//, isn't it?<<elseif $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>especially about how much you like archery and how you're pretty good at it even for a kid and how it's really //warm//, isn't it?<</if>> To her credit, Aunt Sonia waits patiently to the side, hands in the pockets of her pants as she idly looks up at the clear blue sky, following the odd bird as it flies overhead. <<if $chap1Personality is "introvert" or $chap1Personality is "ambivert">>You weren't the most outgoing $child when you were younger, so it's a big difference from how you used to act around others back then.<<elseif $chap1Personality is "extrovert">>You used to be quite the outgoing $child when you were younger as well, so it's no surprise you're still acting that way these days.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene6Son]]

You shine a proud, toothy little grin at the people Uncle Callen not-so-subtly brags about your archery skills to, joining in the chatter when you can and waving to them as you pass on by. He's definitely embellishing your exploits, but you're not about to say anything to dispel the people's opinions of your skill. <<if $chap1Personality == "introvert" or $chap1Personality == "ambivert">>You weren't the most outgoing $child when you were younger, so it's a big difference from how you used to act around others back then.<<else>>You used to be quite the outgoing $child when you were younger as well, so it's no surprise you're still acting that way these days.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene6Cal]]

You stay mostly silent while Uncle Callen proudly states all the impossible shots you made today. He's definitely embellishing your exploits, but you're not about to say anything to dispel the people's opinions of your skill. <<if $chap1Personality == "introvert" or $chap1Personality == "ambivert">>You weren't the most outgoing $child when you were younger, either, and it seems you're growing up that way as well.<<else>>You used to be quite the outgoing $child when you were younger, so it's quite the difference from back then.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene6Cal]]

Once you've passed everyone on by, Aunt Sonia leads you on the familiar path home. Your pace is relatively slow, owing to the heat of the day - even Aunt Sonia's feeling it, walking slower than usual. You'd once thought that no weather could ever shake her, but it seems the heat is her weakness. <<if $soniaClose <= 40>>A small part of you feels a strange pride at that. She's normally so irritatingly confident.<<else>> You give her a glance of concern every now and then but she just smiles like nothing's wrong at all, ruffling your slightly sweat-damp hair when you stare for too long.<</if>> The tranquil park starts to shift back into the streets you're more familiar with--tall buildings and bustling crowds wherever you look--and then to the streets you're //very// familiar with, the ones around your home: the tall building like a beacon of dull green. Added to the usual midday bustle of the street is, strangely, a host of workers moving heavy crates into an old building next to yours--one that had been vacated a year or so when the old man living there had passed. Uncle Callen was quite shaken up about it, but you barely interacted with the man. You'd only truly understood what it //meant// that he was dead when Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia sat you down to explain it. It had been your first experience with death. They're right on the path to the house, so Aunt Sonia decides to strike up a (hopefully for her) brief conversation. "Moving somebody in, lads?" She calls out, sauntering up to the group and leaning on a sturdy enough-looking pile of wooden crates. "Miss ... Sonia, is it?" A currently unoccupied worker answers, giving a subdued look of disapproval at her leaning on his crates, but otherwise not pushing the issue further. "Well met. Gonna assume you know Cal?" The tone of her voice makes it seem like she already knows the answer. "Indeed, Miss Sonia." He scratches his close-cropped black hair. "And you'd be right, by the way. Some Abri merchant and his kid, movin' all the way here from the Empire." Aunt Sonia clicks her tongue. "All the way from Abria, huh? We sure he didn't do something worthy of running away?" She says with a glint in her eye. The worker huffs at what he perceives to be a joke. "Not my place to assume, Miss Sonia, though if he was runnin' away from something then hirin' a bunch of people to move him into his new home in a Risen City ain't exactly //subtle// in my eyes." "Guess not," she reasons, "but that's gotta be a rich man, if he can afford moving here now //and// paying you lot to shift his stuff." The worker shrugs. "Rich enough to pay us to move all his stuff. Or," he grins a little, wiping some dust from his sweaty brow and scratching hair, "the guy's lazy and hopin' he's gonna make his money back from operating here." Aunt Sonia smirks, her cynicism a match for this worker's. "Can't blame a man for wanting to better his life somehow. Just hope it doesn't get any fucking noisier 'round here than it already is." The two share a chuckle, it isn't often that she gets on well with a stranger so she must be relishing it while it lasts. A beat passes as the conversation seems to come to an end. Aunt Sonia speaks again. "Well, good luck to you lads with moving all this stuff. Feels, uh," she tries to shift one of the heavy crates she's leaned against with a shove of her shoulder, but it barely budges, "a bit heavy." "Thank you, Miss Sonia." The worker smiles, and Aunt Sonia moves out of his way, beckoning you to follow her inside. [["Did he say there's going to be a kid moving in?" You ask hopefully. Another kid as your neighbour? That'd be incredible. (Optimistic +, Cold -)|Chap2Scene7Son][$optimistic to $optimistic + 3, $cold to $cold - 3, $chap2OtherKid to "like"]] [["Did he say there's going to be a kid moving in?" You ask skeptically. Another kid as your neighbour? That'd be annoying. (Optimistic -, Cold +)|Chap2Scene7Son][$optimistic to $optimistic - 3, $cold to $cold + 3, $chap2OtherKid to "dislike"]] [["Did he say there's going to be a kid moving in?" You ask neutrally. Another kid as your neighbour? You don't even know what that'd be like.|Chap2Scene7Son][$chap2OtherKid to "neutral"]]

Once all the chatter's been taken care of, you and Uncle Callen take the relatively short walk home. Your pace is relatively slow, owing to the heat of the day and how Uncle Callen lags behind a little, <<if $callenClose <= 40>>you //really// wish he'd hurry up so you could get home and find some proper shade.<<else>>as much as you'd like to get inside and to the shade, you decide not to rush him.<</if>> The tranquil park starts to shift back into the streets you're more familiar with - tall buildings and bustling crowds wherever you look - and then to the streets you're //very// familiar with, the ones around your home, the tall building like a beacon of dull green. Added to the usual midday bustle of the street is, strangely, a host of workers moving heavy crates into an old building next to yours - one that had been vacated a year or so when the old man living there had passed. Uncle Callen was quite shaken up about it, but you barely interacted with the man. You'd only truly understood what it //meant// that he was dead when Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia sat you down to explain it. It had been your first experience with death. "G'afternoon to ye, friends!" Uncle Callen calls out, stepping up onto the path with you at his side. "Are you lads movin' a new tenant in?" He enquires, not bothering to mask his nosiness. <<if $cold > 50>>You cringe at how forward he is.<<else>><</if>> One of the workers who's presently unoccupied answers him. "This Abri merchant and his kid, Mister Callen." He speaks to Uncle Callen with an air of respect--he must know him, like practically everyone you pass apparently. Uncle Callen hums in thought. "Wasn't sure anyone'd be movin' after ol' Henri passed on. Must be a rich man, eh?" The worker shrugs. "Rich enough to pay us to move all his stuff. Or," he grins a little, wiping some dust from his sweaty brow and scratching his close-cropped black hair, "the guy's lazy and hopin' he's gonna make his money back from operating here." Uncle Callen barks out a surprised laugh at the worker's candor. "Careful, lad! He'll be me neighbour, an' I work //fast//. Could be best mates by the end of the month." He winks but shakes the worker's hand all the same. "We'd best get back on in, the $callenChild here," he gestures to you with his thumb<<if $cold > 50>>and you just stand there as you did before,<<else>>and you smile at being mentioned, giving a little wave,<</if>> "is positively exhausted. Good luck, friends!" He sets off with you in tow, making the short walk from the house next to yours to your home. [["Did he say there's going to be a kid moving in?" You ask hopefully. Another kid as your neighbour? That'd be incredible. (Optimistic +, Cold -)|Chap2Scene7Cal][$optimistic to $optimistic + 3, $cold to $cold - 3, $chap2OtherKid to "like"]] [["Did he say there's going to be a kid moving in?" You ask skeptically. Another kid as your neighbour? That'd be annoying. (Optimistic -, Cold +)|Chap2Scene7Cal][$optimistic to $optimistic - 3, $cold to $cold + 3, $chap2OtherKid to "dislike"]] [["Did he say there's going to be a kid moving in?" You ask neutrally. Another kid as your neighbour? You don't even know what that'd be like.|Chap2Scene7Cal][$chap2OtherKid to "neutral"]]

"Aye, $callenChild. Once they've moved in, p'raps you can meet 'em? If ye'd like that, 'course." He looks at you expectantly while turning the old key in the lock, the front door to your home swinging open as the two of you step in. You take your boots off and stow your archery gear somewhere safe before answering. <<if $chap2OtherKid == "like">>"Duh, I'd like that!" You exclaim, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You don't often interact with other children since most families reside in different regions of Sola, so you'll jump at the chance to have an actual, bona-fide //friend//, and right next door at that!<<elseif $chap2OtherKid == "dislike">>A sour look crosses your face, and you shake your head a little. "I'm not sure, Uncle Callen. It'd be kind of annoying, after a bit. Could be a little baby or someone way older than me, too! That'd be //awful//." You scrunch your face up at the prospect of having to make friends with a little //baby// or an annoying teenager. You don't often interact with other children since most families reside in different regions of Sola, but you'd rather have nobody living next door if this other kid ends up being annoying.<<else>>A shrug is the most you're able to offer as response, unsure of what to really think. "Depends what the kid's like." You answer, neither here nor there on the prospect of another kid as your neighbour. You don't often interact with other children since most families reside in different regions of Sola, but you don't actually know if you'd particularly like or dislike having someone right next door.<</if>> Uncle Callen hums in thought. "Well, we can see what the situation is once our merchant man moves in next door, eh? Shouldn't be more'n a week or two if there's crates bein' moved in. Wonder what he sells..." He mutters to himself as he starts fixing a quick meal up for the two of you. "Y'hungry, $callenChild?" You simply nod, and he continues talking. "Strange, though. Movin' all the way from Abria to here, s'a long way." "How long?" You ask curiously. You've never even left Sola, and that seems plenty big. Abria's a whole other //country!// Uncle Callen stops in thought for a moment, though he keeps preparing lunch. "Huh. Not actually sure on that one, $callenChild. Prob'ly a fortnight away, if ye're travellin' by foot through the northern border into Alposa. Less if ye can afford to travel by boat, which I assume our merchant man can." So he doesn't really know, is the conclusion you come to. "So... you don't know?" "Y'got me, $callenChild. Not so great with numbers. Abria's a few hundred Solas away from Sola, s'all I know." He makes a little gesture of surrender before going back to food preparation. "How far's where you come from?" You inquire. You've never really considered it, but the topic of places has gotten you thinking. "Further'n Abria if ye'd believe it, $callenChild. Ye've seen Kerland on maps, I assume?" You nod in the affirmative. It is an island to the northeast of Phanol, a moderately sized, rocky place that you've read is home to some pretty famous raider clans - though they're not so active now. "That's your home?" "I was just //born// there, $callenChild. Home's a place ye make. I haven't been there in..." He hums and haws to himself, mentally counting, before giving up, "a long time." He offers an apologetic half-smile, but you don't miss the guarded, distant look in his eyes brought on by thinking of his birthplace. "Oh." Is your only response. You wonder why he never visits, but his earlier reaction prevents you from wishing to ask. [[Next|Chap2Scene8Cal]]

<<if $callenClose >= 45>>"Do you need any help, Uncle Callen?" You ask. Since you're not busy, you figure you could help him out with the cooking, though he usually does it alone if Aunt Sonia's not around. "S'alright, go an' occupy yerself. I'll let you know when it's ready. Alright?" "Okay!" You decide what else you're going to do, since cooking is apparently off the table.<<else>>Since that conversation's over, you figure you'll just go do something else until he calls you for food.<</if>> Now the //real// question is, what will you do? [[Simply relax. You've earned it, and maybe you'll passively read and do other things in the meantime. (Martial +, Charisma +, Intelligence +)|Chap2Scene8Relax][$martial to $martial + 1, $intelligence to $intelligence + 1, $charisma to $charisma + 1]] [[Go and study a book on fighting tactics. Maybe you'll read about a new fighting technique. (Martial ++)|Chap2Scene8Mar][$martial to $martial + 2]] [[Go and study some etiquette books. It couldn't hurt to prepare yourself for your new neighbours. (Charisma ++)|Chap2Scene8Cha][$charisma to $charisma + 2]] [[Go and study. Everything. (Intelligence ++)|Chap2Scene8Int][$intelligence to $intelligence + 2]]

You amble into your bedroom, changing your sweaty training gear--a slightly tatty brown tunic that's getting a little small for you atop a thick cotton shirt--for something more comfortable: <<if $agab == "male">>a light short-sleeved tunic alongside some hose, perfect for the relatively mild temperature of the inside of the house.<<else>>a light smock underneath a thin vest, perfect for the relatively average temperature of the inside of the house.<</if>> <<cycle "$chap2Clothing" autoselect>> <<option "You've always been comfortable wearing things like this." "2">> <<option "Though, you've sometimes wondered what it would be like to wear clothing that doesn't necessarily fit your gender." "1">> <</cycle>> Clothes taken care of, you hop onto the edge of your bed, still as large to you at eight as it was at five, and dramatically flop over onto your back, staring up at the pale ceiling for a while before idly occupying yourself with a few things you have lying around your room: some toys, story books and educational books alike among other things. You feel you've gained a bit of knowledge in various aspects while keeping things relaxed, and after a while of this you are called down to eat. //Martial, Intelligence, Charisma increase.// All of a sudden, you hear the call from downstairs. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Food's ready, $callenChild!"<<else>>"Come on down, $firstname! Time to eat!"<</if>> "Coming!" You call out, already on the way out of your room. You're //hungry//. [[Next|Chap2Scene9]]

You amble into your bedroom, changing your sweaty training gear--a slightly tatty brown tunic that's getting a little small for you atop a thick cotton shirt--for something more comfortable: <<if $agab == "male">>a light short-sleeved tunic alongside some hose, perfect for the relatively mild temperature of the inside of the house.<<else>>a light smock underneath a thin vest, perfect for the relatively average temperature of the inside of the house.<</if>> <<cycle "$chap2Clothing" autoselect>> <<option "You've always been comfortable wearing things like this." "2">> <<option "Though, you've sometimes wondered what it would be like to wear clothing that doesn't necessarily fit your gender." "1">> <</cycle>> Clothes taken care of, you search for your history book - a tome detailing the development of Phanol's four major nations: There's proud Telfrin, the oldest of all, Abria, the ever-expanding Empire to the northeast, reclusive Vengard, to the far south and Mestiria, unfortunately sandwiched between Telfrin and Vengard. By the end of your session you feel that you could recite the names of every person who fought in Mestiria's border wars if you truly wanted to. Still though, history is important to know even if it's usually boring or ugly. //Major Intelligence increase.// All of a sudden, you hear the call from downstairs. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Food's ready, $callenChild!"<<else>>"Come on down, $firstname! Time to eat!"<</if>> "Coming!" You call out, already on the way out of your room. You're //hungry//. [[Next|Chap2Scene9]]

You amble into your bedroom, changing your sweaty training gear--a slightly tatty brown tunic that's getting a little small for you atop a thick cotton shirt--for something more comfortable: <<if $agab == "male">>a light short-sleeved tunic alongside some hose, perfect for the relatively mild temperature of the inside of the house.<<else>>a light smock underneath a thin vest, perfect for the relatively average temperature of the inside of the house.<</if>> <<cycle "$chap2Clothing" autoselect>> <<option "You've always been comfortable wearing things like this." "2">> <<option "Though, you've sometimes wondered what it would be like to wear clothing that doesn't necessarily fit your gender." "1">> <</cycle>> Clothes taken care of, you hunt for your book on fighting tactics - one that ranges from throwing weapons to certain... //techniques//. Techniques that Uncle Callen would call dirty and Aunt Sonia would call prudent, the kind that involve tricky feints and hitting people in places that //nobody// would ever want to be hit in. You cringe a little as you read those parts. Still, though, if you're in a fight then you use every advantage you can get, Aunt Sonia says. By the end of your reading session you feel that your knowledge of combat has improved considerably. //Major Martial increase.// All of a sudden, you hear the call from downstairs. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Food's ready, $callenChild!"<<else>>"Come on down, $firstname! Time to eat!"<</if>> "Coming!" You call out, already on the way out of your room. You're //hungry//. [[Next|Chap2Scene9]]

Suddenly, your stomach rumbles a little. Aunt Sonia chuckles, "I'm guessing I've got a hungry archer on my hands, huh? I'll fix you something up." <<if $soniaClose >= 45>>"Do you want some help, Aunt Sonia?" You usually do end up helping her with cooking when she asks it. It's a fun experience you enjoy together. "Not this time, $firstname. Go upstairs and freshen up, put a fresh change of clothes on too. //Then// pick up one of your books, alright? Train your mind til' I call you down for food." She pats your shoulder affectionately, sniffing her hand and recoiling jokingly. "Alright!" You chirp, bounding upstairs.<<else>>"You won't want any help, right?" You hopefully ask. She sometimes makes you help her cook, her excuse being that you need to 'earn your fair share', though you're not sure that's an especially serious reason. Still, you'd prefer not to get roped into doing it when you can. She shakes her head in the affirmative. "Not this time, kid. You got lucky." She winks, lightly smacking your back when you happily turn away. "You can go on upstairs for a bit. Change your clothes, freshen up and study one of your books. Train your mind til' I call you down for food." "Okay!" You call out behind you, already scampering up the stairs as quick as your feet will take you.<</if>> Now the //real// question is, what will you do? [[Simply relax. You've earned it, and maybe you'll passively read and do other things in the meantime. (Martial +, Charisma +, Intelligence +)|Chap2Scene8Relax][$martial to $martial + 1, $intelligence to $intelligence + 1, $charisma to $charisma + 1]] [[Go and study a book on fighting tactics. Maybe you'll read about a new fighting technique. (Martial ++)|Chap2Scene8Mar][$martial to $martial + 2]] [[Go and study some etiquette books. It couldn't hurt to prepare yourself for your new neighbours. (Charisma ++)|Chap2Scene8Cha][$charisma to $charisma + 2]] [[Go and study. Everything. (Intelligence ++)|Chap2Scene8Int][$intelligence to $intelligence + 2]]

"Looks like it, kid." She turns to you once you're both inside and you've kicked your boots off, and continues. "Why, thinking of introducing yourself?" She looks curiously at you with a little apprehension. You can only imagine what she thinks of having to interact with a child that isn't you. <<if $chap2OtherKid == "like">>"Yep!" You exclaim, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You don't often interact with other children since most families reside in different regions of Sola, so you'll jump at the chance to have an actual, bona-fide //friend//, and right next door at that!<<elseif $chap2OtherKid == "dislike">>A sour look crosses your face, and you shake your head a little. "I'm not sure, Aunt Sonia. It'd be kind of annoying, after a bit. Could be a little baby or someone way older than me, too! That'd be //awful//." You scrunch your face up at the prospect of having to make friends with a little //baby// or an annoying teenager. You don't often interact with other children since most families reside in different regions of Sola, but you'd rather have nobody living next door if this other kid ends up being annoying.<<else>>A shrug is the most you're able to offer as response, unsure of what to really think. "Depends what the kid's like." You answer, neither here nor there on the prospect of another kid as your neighbour. You don't often interact with other children since most families reside in different regions of Sola, but you don't actually know if you'd particularly like or dislike having someone right next door.<</if>> Aunt Sonia clicks her tongue, crossing her arms as she leans back on her usual spot; the kitchen counter. "Well, here's hoping the kid isn't a little..." She hums, trying to think of a word that //isn't// inappropriate for you to hear. "Nuisance." Is the word she uses, spoken like she's chewing something unpleasant. There's a lull in conversation as you put your boots away, propping your archery gear inside a cupboard full of a few other training supplies, easily accessible from down here--though most of the proper gear is upstairs. Aunt Sonia breaks the lull, muttering mostly to herself, "What possesses a man to travel all the way from //Abria// to here, though? Can't be living costs..." She mumbles. "Is it a really long way?" You enquire. You have, of course, seen maps of Phanol: the Abrian Empire makes up a sizable chunk of the continent's northern region and encompasses the entire landmass situated in the east, so coming here from there would be a considerable trip. It's just difficult to comprehend the sheer //scale// of such a journey. You've never even left Sola, after all. "That's a momentous understatement, kid." She chuckles lightly. "//Mestiria// is closer to Sola than most of the livable areas of Abria." "Oh." Is your only response. Mestiria's not a place people ever talk of as being close. "Yeah, 'Oh.' Just makes one wonder why a merchant with a kid would move from Abria right to a place in the heart of that their rival..." You shrug exaggeratedly. "I don't know politics, Aunt Sonia." She pokes your forehead. "Know more than I did at your age, sprout. Just wondering what'd make someone leave their home behind like that, is all." She says, to nobody in particular. This talk of homes has you wondering something. "Where did //you// come from?" She lifts her eyebrows, an uncertain look turned your way. "Me?" "There's nobody else for me to ask." You point out. "Smart-arse." She huffs, before hesitantly continuing, "I ... was born in this tiny frozen town called Zimato, in what //used// to be Telfrin, but was annexed into Abria after the border war." That particular border war wasn't that long ago, you realise. "When did you leave?" She groans. "Making me remember things I prefer forgotten, kid." She half-jokes, but answers your question regardless. "About twenty years ago, at this point." She groans again, but more humorously. "Don't turn old." She adds with a wink. "Do you miss Zimi ... Zimato?" You wonder. She shakes her head strongly. "Not a bit. I've lived away from there longer than I lived there, you know? Some places, they're not worth the memories attached. I let the place go an age ago." Her tone sounds like she's trying to convince //herself// of something, rather than informing you. "Oh." You say, again. She doesn't often leave much room for discussion, your Aunt Sonia. "Anyway..." She changes the subject awkwardly, "It could be that our merchant and his spawn took a ship, instead. There are a few ports much closer to us rather than travelling by foot, so we could be seeing our new neighbours in the coming weeks. How exciting." She deadpans. [[Next|Chap2Scene8Son]]

<<set $samNick to "unknown">>There's an eerie quietude in the forest clearing, considering it's only the early afternoon--there should be birds chirping somewhere, at the very least. The only truly audible thing is the sound of the stream, gently splashing its way along on its path to the edge of the city. Speaking of the stream, as you're looking at it you catch a glimpse of //something// in the water--a fish, perhaps? Gingerly stepping over loose stones and uneven soil, you crouch down to gain a better view of what exactly it is that you've spotted. //<div id="invader-text">Look upon me, $child.</div>// It's ... another reflection, like in the basin earlier. Only this one is //different//. Reflected in the water is a figure, their upside-down sillhouette comprised of pure white, blurry as it is in the ever-shifting surface of the stream, though the reflection itself seems to be unmoving. What's strange is that there's nothing above the water to be making the reflection. Your breath hitches in your throat at the peculiar sight. Your mind has to be playing tricks on you; maybe you should've brought more water to drink, that's it. It has to be. Simple dehydration. But then, almost imperceptibly at first, the reflection ''moves''. What you assume to be its arm now points at you from the water's surface and, just as it starts to move once more, you're made suddenly and keenly aware of the soft shifting of soil and the presence of //something// behind you. "What're you d--" [[Let out a strangled yelp and flinch forward, inadvertently plunging yourself into the cold waters of the stream. (Cautious --)|FellSam][$metSam to "true", $chap2SamMeet to "fell", $cautious to $cautious - 5]] [[As startled as you are, it's probably nothing bad. Turn around calmly, like a normal person would. (Volatile --, Patient +)|CalmSam][$metSam to "true", $chap2SamMeet to "calm", $volatile to $volatile - 5, $patient to $patient + 3]] [[Turn around quickly, in order to gain the advantage on whatever it is that's gotten the jump on you. (Patient --, Optimistic --)|QuickSam][$metSam to "true", $chap2SamMeet to "startle", $patient to $patient - 5, $optimistic to $optimistic - 3]] [[Before they can finish, you whirl around and throw a quick jab at whatever it is, hoping to catch them by surprise. (Volatile ++, Cautious --)|PunchedSam][$metSam to "true", $chap2SamMeet to "punch", $volatile to $volatile + 5, $cautious to $cautious - 5]] [[Scream out of sheer shock. It's quite loud. (Cautious ++)|ScreamSam][$metSam to "true", $chap2SamMeet to "scream", $cautious to $cautious + 5]]

<<set $samNick to "Punchy">>Lots of things happen, all in an instant. You wheel around, pivoting on your heel and rising up from your crouched position at the same time, readying your body for a quick, powerful jab aimed right at your would-be assailant--now standing in front of you. Though, just as your clenched fist connects, you're able to catch a short glimpse at who exactly this person is. It's ... another kid? You certainly don't have time to stop your punch, and you can only watch as your fist slams into his nose with an unsettling ''thock'' sound. "Uff!" The boy makes a muted grunt once you've hit him, reeling backwards and landing on his behind atop the pebble-strewn soil of the stream's bank, the mop of curly golden hair atop his head flying this way and that with the motion. You just stand in shock there for a moment above him, as he lies there with his eyes closed and hands protectively shielding his nose--does he think you might keep on hitting him? After a few seconds of stunned silence interrupted only by his soft breathing and your unsettled shuffling, the boy's eyes open, little discs of bright blue peering up at you in bewilderment. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Contrary to Aunt Sonia's warning to 'punch and run', you stay put. This boy doesn't seem like he's able to chase you anyway.<<else>><</if>> He groans, but quickly shuffles around in order to hop up to his feet, gaining a little airtime before coming down with a thud on the soft ground. His clothes rustle around a bit, but he doesn't bother to straighten them out and instead opts for the scruffy look. "What was //that// for?" The boy asks, equal parts humour and actual curiosity seeping into his tone. He doesn't even seem angry that you hit him, rather surprised and tickled by it. <<if $volatile >= 60>>"Y-you startled me!" You obstinately defend yourself. He had no business creeping around like that, he was probably //trying// to scare you!<<else>>"I didn't know who you were..." You try to reason. He probably shouldn't have crept up behind you and spoken so close, it really scared you!<</if>> The boy's tanned face--he must spend a lot of time outdoors, you think--twists in consideration. "...D'you punch everyone who makes you jump?" He chuckles after saying that, as if realizing how ludicrous that would be. His voice is high and unbroken. He can't be much older than you, you surmise. You suddenly notice a tiny trickle of blood appear below his nose, all-too-quickly drip-dripping to the forest floor. He doesn't seem to have noticed, yet. <<if $cold >= 60>>You try to make the boy aware of his bloody nose by glaring at the building stream of red coming out of his //face//, but he seems completely oblivious to it, just standing stock still and looking blankly at you. After a few seconds of this, you sigh and point directly at him, irritatedly informing him, "Your nose is //bleeding//."<<elseif $cold <= 45>>You gasp and frantically point at his bloody nose. "Your nose is bleeding!"<<else>>You grimace at the sight and tap your own nose to help him. "Uh, your nose is bleeding."<</if>> The boy's eyes widen, and he scrambles to stop the bleeding by first pinching his nose - which doesn't work, earning him blood-covered fingers - then by simply covering his nostrils with the sleeve of his simple yellow tunic - which also doesn't work, earning him a blood-soaked sleeve - then by combining the two failed tactics - which works somewhat, though he now looks like he's been in a fight - which, upon reflection, is somewhat true. [[Next|PunchedSam2]]

<<set $samNick to "Screamy">>To your relief (and surprise) the person who scared the living daylights out of you was just ... another kid. A boy, to be exact. Albeit, another kid who looks about as shocked as you just felt. His tanned face--he must spend a lot of time outside, you think--has a meek, disturbed expression etched into it, like a frightened cat. His wide blue eyes stare at you uncertainly, though it looks more like he's concerned //for// you than frightened //of// you. His face is framed by short golden curls, a little ruffled from what you assume to be the sudden movement of flinching away from you when you screamed. The boy, garbed in a cheery yellow tunic, holds his hands up and close to his chest, presumably to show you that he's no threat, as if someone so, well, //sunny// looking could ever be a threat. You suppose he did make you scream just now, but that wasn't exactly entirely down to his actions. The startled-looking boy speaks up first. "... Hello ... you, uh, alright?" He speaks quietly but quickly, a friendly edge creeping into his tone despite his attempt to control the volume of his voice, like he's trying not to scare you any further. Well, now you feel a little bit silly. "I ... I'm fine. You just startled me." You explain, sheepishly biting your lip at having overreacted earlier. "I probably shouldn't have screamed." You add quietly. As if a lever had been pulled and a cog turned in the boy's mind, he turns //considerably// more cheery and stops acting like a person who's trying to calm a cornered animal. His stance becomes more open and he breaks into a wide, easy grin; an expression that seems moulded to fit on his face. "Nah, I get it! People make me jump like that sometimes, too. S'not somethin' we can really control, is it? Just gotta SCREAM!" He enunciates the word 'scream' by cupping two hands around his mouth and yelling up into the air, the high note of his voice ringing out through the silent forest, the environment around him not reacting save for the fluttering of a few frightened birds. His voice is high and unbroken, he can't be much older than you. He might just be trying to make you feel better, but the complete honesty in his tone has you second-guessing your assertion. [[Next|ScreamSam2]]

<<set $samNick to "Speedy">>"Whoa!" The person exclaims as you wheel round, pivoting on your foot to face them as quickly as you can. You're not getting taken by surprise today! You were expecting something scary or bad, but it's just ... a kid? A boy--he can't be much older than you--specifically. His blue eyes are wide in alarm, a look of mild alarm on his tanned face--he must spend a lot of time outside, you think. His short golden curls bounce around due to him leaning slightly back from you. "...Hello?" The boy tentatively greets, apparently nervous from you having just whipped around only to stare blankly at him. Oh. Not a threat, then. You relax your stance and put your hands on your hips, just looking at this mystery boy, now. "You startled me." You say, a little indignantly. The boy nods his head, smiling softly. "I could tell! Sorry about that, I can be real quiet and I should've called out to you first or somethin'. So ... what //were// you doing?" "There was something in the water." You reply, somewhat haughtily. You still don't appreciate being caught off-guard. "I ... can't remember what it was." Huh. You really can't, either. The memory of whatever was in the water seems murky, even though you saw it only a minute or two ago. "That's a shame." He offers his condolences and a sunny, dimpled smile. You just shrug. Perhaps you'll remember later, or find that thing again. The boy giggles at your hands still on your hips, the commanding pose feeling a little silly now that there's no actual threat, so you let them dangle by your sides normally. His eyes light up, then. "Oh! Follow me, I found this sunny clearin', it's real nice. We can sit down." Without another word, the boy turns and breaks into a brisk jog, waving behind him with a yellow-sleeved arm. You have little choice but to follow if you want to keep talking to him, and you figure there's little better to do. [[Follow him|QuickSam2]]

<<set $samNick = "Starey">>"--oing?" You turn around slowly, standing up at the same time to face whoever it is that's interrupted you. It's... another kid? A boy - he can't be much older than you, you notice. His question from before's still written on his face, blue eyes peering quizically at you. His tanned skin--he must spend a lot of time outside--has a few flecks of dried mud here and there on it, as do his short golden curls. You realise you haven't actually responded yet, so you answer, "Oh, um. I thought I saw something, in the water. I ... can't remember what it was." Huh. You really can't, either. The memory of whatever was in the water seems murky, even though you saw it only a minute or two ago. "That sucks." The boy says simply. You just nod slightly in response, shrugging. Maybe you'll find it again, later. His eyes light up for a moment, as if he's just remembered something. "Oh! By the way, I'm sorry for sneakin' up on you, even if you didn't seem that scared." He snickers, "I'm real quiet, and I should've called out or somethin'." "It's okay," You respond, "no harm done?" "Sure!" The young lad grins. "Hey, follow me! There's a nice sunny clearing nearby, we can sit down." He turns and breaks into a brisk jog, waving behind himself at you with a yellow-sleeved arm to follow. [[So, you do.|CalmSam2]]

<<set $samNick to "Clumsy">>Lots of things happen, all in an instant. You let out a strangled, undignified yelp before losing balance from your shock. To your horror you lurch forward, falling face-first into the brisk water of the stream. All that you can hear and feel for a few seconds are the muffled yells of the person who got you into this situation, alongside the uncomfortable sound and sensation of cold water rushing in and around your ears. Then, all of a sudden, you're pulled, quite firmly, out of the stream by two strong little hands gripping the scruff of your tunic. You stumble as you're pulled up and backwards out of the water, gasping for air at the same time. In your frantic state, you end up falling right on your behind, left in a sitting position to look up at the person who pulled you out. A boy--he can't be much older than you, you notice--holds his hands up close to himself soothingly, as if to calm a frightened animal. His blue eyes are wide, looking directly at you in concern and his tanned face--he must spend a lot of time outside - is slightly flushed from the exertion of pulling you out of the water and the general shock of you having fallen in the first place. Short golden curls bounce around his head slightly from his prior movement. Then, the boy appears to notice that the sleeves of his yellow tunic are now wet from reaching in the water, so he does his best to wring them out before focusing his attention back on you. "You alright?" He wipes his wet hands off on the front of his tunic, leaving a few streaky wet marks before offering you a helping hand up. [[Take it. (Cold -)|FellSam2][$samHelpedUp to "yes", $cold to $cold - 3]] [[You can get up yourself. (Cold +)|FellSam2][$samHelpedUp to "no", $cold to $cold + 3]]

You amble into your bedroom, changing your sweaty training gear--a slightly tatty brown tunic that's getting a little small for you atop a thick cotton shirt--for something more comfortable: <<if $agab == "male">>a light short-sleeved tunic alongside some hose, perfect for the relatively mild temperature of the inside of the house.<<else>>a light smock underneath a thin vest, perfect for the relatively average temperature of the inside of the house.<</if>> <<cycle "$chap2Clothing" autoselect>> <<option "Though, you've sometimes wondered what it would be like to wear clothing that doesn't necessarily fit your gender." "1">> <<option "You've always been comfortable wearing things like this." "2">><</cycle>> Clothes taken care of, you search around your room for your children's etiquette book, something you study quite often in order to improve your people skills. You're quite the charmer these days, if you'd say so yourself. Once you find the book you hop onto your bed, lazily propping your head up with one hand as you flip through the book with the other. It's hardly exciting reading, but it is good to know these things. By the end of your reading session, you feel that your etiquette and general charisma has improved considerably. //Major Charisma increase.// All of a sudden, you hear the call from downstairs. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Food's ready, $callenChild!"<<else>>"Come on down, $firstname! Time to eat!"<</if>> "Coming!" You call out, already on the way out of your room. You're //hungry//. [[Next|Chap2Scene9]]

The boy offers you a toothy grin, partially obscured by his arm, with his head tilted back slightly to slow the flow of blood. When he next speaks, it takes on a nasal tone due to his compressed nose. "This sorta works, but it should stop soon anyway. So what //were// you doin' out here?" You look down and kick a stray pebble before answering, "I... thought I saw something in the water. Something strange. I... can't remember?" Huh. You really can't, too. The memory of whatever was in the water seems murky, even though you saw it only a minute or two ago. "That sucks." The boy says simply, ambling uncertainly to the edge of the water and, after a few moments of cautious pinching of his nose, taking removing his sleeve from his face. Once no more blood flows, he grins at you again before dipping his sleeved arm in the clean stream, rinsing as much of the blood out of it as possible before wiping his face clean of any residual blood as well. As he does this, he looks back up at you, an apologetic but earnest look in his blue eyes. "Sorry for sneakin' up on you. I'm real good at bein' quiet, and I should've called out or somethin'." "Well, I'm sorry for punching you." You offer, but he waves the issue away. "S'all good! Not even my first nosebleed this week." He chuckles, apparently remembering the //other// nosebleed. Perhaps somebody else punched him? The boy speaks again. "Oh, yeah! I found a clearing nearby, there's a nice log we can sit on, let my sleeves dry a bit. You wanna come?" He looks at you as if denying this request would //literally// kill him, odd behaviour for somebody you just punched in the face. It seems there's not much else to do now, so you're content to follow this mystery boy. After a bit of walking, the clearing comes into view, a sturdy log laying on the ground in a beam of sunlight. The boy sits on the log while sunning his wet sleeve as best he can, he pats the side of the log next to him for you to sit, so you do. "Well, now //that's// done. You punch good." He giggles, "I'm Samuel Alban, s'nice to meet you!" He looks over at you, sat at his side on the impromptu bench, and reaches a hand across, presumably for you to shake. [[🌞+ Shake his hand eagerly. He's so friendly! (Cold -)|PunchedSam3][$samHandshake to "yesB", $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Shake his hand gingerly. He could be trying to get back at you for the punch. (Cold -, Cautious +)|PunchedSam3][$samHandshake to "yesN", $cautious to $cautious + 3, $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Stare warily at his hand before ultimately shaking it, dubiously. (Cold +, Cautious +)|PunchedSam3][$samHandshake to "yesS", $cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞= You would shake his hand, but you're nervous. He could be trying to get back at you for the punch. (Cold +, Cautious +)|PunchedSam3][$samHandshake to "noN", $cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 5]] [[🌞- Stare blankly at the boy. You're not going to shake his hand. (Cold +)|PunchedSam3][$samHandshake to "noB", $cold to $cold + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

<<if $samHandshake == "yesB">>You clasp his hand in yours and he enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. His hand is very warm, and he keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesN">>You pause a moment, looking nervously at his outstretched hand. He seems to notice your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. That ultimately convinces you and you gingerly reach out before clasping his hand in yours. The boy enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. "See? I don't bite!" He jokes at your slight reluctance to shake his hand earlier. He keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake, but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesS">>You cast a sly look at the boy's hand, measuring the odds of him trying to pull a trick on you. Your icy wall is met by the boy's warm, sunny onslaught of a grin and, eventually, you relent. You shake the boy's hand slowly, like he's covered in poison. If anything, he should be the one wary of you, but that doesn't seem to be the case. He could be luring you into a trap, one you've walked--or, more accurately, grabbed--right into. His grin widens, if that's possible, and he exclaims, "I don't bite, y'know!" He shakes your hand up and down enthusiastically before letting go, though his grin doesn't diminish one bit.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noB">>You just stare blankly at the boy, and he waits a few seconds with his hand held out before dropping it limply, pretending it's far heavier than it actually is. "I don't bite, but you don't have to shake it if you don't wanna." He smiles kindly.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noN">>You look apprehensively at his outstretched hand. Why would you shake the hand of someone who snuck up on you? He might try and get you back for punching him. The boy notices your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. When you still don't shake it, he gives up. "That's okay, you don't have to shake it." He says simply, smiling once that's done with.<</if>> The boy--Samuel, you remind yourself--speaks first. "Oh! Forgot to say, my proper name's Samuel, //buuut// nobody really ever calls me that, 'cept my pa. You can just call me Sam, instead! //But//," his blue eyes narrow, "don't ever call me Sammy!" He warns, scowling non-seriously. "Nah, I just don't like Sammy much, but I don't actually mind it. My pa says I've gotta tell people my proper full name //first//." He makes a sour expression, but evidently follows this rule, even with other children. "Anyway, what's //your// name, punchy?" Sam smiles expectantly at you. //Even his smile's bright//, you think. "I'm $firstname." You offer. His smile actually grows, if that's possible. "Nice name! You got a surname, $firstname? Or should I just call you $firstname, $theyF Who Punches Everyone?" Sam's own joke seems to jostle his own humour particularly effectively, and he giggles feverishly while hugging himself for a second so he doesn't end up doubling over. Your cheeks heat at his repeated referencing of the punch that you're trying //very// hard to forget, but you comply with his request. "It's $lastname. I'm $firstname $lastname." Sam's eyes widen in realization--or recognition, perhaps. "$lastname? Like the <<if $mentor == "Callen">>big funny beardy man in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Uncle Callen and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Uncle Callen." You confirm. His head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //uncle//?<<if $haircolour == "light brown" or $haircolour == "medium brown" and $eyecolour == "grey">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like him."<</if>> You clarify for him, "He's not my blood uncle or anything, he just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So he's like your pa, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Aunt Sonia too, only she's not here right now." "Oh, is she like your ma? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but she does take care of me just like Uncle Callen. He's just around the most." <<else>> scary-lookin' lady with the sword in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Aunt Sonia and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Aunt Sonia." You confirm. Sam's head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //aunt//?<<if $haircolour == "ash blonde" and $eyecolour == "dark green" or $eyecolour == "light green">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like her."<</if>> You clarify for him, "She's not my blood aunt or anything, she just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So she's like your ma, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Uncle Callen too, only he's not here right now." "Oh, is he like your pa? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but he does take care of me just like Aunt Sonia. She's just around the most."<</if>> "Huh." Sam says simply. "Well, I think we might be neighbours, then! My pa's moving us in to the house next to it. I met that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen man<<else>>Sonia lady<</if>> once the carriage dropped us off. Spent a few minutes talkin' until my pa told me I could go explore 'round here for a bit. It was //well// boring back there! But pa let me walk here, an' I'd say it's a good job I did!" He says, gesturing vaguely towards you as a sign of his good fortunes. "He let you walk //here// from //there//?" That's... tough to believe. "Oh, sure!" Sam chirps as if it's the most normal thing in the entire world. "He lets me go lots of places on my own. Our old home was pretty safe, an' I'm fast anyway. No weird people are catchin' me!" He grins sunnily, before turning more serious. "Uh, is it safe here, too?" He asks, seeking some small comfort in a new place in the one person he might be able to trust to give an honest answer: another child. You shrug. "I haven't heard of anything bad happening in Sola." [[Next|SamScene4]]

<<if $samHelpedUp == "yes">>Your hand wraps around the boy's damp forearm and his fingers clasp yours before he yanks you up, chuckling and stopping you when you stumble a bit.<<else>>You elect to stand up on your own, so the boy simply steps back courteously and smiles at you once you're up, giving a tiny wave with the hand he was going to use to help you up as a compromise.<</if>> He speaks first. "So, what //were// you doin' out here?" You look down and kick a stray pebble before answering, "I... thought I saw something in the water. Something strange. I ... can't remember?" Huh. You really can't, too. The memory of whatever was in the water seems murky, even though you saw it only a minute or two ago. "That sucks." The boy says simply, suddenly noticing how absolutely //sodden// you are. You just became aware of it too, shifting uncomfortably in your very wet clothes. "Sorry for makin' you fall in there." He points at the stream, as if you could have fallen in anything else. "I'm real good at bein' quiet, and I should've called out or somethin'." "It's okay." You respond, though the cold is starting to seep in. "I'm mostly just cold." The boy's eyes light up. "Oh! I know a sunny bit we can sit in for you to dry off. I could use it, too." He giggles, wiggling his floppy wet sleeves at you. "Follow me!" With that, the boy turns around, bouncing from foot to foot as he runs ahead of you. You're a little awkward with your steps, weighed down with your wet clothing as you are, but you make it work. The boy leads you to a sunny clearing in the forest with a sturdy-looking log on its side. He plants himself on it, patting the space next to him for you to sit. "Forgot to mention! I," He points at himself, "am Samuel Alban, s'nice to meet you!" He looks over to you, sat at his side on the impromptu bench, and reaches a hand across, presumably for you to shake. [[🌞+ Shake his hand eagerly. He's so friendly! (Cold -)|FellSam3][$samHandshake to "yesB", $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Shake his hand gingerly. You're not too sure about this boy, but he seems nice enough. (Cold -, Cautious +)|FellSam3][$samHandshake to "yesN", $cautious to $cautious + 3, $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Stare warily at his hand before ultimately shaking it, dubiously. (Cold +, Cautious +)|FellSam3][$samHandshake to "yesS", $cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞= You would shake his hand, but you're nervous. (Cold +, Cautious +)|FellSam3][$samHandshake to "noN", $cold to $cold + 5, $cautious to $cautious + 3]] [[🌞- Stare blankly at the boy. You're not going to shake his hand. (Cold +)|FellSam3][$samHandshake to "noB", $cold to $cold + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

<<if $samHandshake == "yesB">>You clasp his hand in yours and he enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. His hand is very warm, and he keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesN">>You pause a moment, looking nervously at his outstretched hand. He seems to notice your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. That ultimately convinces you and you gingerly reach out before clasping his hand in yours. The boy enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. "See? I don't bite!" He jokes at your slight reluctance to shake his hand earlier. He keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake, but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesS">>You cast a sly look at the boy's hand, measuring the odds of him trying to pull a trick on you. Your icy wall is met by the boy's warm, sunny onslaught of a grin and, eventually, you relent. You shake the boy's hand slowly, like he's covered in poison. After all, he made you fall into a //stream//. It was SO cold! His grin widens, if that's possible, and he exclaims, "I don't bite, y'know!" He shakes your hand up and down enthusiastically before letting go, though his grin doesn't diminish one bit.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noB">>You just stare blankly at the boy, and he waits a few seconds with his hand held out before dropping it limply, pretending it's far heavier than it actually is. "I don't bite, but you don't have to shake it if you don't wanna." He smiles kindly.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noN">>You look apprehensively at his outstretched hand. Why would you shake the hand of someone who snuck up on you and made you fall into the stream? The boy notices your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. When you still don't shake it, he gives up. "That's okay, you don't have to shake it." He says simply, smiling once that's done with.<</if>> The boy--Samuel, you remind yourself--speaks first. "Oh! Forgot to say, my proper name's Samuel, //buuut// nobody really ever calls me that, 'cept my pa. You can just call me Sam, instead! //But//," his blue eyes narrow, "don't ever call me Sammy!" He warns, scowling non-seriously. "Nah, I just don't like Sammy much, but I don't actually mind it. My pa says I've gotta tell people my proper full name //first//." He makes a sour expression, but evidently follows this rule, even with other children. "Anyway, what's //your// name, clumsy?" Sam smiles expectantly at you. //Even his smile's bright//, you think. "I'm $firstname." You offer. His smile actually grows, if that's possible. "Nice name! You got a surname, $firstname? Or should I just call you $firstname, $theyF Who Falls into Streams?" Sam's own joke seems to jostle his own humour particularly effectively, and he giggles feverishly while hugging himself for a second so he doesn't end up doubling over. Your cheeks heat at his repeated referencing of the fall that you're trying //very// hard to forget - made difficult by how your clothes stick to you - but you comply with his request. "It's $lastname. I'm $firstname $lastname." Sam's eyes widen in realization--or recognition, perhaps. "$lastname? Like the <<if $mentor == "Callen">>big funny beardy man in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Uncle Callen and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Uncle Callen." You confirm. His head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //uncle//?<<if $haircolour == "light brown" or $haircolour == "medium brown" and $eyecolour == "grey">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like him." He says with a barely-masked skepticism to his tone.<</if>> You clarify for him, "He's not my blood uncle or anything, he just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So he's like your pa, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Aunt Sonia too, only she's not here right now." "Oh, is she like your ma? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but she does take care of me just like Uncle Callen. He's just around the most." <<else>> scary-lookin' lady with the sword in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Aunt Sonia and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Aunt Sonia." You confirm. Sam's head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //aunt//?<<if $haircolour == "ash blonde" and $eyecolour == "dark green" or $eyecolour == "light green">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like her."<</if>> You clarify for him, "She's not my blood aunt or anything, she just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen tell you - that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being friends with them, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So she's like your ma, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Uncle Callen too, only he's not here right now." "Oh, is he like your pa? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but he does take care of me just like Aunt Sonia. She's just around the most."<</if>> "Huh." Sam says simply. "Well, I think we might be neighbours, then! My pa's moving us in to the house next to it. I met that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen man<<else>>Sonia lady<</if>> once the carriage dropped us off. Spent a few minutes talkin' until my pa told me I could go explore 'round here for a bit. It was //well// boring back there! But pa let me walk here, an' I'd say it's a good job I did!" He says, gesturing vaguely towards you as a sign of his good fortunes. "He let you walk //here// from //there//?" That's... tough to believe. "Oh, sure!" Sam chirps as if it's the most normal thing in the entire world. "He lets me go lots of places on my own. Our old home was pretty safe, an' I'm fast anyway. No weird people are catchin' me!" He grins sunnily, before turning more serious. "Uh, is it safe here, too?" He asks, seeking some small comfort in a new place in the one person he might be able to trust to give an honest answer: another child. You shrug. "I haven't heard of anything bad happening in Sola." [[Next|SamScene4]]

<<set $samRomance to 0>>"Perfect!" Sam grins excitedly. "I spend a lot of time outside, if you, uh, couldn't tell." He chuckles while pointing downwards at a pair of //very// worn-looking shoes. They'd look premium enough, were it not for the signs of their aggressive and frequent use. They're practically caked in dirt, the stuff extending past them and onto the boy's bare shins--he's wearing trousers that stop halfway down his legs. They're perhaps not the best for staying clean, but you get the sense that this boy really doesn't care about cleanliness anyway. "Only had 'em a few months." Sam giggles, "My pa says he spends more on shoes for me than anythin' else, //and// that I should just walk around without 'em on!" You wince. "Wouldn't that hurt?" Sam shrugs nonchalantly. "Oh, yeah, a bit! Done it a few times, but I run faster with shoes." That makes sense. Something he said earlier comes to mind now, though. "Did you say that you were my neighbour, Sam?" Sam's eyebrows lift and he seems to //vibrate// with excitement, his shoulders moving around giddily. He just can't seem to stay still. "Oh, yeah! I saw the new house before I came out here. It's, uh..." He pauses, scratching his chin like he's trying to find something polite to say, "tall, ain't it? I guess yours is too, right? The green one?" You nod. "That's where we all live." Sam grimaces in thought before eagerly continuing his ramblings, "All //three// of you live in there? S'only me and my pa in our house and I think even that's a little small, though I guess we're gonna have our whole shop on the bottom floor, too." That's right! A week or two ago you'd learned, with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>>, that the man that was moving with his child was a merchant. That would obviously mean that Sam is the very same person you'd heard about, that day. <<if $chap2OtherKid == "like">>The one you'd been excited to meet. As for first impressions... [[🌞++ It seems your excitement was well-placed. Sam's great! He's funny and boisterous, and he obviously likes the outdoors.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 10, $samChap2Opinion to "fond"]] [[🌞++❤️ It seems your excitement was well-placed. There's something... inexplicable, about Sam that you like, aside from how friendly and excitable he is.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 6, $samRomance to 1, $samChap2Opinion to "fond", $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]] [[🌞-- Your earlier excitement has died away, now. You're not all that fond of Sam so far. He's... a bit much.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 6, $samChap2Opinion to "unfond"]] [[🌞=❤️ You're really not sure what to think of the boy, yet. Despite that, there's something about him that makes you want to keep talking.|SamScene5][$samRomance to 1, $samChap2Opinion to "unsure", $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]] [[🌞= You're really not sure what to think of the boy, yet.|SamScene5][$samChap2Opinion to "unsure"]]<<elseif $chap2OtherKid == "dislike">>The one you'd been apprehensive towards meeting. As for first impressions... [[🌞++ It seems your apprehension was unfounded. Sam's great! He's funny and boisterous, and he obviously likes the outdoors.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 6, $samChap2Opinion to "fond"]] [[🌞++❤️ It seems your apprehension was unfounded. There's something... inexplicable about Sam that you like, aside from how friendly and excitable he is.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 6, $samRomance to 1, $samChap2Opinion to "fond"]] [[🌞-- Your earlier apprehension has been proven correct. You're not all that fond of Sam, so far. He's... a bit much.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 6, $samChap2Opinion to "unfond"]] [[🌞=❤️ You're really not sure what to think of the boy, yet. Despite that, there's something about him that makes you want to keep talking.|SamScene5][$samRomance to 1, $samChap2Opinion to "unsure", $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]] [[🌞= You're really not sure what to think of the boy, yet.|SamScene5][$samChap2Opinion to "unsure"]]<<elseif $chap2OtherKid == "neutral">>The one you'd been unsure of meeting. As for first impressions... [[🌞++ Your mixed thoughts have been cleared away. Sam's great! He's funny and boisterous, and he obviously likes the outdoors.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 6, $samChap2Opinion to "fond"]] [[🌞++❤️ Your mixed thoughts have been cleared away. There's something... inexplicable about Sam that you like, aside from how friendly and excitable he is.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 6, $samRomance to 1, $samChap2Opinion to "fond", $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]] [[🌞-- Your mixed thoughts have turned sour. You're not all that fond of Sam, so far. He's... a bit much.|SamScene5][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 10, $samChap2Opinion to "unfond"]] [[🌞=❤️ You're really not sure what to think of the boy, still. Despite that, there's something about him that makes you want to keep talking.|SamScene5][$samRomance to 1, $samChap2Opinion to "unsure", $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]] [[🌞= You're really not sure what to think of the boy, still.|SamScene5][$samChap2Opinion to "unsure"]]<</if>>

You fall into step with the boy, who smiles warmly at your following of him. It doesn't take long to reach the clearing; a log lays on the forest floor, illuminated by the sun from above. The boy bounds over and plants himself on it, patting the log at his side for you to take a seat, so you do. "Forgot to mention! I," He points at himself, "am Samuel Alban, s'nice to meet you!" He looks over to you, sat at his side on the impromptu bench, and reaches a hand across, presumably for you to shake. [[🌞+ Shake his hand eagerly. He's so friendly! (Cold -)|CalmSam3][$samHandshake to "yesB", $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Shake his hand gingerly. You're not too sure about this boy, but he seems nice enough. (Cold -, Cautious +)|CalmSam3][$samHandshake to "yesN", $cautious to $cautious + 3, $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Stare warily at his hand before ultimately shaking it, dubiously. (Cold +, Cautious +)|CalmSam3][$samHandshake to "yesS", $cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞= You would shake his hand, but you're nervous. (Cold +, Cautious +)|CalmSam3][$samHandshake to "noN", $cold to $cold + 5, $cautious to $cautious + 3]] [[🌞- Stare blankly at the boy. You're not going to shake his hand. (Cold +)|CalmSam3][$samHandshake to "noB", $cold to $cold + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

<<if $samHandshake == "yesB">>You clasp his hand in yours and he enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. His hand is very warm, and he keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesN">>You pause a moment, looking nervously at his outstretched hand. He seems to notice your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. That ultimately convinces you and you gingerly reach out before clasping his hand in yours. The boy enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. "See? I don't bite!" He jokes at your slight reluctance to shake his hand earlier. He keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake, but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesS">>You cast a sly look at the boy's hand, measuring the odds of him trying to pull a trick on you. Your icy wall is met by the boy's warm, sunny onslaught of a grin and, eventually, you relent. You shake the boy's hand slowly, like he's covered in poison. He's not actually done anything to gain your ire, other than sneak up on you. His grin widens, if that's possible, and he exclaims, "I don't bite, y'know!" He shakes your hand up and down enthusiastically before letting go, though his grin doesn't diminish one bit.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noB">>You just stare blankly at the boy, and he waits a few seconds with his hand held out before dropping it limply, pretending it's far heavier than it actually is. "I don't bite, but you don't have to shake it if you don't wanna." He smiles kindly.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noN">>You look apprehensively at his outstretched hand. Why would you shake the hand of someone who snuck up on you? The boy notices your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. When you still don't shake it, he gives up. "That's okay, you don't have to shake it." He says simply, smiling once that's done with.<</if>> The boy--Samuel, you remind yourself--speaks first. "Oh! Forgot to say, my proper name's Samuel, //buuut// nobody really ever calls me that, 'cept my pa. You can just call me Sam, instead! //But//," his blue eyes narrow, "don't ever call me Sammy!" He warns, scowling non-seriously. "Nah, I just don't like Sammy much, but I don't actually mind it. My pa says I've gotta tell people my proper full name //first//." He makes a sour expression, but evidently follows this rule, even with other children. "Anyway, what's //your// name, starey?" Sam smiles expectantly at you. //Even his smile's bright//, you think. "I'm $firstname." You offer. His smile actually grows, if that's possible. "Nice name! You got a surname, $firstname? Or should I just call you $firstname, The Weird-Stream-Starer?" Sam's own joke seems to jostle his own humour particularly effectively, and he giggles feverishly while hugging himself for a second so he doesn't end up doubling over. "I wasn't staring for //no// reason--" You start, but Sam waves your argument away. "I'm kidding! You should tell me your last name, though. I might just start callin' you that all the time if not." He chuckles. "It's $lastname. I'm $firstname $lastname." Sam's eyes widen in realization--or recognition, perhaps. "$lastname? Like the <<if $mentor == "Callen">>big funny beardy man in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Uncle Callen and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Uncle Callen." You confirm. His head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //uncle//?<<if $haircolour == "light brown" or $haircolour == "medium brown" and $eyecolour == "grey">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like him."<</if>> You clarify for him, "He's not my blood uncle or anything, he just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So he's like your pa, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Aunt Sonia too, only she's not here right now." "Oh, is she like your ma? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but she does take care of me just like Uncle Callen. He's just around the most." <<else>> scary-lookin' lady with the sword in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Aunt Sonia and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Aunt Sonia." You confirm. Sam's head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //aunt//?<<if $haircolour == "ash blonde" and $eyecolour == "dark green" or $eyecolour == "light green">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like her."<</if>> You clarify for him, "She's not my blood aunt or anything, she just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So she's like your ma, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Uncle Callen too, only he's not here right now." "Oh, is he like your pa? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but he does take care of me just like Aunt Sonia. She's just around the most."<</if>> "Huh." Sam says simply. "Well, I think we might be neighbours, then! My pa's moving us in to the house next to it. I met that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen man<<else>>Sonia lady<</if>> once the carriage dropped us off. Spent a few minutes talkin' until my pa told me I could go explore 'round here for a bit. It was //well// boring back there! But pa let me walk here, an' I'd say it's a good job I did!" He says, gesturing vaguely towards you as a sign of his good fortunes. "He let you walk //here// from //there//?" That's... tough to believe. "Oh, sure!" Sam chirps as if it's the most normal thing in the entire world. "He lets me go lots of places on my own. Our old home was pretty safe, an' I'm fast anyway. No weird people are catchin' me!" He grins sunnily, before turning more serious. "Uh, is it safe here, too?" He asks, seeking some small comfort in a new place in the one person he might be able to trust to give an honest answer: another child. You shrug. "I haven't heard of anything bad happening in Sola." [[Next|SamScene4]]

<<if $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>He's certainly made a good one. You watch Sam chatter away for a moment<<if $samRomance == 1>>, trying to push down the flutter in your stomach as you look at him.<<else>>, talking about something you aren't entirely focused on.<</if>> As far as boys go, he's a nice one. He grins when he notices you're looking at him, and you smile back. Perhaps you'll become proper friends.<<elseif $camChap2Opinion == "unfond">>You watch Sam chatter away for a moment, irritation bubbling in your gut. He's... //too much//. He grins when he notices you're looking at him, but you offer no response. You are //definitely// not a fan.<<elseif $samChap2Opinion == "unsure">>You watch Sam chatter away for a moment, still not quite sure what to make of this energetic boy. As far as other kids go, you suppose he's alright<<if $samRomance == 1>>, though it's difficult to ignore the flutter in your stomach as you look at him, regardless. You might need to warm up to him, and the feeling in your gut tells you it might be worth the effort.<<else>>.<</if>><</if>> "Hey, you listenin'?" You suddenly find the boy directly in front of you, hunched over slightly with his hands on his knees even though he's stood up. He leans over, peering at you like an interesting creature he'd find while exploring. His head's tilted slightly as if emphasizing his earlier question. <<if $cold > 50>>You huff indignantly. "I was listening!" You defend yourself, slightly irritated that he noticed your distractedness. This boy is more perceptive than you'd thought. "If you say so, daydreamer!" Sam chuckles, sitting back down at your side. "I was askin' if it's true that the Veil's //super// bright here. I've heard it is, but I've never seen it myself, you know? Oh, maybe I'll see it tonight if it isn't cloudy!" He seems to be reasoning more with himself than you at this point, having already made his mind up on the matter before you could even offer an answer. Still, it feels right to give one. "I've never seen it from the surface... but it is bright here." His eyes narrow in scrutiny at your answer. "What d'you mean?" You just stare at him in confusion for a moment before realising it--he doesn't understand you've lived here your //whole// life. "I've never been to the surface, I mean." You punctuate your answer with a light shrug. It's just how things are.<<else>>You blink at Sam, sheepishly rubbing the back of your head before answering: "Sorry, I was just thinking..." He sits back down and taps his hands up and down on the log in some strange, discordant rhythm as he smiles at you. "What about?" <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your cheeks heat and you look away from him for a moment as you answer. "Nothing..."<<else>>"Nothing, really." You chirp back at him, matching his cheery demeanour with your own to seem nonchalant.<</if>> "If you say so, daydreamer!" Sam chuckles, continuing to tap his hands up and down, treating the old log like a drum. "I was just askin' if it's true that the Veil's //super// bright here. I've heard it is, but I've never seen it myself, you know? Oh, maybe I'll see it tonight if it isn't cloudy!" He seems to be reasoning more with himself than you at this point, having already made his mind up on the matter before you could even offer an answer. Still, it feels right to give one. "I've never seen it from the surface... but it is bright here." His eyes narrow in scrutiny at your answer. "What d'you mean?" You just stare at him in confusion for a moment before realising it--he doesn't understand you've lived here your //whole// life. "I've never been to the surface, I mean." You offer an apologetic look and a light shrug of your shoulders. It's just how things are.<</if>> Sam's blue eyes nearly pop out of his head. He leans over again, half-yelling, "You've //''never''// been to the surface?" [[Just nod. That's what you said, isn't it? (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene19Stub][$stubborn to $stubborn + 3]] [["That is what I said." You chuckle at having to affirm something you'd basically just told him. Maybe he didn't hear you right. (Stubborn -)|Chap2Scene19Yiel][$stubborn to $stubborn - 3]] [["Now that you mention it, I actually have been there! Plenty of times!" The joking tone is clear in your voice, and you wink to fully confirm your jest. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene19Sarc][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[Lean back nervously, hands flinching to cover your ears. He's being loud. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene19LoudA][$cautious to $cautious + 3]] [[Lean back indignantly. "You're being loud." You tell him firmly. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene19LoudB][$patient to $patient - 3]]

You fall into step with the boy, who smiles warmly at your following of him. It doesn't take long to reach the clearing; a log lays on the forest floor, illuminated by the sun from above. The boy bounds over and plants himself on it, patting the log at his side for you to take a seat, so you do... cautiously. "Forgot to mention! I," He points at himself, "am Samuel Alban, s'nice to meet you!" He looks over to you, sat at his side on the impromptu bench, and reaches a hand across, presumably for you to shake. [[🌞+ Shake his hand eagerly. He's so friendly! (Cold -)|QuickSam3][$samHandshake to "yesB", $cold to $cold - 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Shake his hand gingerly. You're not too sure about this boy, but he seems nice enough. (Cold -, Cautious +)|QuickSam3][$samHandshake to "yesN", $cautious to $cautious + 3, $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Stare warily at his hand before ultimately shaking it, dubiously. (Cold +, Cautious +)|QuickSam3][$samHandshake to "yesS", $cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞= You would shake his hand, but you're nervous. (Cold +, Cautious +)|QuickSam3][$samHandshake to "noN", $cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 5]] [[🌞- Stare blankly at the boy. You're not going to shake his hand. (Cold +)|QuickSam3][$samHandshake to "noB", $cold to $cold + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

''//Weeks later...//'' //24th of Igna, AR 1490// //Training room, Home// <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>A thin bead of sweat gathers on your forehead, trickling its agonisingly slow journey down your brow before being caught on your thick cotton blindfold, soaking into the fabric immediately. There is absolute silence, save for your harried breathing. "Ow!" You yelp as the thin wooden sword, more like a cane, slaps against your arm again. Your stance falters, earning you another tap, this time on your bare knuckle. "Ah!" "Maintain your stance and you won't be hit." The firm voice rings out from behind you. You turn quickly to face it, holding your own training sword out in front of you with a fierce two-handed grip. The next few seconds are a tortorous wait, listening for the shifting of your assailant's feet, the minute change in her breathing as your assailant readies another strike. It's excruciatingly easy to lose track of her, you'd not known she could ever be this light-footed but somehow she manages to whisk around you like a cat, the only signal of her location being the occasional creak of a floorboard that she'll probably have fixed for next session. Then, there's an intake of breath - almost imperceptible - as she readies another strike. You bring your training sword up, tensing the muscles in your back and arms to keep your guard strong and... The swords connect! The satisfying //clack// of the sturdy oak weapons rings in your ears, and you gasp from the surprise of it actually working. You have little time to celebrate though, as the weapon moves away from your own and this patient dance of listening and reacting begins anew. After a few more successful blocks and far, far more unsuccessful ones, the hits stop coming. "Blindfold off, $firstname." Aunt Sonia's voice comes from directly in front of you, and you come face to face with her vaguely proud expression, scarred mouth slightly crooked as she appraises you. "You did well. You're starting to build a guard, but your courage needs work, //that// is half the game when you're fighting defensively." You soak up the praise and criticism in equal measure; you've certainly done better than you have before with this exercise, but you evidently still need to put the work in to improve. "Why do we do this exercise, again?" You ask, rubbing some of your sore spots. You don't want to imagine what going against her in a real fight would be like. "Call it muscle memory." She speaks while taking your training swords to the rack, wearing a light training outfit similar to yours--a simple padded shirt with some trousers that don't restrict movement. You both wear soft slippers that provide a good amount of grip on the smooth wooden floor of the room, just as bare as it was three years ago. "Building a routine in your body to assume correct guard stances, even when blinded, will make you a better defensive fighter and in a real fight, give you that //extra// edge of reactivity. If you can fight well with your eyes closed, you'll be a damned terror with them open, right?" You smile as a blind swordfighter comes to mind, like some of the stories you've read. She continues. "You've got to remember that most people are, quite frankly, pretty //shit// in a fight, pardon my Telfrini. They'll learn the fundamentals and rely on those for the rest of their lives. We," she gestures with her thumb, pointing it between the two of you, "learn to exploit that complacency." "Right." You nod, panting slightly from the extertion of the training. Aunt Sonia isn't a particularly yielding teacher, but you can't deny the improvments you've seen even in the past few months. "Let me see your arms." She asks, coming over to you with a small flask and rag. You untie the strings keeping the sleeves of your training shirt together, letting them roll up. Aunt Sonia whistles quietly as she appraises the dark splotches just appearing all over the $skintone skin of your arms. She looks into your eyes and asks with what may be the most sarcasm you've heard from her, "You sore?" You just roll your eyes while trying to stifle a smile, holding your marked arms out for her. She pops the cork of the dark glass flask, a smell like wet grass wafting out of the opaque container. Then, she puts the rag on the end of the bottle, tilting it upside-down for a few seconds to let the odd-smelling liquid flow into the cloth, saturating it with its contents. Once it's properly soaked in, she tilts it back and removes the rag, holding it over your arm. "You ready, kid? Deep breath in." [[Next|Chap2Scene10Son]]<<else>>''Clack!'' ''Clack!'' ''Clack!'' Your wooden sword whacks against the dummy, again and again, alternating between its weakpoints on the head, armpits and midsection to its joints on the elbows and knees. Off to the side, Uncle Callen watches silently, occasionally interjecting with a small adjustment to your form here and there. After a few more minutes of this, he stops you, having you hand him the wooden sword. "Good work so far, $callenChild. Your form's improvin', but I can tell //something// needs work." He grins at you almost maniacally as he grabs a set of long, wooden sticks from the training weapon rack. "Let's find out, eh?" You blink. "We're training with sticks?" "Staves, $callenChild." He says with an air of reverence not typical of, well, sticks. He gently hands you one of them, and you test the weight of the thing in your hands. "What are we doing with them?" "You," he lightly taps you on the top of the head with his own staff, "are goin' to practice crowd control." "What's //that//?" He puts his staff behind his shoulders, leaning both his arms on the long shaft of the weapon as he speaks. "Ye've read books where the hero fights off fifteen attackers, all at once, yeah?" You nod. They're fun. Uncle Callen hums. "Well, real fights ain't like that, not unless ye're in a royal mess of a situation. Nobody's strong as ten men, nobody's got t'power to cut through a horde of opponents on their own, $callenChild. //But//," he lifts one finger, lazily, "Bladeweavers can get damned close. Empyrean steel's stronger, sharper, lighter than anythin' else and it don't come close, eh?" "I guess so." You shrug, you've never actually held it--you won't for a long while. He continues. "Well, with Empyrean in the mix, fightin' multiple attackers ain't such a distant possibility, it's //likely//, $callenChild. There ain't many Bladeweavers compared to regular people, and it's a dangerous job. So, this's gonna teach ye the basics of keepin' on yer toes, stayin' mobile while keepin' track of however many buggers are harrying ye, alright?" That said, he pulls a stone out of his pocket, bringing it to his mouth and uttering the words, "//bethacdh, glusach, preon...//". It's an odd language, but it sounds as natural as the Common Tongue coming from him. All of a sudden, the dummy in front of you starts to //move//, as do the others! The stone Uncle Callen holds in his palm fizzes with energy that sounds as a low hum in your ears. You quickly glance around as two more wooden pursuers amble across the wooden floor of the training room to you. Uncle Callen speaks, "Now, $callenChild. These things'll follow my command, so I'll show ye what I want t'see and then ye can have a run at it yourself, aye?" That's more than okay to you. He can fight all the dummies he wants. [[Next|Chap2Scene10Cal]]<</if>>

You comply, breathing in deep as she dabs the wet rag to the sore areas of your arms. There's a strange burn that makes you wince a little, and then a tingling as that burn ebbs away into a cool, numbing sensation. The marks already look a little better now, the colour fading into the more usual $skintone of your arms. Aunt Sonia nods and rubs the solution in with a clean part of the rag. "Good as new, eh? Let your arms air out for a bit and then you can go and wash this stuff off." She shakes the bottle, now corked again, and puts it back on her belt. It's a healing salve, magically infused by Aunt Sonia's favourite potionmaker after she stopped getting them from Archer--she was //not// happy when they decided to give one of their potions skin-dyeing effects last year. You've read that Risen magic is great for things like this--potions, runic magic and wards, lending itself to improving systems or replacing them altogether. It's less effective in combat, unable to be casted on a whim like ... other forms of magic. Though you've heard of protective wards being cast on armour and weapons alike, allowing people to train at full force with proper weaponry and armour but with none of the risk of harm, since the wards applied to both armour and weapon work in tandem to stop the blade just before a harming blow can be done. After you've freshened up, washing the salve off once it's done its job and tied your sleeves back up again, you're back in the training room with Aunt Sonia, who holds a thicker set of training swords - one appropriate for her size and one for yours. In the middle of the room stands a set of training dummies<<if $chap1Hobby == "dummy">>, each far sturdier than the one you used to have as a little $child<<else>>, fit for proper, hard training with weaponry.<</if>> There's one your size and one that's sized to Aunt Sonia. It seems she intends to run you through offensive training, now. "Catch." She calls out, before tossing your sword to you. It sails sideways through the air, directly at you. //[[Instinct...|Chap2Scene10.5Son]]

Her stab is quick, her entire body coiled up like a tightly-wound spring that bursts forward with an explosion of power and, just as the telltale ''thwack'' of the wooden sword hitting the sturdy dummy's shoulder rings out, her stance shifts to quickly bring the blade up and then right back down on the same spot she stabbed with an even louder smack. As soon as that chop connects, she withdraws with a single step, bringing her blade back into the ready position. All of that, in just a handful of seconds. If there's one word you could use to describe how she fights, it would be //powerful//. She throws her entire body into her moves, but never appears reckless. Each lunge, each step, is considered. When she duels Uncle Callen, each of them wielding a wooden version of their weapon of choice, she cannot match his surprising quickness so instead opts to fight a war of attrition against him, harrying his poleaxe with her falchion's hard-hitting chops and feints. Their duels often end in draws, equally matched as they are, but you've seen her edge out victory simply by fighting tactically and overwhelming her opponent after drawing a fight out or taking them by surprise with a risky but calculated move. She's the picture of aggressiveness, throwing everything into a fight and almost //willing// a victory to happen out of nothing. She fights like nobody you've ever seen, and she aims to impart this fighting philosophy upon you, too. One of reactivity, striking first or, if all else fails, simply striking //more//. Aunt Sonia glances back at you, adjusting her bandana and giving a quick nod at your own dummy. "Your turn. Follow what I did as best you can, alright?" "Okay." You huff resolutely, shifting your mind to follow the preparedness of your body. You are hard-set, ready to strike. And then, you do. You exhale quickly on the lunge, your sword whacking the dummy in the shoulder, sending it off-balance slightly, as you draw it back and shift into the chopping position, blade held up and behind you slightly only to be brought back down - only it hits the dummy's head this time, not its shoulder. The difference in positioning throws you off slightly, and you reel a bit before stepping back into the proper retreating position. [["Again."|Chap2Scene12Son]]

//Strength increase.// You sit on the floor, out of breath and leaned against the wall as you sip cool water from a big cup. It's delicious, and sorely needed on a warm day like this. The sound of the city outside is a calm bustle audible through the open windows of the training room. Aunt Sonia stands at your side, scribbling into a notebook - presumably notes on your performance today. "You've done well, $firstname. Powerful strikes are a sure-fire way to win a duel quick." You just nod, unable to really formulate any sentences at this point. [[🦅++ You love Aunt Sonia, and training with her is harsh but rewarding. She brings out the best in you.|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🦅++ You love Aunt Sonia, but training with her isn't your favourite thing. It's like being a soldier, or something!|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🦅-- As much as you aren't fond of Aunt Sonia, training with her is rewarding but harsh. She brings out the best in you.|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🦅-- You're as fond of Aunt Sonia as you are of training with her. It's a downright ordeal.|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🦅= Regardless of your thoughts on Aunt Sonia, training with her is harsh but rewarding. She brings out the best in you.|Chap2Scene13Son][$chap2Training to "like"]] [[🦅= Regardless of your thoughts on Aunt Sonia, training with her isn't your favourite thing. It's a downright ordeal.|Chap2Scene13Son][$chap2Training to "dislike"]]

//Finesse increase.// You sit on the floor, out of breath and leaned against the wall as you sip cool water from a big cup. It's delicious, and sorely needed on a warm day like this. The sound of the city outside is a calm bustle audible through the open windows of the training room. Aunt Sonia stands at your side, scribbling into a notebook - presumably notes on your performance today. "You've done well, $firstname. Improved control of your strikes without sacrificing timing is key to winning duels." You just nod, unable to really formulate any sentences at this point. [[🦅++ You love Aunt Sonia, and training with her is harsh but rewarding. She brings out the best in you.|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🦅++ You love Aunt Sonia, but training with her isn't your favourite thing. It's like being a soldier, or something!|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🦅-- As much as you aren't fond of Aunt Sonia, training with her is rewarding but harsh. She brings out the best in you.|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🦅-- You're as fond of Aunt Sonia as you are of training with her. It's a downright ordeal.|Chap2Scene13Son][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🦅= Regardless of your thoughts on Aunt Sonia, training with her is harsh but rewarding. She brings out the best in you.|Chap2Scene13Son][$chap2Training to "like"]] [[🦅= Regardless of your thoughts on Aunt Sonia, training with her isn't your favourite thing. It's a downright ordeal.|Chap2Scene13Son][$chap2Training to "dislike"]]

"Again." Aunt Sonia's neutral voice beckons at your side. You don't look at her, solely focused on your wooden opponent, tightening your arms and back once more, shifting into the lunging stance before thrusting your sword, hitting the dummy's shoulder and more carefully bringing your weapon up this time, the chop connecting properly. You shift back, bringing your sword back to the neutral position, and look to Aunt Sonia this time. She tilts her head slightly and nods. "Better, but //slower//. Find the balance, and stay in that zone." You nod, sweat already beginning to gather at your brow. This is going to be a long session. [[You train in improving the strength of your strikes, using your raw power to assault the dummy. (Strength +)|Chap2Scene12SonS][$strength to $strength + 1]] [[You train in improving your hand-eye coordination, carefully controlling your blade so it goes exactly where you will it. (Finesse +)|Chap2Scene12SonD][$finesse to $finesse + 1]]

<<if $chap2Training == "like">>You're big on training<<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>, certainly more than you are on archery.<<else>>, in any of its forms--archery included.<</if>><<elseif $chap2Training == "dislike">>You aren't overly fond of this form of training<<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>, or any other form of it--archery included.<<else>>, but at least you have archery to look forward to.<</if>><</if>> The sudden sound of a commotion outside draws the two of you to the open window, though you're not exactly tall enough to look out of it. <<if $soniaClose >= 60>> Aunt Sonia notices your predicament and snorts, gesturing to you to lift your arms up. You do so, and she hooks her hands under your arms to lift you, not without digging her fingers in for a moment, the tickling making you squirm. "Hey!" You yell, giggling even though she's already stopped. "What'd I do?" She says, faux-cluelessness etched on her face, plain as day. She's a pretty bad liar. She smirks at you, looking back out of the window at whatever it is that made the noise. Down below, amidst the usual hustle and bustle of a Solan street, is that familiar group of men who'd been moving those crates into the empty home next to yours, a couple of weeks ago. They're now carrying smaller, fancier-looking boxes, perhaps full of personal items rather than whatever wares they sell as merchants. "Looks like Mister Merchant and his spawn are moving in soon, huh? Joy." She deadpans, unceremoniously dropping you once you've gotten a good enough look. "C'mon, kid. I guess we should make ourselves presentable, it's no good for <<if $agab == "male">>a //lady// like me to look so unpresentable, huh?"<<else>>//ladies// like us to look so unpresentable, huh?"<</if>> Her fake haughty tone draws a laugh from you as you follow her out of the training room and downstairs, splitting off from her as you enter your room to wash up and change your clothing.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 59 and $soniaClose >= 45 >> Aunt Sonia notices your predicament and snorts, gesturing to you to lift your arms up. You do so, and she hooks her hands under your arms to lift you, not without digging her fingers in for a moment, the tickling making you squirm. "Hey!" You yell, shooting her a dark look. "Alright, simmer down, kid. Sorry." She doesn't look very apologetic, and looks back out of the window at whatever it is that made the noise.Down below, amidst the usual hustle and bustle of a Solan street, is that familiar group of men who'd been moving those crates into the empty home next to yours, a couple of weeks ago. They're now carrying smaller, fancier-looking boxes, perhaps full of personal items rather than whatever wares they sell as merchants. "Looks like Mister Merchant and his spawn are moving in soon, huh? What joy." She deadpans, unceremoniously dropping you once you've gotten a good enough look. "C'mon, kid. I guess we should make ourselves presentable, it's no good for <<if $agab == "male">>a //lady// like me to look so unpresentable, huh?"<<else>>//ladies// like us to look so unpresentable, huh?"<</if>> Her fake haughty tone draws a slight chuckle from you as you follow her out of the training room and downstairs, splitting off from her as you enter your room to wash up and change your clothing.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 44>>Aunt Sonia notices your predicament and snorts, gesturing to you to lift your arms up. You shake your head, stepping back a little. "You can just tell me what you see." "Suit yourself, kid." She says nonchalantly, looking outside once more as you wait for her to relay the view. "Looks like Mister Merchant and his spawn are moving in soon. Lots of guys with fancy-looking boxes, probably full of his personal stuff rather than his wares. Joy." She deadpans, unceremoniously turning away and gesturing for you to follow. "C'mon, kid. I guess we should make ourselves presentable, it's no good for <<if $agab == "male">>a //lady// like me to look so unpresentable, huh?"<<else>>//ladies// like us to look so unpresentable, huh?"<</if>> Her fake haughty tone doesn't draw any response from you as you follow her out of the training room and downstairs, splitting off from her as you enter your room to wash up and change your clothing.<</if>> Taking a moment to activate the warming rune on a smooth, palm-sized stone on the bench next to your freshly-filled basin, you look at the surface of the water in it for a moment. The basin isn't exactly large--you might have fit in it for baths a while ago, but now you just scrub yourself with a wet cloth instead--but it's deep enough for there to be clear reflections on the surface. [[That's when you notice it. The reflection.|Chap2Scene13Son2]]

You shuffle to the side as Uncle Callen faces the three dummies, looking oddly human in their approaches. Their wide feet seem unsuited for actually moving around, but they manage, clacking their way towards the scruffy-looking warrior, dressed in a light training shirt, same as you. The magic that accomplishes this is Risen magic, of course. It allows enchantments of objects like this, but its applications would be wasted on making dummies move. The magic is more suited to potions and other enchantments, runic magic and wards, lending itself to improving systems or replacing them altogether. It's less effective in combat, unable to be casted on a whim like ... other forms of magic. Though you've heard of protective wards being cast on armour and weapons alike, allowing people to train at full force with proper weaponry and armour but with none of the risk of harm, since the wards applied to both armour and weapon work in tandem to stop the blade just before a harming blow can be done. Uncle Callen holds his staff with two hands, far apart on the shaft of the weapon. He circles around the three dummies slowly, keeping a wide stance as he shifts around smoothly. The dummies, to their credit, become more aggressive in their pursuit, trying to circle around him and surround him. When one gets too close, he whacks at it with his staff, quickly and decisively. You realise that, in terms of stance, this staff isn't too dissimilar for his weapon of choice, the poleaxe, only that weapon has an axe-head, hammer //and// two spikes at each end of the weapon! It'd be a vicious thing even if it wasn't made of Empyrean steel, which makes it //that// bit more dangerous. Empyrean steel's most famed property is its magical ability to attune to its wielder, becoming feather-light for them but far heavier for anyone else, which is why it's so destructive, it's like being hit by //ten// swords' worth of sword, essentially. It also makes Empyrean weapons superbly difficult for anyone who isn't related to the wielder to use. You'd seen Aunt Sonia try to lift Uncle Callen's poleaxe for you to demonstrate, and she said it felt like trying to pick up an ox. You're not sure //why// people related to the wielder of the weapon can use it, but you assume you'll find out one day. [[Next|Chap2Scene10.5Cal]]

One by one, the dummies begin surrounding you, their blank wooden faces resolute in their quest. You follow Uncle Callen's example, keeping a wide stance and almost skipping around the dummies as you evade their advances. They do speed up, though, and you have to start using your weapon. A quick whack to one of the dummies' legs sends it crashing to the floor momentarily, and you use the opportunity to focus on its allies, who are closing in. You narrowly duck a wooden hand grabbing for you and dash back, keeping an eye on all three of your opponents. By now, the dummy you knocked over has gotten up, and it seems almost //angry//, pursuing you quicker than the other two. Uncle Callen watches with a hand scratching his bearded chin, grey eyes focused on your ordeal. He likes to joke but it's obvious that he's giving this some serious scrutiny. As you were focused on him, it seems the dummies have gotten even closer! They're each within an arm's reach, now. You lost focus, and now you're going to pay for it. You try to make a drastic dash past the group, but one of them grips the sleeve of your padded training shirt as you move past, miraculously not gripping quite firmly enough for you to slip through, though you stumble from the force. <<if $agility == 1>>//Agility...// //Success.// You're nimble enough to steady yourself, avoiding an embarrassing fall and you quickly look behind your shoulder to see if the dummies still pursue you. They do not. They must have been commanded to stop when it looked like you were going to fall. Uncle Callen ambles over, glancing at you. "Y'alright, $callenChild?" "Yep!" You peep, gesturing at yourself. "Didn't even fall." "Go on then," he points back at the dummies, "back at it. Remember, focus on the group, but keep that focus divided. Whoever's closest, you focus on the most."<<else>>//Agility...// //Failure.// "Agh!" You clatter to the floor, much like one of the dummies did earlier. You look up to see if they're still pursuing you, but they stand stone-still now. Uncle Callen walks over, peering down at you. "Y'alright, $callenChild?" You nod. It was just a light fall. "I think so." <<if $volatile >= 60>>Oh, you're going to show these dummies what's what, now. Nobody makes you fall over without commeupance.<<else>><</if>> "C'mon then," he offers a hand which you take, letting him pull you to a standing position, "back at it. Remember, focus on the group, but keep that focus //divided//. Whoever's closest, ye focus on the most. Group combat's a mental battle just as much as a physical one, $callenChild."<</if>> You nod again, biting your bottom lip in concentration. "Got it." "I'm gonna time ye for three minutes. Try an' avoid 'em til' then, eh? No more gettin' caught." He grins, <<if $callenClose <=40>>and you roll your eyes. You'll show him.<<else>>and you grin right back, his challenge accepted in the strongest terms.<</if>> The dummies pursue you once more, and this time you keep a respectable distance at all times, using your staff when you need but otherwise staying mobile and away from them. The dummies, as before, speed up until they're as swift as they were when you were last caught. You last a little longer this time, but one of the dummies unexpectedly lunges forward, clipping your outstretched leg in the middle of a dodge. "Run it again, $callenChild!" Uncle Callen calls out from the side of the room. "Remember, the staff ain't just a pretty stick!" [[Next|Chap2Scene12Cal]]

You huff and puff. All this running around is getting to be tiring. Still, though, you //know// you can do it this time. One more try is all it'll take, you're certain. The drill continues as before, the dummies speed up as before, you dodge and weave and hit them as before, until... One dummy lies prone on the ground, and two are quite //rapidly// coming towards you. You... [[Focus on the closer one to your left, hitting it with a single powerful strike from the side to send it into the other dummy as it moves. (Strength +)|Chap2Scene12CalS][$strength to $strength + 1]] [[You have a staff, use it! You're dexterous enough to use the weapon on both ends, hitting each dummy with a well-placed strike at the same time. (Finesse +)|Chap2Scene12CalD][$finesse to $finesse + 1]]

//Finesse increase.// Your determined grimace morphs into a cunning grin as you formulate your plan. As the first dummy comes within range, you dodge to the right, directly into the path of the other one. You grip your staff with a tight, wide grip as you ready your strike. Just as each dummy is //about// to grab you, you thrust both ends of the weapon out, managing to catch both dummies in a weak spot at the same time! The dummies topple in tandem with the satisfying sound of wood clattering to the ground. You triumphantly raise your staff above your head like a trophy as Uncle Callen calls "Time!". You drop the staff with a clatter and walk over to the wall, slumping down exhaustedly. Uncle Callen gives you a cup to drink some cool water from, and you eagerly take it. "Smart thinkin', $callenChild. Risky, but smart. Really took perfect coordination to get that done, but ye did it." He nods approvingly. You smile to yourself, just soaking in the praise - though Uncle Callen's never slow to offer it anyway. [[🐺++ You love Uncle Callen, and training with him is always interesting. He's a great teacher.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose + 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🐺++ You love Uncle Callen, but you're not a fan of training with him. He isn't a very good teacher in your opinion.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose + 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🐺-- As much as you aren't fond of Uncle Callen, training with him is always interesting. He's a great teacher, loathe as you are to admit it.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose - 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🐺-- You're as fond of Uncle Callen as you are of training with him. He's a bad teacher.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose - 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🐺= Regardless of your thoughts on Uncle Callen, training with him is always interesting.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$chap2Training to "like"]] [[🐺= Regardless of your thoughts on Uncle Callen, training with him isn't your favourite thing.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$chap2Training to "dislike"]]

//Strength increase.// Your determined grimace morphs into a cunning grin as you formulate your plan. As the first dummy comes within range, you whirl your staff back and absolutely //smash// it into the dummy's side, causing it to careen off to its left with the movement. This sends it right into the path of the other dummy, and the two collide in a beautiful cacophany of colliding wood and leather. The two dummies lie at your feet and you raise your staff triumphantly above your head like a trophy as Uncle Callen calls "Time!". You drop the staff with a clatter and walk over to the wall, slumping down exhaustedly. Uncle Callen gives you a cup to drink some cool water from, and you eagerly take it. "Smart thinkin', $callenChild. Good strength, too. Usin' your opponents against one another means ye don't have to spend as much energy doin' it yerself." He nods approvingly. You smile to yourself, just soaking in the praise - though Uncle Callen's never to offer it anyway. [[🐺++ You love Uncle Callen, and training with him is always interesting. He's a great teacher.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose + 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🐺++ You love Uncle Callen, but you're not a fan of training with him.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose + 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🐺-- As much as you aren't fond of Uncle Callen, training with him is always interesting. He's a great teacher, loathe as you are to admit it.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose - 10, $chap2Training to "like"]] [[🐺-- You're as fond of Uncle Callen as you are of training with him. He's a bad teacher.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$callenClose to $callenClose - 10, $chap2Training to "dislike"]] [[🐺= Regardless of your thoughts on Uncle Callen, training with him is always interesting.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$chap2Training to "like"]] [[🐺= Regardless of your thoughts on Uncle Callen, training with him isn't your favourite thing.|Chap2Scene13Cal][$chap2Training to "dislike"]]

<<if $chap2Training == "like">>You're big on training<<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>, certainly more than you are on archery.<<else>>, in any of its forms--archery included.<</if>><<elseif $chap2Training == "dislike">>You aren't overly fond of this form of training<<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>, or any other form of it--archery included.<<else>>, but at least you have archery to look forward to.<</if>><</if>> The sudden sound of a commotion outside draws the two of you to the open window, though you're not exactly tall enough to look out of it. <<if $callenClose >= 60>>You raise your arms in the universally known gesture of 'lift me' and he complies, putting his big hands under your arms and easily lifting you to a height where you can see out of the window, giggling as you look down at your limply dangling legs. "What're we feedin' you, $callenChild? Bloody hell..." He grumbles jokingly while peering out at the street below alongside you. The warm midday sun on your slightly sweaty skin is slightly uncomfortable-feeling, but you ignore it to focus on your original intent: what's going on out //there.// Down below, amidst the usual hustle and bustle of a Solan street, is that familiar group of men who'd been moving those crates into the empty home next to yours, a couple of weeks ago. They're now carrying smaller, fancier-looking boxes, perhaps full of personal items rather than whatever wares they sell as merchants. "Looks like our neighbour's arrivals're imminent, $callenChild. Let's finish up here an' get ourselves proper so we can greet 'em." He sets you down gently and closes the window, the light and sound from outside cut off in an instant.<<elseif $callenClose <=59 and $callenClose >=45 >> You strain and hop a few times before realizing trying to see what's going on yourself is futile. Uncle Callen seems to notice this and, without any input from you, hooks his hands under your arms to lift you to a height you can see out of the window from. You squirm uncomfortably for a second before settling down, instead focusing on your original intent: what's going on out //there//. Down below, amidst the usual hustle and bustle of a Solan street, is that familiar group of men who'd been moving those crates into the empty home next to yours, a couple of weeks ago. They're now carrying smaller, fancier-looking boxes, perhaps full of personal items rather than whatever wares they sell as merchants. "Looks like our neighbour's arrivals're imminent, $callenChild. Let's finish up here an' get ourselves proper so we can greet 'em." He sets you down gently and closes the window, the light and sound from outside cut off in an instant.<<elseif $callenClose <= 44>>You strain and hop a few times before realizing that trying to see what's going on yourself is futile. Uncle Callen seems to notice this and, without any input from you, hooks his hands under your arms to lift you to a height you can see out of the window from. You squirm uncomfortably, shooting him a warning look to let you down, which he subsequently does. You dust yourself off haughtily and mutter, "Just tell me what you see." "Sorry, $callenChild." He smiles apologetically, but complies with your request. "Looks like our neighbour's arrivals're imminent. I can see those lads from a couple weeks ago, movin' some new boxes into the house next to ours. We'd best finish up here and get ourselves proper so we can greet 'em." He then closes the window, the light and sound from outside cut off in an instant.<</if>> You follow Uncle Callen out of the training room, heading down the stairs and splitting off from him to head into your own room where a change of clothes and a basin of clean water await you. Taking a moment to activate the warming rune on a smooth, palm-sized stone on the bench next to the basin, you look at the surface of the water for a moment. The basin isn't exactly large--you might have fit in it for baths a while ago, but now you just scrub yourself with a wet cloth instead--but it's deep enough for there to be clear reflections on the surface. [[That's when you notice it. The reflection.|Chap2Scene13Cal2]]

<<if $samHandshake == "yesB">>You clasp his hand in yours and he enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. His hand is very warm, and he keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesN">>You pause a moment, looking nervously at his outstretched hand. He seems to notice your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. That ultimately convinces you and you gingerly reach out before clasping his hand in yours. The boy enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. "See? I don't bite!" He jokes at your slight reluctance to shake his hand earlier. He keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake, but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesS">>You cast a sly look at the boy's hand, measuring the odds of him trying to pull a trick on you. Your icy wall is met by the boy's warm, sunny onslaught of a grin and, eventually, you relent. You shake the boy's hand slowly, like he's covered in poison. His grin widens, if that's possible, and he exclaims, "I don't bite, y'know!" He shakes your hand up and down enthusiastically before letting go, though his grin doesn't diminish one bit.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noB">>You just stare blankly at the boy, and he waits a few seconds with his hand held out before dropping it limply, pretending it's far heavier than it actually is. "I don't bite, but you don't have to shake it if you don't wanna." He smiles kindly.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noN">>You look apprehensively at his outstretched hand. Why would you shake the hand of someone who snuck up on you? The boy notices your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. When you still don't shake it, he gives up. "That's okay, you don't have to shake it." He says simply, smiling once that's done with.<</if>> The boy--Samuel, you remind yourself--speaks first. "Oh! Forgot to say, my proper name's Samuel, //buuut// nobody really ever calls me that, 'cept my pa. You can just call me Sam, instead! //But//," his blue eyes narrow, "don't ever call me Sammy!" He warns, scowling non-seriously. "Nah, I just don't like Sammy much, but I don't actually mind it. My pa says I've gotta tell people my proper full name //first//." He makes a sour expression, but evidently follows this rule, even with other children. "Anyway, what's //your// name, speedy?" Sam smiles expectantly at you. //Even his smile's bright//, you think. "I'm $firstname." You offer. His smile actually grows, if that's possible. "Nice name! You got a surname, $firstname? Or should I just call you $firstname, The Skittish?" Sam's own joke seems to jostle his own humour particularly effectively, and he giggles feverishly while hugging himself for a second so he doesn't end up doubling over. "I was startled--" You start, but Sam waves your argument away. "I'm kidding! You should tell me your last name, though. I might just start callin' you that all the time if not." He chuckles. "It's $lastname. I'm $firstname $lastname." Sam's eyes widen in realization--or recognition, perhaps. "$lastname? Like the <<if $mentor == "Callen">>big funny beardy man in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Uncle Callen and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Uncle Callen." You confirm. His head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //uncle//?<<if $haircolour == "light brown" or $haircolour == "medium brown" and $eyecolour == "grey">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like him."<</if>> You clarify for him, "He's not my blood uncle or anything, he just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So he's like your pa, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Aunt Sonia too, only she's not here right now." "Oh, is she like your ma? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but she does take care of me just like Uncle Callen. He's just around the most." <<else>> scary-lookin' lady with the sword in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Aunt Sonia and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Aunt Sonia." You confirm. Sam's head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //aunt//?<<if $haircolour == "ash blonde" and $eyecolour == "dark green" or $eyecolour == "light green">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like her."<</if>> You clarify for him, "She's not my blood aunt or anything, she just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So she's like your ma, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Uncle Callen too, only he's not here right now." "Oh, is he like your pa? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but he does take care of me just like Aunt Sonia. She's just around the most."<</if>> "Huh." Sam says simply. "Well, I think we might be neighbours, then! My pa's moving us in to the house next to it. I met that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen man<<else>>Sonia lady<</if>> once the carriage dropped us off. Spent a few minutes talkin' until my pa told me I could go explore 'round here for a bit. It was //well// boring back there! But pa let me walk here, an' I'd say it's a good job I did!" He says, gesturing vaguely towards you as a sign of his good fortunes. "He let you walk //here// from //there//?" That's ... tough to believe. "Oh, sure!" Sam chirps as if it's the most normal thing in the entire world. "He lets me go lots of places on my own. Our old home was pretty safe, an' I'm fast anyway. No weird people are catchin' me!" He grins sunnily, before turning more serious. "Uh, is it safe here, too?" He asks, seeking some small comfort in a new place in the one person he might be able to trust to give an honest answer: another child. You shrug. "I haven't heard of anything bad happening in Sola." [[Next|SamScene4]]

Once you're clean and changed you step downstairs lightly, catching the telltale pinging sound of your home's Channel port--it seems a message has arrived. Uncle Callen's already there by the time you're downstairs, fishing the piece of parchment of of its slot in the small contraption built into the wall, in the corner of the living area. Nearby, his poleaxe rests on a rack far out of your reach but quite comfortably within his, the dangerous-looking edges of the weapon glinting even in the shadowed corner it lives in. Like most buildings in Sola, your home has a Channel line attached to it, meaning you can send and receive messages across the landmass. Uncle Callen appraises the message with an amused twinkle in his grey eyes, reading the words, magically printed into the paper by the contraption--words you can't quite make out. Once he realises you're waiting to find out what it says, he reads them out loud, turning slightly to face you. "Home soon. Buy some good beef. Signed: You Know Who." He chuckles knowingly, looking at you. "Eloquent, eh?" "What does that mean?" You scratch the side of your head, not understanding the apparent joke he's making. "Fancy, good with words. In essence, t'exact opposite of yer Aunt Sonia, $callenChild." He replies with a laugh. "Aunt Sonia's home soon?" You say, ignoring the joke for the more important information. "Hmm... It musta taken a day or two for this to get 'ere, dependin' on how she sent it. It'll have come up on a Skylift or a bird, most likely. Ain't no Channels connectin' us to t'surface, y'see. Could be home today, even!" He smiles fondly. [[You grin widely. Aunt Sonia could be home //today//?! That's just the best news.|Chap2Scene14CalA]] [[You smile at that news. It's unexpected, but great!|Chap2Scene14CalB]] [[You try your best to hide the sour look on your face. Does she have to come back //already//? Ugh.|Chap2Scene14CalC]]

As you're both about to leave, neither of you donning anything particularly warm due to the Summer heat outside, you get Uncle Callen's attention. "Did you... say something to me, when I was having a wash?" You ask quietly, uncertainty creeping into your tone. You feel doubtful, though you're not sure where that feeling is exactly coming from. "No, $callenChild. I was downstairs when ye were washin'. Why, did ya hear somethin' amiss?" He looks at you with a mix of slight perplexion and concern. "Oh, um ... no. I didn't. It must've been my imagination." The excuse is a lame one, but it apparently works on him. That's ... odd. You //wanted// to tell him about the voice, but the words die in your throat before you can get them out. "Alright then, $callenChild." His eyes, previously narrowed, open wide again as he leans down a moment, patting your shoulder before standing and turning to the door. "Tell me if ye hear anythin' else though, yeah?" You nod in response and he makes to open the door, but you get his attention once more. "Could I explore the forest on the way to the butcher's? You could pick me up on the way back." You ask hopefully: Uncle Callen's reasonable, but he's prone to being protective of you in situations like this--where you'd be alone. The forest is safe though, so you're hopeful that he might allow you since you've been there often enough together now. He turns to you, leaning on the doorframe with his hairy arms crossed. He eyes you, scrutinizing you with an expression you don't often see him don: skepticism. "Any particular reason, $callenChild?" He asks. "Nobody's asked ye to meet 'em there, have they? Is it someone we k-" "It's not to meet anyone," you interrupt quickly, "I just, uh ... wanted to explore, is all!" For a moment you wanted to tell him about that strange voice you heard, but for whatever reason the urge just ... passes, like it was never there, forcing you to come up with an half-baked excuse instead. <<if $honesty >50>>Perhaps if you were better at lying you'd sound more convincing.<<else>>You manage to make it sound pretty convincing, being a decent liar.<</if>> How ... odd, all of it. He grumbles for a moment, running it over in his head. "Tell you what, $callenChild. I'll take ye there an' run to the butcher's on me own. Ye can stay there til' I'm ready to come an' get you. If, for //any// reason, you don't want t'stay there, find a member of the city watch, alright? There's a few of 'em on the park, that I know. Tell 'em the name of our street an' they'll take you here, alright? Don't try walkin' back on yer own." You nod at his instructions, a knot in your stomach forming at the thought of this fresh independence--both apprehensive and excited to be away from adults for a while, exploring the forest in search of //whatever// it is that strange voice told you to find. [[To the forest, then.|Chap2Scene16Cal]]

As you're both about to leave, neither of you donning anything particularly warm due to the Summer heat outside, you get Uncle Callen's attention. "Could I explore the forest on the way to the butcher's? You could pick me up on the way back." You ask hopefully: Uncle Callen's reasonable, but he's prone to being protective of you in situations like this - where you'd be alone. The forest is safe though, so you're hopeful that he might allow you since you've been there often enough together now. He turns to you, leaning on the doorframe with his hairy arms crossed. He eyes you, scrutinizing you with an expression you don't often see him don: skepticism. "Any particular reason, $callenChild?" He asks. "Nobody's asked ye to meet 'em there, have they? Is it someone we k--" "It's not to meet anyone," you interrupt quickly, "I just, uh ... wanted to explore, is all!" For a moment you wanted to tell him about that strange voice you heard, but for whatever reason the urge just ... passes, like it was never there, forcing you to come up with an half-baked excuse instead. <<if $honesty > 50>>Perhaps if you were better at lying you'd sound more convincing.<<else>>You manage to make it sound pretty convincing, being a decent liar.<</if>> How... odd. He grumbles for a moment, running it over in his head. "Tell you what, $callenChild. I'll take ye there an' run to the butcher's on me own. Ye can stay there til' I'm ready to come an' get you. If, for //any// reason, you don't want t'stay there, find a member of the city watch, alright? There's a few of 'em on the park, that I know. Tell 'em the name of our street an' they'll take you here, alright? Don't try walkin' back on yer own." You nod at his instructions, a knot in your stomach forming at the thought of this fresh independence - both apprehensive and excited to be away from adults for a while, exploring the forest in search of //whatever// it is that strange voice told you to find. [[To the forest, then.|Chap2Scene16Cal]]

Once you're clean and changed you step downstairs lightly, catching the telltale pinging sound of your home's Channel port--it seems a message has arrived. Aunt Sonia's already there by the time you're downstairs, fishing the piece of parchment of of its slot in the small contraption built into the wall, in the corner of the living area. Nearby, Uncle Callen's poleaxe rests on a rack far out of your reach, though it would be comfortably within his reach if he were here, the dangerous-looking edges of the weapon glinting even in the shadowed corner it lives in. Like most buildings in Sola, your home has a Channel line attached to it, meaning you can send and receive messages across the landmass. Aunt Sonia scrutinizes the message with an amused twinkle in her green eyes, reading the words, magically printed into the paper by the contraption--words you can't quite make out. She reads for a long, long time apparently, quickly glancing at you once she realises you're waiting to know what it says. She turns the letter to you for a moment, a veritable //wall// of writing filling your eyes as you scan the text for a sign at who it might've come from. "He likes to tell me everything that's happened. Godsdamned annoying old man, isn't he?" Aunt Sonia speaks over the top of the letter, the bored look in her eyes the only part of her visible. You realise who it's from at her words, "It's from Uncle Callen?" She nods. "Yep, and by the looks of it he should be coming home //soon//, if I read it correctly in-between his wondrous tales of the wild boar he tamed." She laments. "Could even be home today, what with the delay he'd have in sending a message up here by bird or Skylift." [[You grin widely. Uncle Callen could be home today?! That's just the best news.|Chap2Scene14SonA]] [[You smile at that news. It's unexpected, but great!|Chap2Scene14SonB]] [[You try your best to hide the sour look on your face. Does he have to come back already? Ugh.|Chap2Scene14SonC]]

As you're both about to leave, neither of you donning anything particularly warm due to the Summer heat outside, you get Aunt Sonia's attention. "Did you... say something to me, when I was having a wash?" You ask quietly, uncertainty creeping into your tone. You feel doubtful, though you're not sure where that feeling is exactly coming from. Her forehead creases in confusion. "I was already down here when you started washing. Did you hear something strange, $firstname?" "Oh, um... no. I didn't. It must've been my imagination." The excuse is evidently not enough to deter her judging by the further creasing of her features, but she elects to drop the issue if you're willing to. "Alright, kid, if you say so. Just tell me if you're feeling strange, alright? I'd like to know if we need to exorcise any ghosts." She winks, flicking your ear lightly as she stands and walks past to the door, making to open it, turning the handle and opening it slightly as the bright outdoor light spills in. Before she does, you pose your second question: "Could I explore the forest on the way to the butcher's? You could pick me up on the way back." You ask hopefully: Aunt Sonia's quite lenient with letting you do as you wish, though you know she's always close-by, watching like a hawk. The forest is safe though, so you hope she might let you explore it alone since you've been there often enough together now. Aunt Sonia turns, placing a hand on the slightly-open door to shut it once more with a gentle 'click'. She looks down at you with an unplaceable look, before speaking. "What for, exactly?" Uh oh. Her tone brooks absolutely no indication that she intends to let you go, but you have to soldier on--you might change her tune yet. "I just want to ... explore?" You venture, the excuse falling pretty flat <<if $honesty < 50>>though you're able to add some air of convincingness to it owing to your decent lying ability.<<else>>owing to your lacklustre lying ability.<</if>> You'd wanted to tell her the //real// reason for wanting to go, but the urge to do so seems to have just died in your throat, as if you'd never intended to speak it at all. How ... odd. She breathes in sharply, seeming to ruminate on the issue. Then, miraculously, she nods! "Alright, kid. //But//!" She holds a pointed finger up just before you start to smile victoriously. "You don't talk to anybody you don't know, except if it's a city watch member, and if someone tries to make you do something you don't want to, what do you do?" "Punch and run, Aunt Sonia." You reply obediently, the familiar words rolling off your tongue; words she's drilled into your mind. "Good." She doesn't smile, but looks proud enough all the same. "I'll let you explore for a while, I can run a few more errands in town before I come back here, I'll come for you once I'm ready. Or," she pauses, "if for any reason you want to come back, just find a city watch member and tell them the name of our street, you can come back here from there, alright? Don't walk back alone." You nod, feeling a little bogged down by instructions at this point, a knot in your stomach forming at the thought of this fresh independence - both apprehensive and excited to be away from adults for a while, exploring the forest in search of //whatever// it is that strange voice told you to find. [[To the forest, then.|Chap2Scene16Son]]

Aunt Sonia makes to open the door, turning the handle and opening it slightly as the bright outdoor light spills in. Before she does, you pose your question: "Could I explore the forest on the way to the butcher's? You could pick me up on the way back." You ask hopefully: Aunt Sonia's quite lenient with letting you do as you wish, though you know she's always close-by, watching like a hawk. The forest is safe though, so you hope she might let you explore it alone since you've been there often enough together now. Aunt Sonia turns, placing a hand on the slightly-open door to shut it once more with a gentle 'click'. She looks down at you with an unplaceable look, before speaking. "What for, exactly?" Uh oh. Her tone brooks absolutely no indication that she intends to let you go, but you have to soldier on--you might change her tune yet. "I just want to... explore?" You venture, the excuse falling pretty flat <<if $honesty >= 50>>though you're able to add some air of convincingness to it owing to your decent lying ability.<<else>>owing to your lacklustre lying ability.<</if>> You'd wanted to tell her the //real// reason for wanting to go, but the urge to do so seems to have just died in your throat, as if you'd never intended to speak it at all. How ... odd. She breathes in sharply, seeming to ruminate on the issue. Then, miraculously, she nods! "Alright, kid. //But//!" She holds a pointed finger up just before you start to smile victoriously. "You don't talk to anybody you don't know, except if it's a city watch member, and if someone tries to make you do something you don't want to, what do you do?" "Punch and run, Aunt Sonia." You reply obediently, the familiar words rolling off your tongue; words she's drilled into your mind. "Good." She doesn't smile, but looks proud enough all the same. "I'll let you explore for a while, I can run a few more errands in town before I come back here, I'll come for you once I'm ready. Or," she pauses, "if for any reason you want to come back, just find a city watch member and tell them the name of our street, you can come back here from there, alright? Don't walk back alone." You nod, feeling a little bogged down by instructions at this point, a knot in your stomach forming at the thought of this fresh independence - both apprehensive and excited to be away from adults for a while, exploring the forest in search of //whatever// it is that strange voice told you to find. [[To the forest, then.|Chap2Scene16Son]]

You soak up the warm rays of sunlight bearing down from above, the sun at its absolute peak. On days like these, Sola truly lives up to its namesake: the God of the sun and daytime, head of the Pantheon of Light, one of three primary groups that the twelve Gods are often split into in modern times, though ancient records show they had no such inclination of working together in any way. Rather, they warred continuously, something their modern-day followers sometimes still subscribe to on occasion. You fall into step with Aunt Sonia as you make a right turn down the street, passing the workers from before, some of whom recognize your pair and give a curt nod to you. The walk to the park seems to take less time than before, perhaps aided by your eagerness to get there and explore. //<div id="invader-text">Closer.</div>// It's an eagerness that seems strangely at odds with your deeper impulses. This feels //wrong//, in an unplaceable, sickly way. Like it's something you aren't meant to be pursuing, a stone that should remain unturned yet, all the same, your hand draws closer to it. //<div id="invader-text">Find...</div>// [[Despite all that, you're simply excited to explore the woods. You've spent too long just training in them, it's time to actually have some fun there.|Chap2Scene17Son][$chap2Forest to "excited"]] [[That steady trickle of inky black doubt persists in your mind, blanketed by the strange urge to explore anyway, despite your reluctance to go into the forest.|Chap2Scene17Son][$chap2Forest to "nervous"]]

You soak up the warm rays of sunlight bearing down from above, the sun at its absolute peak. On days like these, Sola truly lives up to its namesake: the God of the sun and daytime, head of the Pantheon of Light, one of three primary groups that the twelve Gods are often split into in modern times, though ancient records show they had no such inclination of working together in any way. Rather, they warred continuously, something their modern-day followers sometimes still subscribe to on occasion. You fall into step with Uncle Callen as you make a right turn down the street, passing the workers from before who recognize your pair and wave before turning back to their work. The walk to the park seems to take less time than before, perhaps aided by your eagerness to get there and explore. //<div id="invader-text">Closer.</div>// It's an eagerness that seems strangely at odds with your deeper impulses. This feels //wrong//, in an unplaceable, sickly way. Like it's something you aren't meant to be pursuing, a stone that should remain unturned yet, all the same, your hand draws closer to it. //<div id="invader-text">Find...</div>// [[Despite all that, you're simply excited to explore the woods. You've spent too long just training in them, it's time to actually have some fun there.|Chap2Scene17Cal][$chap2Forest to "excited"]] [[That steady trickle of inky black doubt persists in your mind, blanketed by the strange urge to explore anyway, despite your reluctance to go into the forest.|Chap2Scene17Cal][$chap2Forest to "nervous"]]

Uncle Callen walks you through the entire park, bringing you right to the beginning of the path that leads into the thick forest. Around you, happy families enjoy the scenery; nobles, mercantile families from the city, tourists from the surface all going about their day, soaking in the sun. Not you, though. You've a mission, and it lies within these deep green depths. Uncle Callen turns you to him for a moment. "Be safe, be good, be //careful//, $callenChild. Enjoy yerself in there, alright?" "I will, Uncle Callen. For all of it." You add to the end, not sure which of those requests you're exactly responding to. His eyes shut a moment, clasping you on both shoulders tightly. "See ya soon, $callenChild." With that, he stands and begins to walk away, leaving you at the forest's edge. <<if $callenClose >= 55>>You wave goodbye to him, and he waves right back, slightly turned to keep looking at you as he departs.<<else>> He turns slightly and waves goodbye to you, keeping himself turned to look at you as he departs.<</if>> Then, he is gone. You're on your own, truly. Nobody's supervising you. Nobody even knows what you're //doing// here. <<if $chap2Forest == "excited">>Your nerves thrum in anticipation of the adventure ahead as you turn to face the beginning of the forest, sparse trees merging into a thick wall of greenery in the close distance.<<else>>You swallow thickly, nerves fraught at the ordeal ahead as you turn to face the beginning of the forest, sparse trees merging into a thick wall of greenery in the close distance. You suppress a shiver, icy hands crawling up your spine despite the warmth of the day.<</if>> [[Enter the forest.|Chap2Scene18]]

The park's pleasant cacophany fades away gradually as you delve further into the Solan forest, natural silence replacing the bustle of civilization. You trudge along, stepping on the odd fallen leaf here or there, or listening to the satisfying ''snap'' of a twig as you step over it. You spy the odd squirrel or fox scrambling its way through the undergrowth or along a tall gnarled tree, though they all seem to want to keep their distance. They don't seem to want you here,<<if $chap2Forest == "nervous">> which is fair enough. You don't want to be here that much, either.<<else>> but they'll just have to deal with it. You're exploring!<</if>> From what you've read of Sola's storied history, which almost dates back to the Age of Fear, those who inhabited the place were always mindful of keeping the forests clean and plentiful. In recent times, however, that philosophy has diminished--especially recently, though there is still a reasonable chunk of the landmass that is pure, undisturbed forest. It's likely to be thousands of years old at this point. And here you are, only eight and <<if $chap2Forest == "nervous">>gingerly stepping through it,<<else>>eagerly skipping through it,<</if>> in search of something you're not quite certain as to the nature of. When the voice from earlier does not return to guide you, you elect to just look around a little, taking in the sights of the forest. You doubt you'll be able to find any of your old training gear that you'd left here--the archery stuff had been collected after an earlier session this week, but there's no shortage of interesting sights in such an untouched forest: nature is king, here. Precious little light manages to filter through the thick canopy above, only coming through in the odd clearing, here and there. It serves to make the place seem almost dreamlike, detached from the rest of the world with its loud hustle and bustle to create a place of silence, free of sound or light. You don't even know how long you've spent in here, but it feels like it's been ages. Suddenly, as before, a tickling chill runs down your neck as that dreaded voice, unplaceable in its grim tone and unusual tempo, alights in the recesses of your anxious mind once more. //<div id="invader-text">Close ... Find ... Water.</div>// Water? //<div id="invader-text">Find. Water.</div>// All of a sudden, you think you might be able to hear the soft babbling of a nearby stream. You go to investigate, inexplicably finding yourself in the middle of a sizable clearing, quiet as the rest of the forest save for the sound of the tinkling body of water in front of you. [[Next|MeetSam]]

Aunt Sonia takes you through the park to the edge of the forest, bringing you right to the edge of the greenery. Around you, happy families enjoy the scenery; nobles, mercantile families from the city, tourists from the surface all going about their day, soaking in the sun. Not you, though. You've a mission, and it lies within these deep green depths. Aunt Sonia puts her hands around your face for a moment, making sure you're looking at her rather than anything else. "You listen to me, now. Stay safe in there, first sign of trouble, you know what to do?" "Yes, Aunt Sonia." You drawl, fully remembering each and every lesson on safety she's imparted upon you for the past few years. You're ready for this: independence. She smiles more with her eyes than anything, slight wrinkles forming around the green orbs. "Have fun, though. I loved exploring the forest when I was little, too. Although it was never as green as this. Lucky little bugger." She chuckles, ruffling your hair and turning away to depart the park. <<if $soniaClose >= 55>> You wave goodbye to her, though she doesn't see it. You're not hurt though, she's already said her goodbye for now - that's just how she is.<<else>>You turn around yourself, knowing she won't look back - it's just how she is.<</if>> Then, she is gone. You're on your own, truly. Nobody's supervising you. Nobody even knows what you're //doing// here. <<if $chap2Forest == "excited">>Your nerves thrum in anticipation of the adventure ahead as you turn to face the beginning of the forest, sparse trees merging into a thick wall of greenery in the close distance.<<else>>You swallow thickly, nerves fraught at the ordeal ahead as you turn to face the beginning of the forest, sparse trees merging into a thick wall of greenery in the close distance. You suppress a shiver, icy hands crawling up your spine despite the warmth of the day.<</if>> [[Enter the forest.|Chap2Scene18]]

Your mouth quirks down in a frown as you lean back from Sam, shooting him a warning look. "You're being loud." You say firmly, as if scolding him. Sam looks somewhat chastised, stopping his tirade in its tracks. "Oh, sorry..." He apologizes, almost whispering now. It's an over-adjustment on his end, but at least he's not shouting anymore. "I was just shocked, y'know? That's really somethin'. I've never met //anyone// that lived in a Risen City their whole life! I've only visited 'em a few times with my pa before moving here. So, you've never seen High Abria or Groyton or Calis or //anything//?" He asks incredulously, starting and stopping new sentences in quick succession while still trying to wrap his curly golden head around the whole concept of someone living here their whole life. "I've seen pictures and maps. I know what they //look// like, I've just never been down, well ... there." You point downwards, but your reasoning does little to quench Sam's awe. Despite that, he seems eager to move on, hopping from topic to topic like a frog between lily-pads in a pond. "What were we talkin' about before?" He ponders, apparently having forgotten. He puts a finger and thumb on his chin, scrunching his face up in concentration. "Seeing the Veil from here?" You offer, and he perks up once you've said it. "Yeah, that's right! Sorry, I forget stuff sometimes." He giggles. "So, d'you go anywhere to look at it? There was this one hill where I lived where it was //super// clear, but I guess I can't go there anymore, huh?" He smirks jovially, but there's a barely-perceptible forlornness to his tone that you pick up on. [[🌞+ Now it's time to brag. "I go to the very top of a big tower with an archmage I know!" You grin smugly. (Cautious -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20A][$cautious to $cautious - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ You suppose he can know about Archer and their big tower. "Um, I know an archmage. They take me to the top of their tower sometimes." (Cold -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20B][$cold to $cold - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ Instead of answering right away, you'll ask Sam about his home. He sounds sad about leaving. (Cold -, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20C][$cold to $cold - 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[You give a vague, noncomittal answer. He might spoil the fun, since you're technically not meant to go up there. (Optimistic -, Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20D][$optimistic to $optimistic - 5, $cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no"]] [[🌞- You give a vague, noncomittal answer. You definitely don't want him asking to visit. (Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20E][$cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

You shrink into yourself at Sam's loud volume, hands flinching up to cover your ears. "Oh, sorry!" Sam starts before realizing he's being just as loud, before switching to a whisper: "//Sorry ...// I was just shocked, y'know? That's really somethin'. I've never met //anyone// that lived in a Risen City their whole life! I've only visited 'em a few times with my pa before moving here. So, you've never seen High Abria or Groyton or Calis or //anything//?" He asks incredulously, starting and stopping new sentences in quick succession while still trying to wrap his curly golden head around the whole concept of someone living here their whole life. "I've seen pictures and maps. I know what they //look// like, I've just never been down, well ... there." You point downwards, but your reasoning does little to quench Sam's awe. Despite that, he seems eager to move on, hopping from topic to topic like a frog between lily-pads in a pond. "What were we talkin' about before?" He ponders, apparently having forgotten. He puts a finger and thumb on his chin, scrunching his face up in concentration. "Seeing the Veil from here?" You offer, and he perks up once you've said it. "Yeah, that's right! Sorry, I forget stuff sometimes." He giggles. "So, d'you go anywhere to look at it? There was this one hill where I lived where it was //super// clear, but I guess I can't go there anymore, huh?" He smirks jovially, but there's a barely-perceptible forlornness to his tone that you pick up on. [[🌞+ Now it's time to brag. "I go to the very top of the Mage's Guild tower with an archmage I know!" You grin smugly. (Cautious -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20A][$cautious to $cautious - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ You suppose he can know about Archer and the Mage's tower. "Um, I know an archmage. They take me to the top of the Mage's tower sometimes." (Cold -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20B][$cold to $cold - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ Instead of answering right away, you'll ask Sam about his home. He sounds sad about leaving. (Cold -, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20C][$cold to $cold - 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[You give a vague, noncomittal answer. He might spoil the fun, since you're technically not meant to go up there. (Optimistic -, Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20D][$optimistic to $optimistic - 5, $cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no"]] [[🌞- You give a vague, noncomittal answer. You definitely don't want him asking to visit. (Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20E][$cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

You snicker. "Now that you mention it, I actually //have// been down there. Plenty of times, in fact!" You add that last part half-chuckling and grin cheekily at Sam, who snorts and rolls his eyes good-naturedly. You wink to seal the fact that you're one-hundred percent not serious. "//Veeery// funny, $firstname. Now that you've said that, I remember we're actually best buddies from a long time ago, I must've forgotten you!" The two of you giggle together at Sam's ability to match you in humour. "We mustn't have been best buddies if you forgot me, Sam!" You point out, picking apart his fantasy just like that. "Ah, well. We can be friends here, at least!" He reasons, and you nod fervently. Sam leans back with a big puff of air, the exhale doing nothing to deflate his earlier excitement. "Y'know, $firstname, that's really somethin'! I've never met //anyone// that lived in a Risen City their whole life! I've only visited 'em a few times with my pa before moving here." He pauses, considering something new. "So, you've never seen High Abria or Groyton or Calis or //anything//?" He asks incredulously, starting and stopping new sentences in quick succession while still trying to wrap his curly golden head around the whole concept of someone living here their whole life. "I've seen pictures and maps. I know what they //look// like, I've just never been down, well ... there." You point downwards, but your reasoning does little to quench Sam's awe. Despite that, he seems eager to move on, hopping from topic to topic like a frog between lily-pads in a pond. "What were we talkin' about before?" He ponders, apparently having forgotten. He puts a finger and thumb on his chin, scrunching his face up in concentration. "Seeing the Veil from here?" You offer, and he perks up once you've said it. "Yeah, that's right! Sorry, I forget stuff sometimes." He giggles. "So, d'you go anywhere to look at it? There was this one hill where I lived where it was //super// clear, but I guess I can't go there anymore, huh?" He smirks jovially, but there's a barely-perceptible forlornness to his tone that you pick up on. [[🌞+ Now it's time to brag. "I go to the very top of the Mage's Guild tower with an archmage I know!" You grin smugly. (Cautious -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20A][$cautious to $cautious - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ You suppose he can know about Archer and the Mage's tower. "Um, I know an archmage. They take me to the top of the Mage's tower sometimes." (Cold -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20B][$cold to $cold - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ Instead of answering right away, you'll ask Sam about his home. He sounds sad about leaving. (Cold -, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20C][$cold to $cold - 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[You give a vague, noncomittal answer. He might spoil the fun, since you're technically not meant to go up there. (Optimistic -, Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20D][$optimistic to $optimistic - 5, $cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no"]] [[🌞- You give a vague, noncomittal answer. You definitely don't want him asking to visit. (Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20E][$cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

"That //is// what I said." You say with a soft chuckle. //Maybe his hearing isn't that great//, you think. Sam leans back with a big puff of air, the exhale doing nothing to deflate his excitement. "Wow, $firstname! That's really somethin'. I've never met //anyone// that lived in a Risen City their whole life! I've only visited 'em a few times with my pa before moving here. So, you've never seen High Abria or Groyton or Calis or //anything//?" He asks incredulously, starting and stopping new sentences in quick succession while still trying to wrap his curly golden head around the whole concept of someone living here their whole life. "I've seen pictures and maps. I know what they //look// like, I've just never been down, well ... there." You point downwards, but your reasoning does little to quench Sam's awe. Despite that, he seems eager to move on, hopping from topic to topic like a frog between lily-pads in a pond. "What were we talkin' about before?" He ponders, apparently having forgotten. He puts a finger and thumb on his chin, scrunching his face up in concentration. "Seeing the Veil from here?" You offer, and he perks up once you've said it. "Yeah, that's right! Sorry, I forget stuff sometimes." He giggles. "So, d'you go anywhere to look at it? There was this one hill where I lived where it was //super// clear, but I guess I can't go there anymore, huh?" He smirks jovially, but there's a barely-perceptible forlornness to his tone that you pick up on. [[🌞+ Now it's time to brag. "I go to the very top of the Mage's Guild tower with an archmage I know!" You grin smugly. (Cautious -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20A][$cautious to $cautious - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ You suppose he can know about Archer and the Mage's tower. "Um, I know an archmage. They take me to the top of the Mage's tower sometimes." (Cold -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20B][$cold to $cold - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ Instead of answering right away, you'll ask Sam about his home. He sounds sad about leaving. (Cold -, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20C][$cold to $cold - 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[You give a vague, noncomittal answer. He might spoil the fun, since you're technically not meant to go up there. (Optimistic -, Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20D][$optimistic to $optimistic - 5, $cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no"]] [[🌞- You give a vague, noncomittal answer. You definitely don't want him asking to visit. (Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20E][$cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

All you offer in response is a sturdy nod, confirming what you'd told Sam only a few seconds ago. Oddly enough, the boy still doesn't seem satisfied by this confirmation, opting to just stare at you with his mouth agape like a fish. You wonder if you should remind him to breathe before he seems to remember all on his own, shutting his mouth and leaning back a little, though his eyes still fixate on you like some kind of rare gemstone. <<if $samRomance == 1>>You almost shrink under his awe-filled gaze, why does it feel so //strange//?<<else>><</if>> Sam seems to remember himself, finally speaking up once more. "Sorry, s'just... wow. I've never met //anyone// that lived in a Risen City their whole life! I've only visited 'em a few times with my pa before moving here. So you've never seen High Abria or Groyton or Calis or //anything//?" He asks incredulously, starting and stopping new sentences in quick succession while still trying to wrap his curly golden head around the whole concept of someone living here their whole life. "I've seen pictures and maps. I know what they //look// like, I've just never been down, well ... there." You point downwards, but your reasoning does little to quench Sam's awe. Despite that, he seems eager to move on, hopping from topic to topic like a frog between lily-pads in a pond. "What were we talkin' about before?" He ponders, apparently having forgotten. He puts a finger and thumb on his chin, scrunching his face up in concentration. "Seeing the Veil from here?" You offer, and he perks up once you've said it. "Yeah, that's right! Sorry, I forget stuff sometimes." He giggles. "So, d'you go anywhere to look at it? There was this one hill where I lived where it was //super// clear, but I guess I can't go there anymore, huh?" He smirks jovially, but there's a barely-perceptible forlornness to his tone that you pick up on. [[🌞+ Now it's time to brag. "I go to the very top of the Mage's Guild tower with an archmage I know!" You grin smugly. (Cautious -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20A][$cautious to $cautious - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ You suppose he can know about Archer and the Mage's tower. "Um, I know an archmage. They take me to the top of the Mage's tower sometimes." (Cold -, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene20B][$cold to $cold - 3, $honesty to $honesty + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[🌞+ Instead of answering right away, you'll ask Sam about his home. He sounds sad about leaving. (Cold -, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20C][$cold to $cold - 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samTower to "yes"]] [[You give a vague, noncomittal answer. He might spoil the fun, since you're technically not meant to go up there. (Optimistic -, Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20D][$optimistic to $optimistic - 5, $cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no"]] [[🌞- You give a vague, noncomittal answer. You definitely don't want him asking to visit. (Cold +, Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene20E][$cold to $cold + 3, $stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $samTower to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

"Sooo," the boy continues, swaying slightly from side to side as he speaks to you, "what were you doin' out here?" "Oh, um. I thought I saw something, in the water. I... can't remember what it was." Huh. You really can't, either. The memory of whatever was in the water seems murky, even though you saw it only a minute or two ago. "That sucks." The boy says simply. You just nod slightly in response, shrugging. Maybe you'll find it again, later. His eyes light up for a moment, as if he's just remembered something. "Oh! By the way, I'm sorry for sneakin' up on you." He snickers, "I'm real quiet, and I should've called out or somethin'." "It's okay," You respond, "sorry for screaming so loud." You add, still feeling somewhat sheepish about it. "No worries! What's that thing adults say about babies? You've got... good lungs, or somethin'?" The young lad grins, apparently not caring that much about the proper saying. That's an... odd compliment to say the least, but he seems to genuinely mean it. "Hey, follow me! There's a nice sunny clearing nearby, we can sit down." He turns and breaks into a brisk jog, waving behind himself at you with a yellow-sleeved arm to follow. You fall into step with the boy, who smiles warmly at your following of him. It doesn't take long to reach the clearing; a log lays on the forest floor, illuminated by the sun from above. The boy bounds over and plants himself on it, patting the log at his side for you to take a seat, so you do. "Forgot to mention! I," He points at himself, "am Samuel Alban, s'nice to meet you!" He looks over to you, sat at his side on the impromptu bench, and reaches a hand across, presumably for you to shake. [[🌞+ Shake his hand eagerly. He's so friendly! (Cold -)|ScreamSam3][$samHandshake to "yesB", $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Shake his hand gingerly. You're not too sure about this boy, but he seems nice enough. (Cold -, Cautious +)|ScreamSam3][$samHandshake to "yesN", $cautious to $cautious + 3, $cold to $cold - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞+ Stare warily at his hand before ultimately shaking it, dubiously. (Cold +, Cautious +)|ScreamSam3][$samHandshake to "yesS", $cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[🌞= You would shake his hand, but you're nervous. (Cold +, Cautious +)|ScreamSam3][$samHandshake to "noN", $cold to $cold + 5, $cautious to $cautious + 3]] [[🌞- Stare blankly at the boy. You're not going to shake his hand. (Cold +)|ScreamSam3][$samHandshake to "noB", $cold to $cold + 5, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

<<if $samHandshake == "yesB">>You clasp his hand in yours and he enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. His hand is very warm, and he keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesN">>You pause a moment, looking nervously at his outstretched hand. He seems to notice your reluctance. "Am I still scary? I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. That ultimately convinces you and you gingerly reach out before clasping his hand in yours. The boy enthusiastically moves his arm up and down, the motion causing yours to follow. "See? I don't bite!" He jokes at your slight reluctance to shake his hand earlier. He keeps a tight grip for the duration of the handshake, but is the first to disengage after a few seconds.<<elseif $samHandshake == "yesS">>You cast a sly look at the boy's hand, measuring the odds of him trying to pull a trick on you. Your icy wall is met by the boy's warm, sunny onslaught of a grin and, eventually, you relent. You shake the boy's hand slowly, like he's covered in poison. His grin widens, if that's possible, and he exclaims, "I don't bite, y'know!" He shakes your hand up and down enthusiastically before letting go, though his grin doesn't diminish one bit.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noB">>You just stare blankly at the boy, and he waits a few seconds with his hand held out before dropping it limply, pretending it's far heavier than it actually is. "I don't bite, but you don't have to shake it if you don't wanna." He smiles kindly.<<elseif $samHandshake == "noN">>You look apprehensively at his outstretched hand. Why would you shake the hand of someone who snuck up on you and made you //scream//? The boy notices your reluctance. "I don't bite! Promise." He puts his free hand on his chest, tapping where his heart would be to seal his promise. When you still don't shake it, he gives up. "That's okay, you don't have to shake it." He says simply, smiling once that's done with.<</if>> The boy--Samuel, you remind yourself--speaks first. "Oh! Forgot to say, my proper name's Samuel, //buuut// nobody really ever calls me that, 'cept my pa. You can just call me Sam, instead! //But//," his blue eyes narrow, "don't ever call me Sammy!" He warns, scowling non-seriously. "Nah, I just don't like Sammy much, but I don't actually mind it. My pa says I've gotta tell people my proper full name //first//." He makes a sour expression, but evidently follows this rule, even with other children. "Anyway, what's //your// name, screamy?" Sam smiles expectantly at you. //Even his smile's bright//, you think. "I'm $firstname." You offer. His smile actually grows, if that's possible. "Nice name! You got a surname, $firstname? Or should I just call you $firstname, The Screamer?" Sam's own joke seems to jostle his own humour particularly effectively, and he giggles feverishly while hugging himself for a second so he doesn't end up doubling over. "You startled m-" You start, but Sam waves your argument away. "I'm kidding! You should tell me your last name, though. I might just start callin' you that all the time if not." He chuckles. "It's $lastname. I'm $firstname $lastname." Sam's eyes widen in realization--or recognition, perhaps. "$lastname? Like the <<if $mentor == "Callen">>big funny beardy man in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Uncle Callen and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Uncle Callen." You confirm. His head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //uncle//?<<if $haircolour == "light brown" or $haircolour == "medium brown" and $eyecolour == "grey">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like him."<</if>> You clarify for him, "He's not my blood uncle or anything, he just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So he's like your pa, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Aunt Sonia too, only she's not here right now." "Oh, is she like your ma? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but she does take care of me just like Uncle Callen. He's just around the most."<<else>> scary-lookin' lady with the sword in the green house?" You giggle at Sam's description of Aunt Sonia and nod in the affirmative. "That's my Aunt Sonia." You confirm. Sam's head tilts in confusion. "You got the same surname as your //aunt//?<<if $haircolour == "ash blonde" and $eyecolour == "dark green" or $eyecolour == "light green">>" People often think you're related, owing to your appearances looking somewhat similar, but that's not the case.<<else>> You don't look much like her."<</if>> You clarify for him, "She's not my blood aunt or anything, she just adopted me 'cause my real parents couldn't take care of me." That's what both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia tell you--that your parents couldn't care for you properly and, being desperate and with nowhere else to turn to, entrusted the two with your care. Sam nods. "So she's like your ma, then?" "I guess so." You shrug, before continuing. "There's my Uncle Callen too, only he's not here right now." "Oh, is he like your pa? They married?" Sam asks, seeming to understand the situation now--sort of. You stifle a giggle. "They're not married or in love, but he does take care of me just like Aunt Sonia. She's just around the most."<</if>> "Huh." Sam says simply. "Well, I think we might be neighbours, then! My pa's moving us in to the house next to it. I met that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen man<<else>>Sonia lady<</if>> once the carriage dropped us off. Spent a few minutes talkin' until my pa told me I could go explore 'round here for a bit. It was //well// boring back there! But pa let me walk here, an' I'd say it's a good job I did!" He says, gesturing vaguely towards you as a sign of his good fortunes. "He let you walk //here// from //there//?" That's... tough to believe. "Oh, sure!" Sam chirps as if it's the most normal thing in the entire world. "He lets me go lots of places on my own. Our old home was pretty safe, an' I'm fast anyway. No weird people are catchin' me!" He grins sunnily, before turning more serious. "Uh, is it safe here, too?" He asks, seeking some small comfort in a new place in the one person he might be able to trust to give an honest answer: another child. You shrug. "I haven't heard of anything bad happening in Sola." [[Next|SamScene4]]

You puff your chest out proudly, ready to proclaim your secret spot. "It's //all the way// at the top of this big tower, near the Mage's Guild! It's one of the tallest buildings in Sola! And," you pause for dramatic effect, grinning smugly in-between your sentences, "there's a mage I know that takes me up there sometimes!" You grin, watching Sam visibly become more excited with each new piece of information you tell him. "You know a //mage//?! That's really somethin', $firstname! I never met a proper mage my whole life, but I guess this place's full of special people, right?" You nod. Sola's full of a lot of very important people, even the King of Telfrin himself visits sometimes. "D'you think I could, um ... come with you, next time you go there? I //really// want to see what it looks like from somewhere so high." He asks earnestly, pleading eyes peering hopefully at you. <<if $samRomance == 1>>//He wants to go somewhere with you//?<<else>><</if>> [[🌞+ "I'll see. I don't want to get anyone in trouble since I'm not really meant to be going up there." You would like him to come, though. Obviously.|Chap2Scene21A][$samWantTower to "yes", $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3]] [[🌞- "I'll see. I don't want to get anyone in trouble since I'm not really meant to be going up there." You'd prefer if he didn't come, though. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene21A][$samWantTower to "noLie", $honesty to $honesty - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]] [["I don't think so. I can only go up there because the archmage knows me. They don't know you." You answer. It's the truth. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene21B][$samWantTower to "noTruth", $cautious to $cautious + 2]] [[🌞- "I don't think so. I can only go up there because the archmage knows me. They don't know you." Besides that, you just don't really want him there. |Chap2Scene21B][$samWantTower to "noTruth", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

It might not be something you should //necessarily// be telling just anybody, but you don't think Sam will get you or Archer into trouble over this. "I actually know an archmage at the Guild, they take me to the top of their tower sometimes. There's a really clear view from the top." You explain, and as soon as you mention the towerr, Sam's eyes widen excitedly. "You know a //mage//?! That's really somethin', $firstname! I never met a proper mage my whole life, but I guess this place's full of special people, right?" You nod. Sola's full of a lot of very important people, even the King of Telfrin himself visits sometimes. "D'you think I could, um ... come with you, next time you go there? I //really// want to see what it looks like from somewhere so high." He asks earnestly, pleading eyes peering hopefully at you. <<if $samRomance == 1>>//He wants to go somewhere with you//?<<else>><</if>> [[🌞+ "I'll see. I don't want to get anyone in trouble since I'm not really meant to be going up there." You would like him to come, though. Obviously.|Chap2Scene21A][$samWantTower to "yes", $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3]] [[🌞- "I'll see. I don't want to get anyone in trouble since I'm not really meant to be going up there." You'd prefer if he didn't come, though. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene21A][$samWantTower to "noLie", $honesty to $honesty - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]] [["I don't think so. I can only go up there because the archmage knows me. They don't know you." You answer. It's the truth. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene21B][$samWantTower to "noTruth", $cautious to $cautious + 2]] [[🌞- "I don't think so. I can only go up there because the archmage knows me. They don't know you." Besides that, you just don't really want him there. |Chap2Scene21B][$samWantTower to "noTruth", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

"How about I ask you a question, now?" You challenge, smirking at Sam's suprised expression. He didn't expect you to turn the tables on him, since he's been dominating this conversation. "Uh ... alright. Ask away!" His surprise changes to curiosity at what you might have to ask. You lean forward a little, trying to mimic that friendly way Uncle Callen talks to people when he wants to know something. "What was your old home like?" You suppose you're a little curious, though the question might not be something Sam wants to think about right now, just after leaving. You don't know many people who've lived on the surface, and certainly not any children who've lived there either. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia's stories of the place make it seem pretty bleak, but it can't be the worst thing ever if someone like Sam can miss it, right? "Huh..." Sam taps his chin and looks studiously up in the air for a moment. If your question hurt him, he doesn't seem intent on showing it. "It was fun, I guess. I knew //everyone//." He looks back down at you now, a soft and melancholy smile planted on his face, so different to the excited ones he'd been wearing until now. He doesn't seem so eager to talk about his home. He shrugs, and leaves the topic at that. Sam perks up, "I'm gonna have to do a lot of work to get to know everyone here, huh? I got a head start today, at least!" He gestures to you, and it occurs that you must be one of the first people in Sola he's even interacted with. "But, hey!" Sam speaks up, a dubious little expression now etched on his face, "You still ain't told me about where you watch the Veil. You //gotta// tell me now, since I told you something. It's only fair!" His argument //is// a sound one, so you finally relent: "I actually know an archmage at the Guild, they take me to the top of their tower sometimes. There's a really clear view from the top." You explain, and as soon as you mention the tower, Sam's eyes widen excitedly. "You know a //mage//?! That's really somethin', $firstname! I never met a proper mage my whole life, but I guess this place's full of special people, right?" You nod. Sola's full of a lot of very important people in terms of reputation, wealth and power. "D'you think I could, um ... come with you, next time you go there? I //really// want to see what it looks like from somewhere so high." He asks earnestly, pleading eyes peering hopefully at you. <<if $samRomance == 1>>//He wants to go somewhere with you//?<<else>><</if>> [[🌞+ "I'll see. I don't want to get anyone in trouble since I'm not really meant to be going up there." You would like him to come, though. Obviously.|Chap2Scene21A][$samWantTower to "yes", $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3]] [[🌞- "I'll see. I don't want to get anyone in trouble since I'm not really meant to be going up there." You'd prefer if he didn't come, though. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene21A][$samWantTower to "noLie", $honesty to $honesty - 3, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]] [["I don't think so. I can only go up there because the archmage knows me. They don't know you." You answer. It's the truth. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene21B][$samWantTower to "noTruth", $cautious to $cautious + 2]] [[🌞- "I don't think so. I can only go up there because the archmage knows me. They don't know you." Besides that, you just don't really want him there. |Chap2Scene21B][$samWantTower to "noTruth", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

"Oh, it's just this ... place, I don't go there so often. I know a mage, so that's why I can go. But I don't think you could come." You say, airily. "Ohhh, it's a secret, huh?" Sam asks, giggling. "Alright, you can keep your secret. I'll find out one day!" He promises, resolute determination in his blue eyes. Sam continues, "So, you know a //mage//?! That's really somethin', $firstname! I never met a proper mage my whole life, but I guess this place's full of special people, right?" You nod. Sola's full of a lot of very important people, even the King of Telfrin himself visits sometimes. [[Next|Chap2Scene21C][$samWantTower to "noNeverTold"]]

"Oh, it's just this weird place, I don't go there so often. I know a mage, so that's why I can go. I don't think you could come." You say, airily. "Ohhh, it's a secret, huh?" Sam asks, giggling. "Alright, you can keep your secret. I'll find out one day!" He promises, resolute determination in his blue eyes. Your own $eyecolour eyes narrow with a similar fire; that //isn't// going to happen. Sam continues, "So you know a //mage//?! That's really somethin', $firstname! I never met a proper mage my whole life, but I guess this place's full of special people, right?" You nod. Sola's full of a lot of very important people, even the King of Telfrin himself visits sometimes. [[Next|Chap2Scene21C][$samWantTower to "noNeverTold"]]

"Yesyesyes!" Sam stomps up and down giddily, an impressive feat considering he's still sat down, though he looks as if he might fall off the log at any minute. "You're the //best//, $firstname! I didn't know there'd be such awesome kids in Sola!" He beams brighter than he ever has since you'd met him, if that's even possible. "Don't mention it." You smile, <<if $samWantTower == "yes">>already thinking of how you're going to convince Archer to let another kid tag along the next time they bring you up to the tower.<<if $samRomance == 1>> Deep down, you //really// hope they do. Laying next to Sam and watching the Veil's shifting colours together would be... special.<</if>><<elseif $samWantTower == "noLie">>secretly hoping Archer doesn't let him tag along the next time they bring you up to the tower.<<if $samRomance == 1>> A part of you regrets this lie, imagining laying next to him and watching the Veil's shifting colours together.<</if>><</if>> "You must be special yourself if you know mages and all that, right? You secretly a lord's kid or something?" It's difficult to ignore the skepticism creeping into his expression at the possibility you might be. You tilt your head at him. "//I'm// not special, not really. My Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen are Bladeweavers, so they know lots of people. //Especially// Uncle Callen." You add, thinking of the sheer amount of acquaintances across Sola he seems to have. It's rare to see someone who doesn't at least recognize the master Bladeweaver. "Oh, right! I think I heard <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>the lady talking about bein' a Bladeweaver. Does she have a greensteel sword, as well? Is she a knight?" His blue eyes sparkle. "She does! They're both masters, too." You answer.<<else>>the man talking about bein' a Bladeweaver. Does he have a greensteel sword, as well? Is he a knight?" His blue eyes sparkle. "It's a poleaxe, but yes. They're both masters, too." You answer.<</if>> "So wicked..." Sam says under his breath. It seems he holds Bladeweavers in high regard. [[You may as well tell him you're going to be one, one day. (Honesty +)|Chap2Scene22Tell][$samKnowsBW to "yes", $honesty to $honesty + 3]] [[You decide not to tell him that you're going to be one, one day. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene22DontTell][$samKnowsBW to "no", $honesty to $honesty - 3]]

Sam visibly deflates at your denial, slumping over and instead occupying himself by twiddling his thumbs together in his lap. He looks around aimlessly for a moment before nodding decisively. "That's alright. It makes sense, I suppose." He still sounds sad about your rejection, but it appears he doesn't want your rejection to get to him. <<if $samRomance == 1>>A small part of you feels regret at rejecting him, imagining what it would be like to lie down next to him at the top of the tower, watching the Veil's shifting colours together.<</if>> "Sorry." You offer, attempting to console him, but he doesn't seem to be having any of it. "S'all good! Anyway, you must be pretty special if you know mages and all that, right? You secretly lord's kid or something?" It's difficult to ignore the skepticism creeping into his expression at the possibility you might be. You tilt your head at him. "//I'm// not special, not really. My Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen are Bladeweavers, so they know lots of people. //Especially// Uncle Callen." You add, thinking of the sheer amount of acquaintances across Sola he seems to have. It's rare to see someone who doesn't at least recognize the master Bladeweaver. "Oh, right! I think I heard <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>the lady talking about bein' a Bladeweaver. Does she have a greensteel sword, as well?" His blue eyes sparkle. "She does!" You answer.<<else>>the man talking about bein' a Bladeweaver. Does he have a greensteel sword, as well?" His blue eyes sparkle. "It's a poleaxe, but yes." You answer.<</if>> "So wicked..." Sam says under his breath. It seems he holds Bladeweavers in high regard. [[You may as well tell him you're going to be one, one day. (Honesty +)|Chap2Scene22Tell][$samKnowsBW to "yes", $honesty to $honesty + 3]] [[You decide not to tell him that you're going to be one, one day. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene22DontTell][$samKnowsBW to "no", $honesty to $honesty - 3]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>A sly grin creeps onto your face as you prepare to tell Sam the truth. He notices this and quirks one slender eyebrow up. "What's the matter, $firstname?" A nervous smile starts to creep on his face, respectively. "Well, the thing is... //I'm// gonna be a Bladeweaver too, when I'm older!" You exclaim excitedly. You're so excited about one day becoming one, so why not share it, right?<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>You huff morosely as you prepare to tell Sam the truth. He notices this and quirks one slender eyebrow up. "What's the matter, $firstname?" A soft look of concern is shot your way. "Well, the thing is... //I'm// gonna be a Bladeweaver too, when I'm older." You explain glumly, slumping over.<<else>>You blink neutrally as you prepare to tell Sam the truth. He notices this and quirks one slender eyebrow up. "What's the matter, $firstname?" He waits as patiently as he can, looking at you expectantly. "Well, the thing is... //I'm// gonna be a Bladeweaver too, when I'm older." You explain, laying the words out like something you'd learned in a book.<</if>> Sam looks as if he'd just been hit by a bolt of lightning. His mouth hangs open and he blinks rapidly, clearly trying to process that bombshell. "You're gonna be a-a... wow... You really //are// special!" He stammers, looking at you with an air of absolute reverence. <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You grin proudly. That's the reaction you were hoping for. <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your cheeks heat at his dubbing of you as 'special'.<</if>><<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Your mouth twists at his enthusiasm. You're not sure what he finds so great about it, but then you suppose he only knows the stories of Bladeweavers and not the reality; what you're going to experience one day.<<if $samRomance == 1>> Despite that, your cheeks heat at his dubbing of you as 'special'.<</if>><<else>>You understand his enthusiasm. It must seem great to someone who's not going to be one, and doesn't understand what a mixed bag the whole situation is.<<if $samRomance == 1>> Despite that, your cheeks heat at his dubbing of you as 'special'.<<else>><</if>><</if>> <<if $chap2SamMeet == "punch">>"Y'know, it's no wonder you punched me so good, you're prob'ly getting trained by, like, //masters//! I'm pretty proud that I didn't get knocked out, y'know!" Sam grins at his joke while wiping at a few dried bits of blood that remain around his nose. You cringe inwardly upon remembering your initial response to Sam's arrival. The two of you sit in contemplative silence for a few moments, just listening to the placid sounds of the forest, no longer as oppressive as they'd been when you were searching for whatever it is that brought you here.<<else>>The two of you sit in contemplative silence for a few moments, just listening to the placid sounds of the forest, no longer as oppressive as they'd been when you were searching for whatever it is that brought you here.<</if>> You notice that midday has begun to fade into afternoon, and are made keenly aware of how much time you've actually spent here. It's been a //while//, you should probably get home to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>>. Sam must notice your contemplation, because he asks, "What's up?" "It's getting late... I think my <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> might be waiting for me." You explain. "We should go home." "I'll come with you!" Sam cheers, hopping up immediately and waiting for you to do the same with his hands confidently planted on his hips. "I know the way out, c'mon!" Well, that's that, then. You'll leave the forest with Sam and hopefully someone will be waiting for you once you're out. You inwardly chuckle at the thought of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> stomping around the forest trying to find you, though. Hopefully that isn't happening right now. You follow Sam as he sets off on a clearly chosen path, skipping and hopping along the dense forest floor. He looks behind his shoulder at you and <<if $samRomance == 1>>you just look at eachother for a moment, a hint of red blooming on the boy's round cheeks as he turns back to focus on walking.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>you smile at one another with the shared excitement of having made a new friend.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samChap2Opinion == "unfond">>quickly looks away, uncertainly.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samChap2Opinion == "unsure">>quirks his lips up uncertainly, offering a tentative smile before turning back to focus on walking.<</if>> [[Warmed by mid-afternoon sunlight, you exit the forest with Sam.|Chap2Scene23]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes" >>As excited as you are at the whole prospect, you opt not to tell Sam that you'll one day become a Bladeweaver, just like your mentors. Maybe you can tell him some other time, or he'll find out on his own somehow.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>You're not too excited at the whole prospect, so you opt not to tell Sam that you'll one day become a Bladeweaver, just like your mentors.<<else>>Your thoughts remain mixed on the whole prospect, so you opt not to tell Sam that you'll one day become a Bladeweaver, just like your mentors.<</if>> "So, yeah. I know people //because// of them, I'm not really that special myself." You glumly answer instead, attempting to hide the truth. "Of course you're special, $firstname! Everyone is! Why're we here otherwise?" He says cheerily. You don't really have an answer to that<<if $samRomance == 1>>, though your cheeks heat and you try your best to avoid his eyes at his dubbing of you as 'special'.<<else>>.<</if>> Sam just smiles that same wide smile at you and idly fidgets with the makeshift seat beneath him. The two of you sit like that in contemplative silence for a few moments, just listening to the placid sounds of the forest, no longer as oppressive as they were when you were searching for whatever it is that brought you here. You notice that midday has begun to fade into afternoon, and are made keenly aware of how much time you've actually spent here. It's been a //while//, you should probably get home to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>>. Sam must notice your contemplation, because he asks, "What's up?" "It's getting late... I think my <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> might be waiting for me." You explain. "We should go home." "I'll come with you!" Sam cheers, hopping up immediately and waiting for you to do the same with his hands confidently planted on his hips. "I know the way out, c'mon!" He knows //already//? Well, that's that, then. You'll leave the forest with Sam and hopefully someone will be waiting for you once you're out. You inwardly chuckle at the thought of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen stomping around the forest trying to find you, though. <<if $callenClose >= 55>>Hopefully that isn't happening at this very moment.<<else>>It would be hilarious.<</if>><<else>>Aunt Sonia stomping around the forest trying to find you, though. <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>Hopefully that isn't happening at this very moment.<<else>>It would be hilarious.<</if>><</if>> You follow Sam as he sets off on a clearly chosen path, skipping and hopping along the dense forest floor. He looks behind his shoulder at you and <<if $samRomance == 1>>you just look at one another for a moment, a hint of red blooming on the boy's dimpled, smiling cheeks as he turns back to focus on walking.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>you smile at one another with the shared excitement of having made a new friend.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samChap2Opinion == "unfond">>quickly looks away, uncertainly.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samChap2Opinion == "unsure">>quirks his lips up uncertainly, offering a tentative smile before turning back to focus on walking.<</if>> [[Warmed by mid-afternoon sunlight, you exit the forest with Sam.|Chap2Scene23]]

Sam, remembering your earlier attempt at swerving his question about the tower, speaks up once more. "I'm //gonna// figure out where you watch the Veil from, y'know. Or maybe I'll just find somewhere nice out here to watch it. I'll let you in on my secret, if you're nice!" He sticks his tongue out cheekily before switching subjects once more. "Anyway, you must be pretty special if you know mages and all that, right? You secretly a lord's kid or something?" It's difficult to ignore the skepticism creeping into his expression at the possibility you might be. You tilt your head at him. "//I'm// not special, not really. My Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen are Bladeweavers, so they know lots of people. //Especially// Uncle Callen." You add, thinking of the sheer amount of acquaintances across Sola he seems to have. It's rare to see someone who doesn't at least recognize the master Bladeweaver. "Oh, right! I think I heard <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>the lady talking about bein' a Bladeweaver. Does she have a greensteel sword, as well? Is she a knight?" His blue eyes sparkle. "She does! They're both masters, too." You answer.<<else>>the man talking about bein' a Bladeweaver. Does he have a greensteel sword, as well? Is he a knight?" His blue eyes sparkle. "It's a poleaxe, but yes. They're both masters, too." You answer.<</if>> "So wicked..." Sam says under his breath. It seems he holds Bladeweavers in high regard. [[You may as well tell him you're going to be one, one day. (Honesty +)|Chap2Scene22Tell][$samKnowsBW to "yes", $honesty to $honesty + 3]] [[You decide not to tell him that you're going to be one, one day. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene22DontTell][$samKnowsBW to "no", $honesty to $honesty - 3]]

$chap2BWExcited: yes,no,unsure $chap2Archery: dislikeVocal,dislikeQuiet,likeVocal,likeQuiet $chap2OtherKid: like,dislike,neutral $chap2Training: like,dislike $chap2Forest: excited,nervous $chap2SamMeet: fell,calm,startle,punch,scream $samNick: Clumsy,Starey,Speedy,Punchy,Screamy $samHandshake: yesB,yesN,noB,noN $samChap2Opinion: fond,unfond,unsure $samTower: yes,no Does Sam know about the mage's guild tower archer takes you to sometimes $samWantTower: yes,noLie,noTruth,noNeverTold $samKnowsBW: yes,no $samForestWalk: girlKnow,boyKnow,dontKnow $pushedSam: no,noSorry,yesFeelBad,yesDontCare,noNotSorry $samRace:bothWon,samWon,youWon Self-explanatory $samHoldHands:1(yes),0(no) Did you do it? $chap2WalkBack: reluctant,reluctantMentor,excited How did you feel about walking back with Sam? $ch2BlameSam1: yes,no,yesA,yesB Did you blame Sam for what happened? Why? $chap2Gift: pencils,locket,dagger,musicbox Self-explanatory $drawingSkill:1,2 (so far, increase in later chapters) Self-explanatory $chap2BringGift:yes,yesSam,no Did you bring your gift to Sam's house? Why? $samCh2Hug: yes, no Did you hug Sam? (This should be yes for all players) $samCh2Mad: yes, no Were you mad at Sam after what happened? $chap2GoHome: yes, no, noMad, yesTired, noTired, yesSam Did you go home? For what reason? $nickForSamCh2: yes, no Do you have a nickname for Sam? $chap2Hurt: yes, no Were you afraid your mentor would be hurt in the duel? $chap2Fair: yes, no Did you want to go to the fair? $chap2SamFair: no, yes Did Sam come to the fair with you? $chap2SamVisit: no, yes Have you visited Sam often in CH2? $chap2FTKnow: no, yes Did you hear your fortune teller prophecy $samDrawing: sam,sam2,whale,whale2,toy,toy2 What you drew for Sam (pencils route) and if it's good or not $ch2MentorFT: yes, no Did your mentor have their fortune read? $ch2MalackRevenge: yes, no Does MC wish for revenge against Ser Malack? $chap2Cat: like, dislike, afraid $chap2MagicTentItem: none, hairpin, marble, glowingring $stresult: lost, won, null (didnt compete) $starKnow: no, yes Do you know things about stars and astronomy? Only useful for Ch2. $samFriends: dislike, dislikeR, like, likeR, jealous, jealousR, notFriends Your relationship with Sam's gaggle of friends, as of Chapter 2. $samObvTell: no, yes Did Sam tell you about his worries and fears, as well as about the death of his mother? $chap2fairevents $ch2SamCrushMoment: 1 (forest) 2 (home) 3 (arena) 4 (obv)

It looks, well, //wrong.// The water should be reflecting the wooden beams that make up the ceiling of your room, but the reflection shown is ''green'', like the canopy of a forest. Then, as if spoken from directly behind you, you hear what sounds like a //voice//, spoken softly with a gravelly edge to it, like a dry itch in the back of your head. //<div id="invader-text">Come. Find...</div>// You flinch from the sudden heat in your hand, dropping the now scorching hot stone in the basin with a plop. A pillar of steam rises from the water as it begins to boil for a moment, before cooling the stone down. Casting a hurried look around your room, you find that nobody is there. That voice didn't sound like Aunt Sonia, though she's not even prone to playing pranks like this. <<if $cautious >= 55>>"...Hello?" You venture, speaking quietly and shyly as your eyes flit from each dark corner of your unlit room. All you can hear is the muffled clamour of Sola through your closed window and the sloshing of the disturbed water in the basin from when you dropped the stone.<<else>>"Show yourself!" You call out quietly but bravely, not wanting Aunt Sonia to hear you in the rare event that she //is// playing a trick on you, though that voice did //not// sound like her.<</if>> When no response comes, you turn your attention back to washing, hoping to forget the whole situation with this strange voice. [[Next|Chap2Scene14Son]]

It looks, well, //wrong.// The water should be reflecting the wooden beams that make up the ceiling of your room, but the reflection shown is ''green'', like the canopy of a forest. Then, as if spoken from directly behind you, you hear what sounds like a //voice//, spoken softly with a gravelly edge to it, like a dry itch in the back of your head. //<div id="invader-text">Come. Find...</div>// You flinch from the sudden heat in your hand, dropping the now scorching hot stone in the basin with a plop. A pillar of steam rises from the water as it begins to boil for a moment, before cooling the stone down. Casting a hurried look around your room, you find that nobody is there. That voice didn't sound like Uncle Callen, as prone to playing pranks like this as he is. <<if $cautious >= 55>>"...Hello?" You venture, speaking quietly and shyly as your eyes flit from each dark corner of your unlit room. All you can hear is the muffled clamour of Sola through your closed window and the sloshing of the disturbed water in the basin from when you dropped the stone.<<else>>"Show yourself!" You call out quietly but bravely, not wanting Uncle Callen to hear you in case he's playing a joke on you, though that voice did //not// sound like him.<</if>> When no response comes, you turn your attention back to washing, hoping to forget the whole situation with this strange voice. [[Next|Chap2Scene14Cal]]

For around five minutes this dance continues, the dummies becoming more and more aggressive in their efforts to catch Uncle Callen, but the old Bladeweaver is unexpectedly quick for a man of his size. He whirls around like someone thirty years younger, skipping from dummy to dummy as he harasses them equally, using a combination of his quick hands and bursts of power to win. It's almost like //he's// the one chasing them, rather than the other way round. His fighting style is one evidently honed by //decades// of proper experience. He builds on the fundamentals of combat, mixing in his own personal style to make for an unpredictable, quick-moving fighter, perfect for taking on a group of enemies. His style even holds up well in duels; when he practices against Aunt Sonia, they more often than not end up drawing, though she //is// more of a duelist than he, occasionally ekeing out a win, although he sometimes wins himself due to his expert guard - his weapon is more well-rounded than hers, after all, and he's had more time to master it. Indeed, his style is one of speed and grace. Offence and defence, in equal measure. He's a true //master// of his craft, though you've never seen him showing off like Aunt Sonia is prone to. Eventually, the dance stops. The dummies stand still, and Uncle Callen stops moving around. He comes over to you, tapping his staff on the floor to signal you to come over. "Do somethin' like that." He grins, looking rightly proud of himself. "//That?!// I don't even think I could do that for two minutes!" You balk. "We'll see, $callenChild. Remember, be light on your feet, heavy with your strikes. Stay fluid. They get ye, start over." With that, he signals the dummies to start up again, this time with a new target. [[You.|Chap2Scene11Cal]]

<<if $samKnowsBW == "yes" and $agab == "female">>Sam walks a good few paces ahead of you, but turns suddenly so that he's walking backwards. His steps are uncertain, the forest floor a long way off being friendly ground to walk on, but he seems to manage, levelling a shakily confident smile. He jovially swings his arms in a backwards motion, the inverse of what one would do if they were walking normally. Then, he speaks up. "So, you're a girl Bladeweaver, huh?" He looks at you with curiosity, not the dubious or mocking looks other children you've told about being a Bladeweaver have often given you. <<if $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>You nod readily, certain he won't say anything mean about anything. You've only known Sam for the better part of an hour or so, but you get the sense he isn't the type of boy to make fun of people - beyond a bit of cheekiness that you've already witnessed. "It's just... I haven't really... //heard// of any, y'know? They didn't teach us much about Bladeweavers back home anyway, but they definitely didn't teach us about any girl ones." "Well, here's one." You answer, smiling and pointing to yourself. "Or, I will be, at least." "Oh, I bet there's plenty, huh?" You nod in response to that. In fact, it was a woman Bladeweaver who was famed to have ended the Age of Hunts, if you recall. Sam beams, rattling on, "I know there's you, an' that Sonia lady, an' plenty of others, I bet! There's gotta be a bunch of statues of 'em up here, right?" "Oh, yes! They're //big//." You respond. They are; huge figures cut from marble or stone, towering as high as a house on occasion. Old heroes, immortalized for all to see.<<elseif $samChap2Opinion == "unfond">>You eye him suspiciously. "What's it to you?" You answer, already prepared to defend yourself. You're not about to take anything from this silly kid if he thinks a girl being a Bladeweaver is //funny//. Sam's eyes widen. "Oh, I wasn't tryin' to make fun of you! I just haven't really ... //heard// of any, y'know? They didn't teach us much about Bladeweavers back home anyway, but they definitely didn't teach us about any girl ones." "There's plenty of them..." You mutter, immediately thinking of your Aunt Sonia. "Oh, sure!" Sam beams now, rattling on, "There's you, an' that Sonia lady, an' plenty of others, I bet! There's gotta be a bunch of statues of 'em up here, right?" You nod, having seen them lots. They're //big//.<<elseif $samChap2Opinion == "unsure">>"Um, yes?" You answer, not sure what exactly he's getting at. He could end up making fun of you, like those other children. Your fears are assuaged when Sam's curious expression turns to the same friendly one he's had plastered on ever since you met him. "Sorry, s'just... I haven't really //heard// of any, y'know? They didn't teach us much about Bladeweavers back home anyway, but they definitely didn't teach us about any girl ones." Oh. He was just curious, then. "There's plenty, really." In fact, it was a woman Bladeweaver who was famed to have ended the Age of Hunts, if you recall. "Oh, sure!" Sam beams now, rattling on, "There's you, an' that Sonia lady, an' plenty of others, I bet! There's gotta be a bunch of statues of 'em up here, right?" You offer a hesitant smile and nod, having seen them lots. They're //big//.<</if>> "//Wicked//..." Sam says under his breath, and turns back around to focus on the walk, apparently satisfied with the answer you'd given.<<set $samForestWalk to "girlKnow">><<elseif $samKnowsBW == "yes" and $agab == "male">>Sam walks a good few paces ahead of you, but turns suddenly so that he's walking backwards. His steps are uncertain, the forest floor a long way off being friendly ground to walk on, but he seems to manage, levelling a shakily confident smile. He jovially swings his arms in a backwards motion, the inverse of what one would do if they were walking normally. "So, when're you actually gonna get to //be// a Bladeweaver?" Sam enquires, trying to hold your attention as best as one can when walking backwards over a cluttered forest floor. You think for a second before replying. "Until I start at the academy or until I graduate?" He makes a confused face. "What's graduate mean?" You giggle at his obliviousness and nod. "It means I'll get my Empyrean blade and do real missions. I start at the academy when I'm ten, in about two years, and I'll graduate when I'm eighteen. That'll be in... about ten years." <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">> That can't come soon enough!<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">> You dread that very day.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">> Maybe you'll warm up to the idea by then, but for now you're still unsure on the whole thing.<</if>> "Ten //years//?!" Sam blurts out, looking completely dumbfounded by that. "That's longer than I've even been alive, $firstname!" "How old are //you//?" You wonder aloud. He knows how old you are, you figure you should know the same now. Sam holds up his hands and wiggles nine fingers at you, giggling. "Turned nine last month! And you're... eight, right? If you start when you're ten, y'know." He says more to himself than you, just making sure that his numbers are right. You respond "I turned eight in Moro, about six months ago," and he smiles at your vindication. "Guess that makes me almost a year older'n you, huh? I actually get to start helpin' out at my pa's shop when I'm ten! S'gonna be //so// great! He says I'm gonna be his official repo-" he stumbles on that word, not getting it correct the first time, but sounds the word out slower with a sheepish grin, "uh, rep-resen-tat-ive, an' talk to //everyone//!" He beams proudly but turns around after that, apparently having finished with his short bragging session.<<set $samForestWalk to "boyKnow">><<elseif $samKnowsBW == "no">>Sam walks a good few paces ahead of you, but turns suddenly so that he's walking backwards. His steps are uncertain, the forest floor a long way off being friendly ground to walk on, but he seems to manage, levelling a shakily confident smile. He jovially swings his arms in a backwards motion, the inverse of what one would do if they were walking normally. Then, he speaks up. "How old're you, $firstname?" He asks, face a picture of curiosity. "Huh?" You blurt out, the sudden question having taken you off guard. <<if $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>"Why do you want to know?" You tilt your head quizzically. You can't imagine him doing anything bad with the information, but you're still curious. He shrugs, turning his palms up and shrugging in an exaggerated way. "Cause I'm bored?" He chuckles and presses his question again. "It's just nice to know stuff sometimes, y'know? I'll tell you how old I am if you do, how 'bout that?" He grins, thinking himself a master of negotiation. "I turned eight in Moro, about six months ago." You answer happily, and Sam smiles at the new information.<<else>>"What's it to you?" You tilt your head quizzically. What an odd thing to ask somebody. He shrugs, turning his palms up and shrugging in an exaggerated way. "Beeecause I'm bored?" He scratches the back of his head casually and presses his question again. "It's just nice to know stuff sometimes, y'know? I'll tell you how old I am if you do, how 'bout that?" He grins, thinking himself a master of negotiation. "I'm eight, if you really //have// to know." You answer reluctantly, and Sam smiles at the new information.<</if>> "I'm nine, so I'm a little older'n you, but my birthday was just last month! I figured you were a bit younger than me, anyway." How could somebody even know something like that? <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"How would you know?" You ask curiously.<<else>>"How would ''you'' know?" You ask, unable to hide the distaste in your tone.<</if>> "You're a little smaller than me, y'know? I could just tell you were a bit younger." He continues, "It's not bad or anythin', I'm just usually a little taller than other kids." Sam answers. For a moment he's quiet before apparently realizing something else. "Uh, not that bein' older always means you'll be taller! I knew this one kid at home, she was //twelve// and I was still a little bigger'n her! Weird how all that works out, huh?" "My Uncle Callen says I'll get taller when I'm older." You answer simply. You're a fairly regular height for a $child your age from what you've seen, and there's really no telling how tall or short you'll be once you're grown up since your parents aren't around at the minute for you to compare. Hopefully one day, once they're able to come back and take care of you? "Oh, for sure! I hope I'm gonna be taller'n //everyone//! My pa's actually not that tall for an adult, but apparently my..." he pauses for a second, perhaps focusing on maintaining his backwards walk, "uh, my ma was //real// tall, so I could get that from her! Pa says I got her hair an' eyes as it is." He says a little too cheerily, before turning around and continuing his regular walk. It seems this particular conversation is over for Sam.<<set $samForestWalk to "dontKnow">><</if>> As if from nowhere, he decides to break into a dash, getting far ahead of you. "C'mon! I think I remember where to go!" He calls out over his shoulder. [[Next|Chap2Scene24]]

<<if $chap2Forest == "excited">>What had been a pleasant romp through the forest before has almost become a race, with Sam dashing ahead of you, seemingly oblivious to any obstacle in his way. He moves with an impossible nimbleness for someone who's never even set foot in these woods before. Still, you welcome the challenge, sprinting at full pelt in a bid to catch up with him.<<else>>What had been an uncertain, lonely trudge through the forest before has almost become a race, with Sam dashing ahead of you, seemingly oblivious to any obstacle in his way. He moves with an impossible nimbleness for someone who's never even set foot in these woods before. You're decidedly less enthusiastic, keeping at a brisk jogging pace in order not to lose him, yet slow enough to avoid falling over on the chaotic forest floor.<</if>> <<if $cold >= 55>>"Slow down, Sam!" You grunt in-between hurried breaths, determined to catch up with the sprinting boy who breaks into scattered, excited giggles when he looks back at you giving chase. All you offer in return is a stony glare, <<if $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>though there's no malice behind it; you're truly relishing the chase. You haven't done something like this with another child, well, //ever//.<<else>>you'd rather not keep this whole thing up for much longer. //Could he run out of energy soon?// You utter a mental prayer to anything that might be listening.<</if>><<else>>"I'm gonna catch you!" You yell in-between ragged breaths, determined to catch up with the sprinting boy who breaks into scattered, excited giggles when he looks back at you giving chase. <<if $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>You've practically never played with another child like this, most of your interactions confined to small buildings meant to keep dozens of rowdy boys and girls inside and quiet. This is much better, you think.<<else>>Truthfully, you're just hoping for this chase to be over soon. He's tiring you out, but you're trying to humour him at the very least.<</if>><</if>> Whether Sam intentionally slows down or you manage to speed up, you find yourself within arms' reach of the boy. It could take just //one// burst of strength or speed to get past him. <<if $samKnowsBW == "yes">>"Keep up, Weaver $child!" Sam yells behind his shoulder, the words a clear challenge.<<else>>"Keep up, $samNick!" Your eyes narrow at the apparent nickname, the words a clear challenge.<</if>> The edge of the forest is now within view. If you want to beat him, you have to make a decision now! [[(STRENGTH) You might be strong enough to grab at him, and use the momentum to fling yourself past.|Chap2Scene25PushF]] [[(AGILITY) Pfft. You can just dash right on past. You're quicker than him!|Chap2Scene25DashF]] [[🌞- (STRENGTH) Barge into him from behind, attempting to knock him over. (Volatile +, Chivalrous -)|Chap2Scene25PushA][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $volatile to $volatile + 3, $chivalrous to $chivalrous - 5]] [[🌞+ You're content to let Sam win. This time, at least.|Chap2Scene25LetWin][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[Eh. You don't even want to race. Slow to a walk, and meet him at the forest's edge.|Chap2Scene25LetWinA]]

//Strength...// <<if $strength >= 1>>//Success.// You huff and puff as you get closer to Sam, taking the opportunity to grip his outstretched arm by the sleeve as he swings it around. The boy looks over his shoulder at you in surprise, blue eyes going wide as saucers. He's barely able to let out a shocked giggle before you yank, pulling him behind you and causing him to go slightly off-balance. Sam stumbles, and you think he might fall for a moment, but his balancing skills come through and he's now giving //you// chase, yelling disbelievingly. Your gambit paid off, it seems. The forest edge comes closer and closer and, suddenly, you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. You turn around at the sound of pattering feet behind you. Sam, red-faced and uncontrollably giggling to himself, comes to a screeching halt before you. He plants his hands on his hips, sending you a dubious look. "You //cheated//, $firstname!" He manages to get out in-between big gulps of air. He doens't seem mad about it, more at the fact that you actually //did// beat him. "I didn't even know we were racing!" You say innocently, unable to hide the smile creeping in at having won. Sam scrunches his mouth up contemplatively. "Huh ... Alright, next time I'll tell you if we're racing. And you can't grab me, either!" He adds loudly, laughing at your disappointed pout. [[🌞- There won't be a next time, you think as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "youWon"]] [[🌞+ Next time you'll beat him fair and square, you think as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "youWon"]]<<else>>//Failure.// You huff and puff as you get closer to Sam, taking the opportunity to grip his outstretched arm by the sleeve as he swings it around. The boys looks over his shoulder at you in surprise, blue eyes going wide as saucers. He's barely able to let out a shocked giggle before you yank, trying to pull him behind you. However, it seems you aren't quite strong enough to achieve this, as Sam just wrenches his arm out of your grip and seems to run //even faster//, sticking his tongue out at you cheekily as he speeds ahead of you, once more out of your reach. The forest edge comes closer and closer and, suddenly, you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. Sam comes to a screeching halt ahead of you, jumping up and down while squealing with delight. "I won! You tried to cheat an' I still won!" He cheers, though not teasingly, more at his own ability. "I didn't even know we were racing!" You say innocently, wishing your gambit had paid off. Sam scrunches his mouth up contemplatively. "Huh ... Alright, next time I'll tell you if we're racing. But you can't try and grab me!" He adds loudly, laughing at your narrowing eyes. [[🌞- There won't be a next time, you think as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "samWon"]] [[🌞+ Next time you'll beat him fair and square, you think as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "samWon"]]<</if>>

//Agility...// <<if $agility >= 1>>//Success.// You grit your teeth and will any last burst of stamina that you might have from deep within, translating it into a burst of speed that propels you right next to Sam, who manages to yell out a tired, disbelieving "Whoa!" as you sail past, <<if $chap2Forest == "nervous">>your earlier reservations about the forest forgotten in order to win this impromptu race.<<else>>giggling to yourself at running this fast through the forest, without a care in the world.<</if>> The forest edge comes closer and closer and, suddenly, you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. You turn around at the sound of pattering feet behind you. Sam, red-faced and uncontrollably giggling to himself, comes to a screeching halt before you. He plants his hands on his hips, sending you a reverent look<<if $samRomance == 1>> that gives you butterflies in your tummy.<<else>>.<</if>> "You're ... so //fast//!" He manages to get out in-between breaths, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs to try and get his breath back. When he does he stands tall again, grinning at you. "I never met anyone who beat me in a race! We should do it again one day." He says as he walks at your side, leaving the park. [[🌞- There won't be a next time, you think as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "youWon"]] [[🌞+ Your excitement grows at the prospect of another race as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "youWon"]]<<else>>//Failure.// You grit your teeth and will any last burst of stamina that you might have from deep within, but it's not enough. You manage to get just behind Sam, who cackles excitedly and speeds up once more, leaving you in the dust, or dirt, in this case. The forest edge comes closer and closer and, suddenly, you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. Sam comes to a screeching halt ahead of you, jumping up and down while squealing with delight. "I won! I won!" He cheers, though not teasingly, more at his own ability. You come to a tired stop behind him, and the boy turns and kindly pats your back as you lean over to catch your breath<<if $samRomance == 1>>, the contact making your cheeks warm a bit.<<else>>.<</if>> "Better luck next time, $firstname. I'm real fast, but you did good to keep up!" "I didn't even know we were racing..." You mutter to yourself, and he bites his lip in thought, wanting to make it up to you somehow. "Next time I'll tell you, make it fairer!" He offers, grinning as you recover and walk with him out of the park. [[🌞- There won't be a next time, you think as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "samWon"]] [[🌞+ Your excitement grows at the prospect of another race as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "samWon"]]<</if>>

//Strength...// <<if $strength >= 1>>//Success.// You get within reach of Sam and, taking the opportunity, you use your strength to try and barge into him from behind, wanting to send the boy to the floor. That'll teach him to try and beat you in a race. Unceremoniously, Sam clatters to the forest floor like a bag of dirt, a strangled yelp the only thing he's able to shout out as you dash away triumphantly. The forest edge comes closer and closer and, suddenly, you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. You turn around at the sound of pattering feet behind you. Sam, brushing leaves and dirt off himself, looks hesitantly at you as he approaches. "Y'really wanted to win, huh?" He smirks a little, wincing when he brushes a bit of soil from the back of his hand. He must've hurt it when he fell--a fall that you caused. Sam makes a small pained whine in the back of his throat, scrunching his mouth up as he prods at the pained area. [[🌞+ Well, now you feel bad. Ask him if he's alright - you didn't want to hurt him, just win.|Chap2Scene25.5][$pushedSam to "yesFeelBad", $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samRace to "youWon"]] [[That's too bad, but you don't really care. You won.|Chap2Scene25.6][$pushedSam to "yesDontCare", $samRace to "youWon"]]<<else>>//Failure.// You get within reach of Sam and, taking the opportunity, you use your strength to try and barge into him from behind, wanting to send the boy to the floor. That'll teach him to try and beat you in a race. Though, upon attempting your underhanded trick, you bounce right off of Sam's yellow-clothed back, inadvertently pushing him forward a little bit and giving the boy a burst of speed to get out of your reach again. He looks over his shoulder at you and cackles winningly. The forest edge comes closer and closer and, suddenly, you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. Sam comes to a screeching halt ahead of you, jumping up and down while squealing with delight. "I won! I won!" He cheers, more at his own ability than teasingly. Then he looks at you, and his eyes narrow dubiously, though he's still got a cheery smile in that //annoying// way of his. "You tried to cheat, huh?" Is all he says, not seeming too bothered about the fact you tried to throw him to the ground. You just shrug. "You didn't tell me were racing, so I wanted an advantage." Sam giggles at that. "I dunno, $firstname. I coulda been hurt! Next time I'll tell you when we're racin' so you don't try to push me over." He turns, signalling you to follow him out of the park. [[🌞+ "I'm sorry..." Is all you say, starting to feel bad about the attempt.|Chap2Scene25.7][$samRace to "samWon", $pushedSam to "noSorry", $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[You stay silent.|Chap2Scene26][$pushedSam to "noNotSorry", $samRace to "samWon"]]<</if>>

<<if $cold >= 55>>Sam belts out cheery greetings to almost every person he sees on the way to the park's entrance, while you keep silent.<<elseif $cold <= 54 and $cold >= 45>>Sam belts out cheery greetings to almost every person he sees on the way to the park's entrance, while you usually compliment his exaggerated introductions with a simple wave.<<else>>Sam belts out cheery greetings to almost every person he sees on the way to the park's entrance, and you're right there with him, waving enthusiastically.<</if>> When you do come to the entrance, however, you find that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen is nowhere to be found.<<else>>Aunt Sonia is nowhere to be found.<</if>> The fences surrounding the park's border loom over you ominously, wrought of dark iron like a cage's bars. Sam looks around, craning his neck to try and spot someone he might recognize, but comes up short. "Is $mentorThey meant to be waitin' here?" He enquires, looking over at you with a mild curiousness. He doesn't seem particularly bothered that nobody's waiting. "Mm-hm..." You respond, still looking around. You're both stood on the precipice of the park's entrance, the busy streets directly ahead of you, full of people and carriages. A horseless carriage, a big lumbering thing powered by magic rather than an animal, whirrs on past, its inner machinations loud enough to make even Sam cover his ears and back away, squinting uncomfortably. "Okay," He says resolutely, striding over with a clear plan in his eyes once the noisy machine is gone, "we'll just walk back on our own. It ain't that far, it's still light out, and we both kind of sort of know the way! How's that sound?" He sticks out a finger for each new point, laying his plans out to you like a list. Sam looks expectantly at you, smiling as if you'd already said 'yes' to his idea. [[Your eyes widen and your stomach sinks. "I've never walked around alone." (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene27Reluctant][$cautious to $cautious + 3]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Your face twists in reluctance. "Uncle Callen wouldn't like that."|Chap2Scene27ReluctantMentor]]<<else>>[[Your face twists in reluctance. "Aunt Sonia wouldn't like that."|Chap2Scene27ReluctantMentor]]<</if>> <<link `"Your $eyecolour eyes light up. " + "<q>Yes!</q>" + " (Cautious -)"`>> <<set $cautious to $cautious - 5>> <<goto Chap2Scene27Excited>> <</link>>

As Sam walks ahead of you, still nursing his sore hand, you take the opportunity to get his attention. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line with eyes that regard you with more caution than curiosity. "Does it hurt?" You ask, pointing at the hand he's currently cradling. "A bit..." He admits, rubbing a soothing thumb over the angry red area. It's difficult to ignore the small piece of guilt creeping in to your mind. You'd wanted to win, yes - but you hadn't intended to actually hurt the boy. "I'm sorry," you admit, your face twisting with guilt, "I.. I didn't mean to hurt you." Your apology seems to make Sam perk up, if only a bit--he's still painfully aware of what happened to his hand, of course. "S'alright, $firstname. Just remind me not to race you again, I like my hands!" He giggles, nudging you with his shoulder, the two of you smiling once more. "I didn't even know we were racing." You reason, and he nods in acknowledgement. "Well, next time I'll tell you beforehand, yeah?" He smiles and continues on. [[Next|Chap2Scene26]]

You opt to simply keep pace with Sam, content to let the boy win his race--one you hadn't even known was happening, really. The forest breezes past at a languid pace, Sam neither getting closer nor further away. Then, the boy throws a look over his shoulder at you. His brow furrows upon seeing that you're not giving chase as enthusiastically as he'd like and slows down so that he's now running side-by-side with you, matching pace with long, languid strides. "Oh no!" He yells, slowing down further so he actually ends up a little bit behind you, "You're too fast!" He isn't able to hide the mischievous giggle in his voice, and you realise something: Is he ... letting //you// win? [[🌞++ You aren't letting that happen. Drag him along with you to the finish line, together.|Chap2Scene25LetWin2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 4, $samRace to "bothWon"]] [[🌞+ If he wants to let you win, who are you to deny his wish?|Chap2Scene25LetWin3][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $samRace to "youWon"]]

Sam walks glumly ahead of you, still nursing his sore hand. That's a pity for him, but it's on him for falling, isn't it? On occasion he looks back at you, caution in his eyes rather than the friendly curiosity he'd previously worn. [[Next|Chap2Scene26alt]]

All of a sudden you stop and spin on your heels, rushing towards Sam to grab him by the shoulder and arm, hoisting him along with you to the finish line. The boy makes a surprised yelp but mostly goes along with your plan, giggling and trying to push you in front so you'll technically be the winner instead of him. "This isn't the plan!" He yells, unable to contain his laughter. Your struggle turns into a small wrestling match as you each try to throw the other to the edge of the forest which is so close you could practically touch it at this point. Then, as if from nowhere, you're //both// flung over the border, and you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. Sam, still clung on to you, breaks into riotous laughter at your insistence that the both of you win, so much so that he ends up coughing a little. When he does, he just looks at you, red-faced with a lingering grin and his hands on his hips. "I just wanted to let you win, but you wanted us //both// to win, huh?" He chuckles, clapping you on the back. "Thanks, $firstname. That was a good race." Sam throws you a smile that reaches beyond his blue eyes. <<if $samRomance == 1>>You're smiling too, while trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.<<else>><</if>> "Now that's done, we'd best get goin', yeah? See if someone's waiting for us." Sam smiles and turns, signalling you to follow him out of the park. [[Next|Chap2Scene26]]

You whip your head around and look at Sam, who's just looking at you and smiling while keeping up his slow jog. The forest edge comes closer and closer and, suddenly, you find yourself in the open air of the park once more. Pleasant green fields spread out before you, interspersed with various wildflowers and smaller trees. At this time, most people have left, but you spot the odd stroller or city watchman. You turn around at the sound of pattering feet behind you. Sam, red-faced and uncontrollably giggling to himself, comes to a stuttering halt before you. He plants his hands on his hips, sending you a cheery look<<if $samRomance == 1>> that makes your own smile curl up in response, without you thinking. Your hands feel warm. "Would you look at that, you won!" He laughs, an infectious grin plastered on his face that makes your own smile grow even wider<<if $cold >= 50>>, despite your best attempts to hide it.<<else>>, a smile that you wear as proudly as Sam does.<</if>><<else>>. "Would you look at that, you won!" He laughs, an infectious grin plastered on his face that has you smiling too<<if $cold >= 50>>, despite your best attempts to hide it.<<else>>, a smile that you wear as proudly as Sam does.<</if>><</if>> "You let me win." You point out. "I dunno about that, $firstname. I think you're just wicked fast, is all!" He winks exaggeratedly and giggles cheekily, clapping you on the shoulder and walking ahead of you, signalling you to follow him out of the park. "We'd best get goin' if there's gonna be someone waiting for us, huh?" [[Next|Chap2Scene26]]

<<set $chap2WalkBack to "reluctantMentor">><<if $mentor == "Callen">>You scuff your shoe on the rough stone path. "My Uncle Callen wouldn't like me going back on my own..." You say, <<if $callenClose <= 40>>with a note of distaste in your voice. Why does he have to be so annoying?<<elseif $callenClose >= 41 and $callenClose <= 55>>neutrally. You understand the rule itself, but you're not fond of it.<<elseif $callenClose >= 56>>understandingly. It's what Uncle Callen thinks is best!<</if>><<else>>You scuff your shoe on the rough stone path. "My Aunt Sonia wouldn't like me going back on my own..." You say, <<if $soniaClose <= 40>>with a note of distaste in your voice. Why does she have to be so strict?<<elseif $soniaClose >= 41 and $soniaClose <= 55>>neutrally. You understand the rule itself, but you're not fond of it.<<elseif $soniaClose >= 56>>understandingly. It's what Aunt Sonia thinks is best!<</if>><</if>> "Wellll," Sam says, drawing out the sound, "it doesn't look like $mentorThey's here. It's not //that// far, and," he grins cheekily, "you're not on your own, are you?" He points his thumbs at himself, striking a pose he thinks is strong. //He's right.// You admit to yourself, <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>fondly.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50>>irritatedly.<<elseif $samRelationship >= 50 and $samRomance == 1>>warmly.<</if>> Since it doesn't look like anyone's coming, you'll be making the trip back with Sam, it seems. Sensing your decision, the boy turns and almost skips along the path, his quick strides full of energy, even after what must have been a long day for him. [[Follow, tentatively. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene28Cautious][$cautious to $cautious + 3, $samHoldHands to 0]] [[Follow, excitedly. (Cautious -)|Chap2Scene28Excited][$cautious to $cautious - 3, $samHoldHands to 0]]

<<set $chap2WalkBack to "reluctant">>You chew your cheek uncomfortably, looking away from Sam. "I've never walked around alone before..." You mumble, cheeks heating in embarrassment. It feels so silly to say, considering Sam probably walked around his hometown alone //all// the time! Sam bites his top lip sympathetically. "Hey, it's not so bad, $firstname. You ain't alone!" He says, pressing a thumb into his chest and smiling cheekily. Well, he's //right//, but that still doesn't mean you're not afraid. Walking through the city with another child is different to having an adult at your side. "It's not the same." You mutter<<if $samRelationship < 50>>, shooting an annoyed look at him. He knows that's not what you meant.<<else>>.<</if>> He hums. "Yeah, I get it. But it doesn't look like anyone's comin', so we're gonna have to make the trip ourselves. Don't worry, I'll be right here, the //whole// time!" He pauses, thinking on something, before offering an outstretched hand. "What are you doing?" You ask, looking down at the proffered limb. "You can hold my hand if you're nervous!" Sam says cheerily, waggling his fingers at you. They're ... only //slightly// dirty, at least. <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your throat catches as he makes the offer, and you almost find yourself reaching out before stopping to think.<<else>><</if>> [[🌞+ Take his hand, nervously. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene28Cautious2][$cautious to $cautious + 2, $samHoldHands to 1, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3]] [[🌞+ Take his hand, happily. (Cautious -)|Chap2Scene28Excited2][$cautious to $cautious - 2, $samHoldHands to 1, $samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3]] [[Don't take his hand, though you're still nervous.|Chap2Scene28Cautious][$samHoldHands to 0]] [[Don't take his hand, though you're feeling better.|Chap2Scene28Excited][$samHoldHands to 0]]

<<set $chap2WalkBack to "excited">>You don't even realise you're smiling until Sam mirrors you with his own bright grin. "Yes?" He questions with a giggle, already knowing what you mean but wanting to make //absolutely// sure of your certainty. "Yes, let's do it!" You yell, breezing ahead of Sam and causing the boy to have to jog in order to catch up with you. <<if $mentor == "Callen">> "My Uncle Callen wouldn't like me going back on my own," You say, <<if $callenClose <= 40>>with a note of distaste in your voice, not understanding why he has to be so annoying,<<elseif $callenClose >= 41 and $callenClose <= 55>>neutrally, you understand the rule itself, but you're not fond of it,<<elseif $callenClose >= 56>>understandingly, it's what Uncle Callen thinks is best,<</if>> "but I'm not alone, am I?" You gesture to him vaguely, shaking your hands at Sam to enunciate your point. Sam shrugs his shoulders. "You're right, an' it's not a super long walk, anyway! I bet they'd let us come here on our own if they know we can do this, right?" You nod at that<<if $samRelationship >= 50>>.<<else>>, already thinking of ways you could get out of making this trip with him in the future.<</if>><<else>>"My Aunt Sonia wouldn't like me going back on my own," You say, <<if $callenClose <= 40>>with a note of distaste in your voice, not understanding why she has to be so strict,<<elseif $callenClose >= 41 and $callenClose <= 55>>neutrally, you understand the rule itself, but you're not fond of it,<<elseif $callenClose >= 56>>understandingly, it's what Aunt Sonia thinks is best,<</if>> "but I'm not alone, am I?" You gesture to him vaguely, shaking your hands at Sam to enunciate your point. Sam shrugs his shoulders. "You're right, an' it's not a super long walk, anyway! I bet they'd let us come here on our own if they know we can do this, right?" You nod at that<<if $samRelationship >= 50>>.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50>>, already thinking of ways you could get out of making this trip with him in the future.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>, your heart skipping a beat as you imagine walking with Sam all the time.<</if>><</if>> Sam turns and almost starts skipping across the path home, his quick strides full of energy even after what must have been a long day for him. [[You follow him.|Chap2Scene28Excited][$samHoldHands to 0]]

<<if $cold >= 55>>Sam makes quiet greetings to almost every person he sees on the way to the park's entrance, while you keep silent.<<elseif $cold <= 54 and $cold >= 45>>Sam makes quiet greetings to almost every person he sees on the way to the park's entrance, while you usually compliment his introductions with a simple wave.<<else>>Sam makes quiet greetings to almost every person he sees on the way to the park's entrance, but you're more cheery than him--owing to having won the race, even if your method wasn't exactly honourable.<</if>> When you do come to the entrance, however, you find that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen is nowhere to be found.<<else>>Aunt Sonia is nowhere to be found.<</if>> The fences surrounding the park's border loom over you ominously, wrought of dark iron like a cage's bars. Sam looks around, craning his neck to try and spot someone he might recognize, but comes up short. "Is $mentorThey meant to be waitin' here?" He enquires, looking over at you with a mild curiousness. He doesn't seem particularly bothered that nobody's waiting. "Mm-hm..." You respond, still looking around. You're both stood on the precipice of the park's entrance, the busy streets directly ahead of you, full of people and carriages. A horseless carriage, a big lumbering thing powered by magic rather than an animal, whirrs on past, its inner machinations loud enough to make even Sam cover his ears and back away, squinting uncomfortably. "Okay," He says resolutely, striding over with a clear plan in his eyes once the noisy machine is gone, "we'll just walk back on our own. It ain't that far, it's still light out, and we both kind of sort of know the way! How's that sound?" He sticks out a finger for each new point, laying his plans out to you like a list. Sam looks expectantly at you, smiling as if you'd already said 'yes' to his idea. [[Your eyes widen and your stomach sinks. "I've never walked around alone." (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene27Reluctant][$cautious to $cautious + 5]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Your face twists in reluctance. "Uncle Callen wouldn't like that."|Chap2Scene27ReluctantMentor]]<<else>>[[Your face twists in reluctance. "Aunt Sonia wouldn't like that."|Chap2Scene27ReluctantMentor]]<</if>> <<link `"Your $eyecolour eyes light up. " + "<q>Yes!</q>" + " (Cautious -)"`>> <<set $cautious to $cautious - 5>> <<goto Chap2Scene27Excited>> <</link>>

It feels strange, alien even, to be walking through Sola without an adult close by. The people you pass give you and Sam odd looks, which the older boy seems completely oblivious to as he chirps out his usual greetings, unbothered when someone doesn't deign to respond to him. There's an inescapable pit in your stomach that hasn't gone away even when you agreed to go along with Sam's plan. You can't help but think about <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> is going to think once $mentorThey realises you came back on your own--mostly. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You keep close to Sam, feeling comforted when he turns to look at you occasionally, making sure you're alright. You have to shuffle through the occasional pocket of people, earning glares and calls of displeasure when you startle a lady in a too-big dress.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50>>Despite your discomfort, you keep a slight distance from Sam. You have to shuffle through the occasional pocket of people, earning glares and calls of displeasure when you startle a lady in a too-big dress.<</if>> "Sorry!" Sam calls out over his shoulder as he skips ahead, speeding up to avoid trouble. You follow when, suddenly, you almost bump into a pair of City Watchmen, clad in sturdy leather armour atop a drab green uniform, a golden sun stitched onto their right sleeves. One of them, a stout man with a thick moustache and slick, black hair, looks down at you, unimpressed. "Taking a stroll alone, $child?" He seems to loom over you, but Sam comes to your rescue. "Nope, $they's with me!" He answers cheerily, not intimidated in the slightest. He just smiles at the men with the same attitude he's given everybody else. You're about to nudge him and whisper to be more respectful of them lest he gets in trouble, but you're surprised when the stout man chuckles. "Looks like it, lad. Where you two goin'?" He grunts, addressing both of you. <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"To the tavern." You grin cheekily. You probably shouldn't mess with him, but you couldn't help yourself, despite wanting to warn Sam about doing the exact same before. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, $child. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to yours. "We're going home!" Sam blurts out, looking at the conversation with wide eyes. He smiles shakily when the City Watchsmen look at him instead of you. "We live real close. We're not tryin' to cause trouble, honest!" He says earnestly.<<else>>"We're just goin' home." Sam answers for you, avoiding the stout man's eyes when he turns to stare at him. "Honest..." He adds, voice shaking a little. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, boy. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to Sam, who looks like he's about to bolt. <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your chest tightens at seeing him afraid--a strange want to protect him starts bubbling up.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samRelationship > 50>>Unease sets in at seeing him afraid--it's the first time you've seen him shaken by something.<<else>>It's strange to see him shaken by something. <<if $volatile >= 55>>"Leave him alone..." You mutter, with all the venom you can muster. The man's eyes dart disbelievingly to you and, just as he's about to say something further, he's interrupted.<<else>>There's a fraught moment of tension, and it looks like the stout man is about to speak again before he's interrupted.<</if>><</if>><</if>> [["Hang on." The second City Watchsman says.|Chap2Scene29]]

It feels strange, alien even, to be walking through Sola without an adult close by. The people you pass give you and Sam odd looks, which the older boy seems completely oblivious to as he chirps out his usual greetings, unbothered when someone doesn't deign to respond to him. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You keep close to Sam, chuckling conspiratorially with the boy when he turns to look at you momentarily. You have to shuffle through the occasional pocket of people, earning glares and calls of displeasure when you startle a lady in a too-big dress.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50>>You walk with Sam, listening to the boy's conspiratorial chuckles when he turns to look at you momentarily. You have to shuffle through the occasional pocket of people, earning glares and calls of displeasure when you startle a lady in a too-big dress.<</if>> "Sorry!" Sam calls out over his shoulder as he skips ahead, speeding up to avoid trouble. You follow when, suddenly, you almost bump into a pair of City Watchmen, clad in sturdy leather armour atop a drab green uniform, a golden sun stitched onto their right sleeves. One of them, a stout man with a thick moustache and slick, black hair, looks down at you, unimpressed. "Taking a stroll alone, $child?" He seems to loom over you, but Sam comes to your rescue. "Nope, $they's with me!" He answers cheerily, not intimidated in the slightest. He just smiles at the men with the same attitude he's given everybody else. You're about to nudge him and whisper to be more respectful of them lest he gets in trouble, but you're surprised when the stout man chuckles. "Looks like it, lad. Where you two goin'?" He grunts, addressing both of you. <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"To the tavern." You grin cheekily. You probably shouldn't mess with him, but you couldn't help yourself, despite wanting to warn Sam about doing the exact same before. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, $child. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to yours. "We're going home!" Sam blurts out, looking at the conversation with wide eyes. He smiles shakily when the City Watchsmen look at him instead of you. "We live real close. We're not tryin' to cause trouble, honest!" He says earnestly.<<else>>"We're just goin' home." Sam answers for you, avoiding the stout man's eyes when he turns to stare at him. "Honest..." He adds, voice shaking a little. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, boy. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to Sam, who looks like he's about to bolt. <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your chest tightens at seeing him afraid--a strange want to protect him starts bubbling up.<<elseif $samRomance == 0 and $samRelationship > 50>>Unease sets in at seeing him afraid--it's the first time you've seen him shaken by something.<<else>>It's strange to see him shaken by something. <<if $volatile >= 55>>"Leave him alone..." You mutter, with all the venom you can muster. The man's eyes dart disbelievingly to you and, just as he's about to say something further, he's interrupted.<<else>>There's a fraught moment of tension, and it looks like the stout man is about to speak again before he's interrupted.<</if>><</if>><</if>> [["Hang on." The second City Watchsman says.|Chap2Scene29]]

As Sam walks ahead, you take the opportunity to get his attention. He glances at you, wearing a curious smile, a kind gesture on his part considering what you'd tried to do just moments ago. "I'm sorry," you admit, your face twisting with guilt, "I.. I don't know why I tried to do that." Your apology seems to make Sam perk up again. "S'alright, $firstname. We'll have a proper race some day, with no pushing!" He giggles, nudging you with his shoulder, and the two of you smile once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene26]]

All three of you turn to look at the second City Watchsman, a tall man who hasn't spoken until now. His brown eyes scrutinize you carefully, scanning you like a half-recognised painting. "You," he nods at you briskly, "you're Edros and Wierszy's kid, aren't you?" <<if $cautious < 50>>You nod in the affirmative. "That's me!"<<else>>You nod hurriedly in the affirmative.<</if>> You'd rather not aggravate both of these men. There's a moment of silent tension and, like suddenly cutting a taut string, he chuckles. "Thought so!" Clapping his now-standing companion on the shoulder, he says, "This one lives just over on Lumi, Thom. I says we let 'em go. Don't really wanna have to deal with ''her'' getting up in our shit." He says with barely-hidden disdain. The stout man grunts uncomfortably. "Right ... Yeah. Go on, <<if $agab == "male">>lads.<<else>>children.<</if>> Straight to your homes." "Yep!" Sam peeps, clutching your sleeve and dragging you along with him, past the City Watchmen. Though, as he's doing so, a whistle from behind catches your attention. Sam stops with you as you turn your head to look at the source of the sound. The taller man, the one who spoke in your favour, looks at you with an odd smirk plastered on his pasty, clean-shaven face. "You stay away from the Flari district, alright kid? Nothin' good happens there." He chuckles darkly to himself, turning and walking away languidly while twirling a dark wooden baton around in his fingers. Sam's mouth twists in confusion as he glances at you. "What did //that// mean?" You just shrug, turning back to the path home<<if $samHoldHands == 1>>, joining hands once more.<<else>>.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene30]]

As you and Sam round the corner, having gotten to this point with a combination of your familiarity with Sola's streets and the boy's surprising navigational wit, your street comes into view. <<if $samHoldHands == 1>>Sam tugs you behind him as he hurriedly crosses the street, shying away from a parked carriage when the horse it's attached to whinnies unexpectedly. He bashfully looks at you, explaining, "Kinda scared of 'em..." His grip on your hand falters once you reach the entrance to next door's house--his house--you have to remind yourself. You soon find out the reason for this as he ascends the small set of wooden steps up to the door and knocks on it, rapping his knuckles lightly on the recently-repainted surface. "I'll be in soon, pa!" He calls out, shuffling over back to you without even waiting for a response from inside. Once back at your side, he grins as he escorts you the short way to your door.<<else>>Sam looks over his shoulder to make sure you're following as he hurriedly crosses the street, shying away from a parked carriage when the horse it's attached to whinnies unexpectedly. He bashfully looks at you, explaining, "Kinda scared of 'em..." Sam's position at your side is gone once you reach the door to next door's house--his house---you have to remind yourself. You soon find out the reason for this as he ascends the small set of wooden steps up to the door and knocks on it, rapping his knuckles lightly on the aged wooden surface. "I'll be in soon, pa!" He calls out, shuffling over back to you without even waiting for a response from inside. Once back at your side, he grins as he escorts you the short way to your door.<</if>> [["What are you doing?" You question. His house is right back there, so why is he sticking with you?|Chap2Scene31Ask]] [["...Your house is back there." You try to explain. Could he have forgotten it, even after having just called in?|Chap2Scene31Explain]] [[🌞- "Go away." You try to shoo him off. Why is he trying to get into your house?|Chap2Scene31Mean][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3]]

<<if $samRomance == 1>>You blankly stare at Sam's hand for a moment, trying your best to process what he'd just said. Despite your best efforts you feel your cheeks getting warm, and you barely muster the courage to look at Sam when you notice he's having the exact same problem. Before you change your mind, you quickly grasp onto his hand, interlocking your fingers. Sam chuckles at the rapid movement but doesn't say anything else, falling into step with you as your joined arms swing in the same arc. Sam's hand is warm and slightly sweaty, keeping a gentle but firm grip on your own. You avoid looking at Sam, nervously focused on the path ahead. It takes careful navigation to get around people while keeping your hands clasped--you certainly don't want to let go. Then, suddenly, you manage to bump in to somebody without noticing, caught up in your attempts to stay joined to Sam. Looking up, you realise it's a pair of City Watchmen, clad in sturdy leather armour atop a drab green uniform, a golden sun stitched onto their right sleeves. One of them, a stout man with a thick moustache and slick, black hair, looks down at you, unimpressed. Then, he spots your still-conjoined hands and huffs, smirking. "Are you two enjoying your stroll?" He asks, mockingly sweet. "Yep!" Sam responds, bright and chipper. He either didn't understand the man's sarcasm or is deliberately messing with him--you hope it's the first option. When Sam's eyes go off the man and back to your still-joined hands for a moment, the City Watchman half-barks, "You focus on me when I am speaking to you, boy. Let go of $their hand." Sam's hand grips yours tighter for a moment before he looks apologetically at you, letting go all of a sudden. Your hand feels cold. "Good," he says, "now, where are you two off to?" He looks between the two of you. "We're just goin' home." Sam answers for you, avoiding the stout man's eyes when he turns to stare at him. "Honest..." He adds, voice shaking a little. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, boy. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to Sam, who looks like he's about to bolt. Your chest tightens at seeing him afraid--a strange want to protect him starts bubbling up. <<if $volatile >= 55>>"Leave him alone..." You mutter, with all the venom you can muster. The man's eyes dart disbelievingly to you and, just as he's about to say something further, he's interrupted.<<else>>There's a fraught moment of tension, and it looks like the stout man is about to speak again before he's interrupted.<</if>><<else>>You blankly stare at Sam's hand for a moment, before reaching out with your own, clasping his warm hand in yours. He smiles kindly and sets off at your side, your joined arms swinging slightly. Sam's hand is warm and slightly sweaty, keeping a gentle but firm grip on your own. You let go every now and then when you need to navigate around people, finding it easier than having to keep your hands joined. Then, suddenly, you manage to bump in to somebody without noticing, caught up in trying to find Sam's hand again. Looking up, you realise it's a pair of City Watchmen, clad in sturdy leather armour atop a drab green uniform, a golden sun stitched onto their right sleeves. One of them, a stout man with a thick moustache and slick, black hair, looks down at you, unimpressed. Then, he spots your still-conjoined hands and huffs, smirking. "Are you two enjoying your stroll?" He asks, mockingly sweet. "Yep!" Sam responds, bright and chipper. He either didn't understand the man's sarcasm or is deliberately messing with him--you hope it's the first option. When Sam's eyes go off the man and back to your still-joined hands for a moment, the City Watchman half-barks, "You focus on me when I am speaking to you, boy. Let go of $their hand." Sam's grip on your hand loosens and falls away almost immediately as he gives you an apologetic look. "Good," he says, "now, where are you two off to?" He looks between the two of you. "We're just goin' home." Sam answers for you, avoiding the stout man's eyes when he turns to stare at him. "Honest..." He adds, voice shaking a little. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, boy. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to Sam, who looks like he's about to bolt. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>Unease sets in at seeing him afraid--it's the first time you've seen him shaken by something.<<else>>It's strange to see him shaken by something.<</if>> <<if $volatile >= 55>>"Leave him alone..." You mutter with all the venom you can muster. The man's eyes dart disbelievingly to you and, just as he's about to say something further, he's interrupted.<<else>>There's a fraught moment of tension, and it looks like the stout man is about to speak again before he's interrupted.<</if>><</if>> [["Hang on." The second City Watchsman says.|Chap2Scene29]]

<<if $samRomance == 1>>You blankly stare at Sam's hand for a moment, trying your best to process what he'd just said. Despite your best efforts you feel your cheeks getting warm, and when you muster the courage to look up at Sam you notice he's having the exact same problem. Before you change your mind, you quickly grasp onto his hand, interlocking your fingers. Sam chuckles at the rapid movement but doesn't say anything else, falling into step with you as your joined arms swing in the same arc. Sam's hand is warm and slightly sweaty, keeping a gentle but firm grip on your own. You steal the odd glance at one another, breaking into fits of giggles when you do so. It takes careful navigation to get around people while keeping your hands clasped--you certainly don't want to let go. Then, suddenly, you manage to bump in to somebody without noticing, caught up in attempting to stay joined to Sam. Looking up, you realise it's a pair of City Watchmen, clad in sturdy leather armour atop a drab green uniform, a golden sun stitched onto their right sleeves. One of them, a stout man with a thick moustache and slick, black hair, looks down at you, unimpressed. Then, he spots your still-conjoined hands and huffs, smirking. "Are you two enjoying your stroll?" He asks, mockingly sweet. "Yep!" Sam responds, bright and chipper. He either didn't understand the man's sarcasm or is deliberately messing with him--you hope it's the first option. When Sam's eyes go off the man and back to your still-joined hands for a moment, the City Watchman half-barks, "You focus on me when I am speaking to you, boy. Let go of $their hand." Sam's hand grips yours tighter for a moment before he looks apologetically at you, letting go all of a sudden. Your hand feels cold. "Good," he says, "now, where are you two off to?" He looks between the two of you. "We're just goin' home." Sam answers for you, avoiding the stout man's eyes when he turns to stare at him. "Honest..." He adds, voice shaking a little. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, boy. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to Sam, who looks like he's about to bolt. Your chest tightens at seeing him afraid--a strange want to protect him starts bubbling up. <<if $volatile >= 55>>"Leave him alone..." You mutter with all the venom you can muster. The man's eyes dart disbelievingly to you and, just as he's about to say something further, he's interrupted.<<else>>There's a fraught moment of tension, and it looks like the stout man is about to speak again before he's interrupted.<</if>><<else>>You blankly stare at Sam's hand for a moment, before reaching out with your own, clasping his warm hand in yours. He smiles kindly and sets off at your side, your joined arms swinging slightly. Sam's hand is warm and slightly sweaty, keeping a gentle but firm grip on your own. You let go every now and then when you need to navigate around people, finding it easier than having to keep your hands joined. Then, suddenly, you manage to bump in to somebody without noticing, caught up in trying to find Sam's hand again. Looking up, you realise it's a pair of City Watchmen, clad in sturdy leather armour atop a drab green uniform, a golden sun stitched onto their right sleeves. One of them, a stout man with a thick moustache and slick, black hair, looks down at you, unimpressed. Then, he spots your still-conjoined hands and huffs, smirking. "Are you two enjoying your stroll?" He asks, mockingly sweet. "Yep!" Sam responds, bright and chipper. He either didn't understand the man's sarcasm or is deliberately messing with him--you hope it's the first option. When Sam's eyes go off the man and back to your still-joined hands for a moment, the City Watchman half-barks, "You focus on me when I am speaking to you, boy. Let go of $their hand." Sam's grip on your hand loosens and falls away almost immediately as he gives you an apologetic look. "Good," he says, "now, where are you two off to?" He looks between the two of you. "We're just goin' home." Sam answers for you, avoiding the stout man's eyes when he turns to stare at him. "Honest..." He adds, voice shaking a little. The moustached man doesn't look impressed at all. "Policy is to take unruly, unattended children in until their parents can find 'em, boy. Are you unruly?" He leans down a little, bringing his shadowed face closer to Sam, who looks like he's about to bolt. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>Unease sets in at seeing him afraid--it's the first time you've seen him shaken by something.<<else>>It's strange to see him shaken by something.<</if>> <<if $volatile >= 55>>"Leave him alone..." You mutter with all the venom you can muster. The man's eyes dart disbelievingly to you and, just as he's about to say something further, he's interrupted.<<else>>There's a fraught moment of tension, and it looks like the stout man is about to speak again before he's interrupted.<</if>><</if>> [["Hang on." The second City Watchsman says.|Chap2Scene29]]

<<if $instinct >= 1>>//Success.// You catch it without a problem, an unbidden smile creeping onto your face at Aunt Sonia's cool nod as you approach.<<else>>//Failure.// You try to catch the sword, but your hand-eye coordination isn't quite enough to be able to get it at the right time. The hilt of the weapon bounces clumsily off your outstretched hand and you scurry to pick it up, smiling sheepishly at Aunt Sonia as you approach.<</if>> "Assume your stance." The order is given out quietly but firmly. No more breaktime, then. You keep your feet shoulder width apart, taking a step forward with your left foot, maintaining the balance in your weight. You keep yourself on the balls of your feet to improve your mobility, standing upright, poised to move at a moment's notice. The tip of the sword is held out ahead of you, with a two-handed grip on the mid-sized hilt in what is known as a long stance. You look to Aunt Sonia for guidance on what to do next, and she nods. "Lunge, downward chop, and retreat. Move through this ten times until you can do it smoothly in three seconds. Watch me first." She spins her own wooden training sword around in her hand, performing a fancy flourish - more to show off to you than anything - before assuming a stance similar to yours, only she holds her blade with one hand as is usual for her. You know she uses this odd one-handed grip for her real weapon as well - her Empyrean steel falchion. She swings it around as if it weighs as much as a small knife, which you suppose it does, now that you think of it. Empyrean steel's most famed property is its magical ability to attune to its wielder, becoming feather-light for them but far heavier for anyone else, which is why it's so destructive, it's like being hit by //ten// swords' worth of sword, essentially. It also makes Empyrean weapons superbly difficult for anyone who isn't related to the wielder to use. You'd seen Aunt Sonia try to lift Uncle Callen's poleaxe for you to demonstrate, and she said it felt like trying to pick up an ox. You're not sure //why// people related to the wielder of the weapon can use it, but you assume you'll find out one day. [[You draw your attention back to the dummy as Aunt Sonia lunges.|Chap2Scene11Son]]

You give Sam an odd look, and the boy gives you one right back. "What's up?" He asks. "What ... are you doing?" You respond with a question of your own. Sam smiles, like it's obvious, or something. "I thought you might want me to stay, so it wouldn't look like you'd come home alone!" He responds chipperly. You hadn't even thought of that! "Oh! Alright then." You say, turning to the door to knock. [[Knock loudly.|Chap2Scene32Loud]] [[Knock like a normal person would.|Chap2Scene32]]

You give Sam an odd look, and the boy gives you one right back. "What's up?" He asks. "You can go home, you know. I won't get hurt or anything." You respond, giggling. Sam snickers at your joke. "I know! I just thought you might want me to stay here, so it doesn't look like you came home on your own, is all." He smiles lopsidedly. You hadn't even thought of that! "Oh! Alright then." You say, turning to the door to knock. [[Knock loudly.|Chap2Scene32Loud]] [[Knock like a normal person would.|Chap2Scene32]]

You whip your head round to glare at Sam, narrowing your eyes. "Go away." "Huh?" He blinks at you, unconsciously fidgeting with his hands. Must be a nerves thing, not that you particularly care. "Why are you still here?" You question, crossing your arms. Sam looks at the door before answering. "I thought you might want me to stay, so it wouldn't look like you'd come home alone..." He mutters sheepishly. <<if $samRelationship < 43>>Your eyes narrow further. "Fine." You say through clenched teeth, turning back to the foor to knock. <<else>>"...That makes sense, I guess." You mutter, turning back to the door to knock.<</if>> [[Knock loudly.|Chap2Scene32Loud]] [[Knock like a normal person would.|Chap2Scene32]]

Your knock is as loud as you can manage, balled fist pounding on the hard wood. It might not be the smartest thing to do, but it felt good. The loud booming sound that follows is equally satisfying. Sam winces, leaning back slightly from the noise. "Heads up next time?" He chuckles, looking away from the door nonchalantly. <<if $samRelationship < 43>>You'd comment on his odd behaviour, but you're rather more focused on the impending consequences of coming back without <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>>.<<else>>You'd pay more attention to him, but you're rather more focused on the impending consequences of coming back without <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>>.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Hold yer horses, Gods be good!" A deep voice yells from inside the door. <<if $patient > 50>>You opt to wait instead of calling out and, eventually, the door opens, revealing Uncle Callen. At first he doesn't see you, and you can only assume he thinks it's somebody older who's come to visit but, upon seeing there's nobody, he quickly snaps his gaze downward. His eyes widen upon seeing you along with Sam. For a second he doesn't speak at all, the only sounds he makes being bewildered sputters and mumbles. He finds his words soon enough though, and crosses his arms. "And what're //ye// doin' home?<<if $chap2SamMeet == "fell">> An' why are ye //wet//?"<<else>><</if>> His gaze is uncharacteristically strict, grey eyes cold as they scan you. When he glances at Sam his gaze softens. He must understand that you haven't been truly alone, at the very least. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Mister Callen!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "I didn't think--" Uncle Callen interrupts the boy. "Don't be thinkin' I'm mad, alright? I'm just worried for the both of ye. It's not a short way back, from the park..." He sighs, looking up to the sky for a moment, "At least you're both alright. You run on home now, lad." He nods at Sam, smiling comfortingly at the boy, "We'll be seein' ya tonight, anyway." <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Okay, Mister Callen! See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Okay, Mister Callen! Um... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him go so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... wonderful.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Uncle Callen, whose disappointed gaze is now firmly on you, alone. "Unc--" You start, but are interrupted by a hand signalling you to 'stop'. "Scared me half to death with that knock, you did. C'mon inside, $callenChild. Ye can explain things to me later, an' talk about your new friend, eh?" He chuckles, though his expression is far from a smile. [[Follow him inside.|Chap2Scene33Cal]]<<else>>You call out, "It's me!", not willing to wait. A confused "That you, $callenChild?" from inside signals his recognition and it's not long before the door opens, revealing Uncle Callen. He looks down at you, stood with Sam, and his eyes widen. For a second he doesn't speak at all, the only sounds he makes being bewildered sputters and mumbles. He finds his words soon enough though, and crosses his arms. "And what're //ye// doin' home?<<if $chap2SamMeet == "fell">> An' why are ye //wet//?"<<else>><</if>> His gaze is uncharacteristically strict, grey eyes cold as they scan you. When he glances at Sam his gaze softens. He must understand that you haven't been truly alone, at the very least. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Mister Callen!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "I didn't think--" Uncle Callen interrupts the boy. "Don't be thinkin' I'm mad, alright? I'm just worried for the both of ye. It's not a short way back, from the park..." He sighs, looking up to the sky for a moment, "At least you're both alright. You run on home now, lad." He nods at Sam, smiling comfortingly at the boy, "We'll be seein' ya tonight, anyway." Sam's nervous countenance improves somewhat. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Okay, Mister Callen! See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Okay, Mister Callen! Um ... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him leave so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... wonderful.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Uncle Callen, whose disappointed gaze is now firmly on you, alone. "Unc--" You start, but are interrupted by a hand signalling you to 'stop'. "Scared me half to death with that knock, you did. C'mon inside, $callenChild. Ye can explain things to me later, an' talk about your new friend, eh?" He chuckles, though his expression is far from a smile. [[Follow him inside.|Chap2Scene33Cal]]<</if>><<else>>"Fucking hell, wait a second!" A stressed voice calls from inside the door, the curse making you and Sam look at one another with wide eyes. <<if $patient > 50>>You opt to wait instead of calling out and, eventually, the door opens, revealing Aunt Sonia. "Try not to knock my damned door out of its fr--" At first she doesn't see you, and you can only assume she thinks it's somebody older who's come to visit but, upon seeing there's nobody, she quickly snaps his gaze downward. Her eyes widen upon seeing you along with Sam. She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe in a display of eerie calm. "Welcome back, $firstname." She blinks slowly at you. "Was your walk home pleasant?" The words are spoken tersely, with a stern edge. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Miss Sonia!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "Please dont be mad, I just thought--" Aunt Sonia stops him with a single raised finger. "I'm not mad at you, kid." She says, pointedly looking at Sam when she says the words. "Go on home, now. I'll be seeing you and your father later tonight, anyway." "O-oh, yeah, I forgot! Um, bye, Miss Sonia..." Sam turns to you then. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Uh ... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him leave so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... wonderful.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Aunt Sonia, whose coolly irritated gaze lands on you alone. "Aun--" You start, but are interrupted by a "mm-mm" sound from her. "You'll explain yourself inside, once you've sat down. Your legs are shaking." She points out, and you realise they indeed are upon looking down. [[Follow her inside.|Chap2Scene33Son]]<<else>>You call out, "It's me!", not willing to wait. "//$firstname//?" The voice from behind the door is bewildered and more than a little tense. You cringe at yourself for having decided to call out in impatience. The door flies open, revealing Aunt Sonia, who stares down at you and Sam. She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe in a display of eerie calm. "Welcome back, $firstname." She blinks slowly at you. "Was your walk home pleasant?" The words are spoken tersely, with a stern edge. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Miss Sonia!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "Please dont be mad, I just thought--" Aunt Sonia stops him with a single raised finger. "I'm not mad at you, kid." She says, pointedly looking at Sam when she says the words. "Go on home, now. I'll be seeing you and your father later tonight, anyway." "O-oh, yeah, I forgot! Um, bye, Miss Sonia..." Sam turns to you then. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Uh ... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him leave so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... wonderful.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Aunt Sonia, whose coolly irritated gaze lands on you alone. "Aun--" You start, but are interrupted by a "mm-mm" sound from her. "You'll explain yourself inside, once you've sat down. Your legs are shaking." She points out, and you realise they indeed are upon looking down. [[Follow her inside.|Chap2Scene33Son]]<</if>><</if>>

Your knock is light and hesitant, perhaps aided by the fact you rarely have to knock on your own door. At your side, Sam twists around nochalantly, craning his neck to look around as much as he possibly can while still staying on two feet. <<if $samRelationship < 43>>You'd comment on his odd behaviour, but you're rather more focused on the impending consequences of coming back without <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>>.<<else>>You'd pay more attention to him, but you're rather more focused on the impending consequences of coming back without <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>>.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just a mo'!" A deep voice calls from inside the door. <<if $patient > 50>>You opt to wait instead of calling out and, eventually, the door opens, revealing Uncle Callen. At first he doesn't see you, and you can only assume he thinks it's somebody older who's come to visit but, upon seeing there's nobody, he quickly snaps his gaze downward. His eyes widen upon seeing you along with Sam. For a second he doesn't speak at all, the only sounds he makes being bewildered sputters and mumbles. He finds his words soon enough though, and crosses his arms. "And what're //ye// doin' home?<<if $chap2SamMeet == "fell">> An' why are ye //wet//?"<<else>><</if>> His gaze is uncharacteristically strict, grey eyes cold as they scan you. When he glances at Sam his gaze softens. He must understand that you haven't been truly alone, at the very least. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Mister Callen!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "I didn't think--" Uncle Callen interrupts the boy. "Don't be thinkin' I'm mad, alright? I'm just worried for the both of ye. It's not a short way back, from the park..." He sighs, looking up to the sky for a moment, "At least you're both alright. You run on home now, lad." He nods at Sam, smiling comfortingly at the boy, "We'll be seein' ya tonight, anyway." <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Okay, Mister Callen! See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Okay, Mister Callen! Um... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him go so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... wonderful.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Uncle Callen, whose disappointed gaze is now firmly on you, alone. "Unc--" You start, but are interrupted by a hand signalling you to 'stop'. "C'mon inside, $callenChild. Ye can explain things to me later, an' talk about your new friend, eh?" He chuckles, though his expression is far from a smile. [[Follow him inside.|Chap2Scene33Cal]]<<else>>You call out, "It's me!", not willing to wait. A confused "That you, $callenChild?" from inside signals his recognition and it's not long before the door opens, revealing Uncle Callen. He looks down at you, stood with Sam, and his eyes widen. For a second he doesn't speak at all, the only sounds he makes being bewildered sputters and mumbles. He finds his words soon enough though, and crosses his arms. "And what're //ye// doin' home?<<if $chap2SamMeet == "fell">> An' why are ye //wet//?"<<else>><</if>> His gaze is uncharacteristically strict, grey eyes cold as they scan you. When he glances at Sam his gaze softens. He must understand that you haven't been truly alone, at the very least. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Mister Callen!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "I didn't think--" Uncle Callen interrupts the boy. "Don't be thinkin' I'm mad, alright? I'm just worried for the both of ye. It's not a short way back, from the park..." He sighs, looking up to the sky for a moment, "At least you're both alright. You run on home now, lad." He nods at Sam, smiling comfortingly at the boy, "We'll be seein' ya tonight, anyway." Sam's nervous countenance improves somewhat. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Okay, Mister Callen! See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Okay, Mister Callen! Um ... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him leave so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... wonderful.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Uncle Callen, whose disappointed gaze is now firmly on you, alone. "Unc--" You start, but are interrupted by a hand signalling you to 'stop'. "C'mon inside, $callenChild. Ye can explain things to me later, an' talk about your new friend, eh?" He chuckles, though his expression is far from a smile. [[Follow him inside.|Chap2Scene33Cal]]<</if>><<else>>"Coming!" A stressed voice calls from inside the door. <<if $patient > 50>>You opt to wait instead of calling out and, eventually, the door opens, revealing Aunt Sonia. At first she doesn't see you, and you can only assume she thinks it's somebody older who's come to visit but, upon seeing there's nobody, he quickly snaps his gaze downward. Her eyes widen upon seeing you along with Sam. She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe in a display of eerie calm. "Welcome back, $firstname." She blinks slowly at you. "Was your walk home pleasant?" The words are spoken tersely, with a stern edge unusual for even her. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Miss Sonia!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "Please dont be mad, I just thought--" Aunt Sonia stops him with a single raised finger. "I'm not mad at you right now, kid." She says, pointedly looking at Sam when she says the words. "Go on home, now. I'll be seeing you and your father later tonight, anyway." "O-oh, yeah, I forgot! Um, bye, Miss Sonia..." Sam turns to you then. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Uh ... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him leave so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... something.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Aunt Sonia, whose coolly irritated gaze lands on you alone. "Aun--" You start, but are interrupted by a "mm-mm" sound from her. "You'll explain yourself inside, once you've sat down. Your legs are shaking." She points out, and you realise they indeed are upon looking down. [[Follow her inside.|Chap2Scene33Son]]<<else>>You call out, "It's me!", not willing to wait. "//$firstname//?" The voice from behind the door is bewildered and more than a little tense. You cringe at yourself for having decided to call out in impatience. The door flies open, revealing Aunt Sonia, who stares down at you and Sam. She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe in a display of eerie calm. "Welcome back, $firstname." She blinks slowly at you. "Was your walk home pleasant?" The words are spoken tersely, with a stern edge unusual for even her. In an effort to explain yourself, you start: "We were waiting outside the park, but nobody was there. We thought--" "It was my idea, Miss Sonia!" Sam peeps from his position behind you and off to your side. "Please dont be mad, I just thought--" Aunt Sonia stops him with a single raised finger. "I'm not mad at you, kid." She says, pointedly looking at Sam when she says the words. "Go on home, now. I'll be seeing you and your father later tonight, anyway." "O-oh, yeah, I forgot! Um, bye, Miss Sonia..." Sam turns to you then. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"See you, $firstname. Was fun racin' you." He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours before hopping over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<<else>>"Uh ... see you, $firstname." He says, giving a small wave before walking over to his own door, opening it without even a knock.<</if>><<if $samRomance == 1>> You feel a strange disappointment in seeing him leave so suddenly. You'd have liked to have spent more time with him. Yes, that would've been ... something.<<else>><</if>> You turn back to Aunt Sonia, whose coolly irritated gaze lands on you alone. "Aun--" You start, but are interrupted by a "mm-mm" sound from her. "You'll explain yourself inside, once you've sat down. Your legs are shaking." She points out, and you realise they indeed are upon looking down. [[Follow her inside.|Chap2Scene33Son]]<</if>><</if>>

It's after you've had a good few cups of icy water, gulping the near-frozen liquid down eagerly to satiate your (until now) ignored thirst, that you find yourself sat beside Uncle Callen on one of the big sofas in your living room. He sits, turned slightly to face you, with a pensive look on his worn face. You're curled up on the other end of the sofa, facing him directly, <<if $cautious > 50>>with your head tucked nervously into your knees.<<else>> with your head held up, waiting for him to speak.<</if>> He breathes in, deep. The motion makes him rise up slightly, before coming back down with a drawn out huff. His eyes dart to and fro, sometimes landing on you, sometimes not. Then, all of a sudden, he starts to speak. "Y'know, $callenChild, I used to run around my hometown with my own friends, back when I was yer age." He smiles wanly. "Those days're long since passed, but I remember 'em fondly, more fondly than most days I spent there." He chuckles softly. "That Sam, he's a nice lad, eh?" He asks suddenly, looking at you.<<if $samRelationship > 50>> You nod, having fond memories of the day with him already.<<else>> You shrug, not really understanding where he's going with this.<</if>> "So he convinced you to do it, $callenChild?" His voice is soft, the words more of a statement than a question, despite their tone. <<if $chap2WalkBack == "reluctant" or $chap2WalkBack == "reluctantMentor">>"Sort of..." You murmur, shrugging your shoulders high.<<elseif $chap2WalkBack == "excited">>You shake your head a little. "We both wanted to do it." You murmur.<</if>> "Ye understand that it was a silly thing to be doin', $callenChild?" He asks, leaning closer to you. "We've good reasons for insistin' ye don't explore the city on your own. Not everyone out there's kind, much as we wish it were different." His mouth forms into a small, sad smile. <<if $volatile > 55>>Indignation rises in your gut.<<if $samRelationship > 50>>"But I wasn't on my own!" You exclaim. "I had Sam with me, and we were //fine//!"<<else>>"But it was Sam's idea in the first place! You should be mad at him!"<</if>> "I'm not mad at //anybody//, $callenChild." He explains. "Just worried."<<else>>"I wasn't on my own," You try to explain yourself, "I had Sam with me, and we kept to the route he took."<</if>> He sighs softly, clasping his hands together while he thinks. "That wasn't what I was gettin' at, $firstname. It's important that ye listen to us, aye? The lessons we teach ain't just about swingin' swords and learnin' your numbers, it's //life//, $callenChild. Believe me, I've lived enough of it t'know a thing or two." He chuckles self-consciously. <<if $chap2WalkBack == "reluctant">>[["I didn't want to do it in the first place. It was scary." You sniff. "Sam convinced me."|Chap2Scene34CalR][$ch2BlameSam1 to "yes"]]<<elseif $chap2WalkBack == "reluctantMentor">>[["I knew you wouldn't want me to do it, honestly!" You defend yourself. "I just ... don't know what I was thinking."|Chap2Scene34CalRM][$ch2BlameSam1 to "no"]]<<elseif $chap2WalkBack == "excited">>[[You're starting to wonder why you'd done it in the first place. "I don't know what I was thinking.." You mutter.|Chap2Scene34CalE][$ch2BlameSam1 to "no"]]<</if>> <<if $samRelationship < 42>>[["Why aren't you getting mad at Sam?!" You protest. "He convinced me to do it in the first place!" (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene34CalV][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $ch2BlameSam1 to "yesA"]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam is not low enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [["It wasn't even me! Sam's the one who brought it up!" You protest, growing irritated at him for getting you in this situation. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene34CalV][$volatile to $volatile + 5, $ch2BlameSam1 to "yesB"]] <<link `"🐺- <q>You're //not// funny.</q> " + "You glare at him."`>> <<set $callenClose to $callenClose - 2>> <<goto Chap2Scene34CalA>> <</link>>

It's after you've had a good few cups of icy water, gulping the near-frozen liquid down eagerly to satiate your (until now) ignored thirst, that you find yourself positioned sheepishly opposite Aunt Sonia, each of you perched on the sofas that face one another in your living room. The curtains behind her are half-closed, allowing a small beam of light to travel into the room, illuminating her from behind. You have to squint whenever she shifts and lets the light hit your eyes. <<if $soniaClose <= 40>>It occurs that she might be doing it on purpose, and your fists clench in your lap.<<else>><</if>> She rests her head on her fist, elbow propped up on the armrest so that she's leaned to the side slightly. Those piercing green eyes study you neutrally, as her other hand taps her thigh. //Tap, tap, tap.// //Tap, tap.// //Tap, tap, tap.// //Tap, tap, tap, tap.// //Tap, tap.// As soon as the tune starts to become something vaguely familiar, she stops and her eyes become more focused: narrow slits of vibrant green. "So, I'm curious as to why you thought it was //remotely// reasonable to do that, $firstname. Your Uncle Callen and I have been deadly serious on travelling the city without us. You could've been hurt. Those streets aren't safe for a child, and you //know// that." She says, low and even, though her voice begins to grow strained. <<if $volatile > 55>>Indignation rises in your gut.<<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"But I wasn't on my own!" You exclaim. "I had Sam with me, and we were //fine//!"<<else>>"But it was Sam's idea in the first place! You should be mad at him!"<</if>><<else>>"I wasn't on my own," You try to explain yourself, "I had Sam with me, and we even kept to the route he took."<</if>> She sighs. "That's hardly the point, $firstname. I was //just// about to set off to grab you. What if you weren't there, and I wasn't here?" "I could have gone to Sam's." You point out. "Also not the point," she grumbles, as she's wont to do when growing impatient, "you didn't //listen//." <<if $chap2WalkBack == "reluctant">>[["I didn't want to do it in the first place. It was scary." You sniff. "Sam convinced me."|Chap2Scene34SonR][$ch2BlameSam1 to "yes"]]<<elseif $chap2WalkBack == "reluctantMentor">>[["I knew you wouldn't want me to do it, honestly!" You defend yourself. "I just ... don't know what I was thinking."|Chap2Scene34SonRM][$ch2BlameSam1 to "no"]]<<elseif $chap2WalkBack == "excited">>[[You're starting to wonder why you'd done it in the first place. "I don't know what I was thinking.." You mutter.|Chap2Scene34SonE][$ch2BlameSam1 to "no"]]<</if>> <<if $samRelationship < 42>>[["Why aren't you getting mad at Sam?!" You protest. "He convinced me to do it in the first place!" (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene34SonV][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $ch2BlameSam1 to "yesA"]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam is not low enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [["It wasn't even me! Sam's the one who brought it up!" You protest, growing irritated at him for getting you in this situation. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene34SonV][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $ch2BlameSam1 to "yesB"]] <<link `"🦅- <q>You would've been mad about something else even if I //had// listened.</q> " + "You glare at her."`>> <<set $soniaClose to $soniaClose - 2, $ch2BlameSam1 to "no">> <<goto Chap2Scene34SonA>> <</link>>

"I knew you wouldn't want me to do it, honestly!" You defend yourself. "I just ... don't know what I was thinking." Aunt Sonia's expression softens at that, and she leans forward to get your attention. "Hey," she starts, "I'm glad you knew I wouldn't want you doing something like this, kid." She breathes softly. "I just wish you'd translate that into not //doing// it next time, you understand?" You nod mutely. "Am I in trouble?" You ask after a moment. She crosses her arms, leaning back against the plush cushion of her sofa. "You've proved you're at the very least remorseful, $firstname. That makes your situation better." You smile, before she continues, "A little." Your smile falters. "Once your Uncle Callen's back we'll figure out something for you to do as recompense. You ever sharpened a dagger?" She asks nonchalantly. "No?" You ask, shaking your head hurriedly to strengthen your words. "Well," she stands, motioning for you to join her, "it's a perfect time to learn. With me, you little troublemaker." [[You need to know something about Sam, first. "Are you going to tell Sam's father about what we did?"|Chap2Scene35SonSamAsk]] [[Go without question. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile - 3]] [[Complain about the chore, but follow. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile + 3]]

"Why aren't you getting mad at Sam?!" You protest. "He convinced me to do it in the first place!" You pout, anger blooming like an ugly inkblot in your mind. Why did he have to get you in trouble like this? "First, we don't place blame on others for our mistakes, $firstname." Aunt Sonia sternly corrects. "He might've planted the idea, but you //both// came here. You aren't blameless, nobody is." "You should be talking to //him//." You mutter. "Oh, I will, kid. We're goin' over there later tonight to welcome the new neighbours, so I'll be speaking to the boy's father. I reckon he thought it was okay, being from a surface town that's smaller, but places like these are //busy//. You could have been hurt, both of you. I need him to understand that just as much as you." She says quietly. "Believe it or not, I don't hate children, kid." She smirks. You nod mutely. "Am I in trouble?" You ask after a moment. She crosses her arms, leaning back against the plush cushion of her sofa. "You at least understand that it was wrong, $firstname. That makes your situation better." You smile, before she continues, "A little." Your smile falters. "Once your Uncle Callen's back we'll figure out something for you to do as recompense. You ever sharpened a dagger?" She asks nonchalantly. "No?" You ask, shaking your head hurriedly to strengthen your words. "Well," she stands, motioning for you to join her, "it's a perfect time to learn. With me, you little troublemaker." [[Go without question. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile - 3]] [[Complain about the chore, but follow. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile + 3]]

"I didn't want to do it in the first place. It was scary." You mutter, looking down at the floor sheepishly. "Sam convinced me." Aunt Sonia's expression softens at that, and she leans forward to get your attention. "Hey," she starts, "I'm proud of you for doing something even when you were scared, kid." She breathes softly. "I just wish it hadn't been //this// particular thing, you understand?" You nod mutely. "Am I in trouble?" You ask after a moment. She crosses her arms, leaning back against the plush cushion of her sofa. "You've proved you're at the very least remorseful, $firstname. That makes your situation better." You smile, before she continues, "A little." Your smile falters. "Once your Uncle Callen's back we'll figure out something for you to do as recompense. You ever sharpened a dagger?" She asks nonchalantly. "No?" You ask, shaking your head hurriedly to strengthen your words. "Well," she stands, motioning for you to join her, "it's a perfect time to learn. With me, you little troublemaker." [[You need to know something about Sam, first. "Are you going to tell Sam's father about what we did?"|Chap2Scene35SonSamAsk]] [[Go without question. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile - 3]] [[Complain about the chore, but follow. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile + 3]]

"I don't know what I was thinking.." You mutter morosely. Aunt Sonia's expression softens at that, and she leans forward to get your attention. "Hey," she starts, "I'm glad you understand it was a wrong thing to do. You were brave to do it, kid. It's a big thing to do." She breathes softly. "I just wish it hadn't been //this// particular thing, you understand?" You nod mutely. "Am I in trouble?" You ask after a moment. She crosses her arms, leaning back against the plush cushion of her sofa. "You've proved you're at the very least remorseful, $firstname. That makes your situation better." You smile, before she continues, "A little." Your smile falters. "Once your Uncle Callen's back we'll figure out something for you to do as recompense. You ever sharpened a dagger?" She asks nonchalantly. "No?" You ask, shaking your head hurriedly to strengthen your words. "Well," she stands, motioning for you to join her, "it's a perfect time to learn. With me, you little troublemaker." [[You need to know something about Sam, first. "Are you going to tell Sam's father about what we did?"|Chap2Scene35SonSamAsk]] [[Go without question. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile - 3]] [[Complain about the chore, but follow. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile + 3]]

"You would've been mad about something else even if I //had// listened." You snap, glaring at her. "Ha!" She chuckles, leaning back and crossing her arms as she lifts an eyebrow. "Kid, this isn't mad, this is worried. You might not like how I do things, but it's all to keep //your//," she points a finger at you, "head on. That needs collaboration, $firstname. You seem to want to make your head real damn heavy, so I need some help from you to keep it on." You stare back at her, not willing to budge. She continues, "You can be angry at me, think I'm being unfair, whatever. I'll sleep easier knowing you're not going to run around on your own, or with some idiot kid from next door. You're better than that, I know it and you do." She says, sternly staring back at you. You nod mutely. "Am I in trouble?" You ask after a moment. She crosses her arms, leaning back against the plush cushion of her sofa. "It looks like you need a lesson in discipline, $firstname. You're not in trouble, not this time. But you're not getting out of this without a lesson, either." "Like what?" You ask glumly. "Once your Uncle Callen's back we'll figure out something for you to do as recompense. You ever sharpened a dagger?" She asks nonchalantly. "No?" You ask, shaking your head hurriedly to strengthen your words. "Well," she stands, motioning for you to join her, "it's a perfect time to learn. With me, you little troublemaker." [[You need to know something about Sam, first. "Are you going to tell Sam's father about what we did?"|Chap2Scene35SonSamAsk]] [[Go without question. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile - 3]] [[Complain about the chore, but follow. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile + 3]]

"I didn't want to do it in the first place. It was scary." You mutter, looking down at the floor sheepishly. "Sam convinced me." "I'll be talkin' to his da, tonight. We'll be visitin', $callenChild. I want y'to know I'm not mad at either of you, though. I just want ye to understand that what y'did was wrong, $firstname." He says quietly. "Do you understand that? I would've been worried if y'weren't there. What if ye came home one day, an' I just wasn't there? Would you not be worried?" <<if $callenClose < 40>>You shrug. "Dunno..."<<else>>You nod slightly. "Yeah..."<</if>> He sighs again. "These lessons aren't just to be overbearin', $callenChild. Now, c'mon. I reckon we'd best fix you a meal, an' get ready for tonight. We'll be visitin' next door." He smiles. "Why?" You ask curiously. "It's good etiquette to greet yer new neighbours, $callenChild. Though we've each got a headstart on yer Aunt Sonia, eh? I reckon she won't be too bothered, though." He chuckles. [[Next|Chap2Scene35Cal]]

"I knew you wouldn't want me to do it, honestly!" You defend yourself. "I just ... don't know what I was thinking." "Oh, $callenChild." He sighs. "I'm proud that y'knew I wouldn't like it, but that's only halfway to doin' the right thing." "I'm sorry..." You murmur. "I want ye to understand that what y'did was wrong, $firstname." He says quietly. "Do you understand that? I would've been worried if y'weren't there. What if ye came home one day, an' I just wasn't there? Would you not be worried?" <<if $callenClose < 40>>You shrug. "Dunno..."<<else>>You nod slightly. "Yeah..."<</if>> He sighs again. "These lessons aren't just to be overbearin', $callenChild. Now, c'mon. I reckon we'd best fix you a meal, an' get ready for tonight. We'll be visitin' next door." He smiles. "Why?" You ask curiously. "It's good etiquette to greet yer new neighbours, $callenChild. Though we've each got a headstart on yer Aunt Sonia, eh? I reckon she won't be too bothered though." He chuckles. [[Next|Chap2Scene35Cal]]

"I don't know what I was thinking.." You mutter morosely. "I'm glad ye understand it was a silly thing to try an' do, $callenChild, but that's only halfway to doin' the right thing." "I'm sorry..." You murmur. "I want ye to understand that what y'did was wrong, $firstname." He says quietly. "Do you understand that? I would've been worried if y'weren't there. What if ye came home one day, an' I just wasn't there? Would you not be worried?" <<if $callenClose < 40>>You shrug. "Dunno..."<<else>>You nod slightly. "Yeah..."<</if>> He sighs. "These lessons aren't just to be annoyin', $callenChild. Now, c'mon. I reckon we'd best fix you a meal, an' get ready for tonight. We'll be visitin' next door." He smiles. "Why?" You ask curiously. "It's good etiquette to greet yer new neighbours, $callenChild. Though we've each got a headstart on yer Aunt Sonia, eh? I reckon she won't be too bothered though." He chuckles. [[Next|Chap2Scene35Cal]]

"You should be talking to Sam," you mutter bitterly, "he's the one who wanted to do it in the first place." <<if $ch2BlameSam1 == "yesA">>You hadn't been a fan of the boy initially, and this is just cementing your view of him.<<elseif $ch2BlameSam1 == "yesB">>You might be on good terms with the boy, but this is doing him no favours in your mind. What a mess.<<else>><</if>> "Words'll be had, $callenChild. I want y'to know I'm not mad at either of you, though. I just want ye to understand that what y'did was wrong, $firstname." He says quietly. "Do you understand that? I would've been worried if y'weren't there. What if ye came home one day, an' I just wasn't there? Would you not be worried?" <<if $callenClose < 40>>You shrug. "Dunno..."<<else>>You nod slightly. "Yeah..."<</if>> He sighs again. "These lessons aren't just to be overbearin', $callenChild. Now, c'mon. I reckon we'd best fix you a meal, an' get ready for tonight. We'll be visitin' next door." He smiles. "Why?" You ask curiously. "It's good etiquette to greet yer new neighbours, $callenChild. Though we've each got a headstart on yer Aunt Sonia, eh? I reckon she won't be too bothered though." He chuckles. [[Next|Chap2Scene35Cal]]

"You're //not// funny." You glare at him unkindly. He makes a look of mock-hurt. "Of all the thing t'say, $callenChild. That hurts the most out of anythin'." "Hmph." You grunt, looking away from him. "I want ye to understand that what y'did was wrong, $firstname." He sighs quietly. "Do you understand that? I would've been worried if y'weren't there. What if ye came home one day, an' I just wasn't there? Would you not be worried?" <<if $callenClose < 40>>You shrug. "Dunno..."<<else>>You nod slightly. "Yeah..."<</if>> He sighs again. "These lessons aren't just to be overbearin', $callenChild. Now, c'mon. I reckon we'd best fix you a meal, an' get ready for tonight. We'll be visitin' next door." He smiles. "Why?" You ask curiously. "It's good etiquette to greet yer new neighbours, $callenChild. Though we've each got a headstart on yer Aunt Sonia, eh? I reckon she won't be too bothered though." He chuckles. [[Next|Chap2Scene35Cal]]

"I am." She confirms. "We're going over to his place later tonight to welcome him to the city, so I'm gonna have a word while I'm there." //That's// not like her. "Why?" You ask dubiously. "Figured we'd be welcoming neighbours, right? It's just a bonus that I get to complain about his kid. Little man needs to understand this place isn't like the town he's probably spent his whole childhood in on the surface." She winks. "Now, come on. We've got knives to sharpen." She beckons you upstairs. [[Go without question. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile - 3]] [[Complain about the chore, but follow. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene35Son][$volatile to $volatile + 3]]

For the next few hours, the tedious motion of scraping an oiled whetstone along the steel surface of each of Aunt Sonia's many knives becomes absurdly familiar. The monotonous activity gives you time to reflect on Sam, the boisterous lad already having made an impression on you. You're <<if $samRelationship >= 60>>already excited to see your new friend again later tonight<<if $samRomance == 1>>. It's odd how much you already miss him.<<else>>.<</if>><<elseif $samRelationship <= 50>>unsure on how you feel about seeing the boy later again tonight<<if $samRomance == 1>>, though strangely, you sort of miss him.<<else>>.<</if>><<elseif $samRomance <=45>>reluctant to see the boy again<<if $samRomance == 1>>, though strangely enough, you almost //miss// him. What's that about?<<else>>.<</if>><</if>> Aunt Sonia's careful not to let you get absentminded, though. It's dangerous to handle such sharp blades, she says, tapping the long scar running down the left side of her jaw as emphasis. "Though, this one wasn't me." She deadpans. As you're just finishing the last blade, the ''//sshhkktt//'' sound of the stone grinding the blade's edge into new sharpness is interrupted by the sound of a door opening downstairs. A set of heavy steps joins this sound. [[Then, a deep voice calls out from below. "I'm home!"|Chap2Scene37Son]]

In a rare event, Uncle Callen has you helping him cook--something you assume to be a form of recompense for your actions earlier. You help to chop vegetables, prepare meat and keep an eye on the food that's currently cooking, while Uncle Callen keeps a weary eye on you<<if $soniaClose > 60>>, but you assure him you'll be fine: you do this all the time with Aunt Sonia!<<else>>.<</if>> Once it's all done, you sit down for a filling afternoon meal with Uncle Callen, feeling slightly better about the whole situation with Sam, and <<if $samRelationship >= 60>>excited to see your new friend again later tonight<<if $samRomance == 1>>. You already miss him.<<else>>.<</if>><<elseif $samRelationship <= 50>>unsure on how you feel about seeing the boy later again tonight<<if $samRomance == 1>>, though strangely, you sort of miss him.<<else>>.<</if>><<elseif $samRomance <=45>>reluctant to see the boy again<<if $samRomance == 1>>, though strangely enough, you almost //miss// him. What's that about?<<else>>.<</if>><</if>> The sound of a key turning in the door draws both of your attentions. Uncle Callen looks past you at the door as it opens, revealing the intruder. [["You made food without me?" Aunt Sonia asks, disappointedly planting her hands on her hips.|Chap2Scene36Cal]]

She anticipates your rapid approach, bending at the knees and bracing herself for impact. You crash into her, wrapping eager arms around her neck and burying your face into her shoulder. She smells dusty and more than a little sweaty, but you don't mind. Aunt Sonia swings you round a little, making your limp legs swing to and fro, before crushing you in a hug that's decidedly more enthusiastic than the one she gave Uncle Callen--perhaps she likes being the bigger person in situations like this. "Missed you, kid." She murmurs in your ear, before letting go of you abruptly. You hang on to her neck for a moment before your arms get tired and you drop, landing on your feet. She peers down at you and affectionately nudges your shoulder with her fist. She bends down, reaching into her pack that she'd dropped when coming in. When she sees you're curiously peering at what she's doing, she winks and pulls out a silk-wrapped package. "For you." She says, handing the small thing over to you. It's a box, wrapped in deep crimson fabric. <<link `"You take it and hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Cala>> <</link>> <<link `"You take it and carefully unwrap the gift, setting the pristine silk off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Calb>> <</link>>

Uncle Callen gets out of his chair, the motion of pushing it back causing the legs to screech on the floor. "Ye're back, lass!" He says jovially, heading over to give her a warm hug. "What're you //wearin//'?" He chuckles, looking down at her. Rather than her 'signature' style featuring her heavy doublet and a shirt, she's clothed in a drab brown tunic atop a kirtle that just reaches her ankles, with her badge the only signifier of her Master status--the cloak must be packed away somewhere. Her red bandana covers her hair, and she carries a pack on her back which she shrugs off when Callen approaches, dropping it to the floor with a heavy thud. She accepts his hug with a resigned smile, patting his back before shrugging him off. "Oh, this?" She gestures down, tugging at the kirtle like a parasite latched on to her. "We ran into a flock of Carrion-Hawks and most of my gear got ripped up, //including// my trousers. A local inn owner was courteous enough to give me one of her //dresses//." She grumbles. "She'd thought I was Master Acro's servant girl, apparently." Uncle Callen tries to hide a snort. "Well, he's got that commandin' aura, lass. I'm sure ye //corrected// her?" She nods, smirking. "After she gave me the dress, of course. Might not be my thing, but I like not having cold legs." Her attention turns to you when you stand up. Aunt Sonia nods, "Hey, kid." <<link `"🦅+ Run into her arms. It's difficult to say exactly //how// much you missed her, so this will have to do."`>> <<set $soniaClose to $soniaClose + 6>> <<goto Chap2Scene37Cal1>> <</link>> [[🦅+ "I missed you!" You run up and greet her. She understands you aren't so fond of hugs.|Chap2Scene37Cal2][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 6]] [[🦅= Wave from where you stand.|Chap2Scene37Cal3]] [[🦅- Eye her warily, but say hello politely.|Chap2Scene37Cal4][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 4]] [[🦅-- Glower at her unkindly. Why is she home already?|Chap2Scene37Cal5][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 7]]

You beam warmly at her, and she smiles right back. "Missed you too, $firstname. Didn't burn the house down while I was gone, huh?" "We both know //that// would be t'other way round, lass." Uncle Callen chuckles, off to the side. Aunt Sonia harrumphs at him, turning around and bending down to reach into her pack. When she sees you're curiously peering at what she's doing, she winks and pulls out a silk-wrapped package. "For you." She says, handing the small thing over to you. It's a box, wrapped in deep crimson fabric. <<link `"You take it and hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Cala>> <</link>> <<link `"You take it and carefully unwrap the gift, setting the pristine silk off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Calb>> <</link>>

You wave from where you are, and she raises her eyebrows, putting her hands on her hips moodily. "Come here, you little whelp. See what I've got." That piques your attention, and she bends down to reach into her pack. Once you're close, she winks and pulls out a silk-wrapped package. "For you." She says, handing the small thing over to you. It's a box, wrapped in deep crimson fabric. <<link `"You take it and hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Cala>> <</link>> <<link `"You take it and carefully unwrap the gift, setting the pristine silk off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Calb>> <</link>>

You shoot her a short glance but offer a clipped greeting, at the very least. "Hello, Aunt Sonia..." "Afternoon, $firstname." She greets you with a similar formality. "Come here, I got you something." She winks. That piques your interest. Regardless of your thoughts on Aunt Sonia, a gift will never be unwelcome. You approach gingerly, snatching a silk-wrapped parcel from her when she offers it. <<link `"You hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Cala>> <</link>> <<link `"You carefully unwrap the gift, setting the pristine silk off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Calb>> <</link>>

You practically tear the silk wrapping off the package, as much as you can realistically tear silk. Uncle Callen laughs at your eagerness, and once you finally get the packaging off you open the fancy wooden box inside, revealing... [[A set of pencils for sketching.|Chap2Scene39Cala][$chap2Gift to "pencils"]] [[A shiny silver locket, with something special hidden inside..|Chap2Scene39Calb][$chap2Gift to "locket"]] [[A wooden imitation dagger, delicately carved.|Chap2Scene39Calc][$chap2Gift to "dagger"]]

You patiently unravel the silk wrapping, uncovering the fancy wooden box inside. Uncle Callen praises your patience. You open the box, revealing... [[A set of pencils for sketching.|Chap2Scene39Cala][$chap2Gift to "pencils"]] [[A shiny silver locket, with something special hidden inside..|Chap2Scene39Calb][$chap2Gift to "locket"]] [[A wooden imitation dagger, delicately carved.|Chap2Scene39Calc][$chap2Gift to "dagger"]]

<<set $chap2Singing to "no">>The box is filled with an assortment of pencils of different sizes, the graphite tools are encased in sturdy wood and laid carefully within. They look like they'd be excellent for drawing with. A small collection of crisp white paper is clipped to the underside of the lid, as well, giving you a handy little place to store it for sketches. <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$drawingSkill" autoselect>> <<option "She must have remembered you mentioning wanting to get better at drawing before she left." "1">> <<option "You're glad she remembered that you needed a new set of pencils. You're quite the avid little artist." "2">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$drawingSkill" autoselect>> <<option "She must have remembered you mentioning wanting to get better at drawing before she left." "1">> <<option "You're glad she remembered that you needed a new set of pencils. You're quite the avid little artist." "2">><</listbox>><</if>> "You remembered!" You cheer, looking appreciatively up at her. "I'm not as dumb as I look, kid." She smirks. "You like them?" [["Of course I do!" You beam, appraising the pencils. "There's so many."|Chap2Scene40Cala]] [["Nope, they stink!" You joke, sticking out your tongue. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene40Cala][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 5]] [["I'm gonna draw so much..." You giggle quietly.|Chap2Scene40Cala1]]

<<set $drawingSkill = 0>><<set $chap2Singing to "no">>You lift the dagger out of its plush enclosure with a dainty grip on the pommel and tip of the blade in each hand. It's shiny and smooth, with a shiny varnish and intricate carvings across the surface. Of course, it's not at all sharp--it //is// just a prop, but it's got a surprising weight to it. "I figured you could practice tricks with it." Aunt Sonia explains. "Give it a try?" You nod, and try to twirl it around in your fingers like she often does. //Finesse...// <<if $finesse >= 1>>//Success.// The motion is somewhat clumsy, but you manage to flip the wooden dagger around in your fingers, spinning it a few times before gripping it by the hilt. Uncle Callen does a little clap, and Aunt Sonia looks proud. "Nice job, $firstname. Take care of it til' we get you a //real// one." She grins, all teeth. "Not for a long, long time, $callenChild." Uncle Callen interjects--somewhat to your dismay.<<else>>//Failure.// You attempt to twirl it once in your fingers, but you fumble the unfamiliar object, its weight and smoothness making the motion difficult. It drops from your hands but you're able to snatch it out of the air before it hits the ground, looking sheepishly at Aunt Sonia. "Keep practicing, kid. That's all it'll take." She ruffles your hair. <</if>>"So," Aunt Sonia asks, "you like it?" [["Of course I do!" You beam, appraising the dagger. "It's beautiful."|Chap2Scene40Calc]] [["Nope, it stinks!" You joke, sticking out your tongue. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene40Calc][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 5]] [["It's beautiful, thank you." You say shyly, glancing up at her.|Chap2Scene40Calc]]

Uncle Callen pipes in. "Ye'll be carryin' us with you, whenever you wear it." Aunt Sonia nods along with him, ruffling your hair as she stands. "Anythin' for me, lass?" He asks with a not small amount of genuine hope in his voice. "For later." She says simply, ending the discussion there. "For now, I got you //that// partly so you wouldn't laugh at //this//." Without warning, she reaches up and unties her bandana, whipping the red cloth away from her haid, revealing the hair beneath. Her ashy blonde hair's been cut short, excessively so--even before, Aunt Sonia didn't wear her hair as long as other ladies and women you've seen throughout Sola, usually keeping it just as long as her chin, but this has to be at least a third the length of what it usually is. It's not even long enough to style, just sticking out and settling in random places atop her head. The style reminds you of that haphazard style young children wear when their parents aren't exactly too concerned with how their child's hair looks, only that it is manageable. Aunt Sonia's face reddens as Uncle Callen gasps in amused shock at the sight, gingerly running his fingers through the short strands to test their length until she snatches at his wrist, pushing him off aggressively. He hisses in shock as he pulls his hand away. "That's an odd style change, Sonia." He says, earning a glare from her. [["What happened?" You wonder. She wouldn't do this on purpose.|Chap2Scene41Cala]] [["You look like a boy." You giggle.|Chap2Scene41Calb]]

"Carrion-Hawks, kid. Let's all sit and I'll tell you about it." The three of you sit on your respective seats in the living room, forgetting your meals at the table in lieu of conversation with Aunt Sonia. "You know," she begins, propping one leg on top of the other as she sits in her rocking chair--a motion hindered by her unfamiliar dress, "the last time I had hair this short, I disguised myself as a boy to win some fighting money when I was little. They wouldn't let the girls join in, thought it'd sully 'Gelor's good name' or something, so I took drastic measures." Uncle Callen raises an eyebrow. "You did?" She nods, grimacing. "I didn't often win, but I made enough to eat." She chuckles, a wistful look in her eyes. "Mind you, I had hair that went to my shoulders back then, so when I cut it as short as it is //now//, you can imagine Anna's reaction." She and Uncle Callen share a chuckle. "Who's Anna?" You wonder aloud. You've never heard that name. Aunt Sonia looks stricken for a second, looking at you as if she'd forgotten you were there. She's silent, then responds, "Anna is--was, my sister's name." She smiles shakily. "Was?" Your eyebrows shoot up. "She ain't around anymore, $callenChild." Uncle Callen pats your shoulder. "Oh ... sorry." You mutter, and Aunt Sonia shakes her head. "Don't you worry about it, kid. My fault for reminiscing like an //old man//." She nods at Uncle Callen, who huffs and haughtily looks away, thinking of a rebuttal. [["So, lass. Care to finally tell us why ye look like a pageboy these days?" He bites back.|Chap2Scene42Cal]]

Uncle Callen chuckles at your words while Aunt Sonia pouts sulkishly. "I looked like a girl before?" She deadpans. "Hair doesn't make you anything, kid." "Ha!" Uncle Callen laughs, "It's quite the turn-around, lass, but no less confusin'. Y'were wearin' shirts and pants with longer hair, an' now ye're wearin' a dress with short hair." "And I like neither of them." She groans, tugging at the skirt of her kirtle. "I'm just a lady of contradictions, aren't I?" She says huffingly. The three of you sit on your respective seats in the living room, forgetting your meals at the table in lieu of conversation with Aunt Sonia. "You know," she begins, propping one leg on top of the other as she sits in her rocking chair--a motion hindered by her unfamiliar dress, "I once disguised myself as a boy to win some fighting money when I was little. They wouldn't let the girls join in, thought it'd sully 'Gelor's good name' or something, so I took drastic measures." Uncle Callen raises an eyebrow. "You did?" She nods, grimacing. "I didn't often win, but I made enough to eat." She chuckles, a wistful look in her eyes. "Mind you, I had hair that went to my shoulders back then, so when I cut it as short as it is //now//, you can imagine Anna's reaction." She and Uncle Callen share a chuckle. "Who's Anna?" You wonder aloud. You've never heard that name. Aunt Sonia looks stricken for a second, looking at you as if she'd forgotten you were there. She's silent, then responds, "Anna is--was, my sister's name." She smiles shakily. "Was?" Your eyebrows shoot up. "She ain't around anymore, $callenChild." Uncle Callen pats your shoulder. "Oh ... sorry." You mutter, and Aunt Sonia shakes her head. "Don't you worry about it, kid. My fault for reminiscing like an //old man//." She nods at Uncle Callen, who huffs and haughtily looks away, thinking of a rebuttal. [["So, lass. Care to tll us why ye look like a pageboy these days?" He bites back.|Chap2Scene42Cal]]

<<set $soniahair to "short">><<set $callenhead to "0">>"Prick." she mutters, before starting. "Time for some quick trivia, kid." She addresses you, leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs and her chin resting on a balled-up fist. "What do you know about Carrion-Hawks?" //Intelligence...// <<if $intelligence == 1>>//Success.// Oh! They're a type of minor demon, quite plentiful and very fierce, with sharp claws and an unusual method of attack. "They're a minor demon that prefers hunting in groups." You begin. "What do they //look// like?" She asks, leaning back in her chair. "Oh. Like ... birds without feathers, I guess?" You've only seen illustrations of them and, while as accurate as possible, you assume there has to have been some beautification for the purposes of educating a child. "Hmph." Aunt Sonia grunts. "Try a cooked vulture that's alive and kicking. And //angry//. One thing about Carrion-Hawks is that they like swooping down from high up, using their razor-sharp claws to, well, rip at you."<<elseif $intelligence >= 2>>//Major Success.// You seem to light up in your seat, straightening your back and rattling off everything you know about them in one long sentence. "They have no feathers, bear batlike wings, they prefer rotten meat and attack by swooping, using their sharp tal--" You pause when Aunt Sonia holds a hand up to stop you. She looks a little shocked. "I didn't know that bit about rotten meat..." She murmurs hauntedly. "In any case, we were attacked by a flock of them. Vicious little things, aren't they, kid?"<<elseif $intelligence < 1>>//Failure.// Your mind comes up blank for whatever that is. "I don't know." "They're a minor demon, $callenChild. Looks like a featherless vulture, only ten times as nasty." Uncle Callen informs you a little about them. "Hmph." Aunt Sonia grunts. "Try a cooked vulture that's alive and kicking. And //angry//. One thing about Carrion-Hawks is that they like swooping down from high, using their razor-sharp claws to, well, rip at you." <</if>> You cringe. She was attacked by such creatures? Uncle Callen speaks up. "So that explains yer clothin'. Mind, if ye'd worn any amount of //armour//--" "Not important, Callen!" She sing-songs, covering her ears. "As for my //hair//, Carrion-Hawks earn their name partly for what they're covered in." <<if $intelligence < 1>>"Carrion?" You ask, tilting your head. "What does it mean?"<<else>>"Carrion means yucky stuff, right?" You ask, tilting your head.<</if>> "Guts, $callenChild." Uncle Callen blanches. "Guts an' blood." "Oh." You murmur. Aunt Sonia huffs in irritation. "Guts and blood all in my hair, $firstname. Couldn't wash it out, so I had to cut it out." She mournfully strokes the remnants of her ashen hair. "I paid the damn bloodbirds back for it, though." She adds proudly. [[Next|Chap2Scene43Cal]]

"Well, I'm glad ye had //fun//, lass." Uncle Callen jokes. "I hope ye're ready to debut that new look to our neighbours, though!" He says, a wicked grin forming that's visible even underneath his scruffy greying beard. Tanned from her adventuring as she is, Aunt Sonia somehow turns as pale as a sheet. "Beg pardon?" "Ahh, I think you heard, lass. Y'wouldn't have any wigs on hand, by any chance?" He asks, not caring to hide the short laughs interspersed with his words. She runs her hands over her face, sighing resignedly. "Do I have to go?" She asks petulantly, self-consciously scratching her short-clipped hair. [["Do I have to, as well?" You decide to ask while the topic's been brought up.|Chap2Scene44Cal]] [["Yes!" You laugh. "We all have to be nice and say hello to them." (Cold -)|Chap2Scene44Cal2][$cold to $cold - 3]]

You glare unwelcomingly at her, and she makes a silly face back at you. It's unexpected, so you're barely able to stifle the giggle that breaks out at seeing her eyes cross and her freckled nose scrunch up. You frown, your attempt at surliness broken by her sheer stupidity. "Stop sulking, kid, and come see what I've got you." She calls, reaching down into her pack. That piques your interest. Regardless of your thoughts on Aunt Sonia, a gift will never be unwelcome. You approach gingerly, snatching a silk-wrapped parcel from her when she offers it. <<link `"You hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Cala>> <</link>> <<link `"You carefully unwrap the gift, setting the pristine silk off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Calb>> <</link>>

"Anythin' for me, lass?" Uncle Callen asks with a not small amount of genuine hope in his voice. "For later." She says simply, ending the discussion there. "For now, I got you //that// partly so you wouldn't laugh at //this//." Without warning, she reaches up and unties her bandana, whipping the red cloth away from her haid, revealing the hair beneath. Her ashy blonde hair's been cut short, excessively so--even before, Aunt Sonia didn't wear her hair as long as other ladies and women you've seen throughout Sola, usually keeping it just as long as her chin, but this has to be at least a third the length of what it usually is. It's not even long enough to style, just sticking out and settling in random places atop her head. The style reminds you of that haphazard style young children wear when their parents aren't exactly too concerned with how their child's hair looks, only that it is manageable. Aunt Sonia's face reddens as Uncle Callen gasps in amused shock at the sight, gingerly running his fingers through the short strands to test their length until she snatches at his wrist, pushing him off aggressively. He hisses in shock as he pulls his hand away. "That's an odd style change, Sonia." He says, earning a glare from her. [["What happened?" You wonder. She wouldn't do this on purpose.|Chap2Scene41Cala]] [["You look like a boy." You giggle.|Chap2Scene41Calb]]

"Anythin' for me, lass?" Uncle Callen gets her attention, asking with a not small amount of genuine hope in his voice. "For later." She says simply, ending the discussion there. "For now, I got you //that// partly so you wouldn't laugh at //this//." Without warning, she reaches up and unties her bandana, whipping the red cloth away from her haid, revealing the hair beneath. Her ashy blonde hair's been cut short, excessively so--even before, Aunt Sonia didn't wear her hair as long as other ladies and women you've seen throughout Sola, usually keeping it just as long as her chin, but this has to be at least a third the length of what it usually is. It's not even long enough to style, just sticking out and settling in random places atop her head. The style reminds you of that haphazard style young children wear when their parents aren't exactly too concerned with how their child's hair looks, only that it is manageable. Aunt Sonia's face reddens as Uncle Callen gasps in amused shock at the sight, gingerly running his fingers through the short strands to test their length until she snatches at his wrist, pushing him off aggressively. He yelps in shock as he pulls his hand away. "That's an odd style change, Sonia." He says, earning a glare from her. [["What happened?" You wonder. She wouldn't do this on purpose.|Chap2Scene41Cala]] [["You look like a boy." You giggle.|Chap2Scene41Calb]]

"Not too fast, kid." She winks. "I don't know when I'll be in Calis again." "Anythin' for me, lass?" Uncle Callen gets her attention, asking with a not small amount of genuine hope in his voice. "For later." She says simply, ending the discussion there. "For now, I got you //that// partly so you wouldn't laugh at //this//." Without warning, she reaches up and unties her bandana, whipping the red cloth away from her haid, revealing the hair beneath. Her ashy blonde hair's been cut short, excessively so--even before, Aunt Sonia didn't wear her hair as long as other ladies and women you've seen throughout Sola, usually keeping it just as long as her chin, but this has to be at least a third the length of what it usually is. It's not even long enough to style, just sticking out and settling in random places atop her head. The style reminds you of that haphazard style young children wear when their parents aren't exactly too concerned with how their child's hair looks, only that it is manageable. Aunt Sonia's face reddens as Uncle Callen gasps in amused shock at the sight, gingerly running his fingers through the short strands to test their length until she snatches at his wrist, pushing him off aggressively. He hisses in shock as he pulls his hand away. "That's an odd style change, Sonia." He says, earning a glare from her. [["What happened?" You wonder. She wouldn't do this on purpose.|Chap2Scene41Cala]] [["You look like a boy." You giggle.|Chap2Scene41Calb]]

Aunt Sonia raises an eyebrow, calling out, "That you, Cal?!" The voice from below booms again. "Who else'd it be, lass? I'm not exactly goin' to announce my arrival if I'm a burglar, am I?!" Her hands tighten around the knife she's sharpening and she gives you a tired, bemused look before she stands, depositing the knife on her desk which is littered with a dozen other small arms and items. Cleanliness isn't one of her strengths. "C'mon, kid. Let's face the music." She beckons you up, and the patter of your feet joins her heavy stomps on the creaky wooden stairs. There stands Uncle Callen, dressed in a drab beige tunic haphazardly tucked into his trousers, sleeves rolled up to reveal his hairy, tanned forearms. He wears a leather glove on his right hand--something he oft never takes off, courtesy of the strange tattoo on the back of his hand, the same one you've spotted on Aunt Sonia's forearm far less frequently--and a pair of rough, thick trousers. Travelling clothes. Curiously, his head is bandaged with a mostly-clean strip of white cloth, wrapped around his temples with a small reddish-brown spot on the side. His hair peeks up and around the bandage, looking windblown. Before she even gets to the bottom of the stairs, Aunt Sonia is quick to point it out. "The hell did you do to get that?" She questions. He deposits a heavy pack on the ground, grunting as he removes his boots and a wide-brimmed hat, which he hangs on the same hook all your coats go on. "I'll tell ya soon, lass. P'raps you can say //hello// to me, first?" He chuckles. Aunt Sonia greets him with a quick, reserved hug which he grins upon receiving. "Welcome back, Edros." "What'd I do to receive such kindness?" He asks, voice turned sickly-sweet. Aunt Sonia punches his shirt-covered arm lightly. "You're not dead, which is a boon. I can't pay for this place on my own." She grunts. "//D'awww//. If I was a smarter man, I'd say y'were turnin' soft on me!" Uncle Callen squeezes her shoulder, a motion that she sulkily shrugs off. He chuckles and turns to you, eyes twinkling. <<link `"🐺+ Run into his arms. It's difficult to say exactly //how// much you missed him, so this will have to do."`>> <<set $callenClose to $callenClose + 6>> <<goto Chap2Scene37Son1>> <</link>> [[🐺+ "I missed you!" You run up and greet him. He understands you aren't so fond of hugs.|Chap2Scene37Son2][$callenClose to $callenClose + 6]] [[🐺= Wave from where you stand.|Chap2Scene37Son3]] [[🐺- Eye him warily, but say hello politely.|Chap2Scene37Son4][$callenClose to $callenClose - 3]] [[🐺-- Glower at him unkindly. Why is he home already?|Chap2Scene37Son5][$callenClose to $callenClose - 7]]

You beam warmly at him, and his smile in response is even wider than yours. "I missed you too, $callenChild. More'n anythin'." He says. "I suppose I did as well, maybe." Aunt Sonia adds, putting on an airy, disinterested tone. Despite that, she winks at him. "I'm leavin' you out of my will now, Wierszy." Uncle Callen responds drily. "I was on it in the first place?" She sounds surprised. "Aye, I'd left my favourite boots to you, now I suppose they're gonna be goin' to the $callenChild instead." He smiles back at you. <<if $volatile > 55>>"I don't want your smelly boots!" You scrunch your face up<<if $sarcastic > 55>>, showing your utter distaste by pretending to vomit.<<else>>.<</if>><<else>>"No thanks!" You say quickly. They're not very ... clean.<</if>> "Ha!" Uncle Callen barks out a laugh, "Don't worry, they'll be burnt along with the rest o' me, $callenChild. Ye'll not be inheritin' any dirty boots." He claps your shoulder. "I've got somethin' better for ya today, instead." He says, bending down and reaching into his pack, pulling out a cloth-wrapped package which he holds out to you in his big, half-gloved hands. <<link `"You take it and hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1a>> <</link>> <<link `"You take it and carefully unwrap the gift, setting the sturdy cloth off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1b>> <</link>>

You wave from where you are, and he chuckles softly. "If ya stay over there, y'aren't gonna see what I've got ya." He winks, and that piques your interest, so you approach as he bends down and reaches into his pack. Once you're close, he pulls a cloth-wrapped package from the pack, which he holds out to you in his big, half-gloved hands. <<link `"You take it and hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1a>> <</link>> <<link `"You take it and carefully unwrap the gift, setting the sturdy cloth off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1b>> <</link>>

You shoot him a short glance but offer a clipped greeting, at the very least. "Hello, Uncle Callen..." "G'afternoon, $callenChild!" His tone is far more jovial than yours. "Are ya gonna stay over there an' miss out on what I got ya?" He wiggles his thick eyebrows and reaches into his pack on the floor. That piques your interest. Regardless of your thoughts on Uncle Callen, a gift will never be unwelcome. You approach gingerly, snatching a cloth-wrapped parcel from him when he offers it. The cloth is rough and thick in your fingers. <<link `"You hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1a>> <</link>> <<link `"You carefully unwrap the gift, setting the sturdy cloth off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1b>> <</link>>

You glare unwelcomingly at him, and he huffs and makes an expression of mock hurt. "Ye wound me, $callenChild. Y'gonna stay over there and pout at me? Ye'll miss out on //this//." He says, bending and reaching into his pack. That piques your interest. Regardless of your thoughts on Uncle Callen, a gift will never be unwelcome. You approach gingerly, snatching a cloth-wrapped parcel from him when he offers it. The cloth is rough and thick in your fingers. <<link `"You hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1a>> <</link>> <<link `"You carefully unwrap the gift, setting the sturdy cloth off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1b>> <</link>>

Uncle Callen grins at your rapid approach, bending slightly at the knees and dropping into a wrestling stance, burly arms held out in front of him ready to grab you. When you collide with him, he turns the momentum from your sprint into a rapid spin, clutching you close as he swings you around two, three times. You giggle feverishly while he spins you, burying your face into his shoulder when he stops. A loose thread from his shirt tickles your cheek, but you don't mind. "I take it y'missed me then, eh?" He chuckles from above you. You answer him with a hearty nod before he deposits you back on the ground, ruffling your $haircolour hair mischievously. "Nice to know someone did." He says with a wink at Aunt Sonia. "You're so old, I knew you'd come back eventually. You can't take care of yourself for too long." She huffs, rolling her eyes and leaning against the stairs. Uncle Callen just laughs, turning to you once more. "I got ya somethin', $callenChild." He says excitedly, stooping down and reaching into his pack on the floor. He pulls out a well-wrapped box, encased in sturdy cloth and gingerly holds it out to you in his big, half-gloved hands. <<link `"You take it and hurriedly unwrap the gift. You need to see what's inside //now//. (Patient - -)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient - 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1a>> <</link>> <<link `"You take it and carefully unwrap the gift, setting the sturdy cloth off to the side. (Patient ++)"`>> <<set $patient to $patient + 8>> <<goto Chap2Scene38Son1b>> <</link>>

You practically tear the cloth wrapping off the package, as much as you can realistically tear cloth. Uncle Callen laughs at your eagerness, and once you finally get the packaging off you open the sturdy wooden box inside, revealing... [[A set of pencils for sketching.|Chap2Scene39Sona][$chap2Gift to "pencils"]] [[A shiny silver locket, with something special hidden inside..|Chap2Scene39Sonb][$chap2Gift to "locket"]] [[A tiny music box that plays a dainty tune.|Chap2Scene39Sonc][$chap2Gift to "musicbox"]]

You patiently unravel the cloth wrapping, uncovering the sturdy wooden box inside. Uncle Callen praises your patience. You open the box, revealing... [[A set of pencils for sketching.|Chap2Scene39Sona][$chap2Gift to "pencils"]] [[A shiny silver locket, with something special hidden inside..|Chap2Scene39Sonb][$chap2Gift to "locket"]] [[A sturdy music box that plays a dainty tune.|Chap2Scene39Sonc][$chap2Gift to "musicbox"]]

<<set $chap2Singing to "no">>The box is filled with an assortment of pencils of different sizes, the graphite tools are encased in sturdy wood and laid carefully within. They look like they'd be excellent for drawing with. A small collection of crisp white paper is clipped to the underside of the lid, as well, giving you a handy little place to store it for sketches. <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$drawingSkill" autoselect>> <<option "He must have remembered you mentioning wanting to get better at drawing before he left." "1">> <<option "You're glad he remembered that you needed a new set of pencils. You're quite the avid little artist." "2">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$drawingSkill" autoselect>> <<option "He must have remembered you mentioning wanting to get better at drawing before he left." "1">> <<option "You're glad he remembered that you needed a new set of pencils. You're quite the avid little artist." "2">><</listbox>><</if>> "You remembered!" You cheer, looking appreciatively up at him. "Nothin' gets out of here', $callenChild." He chuckles, tapping his bandaged temple with a single gloved finger. You can practically feel Aunt Sonia resisting the urge to make a jab. "So what d'ya think?" [["I love them!" You beam, appraising the pencils. "There's so many."|Chap2Scene40Sona]] [["They stink!" You joke, sticking out your tongue. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene40Sona][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 5]] [["I'm gonna draw so much..." You giggle quietly.|Chap2Scene40Sona1]]

<<set $drawingSkill = 0>><<set $chap2Singing to "no">>You pull the gift out of its plush enclosure, letting it dangle from your fingers. The locket itself is attached to a strap of sturdy, dark leather that feels smooth but tough in your grip. You look up at Uncle Callen, whose grey eyes twinkle with excited apprehension. It just won't //budge//. <<if $volatile >= 60>>"I can't do it!" You moan, thrusting the annoying object out to him. He takes the locket with a chuckle, clasping his big hands around the thing and trying to open it. It seems, though, that he's just as unable to get it open as you are. His rough, calloused fingers can't find purchase on the small shiny thing and his fingernails can't get in the gap to open it. To his side, Aunt Sonia rolls her eyes, holding out a hand. "You're useless, Cal. Hand it over." He sheepishly drops the locket in her hand, smirking at you before easily prying the thing open and handing it back to you in order to look at what's inside.<<else>>"It won't budge..." You mutter, and he takes the locket with a chuckle, clasping his big hands around the thing and trying to open it. It seems, though, that he's just as unable to get it open as you are. His rough, calloused fingers can't find purchase on the small shiny thing and his fingernails can't get in the gap to open it. To his side, Aunt Sonia rolls her eyes, holding out a hand. "You're useless, Cal. Hand it over." He sheepishly drops the locket in Aunt Sonia's hand, who smirks at you before easily prying the thing open and handing it back to you in order to look at what's inside.<</if>> The outside of the locket is smooth and shiny, shaped like a flat, slightly convex circle. Inside are beautifully carved depictions of a wolf and a hawk on each side of the interior, respectively. These are Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen's personal sigils--it is a Bladeweaver tradition to choose an animal as your sigil upon graduating and attaining the rank of Adept, though some have chosen things like flowers or other such objects like family heraldry. "Y'can add yer own to the outside one day soon, eh?" Uncle Callen encourages you, pointing at the locket's front. "D'you like it?" He asks hopefully. "Mind, it'll be a bit big for ya now..." [["Of course I do!" You beam, peering at the locket. "It's beautiful."|Chap2Scene40Sonb]] [["Nope, it stinks!" You joke, sticking out your tongue. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene40Sonb][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 5]] [["It's beautiful, thank you." You say shyly, glancing up at her.|Chap2Scene40Sonb]]

<<set $drawingSkill = 0>><<set $chap2Singing to "no">>You hold the music box in your hands. gingerly turning it around to inspect it with a keen eye. "Open it up, $callenChild." Uncle Callen encourages you quietly, looking excited as if the gift were //his//. There's a little brass latch on the front of the box that you deftly lift away, prising the box's lid upwards as a small metallic whirring from inside begins. It must be magically powered to operate this way, you imagine. As a spritely, twinkling tune begins to play, you appraise the two--not one, as is usual--figures that are currently spinning atop the box's lower half. On the left spins a figure dressed in a simple robe of white and pale, almost pastel yellow. They look placid, strumming a miniaturized wooden lyre with their eyes closed--though they may just not be fully painted, given that the figure is quite small. Their hair floats around their head, curly and shimmering gold. You're reminded of Sam and his bright curls, <<if $samRelationship > 50>>and you chuckle at the resemblance.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50>>and you huff at the realisation.<<elseif $samRelationship > 50 and $samRomance ==1>>and you smile a little at the realisation, clenching your fingers tighter against the box without knowing.<</if>> To their right stands a hardy, imposing figure, a miniature head taller. She's clad in spiky bronze-painted armour and holds a standard bearing an all-black flag. Her helm takes the visage of a snarling hound, black-painted teeth bared around a concealed face while wild pale hair spills out from the back of it, painted a silvery-grey. You recognize these figures. On the left stands a popular depiction of Pacen, ancient God of Peace, and to their right is Belrom, Goddess of War. The two are often paired together in ancient legends, popularly seen as linked in a way due to their almost parallel appearances and nature. Worship of Belrom--at least in current times--is seen as unsavoury, though not heretical like worship of the Thirteenth, who is not recognized by any Empyrean church as a real God, is. Knowledge on their nature and deeds is so sparse that it's impossible to even know their gender or what they were the patron //of//, like Pacen is with peace and Belrom with war. The tune is also odd, playing a higher and a slightly different lower melody at the same time. The box must have //two// music players within, one playing a lighter tune and the other playing something lower, more moody. "Song of War 'n Peace, $callenChild." Uncle Callen whispers helpfully from above when he notices your face scrunched in thought. It's a popular tune, usually sung during festivals by a choir of children and adults alike to capture the high range of low to high notes, starting mournful and low before turning cheerful and bright towards the end of the song. <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$chap2Singing" autoselect>> <<option "You've participated in the choir before, and probably sung it once or twice, so it must have simply slipped your mind given that you're hearing it through an unfamiliar medium." "yes">> <<option "Maybe you'd have recognized it sooner if you'd been a singer." "no">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$chap2Singing" autoselect>> <<option "You've participated in the choir before, and probably sung it once or twice, so it must have simply slipped your mind given that you're hearing it through an unfamiliar medium." "yes">> <<option "Maybe you'd have recognized it sooner if you'd been a singer." "no">><</listbox>><</if>> "//That's// not a contradiction at all." Aunt Sonia says drily, though she looks appraisingly at the gift--particularly at the depiction of Belrom. "Pretty song, though." "War an' //then// Peace, lass." He chuckles, admonishing her. "That's the point o' the song. It starts off dire an' gets better towards the end." "Mm," she yawns, "I could go for some war right now, being cooped up here while you're off fighting doesn't seem fair..." She smirks, glancing at his bandaged head before the smile drops. "Though I wouldn't let //that// happen to me." She adds, pointing at it. "Har-har." Uncle Callen deadpans, turning back to you with a tiny roll of the eyes that only you catch. "So, $callenChild. D'ya like it?" He asks hopefully. [["Of course I do!" You beam, peering at the spinning figures. "It's beautiful."|Chap2Scene40Sonc]] [["Nope, it stinks!" You joke, sticking out your tongue. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene40Sonc][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 5]] [["It's beautiful, thank you." You say shyly, glancing up at him.|Chap2Scene40Sonc]]

"Did Master Edros deign to buy his former apprentice anything, I wonder?" Aunt Sonia sing-songs from behind him, hovering like a bee around a particularly interesting flower. "O' course I did, lass! But it'll wait til' later." He says simply, grinning when she presses for information. "It's one o' the books ya like, Sonia." He half-whispers, and her eyes widen. "Oh." She sputters in response, nodding quickly. "I suppose I'd best tell you two how I got this little ol' bugger, eh?" Uncle Callen points at the slightly stained bandage on his head. "Let's go an' sit." He says, walking over to the two plush, worn sofas in the living area. [[🦅+ You hurriedly take a seat next to Aunt Sonia, grinning up at her.|Chap2Scene41Sona][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]] [[🐺+ You hurriedly take a seat next to Uncle Callen, grinning up at him.|Chap2Scene41Sonb][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]] [[🦅🐺= You sit on a spot that's commonly referred to as 'yours', not that you'd mind being next to either of them.|Chap2scene4Sonc]] [[🦅🐺- You sit on a spot that's commonly referred to as 'yours'. Why would you want to sit next to either of them?|Chap2scene4Sonc][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 1, $callenClose to $callenClose - 1]] [[🦅+🐺- You sit next to Aunt Sonia, giving a pointed look to Uncle Callen as you do so.|Chap2scene4Sond][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $callenClose to $callenClose - 1]] [[🦅-🐺+ You sit next to Uncle Callen, giving a pointed look to Aunt Sonia as you do so.|Chap2scene4Sone][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 1, $callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]

Uncle Callen chuckles proudly. "I'll make sure to get y'some more when I'm in Calis again, eh?" "Did Master Edros deign to buy his former apprentice anything, I wonder?" Aunt Sonia sing-songs from behind him, hovering like a bee around a particularly interesting flower. "O' course I did, lass! But it'll wait til' later." He says simply, grinning when she presses for information. "It's one o' the books ya like, Sonia." He half-whispers, and her eyes widen. "Oh." She sputters in response, nodding quickly. "I suppose I'd best tell you two how I got this little ol' bugger, eh?" Uncle Callen points at the slightly stained bandage on his head. "Let's go an' sit." He says, walking over to the two plush, worn sofas in the living area. [[🦅+ You hurriedly take a seat next to Aunt Sonia, grinning up at her.|Chap2Scene41Sona][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]] [[🐺+ You hurriedly take a seat next to Uncle Callen, grinning up at him.|Chap2Scene41Sonb][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]] [[🦅🐺= You sit on a spot that's commonly referred to as 'yours', not that you'd mind being next to either of them.|Chap2scene4Sonc]] [[🦅🐺- You sit on a spot that's commonly referred to as 'yours'. Why would you want to sit next to either of them?|Chap2scene4Sonc][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 1, $callenClose to $callenClose - 1]] [[🦅+🐺- You sit next to Aunt Sonia, giving a pointed look to Uncle Callen as you do so.|Chap2scene4Sond][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $callenClose to $callenClose - 1]] [[🦅-🐺+ You sit next to Uncle Callen, giving a pointed look to Aunt Sonia as you do so.|Chap2scene4Sone][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 1, $callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]

She bumps you with her shoulder as you sidle up next to her. "Go on, then," Aunt Sonia begins impatiently, staring intently at the man's bandaged head wound, "how'd you manage to get that? Don't tell me you fell again." Uncle Callen looks offended. "I'll have y'know I'm of sound mind an' sure foot, //Miss Wierszy//. At least accordin' to the field medic." He scratches his bearded cheek idly. "Uh-huh, and is that before or after you got a head injury?" "It wasn't so bad, lass, a mere glancin' injury. Me brain's fine." He informs her, half-jokingly. You can tell she's at the very least shaken by his injury. "You'll forgive me for showing the slightest bit of concern, won't you?" She replies, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her seat haughtily. "I know how soft your head can be, is all." She adds with a whisper. Uncle Callen looks over to you. "She'd have everyone believe she's this hardened beast, but you an' me know the truth, eh? Big ol' softie, she is, I knew it." He chuckles, winking at you. [["Tell us what happened, already!" You yell, half-desperate. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene42Sona][$patient to $patient - 3]] [[You nod patiently, waiting for him to eventually tell you what happened. (Patient +)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$patient to $patient + 5]] [["Are you going to tell us or not?" You groan exasperatedly. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene42Sonc][$volatile to $volatile + 4]] [["Like a teddy bear." You agree with a giggle. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene42Sond][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[You're too focused on being worried about him to give any kind of response, and desperately wait for some kind of answer. (Sarcastic -)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$sarcastic to $sarcastic - 5]]

He nudges your swinging legs with his knee, smiling down at you. "Go on, then," Aunt Sonia begins impatiently, staring intently at the man's bandaged head wound, "how'd you manage to get that? Don't tell me you fell again." Uncle Callen looks offended. "I'll have y'know I'm of sound mind an' sure foot, //Miss Wierszy//. At least accordin' to the field medic." He scratches his bearded cheek idly. "Uh-huh, and is that before or after you got a head injury?" "It wasn't so bad, lass, a mere glancin' injury. Me brain's fine." He informs her, half-jokingly. You can tell she's at the very least shaken by his injury. "You'll forgive me for showing the slightest bit of concern, won't you?" She replies, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her seat haughtily. "I know how soft your head can be, is all." She adds with a whisper. Uncle Callen looks over to you. "She'd have everyone believe she's this hardened beast, but you an' me know the truth, eh? Big ol' softie, she is, I knew it." He chuckles, winking at you. [["Tell us what happened, already!" You yell, half-desperate. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene42Sona][$patient to $patient - 3]] [[You nod patiently, waiting for him to eventually tell you what happened. (Patient +)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$patient to $patient + 5]] [["Are you going to tell us or not?" You groan exasperatedly. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene42Sonc][$volatile to $volatile + 4]] [["Like a teddy bear." You agree with a giggle. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene42Sond][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[You're too focused on being worried about him to give any kind of response, and desperately wait for some kind of answer. (Sarcastic -)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$sarcastic to $sarcastic - 5]]

The two share an amused glance at you plopping yourself down in your usual spot. "Go on, then," Aunt Sonia begins impatiently, staring intently at the man's bandaged head wound, "how'd you manage to get that? Don't tell me you fell again." Uncle Callen looks offended. "I'll have y'know I'm of sound mind an' sure foot, //Miss Wierszy//. At least accordin' to the field medic." He scratches his bearded cheek idly. "Uh-huh, and is that before or after you got a head injury?" "It wasn't so bad, lass, a mere glancin' injury. Me brain's fine." He informs her, half-jokingly. You can tell she's at the very least shaken by his injury. "You'll forgive me for showing the slightest bit of concern, won't you?" She replies, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her seat haughtily. "I know how soft your head can be, is all." She adds with a whisper. Uncle Callen looks over to you. "She'd have everyone believe she's this hardened beast, but you an' me know the truth, eh? Big ol' softie, she is, I knew it." He chuckles, winking at you. [["Tell us what happened, already!" You yell, half-desperate. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene42Sona][$patient to $patient - 3]] [[You nod patiently, waiting for him to eventually tell you what happened. (Patient +)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$patient to $patient + 5]] [["Are you going to tell us or not?" You groan exasperatedly. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene42Sonc][$volatile to $volatile + 4]] [["Like a teddy bear." You agree with a giggle. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene42Sond][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[You're too focused on being worried about him to give any kind of response, and desperately wait for some kind of answer. (Sarcastic -)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$sarcastic to $sarcastic - 5]]

He nudges your swinging feet with his knee, smiling down at you. "Go on, then," Aunt Sonia begins impatiently, staring intently at the man's bandaged head wound, "how'd you manage to get that? Don't tell me you fell again." Uncle Callen looks offended. "I'll have y'know I'm of sound mind an' sure foot, //Miss Wierszy//. At least accordin' to the field medic." He scratches his bearded cheek idly. "Uh-huh, and is that before or after you got a head injury?" "It wasn't so bad, lass, a mere glancin' injury. Me brain's fine." He informs her, half-jokingly. You can tell she's at the very least shaken by his injury. "You'll forgive me for showing the slightest bit of concern, won't you?" She replies, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her seat haughtily. "I know how soft your head can be, is all." She adds with a whisper. Uncle Callen looks over to you. "She'd have everyone believe she's this hardened beast, but you an' me know the truth, eh? Big ol' softie, she is, I knew it." He chuckles, winking at you. [["Tell us what happened, already!" You yell, half-desperate. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene42Sona][$patient to $patient - 3]] [[You nod patiently, waiting for him to eventually tell you what happened. (Patient +)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$patient to $patient + 5]] [["Are you going to tell us or not?" You groan exasperatedly. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene42Sonc][$volatile to $volatile + 4]] [["Like a teddy bear." You agree with a giggle. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene42Sond][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[You're too focused on being worried about him to give any kind of response, and desperately wait for some kind of answer. (Sarcastic -)|Chap2Scene42Sonb][$sarcastic to $sarcastic - 5]]

"Whoa!" Uncle Callen exclaims in surprise at your outburst, grey eyes jovial and wide in surprise. "I see ye've been teachin' the $callenChild your ways while I've been absent." He chuckles to Aunt Sonia, who shrugs. "It's a valid reaction to your waffling, Cal." She leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Now tell us, before I show you my ways." "Message received, lass." He responds quietly with a mock-salute. [["It all started when I ran into a Pidra den." He begins.|Chap2Scene43Son]]

Uncle Callen laughs at your outburst. "No appreciation for humour in this house, from either of ya." He shakes his head mournfully. "Where'd I go wrong?" "I might be persuaded to laugh at your pub-tier jokes if you'd actually //tell// me what happened, Cal." Aunt Sonia half-growls, leaning forward in her seat. You try to imitate her, opting for intimidation to get what you want from him. "Message received, lass." He responds quietly with a mock-salute. [["It all started when I ran into a Pidra den." He begins.|Chap2Scene43Son]]

Aunt Sonia leans forward in her seat, eyes narrowed dangerously. "The kid might have some semblance of patience for your antics, Cal, but I'm just about done. Spill the details or you'll end up with another bump on your head." She huffs impatiently. "Message received, lass." He responds quietly with a mock-salute. [["It all started when I ran into a Pidra den." He begins.|Chap2Scene43Son]]

Aunt Sonia doesn't look impressed. "Bears don't have much patience, you two. Best start talking before I start a rampage." She leans forward with narrowed eyes, locked on to Uncle Callen. "Message received, lass." He responds quietly with a mock-salute. [["It all started when I ran into a Pidra den." He begins.|Chap2Scene43Son]]

<<set $soniahair to "long">><<set $callenhead to "1">>"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Aunt Sonia mutters under her breath, starting in her seat once she remembers you're <<if $chap2Seat == "sonia">>right next to her.<<else>>within earshot of her foul mouth.<</if>> "You didn't hear that." She whispers quickly. "Aye, I'll pretend I didn't, either." Uncle Callen rumbles, unimpressed. //Intelligence...//<<if $intelligence < 1>> //Failure.// "What's a Pidra?" You ask, mind coming up completely empty for any reference to the creature. Your education on demons and their classifications hasn't begun in earnest yet, but judging by Aunt Sonia's reaction to the name, they must be dangerous indeed. "I pray ya never see one in person, $callenChild." Uncle callen begins solemnly. "They're named after the old Telfrini word for stone, //pidranos//." He says, somewhat stumbling on his attempt at the old language, with its rolling r's and heavy enunciation, but you get the gist of it. Aunt Sonia continues for him. "They're the size of a bull, with none of the tasty parts inside. Their skin's hard as stone, like plate armour. Even Empyrean has a tough time chipping away at it." She says with a shiver, a look in her eyes that tells you she might have faced such beasts before.<<else>> //Success.// The name Pidra is familiar to you, oddly enough. You think you picked it up from a children's bestiary: a half-remembered image of a stony, imposing bull coming to mind. Your education on demons and their classifications hasn't begun in earnest yet, but you take an interest in the topic nonetheless. "Aren't Pidra like stone bulls?" You question, hoping your knowledge was correct. "That they are! Good $callenChild." Uncle Callen smiles proudly. "Y'know anythin' else about 'em?" You scrunch your face up in thought, thinking on if you know anything further about the creature. Like most minor demons, they aren't exactly //rare//, but you know so little about them owing to their under-representation in most texts. The most 'popular' minor demons are those that propagate in more populous areas, while Pidra opt to stay near and inside caves or other dark, rocky places where they can make a den. You shrug, shaking your head softly. Aunt Sonia jumps in to the conversation to provide extra information, fortunately. "That stone skin's all over their body, like plate armour. Combine that with a very angry, big beast and you've got something that even Empyrean has a tough time making an impact on." She says with a shiver, a look in her eyes that's full of well-placed wariness.<</if>> "All it takes is a little perseverance, $callenChild." Uncle Callen says with a wink. "Cursed things had us bouncin' around like a bunch of gameballs," He chuckles miserably, "and I managed to knock my helmet off an' fall on a stone 'midst the chaos." Aunt Sonia's eyebrows lift in concern. "Everyone else was alright?" She asks cautiously. He nods, thankfully. "Everyone else had the damned sense to check their armour was secured 'fore jumpin' in a dark, noisy cave." He folds his hands over his broad chest. "Aye, it taught me a lesson about checkin' me buckles..." Aunt Sonia snorts, poking him in the stomach as she stands. "You were gonna have to learn that sooner or later, old man. You're eating better down there, among demons and despair, than up here." She teases. Uncle Callen smacks her poking hand away gently as he stands, defending himself. "There's a lot o' me to keep goin', lass! What kind of warrior'd I be without me energy?!" "You're a man, Callen, not a blasted //engine//!" She cackles, "Now come on, there's stuff to get done, and we need to get ready for tonight." [[Uncle Callen tilts his head. "What's tonight?"|Chap2Scene44Son]]

"You might've seen that old Henri's house is occupied?" She says, the words half a question and half a statement. "Aye, a ... merchant's, is it?" Uncle Callen asks, apparently not particularly interested. "They sell anythin' fancy?" "Haven't the foggiest, Cal. They've been here for all of this afternoon. That's hardly enough time for me to go window-shopping." She deadpans. "Alright, alright." He replies, shaking his head amusedly, his argument soundly crushed. "So, what's tonight? Y'still haven't told me." He mocks her earlier impatience. <<if $patient < 45>>"They're having us over tonight!" You interrupt, having sat through this conversation for long enough. You don't dare let Aunt Sonia reply, in case she somehow manages to go off on another tangent like Uncle Callen. They're strangely similar in ways like that. "//Apparently// in Abria they welcome new neighbours by visiting the neighbours' houses." Aunt Sonia huffs.<<else>>"Well, he and his boy want us over tonight, because //apparently// in Abria they welcome new neighbours by visiting the neighbours' houses." She huffs.<</if>> "You'd know better'n me, lass." Uncle Callen shrugs, "This evenin'?" He hums. "That'll give us time to prepare, at least. An' give //us// the opportunity to make a pair of new friends, eh?" He says excitedly, wiggling his thick eyebrows up and down at you as he does a little jig with his booted feet, clomping on the stone floor like a horse's hooves. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>><<if $cold > 50>>"We're already friends, Uncle Callen." You snort. "I work even faster than you."<<elseif $cold < 50>> "It's a bit late for that!" You beam. "I already like him!"<</if>><<elseif $samRelationship <= 50>>You chew your lip uncertainly. Perhaps tonight will give you the opportunity to warm up to Sam.<<elseif $samRelationship <= 45>>Your face, previously interested in the conversation drops. Absolutely not.<</if>> Aunt Sonia butts in, "You're acting like I'm //allergic// to being nice, Cal." She crosses her arms stroppily. Uncle Callen affects a sympathetic tone. "Oh lass, it just comes harder t'you than others, is all!" He beams, half-laughing even as he says it. "I'm sure ye'll do fine<<if $cold > 50>>, as will the $callenChild. Ye've both got me to make things run smoothly!" He flexes his burly arms at that, making Aunt Sonia snort derisively as she pokes him hard in the arm, eliciting a surprised yelp from him and a giggle from you. "Teach you for showing off, old man!" She calls out as she heads up the stairs once more.<<else>>, with me an' the $callenChild there to make things run smoothly." He winks at you, flexing his burly arms. You try to imitate him, to less success. Aunt Sonia snorts derisively, pinching your arm and poking his as she shifts past you to head upstairs. "Teach the both of you for showing off!" She calls out as you rub your arm and Uncle Callen pouts like a scolded child.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene45]]

Uncle Callen chews his bottom lip in contemplation for a moment<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>, scratching the area his bandage covers on his head. "S'a bit itchy is all, $callenChild." He mutters, washing away any worries as to his health. Then, he plants his hands on his hips, standing as solid as a //particularly// old tree trunk. "Well," he begins, "we'd best get ourselves ready for a proper meetin' with our new neighbours. Let's get you lookin' like a stylish young $personFormal an' me lookin' less like a beggar, eh?"<<elseif $mentor == "Callen">>, scratching his head. He plants his hands on his hips, standing as solid as a //particularly// old tree trunk. "Well," he begins, "we'd best get ourselves ready for a proper meetin' with our new neighbours. Let's get you lookin' like a stylish young $personFormal an' me lookin' less like a beggar, eh?"<</if>> [[You nod. "Let's do it."|Chap2Scene46]]

<<if $samRelationship < 45>>What good would you do at a gathering, when you don't even particularly like Sam? "Yes, $callenChild, ye have to go. It's good to know the people who live around you, even if most of our other neighbours don't subscribe to that notion, high an' mighty Solans as they are. Friends're always good." He assures with a meaningful look. "That boy's //not// my friend." You cross your arms grumpily. "Acquaintances, then." He shrugs, not so interested in your pouting. "Either way, both of you are goin', daft hair or no." He says with a smug smile. Aunt Sonia blows a resigned puff of air from her mouth, turning and walking, mopish, up the stairs.<<elseif $samRelationship >= 46>>Your thoughts on Sam aside, it's been a long day. Do you really have to do something //else// to cap it off? "Yes, $callenChild, ye have to go. It's good to know the people who live around you, even if most of our other neighbours don't subscribe to that notion, high an' mighty Solans as they are. Friends're always good." He assures with a meaningful look. "I know that," you begin, "but, well ... it's been a long day." You try to explain. <<if $chap2SamMeet == "fell">>You haven't even //mentioned// the fact you fell into a stream earlier today. It'd be embarrassing if Sam brought that up, as he probably already has to his father, if his talkativeness with you, a near-complete stranger in the forest is anything to go off.<<elseif $chap2SamMeet == "punch">>You haven't even //mentioned// the fact you punched Sam in the face earlier today. It'd be embarrassing if Sam brought that up, as he probably already has to his father, if his talkativeness with you, a near-complete stranger in the forest is anything to go off.<<elseif $chap2SamMeet == "scream">>You haven't even mentioned the fact you were taken completely off guard by Sam today, screaming like a baby. It'd be embarrassing if Sam brought that up, as he probably already has to his father if his talkativeness with you, a near-complete stranger in the forest is anything to go off.<<else>>There was this morning's training and the entire trip to the forest, alongside the walk home with Sam. You're //tired//.<</if>> His eyes crease a little, and he smiles understandingly. He crouches down and pats your arm softly. "Ye've done well, today. I'm sure there'll be somewhere for ye to relax while we're there an' if not, I can always bring you back here early. That sound alright?" He asks softly, hopefully. You nod begrudgingly and he smiles wider. "Good $callenChild. More sense in yer head than this one." He chuckles, pointing at a grumpy Aunt sonia with his thumb. "And more hair on top of it!" He laughs loudly at his own joke. "You," Aunt Sonia musters as much venom in her tired voice as she can, "are not a funny man." She turns, stomping up the stairs with the ferocity of a dragon woken from its slumber. "Deeply unkind." She adds with a mutter, turning her head to address you both. "I'm getting ready to be //laughed// at. See you both soon." And then, she's gone.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene45]]

Uncle Callen pats your head proudly, ruffling your $hairtexture strands affectionately. "The $callenChild has it right, Sonia. Ye can regale them with tales of your heroics that led to your, //ahem//, improvised haircut, to soften the blow. I'm sure the young lad'll like that." He smiles at her encouragingly, but she groans again. "There's a kid, //too//?" She glares daggers at Uncle Callen, but relents. "Fine, //fine//. I'll play nice with them, but I hear one word about //this//," she gestures harshly to her choppily cut ashen hair, "and someone's going through a wall, kid or not." She stomps up the stairs grumpily, her boots stomping the aged hardwood like a herd of horses. You're glad Aunt Sonia's disdain for children doesn't extend to you<<if $samRelationship > 55>> but you hope she'll be kind to Sam, at the very least. He's lovely!<<elseif $samRelationship < 45>> and you secretly hope Sam isn't an exception to that. Maybe sticking close to her will be a good way to keep the boy out of your hair?<<elseif $samRelationship > 46 and $samRelationship < 54>>, though you're wary of how she might treat Sam, with her long day and the stress of having to go to this evening gathering as she is. Hopefully Uncle Callen will keep her calm.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene45]]

<<nobr>> <<set $currentChapter = -1>> <<set $cold = 50>> <<set $cautious = 50>> <<set $patient = 50>> <<set $honesty = 50>> <<set $volatile = 50>> <<set $introverted = 50>> <<set $optimistic = 50>> <<set $chivalrous = 50>> <<set $stubborn = 50>> <<set $sarcastic = 50>> <<set $intelligence = 0>> <<set $charisma = 0>> <<set $martial = 0>> <<set $strength = 0>> <<set $agility = 0>> <<set $finesse = 0>> <<set $instinct = 0>> <<set $guard = 0>> <<set $soniaClose = 50>> <<set $callenClose = 50>> <<set $eyecolour = "Unknown">> <<set $haircolour = "Unknown">> <<set $skintone = "Unknown">> <<set $hairtexture = "Unknown">> <</nobr>> <div id="centre-text"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/GOgVZtu.png"></div> You are a member of an elite guild of weaponmasters, named the Bladeweavers' Order. Famed and feared the world over, your branch of the Order calls one of twelve ancient floating cities, Sola, its home. Orphaned as an infant and mysteriously delivered to its doors in the dead of night, you are named a ward of the Order itself. //''<div id="centre-text">But what would you be if the Order were to fall?</div>''// When calamity strikes, you're left as shattered as the Order itself, battling a terrible voice that dwells deep within your psyche and searching for a purpose that you were never meant to have. Bladeweaver is a text-based grimdark fantasy interactive fiction game focusing on your customizable player character as they grow up and navigate their way through a crumbling world wreathed in esoteric magic, dark secrets and muddy morals, loosely inspired by the late medieval/early Renaissance periods. Master your chosen weapon, make friends (and perhaps more?) and enemies along the way as societies rise and fall, as alliances strengthen and collapse, and loyalties are strained to their breaking point. <<linkreplace "RECOMMENDED: View content warnings." t8n>>//Note: Bladeweaver will be strictly 18+ for depictions of, but not limited to; violence, detailed descriptions of blood/gore, strong language, possession, suicide/suicidal thoughts, mental issues, drug use, sexual violence/assault, kidnapping and abuse, including that of children. Topics including homophobia, genocide, racism and misogyny will also be depicted. I do not, in any way, seek to glorify or romanticise any sensitive topic portrayed. If anything on this list might distress you, please be advised before reading.//<</linkreplace>> //Bladeweaver takes place in a fictional world, with its own nations and history. Please consult the Codex for additional context and background information about the world. This is non-essential information, but can enrich your playthrough. The Codex will update information as you play, with new entries and details unlocking as time goes on.// [[Rise|IntroChoiceOption]]

An excerpt from //The Empyrean Scriptures of Phanol.// ''In the Age before Ages, The Twelve warred, ceaselessly and ruinously. Their toil eventually bore fruit to a Thirteenth, great and terrible, who sought an end to all that is and would be, and so The Twelve finally warred together as one. Thus, came The Rise. In the Age of Darkness that followed, a prophecy was divined. An Ascendant would one day rise, as would a Harbinger, born of blood... //[[O, Child of Blood...|NewPrologue]]''

Book I By <a href="https://bladeweaver-if.tumblr.com/">conr</a>

//23rd of Moro, AR 1482 (Late Winter) - Eight Hours Old// //Flari district, Sola// Hardly an unusual thing for Sola. Being a Risen City and, indeed, the highest of all of them, it finds itself assailed by icy winds year-round. Especially so come Winter-time. The city's ancient wards, cast to stave off the worst of the cold, tend to find themselves strained when night falls and the winds grow //that// much more frigid. Ironically, the so-called Sun's City often fails to live up to its namesake in terms of warmth, doubly so tonight. Nights like these render Sola a ghost town, with citizens huddling inside their too-small homes around too-small fires, in a too-small city floating half a league above anything else. //Why would anybody bleedin' ''choose'' to live here?// The courier wonders, plodding slowly and uncertainly through a particularly gusty backalley, red-tipped ears attacked by the howling din of a harsh gale forced through vacant, maze-like streets. The Flari district is not a friendly one--it's well regarded as one of the less ostentatious areas of the city--a dark place washed over with a golden veneer to appear as refined as the rest of Sola. One more ... friendly, to the sort of people that the courier often finds himself employed by. //Makes sense they'd do ''that'' here, then...// He's visited Sola perhaps once or twice in his life, and only for work, for travel to //any// of the eleven mainland Risen Cities is expensive, and staying for more than a day or two doubly so. A courier's wage is not a substantial one. Usually. This would certainly be his biggest payday by //far//. Likely enough that he wouldn't necessarily have to work for another year or two, were he smart with his spending. //Could settle down somewhere for a while. Somewhere warm. Definitely not somewhere as fuckin' cold as this.// Almost as if to punish him, the wind's howling picks up once more as the courier hunches his shoulders forward, shrinking into himself tightly for some semblance of heat while nearly forgetting the warm little bundle he carries. The tall man sniffles. //'Least it's empty. Nobody to see me. See ''us''.// The courier glances down at the unstirring bundle in his arms. An infant, not yet twelve hours born, wrapped tightly in a swaddling of warm furs. A small mercy. Little round $eyecolour eyes stare out at him, blinking slowly. //Must be cold,// the courier thinks, //poor thing. Better'n bein' back ''there'', though.// //[[Definitely better.|PrologueScene1.5]]

<<nobr>> <<if $agab == "male">> <<set $they to "he">> <<set $theyF to "He">> <<set $them to "him">> <<set $their to "his">> <<set $themCap to "HIM">> <<set $themInformal to "'im">> <<set $theirs to "his">> <<set $themself to "himself">> <<set $child to "boy">> <<set $callenChild to "lad">> <<set $callenChild2 to "laddie">> <<set $person to "man">> <<set $personFormal to "gentleman">> <<set $honorific to "m'lord">> <<set $honorific2 to "Lord">> <<set $parentChild to "son">><<elseif $agab == "female">> <<set $they to "she">> <<set $theyF to "She">> <<set $them to "her">> <<set $their to "her">> <<set $themCap to "HER">> <<set $themInformal to "'er">> <<set $theirs to "hers">> <<set $themself to "herself">> <<set $child to "girl">> <<set $callenChild to "lass">> <<set $callenChild2 to "lassie">> <<set $person to "woman">> <<set $personFormal to "lady">> <<set $honorific to "m'lady">> <<set $honorific2 to "Lady">> <<set $parentChild to "daughter">> <</if>> <</nobr>>The $child's eyes are wide open now and $they's whining uncomfortably, squirming around in what little space $their swaddling provides. //Ah, fuck. Must be cold or hungry, or something. Not good with kids. Do I shake it? Can't sing to $them, someone might hear.// The courier chuckles. //They'd sic the city watch on me more for me singin' voice than kidnappin' a little baby $child, I reckon.// The courier's thoughts drift back to the letter in his pocket. //Not for your, or anybody else's, eyes,// his client, a tall, gaunt man with sunken eyes and a reddish beard, surrounded by others like him, had said... //You are to take the $child, get $them out of Sola and to the address written on the letter.// "The fuck does some rich cunt in Calis want with a ''baby''?" He mutters, the tired rasp of his southern brogue completely foreign to these gilt-daubed streets. A good courier is not supposed to consider questions like this. Generally speaking, nosy couriers do not last very long. A good courier would keep going through these tall, dark streets of cobbled stone and aged marble. A good courier would go to the skylift station, wait for the winds to subside and catch the earliest ride out of Sola. A good courier would forget the fact that this ever happened, letting the memory pass. [[Like dust into wind.|PrologueScene2.5]]

A sharp, constant crackling sound is barely audible over the now frenzied caterwaul of the wind. Charred, blackened flakes of paper flutter down to the wet cobble, dissolving upon contact with the ground as they coalesce into a sort of dark, pulpy paste. //"You ''will'' be pursued, eventually. The city watch will catch wind of this, and seek a child. Do not let them find you,"// the tall man had told him, already partway through cleaning up his 'mess', after handing him the screaming baby who quieted soon enough once $they was in someone's arms once more. //"If the city watch finds $them, $they'll be lost to us for good, likely sent to one of the hundreds of orphanages on the surface. This ''cannot'' happen, do you understand?"// The courier had nodded then, readily taking the job for the monetary reward it promised, despite the danger. Now he walks cautiously, almost catlike, through the dark windy streets of Sola, pondering where to take the baby so that $they would be safe. Safe from the ones who want $them, and from the world below. //No amount of money's worth what I seen in that fuckin' letter. Good thing I burned it, too. They'd slaughter the both of us ... Got to get $them somewhere safe. City watch'll arrest me on the spot and likely send $them to the surface. S'a shitty life either way...// The courier's steps are halted as if walking into a wall of solid stone. The vicious, screeching winds do nothing to move him. A fluttering poster, likely several months old now, advertising a Bladeweavers' weapon exhibit is the object of his allure. A dramatized illustration of two warriors, clad in scarlet uniforms and crossing swords, makes up the bulk of the poster. Sparks fly from the point where their silvery green blades make contact--//Empyrean steel.// These can only be Bladeweavers, nowadays viewed as little more than an antiquity--celebrities hired by noblemen to impress or intimidate, wielding magical blades and ancient techniques. //All a bunch of kiffshite//, he'd once thought, //what good's a fancy little bit of swordplay gonna do if you's up against a gang who don't care about no honour or any of that shit? Greensteel be damned.// Yet now the idea is almost ... ''hopeful'' to him. //Weavers'll protect $themInformal, sure as rain's wet they will. Nobody'd dare try to take a little $callenChild from a bunch of nasty fuckin' blademasters. 'Specially if their home's in this damn place.// The courier rips the poster off the wall with his left hand, the now sleeping $child resting safely in the crook of his right arm, and returns to the pile of ashes under the torch he'd used to destroy the letter. He rests the poster on the stairs beneath a small stone to prevent it flying away in the wind. Dipping a shaky finger in the soggy mulch beneath the torch, he starts to write... [[Callen rushes to the doors.|PrologueScene4]]

//Bladeweavers' Citadel, Academy Wing// The loud, hurried rapping on the aged oak door, twice the height of even the tallest man he'd ever seen and far sturdier, has Callen Edros wondering just //what// could be so urgent at the dead of night for someone to nearly knock the damned thing down. //Better not be those feckin' shits from Skirton again. Sick of showin' up to scare 'em off,// he thinks to himself, striding down the familiar marbled halls towards the entrance of the Bladeweavers' Citadel. Callen adjusts his hood, prepared to step out into the biting wind, tucking a few loose strands of light brown hair that had fallen out of his messy bun back behind his ears. He sighs; a gruff, almost rasping sound, and resignedly performs the hand signal to undo the elaborate magical lock embedded within the door to the academy; a lock that Callen had initially objected to the installation of, only relenting once the Council had stepped in. He'd wondered what the point of being appointed Steward was when his decisions didn't have much sway. //No key t'lose, I suppose. Still a pisstake.// As soon as Callen performs the final flourish of the gesture, the hidden lock jolts open with a dull //thunk// and, almost immediately, the doors are thrown wide open by the vicious gale blowing in. Callen curses and shields his eyes from the biting cold, the hood that he'd so carefully arranged over his head fluttering uselessly behind him, loose strands of hair now multiplying by the second. Once a shrill howl, the wind now sounds almost melancholy as it echoes down the sparse hallway behind Callen, as if a choir were singing a song of mourning in some distant hall. Callen peers out into the dark plaza, looking for those who dared disturb his supper, but finds only shadow and wind. The plaza is empty. A soft whine from below draws his gaze downwards. On the rough marble lies a dark little bundle of furs and cloth, a piece of parchment tucked into one of its folds. Callen squats down with a laboured grunt--//fuckin' knees,// he thinks--and looks closer at the bundle. The dim torchlight from inside the academy's entrance catches a flash of $eyecolour. Callen gasps alarmedly and reaches for the bundle on the floor, picking it up quickly. Callen stares in shocked silence at the little $child, who now murmurs indignantly as if picking $them up from the cold, wet marble was somehow the //wrong// thing to do. "Where'd y'come from, little $callenChild?" Callen wonders, attention now focused on the poorly folded note wedged into a fold in the baby's plush swaddling. He deftly retrieves it with a single hand, cradling the $child in his free arm. Unfolding the note, Callen strains his eyes to read in the dim light. In streaky, dark letters, reads... <span class ="emphasis">PROTECT $themCap</span> [['"Oh, fuckin\' hell."' |PrologueScene5]]

Sonia Wierszy paces back and forth, a //clack, clack, clack// sound emanating from the hard surface of her boots making contact with the rough floor of Callen's study. Her stowed-away weapon bounces in its scabbard, hung from her hip. Her ashy hair is kept back with a hastily tied bandana, where it normally would fall to just below her chin, slightly wavy as if tousled by the wind. She looks tired, or hungover--perhaps both. She'd been confused, to say the least, when Callen sent a note across the Channel to their home. Callen is seated, baby cradled in his arm, expertly supporting $their head. A bottle in his arm, providing a slow drip of milk, is the focus of the now wide awake $child who suckles greedily at the proffered meal. His gloomy grey eyes are fixated on the infant, flicking to any sign of movement from the noisy little bundle. "I saw some shifty fuckers moving around, on the way here. Eyes like robin's eggs, all of them. Gods know why they thought going out in high winds was a clever idea, but they must've seen my steel, 'cause not one of them paid me any mind." Her muttering, an attempt to spark some conversation, is wholly ignored by the older man, who keeps his eyes locked on to the baby. "Tell it to me again, Callen." She demands, suddenly coming to a stop and crossing her arms, letting one tanned hand travel up to pinch the bridge of her freckled nose. Intense green eyes lock on to Callen, who at the moment is very much feeling like a little boy caught with a strange new pet he found outside. "Well, I hears a knockin', I walk to the door and--" "You'll forgive me if I'm skeptical, Callen." "If ye'd let me finish, Son--" "Twelve above, it's ''absurd''!" Sonia exclaims, throwing her arms out in exasperation. She laughs, a dark chuckle that belies no humour. "I don't see what's so absurd about it meself, Sonia. Might be someone couldn't take care of the wee $callenChild and thought this'd be the safest place for $themInformal..." "It feels //wrong//, Callen. Who'd be stupid enough to go out during high winds to drop off a baby to us, of all places? Why not the city watch, or an inn? Surely such a thing could wait until morning when there's more than six of us in the building, at the very ''least''. Have you done a mimic check? Where's Arche-" Callen erupts into laughter, a loud booming sound that shakes his large frame and rocks the little $child in his arms. It almost causes him to drop the bottle of milk he's holding before he manages to steady himself, fixing Sonia with a disbelieving stare. "Sonia Wierszy, you feckin' //baffle// me sometimes, lass. No, it's no mimic. Wards'd flag $themInformal the moment I went back through the door, an' if it was somehow rendered undetectable, there's not a mage or sorcerer in Sola that's capable of doin' such a thing that ain't employed by us in the first place. What'd be the point in it?" Callen goes quiet, for a moment. He looks up from the quietly feeding baby, and locks eyes with the younger woman. Twinkling amusement gives way to a haunted sort of melancholy: murky grey like the eye of a storm. "It's not a kind world down there, Sonia. We're both aware o' that. Best the baby stays with us, for now, 'til we can figure out where $their parents might be." His voice is soft and low, his rough and heavy accent shifting away to something more deliberate, the kind of voice he'd use to placate a younger student having a tantrum or calm someone with an injury down, as Sonia had seen him do so many times. It's the voice he'd used with her, before this, before... Sonia's frown twitches into something more accommodating, and she grimaces at the familiar tightness that builds in her scar--a puckered, jagged thing that snakes from beneath her shirt's collar, across her neck and jaw, to mercifully end just below the left corner of her mouth. "You're ... you're right, Callen. Unless this is another big joke from dear Archer." Sonia's eyes narrow, looking behind her to the door that leads out into the rest of the Academy's faculty halls. "Do you reckon I should go and ask them? Nicely, of course. They're //probably// working late." A wolfish grin joins her narrowed eyes. Callen sucks in a cheek and blinks slowly. "No, let 'em rest for tonight. They've only just installed the last of the magic locks. Blasted things..." he grumbles, "No, we should head home and let the $callenChild2 rest for tonight, as well. Goin' to be plenty of talk with the Council in the coming days, regardless. Archie'll be there if ye're insistin' on causin' grief." Sonia shrugs her shoulders in defeat and gathers their packs. Callen gently sets the baby down on the makeshift cot he'd built atop his desk, made from hastily gathered cushions and blankets, to prepare himself for leaving. [[Next.|PrologueScene5Part2]]

//Elsewhere...// The wind has somewhat calmed, no longer howling and threatening to knock over anything not weighed down. The thick walls of the Sky Lift station provide ample relief from the vicious winds, thankfully. The courier leans against one of these very walls, leathery, wide-brimmed hat pulled down tight and mouth obscured by the collar of his thick woollen coat, waiting for the first of the morning rides to arrive from Alposa. He looks around skittishly, expecting to see a flash of red hair or the glint of a dagger in the shadows behind, but finds nothing save for empty silence and biting cold. His worries are not assuaged in the slightest. //Wind's letting up, at least.// He sighs, a long pained huff that almost has him coughing as his throat catches. He steadies himself against a wall to catch his breath. "Got to quit this shit one day soon..." He dares to mutter aloud, striking a piece of flint from a worn little pack in his satchel and lighting a cigarette--a fairly new invention from overseas which he hadn't been so sure about at first, but now seems to find //quite// addictive--before bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply. //I've earned this one after tonight.// Dull grey ashes fall to the stone at the courier's feet, already burned out before they hit the ground. A tinny bell from somewhere high-up in the station begins to ring, signalling the oncoming arrival of the first Sky Lift of the day. //Gonna be a busy one.// He thinks, eagerly smoking the cigarette as it quickly diminishes in his fingers. //Got to move quick and quiet once I'm home. Maybe head down to Mestiria, find a job with the Elassi Guild in Petros an' I'll be right as rain. Probably gonna have to get Indebted in exchange for protection, but I'll figure it out...// The courier's thoughts come to a screeching halt: the Sky Lift approaches. His thoughts are a scramble, flying around his head like a tumultuous gale, he seeks the eye of his mental hurricane. The courier is a ''good'' courier. Good couriers know how to disappear when they have to. Calm. //'Least my conscience is safe. And the $child.// The courier's eyes narrow, looking back at the dark depths of Sola from behind him. By now, the $child's probably being taken care of. //You'll be alright, little one. You're safer here'n where you'd be if you'd come wi' me.// //Safety's all we can hope for, these days.// //[[All we can fight for.|PrologueScene7]]

"Home, then? With a wailing baby?" Sonia's face couldn't get more skeptical if she tried to make it so, Callen thinks. He picks the baby up once more and cradles $them close to his chest, taking extra care to swaddle the $child even tighter than when he'd found $them. Callen and Sonia's home isn't far, but it's damn cold. "$theyF's actually been quiet, lass. Our luck mightn't last the whole night but, Twelve willin', I've fed the little bugger enough that $they should be out cold til' morning." An almost exasperated smile comes over her face, then. "You just can't help yourself, hm, Edros? You and your helpless little things. I still remember the kiff kitten you found." "Damn the Council for exterminatin' that poor thing--" "They're //vermin//, Callen!" Sonia chides softly. This is a conversation they've had far more often than she would deem necessary. "It was cute, though. Shame they grow into little devils." The older man isn't sure what to say to this, he simply shrugs his broad shoulders and cradles the little $child tighter. "That's life, I suppose. Shall we, m'lady?" Sonia snorts. "Don't //m'lady// me, Master Edros. I know where you sleep." He flashes her a wide grin. "So do I, lass!" "Where'd you find milk, anyway?" Callen shrugs. "Kitchen's well-stocked, just don't tell the cooks. I'm already in enough trouble with the lads..." [[The two Bladeweavers head home.|PrologueScene6]]

//24th of Moro, 1482// //City Hall, early morning// "Seems you were wrong, Callen." "Seems that way." The two Bladeweavers trade short, clipped words in-between the baby's incessant, high-pitched screeches, amplified by the echoey hallways of Sola's massive City Hall. Any dirty looks sent their way by the haughty nobles strutting past them are met with Sonia's almost //vicious// glare alongside Callen's apologetic, embarrassed grimace. Neither are particularly ready for what is to come, certainly not at this hour, despite having expected their summons for scrutiny from the Bladeweavers' and Town Councils alike, just //not// at seven in the morning. Callen makes an attempt to shield his bleary eyes from the insistent morning sun, streaming in through the building's tall windows. He manages to forget the streaming bundle in his hands, and nearly ends up with a faceful of baby before he stops himself. He grunts. "Sonia, hold $them for a moment, would ye?" Sonia raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Thought you ''liked'' the baby, Callen?" He smirks. "Ye're not so terrible, lass. You only dropped the bottle on $them once last night." "Oh, I'm so glad you find that funny ''now''." She huffs. "I take it you're no longer considering kicking me out for the sake of a baby you found at midnight?" "I may yet, young lady, I may yet. Now, before I keel over, //take $themInformal//." Callen holds his hands out and Sonia gingerly, awkwardly takes the baby, slowly positioning $them in her lean, sleeved arms in a manner that she vaguely remembers being correct, looking about as comfortable with the situation as a fish might on dry land. "Now that's a sight I never thought I'd be seein', lass." Callen smirks wryly at her, deeming her offended glance a necessary punishment for his comment. "Don't get used to it, Cal." The scarred woman grunts, making eye contact with the baby for a mere moment. "We'll be rid of the thing, soon or late, and I can go back to my usual nightly activities..." To their shared surprise, the $child actually quiets somewhat, $their $eyecolour eyes meeting Sonia's green ones in a sort of silent duel. Something in the young Weaver's eyes tells the baby that screaming may not be the best idea, and $they fall silent. [["Huh." Is all Callen can say to that.|PrologueScene8]]

The door swings open slowly, old hinges creaking as the heavy oak is pushed back. Sonia enters first, confident stride distracting from the bead of sweat slowly running down her brow. Callen is right behind her, face set in a steely visage so unlike him. Two city watch guards stand ahead of them, ready for the two to surrender their weapons. Sonia grumblingly complies, unclasping her falchion's sheath and handing it over to a guard, a young man whose eyes almost //gleam// at the sight of the sword. It takes him and one other to simply heft the thing, the magically-enhanced steel proving difficult for any except its owner to carry. "That's pure Empyrean, mate. Don't even think about running off with it. I'll find you." Sonia whispers into his ear as she brushes past him. Callen gives him an apologetic look, but also whispers in his ear, "I don't doubt she would, lad," with a wink before unclipping his poleaxe from his back and handing it to another pair. "An' for the record, they're all pure Empyrean, ain't such a thing as //impure// Empyrean. She just likes to brag 'cause hers is shiny." He chuckles and catches up with Sonia. The chamber, likely to be older than Sola itself if it had been constructed before the Rise, would commonly be used to hold debates between members of the City Council who sat atop their high perches in the raised seating area. Below sits a far greater number of seats--used as audience seating in situations where a debate would be viewed publically or a performance was being held. Elsewhere in the City Hall sits an open-air version of this chamber, one that both he and Sonia have performed duels in as entertainment for visiting nobles. How they would cheer when their enchanted blades clashed--that unnatural ring of Empyrean striking Empyrean. Neither have had the 'privilege' of competing in the much larger arena, located elsewhere in the city, though. While that chamber had been full to the brim with cheering citizens and awash with life, this one is nigh on empty. It's almost lonely. The chamber's floor features a simple map: a sizable mosaic of Sola itself, although outdated by a few hundred years. The chamber's tall, expansive walls are decorated with faded murals of deeds long past, tales that are now considered more legend than proper history. Callen idly remarks to himself that this chamber likely once served as a gladiatorial arena in old times just like the other, a far cry from its use as a theatre and debate hall today. Seated in the stands, high above Callen and Sonia, are all seven members of the Bladeweaver High Council of Sola, who had been notified of the situation and its facets before even Callen and Sonia had, as the baby $child slept in their home. Alongside them are a few important members of the City Council, who had argued that the circumstances around the errant infant's appearance in Sola was a matter of concern for the city //and// the Bladeweavers' Order. The mayor is absent, owing to the approaching election. The young guard who'd ogled Sonia's blade earlier announces the arrival of the duo. "My lords and ladies, Master Callen Edros, of the Solan chapter of the Bladeweavers' Order, and Adept Sonia Wierszy, also of the Solan chapter of the Bladeweavers' Order." The two stand in the centre of the room now, right on the ancient mosaic map of Sola. Flanked on both sides by the councils of the Bladeweavers and the city itself, dressed in a deep crimson doublet adorned with silvery-turquoise embellishments, sits Abraham Rolko, Grandmaster of the Solan chapter of the Bladeweaver's Order. At Callen and Sonia's approach, he fixes his green-and-black cloak, draped over his left shoulder, and stands. The rest follow him. He smooths back his short, greying hair back and blinks once, twice, at the new arrivals. His scrutinous brown eyes pass over Sonia entirely and turn far warmer upon landing on Callen. "A good morning to you, Master Edros. I trust your journey here was pleasant and uneventful?" "Naturally, Grandmaster Abraham. 'Tis a pleasant day, made all the more pleasant by a rare trip to our wonderful City Hall." Callen bows, as does Abraham above him. Callen looks over his shoulder slightly, giving an encouraging look to Sonia. Her lips thin, but she also bows, albeit slower than either of the two men. It's not difficult for her to notice how he masks his natural accent, as if remaking himself before the councils. "I am most pleased to hear it, my friend. I believe we may now begin with the purpose of this ... impromptu meeting. You are welcome to interject with your own information when you feel it pertinent, naturally." He gestures, taking a seat, and the rest of the assembled council members do the same. Callen nods his head, clasping his burly arms behind his back and turning his head to look at the rest of the Councillors in attendance. "O' course, Grandmaster. Adept Wierszy and I would be happy to assist in whatever you wish." Beside him, Sonia's eyes roll, a motion only visible to Callen, who quickly bites away a grin. [['"Very well, let us begin."'|PrologueScene10]]

An amused snort rings out from behind the two of them. "The fearsome Hawk of Hangrot, Sonia Wierszy, brought to heel by a squawking babe..." Archer Ryburn, who--at the crack of dawn--had delivered the summons to Callen and Sonia with an amused glint in their eye and a grin akin to the one they'd worn when they'd tricked Callen into drinking salted tea rather than sugared, hangs a few paces behind, escorting them to the central chamber. Their brown eyes twinkle mischievously as they brush an imaginary bit of dust from their velvety purple robe, form-fitting and flowing almost to their ankles. "I must say, Sonia dearest, that I didn't expect your //motherly whims// to kick in for this one. Or perhaps $they's just scared of you, hm? Many of the littler ones at the Academy are, you know." Their voice is level and smooth, with an amused lilt applied to the end of their sentences as if always asking an amusing question, or speaking to a pet. "You say 'motherly whims' to me again, Archer, and you'll see my //killerly// whims at work." She shoots the mage a dirty look from over her shoulder, freckled nose creasing as she makes the threat. They're nearly the same height, but the action makes Sonia look ten times more intimidating--or, it would to someone who hasn't had this exact glare leveled at them nearly every day. Archer stares back blankly. "I'm //certain// that isn't even a real word--" "Can youse not argue at feckin' ''eight in the morning'', please, friends? I fear I'll not make it t'the chamber if the two of you keep on as ye are." Callen rubs his eyes feverishly, trying to force himself to wake up. It only serves to make him look slightly deranged, red circles around his eyes slowly fading. "Very well, Master Edros. I shall simply escort the two of you to the grand chamber, and then I'll take my leave with the little one, here. The matrons will have a //stellar// time with this one, I imagine. I'd been able to locate you amongst this chaos simply by listening to $their wails." They spare a short glance to the infant, looking back to Callen as if they'd never looked away. "$theyF needs proper milk from a person, remember, Archie. Cow or goat won't do, and none o' that shit ye' cook up, I don't trust it--" "The formula is perfectly safe, Master Edros. You have my assurances, for what those are worth after your..." Their deep brown eyes twinkle, "mishap, with the salt. I, and the nurses here, are perfectly capable of caring for a child. The little one will be well taken care of while the two of you face the, to be quite frank, very ''loud'' music." Callen grumbles but relents, far too tired to argue with someone who apparently doesn't sleep. "On that topic," Archer directs their attention to a set of ceiling-high, well-decorated double doors they'd almost walked straight past, "the music is right through here, Master Edros and Adept Wierszy." The mage stands to the side and does a little half-bow, flourishing their hand and quickly moving it to hide the growing smirk on their face. "I'll take the child now, if you don't mind. $theyF will be well taken care of, I swear it upon my name as an archmage." Sonia is surprisingly reluctant to hand the baby over, but eventually does so, allowing Archer to leave with the child. Naturally, she shoots both of her middle fingers up and wiggles them at the mage as they walk away, clueless to the silent profanities being hurled their way by the woman. "Wreak havoc, you little fucker." She whispers. Callen takes a long, steadying breath and turns to look at Sonia. "Are ye ready, lass?" He asks, placing one hand on the large door, ready to push it open at her command. "Need a drink, Cal." She murmurs miserably. He shoots her a look, mixed with disapproval and concern in equal measure. "Hopin' that's a joke, lass." [[She smiles morosely. "Let's say it is. Get this thing open."|PrologueScene9]]

A beat passes as Callen waits for Grandmaster Abraham to continue. "I am certain, by now, Master Edros and Adept Wierszy, that you have been made at the very least partially aware of the situation that the two of you find yourselves directly in the centre of. However, for the sake of my colleagues on Sola's City Council as well as my fellow Grandmasters attending this hearing with me today, and in the event you have not been fully informed of your situation, I will provide some additional clarity." "O' course, Grandmaster Abraham, as you wish." Callen stifles a yawn, flexing his jaw and scrunching his nose as his eyes squint. //Gods, it's feckin' ''early''//, he thinks to himself. He catches Sonia trying not to laugh in the corner of his eye. "In the early hours of this morning, shortly after you reportedly found the infant at our doorstep, a deceased young couple of unknown origin and background were discovered in an abandoned house. Sherrif Iva?" Abraham turns his head to a member of the City Council, a burly middle-aged woman with sunken eyes and close-cropped hair, who coughs into her hand and begins speaking. "The couple are a young man and woman, approximately in their mid twenties, with physical descriptions matching that of the $child. They were found in the bedroom, with the woman's throat slit and the man having swallowed a lethal dosage of nightshade. The city watch is lead to believe that this was a murder-suicide, on the part of the father. What remains to be seen is how the baby ended up at the Bladeweavers' Academy. Our current theory's that--" "The dad did it, right?" Sonia interjects. "Not sure that's so plausible. Why'd he drop his baby on us just to off himself and his woman?" Grandmaster Abraham shoots her a stern look from his high position, but confirms, "This is merely one of a few theories at play, Adept Wierszy. The most likely explanation is that the young man felt guilt for his actions and dropped the $child somewhere he felt $they would be safe." Another Grandmaster pipes in, a tall woman with sleek blonde hair braided down to her back, wearing an elaborate coat embroidered with the Bladeweavers' winged blade insignia, "Surely the best place to send a child would be the city watch at such an hour? Even leaving the babe at the scene of the crime would be more responsible, as the city watch would find $them there?" "We cannot know the thoughts of a man willing to murder his own wife, Grandmaster Enota," Abraham reasons, "nor is that the purpose of this meeting. Master Edros, please repeat to me your version of the events that transpired. I wish to hear it from your mouth rather than that of young Ryburn. They are quite the ... ''character''." Sonia smirks to herself. //[[That, we can agree on.|PrologueScene11]]//

Sonia's jaw clenches uncomfortably as Callen relays to Abraham what he'd told her the night before. "Certainly, Grandmaster Abraham. In the early hours of t'morning, I'd say 'round twelve or one o'clock, I can't say which, I was disturbed while eating me supper by a knock on the main doors. I assumed it would be the twa--//vagrant youth// from the Skirton district, playing a prank at night, but when I opened the door nobody was to be found--nobody runnin' away or anything o' the sort. It's then that I spotted the $callenChild on the floor with a note." Abraham peers down to his small desk and extracts the aforementioned note from a leather folder. "That would be this note, Master Callen? It reads 'Protect $them'?" "Aye, that'd be the one, Grandmaster." Abraham shows the note to the other Councillors that are seated. Sherrif Iva, the woman Sonia had interrupted, speaks up again, "Pardon my interruption, but this seems to be solid proof that whoever left the baby with the Weavers was tryin' to do a good deed by the $child. P'raps this mystery person simply couldn't find a member of the city watch at the late hour?" Grandmaster Enota is barely able to mask the roll of her eyes as she snaps her gaze to the sherrif and interrupts. "To be frank, I do not believe the circumstances of the child's appearance on our doorstep is of particular note. What is to be done //now// is of greater import, in my eyes. Do you not agree, Grandmaster Abraham?" The old Grandmaster nods contemplatively. "It is my view that the parents, with no identifiable insignia or possessions, are of lowborn background, and without any record of their names we could not possibly find family to return the child to. In this regard, I believe the $child should be placed into the care of the city watch and sent to a surface orphanag--" Suddenly, Callen interrupts. "Grandmaster Abraham, please reconsider!" The outburst surprises himself and Sonia alike, who fixes him with a bemused look. //What are you doing, Cal?// She thinks. She knows he has a soft spot for children, but this is pushing his luck. "What would you have us do, Master Edros? The orphanage is the only place for a lowborn orphan with no guardian." "I've //seen// those places, Abe. They ain't no place fer any child, let alone a baby $child. Please, there must be someone in Sola looking for a ward, even a damned whippin' $child, //somethin'!//" Suddenly, an idea blooms in Sonia's mind. Probably the most absurd, stupid, out-of-character idea she's ever had, but she can't //stand// seeing Callen this distressed, so, against all reasonable logic, she butts in. "$theyF could be our ward. The Order's ward." Callen stops whatever he was saying immediately and turns his whole body to look at Sonia. His grey eyes are round and huge, in absolute disbelief of what //she// had just suggested. Sonia simply shrugs, raises her eyebrows and gestures for him to look back at their dumbfounded audience. Abraham sputters for a moment, before speaking again. "//Adept Sonia//, what you suggest is absurd. There is a //cost// to being in the Order, a cost that increases with each passing year as the tensions on the surface do--" "We'll cover the cost, //Abe//. We make enough as Weavers, Callen and I. We'd be cap--" Grandmaster Enota interrupts her. "Adept Wierszy, I would ask you to remember your //place// in these discussions. You, a mere Adept, might I add, are only here because of your association with Master Edros, whom--" "I'd ask //you// to remember your place, Enota, before I put you in it." Sonia grunts, shoulders drawn tight and fists balled up at her sides. "Sonia!" Callen whisper-shouts, getting her attention. "Calm yerself, lass. No good'll come of antagonisin' them." "I ... I apologise, Grandmaster Enota," Under her breath, she adds, "you mouldering bitch." Grandmaster Abraham clasps his fingers together, pondering what Callen had said to him earlier. "Your benevolent streak is most renowned and consistent, Master Edros. Would you be willing to pay the price of this sponsorship, however? I'm afraid that, contrary to Adept Wierszy's ... outburst, your jobs aren't likely to pay for fresh Empyrean as well as a full Bladeweaver's education. It would certainly require you to be Indebted. A mark that would stay with you until the $child graduates the Order and likely well beyond that, considering the rising price of admission." Callen closes his eyes, chewing his lip in thought. "I ... I'd accept that, yes, Grandmaster." He says, with an air of solemn finality. Sonia's green eyes widen. Being Indebted is not something most people would do on a whim, especially in a situation that isn't life or death for them specifically. No, only those in extreme danger would be willing to have themself branded as Indebted, self-made executors of the will of whoever they Indebt themselves to. A second passes, and then another. "Fucking hell, Edros. The shit I do for you..." She mutters under her breath, then speaks loudly, clearly. "I'll share the burden of the Debt. The $child will be ward to us both, in exchange for the Debt being split between Master Edros and I." Grandmaster Abraham looks intrigued, his thick brows tilted up in a curious expression, like a scholar examining a fresh specimen. "This is unlike you, Adept Wierszy. Certainly, if you wish to share a Debt with Master Edros, you may. I will signal for the appropriate personnel to prepare the branding and ... paperwork. If none on this gathered council object, then we shall accept your terms." The others on both councils shake their heads, either not particularly interested in this situation or wanting for it to come to a conclusion. Deaths in Sola are rare, and the longer this remains in conversation, the louder the outcry about it would get. Better for the $child to have a fresh start, some of them must reckon, though talk will //eventually// find its way to the ears of the $child $themself, they're sure. Callen turns to Sonia, looking positively bewildered with her. "Sonia.. why would ye //do// that to yerself? A Debt ain't somethin' ye just //pick up// for someone else." Sonia responds in a low, earnest voice, a tinge of sincerity unfamiliar to Callen, unheard since a very long time ago. "I may not be branded for it, but I //owe// you, Callen. If you want to go and get yourself Indebted for that little shit, I'll put my arm right beside yours, and you can't stop me. To the bitter end." [["To the bitter end." Callen agrees, wistfully.|PrologueScene12]]

Abraham interrupts the moment between the two of them with a cough. "Another, final, matter, then. Both of you will be responsible for the $child, it goes without saying. However, one must take the role of sole guardian. You will be as $their parent. The $child will take your name, be the heir of your estate and possessions, you will need to take $them to the surface on $their thirteenth birthday for $their Confirmation. Master Edros, your position as Steward will be rescinded in order for you to have the time to properly care for the $child, also. You will be //personally// responsible for much of $their physical training at the academy, as well as $their education before $they is inducted into the Order at ten years of age. Is this agreeable to the both of you? Do you understand and accept these terms?" Callen and Sonia look at eachother, and nod. "Aye, it is. And we do." "Loud and clear, Grandmaster." Abraham smooths the front of his doublet down. "Very well, then. This has been an... interesting meeting, to say the very least. All that is to be settled now is the matter of //who// will be the $child's guardian. Do I have a volunteer, perhaps?" He smirks slyly, the prospect of someone volunteering guardianship of an orphan seemingly quite amusing to him. [[🐺 Callen steps forward. "I'll take the responsibility."|PrologueScene13Callen]] [[🦅 Sonia stumbles forward, barely thinking. "I-I'll do it!"|PrologueScene13Sonia]]

<<nobr>> <<set $mentor to "Callen">> <<set $mentorThey to "he">> <<set $mentorThem to "him">> <<set $mentorTheirs to "his">> <</nobr>>A second passes, agonizingly slow. Both Callen and Sonia feel a chill run down their necks, though neither of them acknowledge it. "Very well, Master Edros. The $child will take your last name, and naming rights naturally go to you. $theyF will be your legal child and inherit your possessions upon your death, excluding any Order property, which includes your cloak, Empyrean blade and badge. In the event that you are unavailable to care for the child, your responsibilities will temporarily pass to Adept Wierszy, should you pass away or be otherwise unable to execute your duties as $their guardian, your half of the Debt and responsibilities will pass on to Adept Wierszy. Should the two of you be unable to care for the child, you must nominate a third to assist, or $they will be sent to the surface as before. Of course, you will be relieved of your duties as the Citadel's Steward to accommodate your new burden. Do you understand?" "I understand, Abraham. Thank ye." //Perhaps this can make up for the past ... if anythin' can.// "Very good. The two of you are dismissed. We will be in touch with regards to your shared Debt. I have notified Apprentice Mage Ryburn to return the $child to you. Sun shine upon the three of you. A child raised by Bladeweavers is likely to be a star among stars, despite $their peculiar origins. Of course, I will be interested to see the $child's progress in the future." Callen and Sonia turn and leave the chamber, both releasing shaky breaths after retrieving their weapons and having the door slammed behind them. "What the //hell// have we just done, Callen?" Sonia whisper-shouts once they're back in the long, bright hallway, exasperated. "How the fuck do //we// take care of an //''actual fucking baby person?''//" Callen looks shell-shocked, but manages a traditionally chipper answer. "I'm sure we'll do fine, lass." Sonia sighs, all the tension from before leaving her body. "Well, I said I owed you, and that's still true. I'm with you on this, no matter what, Cal. Your- //our// ward is gonna be the best of us, I'm sure of it." "With you chippin' in with teaching $themInformal, lass, $they'll be able to cut the heavens themselves, I reckon." Callen chuckles. Sonia smirks, happy to be back into their regular joking routine."Too fucking right. Heavens themselves had best look out." She's quiet for a moment, but then realises something. "Er, who makes baby clothes in Sola?" Callen strokes his bearded chin, but comes up short for ideas. <<link "<q>I'm ... not too sure, lass.</q>">> <<goto TitleScreen>> <</link>>

<<nobr>> <<set $mentor to "Sonia">> <<set $mentorThey to "she">> <<set $mentorThem to "her">> <<set $mentorTheirs to "hers">> <</nobr>> A second passes, agonizingly slow. Both Callen and Sonia feel a chill run down their necks, though neither of them acknowledge it. "//What?!//" Callen exclaims. A gasp spreads through the room at his exclamation, but the attention is soon returned to Sonia, who's stepped forward closer to Abraham. "I'll ward the $child. It's high time old Cal had a bit of a break." Her words are confident, but her wide eyes and the hard set of her jaw betray the fact she's //melting// with nerves. Her hands clench and unclench at her sides, no longer solid fists but rapid blurs of anxiety and dull dread as she fidgets with the air. "And you are aware of what this entails, Adept Wierszy? The $child will take your last name, and naming rights naturally go to you. $theyF will be your legal child and inherit your possessions upon your death, excluding any Order property, which includes your cloak, Empyrean blade and badge. In the event that you are unavailable to care for the child, your responsibilities will temporarily pass to Master Edros, should you pass away or be otherwise unable to execute your duties as $their guardian, your half of the Debt and responsibilities will pass on to Master Edros. Should the two of you be unable to care for the child, you must nominate a third to assist, or $they will be sent to the surface as before. I will ask once more: do you understand?" She nods, too-firmly. "I wouldn't want some snot-nosed little brat inheriting my sword anyway. I--I accept, Abe. I'll be $their guardian, for better or worse." //Fate's sealed now, isn't it?// "Very well." He fixes her with an unusual look, //is that pride//? "I had not thought you the sort to accept a burden such as this, Adept Wierszy. Perhaps we shall review your petition for Knighthood sooner than intended, hm?" Sonia's green eyes go saucer-wide, despite her efforts to appear nonchalant. "That--that'd be a great honour, Grandmaster." She bows her head quickly, and he makes a deep 'hmph' sound. "The two of you are dismissed. We will be in touch with regards to your shared Debt. You will find the $child in the nursery." Abraham pauses, allowing the other council members to depart the stands, exiting through another exit in the hall. "Sun shine upon the three of you. A child raised by Bladeweavers is likely to be a star among stars, despite $their peculiar origins. Of course, I will be interested to see the $child's progress in the future." His dark eyes glint with interest. Callen and Sonia turn and leave the chamber, both releasing shaky breaths after retrieving their weapons and having the door slammed behind them. "I cannae say I'm not confused, Sonia. I just ... don't understand it. I would've been happy to shoulder that burden." "I meant what I said, Callen. I owe you. If this pays off even a small part of that debt you're owed, I'll do it." Her eyes are uncharacteristically vulnerable, a small smile forming as she pushes a loose strand of hair back. Callen assures her, as he has done a hundred times before, "You owe me nothin', lass. You fought just as much as I did, back then. Yer life is your own." Sonia sighs. "It doesn't always feel that way, Cal." He smiles wistfully, "Aye, I reckon it won't for a while, especially now." Sonia sighs, all the tension from before leaving her body. "Well, I said I owed you, and that's still true. I'm with you on this, no matter what, Cal. Your--//our// ward is gonna be the best of us, I'm sure of it." "With you teachin' $themInformal, lass, $they'll be able to cut the heavens themselves, I reckon." Callen chuckles. Sonia smirks, happy to be back into their regular joking routine. "Too fucking right. Heavens themselves had best look out." She's quiet for a moment, but then realises something. "Er, who makes baby clothes in Sola?" Callen strokes his bearded chin, but comes up short for ideas. <<link "<q>I'm ... not too sure, lass.</q>">> <<goto TitleScreen>> <</link>>

''//You dream...//'' Dreams are a rare thing for you. On the occasion that you have one, what you see is mostly unintelligible, leaving you hard-pressed to recount anything that occured in the blur of your sleeping mind once you've woken. Much of the time they are just swirls of vision and sound--reds, greens, blues, with splotches of purple and orange--rendered as the frenetic, paradoxical stillness of the bottom of a pond deep within your mind--grains of nothing shifting between states of deep quiet and roaring chaos. [[This dream is ... different.|Interlude2]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Pfw7VrR.png"> <<nobr>><<set $currentChapter = 1>><</nobr>>//9th of Noctome, AR 1487 (Early Autumn) - Five Years Old// //Home// You're unceremoniously ripped from the dream by big hands on your shoulders that shake you, gentle but firm. "Come on, $callenChild, I've been callin' of ye for minutes, you little bugger." Your eyes, once glued shut by the strange gritty stuff that you find in them when you've been asleep for a //really// long time, shoot open quite suddenly, and you hasten to cover them once more with your little hands to protect them from the too-bright morning sun. Once you're sure they've properly adjusted, you shift your hands out of the way to get a good look at the one who woke you. They're //big//. With calm, grey eyes. And a placid smile--partly hidden by a thick brown beard, flecked with more grey. "Uncle Callen!" You practically fling yourself up into his big strong arms from your little bed--newly built by him and Aunt Sonia over a period of three long, arduous days. You //think// it's sturdy enough. He anticipates the hug, and holds you there for a good few seconds until you're squirming to get free. Uncle Callen releases you, chuckling that deep chuckle of his and standing tall as you sit up in bed, stretching your arms wide to get rid of that tired ache. He's already dressed for the day, it seems. He's told you he wasn't an early riser for a long while before you were born, but now he's used to it. "G'morning, little $callenChild. You're normally up by now, so I just thought I'd come an' check on ye. You've still beaten your Aunt Sonia, if ye'd like to come an' wake the beast up with me?" [[You grin excitedly, mirroring Uncle Callen's own playful smile. It's hard to believe he's so old when he acts like a kid all the time. (Cautious ---)|Chap1Scene2A][$cautious to $cautious - 10]] [[You're hesitant to do it. You know Aunt Sonia's never actually mad at you, but you're still unsure about playing a joke on her like this. (Cautious +++)|Chap1Scene2B][$cautious to $cautious + 10]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/AxFhwS7.png"> <div id="subheader-text-titlescreen"><div id="centre-text">[[Click to continue.|Interlude1]]</div></div>

You practically leap up and struggle into some fresh clothes, already laid out for you, while Uncle Callen makes your bed, straightening out the fresh cotton sheets as practiced as a professional. Creeping through the short hallway to Aunt Sonia's room feels like something you'd do at night time, secretive and quite a bit naughty, though right now you're lit by the faint early morning sun. Uncle Callen's right behind you, though, skulking the same as you are. You're not sure if he's doing it because it //actually// works, or just to mimic you. Either way, you're not going to risk him giving you away by walking with those heavy, booming footsteps that always clue you in to his imminent arrival at your door, so you keep up the act, stifling a giggle at the silliness of the whole thing. Once you reach the dark, heavy door, inscribed with the initials "//S.W//" you step forward and wait for Uncle Callen's signal to knock, looking up over your shoulder at him with excited little eyes. Uncle Callen smirks and nods once, the action powerful and quick. He's as excited as you are. Your knock is light and quick, a flurry of rat-a-tat-tatting like a woodpecker valiantly trying to drill through the aged oak. A few seconds pass. There's no response from inside... Uncle Callen grimaces. "The beast must be slumbering away still, eh?" You giggle and answer, "I can't knock loud enough!" "Move aside, $callenChild, I'll take care o' the entrance to her lair." You oblige him, hastily jumping to the side so Uncle Callen can prepare his famous knock. Uncle Callen stands before the door and, deliberately, forcefully, ''punches'' it, almost. His thick hand slams into the old oak, shaking it around in its frame. It evokes a memory--months ago, two carriages had collided in the middle of the street. You'd watched with wide eyes as one of them simply //collapsed//, something that once had function and purpose was reduced to mere wheels and planks with a sound like thunder. The knock echoes down the small hallway, bouncing off cold stone and aged wood as you cover your ears--Uncle Callen never knocks once. Your preparedness is rewarded as Uncle Callen performs the knock twice more before stepping back, hands clasped politely behind his back. The two of you listen to a startled yell and then a scrambling coming from within, as if a wildcat had been let loose inside. You know the truth, though: what's inside is //far// more dangerous. After a few more seconds of scrambling and muffled swearing--which draws a giggle from you and a scoff from Uncle Callen--a key rattles in the lock to Aunt Sonia's door. [[The door swings open with a loud creak, thrown aside by the freshly awoken inhabitant of the room it guards.|Chap1Scene3]]

Your face twists in hesitation, which Uncle Callen catches on to immediately. "Oh, $callenChild, I promise it'll be fine. You've nothin' to fear from yer Aunt Sonia in the mornin' and, besides that, she needs to get up for our trip. This'll just be us doin' her a favour!" His warm, reassuring smile is enough to sate your worries, at least somewhat. You're still not the biggest fan of this idea. You slowly get up and out of bed and struggle into some fresh clothes, already laid out for you. Uncle Callen makes your bed, straightening out the fresh cotton sheets as practiced as a professional. Creeping through the short hallway to Aunt Sonia's room feels like something you'd do at night time, secretive and quite a bit naughty, though right now you're lit by the faint early morning sun. Uncle Callen's right behind you, though, skulking the same as you are. You're not sure if he's doing it because it //actually// works, or just to reassure you. Either way, you're not going to risk him messing everything up by walking with those heavy, booming footsteps that always clue you in to his imminent arrival at your door, so you keep up the act, stifling a nervous giggle at the suspense of the whole thing. Once you reach the dark, heavy door, inscribed with the initials "//S.W//" you step back and wait for Uncle Callen to knock, looking up at him with shy little eyes. The tactic works, of course. Uncle Callen stands before the door and, deliberately, forcefully, ''punches'' it, almost. His thick hand slams into the old oak, shaking it around in its frame. It evokes a memory--months ago, two carriages had collided in the middle of the street. You'd watched with wide eyes as one of them simply //collapsed//, something that once had function and purpose was reduced to mere wheels and planks with a sound like thunder. The knock echoes down the small hallway, bouncing off cold stone and aged wood as you cover your ears--Uncle Callen never knocks once. Your preparedness is rewarded as Uncle Callen performs the knock twice more before stepping back, hands clasped politely behind his back. The two of you listen to a startled yell and then a scrambling coming from within, as if a wildcat had been let loose inside. You know the truth, though: what's inside is //far// more dangerous. After a few more seconds of scrambling and muffled swearing--which draws a nervous giggle from you and a scoff from Uncle Callen--a key rattles in the lock to Aunt Sonia's door. [[The door swings open with a loud creak, thrown aside by the freshly awoken inhabitant of the room it guards.|Chap1Scene3]]

<<if $cautious < 50>>In the middle of the expansive doorway stands Aunt Sonia herself, looking as if she'd genuinely just woken up judging by the wild loose strands of her straight hair and the quite noticeable bags under her green eyes, which she then proceeds to confirm by stifling a yawn before letting loose: "What the ''//fuck//'' is so important that you have to knock so //fuckin'// hard all my //shit// falls off my //fuckin' shel-//" Aunt Sonia stops in the middle of her profanity-riddled diatribe once she notices you, standing proudly just off to the side of Uncle Callen, hands on your hips, beaming at her with a successful little smile. "Uncle Callen called you a beast." "Oh fuck.." She mutters under her breath, which elicits another giggle from you and a chiding sigh from Uncle Callen. At the same time, Aunt Sonia gives Uncle Callen a little glare, probably because of what you said about him calling her a beast. Oops. "G'morning, //Master// Wierszy. I trust ye had a lovely rest after the celebrations last night?" Her cheeks redden at the mention of her title--one she'd recently been bestowed with by the Bladeweavers just in time for the start of the next academic year, later this month. It's apparently a big deal, her now being a Master of the Order. The one you'll be a part of some day. They'd thrown a party once they found out, and your little house was filled with more people than you'd ever seen before, except for when you go to the city centre when it's busy, of course. That has //way// more people, just spread out. Lots of Uncle Callen's friends whose names you didn't know and seemed to look a lot like him had ruffled your hair, telling you how proud he and they were of your Aunt Sonia. There had been tears that night, plenty of them. You were told they were happy ones, shed by everyone attending. You're not so sure about the ones shed by Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen once everyone had left and they thought you couldn't hear or see. They'd sat at the big table where you'd eat meals together when you had the time, Aunt Sonia's head buried into Uncle Callen's shoulder, sobbing weakly as she leaned across from her chair next to his. Aunt Sonia didn't often cry, so it was a strange sight. You couldn't see Uncle Callen's face too well, but you'd guessed he had also been crying by how red his eyes were later on. They'd found you out soon after, and when you'd asked //why// they were crying as Uncle Callen led you to your bedroom, he'd said they were both simply happy, is all. You're not sure if you believed them, but you were tired so you didn't protest as Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia sluggishly changed you into your bedclothes and tucked you in, forgoing your usual bedtime ritual since you fell asleep so quickly. Maybe //that's// why you had that weird dream...<<else>>In the middle of the expansive doorway stands Aunt Sonia herself, looking as if she'd genuinely just woken up judging by the wild loose strands of her straight hair and the quite noticeable bags under her green eyes, which she then proceeds to confirm by stifling a yawn before letting loose: "What the ''//fuck//'' is so important that you have to knock so //fuckin'// hard all my //shit// falls off my //fuckin' shel-//" Aunt Sonia stops in the middle of her profanity-riddled diatribe once she notices you, clutching to Uncle Callen's pant leg. "Oh fuck.." She mutters under her breath, which elicits a nervous giggle from you and a chiding sigh from Uncle Callen, whose hand is on your shoulder, calming your nerves. "G'morning, //Master// Wierszy. I trust ye had a lovely rest after the celebrations last night?" Her cheeks redden at the mention of her title--one she'd recently been bestowed with by the Bladeweavers just in time for the start of the next academic year, later this month. It's apparently a big deal, her now being a Master of the Order. The one you'll be a part of some day. They'd thrown a party once they found out, and your little house was filled with more people than you'd ever seen before, except for when you go to the city centre when it's busy, of course. That has //way// more people, just spread out. Lots of Uncle Callen's friends whose names you didn't know and seemed to look a lot like him had ruffled your hair (despite weak protests), telling you how proud he and they were of your Aunt Sonia. There had been tears that night, plenty of them. You were told they were happy ones, shed by everyone attending. You're not so sure about the ones shed by Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen once everyone had left and they thought you couldn't hear or see. They'd sat at the big table where you'd eat meals together when you had the time, Aunt Sonia's head buried into Uncle Callen's shoulder, sobbing weakly as she leaned across from her chair next to his. Aunt Sonia didn't often cry, so it was a strange sight. You couldn't see Uncle Callen's face too well, but you'd guessed he had also been crying by how red his eyes were later on. They'd found you out soon after, and, once you'd been assured you weren't in trouble for snooping //this time//, when you'd asked //why// they were crying as Uncle Callen led you to your bedroom, he'd said they were both simply happy, is all. You're not sure if you believed them, but you were tired so you didn't protest as Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia sluggishly changed you into your bedclothes and tucked you in, forgoing your usual bedtime ritual since you fell asleep so quickly. Maybe //that's// why you had that weird dream...<</if>> [[Next|Chap1Scene4]]

<<nobr>> <<set $ch1comb = 0>> <</nobr>>You're pulled from your idle thoughts when Aunt Sonia responds. "I did, yeah. My head's not feelin' fantastic but I guess that's what happens when we let Markos provide the alcohol." Aunt Sonia's words are slow and thought-out, something she's prone to doing in the mornings when she hasn't fully woken up yet, and you can assume the effect is bolstered by the thing she calls a hangover, which Uncle Callen never seems to get when //he// drinks. //Might just be an Aunt Sonia thing//, you think. Aunt Sonia finally steps out of the doorway and stoops down at your level. Her bleary eyes turn sharp once they meet your $eyecolour ones, and you <<if $cautious < 50>> giggle conspiratorially, knowing what's about to happen. You look to Uncle Callen for help, but the //traitor// simply says, "You deserve this for rattin' me out, and ye know what y'were gettin' yerself into, $callenChild, good luck!" With that he strides away, downstairs and into the kitchen. <<else>> giggle nervously, knowing what's about to happen. You look pleadingly to Uncle Callen for help, but the //traitor// simply says, "You know what y'were gettin' yerself into, $callenChild, good luck!" With that he strides away, downstairs and into the kitchen.<</if>> You're barely able to yell out "Traitor!" before your attention's brought back to Aunt Sonia, who growls, lunges forward and practically snatches you up, wrapping one arm around your waist and hoisting you over her shoulder so your head and legs are both pointing at the ground. "Lemme go!" You squeal, batting at her shirt-covered back with ineffectual strikes. The echo of your giggles and squeals changes tone as she carries you out of the hallway and down the stairs, into the larger room of the kitchen of your home. After a few more moments of fruitless struggling, Aunt Sonia lets you go, depositing you on the big wooden table in the centre of the room like a sack of onions. You take a minute to catch your breath after giggling so much and sit up, shuffling over to the edge of the table (while avoiding some lit candles) and hopping off, landing on the smooth stone floor with a little "oof". You instead find a far more suitable seating position in a little chair at the head of the table, made higher specially for you, and wait for whatever's being made for breakfast. Aunt Sonia inspects the hot, crackling stove, still not entirely trusting Uncle Callen with making breakfast, despite not getting up herself to make it. Apparently satisfied with his work so far, she nods and grabs a comb from her belt--holstered alongside a litany of other little tools she likes to have on hand--and starts to tidy up her messy hair while peering into a small mirror hung on the wall for guidance. Once finished, she catches you looking through the reflection and sticks her tongue out at you, causing you to gasp and stifle a giggle. Busted! "Your turn, you little devil." Aunt Sonia approaches, twirling the comb expertly between her fingers. It's a trick she's shown you with things like coins (which you've practised with yourself, to much less success), pens and knives (which you are not allowed to practise with, for some reason, so why would she even show you?). "Time to tame that mess on your head." [[You sit up straight and let Aunt Sonia get to work. You genuinely like having your hair combed. It's relaxing, even if she can sometimes be a little rough. (Volatile --)|Chap1Scene5][$volatile to $volatile - 12, $ch1comb to 1]] [[You grumble but relent. She's just going to catch you and make you sit for it anyway. You don't like having to sit still for your hair being combed. (Volatile ++)|Chap1Scene5][$volatile to $volatile + 12]]

<div id="subheader-text">//Choose your hair.//</div> <<if $ch1comb == 1>>You sit as still as possible, obediently looking forward with your head straight in order for Aunt Sonia to comb your hair as quickly as possible, wooden teeth running through and tidying up your <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$hairtexture" autoselect>> <<option "straight" "straight">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "loosely curled" "loosely curled">> <<option "tightly curled" "tightly curled">> <<option "coiled" "coiled">> <</cycle>>, <<cycle "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "pale blonde" "pale blonde">> <<option "golden blonde" "golden blonde">> <<option "ash blonde" "ash blonde">> <<option "dark blonde" "dark blonde">> <<option "strawberry blonde" "strawberry blonde">> <<option "coppery" "coppery">> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "auburn" "auburn">> <<option "chestnut brown" "chestnut brown">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "medium brown" "medium brown">> <<option "deep brown" "deep brown">> <<option "black" "black">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$hairtexture" autoselect>> <<option "straight" "straight">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "loosely curled" "loosely curled">> <<option "tightly curled" "tightly curled">> <<option "coiled" "coiled">> <</listbox>>, <<listbox "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "pale blonde" "pale blonde">> <<option "golden blonde" "golden blonde">> <<option "ash blonde" "ash blonde">> <<option "dark blonde" "dark blonde">> <<option "strawberry blonde" "strawberry blonde">> <<option "coppery" "coppery">> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "auburn" "auburn">> <<option "chestnut brown" "chestnut brown">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "medium brown" "medium brown">> <<option "deep brown" "deep brown">> <<option "black" "black">><</listbox>><</if>> strands, running her slender fingers through once she's satisfied. "Perfect." She decides, depositing the comb back in her belt as you happily continue to fix your hair yourself, styling it how you like it. <<else>>You kick your legs impatiently under the chair and whine a little as Aunt Sonia gets to work, holding your head still with one strong hand while she runs the wooden teeth of the comb through your hair with the other, tidying up the <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$hairtexture" autoselect>> <<option "straight" "straight">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "loosely curled" "loosely curled">> <<option "tightly curled" "tightly curled">> <<option "coiled" "coiled">> <</cycle>>, <<cycle "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "pale blonde" "pale blonde">> <<option "golden blonde" "golden blonde">> <<option "ash blonde" "ash blonde">> <<option "dark blonde" "dark blonde">> <<option "strawberry blonde" "strawberry blonde">> <<option "coppery" "coppery">> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "auburn" "auburn">> <<option "chestnut brown" "chestnut brown">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "medium brown" "medium brown">> <<option "deep brown" "deep brown">> <<option "black" "black">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$hairtexture" autoselect>> <<option "straight" "straight">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "loosely curled" "loosely curled">> <<option "tightly curled" "tightly curled">> <<option "coiled" "coiled">> <</listbox>>, <<listbox "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "pale blonde" "pale blonde">> <<option "golden blonde" "golden blonde">> <<option "ash blonde" "ash blonde">> <<option "dark blonde" "dark blonde">> <<option "strawberry blonde" "strawberry blonde">> <<option "coppery" "coppery">> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "auburn" "auburn">> <<option "chestnut brown" "chestnut brown">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "medium brown" "medium brown">> <<option "deep brown" "deep brown">> <<option "black" "black">><</listbox>><</if>> strands, running her slender fingers through once she's satisfied. You shake her off and she chuckles at your grumpy expression. It's //not// funny.<</if>> [[Next|Chap1Scene6]]

<<nobr>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">> <<set $lastname to "Wierszy">> <<else>> <<set $lastname to "Edros">> <</if>> <</nobr>>Hair tidied up, you turn your attention back to Uncle Callen, who's just finished cooking breakfast. Aunt Sonia sits at one side of you as he deposits her plate in front of her. It's filled with freshly fried seasoned fish, warm bread you'd picked out yourself at the bakery just the other day and a couple of fried eggs, Aunt Sonia's favourite. She wiggles her eyebrows at him and manages to let out a quick "It'll do" before tucking in with the big metal fork provided for her. Aunt Sonia eats like a wild animal sometimes, and for all of her //and// Uncle Callen's insistence that you show table manners, she often forgets them when breakfast is concerned. Uncle Callen shares a glance with you for a moment and rolls his eyes, drawing a chuckle from you, before going to get your breakfast. Uncle Callen deposits a bowl of heated up vegetable stew from yesterday in front of you, along with a little wooden spoon and some small pieces of bread with which to dip in the stew. Uncle Callen's smile is fond as you look up at him for confirmation that you can dig in. He nods firmly, and says "Enjoy yer meal, <div id="subheader-text">//Choose your name.//</div> <<textbox "$firstname" "Enter your own">> [[Next|Chap1Scene7]] Or, choose a preset name:<<if $agab == "male">> [[Oscar|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Oscar"]] [[Dante|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Dante"]] [[Bertram|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Bertram"]] [[Felix|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Felix"]] [[Isaac|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Isaac"]] [[Ricard|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Ricard"]] [[Allister|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Allister"]] [[Ronan|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Ronan"]] <<else>> [[Alenya|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Alenya"]] [[Lilith|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Lilith"]] [[Isla|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Aisling"]] [[Petra|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Erica"]] [[Elisabet|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Elisabet"]] [[Olivia|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Olivia"]] [[Helene|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Helene"]] [[Brigite|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Brigite"]] <</if>> Alternatively, choose from a list of unisex names: [[Kai|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Kai"]] [[Denis|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Denis"]] [[Joan|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Joan"]] [[Austine|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Austine"]] [[Pax|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Pax"]] [[Luca|Chap1Scene7][$firstname to "Luca"]]

<<nobr>><<set $chap1activity to "unknown">><</nobr>>$firstname." With your meal taken care of, Uncle Callen goes back to the stove to retreive his own meal, a hearty piling of toasted bread and assorted cheeses alongside a small helping of what little fish that didn't end up on Aunt Sonia's plate. Breakfast is often a quiet affair; Aunt Sonia doesn't have much opportunity to speak between shoveling food into her ravenous maw, and Uncle Callen likes to eat in silence to appreciate his meal. You don't mind that, not feeling particularly chatty in the brisk early morning cold, permeating the room despite the considerable heat emanating from the dying flames in the stove. The kitchen and living area are essentially the same room since there are no walls dividing them, making the room seem more expansive than it truly is. It's plenty roomy for you, though. At the opposite end of the room sits a small hearth and a few bookshelves, where Uncle Callen will sit and read with you on cold days, watching the roaring flames alongside you when he's finished, bundled up in a small mountain of furs and cushions--there's a long couch for you both to sit on, of course, but sometimes the floor is simply unbeatable for reading. Aunt Sonia prefers her chair--made specially for her as a gift from a carpenter she'd helped out a few years back--for reading her own books; ones she says you're too young for. That suits you well enough, Uncle Callen's books are so fun! Conversely, Aunt Sonia isn't really one for reading to you. She prefers spending time roughhousing or playing games, or lets you watch her cook with you acting as her "underling" as she calls it, in the kitchen. You like handing vegetables over and sitting on the countertop as she expertly prepares your next meal. Cooking's one of her //favourite// things, yet the kitchen //isn't// her favourite room. No, that would be the training room, on the third and highest floor of the house. Aunt Sonia tells you that houses in Sola and other Risen Cities are built taller rather than wider because there isn't much space on the ground nowadays, but there's plenty in the sky. Because of that fact, everyone builds up rather than out. Though, you //do// have a small yard behind the house as well. A small door beneath the wooden stairs leads to it, where you can find a small outdoor training area and a selection of plants and vegetables that are being grown--for multiple purposes, not just food. Some of the things you grow are even used in //potions//! The training room is wide and sparse, save for a few racks of wooden (and real, albeit //very// blunted) weapons that Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen like to train with. They let you watch sometimes, provided you stay well away from all the action. You're allowed to swing a little training sword around yourself sometimes and, on rare occasions, they even have mock duels with you, pretending they're two unruly bandits and you're a valiant Bladeweaver capable of besting even the two of them. You'd never //actually// fight either of them for real, you insist, after mock-beheading them. Aunt Sonia does this with you more often than Uncle Callen, who usually sits and watches you playfight, chuckling idly to himself when you land a hit and Aunt Sonia tries not to say a naughty word as she clutches her knee. But you've noticed he's not really paying much attention, often with a distant look in his eye--when he doesn't catch you looking, at least. [[Truth be told, you prefer reading time. It's relaxing and quiet, something you favour over the excitement of 'training'.|Chap1Scene8][$chap1activity to "reading"]] [[Truth be told, you prefer playfighting in the training room. It's exciting, you're never bored like with a book and you love all the activity.|Chap1Scene8][$chap1activity to "training"]]

<<if $chap1activity == "reading">>Uncle Callen likes to read stories to you; tales of ancient heroes, dragon-riding knights from times when dragons still walked the earth, more lesson-laden stories that tell you things you already know, like not to go wandering off alone, or talk back to your elders, or do any number of things you <<if $volatile >= 50>>don't even do, ever!<<else>>usually don't even do!<</if>><<else>>You like to imagine You're a warrior of some old kingdom or a Bladeweaver, wielding a powerful Empyrean blade capable of felling even the //strongest// of demonkind. The most fun part is when Aunt Sonia or Uncle Callen (or both!) join in, playing into your simple fantasies which naturally always end with you as the victor. Aunt Sonia has voiced her objections in the past, stating it's unfair. You've told her that if she makes up the story next time, you //might// let her win.<</if>> You think on all of this as you hungrily power through your breakfast. You're handily outpaced by Aunt Sonia, of course, who's already deposited her eating utensils into a small basin of hot water for cleaning, heading up the stairs to get fully ready for-- Oh! You'd almost forgotten what's happening today! "Uncle Callen," you begin, "When are we going to the tailor's? And will we be able to go to Liz-" Uncle Callen knew what you were going to say almost as quickly as you did, it seems. He makes a "Hm.." sound in the back of his throat and quirks an eyebrow, giving you that look he always does when he's thinking of what to tell you, not denying or confirming anything //yet//. "If," he raises one big finger, "ye are quiet," he raises a second finger, "well behaved," he raises a third finger, "and, most importantly, tell yer Aunt Sonia that whatever ''horrific'' design she chose for her cloak is beautiful, I will try me best to get her to take us t'Lizzie's, alright?" <<if $volatile < 50>>You sit still, in a silent standoff against Uncle Callen, who still has those three fingers held up, steely grey eyes locked on to you. You know he's just being silly, but this is a genuine promise you have to make. You haven't been to Lizzie's in //ages// so you quite readily nod your head fervently, exclaming, "I'll tell her it's the best cloak //EVER// if we can go to Lizzie's! It's a promise?" Uncle Callen chuckles and shifts his fingers so his pinkie is the only one sticking up. He reaches over and holds it out for you to lock with your own, much smaller pinkie finger. You do so, of course.<<else>>You sit still, in a silent standoff against Uncle Callen, who still has those three fingers held up, steely grey eyes locked on to your own, trying to match his intensity. You know he's just being silly, but you're annoyed that this is a genuine promise you have to make. You haven't been to Lizzie's in //ages//, though, so your desire for a treat overrules your desire to disobey him, //this time//. You nod your head, having lost this battle, muttering, "I'll tell her it's the best cloak //ever// if we can go to Lizzie's. It's a promise, though!" Your eyes are pleading now, despite your best efforts to appear stern. Uncle Callen chuckles and shifts his fingers so his pinkie is the only one sticking up. He reaches over and holds it out for you to lock with your own, much smaller pinkie finger. You do so, grumblingly.<</if>> Uncle Callen speaks with the false accent of a noble. "Then the promise is made, $callenChild. I, Callen Edros, will take thee, young $firstname $lastname t'Lizzie's upon the completion of yer promise to me. Now go an' have a wash 'fore we set off. Don't want you stinkin' up Sunstrand, eh?" He flicks your nose playfully, earning a sharp look from you. You bolt from your seat back into your room, ignoring the distant call of "No running!" from Aunt Sonia's den as you scamper across the hallway to your own bedroom, in-between her and Uncle Callen's rooms. You splash some warm water, heated by a small enchanted stone in a little bucket, on your face, peering into a little glass mirror on a side table, getting a good look to make sure you've got all of your <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$skintone" autoselect>> <<option "pale" "pale">> <<option "rosy beige" "rosy">> <<option "warm beige" "warm">> <<option "medium beige" "medium">> <<option "olive" "olive">> <<option "tanned" "tanned">> <<option "golden brown" "golden brown">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "medium brown" "medium brown">> <<option "deep brown" "deep brown">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$skintone" autoselect>> <<option "pale" "pale">> <<option "rosy beige" "rosy">> <<option "warm beige" "warm">> <<option "medium beige" "medium">> <<option "olive" "olive">> <<option "tanned" "tanned">> <<option "golden brown" "golden brown">> <<option "light brown" "light brown">> <<option "medium brown" "medium brown">> <<option "deep brown" "deep brown">><</listbox>><</if>> skin wet before grabbing a little bar of scented soap and lathering up your hands, washing your face hurriedly and drying it on a clean cloth. Once you're done, you head back out, narrowly avoiding being picked up by Aunt Sonia once more by bolting down the stairs. You head for your little boots, right next to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia's far larger ones. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen, having finished his meal, comes over and helps lace them up for you. Aunt Sonia waits, standing straight with an uncharacteristic look of apprehension, though she's evidently trying her best to hide it. She has donned a more refined version of her usual garb; a crisp white cotton shirt, some thick high-quality black trousers and, as usual, her dark leather doublet vest, stark black and red, with slightly flared shoulders. A shiny little green pin, depicting a winged blade, rests on the left side of her chest, attached to the vest. She wears the vest unbuttoned, so a strip of her white shirt is visible down the middle. It comes to just above her belt, stiffly floating above her figure rather than hugging it, like most doublets might. You know the reason for this: the armour plates stitched into the vest's inner lining keep it rigid, both providing protection for her in any unfortunate event and giving her a more intimidating figure--as if she really needed it.<<else>>Aunt Sonia, having gotten fully ready, comes over and helps lace them up for you. She has donned a more refined version of her usual garb; a crisp white cotton shirt, some thick high-quality black trousers and, as usual, her dark leather doublet vest, stark black and red, with slightly flared shoulders. A shiny little green pin, depicting a winged blade, rests on the left side of her chest, attached to the vest. She wears the vest unbuttoned, so a strip of her white shirt is visible down the middle. It comes to just above her belt, stiffly floating above her figure rather than hugging it, like most doublets might. You know the reason for this: the armour plates stitched into the vest's inner lining keep it rigid, both providing protection for her in any unfortunate event and giving her a more intimidating figure--as if she really needed it.<</if>> [[At her left side, clipped to her belt, hangs a familiar sight.|Chap1Scene9]]

An Empyrean steel blade, Aunt Sonia's prized possession. It's housed in an ornate scabbard wrought from high-quality dark wood, with spiralling patterns carved into the surface inlaid with gold. The entire thing takes on a regal, almost delicate air, not reminiscent of Aunt Sonia herself //at all//. The scabbard is cut with slots that show the unique, turquoise-tinted steel itself inside. Since Empyrean steel doesn't tarnish, rust or grow dull, it's perfectly safe to leave exposed and lets anyone looking know that, even stowed away, it's the real deal. The sword itself, as you've seen countless times since Aunt Sonia likes to show it off, is known as a falchion; a single-sided blade, slightly curved and with a lethal cutting edge. It was specially made for Aunt Sonia when she graduated the academy, before you were even born, and is as ornately made as the scabbard it rests in. The sword's hilt is equally as intricately-crafted as the scabbard it rests in. Its crossguard is also made of Empyrean steel, curving slightly up towards the blade. Wrapped in red scale that Aunt Sonia once convinced you was from a dragon, but is definitely not, the hilt is just long enough to be held by two hands, if she so chose. In place of a traditional pommel sits a tiny recreation of a hawk's shrieking head, wrought from gold. Two tiny rubies take the place of the aureate avian's eyes. The guard and very base of the blade are adorned with gold embellishments in the same spiralling patterns as on the scabbard, which Aunt Sonia tells you depict the heavenly winds of the Goddess Ventol that guide a warrior in battle. You've seen her swinging it at training dummies, the blade passing through hay and wood as if it were water, dicing the fake people into pieces. Uncle Callen eyes the glittering scabbard and sword wearily, a look that you might give to some food you haven't tried before, or a stranger. "Are ye really takin' that, Sonia?" He sighs, already anticipating her answer. "If they're to know who I am, they'll need a sign. This is the sign." She taps the scabbard hanging off her hip gently, making the thing bounce a little with a dull ''clunk'' as the blade rattles around slightly inside. "Ye're wearin' a //badge//, lass. That's sign enough." His tone is light, but somewhat disbelieving. They've had these talks before, and Aunt Sonia pretty much always wins, allowed to take her sword basically anywhere she goes with you, except for that one time she accompanied you to a nursery group over Uncle Callen's fear that she might 'bisect the other mothers'. Aunt Sonia crosses her arms over her chest, leaning slightly on one leg. It does little to make her seem more intimidating than Uncle Callen, who towers at least a head over her, but makes her point quite clear; she isn't budging on this. "Alright," he holds his hands up placatingly, huffing amusedly, "you'll take yer big sword into the finest tailor's in all of Sola, an' ye'll make us look a right pair of fools." "We're a trio of fools, actually," Aunt Sonia quips, winking at you when you make to protest her dubbing of you as a fool, "and we'll be a //late// trio if we keep deliberating on my fuckin' sword. Let's go, Cal." //Finally,// You think. You're more than ready for the trip, even though the prospect of going to Lizzie's seems so far away. Uncle Callen jiggles a heavy key in the front door to your home, pulling the heavy wooden block open with a soft creak as the intense silvery lustre of the early morning sun floods through the wide, tall opening. He heads out of the door first, and Aunt Sonia follows, beckoning you to accompany them. [[So you do.|Chap1Scene10]]

Near instantly the lively, full sound of the early morning rush clashes against your ears, loud and confusing yet familiar to you--it's all you've ever known. Sola is //absurdly// busy during the day, even at the very crack of dawn. Horse and magic-drawn carriages alike roll on past, their heavy wooden wheels clacking on old cobblestone paths as they meander to their destination across narrow winding roads. The sound of horses' hooves clomping on the stone mixes with the muted mechanical whirring of the odd horseless carriage--a contraption powered by forces you don't yet understand. Town criers span the city, loudly proclaiming the latest news from the surface world and other Risen Cities; "Trouble at the north Mestirian border!" "Eruption beneath Igna!" "Groyton announces latest port building project! Projected to bring in new op-" Mostly boring stuff, so you just tune it out and focus on other things, like how //cold// you are, even bundled up in a woolen shirt and a woollen miniature of Aunt Sonia's vest. Speaking of, she looks perfectly fine in the crisp weather, acting as if it's the middle of Summer or something. She's so strange sometimes. Most of the other pedestrians are wearing thick coats with ornate little hats or hoods. Even Uncle Callen's bundled up considerably, wrapped in a thick grey jacket that reaches down to his thighs, buckled up to his neck. Today is decidedly //not// warm, despite the blazing sunlight that makes you squint as it barrels through the sparse clouds above Sola which offer little protection from its vicious rays. On cloudy days, the surface world below isn't visible at all, the fluffy layer of clouds below appearing more like an ocean of grey, stretching as far as you can see. A few months ago at the beginning of Summer, Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia took you to one of a few viewing areas, situated right on the very edge of the landmass Sola rests upon. They'd pointed out a few towns and cities that were visible, tiny pinpricks of light and life on an inky canvas that spanned wider than you could comprehend. You'd sat there with a dozen other families, bathed in the mild heat of a Summer night. Your thoughts are interrupted when Uncle Callen leans over and wraps his big hand around yours. "C'mon, $callenChild," Uncle Callen gestures for you to follow, "this way." All around you are tall buildings, houses and shops alike, towering high, four or even five floors dwarfing your comparitively stout home. You live on what's called Lumi Avenue, situated fairly close to the city centre and most of the more mercantile areas of Sola, as well as a short walk away from the Bladeweavers' Citadel. Barely visible on the not-so-distant horizon, it's a stout collection of towers and buildings, wrought of white marble and darker stone that juts out above the rest of Sola. You've never been inside--not consciously, Uncle Callen likes to tell you, but you'll be spending much of your life there one day. It houses their Sola headquarters as well as the training academy among other institutions. You skip a little as you try to keep up with the two of them, Aunt Sonia's hasty strides leading the way as you and Uncle Callen follow like baby ducklings. The streets are crowded even at this early hour. You're struggling a little, even as you grasp onto Uncle Callen's hand, to keep up in the rush of people. [[🐺+ Tug on Uncle Callen's sleeve for a piggyback. You can see so high above everyone else that way! (Stubborn -)|Chap1Scene11][$chap1piggyback to 3, $callenClose to $callenClose + 5, $stubborn to $stubborn - 5]] [[🦅+ Catch up to Aunt Sonia to ask for a piggyback. (Stubborn -)|Chap1Scene11][$chap1piggyback to 2, $soniaClose to $soniaClose + 5, $stubborn to $stubborn - 5]] [[You can handle walking on your own, albeit clutching Uncle Callen's hand. (Stubborn +)|Chap1Scene11][$chap1piggyback to 1, $stubborn to $stubborn + 5]] [[You want a piggy back, but you're apprehensive about asking either of them in the middle of this rush. (Cautious +)|Chap1Scene11][$chap1piggyback to 0, $cautious to $cautious + 5]]

<<if $chap1piggyback == 3>>You lightly tug on the sleeve of Uncle Callen's jacket, causing him to signal Aunt Sonia to stop and ask you what's the matter. "Could I have a piggyback?" You inquire, shuffling out of the way as a few people walk on past. "'Course ye can, $callenChild!" With that, Uncle Callen stoops low, still taller than you, and lets you clamber on to his back, little legs wrapped around his shoulders. His big hands rest on your legs, securing you like a heavy travelling pack. You smile down at the stream of now tiny people passing on by, waving to them and giggling when you get an exhausted wave or two back. With that taken care of, your little trio continues on towards the tailor's.<<elseif $chap1piggyback == 2>>You wrench your tiny hand free of Uncle Callen's, dashing ahead as fast as you can in order to reach Aunt Sonia and //not// be washed away in the tidal wave of morning commuters. You reach her, and grasp onto her sleeve tightly, which gets her attention, flinching slightly before realising it's just you, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. "Could I have a piggyback?" You inquire, shuffling out of the way as a few people walk on past. Aunt Sonia huffs amusedly from her nose as a bewildered smirk creeps on to her face. After a second she nods affirmatively. She stoops low, about your height now, and lets you clamber on. Your legs dangle over her shoulders and her hands wrap around your legs, securing you like a heavy travelling pack. You look back at Uncle Callen, his grey eyes watching you two with a twinkle of pride: of you or Aunt Sonia, you're not entirely sure. You smile down at the stream of now miniaturized people passing on by, waving to them and giggling when you get an exhausted wave or two back. With that taken care of, your little trio continues on towards the tailor's.<<elseif $chap1piggyback == 1>>You decide not to ask for any help getting around. Aunt Sonia always says it's good to try doing things without help as much as you can, so you'll follow her advice for today, at least for the walk to the tailor's--your legs might get tired on the walk back. You huff and puff as you try to keep up with the two of them.<<elseif $chap1piggyback == 0>>You decide not to ask for any help getting around, you don't want to disturb or slow down Aunt Sonia or Uncle Callen with how focused they seem to be with getting to their destination. You resign yourself to your fate for now, huffing and puffing as you try to keep up with the two of them.<</if>> <<if $chap1piggyback > 1>>[[After about ten minutes of piggybacking, you reach your destination.|Chap1Scene12]]<<else>>[[After about ten minutes of walking, you reach your destination.|Chap1Scene12]]<</if>>

Before you stands the (according to Aunt Sonia) ''legendary'' Sunstrand Tailor Shop, four storeys of splendour. You've visited once or twice, when Aunt Sonia has wanted to take a look at a particular item only to balk at its exorbitant price. The difference //today// is that the Bladeweavers are funding this piece; a commission for a shoulder cloak, the mark of a Master, so you can only assume she's visited on her own to sort out the details and everything. You know Uncle Callen's cloak well enough: it's worn on his left shoulder, a stark white on the outside, embroidered with a leaping wolf in glittering silver, with a fur lining on the inside to keep him warm. It's secured around his shoulders by a sturdy leather strap, adorned with a pin of Empyrean steel, just like Aunt Sonia's new one. He wears it whenever he's doing official Bladeweaver duties, whether that be with a fancy jacket for special occasions or his armor when he's venturing down to the surface for an assignment--you don't like when he wears the armour. Aunt Sonia hasn't told either of you what her cloak actually looks like yet, so you're curious about the end result--she's been excited about having a Master's cloak since before she even knew she was being promoted. <<if $callenClose == 55>>You hop down from Uncle Callen's shoulders with his help and sidle inside the tailor's, enjoying the blast of heat from inside as soon as the door is opened.<<elseif $soniaClose == 55>>You hop down from Aunt Sonia's shoulders with her help and sidle inside the tailor's, enjoying the blast of heat from inside as soon as the door opens.<<elseif $chap1piggyback <= 1>>You wait behind Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen as they open the door, sidling in behind them inside the tailor's, enjoying the blast of heat from inside as soon as the door opens.<</if>> The inside of Sunstrand is //modern//, to say the least. Clean white wood panels with elaborately carved motifs line the walls, from which hang beautiful paintings of nature; skies, fields and flowers. The interior is adorned with wooden mannequins, posed expertly to show off the various dresses, doublets, vests and robes they're wearing. A waft of lavender pervades the entirety of the room, noticeable but not so intense that you have to cover your nose, so you just stand there and sniff the pleasant perfume for a while as Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia idly look at a few pieces. You don't have long to admire the inside of the shop for long though, as your sniffing catches the attention of an attendant--a pretty young woman with neatly brushed brown hair and a permanently busy look to her face who quickly approaches your group. "A good morning to you," she catches a glance of Aunt Sonia's blade, glinting dangerously as light from the outside catches a part of it through the shop's window, "l-lady Bladeweaver. May I ask your name and the purpose of your visit?" The young woman clasps her hands politely over her chest, fiddling with her own fingers nervously. "It's Wierszy, I'm here for my cloak. Filippo upstairs?" She grunts, already tapping her foot impatiently. A flash of recognition passes across the attendant's face, "Oh of course, ''Lady Wierszy''! Right this way, you needn't bring your," her gaze flits to you and Uncle Callen for a moment, "companions." With that point made, Uncle Callen decides to take you to look at a few pieces--not that you'll probably ever buy anything from here, but pretty clothes are nice. The attendant then turns and struts towards a set of stairs, leading upwards, presumably to the other areas of the shop where the clothes are actually made. You idly wonder if it's as fancy as the rest of the place. Aunt Sonia makes to follow her, but stops and asks "Oh, how'd you know I was a Weaver, anyway? Just curious." She smirks at Uncle Callen for a moment, whose eyes narrow suspiciously. The attendant smiles cordially, "Empyrean steel is hard to miss, Lady Wierszy." Her smirk grows a little wider, "I ain't a lady. Master'll do." "Of course, Master Wierszy." The attendant responds evenly. The two women continue on upstairs, but Aunt Sonia looks over her shoulder at Uncle Callen and sticks her tongue out childishly. You suppose she was right, in the end. You giggle a little as Uncle Callen huffs in defeat. [[Next|Chap11Scene13]]

It's easy to grow at least //somewhat// bored as the wait in the showroom turns from five minutes to ten to fifteen. You and Uncle Callen can only look at beautiful dresses and uncomfortable shoes for so long. The strange looks from the customers aren't helping either; you know Uncle Callen's pretty tall and looks out of place here but do they have to ''stare''? <<if $stubborn > 50>>You huff and tug on Uncle Callen's sleeve. "Can't we just go upstairs to see her or something? This is //boring//."<<else>>You get Uncle Callen's attention so he stoops low and listens. "Could we go and see Aunt Sonia upstairs?"<</if>> Uncle Callen considers your idea for a moment then takes you over to another attendant, a wiry older man with so little hair on his head he might as well shave it all off. "Uh, good mornin', might we take a trip upstairs t'check on the cloak fitting for Wierszy? <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>The $callenChild here is her $parentChild and I'm a fellow Master. Wouldn't hurt ta offer some advice, eh?" He smiles charmingly, or at least tries to.<<else>>"I'm a fellow Master. Wouldn't hurt ta offer some advice, eh? I'll keep a close eye on the $callenChild, too." He smiles charmingly, or at least tries to.<</if>> The attendant's eyes narrow. "Very well. If the $child causes trouble, you will be thrown out with haste, Master or no. Lady Wierszy is on the third floor with Signore Altore." He nods his head at the stairs, motioning for you and Uncle Callen to ascend them. "C'mon, $callenChild, with me." He grabs your hand once more and you accompany him up the solid wooden stairs, running your hand across the polished banister which squeaks a bit since it's so smooth. Once you arrive on the second floor, you catch a glimpse of absolute //chaos// from inside, tailors running around frantically, carrying scraps of fabric and string. "Glad we ain't goin' in there. Eh, $callenChild?" You look up at him, a goofy smile partially obscured by his scruffy beard--which doesn't matter since there's a smile in his eyes too, corners crinkled in amusement. You nod definitively and tug him along up the second set of stairs to the third floor. [[Arrive at the third floor|Chap1Scene14]]

If the first floor was cosy and the second floor was chaotic, the third floor would certainly be a comfortable middle ground between the two, with employees rushing around but at a more languid pace, less akin to a frenzied hive of bees and more like a colony of ants--organized and quick. <<if $cautious > 50>> You stick close to Uncle Callen<<else>> You tug on Uncle Callen's hand, pulling ahead<</if>> as you navigate past the employees of Sunstrand, who seem to ignore the fact that a huge man and a child are walking through, dressed in clothes put to shame by even the half-finished pieces they're stitching together. The room is spacious and airy, a more neutral scent compared to the thick perfume of the first floor. You can't tell where from, but the light, soothing plinking of a harp reverbarates throughout the space like it's being played from //everywhere//. "Room must be charmed to play the music." Uncle Callen remarks, seemingly as interested as you are in the omnipresent melody. You aren't left to consider for long as a commanding yet humourful voice catches both of your attentions. "You would be correct, my lofty acquaintance! Such a calm cadence contributes to one's concentration!" You both turn to the source of the voice; a relatively short man with olive skin, expertly styled black hair and a moustache so curly it almost touches his nose alongside a little beard poking down from his chin. His wild dark brown eyes hold a glint of something you can't really describe, a sort of earnestness or drive to look at //everything// all at once. To you, he just looks a little bit wild. If it weren't for his resplendent outfit, comprised of a stark white doublet, drowning in gold trim with some black silken breeches complete with similarly white boots with //wings// on the top, he'd just look like a crazy man. You can tell he's someone important here, though. His long, graceful strides take him ever closer to your pair, shifting past the busy workers like they're hardly even there and almost dancing with the way he bobs and weaves between them. He arrives in front of you and takes a deep, serious bow. "Charmed to meet you, Master Callen Edros, and you, young $firstname $lastname." "How'd ye know ou-" "A man ought to know those he serves! A man named Filippo Altore would not be worthy of such a name if he did //not// know the names of the gentleman and the young $honorific who step into his workshop. Indeed, he would be no man at all, no proprietor of this fine establishment if he //hadn't// known you, and what a shame it would be if he wasn't running //this//!" He claps his hands once, quickly, and throws his white-sleeved arms out, gesturing to the entire workshop. None of the other people seem to notice the loud noise or his shouting, busying themselves with their own work, so you assume they must be used to it. "Well met, then!" Uncle Callen holds his hand out to shake. He shakes //everyone's// hands. The man, Filippo Altore, clasps it with two gloved hands and jolts up and down rapidly, turning Uncle Callen's arm into a blur but doing little to move the rest of him. Rather, he just smiles through his rough grey-brown beard. "Indeed, I am, and a great many more things, such as quite //vexed// with the good lady Wiesrzy." He leans in close and whispers that last part into Uncle Callen's ear, as if she might hear from wherever she is. "Her requests and changes have been pressing, to put it in terms most simple. A more exacting client I may never find again during my remaining forty or so revolutions in this plane of living." Uncle Callen huffs a short laugh, more equal parts surprise and amusement. "She's a handful, t'say the least." "Indeed, she is. A handful that brought out the best in us, I must admit. I am confident you will be pleased with her piece, as I already know she is. Yes, //most// pleased, truly." Filippo looks prideful, if a little frazzled and exhausted. "Please, do follow me. I must ask the lady Wierszy if she wishes for her piece to be viewed yet, and if my assistants are still alive." [[Follow Filippo|Chap1Scene15]]

As you follow the two men, Filippo points out a few pieces that are being worked on. "That one," he points to an absurdly long white dress, its iridescent white silhouette accented by sections of beautifully detailed lace pieces in the form of feathered wings that wrap around the shoulders, bust and waist, "is a piece commissioned by Lord Darion Maren for his good Lady wife Peima, ready for the Winter festival. A beautiful peace, no? We were inspired by descriptions of the Ascendant from scripture. Beautiful beyond compare and entangled in wings. An angel, some would say--as the good Lord Maren wishes for his beloved, I am certain." Uncle Callen hums as he looks the dress over. "I believe the two've just welcomed their second child. I'm no fashion expert but it looks comfy, eh $callenChild?" It's definitely shiny, you think, peering at the glittery white wings that enwreathe the silken surface of the dress beneath. "Another Bladeweaver project," Filippo says, pointing out a half-finished armoured vest of dyed green leather, "for a young knight Eloise down in Alposa. Charming young lady, //obsessed// with armour, and, quite frankly, off-puttingly tall. Such an article is not normally produced in my workshop, but the materials were provided by a lovely armorer in the Western district." You reach a sectioned off area of the room, where a shuffling can be heard from behind some privacy screens. "Watch your fuckin' hands!" "My apologies, Lady So--" "//Master// Sonia, for the last time!" Filippo taps on the privacy screen once. "The HELL do you want?!" Her voice bellows out. He winces a little, and responds, "Master Wierszy, your companions are here, perhaps you would be favourable to showing them the finished piece?" "They're not finished fitting it yet, or some shit. How much //fitting// does a damned shoulder cloak need, Callen?" Uncle Callen chuckles. "I'm not sure meself, Sonia. My cloak was made by one man down in Carrefo in about five days, since I was made Master in the field. He put it on me and told me to f--um, go away." "That's not ... helpful..." The shuffling from inside continues for a moment, before Aunt Sonia growls in frustration and throws the privacy screen aside, giving you both your first ever looks at her cloak. It's ... just black? [["That can't be it!" You exclaim. There has to be more to it. (Patient --)|Chap1Scene16][$patient to $patient - 10]] [[You wait with bated breath. Aunt Sonia wouldn't wait this long for a simple black cloak. (Patient ++)|Chap1Scene16][$patient to $patient + 10]]

<<if $patient < 50>>"That //can't// be it!" You exclaim, your voice shrill with disbelief. Behind you Filippo giggles knowingly but Uncle Callen is similarly disbelieving. He crosses his arms and scrutinizes the cloak as you do the same. Aunt Sonia wears a private little smile as the two of you look at the black cloak.<<else>>You hold a breath in as you look behind you at Filippo and Uncle Callen, the former of whom giggles knowingly and encourages you to take a closer look. Uncle Callen crosses his arms and scrutinizes the cloak as you do the same.<</if>> Upon closer inspection the cloak isn't as simple as you'd thought. The piece itself, which hangs on her left shoulder, draping over her chest a little bit and following the line of her left arm before tapering to a point just below her hip, is exceedingly high-quality. It's secured around her shoulders by a large piece resembling a collar, made of black leather and tied shut with string in the middle. Thick velvet lines the cloak's exterior, with embroidered patterns of gusts of wind--the same as her sword's scabbard!--flowing down from her shoulder across the entire surface of the cloak, stitched in glossy silk thread. The entire thing is ''meticulously'' textured--it's no simple black cloak up close. Then, with the flair of someone totally unlike her, Aunt Sonia flicks the cloak back, so it's folded over her shoulder now with the entire thing draping down her back. She turns her torso so you and Uncle Callen can see easier. If the exterior of the cloak was textured then the inside would be positively //brimming// with detail. The majority of the surface is made from crimson silk, stitched to the other side of the cloak with gold thread which glitters as the light catches it every now and then. Embroidered across the surface, as she holds the cloak out for the two of you to see easier, is a depiction wrought from threads of silver, gold, red, orange and yellow, of a wolf chasing a golden hawk, set against the lowering sun. Uncle Callen gasps quietly, his eyes turning slightly glossy and unfocused when you turn to check that he's alright. "You like it?" Aunt Sonia questions, looking more than a little bit hopeful that you'll both say yes. She's trying to hide it, obviously, but one look at her eyes and the little smile, so rare on her face, tells you all you need to know. [[🦅+ "It's amazing!" And you mean it. (Honesty ++)|Chap1Scene17A][$honesty to $honesty + 10, $soniaClose to $soniaClose + 5]] [[🦅+ "It's amazing!" You don't mean it, but it's not worth hurting Aunt Sonia's feelings over. (Honesty --)|Chap1Scene17A1][$honesty to $honesty - 10, $soniaClose to $soniaClose + 5]] [[🦅- "Why is it so boring?" You don't particularly like how simple it is, even with the vibrant interior. (Honesty ++)|Chap1Scene17B][$honesty to $honesty + 10, $soniaClose to $soniaClose - 5, $volatile to $volatile + 3]] [[🦅- "Why is it so boring?" You actually do like how it looks, but you're not about to tell her that. (Honesty --)|Chap1Scene17B1][$honesty to $honesty - 10, $soniaClose to $soniaClose - 5, $volatile to $volatile + 3]]

<<if $currentChapter == -1>>Menu<<elseif $currentChapter == 0>>Prologue<<elseif $currentChapter == 1>>Chapter 1<<elseif $currentChapter == 2>>Chapter 2<<elseif $currentChapter == 3>>Chapter 3<<elseif $currentChapter == 4>>Chapter 4<<elseif $currentChapter == 5>>Chapter 5<<elseif $currentChapter == 6>>Chapter 6<</if>>

[[Your Character]] [[Relationships]] [[Codex]] <<link "Help">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Help"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Guide").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>

<<if $currentChapter ==-1>><div id="header-text">Who are you?</div><<elseif $currentChapter >= -0.5>><div id="header-text">The Courier</div><<elseif $currentChapter == 0>><div id="header-text">The Cargo</div><<elseif $currentChapter >= 1>><div id="header-text">The Child</div><<elseif $currentChapter >= 3>><div id="header-text">The Apprentice</div><<elseif $currentChapter == "6.5">><div id="header-text">The Bladeweaver</div><</if>> Name:<<if $currentChapter == -1>> You have no name.<<elseif $currentChapter == 0>> Whatever name you had is gone, along with your parents.<<elseif $currentChapter == -0.5>> It doesn't matter.<<else>> Your name is $firstname $lastname, ward of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen Edros.<<elseif $mentor == "Sonia">>Sonia Wierszy.<</if>><</if>> Age: <<if $currentChapter == -0.5>>You are twenty-four years old.<<elseif $currentChapter == 0>>You're less than a day old.<<elseif $currentChapter == 1>>You're five years old.<<elseif $currentChapter == 2>>You're eight years old.<<elseif $currentChapter == 3>>You're ten years old.<<elseif $currentChapter == 4>>You're twelve years old.<<elseif $currentChapter == "4.5">>You're newly thirteen years old.<<elseif $currentChapter == 5>>You're sixteen years old.<<elseif $currentChapter == 6>>You're eighteen years old.<</if>> Born a child of Winter, your birthday lands on the 23rd of Moro, near the beginning of the year. Physical description: <<if $currentChapter == -0.5>>If you could look in a mirror you're sure you would remember.<<else>>You have $skintone skin, with $eyecolour eyes and a head of $hairtexture, $haircolour hair. <<if $currentChapter >= 4>>You wear it $hairlength and $hairstyle.<<else>><</if>><</if>> <div id="header-text">Personality</div> <<link "//View the meaning of your personality descriptors here.//">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("What do they mean?"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("PersonalityDescribe").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> <<if $currentChapter == -0.5>>The person you were is long gone.<<else>><div id="subheader-text">Patient/Impatient</div> <<if $patient >= 45 and $patient <= 55>>You are neither patient nor impatient.<<elseif $patient >= 56>>You are moderately patient.<<elseif $patient >= 75>>You are very patient.<<elseif $patient <= 44>>You are moderately impatient.<<elseif $patient <= 25>>You are very impatient.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Volatile/Calm</div> <<if $volatile >= 45 and $volatile <= 55>>You are neither volatile nor calm.<<elseif $volatile >= 56>>You are moderately volatile.<<elseif $volatile >= 75>>You are very volatile.<<elseif $volatile <= 44>>You are moderately calm.<<elseif $volatile <= 25>>You are very calm.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Optimistic/Pessimistic</div> <<if $optimistic >= 45 and $optimistic <= 55>>You are neither optimistic nor pessimistic.<<elseif $optimistic >= 56>>You are moderately optimistic.<<elseif $optimistic >= 75>>You are very optimistic.<<elseif $optimistic <= 44>>You are moderately pessimistic.<<elseif $optimistic <= 25>>You are very pessimistic.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Chivalrous/Dishonourable</div> <<if $chivalrous >= 45 and $chivalrous <= 55>>You are neither chivalrous nor dishonourable.<<elseif $chivalrous >= 56>>You are moderately chivalrous.<<elseif $chivalrous >= 75>>You are very chivalrous.<<elseif $chivalrous <= 44>>You are moderately dishonourable.<<elseif $chivalrous <= 25>>You are very dishonourable.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Honest/Dishonest</div> <<if $honesty >= 45 and $honesty <= 55>>You are neither honest nor dishonest.<<elseif $honesty >= 56>>You are moderately honest.<<elseif $honesty >= 75>>You are very honest.<<elseif $honesty <= 44>>You are moderately dishonest.<<elseif $honesty <= 25>>You are very dishonest.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Stubborn/Yielding</div> <<if $stubborn >= 45 and $stubborn <= 55>>You are neither stubborn nor yielding.<<elseif $stubborn >= 56>>You are moderately stubborn.<<elseif $stubborn >= 75>>You are very stubborn.<<elseif $stubborn <= 44>>You are moderately yielding.<<elseif $stubborn <= 25>>You are very yielding.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Cautious/Confident</div> <<if $cautious>= 45 and $cautious <= 55>>You are neither cautious nor confident.<<elseif $cautious >= 56>>You are moderately cautious.<<elseif $cautious>= 75>>You are very cautious.<<elseif $cautious <= 44>>You are moderately confident.<<elseif $cautious <= 25>>You are very confident.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Cold/Warm</div> <<if $cold >= 45 and $cold <= 55>>You are neither cold nor warm.<<elseif $cold >= 56>>You are moderately cold.<<elseif $cold >= 75>>You are very cold.<<elseif $cold <= 44>>You are moderately warm.<<elseif $cold <= 25>>You are very warm.<</if>> <div id="subheader-text">Sarcastic/Serious</div> <<if $sarcastic >= 45 and $sarcastic <= 55>>You are neither sarcastic nor serious.<<elseif $sarcastic >= 56>>You are moderately sarcastic.<<elseif $sarcastic >= 75>>You are very sarcastic.<<elseif $sarcastic <= 44>>You are moderately serious.<<elseif $sarcastic <= 25>>You are very serious.<</if>><</if>> <<if $currentChapter >= 3>><div id="header-text">Your Equipment</div><<else>><</if>> <div id="header-text">Physical Prowess</div> <div id ="subheader-text"><<link "Agility: $agility">> <<set Dialog.setup("Agility")>> <<set Dialog.wiki("How fast and acrobatic you are. Affects checks that require you to move quickly or do physical activities.")>> <<set Dialog.open()>> <</link>></div> <div id="subheader-text"><<link "Strength: $strength">> <<set Dialog.setup("Strength")>> <<set Dialog.wiki("Your pure, raw strength of body. Affects your endurance, how hard you hit and the weight of objects you can move.")>> <<set Dialog.open()>> <</link>></div> <div id="subheader-text"><<link "Instinct: $instinct">> <<set Dialog.setup("instinct")>> <<set Dialog.wiki("The quickness of your body's natural reflexes. Allows you to avoid potential obstacles and react to fast opponents.")>> <<set Dialog.open()>> <</link>></div> <div id="subheader-text"><<link "Finesse: $finesse">> <<set Dialog.setup("Finesse")>> <<set Dialog.wiki("Your hand-eye coordination and precision. Allows you to be more subtle in certain situations and pull off manoeuvres most people aren't capable of.")>> <<set Dialog.open()>> <</link>></div> <div id="header-text">Mental Prowess</div> <div id="subheader-text">Intelligence: $intelligence</div> The measure of your overall smarts and wit. This affects your ability to problem-solve and pass knowledge checks. <div id="subheader-text">Charisma: $charisma</div> The measure of your natural gravity and ability to charm others. This affects your ability to persuade others or potentially avoid combat situations. <div id="subheader-text">Martial: $martial</div> The measure of your combat prowess, outside of your standard weapon training. This affects your ability to fight with unique weapons or use unorthodox martial techniques, which could give you the edge in combat-focused situations. <<if $currentChapter >= 7>><div id="header-text">Special Skill</div><<else>><</if>>

"It's //amazing!//" You exclaim, wide eyes taking in the entire thing. Aunt Sonia's stance is proud, her chin raised at your awe-filled words. She looks like a Royal Knight, or a //proper// hero! The red interior of the cloak adds an air of regality to the mysterious darkness of the rest of it, which lies heavily across her shoulder, draping down her back, catching the barest glimpse of light in the inky, glossy threads when she moves as if a living shadow were perched on her shoulder. "You think so?" Aunt Sonia preens, her little smile turning into a grin at your enthusiasm. Uncle Callen steps forward and joins in the praise: "It's //beautiful//, Sonia. All that waitin' was well worth it." [[Next|Chap1Scene18][$soniaCloak to "likeTruth"]]

"Why is it so //boring?//" You can't help it, even if your words evidently sting a little. Aunt Sonia remains prideful though, instead focusing on Uncle Callen's reaction which is more positive. It just looks so //dull!// Why would anyone wait so long and get so excited over a cloak that's basically just black? Most people will never even see the interior! "It costs nothin' to be kind, $callenChild." He reprimands you. "It's //beautiful//, Sonia. All that waitin' was well worth it." [[Next|Chap1Scene18][$soniaCloak to "dislikeTruth"]]

"It's so //amazing!//" You exclaim, faux-wide eyes taking in the entire thing. Even though you're telling a lie, Aunt Sonia's stance is proud, her chin raised at your seemingly awe-filled words, despite the dishonesty behind them. It just looks so //dull!// Why would anyone wait so long and get so excited over a cloak that's basically just black? Most people will never even see the interior! "You think so?" Aunt Sonia preens, her little smile turning into a grin at your apparent enthusiasm. Uncle Callen steps forward and joins in the praise: "It's //beautiful//, Sonia. All that waitin' was well worth it." [[Next|Chap1Scene18][$soniaCloak to "likeLie"]]

"Why is it so //boring?//" Your words evidently sting a little, even if they aren't true, but Aunt Sonia remains prideful, focusing on Uncle Callen's reaction which is more positive. She looks like a Royal Knight, or a //proper// hero! The red interior of the cloak adds an air of regality to the mysterious darkness of the rest of it, which lies heavily across her shoulder, draping down her back, catching the barest glimpse of light in the inky, glossy threads when she moves as if a living shadow were perched on her shoulder. "It costs nothin' to be kind, $callenChild." He reprimands you. "It's //beautiful//, Sonia. All that waitin' was well worth it." [[Next|Chap1Scene18][$soniaCloak to "dislikeLie"]]

Aunt Sonia looks more than slightly sheepish at the high praise from the older Master, brushing a hand over the stupendously detailed surface of the cloak before replying with, "Thanks, Cal. It's been a long time coming." "That it has, Sonia. That thing'll turn heads once you start at the Academy proper. Ye're gonna make Archer jealous with that black-on-black thing it's got goin' on." Her smile turns wide and smug at that. "Good." Filippo claps sharply, shuffling into the conversation like it's a crowded room. "I do //hate// to have to end your time with us prematurely, Master Wierszy, but Sunstrand is, hm, popular, to say the least. As much as I hate having to send you off, I would hate disappointing another customer more. I trust everything is to your design?" Aunt Sonia huffs: a satisfied, humoured sound, and claps Filippo on the shoulder which makes him stumble a little, already making to leave with you and Uncle Callen close behind. "It's been a pleasure, Filippo. Can't say I'll ever buy anythin' //myself//, but this is top fuckin' work. I'll be sure to recommend you to my friends that have proper money, of course." "Your social patronage is much appreciated, more than you could imagine! I bid you farewell, Bladeweavers!" Filippo calls out as you're already at the stairs. "What an odd man." Uncle Callen ponders as the three of you head back down the stairs, "Who wears boots with //wings// on 'em?" "A man with impeccable tastes, Cal. I'd never wear them but I respect his courage." "Seems t'me he's likely never left Sola. He'd find 'imself mocked an' robbed for them in that exact order on the surface. See how //courageous// he is then, eh?" He chuckles. You sense the conversation is coming to an end as you all leave Sunstrand and emerge back into the cold pandemonium of the street, so you take the opportunity to tug on Uncle Callen's sleeve. You whisper into his ear, "Can we go to Lizzie's now?" <<if $soniaCloak == "dislikeLie">>He grumbles quietly, whispering back, "Ye broke yer promise, $callenChild. //If// ye apologize to Aunt Sonia, and share with her after we've gone, we can still go. Understood?" The prospect of having to share with Aunt Sonia, who is prone to snatching treats away when you aren't looking then acting innocent when called out on it, is daunting, but a few sweets is better than none, so you nod dejectedly. "Go an' apologize to her, as well." The lie you told earlier is coming back to bite you, it seems. You grumble but don't really have anything to say, not wanting to reveal that you actually //did// like the cloak. "Sorry..." You mutter. "Sometimes ye've just got to swallow your words, $callenChild. Kindness can be better'n honesty, more often than not." You take a moment to consider this. "I guess so. Alright, I'll say sorry and share with her //if// we get to go!" He smirks. "Deal." With that said, you rush over to Aunt Sonia, who eyes you suspiciously. [[Next|Chap1Scene19]]<<elseif $soniaCloak == "dislikeTruth">>He grumbles quietly, whispering back, "Ye broke yer promise, $callenChild. //If// ye apologize to Aunt Sonia, and share with her after we've gone, we can still go. Understood?" The prospect of having to share with Aunt Sonia, who is prone to snatching treats away when you aren't looking then acting innocent when called out on it, is daunting. However, a few sweets is better than none, so you nod dejectedly. "Go an' apologize to her, as well." "I didn't want to lie!" You balk. "Sometimes ye've just got to swallow your words, $callenChild. Kindness can be better'n honesty, more often than not." You take a moment to consider this. "I guess so. Alright, I'll say sorry and share with her //if// we get to go!" He smirks. "Deal." With that said, you rush over to Aunt Sonia, who eyes you suspiciously. [[Next|Chap1Scene19]]<<elseif $soniaCloak == "likeTruth">>He nods affirmitavely. "Of course, $callenChild. Since ye were so enthusiastic about the cloak, I'll even get ye extra, how's that sound?" You don't even know what to ''say'' about that! You almost jump in the air for joy, giddy with excitment. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" With that said, you rush over to Aunt Sonia, who eyes you warmly. [[Next|Chap1Scene19]]<<elseif $soniaCloak == "likeLie">>He nods affirmitavely. "Of course, $callenChild. Since ye were so enthusiastic about the cloak, I'll even get ye extra, how's that sound?" You don't even know what to ''say'' about that! You almost jump in the air for joy, giddy with excitment. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" That lie you told has paid off, it seems. With that said, you rush over to Aunt Sonia, who eyes you warmly. [[Next|Chap1Scene19]]<</if>>

You really hope she didn't hear any of what you and Uncle Callen were talking about. The little pitter-patter of your footsteps ends as you come up to her left side, glancing up at her past the satin surface of her new cloak. "Hi, Aunt Sonia!" You put on your best imitation of the charming grin you've seen shop owners do when selling something to her. "Hi yourself, $firstname. What d'you want?" She's //already// caught on? How does she even do that?! "Um, not much. Could we maybe possibly go to Lizzie's now? It's not far, and since it's morn-" "You don't need to sell it to me, kid. Sure, we can go now. If your Uncle Callen's alright with it." She glances up and behind her to check with him, receving a simple nod in response. "That settles it, then." <<if $soniaCloak == "1a" or $soniaCloak == "1b">>"Oh," you almost forgot to apologise for what you'd said about her cloak earlier, "I'm //really// sorry for saying your cloak's boring, I won't say it again! You can even have some of my sweets from Lizzie's if you want." Her eyes narrow. "Half." You purse your lips. That won't do. "Quarter!" She bows her head in defeat. It's probably the only time she's ever lost to someone in your mind. "You're a shrewd negotiator, kid. Fine, I'll only take a quarter." "What's shrewd mean?" "It means ''you''". She ruffles your hair before you have chance to duck away and chuckles.<<else>>"Yes!" You're jumping in the air for the second time in just a few minutes. "I'm havin' some of your stuff, though. I'll be buying it." "Only a few bits!" You're turning serious, now. It's no laughing matter for Aunt Sonia to take some of your sweets with how liberal you know her to be with her use of the term 'some'. She bows her head in defeat. It's probably the only time she's ever lost to someone in your mind. "You're a shrewd negotiator, kid. Fine, I'll only take a handful." "What's shrewd mean?" "It means ''you''". She suddenly throws her cloak out around you, trying to trap you within its satiny, brightly-coloured confines. You're just barely able to dodge the surprise attack with a yelp, so she settles for ruffling your hair.<</if>> Behind you, Uncle Callen speaks up for the first time in a while, his rumbling voice startling you. "Now that's sorted, t'Lizzie's, is it?" You and Aunt Sonia answer at the same time. [["Yes!"|Chap1Scene20]]

You now seem to be the de-facto leader of your little trio as you tug on Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia's hands, placed between the two of them rather than simply following, to guide them towards Lizzie's. You basically know the way there, but you know it's sensible not to run ahead<<if $volatile >= 50>>, as much as you may want to.<<else>>.<</if>> Along you go, crossing stony roads and maneuvering past groups of fancy nobles, <<if $cautious < 50>>stumbling every now and then in your eagerness to just //get there//. You wish you were bigger, like your two companions who have no issue with stepping over those small imperfections in the pathway.<<else>>taking care not to trip on any out-of-place sections of the pathway, ones that might trouble your little feet but prove no issue to your larger companions.<</if>> <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$chap1Personality" autoselect>> <<option "You smile and chatter the whole way there, wringing your hand out of one of your protector's every now and then to wave to people whom you recognize. You tend to be an extroverted $child." "extrovert">> <<option "You keep a tight grip on Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen's hands, occasionally ducking your head shyly when someone who recognizes the three of you says hello. You tend to be an introverted $child." "introvert">><<option "You stay focused on getting to your destination. Sometimes you'll greet someone who recognizes the three of you or chat for a moment but you generally stay quiet. You tend to be neither introverted nor extroverted." "ambivert">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$chap1Personality" autoselect>> <<option "(Extroverted) You wave and chatter at people the whole way there." "extrovert">> <<option "(Introverted) You keep a tight grip on their hands, shying away from people's eyes.." "introvert">><<option "(Ambivert) You smile at people's greetings, but otherwise don't react much." "ambivert">><</listbox>><</if>> Far above you, the soft magical whine of the Channels persists; substantial steel cables woven along the sides of buildings, criss-crossing between streets to reach as many places as possible. Otherwise, they're held up by large, sturdy wooden supports. The cables peek above even the highest red-roofed buildings, enchanted to carry messages, be they spoken or written, from house to house. Considered the pinnacle of Risen Functional magic, the Channels are a staple of the Risen Cities and make communication over long distances a mere triviality. They have started to be adopted on the surface too, you'd once heard Uncle Callen talking about it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. When a message is passed along a Channel, it flashes purple for a moment, the light travelling along the cable like a fish down a river. You'd been able to use one once, when Uncle Callen let you write a message from him to Archer - who doesn't live at all close to you, so communicating via Channel is the best way to talk to them. A flash of violet light overhead accompanied with a muted 'whoosh' tells you a new message is travelling across Sola right now, far swifter than any messenger bird or person could travel. [[Next|Chap1Scene21]]

<<nobr>><<nobr>><<set $numberOfSweets to 0>><<set $chap1Sweets to 0>><<set $chap1Chocolate to 0>><<set $chap1Doughnut to 0>><<set $chap1Fruit to 0>><<set $chap1Shortbread to 0>><<set $chap1Nuts to 0>><<set $chap1Cake to 0>><<set $chap1ChocFruits to 0>><<set $chap1Wafers to 0>><<set $chap1BoiledCandy to 0>><</nobr>><</nobr>>After maybe ten minutes of hurried walking, the familiar sight of Lizzie's comes into view and <<if $patient < 50>>you break free from Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia, dashing ahead to get to the bright yellow doors as quickly as possible, safety be damned. "Who said it was alright to run off, $firstname?" Aunt Sonia chides once she's reached up with you, opening the doors anyway but tutting at your insistence to get in. <<else>>you hold on to Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen's hands the whole way there until you're through the bright yellow doors.<</if>> A little bell attached to the door jingles as you enter, signalling your arrival to anyone in the shop. You already know the layout of Lizzie's perfectly--it is a simple one. You skip over to a set of sturdy wooden shelves which hold an assortment of heavy glass dishes, piled with various sweets, pastries and confectionaries. Fresh fruits, wafers, boiled sugar sweets, chocolate-coated fruits, cakes, nuts and seeds, shortbreads, doughnuts, pancakes, jars of syrups, honeys, jams and various spreads adorn every shelf in the place, with a bakery lining the back edge of the shop, in front of a set of stairs leading up to a room you've never been to - it must be where they make most of the sweets. "Good morning!" A high, clear voice rings out from behind the bakery shelf. Soon after, a face you know well pops up from behind a row of golden bread. <<if $chap1Personality == "extrovert">>"Hi, Lizzie!" You peep, grinning at the tall lady who grins right back.<<elseif $chap1Personality == "introvert">>"Hello..." You mumble under your breath, offering a quick glance of acknowledgement to the tall lady who grins at you.<<else>>"Hi, Lizzie." You respond, smiling at the tall lady who grins back at you.<</if>> "How do you do, $firstname?" She always speaks to you formally, which is odd but can sometimes make you feel grown-up. <<if $chap1personality == "introvert">>You smile shyly and nod to signify that you're alright, glancing around at the veritable //trove// of treats for you to browse.<<else>>"//Really// good, now!" You respond, gesturing wildly with your little arms at the veritable //trove// of treats for you to browse.<</if>> Lizzie just smiles in response, leaning over the counter a little as she watches you look around with kind brown eyes. However, when Aunt Sonia strides over to her she straightens up a little as a startled look passes over her freckled face. Lizzie pushes a stray strand of black hair behind her ear before striking up a conversation. "A good morning to you, Lady Sonia..." She speaks a little shakily, like she's reciting the words from a sheet but isn't quite sure of how to sound them out. You get that: reading's tough. "Mornin', Liz. Save the 'Lady', though. I'm a newly minted Master. Take a look!" She's wasting no time in showing her cloak off, it seems. She turns so Lizzie can take a proper look at the piece, and she does. Lizzie 'oohs' and 'aahs' as her glance passes over the cloak, taking in its features as Aunt Sonia flips it around dramatically. "It's lovely, Sonia. I must admit I'm not one for fashion, working here," she stutters a little, "b-but it's a lovely piece and I'm sure you're happy with it, though!" She adds quickly to the end of her sentence. "You'd best believe I am, having spent the past few days in gods-damned Sunstrand to get it perfect." "So," Lizzie begins, once more brushing some of her hair back habitually, "am I supposed to call you Master, now?" Aunt Sonia looks slightly taken aback but leans forward on the other side of the counter and raises an eyebrow, responding: "If you like." Lizzie giggles in surprise as if she hadn't expected that, and a bit of pink tinges her pale cheeks. "Alright then, Master Sonia. I must say, I never really saw you as the lady type, anyway." She realises her mistake quickly. "N-not that I meant to imply you were un-" Aunt Sonia shushes her, "I knew what you meant, Liz. Thanks," She winks and pushes herself up and off the counter with force. "I'm gonna take a look at what you've got in, I'm gonna be sharing with the $child and old Cal there if he gets peckish later." She gestures to Uncle Callen, who's currently examining a particularly large chocolate cake, completely oblivious to the conversation. You crinkle your nose as she approaches you. "What were you and Lizzie talking about? She was being //weird//. So were you." You scrunch your face up to emphasize your confusion. "Nothing to worry yourself over, $firstname. C'mon, do you want to take a look at something together?" [[You're not convinced, but you want sweets more than answers. "Alright!"|Chap1Scene22]]

<<if $soniaClose > $callenClose>>Aunt Sonia elects to look around with you, hoisting you up from under your arms to get a better look at the goodies you aren't tall enough to see yet. She's almost as interested in the food as you are, licking her lips at a particularly appealing jar of lemon candy. "I think I've found what //I'm// having, at least."<<elseif $callenClose >= $soniaClose>>Uncle Callen hoists you up before you can even protest, cradling you in his arms like a baby which you //vehemently// object to, but you can't deny that it's easier to see stuff from here, like a jar of lemon candies that Aunt Sonia stares at like, well, her next meal. "I think I've found what //I'm// having, at least."<</if>> Uncle Callen makes a disgusted face, the kind you make when you have to eat <<if $foodpref == "veggie">>meat,<<elseif $foodpref == "meat">>vegetables,<<elseif $foodpref == "both">>something you don't like,<</if>> but lets the comment pass. He ''really'' doesn't like lemons, you've learned. If there was ever any doubt, he confirmed it definitively one time when Aunt Sonia attacked him with one, trying to shove the sour yellow fruit into his mouth as he futilely tried to dash away, screaming more like a baby than an old man. "What do you think you're gonna pick, $firstname?" Aunt Sonia enquires, already bringing the shiny jar of lemon candy to the counter, much to Lizzie's amusement. "We usually hand out bags, Master Sonia." She clarifies, half-giggling. "The jar itself isn't for sale." "Oh, er ... sorry?" Her words are awkward but the way she says them betrays absolutely no self-consciousness. She just shrugs nonchalantly and grabs one of the aforementioned bags for herself and one for you. As for you, you're going to pick: <<if $chap1Chocolate == 1>>You've already picked out chocolates.<<else>>[[Some assorted chocolates.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1Chocolate to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1Doughnut == 1>>You've already picked out doughnuts.<<else>>[[A selection of freshly-fried doughnuts, crispy and still-warm.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1Doughnut to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1Fruit == 1>>You've already picked out some fruit.<<else>>[[An assortment of fresh fruit.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1Fruit to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1Shortbread == 1>>You've already picked out shortbread.<<else>>[[Some pieces of sweet, sugar-coated shortbread.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1Shortbread to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1Nuts == 1>>You've already picked out some assorted nuts.<<else>>[[A selection of peanuts, walnuts, pecan nuts and pistachios.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1Nuts to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1Cake == 1>>You've already picked out a slice of cake.<<else>>[[A slice of cake.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1Cake to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1ChocFruits == 1>>You've already picked out some chocolate covered fruit.<<else>>[[Various pieces of fruit coated in chocolate..|Chap1Scene22][$chap1ChocFruits to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1Wafers == 1>>You've already picked out some wafers.<<else>>[[Several pieces of sweetened wafer.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1Wafers to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1BoiledCandy == 1>>You've already picked out some assorted boiled candy.<<else>>[[Assorted boiled candies of various flavours.|Chap1Scene22][$chap1BoiledCandy to 1, $chap1Sweets to 1, $numberOfSweets to $numberOfSweets + 1]]<</if>> <<if $chap1Sweets == 1>>[[And that's all.|Chap1Scene23]]<</if>>

<<if $numberOfSweets == 9>>Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen go pale at the selection you've chosen. "Ye... ye want //all// of that, $callenChild?" Uncle Callen asks shakily, bearded face a picture of sheer disbelief. He's knelt on one knee, gazing directly into your steadfast eyes as if hoping you'll renege on your desire for the absolute most treats possible. Aunt Sonia's eyes are wide, partially covering her mouth with one hand to stifle a laugh. Lizzie just balks behind the counter. You can barely see them all above the pile of sweet goods you've gathered in your arms, carefully balancing pieces of cake and other solid goods on top of a mountain of nuts, fruit, sweets and chocolate. "Yep!" You nod up and down firmly, almost losing a handful of the aforementioned sweets cradled in your arms in the process. You went to a ''tailor's'' with them. You've //earned// this. "Well... //ahem//... I guess $they can have it all just this once? As a treat?" Aunt Sonia ventures, seemingly on your side here. "I ... I suppose so..." Uncle Callen admits defeat. "But! Ye can't have all of 'em in one day, $callenChild. Understood?" You nod your head again. This will last you at least two days if Aunt Sonia doesn't get at it, you're certain. She's got her lemon candies, after all. You bring your hoard of sugary goods to the counter and Aunt Sonia helps you bag it all up properly. Once done, she pays for everything, wiping a not entirely false tear from her eye when told the final price. "Well cheers, Liz. I'll be seein' you, hm?" She nods to the once more beet red shopkeeper, who's only able to respond with a hasty "mm hm!".<<elseif $numberOfSweets < 9>>"Is that everythin' ye want, $callenChild?" Uncle Callen kneels on one knee to be eye-level to you, or as close as he can get, at least. "Yep!" You nod up and down firmly, holding the sweets you've picked out in your hands. You skip over to the counter with Aunt Sonia who bags them up alongside her own lemon candies. Once done, she pays for everything. "Well cheers, Liz. I'll be seein' you, hm?" She nods to the once more blushing shopkeeper, who can only respond with a hasty "mm hm!".<<elseif $numberOfSweets == 1>>"Just one thing, eh?" Aunt Sonia smirks down at you. "Little $callenChild knows what $they likes, Sonia." Uncle Callen responds, smiling at the similarity between you and her: you only picked one thing each. "This is good!" You affirm. If you only like one thing, it makes sense that //all// of what you get would be that thing. You skip over to the counter with Aunt Sonia who bags your singular selection of goodies up alongside her own lemon candies. Once done, she pays for everything. "Well cheers, Liz. I'll be seein' you, hm?" She nods to the once more blushing shopkeeper, who can only respond with a hasty "mm hm!".<</if>> <<if $chap1Personality == "extrovert">>"Bye, Lizzie!" You call out, waving your hands at the shopkeeper, who waves back with a sweet smile.<<elseif $chap1Personality == "introvert">>"Bye, Lizzie.." You whisper, smiling at the shopkeeper as you give a little wave.<<elseif $chap1Personality == "ambivert">>"Bye, Lizzie." You smile up at the shopkeeper, giving her a wave.<</if>> "Enjoy! Don't have it all at once, $firstname!" She advises. "It tastes better when you savour it!" Uncle Callen picks up your bagged goodies and stuffs them into some assorted pockets in his jacket. He pats your head gently, gently running calloused fingers through the $haircolour strands for a moment before giving you a gentle push towards the exit. "C'mon, $callenChild. Just one more stop and we'll be homeward bound. Want some of this on the way back or do ye want to wait til' we're home?" [["Now, please!" (Patient --)|Chap1Scene24][$chap1EatNow to 1, $patient to $patient - 7]] [["At home!" (Patient ++)|Chap1Scene24][$chap1EatNow to 0, $patient to $patient + 7]]

The little bell rings again as the three of you exit. You say a silent goodbye to Lizzie's, not knowing //when// your next excursion might be and swearing to savour what you've got, <<if $chap1EatNow == 1>>even if that means only tucking into //some// of what you chose on the way to the markets.<<else>>even if it means waiting until later in the day to tuck into some of what you chose.<</if>> Aunt Sonia reneges her usual position as leader of the group to Uncle Callen this time in order to hang back and eat some of her candies<<if $chap1EatNow ==1>> with you.<<else>>.<</if>> "We should go there more often, Cal." She mumbles through a mouthful of lemon-y crunching as the three of you walk the relatively short path to one of Sola's few open markets. You must be running low on some things back at home. "Yeah!" You heartily agree, grinning even as Uncle Callen puts on his skeptical face. "Aye, 'long as you're paying. I'm not bankruptin' meself on //chocolate// or, even worse, those //horrid// lemon things." "You're just a sad old man with no taste." Aunt Sonia responds, crunching even louder and making a point not to look at him as she ignores his words. "You're supposed to suck 'em, Sonia." He chides. "Ye'll ruin your teeth." "How d'you know? You don't even eat them." She retorts, a smug grin emerging in-between loud crunches. "At least close yer mouth when ye're eating. You'll teach the $callenChild bad manners!" "Oi, $firstname. Don't do this." She looks down at you and crunches a little more before stopping, trying to eat the candies normally. [[🐺+ 🦅+ "You two are silly." Is all you have to say to that. You don't mean it, not really.|Chap1Scene25][$callenClose to $callenClose + 3, $soniaClose to $soniaClose + 3, $chap1Silly to 0]] [[🐺- 🦅- "You two are silly." Is all you have to say to that. You don't like it.|Chap1Scene25][$callenClose to $callenClose - 3, $soniaClose to $soniaClose - 3, $chap1Silly to 1]]

"Ain't we just, $callenChild?" Uncle Callen replies heartily. "It's better'n bein' serious all the time, though. You remember that, eh?" "Alright..." You respond<<if $chap1Silly == 1>>, not totally convinced.<<else>>. That makes pretty good sense to you. Who'd want to be serious all the time?<</if>> "Looks like we're here, <<if $agab == "male">>boys.<<else>>you two.<</if>>" Aunt Sonia points out the beginning of the market. If there weren't massive signs almost everywhere you could see advertising the weekly event, the large clusters of shoppers would clue you in to it instead. The market's a large collection of temporary stalls, each one with its own covering in case it rains as well as to protect from the sun. As the three of you prepare to enter, Aunt Sonia offers you her hand.<<if $soniaClose >= 50>> You happily grasp it, her strong fingers wrapping around the entirety of your smaller hand.<<else>> You shake your head softly. "I can walk on my own!" "This is for your safety, $firstname. It won't be for long." She's put on her stern voice, now. Far sterner than even her regular voice, it's one that invites no argument. "You can walk on your own in the markets once you're bigger." You grumble a little but hold your hand out in the end and let her strong fingers wrap around your smaller hand.<</if>> The markets of Sola are famously packed with all manner of intricacies - as is the case with most Risen Cities, being hubs of travel, tourism and trade in commodities. You spot a man and his apprentice--probably his son, judging by their identical ginger hair--selling weapons made in Vengard, a country in the south of Phanol - beautiful polearms with wavy blades, axe-heads and all manner of different piercing points that Aunt Sonia eyes hungrily but is pulled away from by Uncle Callen. "We know what we're here for, lass. Ye can visit on your own come next market day." "You're no fun, Cal." She pouts and keeps following him. "What d'we need, anyway?" "Just some more heating stones as well as a few bits from the grocer's. Vegetables an' that," Uncle Callen responds, "unless there's anything else we might need?" She thinks for a moment, scrunching her brow a little before shaking her head. "Comin' up empty on that front. I might remember as we take a look around." [[Next|Chap1Scene26]]

After a good deal more searching (helpfully, the layout of the market changes every week) for the first place you need to find, you arrive at your first stop: Catalina's Emporium, Magic Shoppe and Exhibit of Functional Curiosities. The aforementioned Catalina resides in the centre of her substantial stand, a circular hut that surrounds her on all sides beset with shelves of various trinkets, potions and enchanted items as well as books on the assorted facets of Functional magic--books on artifiction, enchantment, wards and much more. Aunt Sonia strides right up to the stall, shuffling past a few people who, upon noticing her very large sword and the greenish pin attached to her cloak, move out of the way as quickly as they can. You hang back with Uncle Callen as Aunt Sonia negotiates with Catalina--a brown-skinned woman with closely cropped black hair. She's a mage from Mestiria, a far-away country, who works closely with the Guild in Sola although she doesn't stay here all the time. She's a practitioner of what is known as Functional magic: Phanol's primary spellcasting method. It's an ability locked to someone's bloodline, and only a select number of people can perform it. The //other// portion of the magic-wielding population is looked less-favourably upon. From what little you know of them you can tell they're something people are afraid of. You've heard of the strange features they often have--scaly skin, cat eyes, even //horns// or tails and far more extreme changes that result in people calling them words like //monster//, //demon// or, as is most popular, Fallen, for the fact that their magic is seen as un-godly, and the Gods rose into the Heavens a long time ago. You've picked up quite a bit about the topic simply from listening to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia's idle discussions--apparently, they come up quite a lot in Bladeweaver work. All of the demons--the //real// demons that Bladeweavers are meant to deal with, Uncle Callen tells you, for he does not believe what people say about Fallen, were killed a long time ago in a period called the Age of Hunts, long before anyone you know was born, even Uncle Callen! [[Next|Chap1Scene26p2]]

<<if $chap1Religion == 0>>There has to be at least //some// truth to what people say about the Fallen for there to be this much fear about them, right? It can't all be lies, started in ancient times. Even still, you have doubts. You're told to judge everyone as an individual - so why now must you judge Fallen as a whole? It doesn't add up.<<else>>You can't bring yourself to believe what nations such as Telfrin say about the Fallen. They're just people, right? You're told to judge everyone as an invidual, not on the basis of what they look like or the people they belong to, so you'll do just that. They're //not// demons, not to you.<</if>> You're pulled quite quickly from your ruminations as a boy, perhaps a year or two your senior, shoves past you quite rudely. "//Move//!" He grunts, pushing you so that you would have fallen over, if it weren't for Uncle Callen being in the trajectory of your fall. You catch yourself on him and turn to the boy, who's already haughtily walking away with a man, likely his father. [[Oh, he's not getting away with that. Before Uncle Callen can stop you, you're dashing over to shove him right back. (Volatile +, Cautious -, Chivalrous -)|Chap1Scene28a][$chap1Boy to 1]] [[Oh, he's not getting away with that. You call out to him, "That's not nice!" (Chivalrous +)|Chap1Scene28b][$chap1Boy to 2]] [[Oh, he's not getting away with that. You'll get Uncle Callen involved rather than instigating anything yourself, though. "Uncle Callen, that boy PUSHED me!" You point him out with an outstretched finger. (Cautious +)|Chap1Scene28c][$chap1Boy to 3]] [[Before you know it, you're starting to cry. (Stubborn -, Volatile +)|Chap1Scene28d][$chap1Boy to 4]] [[It's not worth causing a scene over. You let the rude boy go. (Chivalrous +, Volatile -)|Chap1Scene28e][$chap1Boy to 5]] [[As much as you want to get back at the rude boy, you let it go. (Volatile +)|Chap1Scene28f][$chap1Boy to 6]] [[You let it go, worried about the consequences of causing a scene. (Volatile -, Cautious +)|Chap1Scene28g][$chap1Boy to 7]]

With that matter taken care of, the three of you quickly resume your journey through the market and grab the few supplies you needed from the grocer's--a stall run by a very large family that lives in Sola, the Hales. You know their youngest daughter, although not well. Their eldest son, Benjamin, is being scouted by a Bladeweaver Master after demonstrating promise with the blade. By the time you've all navigated your way out of the market and back home it's almost midday, the warm sun beaming down at you from the centre of the now clear sky. You squint as you look up, and Uncle Callen playfully covers your eyes with his hand. "Hey!" You squeal, swatting his big hand away. Not content with just covering your eyes, he swoops down and picks you up, maneuvering you so you sit on just one of his broad shoulders. <<if $callenClose >= 50>>You stay like that for the entire way home, perched on his shoulder<<if $chap1Piggyback == 3>> just like before.<<else>>.<</if>><<else>>You wriggle until he lets you down, content to walk the rest of the way home.<</if>> As you come back to the familiar faded green walls of the front of your home, Aunt Sonia pulls out a set of keys from her very full belt, jiggling them around in the lock to open the door. She enters first, with you and Uncle Callen not far behind. "What a day! Eh, <<if $agab == "male">>boys?<<else>>guys?<</if>> "Indeed." A new voice, calm and sickly-sweet, comes from the stairs. You yelp in surprise as Aunt Sonia's hand instinctively flinches to her sword, pulling it out halfway as Uncle Callen unceremoniously blurts out: "What the //FUCK//?" As your eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the stairs compared to the brightly lit centre of the room you catch sight of a figure, clad in fancy black and purple robes, lounging on the second-bottom step. They hold Uncle Callen's favourite cup in their ring-covered hand, in a fancy way not intended for the simple container. "Archer, you fuckin' //cunt//--" Aunt Sonia starts, but she's immediately interrupted by the sleek intruder. "I've been telling the two of you to buy a set of runelocks for this place, but you don't seem intent on listening." They spring up from the stairs, strolling over to the kitchen counter to deposit their empty cup--you lean over to sniff it. Smells like ... wine? "I must say, that is an excellent choice of cloak, Sonia dearest. You've done your best to convince me you had no taste over the past twelve years." Archer glances appreciatively at Aunt Sonia's sleek black cloak, which she carefully removes and hangs on the wall. "It seems I was wrong." "Keep your weird, smooth little hands away from it, Arch. I'm serious." She sneers, moving to lean against the wall. "Ye even locked it after comin' in, eh, Archie? That's some skillful lockpicking." Uncle Callen's voice is still high from his surprise earlier, though there's a vaguely proud tone to it now. "It's so utterly boring to know //everything//, Callen. A successful person diversifies their skillset as much as they can before their thirties. I hear you turn rigid and unwilling to learn after that." They sneak a glance at Sonia as they say this and earn a withering glare from her. "It also helps the guild to sell runelocks when potential customers understand how ... insecure, their mundane tools are." They add with a smile. "Waste of money, Arch. We don't need 'em." Uncle Callen replies. "We've got our locks right here." Aunt Sonia taps her now-sheathed blade and nudges her head towards Uncle Callen's own weapon, hung high on the wall in a shaded area: it's something he prefers to leave at home--quite unlike your aunt. Archer chuckles. "Yet the academy had them installed! How //odd// despite the fact there's certainly more Bladeweaver per square foot //there// than //here//." They stop for a moment, peering around at the diminutive size of your home. "... I believe. There are certainly more Bladeweavers there on any given day, at least. This place only has two and change, counting our baby Bladeweaver here." They wink at you, acknowledging you for the first time since you'd come in. "Good afternoon, $firstname. How fare you?" [[🪄+ You dash ahead and hug Archer tightly. They're the adult you know the most after Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia, and you love when they visit and take care of you.|Chap1Scene30][$chap1ArcherOpinion to "like"]] [[🪄- You stay where you are, giving a small, dismissive wave to Archer. They're not exactly your favourite. They're so odd.|Chap1Scene30][$chap1ArcherOpinion to "dislike"]]

<<set $volatile to $volatile + 5, $cautious to $cautious - 3, $chivalrous to $chivalrous - 3>>You dash ahead before Uncle Callen can grab you, ignoring his call to you and push the boy right back, causing him to stumble and topple over with a surprised sound halfway between a squawk and a yell. He lands with a dull thump and almost immediately scrambles up, red-faced and storms towards you. "//What was that for, you idiot?!!//" He yells, almost in your face now. You stand firm, matching his scowl with equal fervour. "You pushed me first! You deserved it!" The sound of footsteps from behind you tells you that Uncle Callen has arrived. "What do ye think you're //doin'//, $callenChild?!" The boy's father approaches as well, almost as red-faced as his nasty spawn. "He pushed me, Uncle Callen! You saw me fall on you!" The father of the boy speaks up, now. "Pfft. Your $child just threw my son to the ground. We demand an apology ''this instant''." Uncle Callen holds up his big hands placatingly. "I'm sure this can be resolved with an apology from both of the <<if $agab == "male">>lads."<<else>>kids."<</if>> He looks down at you, a stern look in his eyes so unlike him. "Apologize to the boy, $callenChild. Go on." "No, that won't do, I'm afraid. My son did no wrong, your little //cur// shouldn't have been stood in the middle of where everybody walks. It's $their fault $they decided to turn this into a scene, you evidently aren't disciplining $them as much as you ought to." "What'd you call $them?" Aunt Sonia demands, having bought what she needs, contained in a fancy velvet drawstring sack. She strides right up to the man's face and, despite his considerable height, he seems to shrink in her presence as his eye catches her Master's badge and the dangerous blade at her hip. "You, and your little shit, are gonna apologize to my $parentChild right fuckin' now before I cause a proper scene, //mate//." The man, once red-faced, is now quite pale, and babbles a little before admitting defeat. "I... I apologize for what I said. Go on, Andreas, apologize to the $child." "But //father//-" He clips the boy upside the ear, whispering furiously, "You will //apologize// now!" "Ow! I - I'm sorry..." He murmurs, rubbing at his now reddened ear and avoiding eye contact with you before his father roughly drags him away. Aunt Sonia kneels down to face you. "You alright, $firstname?" You nod. You did as she would, //never// let someone treat you like dirt, so you feel good, even if Uncle Callen seems not to entirely approve of the way you handled it. [[You feel a little bad for the boy, though. Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen would never ever hit you, so you can't even imagine what it would be like.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "empathy"]] [[You don't feel at all bad for the boy, though. He got what he deserved, in your eyes. Even if his father hit him, which Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen never do to you.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "deserved"]]

<<set $chivalrous to $chivalrous + 5>>Your voice is surprisingly clear and sharp over the bustling din of the crowded market, grabbing the attention of both the boy and his father, who turns around with the boy and strides right towards you. "Have you something to say, $child?" The father's voice is imperious and deep as he fixes you with the kind of look one might give to an animal on the street--cold and detached. The boy's expression is halfway between a scowl and a smug grin. Uncle Callen's apparently taken notice of your shouting too, now standing firmly behind you with a hand on your shoulder. He addresses the father, "G'morning, I'm Callen. What seems to be the problem, friend?" Before the man can even respond, you look up at Uncle Callen and half-shout, "That boy pushed me! I didn't even //do// anything!" Your pleading tone seems to work on him, the warm look in his eyes telling you that he believes you. Uncle Callen looks back at the father and scratches his beard a little. "Well, there don't seem t'be any real harm done, so my $callenChild would accept an apology from your boy and we can be done with it, is that fair?" "//Pfft//," the man breathes in disbelief, "my son did no wrong. Your $child was standing directly in the middle of where everybody walks. $theyF should apologize to //him//." Uncle Callen's eyes narrow a little and you feel his hand tighten on your shoulder, so you squirm a little before he realises what he's doing. He glances down at you apologetically for a moment before directing his attention back to the man, "Now, friend, I don't know who ye are, but my $child is five, had your lad pushed $themInformal to the ground $they might've got trampled, see? If he just apologizes we can be done with this whole business, eh?" "What's goin' on?" Aunt Sonia, seemingly done with her shopping, holding a fancy drawstring sack presumably full of some magical trinkets, arrives at the scene, giving the man and his son a curious yet guarded look. The man, about to reiterate what he'd said to Uncle Callen, suddenly notices her glittering silvery-green badge and the sword hung at her hip and blanches. "M-Master Bladeweaver, I hadn't known the $child was with you. We apologize, of course. Andreas, apologize to the $child." "But //father//!" The boy protests, but his father fixes him with a venomous glare. "You will //apologize// now!" He spits. The boy mumbles out his apology, refusing to make eye contact with you, "I'm sorry..." He's dragged away by his father before you can even respond. "What was that about?" Aunt Sonia asks, stooping down to get at your level. She seems to have no idea about what just happened. In her mind, she approached a man who ran away as soon as he laid eyes on her--an altogether common occurence, if her tales are to be believed. "That boy pushed $them into me, we were sorting it out, eh, $callenChild?" You nod fervently. "We tried to talk it out, but they weren't being nice..." Uncle Callen clasps your shoulder again and turns you to look at him. "What's important is that nobody was hurt, $callenChild. I'm proud of ye for not goin' and pushin' him right back, much as you might've wanted to." "Much as //I// might have wanted to..." Aunt Sonia mutters under her breath, standing up once more. You giggle, knowing how protective she is, but you admit it felt good to use your words instead of resorting to a fight. You can tell Uncle Callen's proud of you for speaking out. [[You feel a little bad for the boy, though. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia have never spoken to you like that, and you don't think they would unless you were really bad.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "empathy"]] [[You don't feel bad for the boy. He pushed you and could've hurt you, so you're not going to lose any sleep over how his father spoke to him, even if Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia have never spoken to you like that.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "deserved"]]

<<set $cautious to $cautious + 5, $>>"Uncle Callen!" You grasp onto his arm as you steady yourself on him after being pushed, "That boy," you point to the retreating duo, "//pushed// me!" Without a word, Uncle Callen puts a hand on your shoulder, leading you to the man and his son while loudly, calmly saying "Scuse me, friend!" to the man, trying to grab his attention. Evidently it works since he and his son turn around, the boy half-scowling, half-smugly smiling at you once he recognizes you. You stick your tongue out at him when you think Uncle Callen isn't watching. //He// started this, you bet he didn't expect you to get an adult involved, and your adult is definitely better at this stuff than his is, you think to yourself. "What might be the problem, good sir?" The man's words are polite but he sounds utterly disinterested, fixing Uncle Callen with the type of look someone would give to a filthy street animal (the kind you've seen Uncle Callen try to help often, so it's not the best look to give him). "Well," He scratches his rough, brown-grey beard, "my $callenChild, here has told me your boy pushed $them just a moment ago. Now, I'm sure it might've been an honest mistake, but we-" "//Pfft//," the man breathes in disbelief, "my son did no wrong. Your $child was standing directly in the middle of where everybody walks. Perhaps $they should learn where $they belong in the future, hm?" He's got a more subtle version of his son's smirk plastered on his face, thinking he's 'won'. Uncle Callen isn't so easily bested, though. "Do you teach yer boy t'be as kind as you, friend? The $callenChild is //five//. Children stand where they aren't supposed to, sometimes. It's no reason for other children t'be throwin' them around, eh?" "What's goin' on?" Aunt Sonia, seemingly done with her shopping, holding a fancy drawstring sack presumably full of some magical trinkets, arrives at the scene, giving the man and his son a curious yet guarded look. The man, about to completely ignore her to offer a rebuke to Uncle Callen, suddenly notices her glittering silvery-green badge and the sword hung at her hip and seems to rethink his words. "M-Master Bladeweaver, I hadn't known the $child was with you. We apologize, of course. Andreas, apologize to the $child." "But //father//!" The boy protests, but his father fixes him with a venomous glare. "You will //apologize// now!" He spits. The boy mumbles out his apology, refusing to make eye contact with you, "I'm sorry..." He's dragged away by his father before you can even respond. "What was that about?" Aunt Sonia asks, stooping down to get at your level with a fairly confused look on her face. She seems to have no idea about what just happened. In her mind, she approached a man who ran away as soon as he laid eyes on her--an altogether common occurence, if her tales are to be believed. "That man's son pushed $them into me but we were sorting it out, eh, $callenChild?" You nod fervently. "We tried to talk it out, but they weren't being nice..." Uncle Callen clasps your shoulder again and turns you to look at him. "What's important is that nobody was hurt, $callenChild. I'm proud of ye for talking to me about it before doin' anything and I'm proud of ye for not goin' and pushin' him right back, much as you might've wanted to." "Much as //I// might have wanted to..." Aunt Sonia mutters under her breath, standing up once more. You giggle, knowing how protective she is, but you admit it felt good to use your words instead of resorting to a fight. You can tell Uncle Callen's proud of you for speaking out. [[You feel a little bad for the boy, though. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia have never spoken to you like that, and you don't think they would unless you were really bad.|Chap1Scene29]] [[You don't feel bad for the boy. He pushed you and could've hurt you, so you're not going to lose any sleep over how his father spoke to him, even if Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia have never spoken to you like that.|Chap1Scene29]]

<<set $stubborn to $stubborn - 3, $volatile to $volatile + 3>>You glance at the boy and his father, rapidly blending in to the crowd and getting harder and harder to notice, as a lance of frustration, anger and something altogether //ugly// shoots through you. Before you even know what's happening there are tears, hot and wet, streaming down your face. You sniffle and try to wipe them away inconspicuously, but Uncle Callen takes notice before you can get away with it. "Oh, what happened, $callenChild?" His eyes are big and round, squarely focused on you as he bends down and wraps you in a hug. <<if $honesty < 50>>"S'nothing..." You mumble, not entirely convincing in your emotional state. You glance up at Uncle Callen to see if your lie worked, and the concerned line of his mouth tells you it evidently did not. "If you're cryin' about it, $callenChild, it obviously meant somethin' to you. What happened? You can tell me." You choke back another sob and shakily recount what happened. "This boy pushed me over and I-I nearly //fell//! And now he's gone so we can't even //do// anything about it.<<else>>You choke back another sob and shakily recount what happened. "This boy pushed me and I-I nearly //fell//! And now he's gone so we can't even //do// anything about it.<</if>> Your tear-streaked face is now beset with a frown, feeling a little bitter about the way things ended up. "At least you're alright, $callenChild, eh? That lad, whoever he is, can carry on bein' a nasty little thing an' some day he'll be humbled, even if not by you or me. He ain't worth your tears, that's for sure, $callenChild." "I guess so..." You mumble, not entirely convinced. Aunt Sonia calls Uncle Callen optimistic to a fault and sometimes you're inclined to agree with her. Speaking of Aunt Sonia, she arrives once more, seemingly done with her shopping and holding a fancy little drawstring sack presumably full of the magical trinkets she wanted to buy. "What's up, $firstname?" Her brow creases a bit with worry. "Have you been cryin'?" Uncle Callen answers for you. "A boy shoved $them. Long gone now, 'course." "What a pity." Aunt Sonia whispers to you, an amused yet dangerous glint in her eye that makes you chuckle a bit. You fully believe she'd shove a kid to the ground just to get back at them for you. [[And you'd like that. It'd be what he deserves.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetDeserved"]] [[As much as you wouldn't like that. It'd feel wrong and you'd certainly never want that to happen to you.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetEmpathy"]]

<<set $chivalrous to $chivalrous + 5, $volatile to $volatile - 3>>Any rebuttal or argument you might have for the boy fades as you realise it just wouldn't be worth the scene you might cause over it. Kids who push people aren't generally the nicest, you've gathered, and he wouldn't be likely to apologize to you for what he did. Uncle Callen looks down at you, a hint of concern in your eyes. "Y'alright, $callenChild? Did somethin' happen?" You nod reluctantly. "I'm fine. Someone pushed me, but he's gone now. I... didn't want to make a scene." You look up at Uncle Callen, a little ashamed. "Should I have said something?" He rests a big hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. "You should never be afraid o' speakin' up for yourself, $callenChild. But it's very noble of you not to want to cause anything. I know your Aunt Sonia wouldn'ta done the same." He chuckles. A noise from behind him grabs his attention. "Speak of the devil..." "And she'll knock your damned head off." Aunt Sonia quips back at him., clapping him on the back as he stands back up with a soft groan. She must be done with her shopping now, holding a fancy little drawstring sack in her hand, presumably full of the magical trinkets she wanted to buy. "How we doin'? Something wrong, $firstname?" "Someone pushed $themInformal, but $they's not too fussed about it, eh, $callenChild?" You shake your head. You didn't even fall, and it's better to just get on with your day rather than focus on the kind of people who'd push another person over simply for being in their way. "All's well, then." Aunt Sonia smirks at you, ruffling your hair. "Next time, you tell me though, yeah?" She holds out a hand for you to shake, so you grab it, flailing your arm up and down to seal the promise. You don't have to imagine what she'd do if she caught the boy who pushed you over. She'd likely do the exact same thing back to him. [[And you'd like that. It'd be what he deserves.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetDeserved"]] [[As much as you wouldn't like that. It'd feel wrong and you'd certainly never want that to happen to you.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetEmpathy"]]

<<set $volatile to $volatile + 2>>You scowl at the retreating form of the boy and his father, silently wishing that he'd trip and fall. Now //that// would be just incredible. Uncle Callen looks down at you, a note of concern in his voice, "Ye alright, $callenChild? Nearly fall over, eh?" "Yeah, but I'm okay! See?" You stand straight and gesture to your entire self as if there's something he could see about you that would //confirm// you're alright. "This //stupid// boy pushed me." You're back to scowling, and Uncle Callen's face twists a bit in concern. "Aye, I can, $callenChild. Oh! There comes your Aunt Sonia." He points out an approaching mop of ashen hair in the bustling crowd around the stall. "Everythin' alright?" She questions, noticing that your hair's a little mussed. She decides to mess it up even more, $haircolour strands flying around as she ruffles it until you push her off. "Someone pushed $themInformal just now. Long gone now, 'course. $theyF's pretty mad about it, aren't ye, $callenChild?" "Yeah..." You mutter, crossing your arms and refusing to look at him or Aunt Sonia. "Hey", Aunt Sonia's gruff voice grabs your attention as she crouches to be at your height. "Somethin' like a random little twat pushing you isn't anything to get mad over, kid." You giggle at her profanity but let her continue. "There's nothin' on this great green earth worth getting angry about right now, alright?" She tilts your head upward, one finger under your chin so you look her in the eyes. You nod reluctantly. "Okay..." "You don't have to get over it right now, $callenChild, but your Aunt Sonia's right." Uncle Callen offers, helping her up. "I usually am." She boasts, shrugging nonchalantly. You suddenly notice the fancy little drawstring sack she's holding, presumably full of the magical trinkets she'd bought from the stall. "We ready to move on, then?" Uncle Callen enquires, gesturing towards the direction you all need to go to get to the next stall for your groceries. As you're all walking, you overhear Aunt Sonia whispering into Uncle Callen's ear: "All I'm saying is that kid wouldn't do that shit if someone did it right back at him." You don't have to imagine what she'd do if she caught the boy who pushed you over. [[And you'd like that. Your anger isn't quite sated, so it'd be what he deserves.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetDeserved"]] [[As much as you wouldn't like that. It'd feel wrong and you'd certainly never want that to happen to you.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetEmpathy"]]

<<set $volatile to $volatile - 5, $cautious to $cautious + 3>>You steel your face and swallow any harsh words you might've had, content to let the issue go uncontested. You'd prefer not to cause a scene, worried about what might happen. Kids who push people aren't generally the nicest, you've gathered, and he wouldn't be likely to apologize to you for what he did. That's not to mention what his father might say. Uncle Callen looks down at you, a hint of concern in your eyes. "Y'alright, $callenChild? Did somethin' happen?" You nod reluctantly. "I - I'm fine. Someone pushed me, but he's gone now. I... didn't want to make a scene." You look up at Uncle Callen, a little ashamed with lingering fear still in your eyes. "Should I have said something?" He rests a big hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. "You should never be afraid o' speakin' up for yourself, $callenChild. But it's very noble of you not to want to cause anything. I know your Aunt Sonia wouldn'ta done the same." He chuckles. A noise from behind him grabs his attention. "Speak of the devil..." "And she'll knock your damned head off." Aunt Sonia quips back at him, clapping him on the back as he stands back up with a soft groan. She must be done with her shopping now, holding a fancy little drawstring sack in her hand, presumably full of the magical trinkets she wanted to buy. "How we doin'? Something wrong, $firstname?" She seems to notice your pensive expression. "Someone pushed $themInformal..." Is all Uncle Callen says. You nod your head softly, not looking at either of them. A tight knot forms in your gut, regret and dread mixing into a cocktail of something unrecognizable to you. "Hey", Aunt Sonia's gruff voice grabs your attention as she crouches to be at your height. "Somethin' like a random little twat pushing you isn't anything to get worked up over, kid." You giggle at her profanity but let her continue. "There's nothin' on this great green earth me and your Uncle Callen can't make better for you, alright?" She tilts your head upward, one finger under your chin so you look her in the eyes. You nod reluctantly. "Okay..." "You don't have to be okay right now, $callenChild, but we'll always be here to help ye. Your Aunt Sonia's right." Uncle Callen offers, helping her up. "I usually am." She boasts, shrugging nonchalantly. You suddenly notice the fancy little drawstring sack she's holding, presumably full of the magical trinkets she'd bought from the stall. "All's well, then." Aunt Sonia smirks at you, ruffling your hair. "Next time, you tell me though, yeah?" She holds out a hand for you to shake, so you grab it, flailing your arm up and down to seal the promise. You don't have to imagine what she'd do if she caught the boy who pushed you over. She'd likely do the exact same thing back to him. [[And you'd like that. It'd be what he deserves.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetDeserved"]] [[As much as you wouldn't like that. It'd feel wrong and you'd certainly never want that to happen to you.|Chap1Scene29][$chap1BoyOpinion to "neverMetEmpathy"]]

For as long as you remember, Archer has been a constant in your life. From what Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia have told you, they were one of the first ever people to hold you as a baby. They're practically a third parent to you, even though they're not around so often anymore, owing to their busy role as a high mage. <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>You're not a fan of this change. Despite that, they //are// always available to take care of you on the rare instances that Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia aren't around. That's likely to be more and more often now though, since they'll both be working at the academy as Masters, training new students.<<else>>That suits you just fine. Annoyingly, they're somehow //always// available to take care of you on the rare instances that Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia aren't around, however. To make matters worse, this is now more likely to be the case, since they'll both be working at the academy as Masters, training new students<</if>> <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>You dash ahead and wrap your arms around their legs and, stood up as they are, they need to bend over a little to gently pry you off them once your allocated hugging time has been reached. <<if $chap1Personality == "extrovert">>"Hi, Archer! We went to the tailor's, and then Lizzie's, and then a boy //pushed// me at the market - oh, we went to the market too!" Their slender eyebrows raise in concern at that last part. "Something happened at the market?" Uncle Callen interjects, "It's all handled now, Archie. Don't go enchantin' anybody's water to taste like mud again." "I'd forgotten that one, thank you for reminding me." They level a thin smile, slyly showing a peek of their gleaming white teeth, at Aunt Sonia. She just rolls her eyes and heads upstairs. "I'm putting my shit away, I'll be down later." <<else>>You smile up at Archer, and they smile right back. "How has your morning been, $firstname? No monsters?" You giggle. "Nope, no monsters." You scratch your chin like you've seen Uncle Callen do when he's thinking hard, though you've no beard to scratch. "We went to the tailor's, then me and Aunt Sonia got some stuff from Lizzie's and then we went to the market." That's //basically// all that happened. "A boy pushed $them, too." Aunt Sonia interjects. "Little twat." She adds to the end of her sentence with a grunt. Their slender eyebrows raise in concern at that last part. "You were pushed?" Uncle Callen interjects, "It's all handled now, Archie. Don't go enchantin' anybody's water to taste like mud again." "I'd forgotten that one, thank you for reminding me." They level a thin yet toothy smile, almost wolfish, at Aunt Sonia. She just rolls her eyes and heads upstairs. "I'm puttin' my shit away, I'll be down later."<</if>><<else>>You give Archer a little wave, staying where you are. They give you a little wave back, the mimicking action making you grumble. "How has your morning been, $firstname?" Uncle Callen answers for you upon seeing your reluctance to speak to them. "We went to Sunstrand, Lizzie's and then t'market. Little $callenChild here had a run-in with a boy who pushed $them but we're past it now, eh, $callenChild?" You nod in the affirmative. He doesn't really know if you are or not, but it //was// a while ago. Their slender eyebrows raise in concern at that last part. "$theyF was pushed?" Uncle Callen interjects, "It's all handled now, Archie. Don't go enchantin' anybody's water to taste like mud again." "I'd forgotten that one, thank you for reminding me." They level a thin yet toothy smile, almost wolfish, at Aunt Sonia She just rolls her eyes and heads upstairs. "I'm puttin' my shit away, I'll be down later."<</if>> [[Next|Chap1Scene31]]

Uncle Callen invites Archer to sit down on the big couch with him, hanging his thick coat up before practically falling on the seat which creaks as he lands on it. Despite that, it holds firm. <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"I'll stand, thank you." They reply primly, instead opting to rather un-primly lean against the doorframe. They fiddle and twist a few of their shiny rings around their fingers. You take the chance to hop on the couch next to Uncle Callen, who glances at you with a soft smile before turning his attention back to the black-clad mage leaning against his door.<<else>>You dash ahead of them and hop on the seat before they even have a chance to answer. "Sorry, Archie. Looks like your spot's taken now! Ha!" Uncle Callen chortles heartily. "That's quite alright, I'll stand. $firstname looks like $they needs a seat anyway after $their long morning." They elect to lean against the front doorway instead, twisting a few of their shiny rings around their fingers. They're normally the one with a smug expression plastered on their face so it's a great turn of events for you to be able to turn that back on them.<</if>> "So," Uncle Callen leans forward slightly, placing his arms on his thighs and breathing in deep through his nose, "what brings you here, today? Was it too much t'ask you to come for the big party last night? I know ye got the invite, Archer." His use of their proper name, rather than his nickname for them (which they stress is not a nickname since it has the //exact// same number of syllables as their regular name) clues you in to the serious nature of their conversation. Uncle Callen's rarely serious, so you settle awkwardly into your spot next to him and wait to see what happens next. Archer dips their head placatingly. "I apologize for missing the party, though I imagine I wasn't exactly //missed//. From what your other mage friends told me this morning you had, well, a full house." At this moment, Aunt Sonia reappears, having shed her cloak and vest, her hair secured in a black bandana to keep it out of her face. "What we talkin' about?" "Oh, just about how very sorry I am for having missed the party last night. I trust it was enjoyable even without me?" "It was all the more enjoyable //for// your absence, Arch." One side of her mouth curls up in a half-smirk, and Archer smiles back. "And stop leanin' on my door." The smile drops, and Archer's follows as they lean forward off the doorframe, dusting their shoulder off haughtily. "Mm, well. You'll excuse my absence once you hear what I was looking into last night." Uncle Callen raises a thick eyebrow. "What is it, Archie?" They wait a beat, allowing the suspense in the room to build before answering his question. "I keep contact with various Bladeweaver cells across Phanol. It's a big continent, though, so this information might be out of date by, hmm... perhaps a week or so. Can't have Channels stretching five thousand kilometres //just// yet, unfortunately." "Get on with it, Archer. I'm going to die of old age before you're done." Aunt Sonia rolls her eyes so far back you think they might fall into her head. "Alright, alright. You have no patience, Wierszy. I hope this one," they point at you, "doesn't inherit that. As I was saying, a team operating in Mestiria were investigating disappearances in a town named Forra. They tracked the missing victims to a cave system and, well ... The victims had been ... petrified. Turned to stone." Your eyebrows shoot up. Should you ... //be// here, for this? Uncle Callen goes straight, eyes turning incredulous and wide at Archer's words. "C'mon, Archer. You can't be serious." Aunt Sonia huffs. "Can we go one week without you pullin' our legs?" "I speak truly, Sonia." They look at her directly, brown eyes unsually serious. "The rest of the Order is just finding out today, it's likely you'll //both// be called in to a meeting in the next few hours. I wanted to let you know first--my position in the Order lends me a certain advantage when it comes to messages and who sees them when. I've a truth serum, if you'd like me to take it." "That's ... alright. I believe you, Archie." Uncle Callen responds, waving his hand dismissively when they pull out a little green vial from an inside pocket of their robe. They put it back smoothly, like it'd never been pulled out. They continue, "Well, then you know what this implies. Mineral petrification is a symptom of only one beast: the basilisk, which is //supposed// to have been wiped out during the Age of Hunts, nigh on three hundred years ago. To further confirm this, the team even //found// one of the things and killed it. It's supposed to be on its way to Sola as we speak. This," they look away for a moment, glancing at the midday sun streaming through the window, as their characteristically sly disposition turns melancholy for a moment, "can only mean ''one'' thing." [[Aunt Sonia says it before anyone else can. "Demonkind is returning to Phanol."|Chap1Scene32]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia stands stone-still, locking eyes with Archer. Something in her seems to //flip// and, with a suddenness that makes you startle a little in your seat, says "$firstname, come on upstairs. The adults need to talk." She levels an unimpressed glance at Archer before helping you off the couch and guiding you to the stairs and up to your bedroom. "Is something wrong, Aunt Sonia?" You ask, the note of worry in your voice giving her pause as she's walking you to your door. She bends down and cups your face in one hand. "Everything's gonna be alright, $firstname. I promise. We just need to have a little chat with Archer, alright? They might be watching you today or tomorrow." <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"Yes!" You shout, giddily running into your room after hearing that. "Have fun with your adult talk!"<<else>>You groan moodily. "Do they //have// to watch me? They're so annoying!" "I know they are, trust me. But we all do stuff we don't like sometimes, but we've gotta do it. Can you cope with it for just one or two days, $firstname?" You're not impressed but there isn't much you could do to change this situation, so you reluctantly agree. "I'll just ignore them when they're being annoying..." Aunt Sonia huffs. "That's somethin' I could work on, too. Now go on and play, kid. We'll be done soon enough, alright?" You strop into your room. "Have fun with your //adult talk.//"<</if>><<else>>Uncle Callen shifts uncomfortably next to you on the couch, as if he's sat on a stone or something. He glances at Archer nervously, then stands up all of a sudden. "C'mon, $callenChild. Let's get ye upstairs while your Aunt Sonia and I have a chat with Archer." He helps you off the couch and guides you upstairs, taking you past Aunt Sonia who's focused on staring at Archer, an unimpressed frown curving her scarred mouth downwards. As you near the top of the steps, directly outside the door to his bedroom, you stop. "Is something wrong, Uncle Callen?" You ask, the note of worry in your voice giving him pause. He kneels down in front of you and wraps you in a soft hug, pressing your forehead into his burly shoulder. "Everythin's fine. I promise ye, $callenChild. All that's gonna happen is me and yer Aunt Sonia mightn't be here for a day or two, alright? Archer might be watchin' you." <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>You hurriedly unravel yourself from the hug. "Yes!" You shout, giddily running into your room after hearing that. "Have fun with your adult talk!"<<else>>You groan moodily and rip yourself from the hug. "Do they //have// to watch me? They're so annoying!" Uncle Callen grimaces, looking away from you. "I'll not deny that, $callenChild, but it'll only be for a day or two. You can manage that for us, right?" You're not impressed but there isn't much you could do to change this situation, so you reluctantly agree. "I'll just ignore them when they're being annoying..." He smiles proudly and rubs a hand over your head, shaking your entire body with the ruffling motion. "Good $callenChild. Go on an' play, now. We'll be done before ye know it." You strop into your room. "Have fun with your //adult talk.//"<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap1Scene33]]

You scamper over to your bed and reach under to pull out a wooden box, in which resides your favourite personal pastime... [[A set of assorted board games that can be played alone to test your problem solving skills. (Intelligence +)|Chap1Scene34][$chap1Hobby to "games", $intelligence to $intelligence + 1]] [[Various dolls and toys which let you act out random fantasies. (Charisma +)|Chap1Scene34][$chap1Hobby to "toys", $charisma to $charisma + 1]] [[A disassembled wooden training dummy with padding on the vital areas, made to be hit. (Martial +)|Chap1Scene34][$chap1Hobby to "dummy", $martial to $martial + 1]]

<<if $chap1Hobby == "games">>Board games are a personal favourite of Archer's, <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>which suits you well enough. You're suspecting that they let you win most of the time, but it's good fun regardless.<<else>>much to your chagrin. They definitely let you win, too. Why can't they treat you like a real opponent? You'd //destroy// them in chess, you're certain.<</if>><<elseif $chap1Hobby == "toys">>Uncle Callen likes to join in with your play sometimes, pretending to be a giant monster your miniature heroes might slay, or--in one rare and //riotously// funny case--a princess the aforementioned heroes would have to save from a monster. He's not very good at a princess voice, so he's been instructed not to do it again.<<elseif $chap1Hobby == "dummy">>Aunt Sonia watches you fight the dummy sometimes, offering small pointers on how to stand properly so you don't catapult yourself into the thing and cause an 'unexpected disassembly'.<</if>> <<if $chap1Hobby == "games">>You decide to pick out the chess board for today. Playing against oneself isn't exactly fun, but you enjoy figuring out how to beat //yourself//. It helps to refine your game and increase your creative thinking, or so Archer says. You'll take their word for it since they seem pretty smart. You line up all the pieces and get to work, slowly playing through a game all on your own, deciding which moves to take against yourself. Time seems to slip away as you chip away at the game so you decide to take a small nap on your bed, snuggling in to the worn cotton sheets cosily. At least it's warm up in your bedroom.<<elseif $chap1Hobby == "toys">>You pick out a few well-used wooden figures, painted in the designs of various mythical (or not-so-mythical) figures that you twist to fit the realms of your fantasy worlds. Today you think you'll be playing with Daegal the Black, a legendary hero from ancient times who slew //thirty// dragons! You've never even seen thirty of //anything//, you don't think. You smash one of your black-clad figures with a little greenish-silver painted sword against a large, stuffed dragon, sounding out battle sounds with your mouth as you make up whatever they're saying in your head. //Could dragons even talk?// you ponder, but eventually decide that, yes, they do. This one sounds like Aunt Sonia. Eventually though, the play becomes a bit boring and you're feeling a little sleepy from your busy morning, so you decide to take a small nap on your bed, snuggling in to the worn cotton sheets cosily. At least it's warm up in your bedroom.<<elseif $chap1Hobby == "dummy">>You hastily pull out the small wooden limbs and sections that make up the training dummy; the arms and legs, wrapped in soft leather, the sturdy little body, also padded generously with leather and--finally--the head, which has a snarky little grinning face painted on it in red by Aunt Sonia, to 'give you something to want to hit', apparently. Once the dummy's set up on its stand, standing a little taller than you, it's finally time to get to work. You stand like Aunt Sonia taught you to; hips squared and light on your feet, facing your opponent with your arms raised in front of your head to guard against any hits--not that this wooden dummy's going to come alive and hit you any time soon. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia once quite vehemently rejected Archer's offer to animate the dummy out of the fear that they'd somehow control it to torment the two of them in the middle of the night--which is a valid fear, you suppose. You'd beat it up if it ever hurt them though, so ''you'' weren't frightened. You throw a few solid hits at the dummy, fists and feet smacking softly against the leather padding. You even manage to reach a kick up to its wooden head, which spins around a few times. That makes the sudden stinging pain in your foot worth it to you. After a while of kicking or punching the dummy and practicing dodges and guards, you start to wear out a little, so you decide to take a small nap on your bed, snuggling in to the worn cotton sheets cosily. At least it's warm up in your bedroom.<</if>> [[Elsewhere...|Chap1Scene35]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Sonia's steps are surprisingly heavy as she descends the familiar stairs into the ground floor of the house. Archer and Callen have scarcely moved, the former still hovering near the door with an uncharacteristically solemn look on their face and the latter drawn into himself, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a hunched back. He's more looking at the floor than anything in //particular//, but Sonia's arrival draws his full attention. His eyes ask a silent question, one which Sonia is quick to answer by now; "$theyF's fine, just playing in $their room. Didn't even mention what //you//", she whips her head around to glare at Archer, "said, like a fuckin' idiot. Even I know not to say that kind of shit around a kid, Arch." Archer's face twists in indignation. "''You'' finished my sentence, Sonia. I didn't even mention //demonkind//, you did." The word //demonkind// is spoken with a whisper, as if $firstname might hear from upstairs. "Archie's right, Sonia," Callen looks sheepish when her ire is blasted right back at him. It's getting difficult for her to decide who to glare at, "you //are// the one who said it, truth be told." Sonia bristles for a moment, crossing the room in a few short strides and coming dangerously close to Archer. Behind her, Sonia hears the shifting of fabric and the creaking of wood as Callen tenses up on the couch. //Relax, old man,// she thinks to herself, //I'm not fucking crazy//. She doesn't bother to look behind her, steely gaze focused on Archer. Despite the meagre height difference between them, Sonia seems so much larger. Even still, Archer's stare is cool and collected as their brown eyes meet Sonia's green. "Admit fault. It is not so terrible to be wrong, once in a while." Sonia's harried breathing slows as the tension starts to leave her body. //I hate when you're right.// She takes a small step back. "Fuck you." Sonia whispers, more amused than anything. She takes a few deep breaths, in and out, before stepping back further. "Alright, I fucked up. My apologies." Her conciliatory expression is a rare one: rarer than her smiles, even.<<else>>Callen's steps are heavy as he descends the familiar stairs into the ground floor of the house. Archer and Sonia have scarcely moved, the former still hovering near the door with an uncharacteristically solemn look on their face and the latter with her back turned to Callen, facing the pale mage. Her expression is obscured, but the tightness of her shirt, drawn taut against the lithe muscles of her back and the white-knuckled grip on the counter's edge say plenty. As he sets foot on the floor of the kitchen, Sonia whips around to look at him, tracking the elder man as he takes a seat once more, clasping his gloved hands together. His gaze flits between the two who are still standing. Sonia speaks first. "Is $firstname..." "Aye, $they's fine. Playin' in $their room for now, though I expect $they'll be havin' a rest before long. It's been a hectic day." He chuckles, glancing at the bags of sweets that he'd almost forgotten about on the counter beside Sonia. She nods, her lips thinning in thought. "$theyF didn't say anything about ... //that//, did $they?" "No, lass. Not a word." She breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank the fucking Twelve, then. You can't just say that shit around a //kid//, Arch. Even I know that." Her ire is rounded on Archer now, as she strides around the counter to focus on the mage who hasn't moved since the revelation was made. Their face twists in indignation "''You'' finished my sentence, Sonia. I didn't even mention //demonkind//, you did." The word //demonkind// is spoken with a whisper, as if $firstname might hear from upstairs. "Archie's right, Sonia," Callen looks sheepish when her ire is blasted right at him, instead of Archer. It seems to him she's having a difficult time deciding who to glare at, "ye //are// the one who said it, truth be told." Sonia bristles for a moment, crossing the room in a few short strides and coming dangerously close to Archer. Callen tenses on the couch, wary of //something//, he's not even sure what, happening. //Old habits, Callen. Nothin'll happen,// he reassures himself. Despite the meagre height difference between them, Sonia seems so much larger. Even still, Archer's stare is cool and collected as their brown eyes meet Sonia's green. "Admit fault. It is not so terrible to be wrong, once in a while." For a moment, all Callen can hear is Sonia's harried breathing slowing as her shoulders stop moving up and down so quickly, and she takes a small step back. "Fuck you." Sonia whispers, more amused than anything. She takes a few deep breaths, in and out, before stepping back more. "Alright, I fucked up. My apologies." Her conciliatory expression is a rare one: rarer than her smiles, even.<</if>> Callen's quick to deescalate even further. "Shall we all jus' take a seat, eh? Talk this whole business out, properly?" He glances between Sonia and Archer sternly, his silent invite to sit turned into an order by the expectant look on his face. "Yeah, alright, Cal." Sonia rolls her eyes slightly but falls into her seat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back casually. Archer primly sits down next to Callen, who's now more comfortably sprawled out, trying to maintain space between them. "Though," he adds, "the $callenChild already knew what basilisks were from the stories we read, so it wouldn't have mattered much." Archer huffs indignantly, and he smirks at Sonia. "So, Archie. Tell us what ye know, eh? That can't be everythin' you've learned?" Archer nods slowly. "Naturally. I spent most of the early morning observing the Veil. Fluctuations are expected, of course, but for the past few months it's been particularly... //active// during nighttime, especially when it's a strong or full moon." Callen and Sonia exchange a shared look. They know what the Veil //is//, but not its importance in this regard. Archer seems to pick up on this uncertainty. "I might have thought two Masters would be more educated on these matters." They say with a sly smirk. That earns them a glare from Sonia and a snort from Callen, respectively. [[Next|Chap1Scene36]]

<div id = "header-text">Codex</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Locations]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[World History and Events]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Creatures and Terms]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Prominent Figures]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Organizations]]</div>

<div id = "header-text">Major Locations</div> <div id ="subheader-text">[[Phanol]]</div> <div id ="subheader-text">[[Liskiya]]</div>

"We're aware that the Veil, the aurora that spans the sky of Phanol at night, is a remnant of the Twelve's power, yes?" "We learned that as //children//, Arch. Even I did, without a noble upbringing, and I was $firstname's age. Keep going." Sonia responds huffily. Archer smirks lightly, "What a surprise to learn you're educated, Wierszy. Well, if the Veil is a signifier of their power in the world, what is it //doing// there? It is something scholars have been studying since, well, they //were// studying. The high mage Alexandre once posed the theory that it was a //barrier//, preventing their or the Thirteenth's return, since they left this plane of existence and dragged the vile beast right along with them." "I ain't heard anythin' about such a theory..." Callen mumbles, perplexion clear in his grey eyes, "Why're you tellin' us this?" Archer's expression morphs into a slight frown, so alien on their impassive face. "It... was not exactly a popular theory when it was posed, and Alexandre was nearly cast out of the guild for it while their work was censured and hidden away. However, times have changed since then, so I've taken it upon myself to resume the studies, using his old notes. Not an easy find, mind you." They mutter, displeasure at the ancient mage's guild clear on their pale face. Sonia snaps her fingers loudly. "Focus, Arch..." She chides. They roll their eyes dismissively, but can't stop their slight smirk. "The Veil was observed to be fluctuating, almost //vibrating// around the time that the first basilisk sighting was reported. To me, this at the very ''least'' confirms that the two may be related, if not directly linked in some way. Correlation is not always cause, but it //can// be cause for concern, you see." Sonia speaks up. "And this shit recently, with the Fallen ... Is that connected to it too? I nearly lost a fucking arm last month, bastard shot a //lightning bolt// at me. Feels like just last year most of them could barely make sparks," she frowns. Archer's brow knots in thought. "I've reason to believe the recent surge in the power of Willful practitioners might be connected as well. If the Veil were //weakening//, what could happen if it ''broke''?" A heavy silence permeates the room, the only audible sounds being the three occupants' breathing and the dulled clamour of the outside world, so oblivious to the ill omens being discussed. "Nothin' good, I expect." Callen responds, simply, a grim finality in his words. Archer swallows thickly, suddenly keenly interested in a bit of lint on the front of their robe. "Indeed." Sonia's teeth grind against one another. Her scowl grows by the second. "So the Order wants..." "Your service, yes. Naturally, the service of all Bladeweavers will be requested to combat the growing threat, as you'll find out later today--I simply wished to inform you ahead of time--but I don't imagine either of //you// will have much choice in the matter, owing to your ... predicament." Archer glibly gestures to each of their right arms, where hidden brands lie upon their skin, beneath Sonia's shirt sleeve on her lower forearm and under Callen's leather glove, on the back of his hand, respectively. Brands of Debt, willingly laid five years ago. Callen speaks as if in a trance, almost: "A debt is owed, eh?" "It is indeed, Master Edros." Archer smiles wanly, a flicker of sympathy in their cool brown eyes as their gaze shifts between Callen and Sonia, the latter of whom is stuck glaring at her hands, hunched over in her chair while tapping one boot incessantly on the cold stone floor. All of a sudden, she stands, barking out a short and clipped laugh as if trying to extract the merest drop of humour from the situation--it proves difficult. She itches her right arm feverishly and Archer looks on in concern as Callen eyes the action with a wary understanding. She almost //growls//. "Fuck it. We've killed enough people, right, Callen? Some stony fucking snakes aren't gonna be a problem." The itching just //stops//, as soon as she accepts the idea. "I ... admire yer tenacity, lass. Let's hope it's just basilisks we're dealin' with." Callen's voice is low and scratchy, a counter to Sonia's forced joviality--something she's never been particularly good at. He can always tell when she's putting an act on. She chuckles emptily. "Yeah, let's." "I expect that $firstname will be quite confused about this, as would most children..." Archer muses quietly, "Perhaps a small educational session is in order, to prevent the hysterical fear I witnessed from those five times $their age, earlier." "Why worry $them?" Sonia scoffs, looking befuddled. "If I could've gone my childhood without knowing some of what life will throw at you, I'd gladly take that option." Archer hums. "I think it wrong to lie about these things, is all. The truth, however sour, only becomes worse the longer it is withheld." "If it keeps the kid calm and happy, I'd deem it a necessary lie." She retorts. "Well, you're both quite familiar with //that//..." They mutter. Sonia frowns. "Something to say, Arch?" They sigh, shaking their head dramatically and jingling their silvery earrings. "Nothing you have not already ignored, Sonia dearest..." [[Next|Chap1Scene37]]

Archer clears their throat uncomfortably and stands, moving towards the door as they continue speak. "Well, all I've said will be repeated later today. I expect you'll receive a summons to the Citadel this afternoon. Should it be required, I'll gladly take care of $firstname for you, my presence is ... not required by the Order, it seems." The bitter edge to their words comes through, unbidden. "I would have liked to glean anything further from what the Order's in-house mages know, but I expect I already know as much as the high Council will allow me to as it is." <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"The $callenChild'll be thrilled, Archie. Thank ye." Callen responds jovially. Archer's lips tug up slightly before they can even notice. Sonia snorts. "Must be the only kid you get on with in Sola, huh?" "It's heartening to know that //somebody// in this household tolerates me, Sonia dearest, I don't intend to let that relationship collapse. I'll take my leave, for now. There's much to do aside from..." they take a deep steadying breath in, steeling themself for later in the day, "//child-watching//."<<else>>Callen chuckles conspiratorially. "Good luck with the $callenChild, Archie. Seems $they's inherited Sonia's dislike of ye. But... thanks. It's much appreciated, bottom of me heart, honest!" Sonia's face contorts in mock bewilderment. "I don't //dislike// you, Arch. I just find you as tolerable as eating glass." She says airily, curling her bottom lip and shrugging as if it's just a simple fact of life. "How charming," Archer responds, "and with that, I believe I'll take my leave, for now. There's much to do aside from..." they take a deep steadying breath in, steeling themself for later in the day, "//child-watching//." The words are laced with a latent dread.<</if>> Callen stands as well, walking Archer over to the door despite the fact they're only a few steps away already. "Well, Archie, we'll see ya later then, eh? Safe travels to wherever the hell you're goin'." He chuckles. "Your concern is appreciated, Callen." Suddenly, their face lights up with a mischievous grin. "Oh! And thank //you// Sonia dearest, for," they pull a handful of lemon candies out of their pocket, "these! A good afternoon to you!" They're out of the door before Sonia can even fully process the lemon-based theft. She balks for a moment, sputtering half-words and flailing her arms around, before settling on: "That ''fucking'' bastard! My //SWEETS!//" [[Hours later...|Chap1Scene38]]

You groggily lift your face from the plush, cotton covered surface of your duvet--why's it wet? You must've been drooling in your sleep. Wait--how long were you even asleep //for//? You glance at the window to your right, from your position on your belly. It's definitely a little less bright outside, the sun shining in through your window less intensely now than when you first went in here to play--though that's done nothing to hinder its warming effect--your back and hair are //so// warm! You're too busy thinking about that to even notice the two looming figures above you.<<if $cautious > 50>> Upon noticing them you start a little, feeling particularly vulnerable in your prone position, before realizing it's just Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen.<<else>> You wriggle around on the bed to get a better look, grinning up at them sheepishly. It's just Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, of course!<</if>> "I see you've been makin' good use of yer free time, $callenChild! Droolin' is the mark of a proper nap." Uncle Callen chuckles while Aunt Sonia snorts, fruitlessly trying to hide it. They both look tired--more tired than you'd last seen them, after you'd all gotten back in after shopping. //I wonder what happened//? "Don't say that, you'll embarrass $them, Cal!" She chides playfully, swatting him on the arm. Uncle Callen shrugs sheepishly. "Sorry, $callenChild, I'll not do it anymore." He doesn't seem very sorry, judging by the poorly masked smile that's only partially obscured by his beard. [[Scowl at them. What's the point in trying not to embarrass you if they're just going to make a joke out of it anyway? (Volatile +)|Chap1Scene39][$volatile to $volatile + 3]] [[Chuckle along. It is pretty funny, to be honest. You must really have needed that mid-day nap. (Volatile -, Optimistic +)|Chap1Scene39][$volatile to $volatile - 3, $optimistic to $optimistic + 3]] [[Shrug neutrally. You were tired. You'll own that. (Patient +, Volatile -)|Chap1Scene39][$patient to $patient + 3, $volatile to $volatile - 2]]

"Well, $firstname. We've some news to tell you, soon. But first let's eat, yeah? I bet you're hungry after your busy work up here." Aunt Sonia smiles down at your <<if $chap1Hobby == "games">>chess board and pieces strewn across your bedroom floor.<<elseif $chap1Hobby == "toys">>toys and dolls strewn across your bedroom floor.<<elseif $chap1Hobby == "dummy">>training dummy currently laid out on your bedroom floor after a particularly forceful punch.<</if>> As soon as she says that, your stomach decides it's a good time to grumble, signifying your evident hunger. With nothing else to say, you just nod vehemently. You //are// hungry. [[Three sets of laughter fill your bedroom, and you all head down for some much-needed food.|Chap1Scene40]]

//Later that night...// <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia leans hunched on the counter, a mug of cool ale clenched in her fist. She glares at nothing in particular, green eyes flitting from one feature of the quiet room to the next--a trinket-strewn shelf, a small collection of dust where she'd forgotten to clean a few times, one of $firstname's little boots that'd been tossed aside after $they'd gotten ready for bed. She puffs out a tired sigh, taking a long sip from the mug before setting it down and turning towards the stairs, leaning back with her arms resting on the counter casually. Her intense gaze follows the emerging shape of Callen as he carefully descends the wooden stairs, taking care to avoid creaking the problem steps he's familiar with. Once he's at the bottom, he flashes a weary smile at Sonia and takes a seat on the third step, big hands clasped in his lap. "$theyF asleep?" Sonia enquires, though she already knows the answer--Callen's capable of putting the kid to sleep even at $their most excitable. It's a strange sort of gift he possesses, one she's envious of, though 'motherhood' has always been something she's had to work towards, while Callen seemed to fit into the role he'd chosen as if it was molded for him. "Aye." Callen replies simply, quietly. "Was out cold in the first three pages of //Daegal's Destiny.// Must've been tired after a full day of <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>fun with Archie.<<else>>avoidin' Archie."<</if>> "Good reading, that." Sonia responds, smiling a barely visible smile as she grabs her mug again, peering for a moment into the dark liquid inside before looking back at the man. "Always loved it, though I couldn't read at the time." "Someone read it t'you?" "Yeah, uh ... Anna. Someone at the church'd taught her, before..." Her grip on the cup tightens as her eyes shift away from Callen. "You know." Callen keeps on looking at her, despite her reluctance to look at him in turn. "Ah." He pushes a few loose strands of hair out of his face, now loose since he'd taken his hair tie out earlier.<<else>>Callen idly tidies up, languidly picking up things strewn across the floor of the living room--one of $firstname's little boots that'd been tossed aside after $they'd gotten ready for bed, a piece of parchment picked up from a newsboy earlier in the day, a toy or book here and there--all sorted into their proper places. Sonia's rough descent down the stairs draws his attention. The woman takes no care to mask the sound of her feet plodding heavily on the creaky wood, even when her boots are off she manages to sound like she's wearing iron plates on her feet. Once she reaches the bottom she immediately helps herself to a mug of cool ale, hunching forward on the counter but flipping around to lean back on it instead once Callen moves, situating himself on the third step of the stairs to sit down on them. He clasps his hands in his lap, looking at Sonia through the dim light of the room. "Well, $they's finally asleep. Damned miracle." Sonia huffs, wiping her face with one hand exhaustedly and shifting some of her ashen hair out of her eyes. "P'raps all that sugar wasn't the best idea today, lass." Callen laughs quietly, taking care not to make too much noise lest Sonia's hard work at putting the $callenChild to bed be undone. Sonia huffs. "Sugar wasn't the issue. I just ... couldn't get $them to sleep, y'know? Would've thought after a full day of <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>hanging out with Archer<<else>>avoiding Archer<</if>> $they would've been readier to get to sleep." She puffs one of her cheeks out and puffs tiredly, dejectedly. Today was evidently an ordeal for her, not even considering the hours-long meetings they'd both gone through at the Citadel. Callen's aware that she can ... struggle, with some aspects of her role as a guardian to $firstname. Despite that, she's insistent on doing things as independently as possible, only accepting aid when Callen insists upon lending a helping hand. The choice she'd made nearly six years ago remains her driving motivation, pushing her to do her utmost for the $child. She doesn't seem to understand they're //both// $firstname's parents, as unconventional as their situation may be. "It took some coercion and more pages than necessary of //Daegal's Destiny//, but $they's sleepin' like a baby, now. Good book, though. Always loved to read it, though I myself couldn't read at the time." "Someone read it t'you?" "Yeah, uh ... Anna. Someone at the church'd taught her, before..." Her grip on the cup tightens as her eyes shift away from Callen. "You know." Callen keeps on looking at her, despite her reluctance to look at him in turn. "Ah." He pushes a fewerrant strands of hair out of his face, now loose since he'd taken his hair tie out earlier.<</if>> "But, yeah. Probably my favourite book as a kid, not much else for a little orphan girl to believe in other than mythical heroes, right?" She chuckles sarcastically, finally daring to mak eye contact with Callen again. Callen frowns melancholily, shifting around uncomfortably on his improvised seat, but tries to inject some levity back into the conversation. "Personally, I believe ol' Daegal's real in a sense, though thirty dragons's a little hard t'believe." "We should be teaching the kid about //actual// heroes that we //know// did shit. Why don't they write stories about the Old Huntress? There's a proper hero." "Beats me, lass. Order itself seems content t'forget about old Briz, as if nobody can see her bleedin' statue right outside the Citadel." Callen replies sadly. "She's not even technically the last now, either. Not likely to be a last for a good while, if what we heard turns true..." [[Next|Chap1Scene41]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>After a moment of quiet, Sonia speaks up again. "Do you ever ... regret it? This?" She gestures vaguely with her arms to the house around them. "Gettin' the house?" Callen tilts his head quizically, like a confused dog. "No, Cal. You //know// what I'm talking about." Sonia responds tensely. "Afraid I don't, lass." Callen speaks softly, slowly. "When I joined the Order all that time ago, I didn't imagine I'd be livin' in a little house with my former mentor and our sort-of-kid even when I'd gotten my cloak. You might've been livin' it up in a mansion somewhere if not for me, for //us//." Sonia blurts out, all too quickly. Callen makes to protest, but she interrupts him. "Not that I'm not //happy// here, Cal. I //am//. I wouldn't trade this for anything, but... Don't you ever think about how things might've gone? If we weren't locked into doing whatever the Council wants us to? I mean, fuck. You heard what Abe said at that meeting! We're gonna be //hunting// for the first time in centuries, //alongside// mentoring? How long d'you see us doing this? Will we even see the kid we sacrificed our futures for //grow up//?" Callen's head stays pointed at the floor, his wide frame softly shifting up and down with his breathing while he fidgets with his hands, as if thinking of what next to say. Eventually, his silence breaks. "You speak of sacrifice, Sonia? Sometimes ... I think about what might've been. But, whether it's //this// influencin' my thoughts," Callen gestures to the small rune, permanently and magically tattooed on the back of his hand, "or somethin' else, I've never //wanted// t'change things. That $callenChild up there was ... ''hells'', Sonia. Every day I see more 'n more of $their parents in $themInformal an' then I'm right back to //that// day! People talk, lass," Callen's voice is growing louder and louder and Sonia shoots a rare look of concern at him, giving him pause for a moment. After a beat, he continues. "They //talk//, an' I know we won't be able to protect $firstname from gossip forever. It took one stray act o' kindness to bring the $callenChild to us. I intend to repay that act a thousandfold." Callen pauses with a steadying breath, steely eyes turning shiny in the dim indoor lighting, before continuing. "The least I can do is dedicate myself to $them, maybe balance my toll for ... for //her//." His voice cracks, finally, but he continues all the same. "I don't regret a //damn// thing, lass. Not stickin' with you, not savin' the $callenChild. I never will, even on my dyin' day. So no, Sonia, I do not //sacrifice//. I give. I'll give until there's nothin' else left, if I have to." Those final words ring through the quiet room, interrupted only by Callen's suppressed sniffling; he's crying, hot tears streaking down his weathered face openly, unashamedly. Moisture pricks at the very corners of Sonia's reddened eyes. It is a long time before anybody speaks but, finally, Sonia does. "You're a damned idiot, Cal. I've no idea what gave you the impression I was worth this trouble..." She chuckles grimly, "but $firstname is. I know that, always have. It's just ... I can't help but think sometimes, y'know?" Callen nods sadly. "Aye, lass. I know." He stands, moving towards the woman and placing a bracing hand on each of her shoulders. "But we'll weather this storm, and any other that comes our way. There ain't anythin' the three of us can't manage, //Master// Wierszy." His eyes, still wet with tears, twinkle childishly.<<else>>After a moment of quiet, Callen speaks up. "Just wanted to say, lass ... I'm proud of ye. For everythin' you've been doin'." Sonia looks bemused. "Where's //this// coming from, Cal? You nick one of my training swords or something?" "No, lass. I'm bein' serious here. I am proud, of everythin' ye've done, how far you've come since Zimato." "I recall we'd agreed not to speak about Zimato, Cal." Sonia coolly replies, the look in her eyes one of pleading despite her chilly words. //Don't bring it up, not again.// "Aye, we did. Nine years ago, when you screamed it at me after a few too many drinks. This kind of stuff, lass ... It's not somethin' ye can //run// from, hopin' the memory fades into nothin'. I tried my damndest to do that, an' it just brought me hurt, plain and simple. I don't want that for you, but I know you've been doin' it to yerself, even without the drink and the fightin'. I was //there//, when it all happened. I'm not gonna pretend t'know how you're feelin', even all these years later, but--" "So don't, Callen. Don't pretend, don't even fucking //ask//. I don't need t--to bare my //heart// to anybody. You might've been there, but you weren't //me//. You didn't see what I saw, fight what I fought!" Callen just looks calmly, softly, at her. He stays sat on the step as Sonia gets up and paces around furiously, brushing her hair frantically back with her hands and muttering to herself. "I just ... fuck, Cal. I didn't mean that. I--I know what //you've// been through, I'd never, c-compare it, or anything..." "I know, lass. Y'were angry. There's no need to apologize for feelin' things," Callen responds quietly, breathing slowly and calmly. He stands, taking his time, as Sonia's pacing slows to a halt. "I just--I think I'm //afraid//." She sniffs, and Callen shuffles towards her. "I try to hide it, with the talk and the training and everything else, but I know that when the day comes where I can't distract myself with fighting, or drinking, or raising that //wonderful// $child up there, I'll break, and if I stop to think about that then I'll lose it again, Cal." Rare tears prick at her green eyes, rolling slowly over her thin scar and //drip-dripping// to the cold stone floor, louder than either of the two expected. "I can't let that happen with $firstname around. I have to be stronger." "You can lean on me, lass. It's what I'm //here// for, always have been. My duty to ye didn't end with the Order, I'm right here, still, to help you, lass. An' I know you feel some //obligation// to me, but save it." He shifts closer still. "There ain't a thing ye owe me, because I //chose// to help you, that day, and I choose to keep doin' it now, whenever you need it. There's not a day that I don't ... struggle, with the //rage// I feel, I've not had one day of levity. But I manage, because I have you, and I have $them," he points up and behind him, towards where $firstname sleeps soundly, oblivious to the heartfelt words poured out in $their absence. "Aye, the hurt stays, but it ain't the only thing bouncin' around in me heart anymore." Callen's close, now. Close enough for each Bladeweaver to see the other's tears in the dim torchlight. He maintains eye contact with Sonia, much as she might try to avoid it, steadfastly, never breaking it. "I need ye to understand that, lass." Finally, Sonia chuckles dryly, emptily. "Wonder how $firstname's gonna feel when $they finds out $their tough Aunt Sonia's just a scared little girl, running from monsters..." "If we've done even a half-proper job at raisin' the $callenChild, $they'll understand that nothin's ever as simple as escapin' such a situation as you did an' that being the end of it, lass." Sonia swallows a lump in her throat and hoarsely blurts out, "Right. You're ... right, Cal. As always, I guess. You're like a big scruffy philosopher, aren't you?" "I try me best, lass. Can't be this old without havin' picked up some kind o' wisdom, can I?" "Could've fooled me, Cal." Sonia smirks as Callen scoffs in mock-offence. "It's late, but I reckon I could kick yer arse, if we're quiet in the trainin' room." A challenge burns in his eyes but, surprisingly, Sonia rejects it. "It's late, Cal, and somehow I'm too tired to fight." She sighs. "But any other day, I'll prove you wrong." "Tomorrow then, lass. I'll make ye regret those words." <</if>> Sonia smirks and dries her errant tears before roughly pulling Callen into a hug, arms wrapped around his warm, wide frame. "Piss off, old man." [[Next|Chap1Scene42]]

After hugging for longer than anyone would expect the two to hug, Sonia and Callen separate, tears dried and worries patched up, if not completely mended. "I've been doin' some thinkin', Sonia..." Callen begins after a minute. "Oh, congratulations." Sonia responds dryly, biting her lip amusedly when Callen shoves her lightly on the shoulder. "But really, lass, I have. That whole ... situation, with $firstname's parents, it's comin' up to nearly six //years// since, now. We ain't gonna be able to have $themInformal believing $their parents are still out there forever, nor are we capable of keepin' the $callenChild safe from what people in Sola know about the situation til' $they's capable of handlin' the truth right." He speaks low, quiet, as if $firstname could be snooping--like last night. Sonia makes a sound in the back of her throat, halfway between a chuckle and grunt. "Might've just been easier to tell $them we're $their //actual// parents." <<if $skintone == "pale" or $skintone == "rosy" or $skintone == "warm" or $skintone == "medium">>"Might work, for a time, but would ye really commit to that act, lass? Bein' called //mother//? S'makin' me laugh a bit now." Callen responds, trying to stifle a growing grin, burly arms crossed over his chest. Sonia looks positively besmirched. "I'd //put up// with it, at least!" "There's a reason you ain't selected for any espionage operations, lass." Callen replies simply, cocking his head in sympathy.<<else>>"Not a chance, lass. The $callenChild don't look much like either o' us and, besides, would ye really commit to that act? Bein' called //mother//? S'makin' me laugh a bit now, lass." Callen responds, trying to stifle a growing grin, burly arms crossed over his chest. Sonia looks positively besmirched. "I'd //put up// with it, at least!" "There's a reason you ain't selected for any espionage operations, lass." Callen replies simply, cocking his head in sympathy.<</if>> "No, yeah, I know. Shitty idea. It's not a lie $they'd be likely to forgive us for, either. 'Least with this there's a non-zero chance the kid won't //absolutely// hate us when the truth comes out." Callen smiles sympathetically, but his expression twists into one of moderate frustration. "That's ... what I've been thinkin' about. There'll come a day when either the $callenChild wants to know more about $their ma and da and //us//, either by comin' to $their own conclusions or by findin' out from someone else. S'either that, or we tell $themInformal, direct, everythin' we know. Once $they's ready, 'course." Sonia stares bewilderedly for a moment, but manages to find her words. "//What//?" "As I said. I've been thinkin', lass. There's gonna come a time when either we don't tell the $callenChild anything and $they hates us for it, or we take a gamble and tell the truth, the ugly rotten whole of it. "And when would $they be ready? How do we decide something like that, Cal?" Sonia asks skeptically. "I mean, when's someone //actually// ready for two people, who share no blood at all with them, to sit down and tell them, 'yeah, sorry your parents popped it the day you were born, but at least you get to kill monsters and men alike til' you end up on a pyre just like your mummy and daddy, because we say so', Callen?" She laughs disbelievingly. "I understand why ye're skeptical, Sonia. It's... a whole lot to dump on a littl'un, but I'd rather $firstname hear the whole of it from //us//, rather'n some shit at the Academy who overheard //gossip// about $themInformal. We already know $they's gonna be an object o' ire an' interest alike. Best to give $themInformal one less thing to have t'worry about at the Academy, get it out o' the way beforehand, y'think, lass?" Sonia spends a good while actually considering this, biting her bottom lip in concentration as her green eyes narrow in thought. "Gods, Cal. When did you think would be a good time to ... do it? I just ... just don't want to fuck //this// up, at least" "I understand, lass. Before $they starts at the Academy, in my mind." Callen responds simply. Sonia hums disapprovingly. "So, ten? That's too young, Cal." "Any later'n we risk the $callenChild findin' out from someone that ain't us, and I fear for that one's safety should ye catch wind of who specifically said it, lass." He smiles softly, the attempt at levity coming out flat in the midst of the serious discussion. Sonia looks up at the ceiling for a good while, blinking slowly. "I don't want to ruin $them, Callen. We can't let that happen. That $child got dragged out of a sure hell, I don't want to be responsible for putting $them into a different one." "We'll give $themInformal a childhood, Sonia, I promise ye, we //have// been givin' the $callenChild one, as best we can ... but if we're gonna be here less an' less, I'd hate for $them to end up hatin' us, for leavin' and lyin' so much. Can't abide it, not for that long," he mutters. Sonia releases a long, drawn-out puff of air, but nods definitively. Her mind is made. "Alright, Cal. Ten, then? No earlier?" Her green eyes are wide and vulnerable, her often-sour face turning nigh-delicate in the soft torchlight of the kitchen. "Ten, lass. I promise." Callen holds a big, rough hand out. Sonia grips it with her own, smaller, but no less rough hand in turn. Two shakes, up and down, seal the deal. "Let's both of us go t'bed, eh lass? It's been a hell of a day." Sonia's mouth quirks upwards. "That it has; I think I've had enough talk about //feelings// for the rest of my life. Agree to never do this again?" Callen grins. "I make no promises, Sonia Wierszy." The two Masters head upstairs to their own rooms, thoughts on the future murky in their minds, loath as they are to admit it to one another. Their world is constantly changing, and there's little they can do to stop it. [[A long, long road lies ahead.|Chap1Ending]]

<div id="subheader-text">//Years ago...//</div> //25th of Moro, 1482// //Public pyregrounds, Alposa, Kingdom of Telfrin// "Thank ye for stallin', friend. It's much appreciated." Callen clasps the hand of the official in a friendly manner, shaking the slender woman's whole upper body with the force of his handshake. She walks off a little confusedly, almost bumping into Sonia on her way, the scarred Weaver's dour expression worsening after the incident. Her countenance doesn't improve even when Callen turns his jovial half-smile to her. "Somethin' the matter, lass?" He tilts his head, brown hair flopping around in the low winds. Sonia scowls at him for a moment, green eyes rendered almost black in the low evening light. "We caught one of the last Sky Lifts out of Sola for what, exactly? It's two dead people, people we never met and never will meet. Only thing connecting us is that ... baby. We ought to have been recovering from these Gods-damned tattoos," she grunts, rolling up her sleeve and revealing her bandaged forearm. Callen bears a similar bandage, though on his hand instead. He'd often worn gloves, so having one on most of the time wouldn't go amiss. Callen hums quietly, shifting closer to her. Behind him, two wrapped bodies lie atop a small pyre, built of dry wood and other flammables, a firestarting rune drawn beneath it in order to ensure a smooth, quick burning. Sola is home to many things--nobility, Bladeweavers, artistans from all over the world renowned for being the height of their respective crafts--but it is not home to any graveyards, owing to its relatively small size. Such things would be a waste of space, especially when it is Telfrini custom to burn the dead. Thus, bodies from the city are transported down to Alposa and burials or cremation are handled there, instead. On rare occasions, burnings are permitted in Sola--for those who can pay, of course--but most bodies are simply sent down via Skylift at the end of the week. The bodies--the $child's parents--have their faces momentarily unwrapped, flammable yarn spread out around their cold, blood-drained faces; once vibrant $skintone skin taking on a sallow, dull tone. Empty eyes, carelessly left open where custom dictates they are to be shut, stare into the cloudless evening sky. "C'mon, lass. It'll do us good to meet the parents of the $callenChild we'll be wardin', even if they can't speak to us. Maybe ye can say somethin'?" Sonia scoffs. "Oh, sure. I'll have a lovely chat with the //corpses//," she mutters, but follows him all the same, keeping a respectable distance from the two bodies on the pyre. [[Next|Chap1EndingP2]]

Callen kneels down, eyes fixed on the still father of the $child. He looks so //young//, even laid to rest like this. "Hello there, friend. I'm Callen, Bladeweaver by trade. It seems ... the heavens've sought to place yer $callenChild into the untested arms o' me and my companion. It's a terrible thing, what happened to ye, somethin' I've seen plenty of in my line of work--the dead--though it never stops bein' hard to think of ... to //see//." He pauses, unclenching a fist that he didn't even realise was crushing itself, knuckles turning white. "Ye can rest knowin' that, though yer $callenChild is goin' into a line of work where $they'll see more of t'world's evils than someone rightly ought to, we," he nods to Sonia, who's still doing her best to avoid looking at him or the bodies, "will keep the $callenChild safe, happy and fed until $they's ready to shoulder such burdens $themself. It won't be an easy life, but there's no better one'n that of a hero." Callen stops a moment, looking up to Sonia again. "Ye're sure there's nothin' ye'd like to say, Sonia? Won't get any other chance at this." He says somewhat sheepishly, inexplicably managing to find a sprinkle of humour in even this situation. Sonia glowers at his joke, grinding her teeth together. "Fine, I'll fucking indulge you. Just ... turn around. Don't watch, alright?" "Alright, lass. M'afraid coverin' my ears won't help much, though." "Go." She waves Callen up and away, and he opts to head to the edge of the cliff that the pyregrounds are located on, peering out at the setting sun. Sonia awkwardly crouches by the mother, keeping a wary distance. She starts and stops sentences before they even properly begin, unsure of what exactly to //say//. She avoids looking at the woman's $eyecolour eyes, most likely left open by a careless undertaker. "I, uh, I'm sorry that you died, I suppose." She starts roughly, chewing her left cheek in-between pauses. "It's a shitty thing, though I didn't know you. I'm sure you were good people, but we don't exactly //know// anything about either of you, so I could be wrong..." She mutters, pausing to look over at Callen on the cliff's edge, big hands clasped behind his back--a pose that she sees men his age take so often that it's puzzling to her--a pillar of calm in the midst of this chaos. "But we, uh, we //are// here, like he said. We're, well, not //good// people, but we're not the worst either. We'll take good care of your kid, miss. We're Bladeweavers, protecting and killing's what we do, I suppose <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>I'll be training $them myself personally, too. <<else>>My friend'll be training $them himself personally, too. <</if>>Nobody's laying a finger on the $child now without one of us lopping it off afterwards, so," she finally manages to look at the bodies, both of them, "don't worry, if you are. If you're even, you know, out there..." In the corner of her eye, Sonia sees Callen's head lift to the skies, the distant, hazy speck of Sola not his focus, but further beyond--higher, past the pinky-orange sky. "But, uh, yeah. I suppose that's it, really. It's shit you died and it's not fair, no matter how it might've happened. But me, and him," it's Sonia's turn to gesture to Callen, this time, "we've seen our share of unfairness in the world, too. So in that sense, I think we can ... prepare your $parentChild for it, should it come $their way." Once she's finished Callen turns and walks back to the pyre. His gaze turns to the official from before, a solemn look on her face. "Lookin' like it's time, lass." He mutters, leaning down slightly to talk into Sonia's ear. She startles and looks up hurriedly. "Oh. Right." She rises and settles at Callen's side, rubbing one of her arms with the other nervously. Her gaze is fixed to the bodies, still as stone. "The time has come, I am afraid. We can delay no longer." The official's voice is low and soothing, a soft temperance blanketing the dark, windy cliffside. "We understand." Callen says simply. "Anythin' ye've left to say, lass?" He looks down at his companion, who's still staring at the bodies. Sonia takes a slow step forward, now addressing both parents. "I ... I promise to protect your $parentChild. We'll never be the parents you might've been, but we're here for $them. Me and Callen, both. We'll tell $them about you, one day. What you looked like, mostly. I guess that's all we know..." She finishes, awkwardly. She blows a puff of air through her nose, aggravated, and opts to stare at the ground instead of the unmoving forms on the pyre. Callen steps behind Sonia, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him, a sombre ghost of asmile etched on her scarred face. Callen's smaller, more numerous scars are suddenly illuminated by the flame as the pyre roars to vibrant, fiery life. The two Bladeweavers step back as a wave of heat hits them both, remaining focused on the silhouetted figures as they slowly crumble to ash and air in the unyielding inferno. Callen speaks next, running a thumb over the bumpy surface of a silvery-green pin affixed to his cloak, tracing the shape of the tiny winged dagger upon it. "Aye, let that be my promise, as well. Goodbye, whoever ye two might have been in life. Rest easy, knowin' this in death." [[In the light of a burning pyre, two Bladeweavers seal a shared vow.|Chap1EndingP3]]

<div id="header-text">End of Chapter One</div> <div id="centre-text">[[Continue|Chap1Interlude]]</div>

<div id="header-text">The Times Between...</div> Archer's warnings would unfortunately come to pass--demonkind, in all its horrid splendour--seemed to be making a quiet yet forceful return to Phanol for the first time in three centuries. You were five when you felt fear, real fear, for the first time in your life. A horror unseen since the legendary Age of Hunts, born anew so close to the advent of a new age--one that, understandably, nobody is quite ready to lend a name to just yet. As more and more sightings were reported along the continent, Bladeweavers situated in all nations and cities--Telfrin, Abria, Vengard and even beyond, to the continent of the Forgotten East where the Shattered Lands lay, abandoning their rudimentary posts there in favour of returning to Phanol--mobilized to combat the threat together, a collaboration unlike any before. The full might of the Bladeweavers' Order now actively resists the return of darkness and the so-called servants of the Thirteenth God. Just as the world had begun to lose its need for the Bladeweavers, the Order had found its true calling once more: to kill monsters. This, of course, had an effect on your Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia, who were busier than ever with their surface assignments. They'd often be gone for weeks at a time, travelling the expansive kingdom of Telfrin--the nation that Sola floats above, though it is not controlled by it--in search of new demonic prey. [[🐺+ 🦅+ You'd tearfully beg them to stay in equal measure, fearful of the danger to their lives, but they would have none of it. It was to be their duty and, for reasons unknown to you, they could not defy the Order.|Chap1Interlude2][$callenClose to $callenClose + 3, $soniaClose to $soniaClose + 3, $chap1Stay to 1]] [[🐺+ You'd tearfully beg them to stay, mainly Uncle Callen, fearful of the danger to their lives, but they would have none of it. It was to be their duty and, for reasons unknown to you, they could not defy the Order.|Chap1Interlude2][$callenClose to $callenClose + 5, $chap1Stay to 2]] [[🦅+ You'd tearfully beg them to stay, mainly Aunt Sonia, fearful of the danger to their lives, but they would have none of it. It was to be their duty and, for reasons unknown to you, they could not defy the Order.|Chap1Interlude2][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 3, $chap1Stay to 3]] [[🐺- 🦅- You figured they'd be just fine. It's what they do, right? They'd be pretty terrible Bladeweavers if they couldn't survive demons, in your mind.|Chap1Interlude2][$callenClose to $callenClose - 5, $soniaClose to $soniaClose - 5, $chap1Stay to 0]]

<<if $chap1Stay > 0>>Though it was more often than not <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> leaving rather than the both of them, on the rare occasions that happened you'd tearfully hug them both for minutes at a time and, when they finally departed you'd wave them off for as long as you could until they disappeared down the street corner on the road to the Bladeweavers' Citadel, a distant obelisk in the skyline of central Sola.<<else>><</if>> When the two of them did leave at the same time, it meant you would be placed into the care of Archer <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "dislike">>(much to your chagrin) <<else>>(much to your glee) <</if>>who would spend all of their days with you, taking a role as a tutor of sorts once you'd started basic education for a child your age--though sometimes, they weren't always available and you had to be placed into the care of a local nursery, where you'd meet and play with other Solan children--a rarity since most families lived in different areas of the city which lead to you having little interaction with other children most of the time Archer would take you to Sola's museum, a big marble building full of old art and trinkets from half-remembered civilizations, as well as the top of the Mage's Guild tower - from which you could see much of Sola and below, as well as get the clearest view of the sky. Once, they'd taken you up at night (swearing you to secrecy about being up so late, <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>a secret you intended to keep<<else>>a secret you might intend to betray if they wronged you<</if>>), in order to watch the Veil at its brightest. You'd lay on a makeshift bed of rugs in the open roof of the tower, staring up at the pitch darkness in awe as brilliant flashes of colour rippled across the inky expanse. Distant stars twinkling and the moon's stark glowing white becoming filtered with different colours as the Veil passed over it--greens, blues, pinks, oranges--sometimes all at once and sometimes singular, but always bright, always //moving//, shifting like a wave of pure energy. Indeed, it is thought to be the power of the twelve errant Gods: so far removed from the world now, yet their presence is still visible, tangible even. Archer would always look at the Veil with a mix of reverence and respectful wariness, pointing out a few constellations to you such as Zofin's Sceptre, a long string of stars with a cluster at the end, or Belrom's Bow, an arcing line of stars that seemed to fire a stream of stardust. [[Next|Chap1Interlude3]]

As the months passed, the change became somewhat familiar. It wasn't all bad, either--both of them would be given a couple months of leave during Summer before the Bladeweavers' academy reopened its doors to new students, to prepare themselves for their duties as masters. You silently thanked whatever God had decided to put the three of you on Sola, where Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia were easy picks for academy mentors, owing to their close position to the Citadel and the academy housed within. These months turned to years and, though the occasional absence of one or both of your mentors was keenly felt, you learned to cherish the time you //did// get to spend with them. You would turn six. Then seven. And now, you are eight--have been for a good while now. This affords you a more active role in the household: you participate in chores, helping Uncle Callen or Aunt Sonia around the house, tidying your own things and dressing yourself. Were you a more gullible $child, you'd certainly believe the mark of a great warrior is being able to tie one's bootlaces without help. Alongside your duties, your studies have also picked up. It seems that you are no longer able to simply read stories and entertaining half-fictions. No, you must learn //arithmetic// and recite //poetry// and study //history// and learn a number of other things that all sort of blend into one another on the days you must learn them. However, you've also been learning to //fight//, albeit with training swords. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> takes the lead with your training, instructing you on the proper footwork and technique to attack your opponent--currently, a set beaten-up training dummies. You've wondered why you're starting to train so early, if you're to begin at the academy in two years, but the reason presented to you is that many of your peers will be nobility, trained just as much as you will be ahead of time for their role as future Bladeweavers. Adding on to that, they will have something you don't: status. Being their equal in combat will not be enough. Thus, you need to train extra hard and extra early in order to even be //seen// as equal to them. It's unfair, <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$chap2BWExcited" autoselect>> <<option "but you can't say you aren't excited about one day being a real Bladeweaver." "yes">> <<option "but you have to do it, much as you aren't thrilled at the concept of being a Bladeweaver one day." "no">> <<option "but you do it anyway, though you've not given your future role as a Bladeweaver much thought. It's always simply been what will //be//, and that isn't going to change." "unsure">> <</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$chap2BWExcited" autoselect>> <<option "but you can't say you aren't excited about one day being a real Bladeweaver." "yes">> <<option "but you have to do it, much as you aren't thrilled at the concept of being a Bladeweaver one day." "no">> <<option "but you do it anyway, though you've not given your future role as a Bladeweaver much thought. It's always simply been what will be, and that isn't going to change." "unsure">> <</listbox>><</if>> Wait ... aren't you supposed to be training now? //[[But, first...|Chap1Interlude4]]//

''//You dream, once more...//'' //"...so..." "..uso!.." "Druso!" "Hm?" You grunt and sit up, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the source of the voice from your right. You check the position of your weapon on your left before whipping your head back round to the source of your name being called. A figure slowly comes into focus as your eyes adjust properly. Rion sits on their haunches, lithe arms crossed over their half-exposed chest. They wear a sullen pout--so unfamiliar on their placid, delicate face. Their deeply tanned skin takes on an almost glowing quality in the evening sun. Like you, they must have been sleeping, judging by their messy hair--something they would certainly not abide in the presence of others. You're not just //others//, though. "What did I miss?" You yawn and rub your eyes before stretching your back, sitting up amidst the cool grass. Above you, the late evening sky appears as a blanket of pinky-orange flame, dark and vibrant. Rion rolls their golden eyes. "That wine is nowhere near as potent as you're making it out to be, Druso. I fear you have a ... weak constitution." They reprimand playfully, a smug little grin curling their full lips upwards. You rub your eyes. "I'm not so sure, Rion. This wine is certainly having some effect, with all the ''mingling'' you were doing with those clan leaders. I've never seen you so social." Your voice, already low and gruff, is made even more so by your unshakeable dreariness. Rion looks at you for a moment, biting one side of their lower lip in concentration--that's how you know they're thinking of something to say. You are not sure they even realise they're doing it. "The time that I spend with them is necessary, Druso. Believe me, I would drop them in a hole and run the other way, were I able. But this gets us what we want, so it must be done." They sigh dramatically, pushing their long, golden hair out of their face as they lay back down in the grass. "What is it that they all want from you, anyway?" You grumble, frowning as you look at them. "It is surely a steep price to pay for what they give you." Rion's lips thin. "Protection from their foes. Protection from those who would hold dominion over them. The same as everybody else." Their expression is unreadable for a moment, but they soon return to normal. "You may sleep some more, if you like. I imagine we shan't be expected back for another half-hour, at least. Though I doubt anyone would say anything were we ''slightly'' late, either." They smirk up at you with half-lidded eyes, apparently content to return to the realm of dreams if you are. It always amuses you how they're so ... much, these days, but they're still almost the exact same disobedient kid you'd met on the streets of Ki'inya, all those years ago. [[Although, there is one major difference.|Chap1Interlude5]]

//Their wings, spread out beneath them on the cool grass, spanning at least twice their height in width. Stark white and almost glittering in the warm evening light, the pair of feathered limbs have earned Rion the titles of angel, savior--''god'', even, though this is spoken quieter than the rest. To Rion's credit, the wings have earned them these titles just as much as their recent actions--brought about by their strange new abilities. Miraculously, Rion is also able to hide their wings' appearance when necessary, keeping them hidden from unwanted eyes. Here, though, they brandish their avian limbs proudly. Their title of Sunbird is hardly unwarranted, for certain. Yet to you, they're still just the same kid who'd gladly take a bloody nose and a beating to stand up for you, which was often given the discrimination they faced. These days, your positions seem to have swapped; with you as ''their'' guardian, stone-faced and imposing. Of course, they apply a charming, honourable veneer for the masses, but you've seen their earnest kindness, their burning passion to help those who need it firsthand. It's ... comforting, to know that they've not changed, and gives you hope that they won't in the future, either. "So ... How did it go, anyway?" You venture, knowing they'd prefer to do this later, but you can't help it. A lot hinges on the coming days, and it'd help to have a favourable beginning with the southern clans. They've told you that you need to work on your patience but ... it's just who you are, is it not? It would be like telling a stone it cannot be a stone any longer. Rion blows a puff of air out of their mouth, lifting their hands to their eyes and rubbing feverishly with their palms. "Must we do this now, Druso? I'm still bloody tipsy!" "Could've fooled me, Ri. You're good at hiding things." "I have to be good at that. Skies, the ''cheek'' on you," they coo, kicking your ankle softly. "You can't forgive me for being curious, Rion. This will decide whether or not we keep heading down into that accursed desert. I'd just like to know if my time will be standing around at one of these damnable ''parties'' or actually taking real care of you and your ... followers, on the road." "This protectiveness borders on obsession," they chuckle, and you know they don't truly mean those snide words. "I swore an oath, didn't I?" They look away guiltily, but smile slightly at the memory. "You did, indeed--you fought like a demon, but I suppose you had not expected to find in me such strength after all that time. I must confess I am not sure what ''you'' would do if one of our enemies," the word ''enemies'' sends a tingling chill down your spine, "decided I was to be too much of a threat to their machinations, but your protection is ... appreciated, know this." They pause, pushing any melancholy away in favour of lightening the conversation up. "Though, I know your eyes are not ''always'' set upon me, Druso. I've seen you looking after that priestess, what is her name..." Their brow knots in thought before a look of childish glee lights their golden eyes up. "Efinia?" They look expectantly at you as if they already know they're correct. [[They are.|Chap1Interlude5P2]]

//There's something you need to ask, it's been on your mind for a while ever since, well, ''this'' started. Rion's quest--their ... paradise. Ever since the revelations a year ago, they've been hailed as a sort of ''hero'', one to solely contend the tyranny of those distant oppressors. You've operated in anonymity, for now--partly owing to your efforts as Rion's protector to mask your movements across the land, but there's always the chance that one of ''them'' might take notice of Rion's activites and naturally see it as heresy, in their damnable hubris. "Rion, I need to ask ... all this, where does it ... end?" The amusement drains from their face at your question and they stop in their tracks, turning to face you once more. "What do you mean?" The question is earnest, spoken softly. Their eyes are large and round, boring into your very soul. "Your quest. This ... paradise of yours. What's the end goal? What if someone powerful catches wind, decides they don't like it? What if ''all'' of them--" "The end goal is as I've always dreamed. A haven for those sick of this ... ''broken'' world." It occurs to you that they're speaking like you're one of those clan leaders, using the same perfumed words they'd used to convince the clans to lend their aid; building materials, labourers, reverence. They're trying to ''convince'' you, rather than explain the proper truth. You stumble on your words for a moment, struggling to articulate what you wish to get across. "But, does it not it trouble you, Rion? That kind of power is nothing to scoff at. I know you've got your wings and your own gifts, but--" You cut your sentence short when the aforementioned wings shift, fluttering slightly with a sound like rustling leaves. Rion's expression is intense, a roiling determination in their eyes you've scarcely seen before. Their taut-drawn chest expands and deflates with the force of their breathing, their angelic silhouette backlit by waning sunlight. You stare, mouth slightly open as they take a slow step forward, those golden eyes like roiling pools of sunlight fixed squarely upon you, only you. Shorter than you as they are, you still manage to feel somewhat small in their presence. "If you'll believe nothing else in this world, Druso, not in love, honour or even good itself, believe this." They speak with the solemnity of a promise made. <<link"<q>Nothing shall trouble us again, I promise you, my friend. I will build this dream.</q>">><<goto Chap2Scene1>><</link>>

<div id = "header-text">The Abrian Empire</div> The Abrian (pronounced ab-ree-an) Empire lays claim to the entire eastern landmass of Phanol as well as a large portion of its north. The Empire originated from the island of Abria, where its capital, High Abria, can be found. The Empire quickly spread out from this island, utilizing their superior knowledge of combat magic and ancient infrastructure to build a long-lasting civilization that has been around for almost a millennium. In modern times, Abria is less warlike but no less expansionist, spreading its sizable economy all over Phanol with its rare exports. Abria also has a small presence in the fledgeling nation of Mestiria--Abrian ministers govern a number of towns within the nation in return for a supply of high-quality farming equipment and crops to the Mestirians--though some believe there is more being sent than just crop-growing supplies. Much of Abria is made up of fertile land well-suited to farming, and Abrian farmers have found great success in planting foreign crops and cultivating new breeds of plant with the aid of magic--both Functional and Willful. Abria is more friendly to Fallen than the other nations, allowing them to use their abilities and live as citizens in the country as long as they're registered and closely monitored--the stigma around Fallen is popular in Abria, same as the rest of Phanol. Abrian folklore commonly involves tales of its Three Sovereigns, each the ruler of a third of Abria's original island who banded together to conquer the lands beyond their little home. They exemplify Abrian ideals of ambition and camaraderie, though to many others they signify tyranny and rampant imperialism. Abria's political structure reflects its collaborative intent, with the figurehead, an Emperor or Empress, ruling with the support of a senate made up of powerful figures in society, ironically chosen by previous rulers. They rule for life or until abdication, upon which a successor is voted for by the senate. The recommendation of a previous Emperor or Empress would be extremely beneficial for a potential successor, so many courtly games are played in Abrian politics. One inevitable consequence of this is that Abria's imperial crown is oft inherited by family members of the previous ruler. <<if $currentChapter < 7>>Abria's current ruler is Emperor Tohren.<<else>>Its current ruler is Empress Bernice.<</if>>

<div id = "header-text">The Kingdom of Telfrin</div> Telfrin (pronounced //tell-fran//) currently ruled by its king, [[Thibau II]], is the oldest nation in Phanol. Its churches claim the land itself is blessed by the Pantheon of Light. In legend, the first Empyrean blade was forged in Telfrin, atop the [[Risen City|Risen Cities]] of [[Gelor]], highest of all, though that city now technically belongs in [[Abrian|The Abrian Empire]] territory (though, despite what many propagandists say, Risen Cities are not strictly claimed by one nation alone). Its land is mostly arid or temperate, with a large collection of mines to the north which Telfrin fiercely defends as its primary source of wealth. Its capital, Centus, is located on the eastern coast and is now a major trade hub with Groyton--an Abrian city across the Bloodied Sea, a stretch of water between the Abrian Megapeninsula and the rest of Phanol, the site of countless naval battles. Telfrin adopts more of a no-tolerance policy to Fallen, with usage of their abilities outright banned in favour of a reliance on Risen practicioners, the majority of whom practice their craft on Telfrini soil. There is widespread stigma regarding Fallen across Telfrin, and they are not treated kindly--though there is no 'official' decree to punish them unless they use their magic. Despite this, the populace still have a fear and distrust towards Fallen individuals, leading to a low quality of life for those who live there. The nation itself does nothing to dispel this fear. Ancient rumours persist that Old Telfrin would use Fallen to ward off demonic attacks, as they are known to attack Fallen individuals less often than others. The exact nature of this method is unknown, but it is not likely to have been a fair or kind one. Telfrin's political structure is an absolute monarchy. The monarch may choose to rule with or without a supporting council, though a history of rebellion against despots and ill-prepared rulers has left Telfrin's more recent kings willing to take a more populist stance on issues that plague the nation. Indeed, King Thibau has played his cards well, becoming well-loved by his subjects after succeeding his relatively unpopular father, despite his peculiarities. The Telfrini royal family, the Aiglots, usurped the previous rulers, the Feu d'Ciels, in the 11th century. A family of Fallen, capable of controlling the once-mighty dragons, House Feu d'Ciel descended into tyranny and insanity as their rule went on. Eventually the great houses decided enough was enough, and rallied behind the Aiglot rebellion of 1031, which resulted in the apparent extinction of dragons--a beast created by magic, and not of demonic origin, as some would assume--and the mass-killing of every Feu d'Ciel, no matter how distant their relation. Even the children. Such was the people's fear of their power, and the hatred commanded by those who sought their end. The Aiglots melted down their former ruler's throne--a massive thing made of iron, molded to form a dragon's spread wings behind the ruler who sat it--reforging it in the image of an eagle, with shaped feathers replacing iron scales and etched leathery skin. It was dubbed the Stormwing Throne, and resides within Chaut de Talon, the Aiglot's castle in Centus. A number of [[Empyrean|Empyrean Steel]] blades belong to the family, including a pair that two twin brothers used to fight for their claims to the throne, long ago.

<div id = "header-text">The People's Republic of Vengard</div> A proud nation of warriors and builders that relies very little on modern magic to bolster its infrastructure, Vengard (pronounced venn-guard) is oft-maligned and scarcely-visited. A good portion of its landmass is cold and icy, which produces a hardy populace, if one that is rigidly set in its ways. Vengardian culture promotes honour and rigidity and has changed very little throughout the centuries, particularly in regards to the positions of women--they are not commonly permitted to serve as soldiers. Rather, their role is as mothers and to perform other labours, besides fighting. This has bled into the very treatment of women as a whole; Vengard has a uniquely patriarchal society, with such problems not as prominent or non-existent in other Phanoli nations. In older times, when Vengard was near-constantly at war with Telfrin, women were seen as the majority of the workforce, maintaining the country while the men would go off to war. There's a strong movement in the country that challenges this 'tradition', which continues to gain ground. Vengard is governed by an elected prime minister alongside a parliament of regional leaders from across the country. Said to be friendly towards Fallen, at the very least more so than Telfrin.

<div id = "header-text">Gelor</div> A Risen City named for the God of Winds, found in the furthest reaches of northern Phanol amidst a cluster of high mountains. The landmass itself floats just above the peak of Mount Heki, the tallest in the continent, surrounded by near-constant frosty winds. The people of Gelor are hardy and tough, weathered over the ages by the hostile conditions they inhabit, though advancements in Risen magic over the centuries have made the place more livable. Some might even call it a pleasant place to live: a wintry dreamscape, looking over the vastness of Telfrin and beyond. Gelor is famed for its stonework, from an age when those in the city would carve out chunks of the landmass and mountains close-by, making intricately detailed buildings from them leading to Gelor that boast some of the finest architectural design in all the world.

<div id = "header-text">The Risen Cities</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Gelor]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Sola]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Florre]]</div> The Risen Cities, each named for one of the Twelve Gods, are a supernatural phenomena the like of which exists nowhere else: each city sits suspended in the air, as if held up by invisible string. [[Empyrean Steel]] can only be forged within a Risen City. Each city boasts a differing setting, climate and culture, though most serve as hubs for trade and travel--others serve as mere tourist destinations, curiosities for those with too much money to spend to gawk at in return for a contribution to the city's economy. Some of the Risen Cities feature extensive, winding tunnels deep into their surfaces, likely built during a time before the cities were ever considered 'Risen', if some theorists are to be believed.

<div id = "header-text">Relationships</div> <<if $currentChapter >= 1>><div id = "subheader-text">Callen Edros</div> Your guardian<<if $mentor == "Callen">> and mentor<<else>><</if>>. Bladeweaver Master. Relationship level: $callenClose <<if $callenClose > 70>>You and Callen are closer than two bricks in a wall. He's got your back, with a funny anecdote when necessary.<<elseif $callenClose < 70 and $callenClose > 50>>You're on good terms with Callen. He's a constant, warm presence in your life, and you're very thankful for him.<<elseif $callenClose < 50 and $callenClose > 40>>You would hardly call your relationship with Callen //amazing//, but you get on.<<elseif $callenClose < 40>>You and Callen are like oil and water.<</if>> <div id = "subheader-text">Sonia Wierszy</div> Your guardian<<if $mentor == "Sonia">> and mentor<<else>><</if>>. Bladeweaver Master. Relationship level: $soniaClose <<if $soniaClose > 70>>You and Sonia are as thick as thieves. She's always there for you, whether you necessarily want her to be or not.<<elseif $soniaClose < 70 and $soniaClose > 50>>You're on good terms with Sonia. She's your biggest supporter, in a somewhat controlling, scorched-earth sort of way.<<elseif $soniaClose < 50 and $soniaClose > 40>>You aren't exactly //close// with Sonia, but things could certainly be worse.<<elseif $soniaClose < 40>>You and Sonia are like oil and water.<</if>><<else>>You are alone.<</if>> <<if $metAlyc == "true">><div id = "subheader-text">Alyc</div><<else>><</if>> <<if $metSam == "true">><div id = "subheader-text">Samuel Alban</div> <<if $currentChapter == 2>>A young boy who's just recently moved into Sola from his homeland of Abria.<<elseif $currentChapter == 3>>Your neighbour, and just about the only other child that lives on your street.<<else>><</if>> Relationship level: $samRelationship <<if $samRelationship > 55>>Sam considers you a good friend!<<elseif $samRelationship < 55 and $samRelationship > 45>>You and Sam could hardly be called close, but he's willing to make an effort to know you.<<else>>You and Sam are not friends.<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 1 and $samCrushrealise == "n">>You have feelings for Sam that you can't quite place.<<elseif $samRomance == 1 and $samCrushrealise == "y">>You have a crush on Sam.<<elseif $samRomance == 2 and $samCrushrealise == "n">>You have feelings for Sam that you can't quite place, and you've noticed the way he looks at you, those same unknowable feelings in his eyes.<<elseif $samRomance == 2 and $samCrushrealise == "y">>You have a crush on Sam, and it seems he has one on you, too, though you don't know it.<<else>><</if>><<else>><</if>> <<if $metCait == "true">><div id = "subheader-text">Caitlin Clary</div> <<if $currentChapter == 3>>A Vengardian girl and a freshly-minted Bladeweaver Apprentice, just like you.<<elseif $currentChapter == 4>>A third-year Bladeweaver Apprentice, living in Sola while she studies at the Academy.<</if>> Relationship level: $caitRelationship <<if $caitRelationship > 55>>Caitlin, while initially nervous, wants to be your friend.<<elseif $samRelationship < 55 and $samRelationship > 45>>You and Caitlin are familiar, but distant.<<else>>Caitlin would rather avoid you.<</if>> <<else>><</if>> <<if $metLucas == "true">><div id = "subheader-text">Lucas del Varro</div><<else>><</if>> <<if $metTalia == "true">><div id = "subheader-text">Talia Maren</div><<else>><</if>>

<<nobr>><<if $samRelationship > 100>><<set $samRelationship = 100>><</if>><<if $samRelationship < 0>><<set $samRelationship = 0>><</if>><<if $lucasRelationship > 100>><<set $lucasRelationship = 100>><</if>><<if $lucasRelationship < 0>><<set $lucasRelationship = 0>><</if>><<if $caitRelationship > 100>><<set $caitRelationship = 100>><</if>><<if $caitRelationship < 0>><<set $caitRelationship = 0>><</if>><<if $taliaRelationship > 100>><<set $taliaRelationship = 100>><</if>><<if $taliaRelationship < 0>><<set $taliaRelationship = 0>><</if>><<if $callenClose > 100>><<set $callenClose = 100>><</if>><<if $callenClose < 0>><<set $callenClose = 0>><</if>><<if $soniaClose > 100>><<set $soniaClose = 100>><</if>><<if $soniaClose < 0>><<set $soniaClose = 0>><</if>><<if $alycClose > 100>><<set $alycClose = 100>><</if>><<if $alycClose< 0>><<set $alycClose = 0>><</if>><<if $patient > 100>><<set $patient = 100>><</if>><<if $patient < 0>><<set $patient = 0>><</if>> <<if $volatile > 100>><<set $volatile = 100>><</if>><<if $volatile < 0>><<set $volatile = 0>><</if>> <<if $optimistic > 100>><<set $optimistic = 100>><</if>><<if $optimistic < 0>><<set $optimistic = 0>><</if>> <<if $chivalrous > 100>><<set $chivalrous = 100>><</if>><<if $chivalrous < 0>><<set $chivalrous = 0>><</if>> <<if $stubborn > 100>><<set $stubborn = 100>><</if>><<if $stubborn < 0>><<set $stubborn = 0>><</if>> <<if $cautious > 100>><<set $cautious = 100>><</if>><<if $cautious < 0>><<set $cautious = 0>><</if>> <<if $cold > 100>><<set $cold = 100>><</if>><<if $cold < 0>><<set $cold = 0>><</if>> <<if $sarcastic > 100>><<set $sarcastic = 100>><</if>><<if $sarcastic < 0>><<set $sarcastic = 0>><</if>> <<if $honesty > 100>><<set $honesty = 100>><</if>><<if $honesty < 0>><<set $honesty = 0>><</if>><</nobr>>

__Character Icons__ 🐺 - Callen 🦅 - Sonia 🪄 - Archer 🌞 - Samuel 🪓 - Caitlin 🦉 - Lucas 🐍 - Talia 🪶 - A secret character! + or - indicates relationship gain or loss with that character respectively. Personality modifiers and stat changes are shown at the end of a link. For example, (Chivalrous +) will increase your character's chivalrous stat. A greater number of pluses or minuses indicate a greater change. Stat checks are signified by the required stat in full capital letters inside brackets. For example: (STRENGTH) would signify a strength check, while (Strength +) is an option that would increase your strength stat. Romantic choices are shown with ❤️ alongside the character the choice is directed at. A choice that locks you into a romance will show 💗, though you will also be able to deny this romance at different stages with a choice that shows 💔. Being at different stages in a romance will create different reactions from the RO. The relationship will begin with your character developing feelings, and can progress when the desired character will develop their own. This means that ROs will start off oblivious to your feelings, but eventually come to have their own about you. These can be obvious or unknown to the two of you. Choices with 🔥are only available if you are romantically interested in an RO, and give special scenes and dialogue, but they ''do not'' progress romances. For example, 🌞+❤️ would indicate a romantic choice towards Sam that also increases his relationship. 🐍-❤️ would indicate a romantic choice towards Talia that also decreases her relationship. ''Romances can be developed independent of friendship level, leading to unique situations. Romance points cannot be taken away, only added. However, it is your choice to start/end romances. In this case, your romance points will be set to zero to avoid any romantic interactions, though the former feelings or relationship may still be referenced.''

<div id = "header-text">The Federation of Mestiria</div> Mestiria (pronounced mess-tee-ria) troubled nation, born from a [[border war|The Border Wars]] between Telfrin and Vengard, made up of Mestirian natives and military deserters from both nations. The land itself is fertile and lends itself well to farming, and it has bountiful game for hunting--for those brave enough to venture into its labyrinthine jungles. It has no strict leader and is instead made up of several smaller states and tribes, but is no less secure for it. Mestiria's borders are fiercely defended by its inhabitants in a display of extraordinary collaboration. It is not an uncommon belief that a majority of Mestiria's prominent figures are secretly funded or at the very least supported by Abria's secretive intelligence agency. Mestiria's land is plentiful and fit for farmland, something Telfrin finds itself sorely lacking. A few towns and territories within Mestiria even boast a strong [[Abrian|The Abrian Empire]] presence. Despite previous engagements, Telfrini war-parties have found themselves harried out of the Mestir border by a surprisingly well-equipped military, intimately familiar with the land they fight upon.

<div id = "header-text">The Border Wars</div> A collection of wars, spread over a period of multiple decades or even centuries, centreed around border disputes--mainly those of Telfrin and Abria. A few wars have been fought between Mestiria and Telfrin, and before that, Vengard and Telfrin. The most recent war, a small but bloody skirmish that lasted two years, broke out in 1470 and ended with Abria gaining a not insignificant amount of land to the north of Phanol, gaining ground on Telfrin. The king of Telfrin at the time, Alois IV, opted not to continue this conflict, due to the relative uselessness of the land taken, and surrendered the land to then-Emperor Jeor in return for a trade agreement--one that their successors seem reluctant to uphold. The result of this storied history of wars between Telfrin and Abria have led to the two nations having a poor relationship, though not an actively hostile one.

<div id = "header-text">World History</div> <div id ="subheader-text">[[The Rise]] - Unknown date</div> <div id ="subheader-text">[[The Border Wars]] - Late 1300s to mid 1400s</div>

<div id = "header-text">The Rise</div> Little is truly known of the tumultuous events of ancient history, written to have lead to an event now known as The Rise, in which the twelve Gods departed the material plane, causing a number of drastic changes in the natural order. Namely, the twelve [[Risen Cities]] (each later named for a patron God) were formed as large chunks of land separated from the earth, rising above the ground suspended by Risen magic. After this, it is documented that the first Risen magic practitioners started popping up--those able to manipulate the power of the newly formed Veil--a vibrant aurora that flashes across Phanol's night sky. The world below suffered a scourge of demonic power for dozens of centuries, even after the proper formation of the Bladeweaver's Order. It is only relatively recently that the world has been supposedly free of this blight. During a time spanning from around 1105 to 1279, the Bladeweaver's Order grew in power and reach, hunting demonkind far more aggressively and effectively. As is Phanoli tradition, the period was simplified to encapsulate all 200 years between 1100 and 1300. This era later became known as the Age of Hunts, full of new heroic legends. Though, what truly happened millennia ago remains a mystery. Places, names, locations are jumbled. Various sources prove to be reliable and unreliable in the same breath, almost as if they were intentionally tampered with. Legend has blended with truth to create an altogether murky view of what truly came before.

<div id = "header-text">Creatures and Terms</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Terms]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Creatures]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Demonkind]]</div>

<div id = "header-text">Terms</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Empyrean Steel]]</div> //To be expanded upon.//

<div id = "header-text">Creatures</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Kiff]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Norigan]]</div>

These 'Fallen' can perform what is known Willful magic, an entirely different school that Functional magic users cannot wield at all. It's altogether weaker than Functional magic which has been put to use in great feats of utility across Phanol, but is far more useful in combat. No, Functional magic is the art of potions, wards and rituals, taking preparation and careful study to perform effectively, while Willful magic is the work of a sorcerer, volatile and unpredictable, though instantly cast. A Willful magic user is just as likely to perform a healing miracle out of nowhere with zero preparations or incantations required as they are to accidentally set something on fire. For this, they are treated with a mix of fear and for some, envy. Curiously, Fallen are physically unable to enter Risen Cities. Those who have tried to enter collapsed upon the attempt, screaming in pain and babbling unintelligibly until they were taken out of the city. Common stigma around Fallen is given strength by the Empyrean Churches, present all over Phanol, believing the twelve Gods' warring to have been righteous and that they will one day return as a unified figure, free of any warlike ambitions. A better God. Some nations, such as the Abrian Empire in the northeastern peninsula of Phanol, welcome Fallen freely, seeing value in their abilities and sanctioning the usage of their magic with proper training and supervision. This fear mainly stems from the popular religious belief that those capable of Functional magic--the same magic that keeps the Risen Cities in the air, cast before records began--were given the gift of it by the twelve Gods upon their ascension after their war with The Thirteenth, a gift that will remain even when the Gods return in the form of one vessel--dubbed the Ascendant in scripture. Conversely, they believe Fallen are demonspawn: A cursed people bearing the mark of The Thirteenth while wielding their dead master's dwindling magic. Although, Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen have recently mentioned--in conversations that more than likely weren't intended for your ears--that as of late, those who wield that fearful magic have begun to grow in strength, if only slightly. The Empyrean Church, with hubs situated across the entire continent, happily stokes the flames of such fears. [[That's worrying. You believe what the churches say about Fallen and the Gods. If they're becoming stronger, what could it mean?|Chap1Scene27][$chap1Religion to 0]] [[You're not sure any of this religious stuff is even real. Who's to know what really happened more than a thousand years ago, or if Fallen really are what the churches say they are?|Chap1Scene27][$chap1Religion to 1]]

A peculiar, turqouise-tinged metal that never tarnishes or loses its edge, and possesses various otherworldy properties. Because of its unique colouration, it is informally referred to as 'greensteel' by many. It is more durable than any known material, and there is a long-standing legend that Empyrean steel is made even stronger when soaked in demonblood--the more potent and often, the better. Empyrean steel can only be forged in the core of a Risen City, the fires within the magical centre being the source of the steel's properties. The steel itself is inherently magical, capable of dispelling attacks created by Fallen practitioners, as well as being able to harm demonkind and Fallen alike more effectively than regular steel. Empyrean Steel's true power is drawn out when it undergoes a ritual known as Bleeding. The future wielder's blood is drawn several times in advance of the Empyrean weapon's creation and, once ready, the white-hot steel is submerged in a mixture of blood and quenching oil in a process oft-unspoken of outside the Order's walls. An Empyrean blade can be re-attuned to the blood of another, in cases such as a Master giving their blade away to their apprentice upon their graduation from the Order. Otherwise, a new blade will be forged. This leads to the metal itself becoming 'attuned' to the blood of the one it was quenched in, and all others who might share that blood. Attunement unlocks Empyrean's true splendour: its impossible weight-shifting abilities. An attuned blade will seem several times lighter to its wielder, meaning a greatsword will suddenly be about as easy to wield as a shortsword. Conversely, the weapon's weight is multiplied upon anything else--making them extremely difficult weapons to steal, as well as absurdly dangerous to fight against, since that weight is also applied with a swing of the weapon. A strike with an ordinary warhammer that would crumple an armoured opponent could potentially annihilate several people at once, or punch through a stone wall like paper. This peculiar weight-shifting ability means Bladeweavers often train with wooden weapons that mimic the lighter weight of Empyrean armaments, though they do a healthy amount of training with heavier steel ones as well. After all, not all who become Bladeweavers stay that way, and most Empyrean steel blades are owned by the Order. Very few outside of the Order's reach possess Empyrean steel. On rare occasions, someone rich enough may be able to buy their blade. This is seen in cases such as the del Varro sabre, as well as other notable family weapons. The Kingdom of Telfrin's Inquisitorium also employs the use of Empyrean steel, though in its base form--without the magical weight-shifting properties afforded by Bleeding. They wield small Empyrean daggers used to subdue Fallen alongside Empyrean shackles, for more rowdy prisoners. It is no coincidence that the most prestigious Bladeweaver academies reside in Risen Cities that float within Telfrini territory. There is no fear of these blades one day being Bled, as they would have to be heated to the point of near-melting for the process to be effective, which is impossible without the use of a Risen City's core: the only source of flame hot enough to melt Empyrean.

A common feline creature most commonly found in temperate, grassy areas, such as Middle Telfrin and much of the Abrian peninsula. Kiff are small, striped beasts, the size of a medium dog with a preternatural aggressiveness. They usually hunt in packs and are hypervigilant, attacking anything they deem a threat with their razor-sharp claws and large, puncturing front teeth which jut from their mouths like fangs. They are sleek, with short rough fur and bear a distinctive high-pitched whining growl to ward off potential predators. They are considered vermin, though they try to stay away from more populated areas--alas, recent human expansion has pushed colonies of kiff into having to hunt closer and closer to towns, with some even popping up in Risen Cities due to incidents at Sky Lift stations. It is said that kiff will pursue you endlessly, until you are either dead or they drop from exhaustion, earning them a reputation as a 'vengeful hunter'.

A massive, winged beast the size of a house. Their body is like that of a wolverine with a bull's head, long spiralling horns jutting out. Their limbs are long and thick, capable of grabbing prey from the ground. Covered in thick, dark fur, norigan have become something of a folk-tale. Despite common misconception, they are not demonic in nature, having been sighted after the Age of Hunts, where any demons their size would surely have been annihilated. They are exceedingly rare, making their nests in the highest mountains and swooping down to grab unsuspecting prey with the beat of massive, thundering wings. They don't often take humans, though their fearsome size and beastly appearance have made them into a warning for young children not to stay outside at night. Norigan are nocturnal, and only hunt when it's dark, their mottled brown fur providing good camouflage against the night sky. Norigan can stand on their hind legs, or on all fours if they need to run quickly. Their call is rumbling and scratchy, like the sound of steel on a grindstone. Norigan are mammalian, having only one or two cubs at a time--this, along with a low chance of survivability while young in the harsh wilds they inhabit, results in their populations being incredibly sparse. Tales of people hunting norigan and surviving are rare but the odd man-sized head, mounted on a wall, is proof of the rare success.

<div id = "header-text">Demonkind</div> The common descriptor used to identify demonkind is "those who burn at the touch of Empyrean". While this once served well in a time when Fallen were tolerated even less than they are now, the description is somewhat outdated--it is now common belief that, while Fallen aren't strictly //human//, they are not considered to be demons. Demons have varying levels of intelligence, with some specialized creatures able to mostly mimic human behaviour. There are two primary 'species' of demon: Major, and minor. Major demons are considerably powerful, more so than a Fallen individual, sometimes with an intelligence equivalent to an adult human. Usually, a major demon's weakness is either its intelligence or its abilities, though there exist those with both in abundance--these are the truly dangerous ones. Major demons are all unique, with very few ever being similar. Some possess forms mimicking that of a human, in cases where they would require blending in to suit their purposes, while their true form is equally as monstrous as the next major demon. Minor demons are weaker, more plentiful, and categorizable. Creatures such as the [[basilisk|Basilisks]], [[carrion-hawk|Carrion-Hawks]] and [[scorcher|Scorchers]] fall under this umbrella, exhibiting animal-like behaviour and breeding patterns. Conversely, major demons have never been known to breed, and their origins are shrouded in mystery. Major demons are capable of a great deal of magical feats thought restricted to the realm of Functional magic, and some even beyond that. Curses are one of these such phenomena, their exact nature unclear but their consequences often leading to ruination. Tales of a third class of demon, the //arch-demon//, have been told for as long as records have been kept, but are dismissed as mere fantasy. Such a thing would be exceedingly rare, and not capable of being classified in such a way. Even still, ancient legends, the product of mere spoken word, tell of creatures yet //more// fearsome than even this.

<div id = "header-text">Basilisks</div> A lizard-like creature that walks upon chicken legs, with a scaled, long body. Young basilisks are infamous for their paralysing bite--leaving the affected area numb and unable to move for hours at a time. Multiple bites from young basilisks can even induce full-body paralysis, potentially leading to death via suffocation. Older basilisks develop a petrifying bite, that turns the affected area into a stone-like substance, though the effect wears off after a few hours, just like paralysis. A higher number of bites can lead to a longer petrification time. The outcome of their immobilising bites is due to the nature of their hunt--basilisks often live in dens, paralysing or petrifying prey to bring home to feed upon in safety. Petrified victims are often broken into pieces and de-petrified using a special antivenom produced within the basilisk's body--a substance crucial in curing the effects of a basilisk's bite quickly. Of course, paralysed victims are also consumed once dragged back to the den--if they're lucky, they will not feel that they're being feasted upon.

<div id = "header-text">Carrion-Hawks</div> //Incomplete.//

<div id = "header-text">Scorchers</div> Scorchers take many forms, though they have one common trait--their burning-hot skin. Capable of melting steel if held too close, their bodies exert an unnaturally high level of heat when threatened. To kill a scorcher, one should attack from a distance and, ideally, undetected. They tend to move unpredictably owing to their variation in size and form, ranging from the size of a cat to beasts taller than a man.

<div id = "header-text">Sola</div> Sola, named for the God of Sun and Light, is a diverse mercantile Risen City located just off the Telfrini coast, above the city of Alposa. The bulk of the Bladeweaver presence in Telfrin is headquartered here, being the largest Risen City in the nation and near the most populous areas of Telfrin. It also houses the Order's most prestigious academy. It boasts the furthest distance between land and city of all Risen Cities, though [[Gelor]] is technically higher. To accommodate its immense elevation, Sola was outfitted with powerful wards that keep the harsh winds at bay and stave off the worst of the cold come Winter. Travel to and from the city is performed via Sky Lifts--magically-guided vehicles that float along a magical thread that connects the city to various destinations below. Sola boasts three stations for these Sky Lifts in total, each in a different region of the city's perimeter. It is likely that ancient inhabitants of Sola rode flying beasts to travel to and from the landmass itself before the Sky Lifts were implemented, due to murals in the older sections of the city having been discovered that depicted people riding great, hulking winged beasts. Sola is home to people from all nations, though its population is primarily Telfrini. These people have made the city their home and their workplace, selling wares and commodities from their homeland in a melting pot of culture, fashion, riches and, though it's oft-whispered, political intrigue.

<div id = "header-text">Florre</div> A Risen City, named for the God of life, in all its many forms.

<div id = "header-text">Prominent Figures of Phanol</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[The Twelve Gods]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[King Thibau II of Telfrin|Thibau II]]</div> <<if $currentChapter >= 2>><div id = "header-text">A World of Dreams</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Druso]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[Rion]]</div><<else>><</if>> //Incomplete.//

<div id = "header-text">The Twelve Gods</div> Gelor, of Cold and Frost. The pale watcher. Ventol, of Winds and Storms. Stone lady of dutiful chaos. Moro, of Death and Loss. She-in-shadow. Florre, of Birth and Life. Herald of all that grows. Aquonar, of Water and Rivers. Mistress of the current. Anmor, of Love and Friendship. A kind embrace; a shaken hand. Sola, of the Sun and Light. He shines upon all. Igna, of Flame and Heat. Test not Her burn. Zofin, of Wisdom and Knowledge. Mindful eye of all that was. Noctome, of the Moon and Night. A mid-night's chill. Pacen, of Peace and Stability. An empty scabbard. Belrom, of War and Change. The steady march of time. The twelve months of the Phanoli calendar are named for each God. A year begins with the month of Gelor, and ends with the month of Belrom. The Gods are no longer present in the world, and the prevalent theory amongst priests and scholars is that they wait beyond the mystical Veil, a flashing patchwork of light and colour in the night sky and the greatest power in the world. The Ascendant will bring The Twelve back. Or so they say.

<<set $cyclingchoice = 0>>Before you begin, please select your preferred method of link appearance. There are two options: Cycling text, like <span id="cycle"><<cycle "$blegh" autoselect>> <<option "this" "gum">> <<option "where the text changes in the middle of a sentence to reflect your choice" "gum2">> <</cycle>></span> or Dropdown menus, like <<listbox "$blegh2" autoselect>> <<option "this" "mug">> <<option "where the choice is part of a list where you can choose from, and see, every option at once" "mug2">> <</listbox>> The second option is more friendly to those using screen readers and those who might miss a cycling link, while the first option is more immersive and flows better with the text. Cycling links are also more mobile-friendly. With Bladeweaver in a beta state, I would like to implement the possibility of changing this at will, but for now this choice needs to be made here, before the game starts. Make your choice below. [[Cycling text|IntroChoiceOption2][$cyclingchoice to 0]] [[Dropdown menus|IntroChoiceOption2][$cyclingchoice to 1]]

<div id = "header-text">Druso of Ki'Inya</div> <<if $currentChapter >= 2>> A man you've glimpsed the memories of through the realm of dreams. Dark-featured and tall--unusually so for his time and location, apparently. Sworn to the service of [[Rion]].<<else>><</if>>

<div id = "header-text">Rion, The Sunbird</div> <<if $currentChapter >= 2>> A mysterious figure, glimpsed only through your dreams from the perspective of [[Druso]]. Golden-eyed, golden-skinned and ethereally beautiful, they are unlike any person you've ever seen--that's without mentioning the glittery wings sprouting from their back. Just who //is// this?<<else>><</if>>

Callen starts in his seat when a sharp knock sounds on his bedroom's door. Looking sharply to his right, he's greeted by the sight of Sonia leaning against his doorframe--his door, as usual, is open. "Don't need to knock when it's open, lass." He mutters softly, <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>adjusting a freshly-applied bandage around his head, the white cloth soft against his sun-worn skin.<<else>>adjusting his hair quickly, the greyish-brown strands tied neatly into a bun at the back of his head.<</if>> "I like seeing you jump. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Plus, I got you some of the fish you like, so I've earned this." She responds, matter-of-factly.<<else>>I've earned it." She responds, matter-of-factly.<</if>> "When did ye turn into such a cruel hag?" Callen sighs, chuckling in the back of his throat when Sonia scoffs at his insult. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>His eyes glint at the mention of the fish she'd bought.<<else>>"An' after I take a trip to the butcher's for ya..." He grumbles.<</if>> "When this haggard old man decided to take me in, if I recall." She scratches her chin sagely, and it's both of their turns to chuckle at that one. Callen stands, pushing the chair at his desk back with the groaning sound of wood on wood. "How's the $callenChild?" Sonia nods to her right, where $firstname's bedroom can be found. The soft sloshing of water can be heard from inside, where the $child is getting ready for the evening. "Washing, I expect." She steps into the room a little, no longer leaning on the frame. "We need a bigger bath for $them, Cal. Kid can hardly get //in// the thing anymore. It's like watching you try to squeeze into decade-old clothes." "Unkind." Callen pouts. "When d'they even find the //time// to grow, lass?" He sighs. "Feels like last week we could wash $them in a damned bowl..." Sonia runs a hand through her hair, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passing over the barely inch-long strands. She'd managed to tidy it up a tad, giving her hair a more uniform appearance. She frowns again at the prospect of having to go out as she is, but a look from Callen quashes any doubt she might bring up.<<else>>passing through her ashen strands. Habitually, she tucks a swoop of hair passing infront of her face behind her ear, though it comes loose again almost immediately.<</if>> "Some day you'll be old and weak, watching $them accept $their Master's badge." She waits a beat. "I'll still be kicking, of course." "I was waitin' for that last bit. Unkind //and// cruel." He chides, the sad subject matter temporarily pushed to the back of his mind. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He is away from home far more often than Sonia is, as the Order allows her reduced duties to raise $firstname. When he returns after a few weeks of being on the surface, he's reminded of the time spent apart from the $child and Sonia, each of them having changed in a minor way--a haircut here, a new scrape or cut there. They're aging, growing, and he's not going to be there to see all of it. He may be improving as a warrior from his time spent in battle, but in his role as a parent, a //guardian//? He feels he is failing. He chews his lip uncertainly, but the doubt suddenly leaves his mind with only a cold emptiness left to fill the void. A Debt is owed.<<else>>Sonia is away from home far more often than he is, as the Order allows him reduced duties to raise $firstname. When she returns after a few weeks of being on the surface, he knows she mourns the time lost, the milestones missed in favour of serving the Order. The $child is aging, growing, and she's not going to be there to see all of it. Her skills as a warrior, even now, are surpassing his from her time spent in battle, but he knows she feels she is failing in her role as a parent, a guardian. He chews his lip uncertainly, but the doubt suddenly leaves his mind with only a cold emptiness left to fill the void. A Debt is owed.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene47]]

Sonia opts to break the sudden silence. "You know what's coming up soon, Cal?" She asks nonchalantly, expecting him to indeed know without asking. "Plenty o' things, lass. Archie's birthday, anniversary o' the Frost's End massacre, though you're probably not excited about either o' those." He chuckles. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"All this time lazing around with the kid up here and you still don't know when it's coming, Cal?" She admonishes, eyes narrowed in a slightly disappointed frown. "The solstice? Any of that stuff? The //Festival of Light//? Doesn't ring a bell?" She accompanies each question with a new raised finger, waggling them around in his face when she takes another step closer. Callen sputters, batting her away softly with an amused smile. "I don't pay much attention to all that religious stuff, lass. Ye know that." "Well, I'm no //devout// either, Gods know the Twelve haven't done much for us," she grumbles, "but it's still a festival, innit? That's basically your //thing//, Cal." "Eh, I'll go with you an' the $callenChild if $they wants, but I'm in no rush..." He reasons. Sonia, suprisingly, chuckles. He looks at her suspiciously. "What do ye know that I don't...?" "Cal, you've been called up to fight in the exhibition, you dumbarse. Do you not check our letters?" Sonia chides, crossing her arms and sitting on his bed. His eyes widen. "I have?!" She falls back on the bed, cackling lowly. "How the hell did you last as long as you did before meeting me, huh?" She says as she sits up, shaking her head. "Luck, I suppose." He shrugs, standing up and tugging Sonia off of his bed. "I //just// made that," he mumbles, frowning. "So, what'll your answer be?" Sonia asks curiously, following Callen out of the room as he snaps his rust-coloured doublet up, straightening the sleeves on the stiff black shirt that he oft-never wears. "One moment, lass." Callen bashes a fist against $firstname's door twice, calling in, "Five more minutes, $callenChild! Y'need to be dried off an' ready before yer Aunt Sonia comes up, or ye'll be goin' there as you are!" <<if $cold >= 50>>"You wouldn't!" An indignant, shrill voice calls from within, though the sloshing of the water increases in tempo. Callen and Sonia share a successful glance.<<else>>I'll hurry up!" A hurried, shrill voice calls from within as the sloshing of the water increases in tempo. Callen and Sonia share a successful glance.<</if>> "Why do you have to make //me// the scary one?" She huffs. "Ye're so good at it!" Callen reasons, bumping his much larger shoulder against hers, though he has to stoop a little to get the desired effect. "So?" Sonia says after regaining her balance, "What will you tell them?" "The only thing I can, I suppose. I'll have t'do it, won't I?" He shrugs. "It's just a bit of fightin' in some arena, really." "That's usually how it goes," Sonia muses, "I don't expect they'll have you in the joust or anything like that, but they want our best to show off to the crowds and I'm out of commission until my leg gets better." Callen's eyes widen. "Your leg?" "Damn bloodbirds got that too." She admits. "I didn't want to worry the kid, is all." Callen gives her a pointed, long stare, but just sighs, defeated. "Must've hurt like hell stompin' up the stairs before, eh?" She leans in close, grimacing. "Like you wouldn't believe."<<else>>"All this time lazing around with the kid up here and you still don't know when it's coming, Cal?" She admonishes, eyes narrowed in a slightly disappointed frown. "The solstice? Any of that stuff? The //Festival of Light//? Doesn't ring a bell?" She accompanies each question with a new raised finger, waggling them around in his face when she takes another step closer. Callen sputters, batting her away softly with an amused smile. "I don't pay much attention to all that religious stuff, lass. Ye know that." "Well, I'm no //devout// either, Gods know the Twelve haven't done much for us," she grumbles, "but it's still a festival, innit? That's basically your //thing//, Cal." "Eh, I'll go with you an' the $callenChild if $they wants, but I'm in no rush..." He reasons. Sonia, suprisingly, chuckles. He looks at her suspiciously. "What do ye know that I don't...?" "I'm glad you're so excited to go, you old fart. Would it help if I said I'd be part of the exhibition?" She looks at him expectantly, smirking. His eyes widen. "Ye are?!" He says, standing. She shrugs, throwing her arms out. "It's what I do now. I'm a //gladiator//." "Must be an honour, eh? Yer first exhibition for the Order..." "Oh, it is. I wonder how much sooner I might've had the chance if //something// was different." She replies glibly. She follows Callen out of the room as he snaps his rust-coloured doublet up, straightening the sleeves on his shirt, still stiff as if it were new. "One moment, lass." Callen bashes a fist against $firstname's door twice, calling in, "Five more minutes, $callenChild! Y'need to be dried off an' ready before yer Aunt Sonia comes up, or ye'll be goin' there as you are!" <<if $cold >= 50>>"You wouldn't!" An indignant, shrill voice calls from within, though the sloshing of the water increases in tempo. Callen and Sonia share a successful glance.<<else>>I'll hurry up!" A hurried, shrill voice calls from within as the sloshing of the water increases in tempo. Callen and Sonia share a successful glance.<</if>> "Why do you have to make //me// the scary one?" She huffs. "Ye're so good at it!" Callen reasons, bumping his much larger shoulder against hers, though he has to stoop a little to get the desired effect. "So, what're ye gonna do?" She shrugs in acceptance of his words, stumbling from his bump. "I'm going to say yes, thought it's not like I had much choice otherwise..." She mumbles, as Callen bites his lip. "I thought ye'd be jumpin' at the chance, lass. Y'said it was an honour just now!" "It //is//! Can't help but feel like it's just a spectacle, at the end of the day. I'll probably have to fight one of the boring Masters, and follow a bunch of rules." She scowls. Callen chuckles at that. "I'm sure ye'll be fine once everyone's cheerin' for ya." She nods, placated. "That'll help."<</if>> The two of them, now mostly ready, head downstairs once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene48]]

Not intending to let Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen make good on their threat, you rush through your 'bath', making sure you're at the very least clean before drying yourself off using a handy wind-generating device. It makes your hair fly off in practically every direction and you work hard to tame the errant <<if $hairtexture == "straight" or $hairtexture == "wavy">>strands<<elseif $hairtexture == "loosely curled" or $hairtexture == "tightly curled">>curls<<elseif $hairtexture == "coiled">>coils<</if>> with a wooden comb before hurriedly dressing yourself. <<if $agab == "male">>Looking to your bed, you find a fancy outfit has already been laid out for you, normally stored in Uncle Callen's wardrobe for special occasions such as tonight. It comprises a doublet in your favourite colour, <<listbox "$favcolour" autoselect>> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "dark red" "dark red">> <<option "orange" "orange">> <<option "yellow" "yellow">> <<option "blue" "blue">> <<option "dark blue" "dark blue">> <<option "green" "green">> <<option "dark green" "dark green">> <<option "pink" "pink">> <<option "violet" "violet">> <<option "white" "white">> <<option "black" "black">> <<option "brown" "brown">> <<option "grey" "grey">> <<option "turquoise" "turquoise">> <<option "gold "gold">> <<option "silver "silver">><</listbox>> , along with a pair of dark breeches and some fancy shoes, adorned with silver buckles. You'd picked the outfit out yourself at a nearby tailor's shop (though not Sunstrand, Uncle Callen had insisted) where you spent longer than anyone ought to being prodded, poked and measured. You couldn't lift your arms above your head for a while afterwards. At least it got you out of training.<<else>>Looking to your bed, you find a fancy outfit has already been laid out for you, normally stored in Uncle Callen's wardrobe for special occasions such as tonight. It comprises a short, embroidered kirtle in your favourite colour, <<listbox "$favcolour" autoselect>> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "dark red" "dark red">> <<option "orange" "orange">> <<option "yellow" "yellow">> <<option "blue" "blue">> <<option "dark blue" "dark blue">> <<option "green" "green">> <<option "dark green" "dark green">> <<option "pink" "pink">> <<option "violet" "violet">> <<option "white" "white">> <<option "black" "black">> <<option "brown" "brown">> <<option "grey" "grey">> <<option "turquoise" "turquoise">> <<option "gold "gold">> <<option "silver "silver">> <</listbox>>along with a light skirt in the same style and some fancy shoes, adorned with silvery buckles. You'd picked the outfit yourself at a nearby tailor's shop (though not Sunstrand, Uncle Callen was adamant) where you spent longer than anyone ought to being prodded, poked and measured. Afterwards, you couldn't lift your arms properly for a day or two. At least it got you out of training.<</if>> Once you've wriggled into your fancy getup, you shuffle over to a mirror hung on your wall, about as tall as you. Suddenly, a quick knock sounds at your door, causing you to whip around a little too quickly. "You decent, kid?" Aunt Sonia's slightly dulled tone sounds out from behind the thick wood. [["You can come in!" You call out.|Chap2Scene49]] [["Oh, um, yes?" You respond after a moment. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene49a][$cautious to $cautious + 3]] [["Nope!" You yell with a giggle. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene49b][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 2]]

Moments later, your door clicks and swings open, the old hinges whining softly as they shift. Aunt Sonia then shifts past and leans against the doorframe, looking out at you from the corner of your bedroom. <<if $soniaRelationship >= 55>>You smile and wave at her, turning so she can inspect your outfit for the night.<<elseif $soniaRelationship <= 54 and $soniaRelationship >= 46>>You turn to her, letting her inspect your outfit for the night.<<elseif $soniaRelationsihp <= 45>>You glance at her for a moment, but go right back to checking how you look in the mirror. "Turn and look at me for a moment, if you'd be so kind." Her voice, clear and low, sounds out again and you're certain she catches your scowl in the mirror before you turn, but opts not to say anything about it.<</if>> She scrutinizes you for a moment, before her green eyes wrinkle. "My, my. What a <<if $agab == "male">>handsome young man you are! How'd you get rid of the imp that lived here?" She asks with mock-awe, covering her mouth with a single hand.<<else>>lovely young lady you are! How'd you get rid of the imp that lived here?" She asks with mock-awe, covering her mouth with a single hand.<</if>> <<link `"<q>I'm not an //imp//!</q> " + "You gasp. (Volatile +)"`>> <<set $volatile to $volatile + 3>> <<goto Chap2Scene50a>> <</link>> <<link `"<q>I drowned $them.</q> " + "You deadpan. (Sarcastic +)"`>> <<set $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3>> <<goto Chap2Scene50b>> <</link>> [[Giggle at her antics. She can be silly when she wants to be. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene50c][$volatile to $volatile - 4]]

"Ah, well. I used to swaddle you. Nothing I haven't seen before." She reasons, and you giggle again. After a second, your door clicks and swings open, the old hinges whining softly as they shift. Aunt Sonia then shifts past and leans against the doorframe, looking out at you from the corner of your bedroom. "Usually I don't like being wrong, but this time I'm glad." She smirks. <<if $soniaRelationship >= 55>>You smile and wave at her, turning so she can inspect your outfit for the night.<<elseif $soniaRelationship <= 54 and $soniaRelationship >= 46>>You turn to her, letting her inspect your outfit for the night.<<elseif $soniaRelationsihp <= 45>>You glance at her for a moment, but go right back to checking how you look in the mirror. "Turn and look at me for a moment, if you'd be so kind." Her voice, clear and low, sounds out again and you're certain she catches your scowl in the mirror before you turn, but opts not to say anything about it.<</if>> She scrutinizes you for a moment, before her green eyes wrinkle. "My, my. What a <<if $agab == "male">>handsome young man you are! How'd you get rid of the imp that lived here?" She asks with mock-awe, covering her mouth with a single hand.<<else>>lovely young lady you are! How'd you get rid of the imp that lived here?" She asks with mock-awe, covering her mouth with a single hand.<</if>> <<link `"<q>I'm not an //imp//!</q> " + "You gasp. (Volatile +)"`>> <<set $volatile to $volatile + 3>> <<goto Chap2Scene50a>> <</link>> <<link `"<q>I drowned $them.</q> " + "You deadpan. (Sarcastic +)"`>> <<set $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3>> <<goto Chap2Scene50b>> <</link>> [[Giggle at her antics. She can be silly when she wants to be. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene50c][$volatile to $volatile - 4]]

"You don't sound so sure, kid." Her voice calls out again, carrying a dubious tone. "I don't wanna traumatize myself any more, is all." She chuckles drily at her own joke behind the door. "You can come in..." You grumble, embarrassed. After a second, your door clicks and swings open, the old hinges whining softly as they shift. Aunt Sonia then shifts past and leans against the doorframe, looking out at you from the corner of your bedroom. <<if $soniaRelationship >= 55>>You smile and wave at her, turning so she can inspect your outfit for the night.<<elseif $soniaRelationship <= 54 and $soniaRelationship >= 46>>You turn to her, letting her inspect your outfit for the night.<<elseif $soniaRelationsihp <= 45>>You glance at her for a moment, but go right back to checking how you look in the mirror. "Turn and look at me for a moment, if you'd be so kind." Her voice, clear and low, sounds out again and you're certain she catches your scowl in the mirror before you turn, but opts not to say anything about it.<</if>> She scrutinizes you for a moment, before her green eyes wrinkle. "My, my. What a <<if $agab == "male">>handsome young man you are! How'd you get rid of the imp that lived here?" She asks with mock-awe, covering her mouth with a single hand.<<else>>lovely young lady you are! How'd you get rid of the imp that lived here?" She asks with mock-awe, covering her mouth with a single hand.<</if>> <<link `"<q>I'm not an //imp//!</q> " + "You gasp. (Volatile +)"`>> <<set $volatile to $volatile + 3>> <<goto Chap2Scene50a>> <</link>> <<link `"<q>I drowned $them.</q> " + "You deadpan. (Sarcastic +)"`>> <<set $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3>> <<goto Chap2Scene50b>> <</link>> [[Giggle at her antics. She can be silly when she wants to be. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene50c][$volatile to $volatile - 4]]

She nods at you like you've said something extremely obvious. "I know //you're// not, but the last kid here was a real handful, so thanks a bunch for getting rid of them." "You aren't funny..." You huff, and her smirk grows as she continues the joke. "Would you like to accompany me to a ball tonight, <<if $agab == "male">>milord<<else>>milady<</if>>?" //Charisma...// <<if $charisma >= 1>>//Success//. "It's <<if $agab == "male">>//my lord//, not milord.<<else>>//my lady//, not milady.<</if>>" You correct her. She whistles, mock-bowing. "My apologies, I didn't realise I was standing before King Thibau himself! How go your kingly duties and all that?" You shrug. "Pretty good. Are we going soon?"<<else>>//Failure//. "Yes, please." You grin slyly. "You look like you need the help." Aunt Sonia's eyes narrow but she keeps the joke running, surprisingly. "Your chivalry's much appreciated, good ser." "Are we going soon?" You ask, breaking the joke yourself.<</if>> "Just as soon as your Uncle Callen gives you the thumbs-up." She nods. [[Next|Chap2Scene51]]

Aunt Sonia's eyes widen and she coughs out a surprised laugh as her playful act comes completely undone. You smile to yourself and she struggles to recover, looking down at you warily. "Well, you're definitely capable then. Would you like to accompany me to a ball tonight, <<if $agab == "male">>milord<<else>>milady<</if>>?" //Charisma...// <<if $charisma >= 1>>//Success//. "It's <<if $agab == "male">>//my lord//, not milord.<<else>>//my lady//, not milady.<</if>>" You correct her. She whistles, mock-bowing. "My apologies, I didn't realise I was standing before King Thibau himself! How go your kingly duties and all that?" You tilt your head side-to-side. "Not bad. Are we going soon?"<<else>>//Failure//. "Yes, please." You grin slyly. "You look like you need the help." Aunt Sonia's eyes narrow but she keeps the joke running, surprisingly. "Your chivalry's much appreciated, good ser." "Are we going soon?" You ask, breaking the joke yourself.<</if>> "Just as soon as your Uncle Callen gives you the thumbs-up." She nods. [[Next|Chap2Scene51]]

She shares a short chuckle with you. "Would you like to accompany me to a ball tonight, <<if $agab == "male">>milord<<else>>milady<</if>>?" //Charisma...// <<if $charisma >= 1>>//Success//. "It's <<if $agab == "male">>//my lord//, not milord.<<else>>//my lady//, not milady.<</if>>" You correct her. She whistles, mock-bowing. "My apologies, I didn't realise I was standing before King Thibau himself! How go your kingly duties and all that?" You shrug. "Pretty good. Are we going soon?"<<else>>//Failure//. "Yes, please." You grin slyly. "You look like you need the help." Aunt Sonia's eyes narrow but she keeps the joke running, surprisingly. "Your chivalry's much appreciated, good ser." "Are we going soon?" You ask, breaking the joke yourself.<</if>> "Just as soon as your Uncle Callen gives you the thumbs-up." She nods. [[Next|Chap2Scene51]]

<div id = "header-text">King Thibau II of Telfrin</div> Thibau II is named for his great-grandfather, Thibau I, who ruled Telfrin during the most prominent of the recent Border Wars--a bloody affair between Telfrin and Vengard that resulted in the establishment of the young nation of Mestiria. A relatively young king, he came into power in the year 1466 after his father, Alois IV, died from a plague that ravaged the royal family, and much of the capital. He ascended the throne of Telfrin at 17 and was quickly surrounded by a litany of advisors and courtiers, many of whom had been whispering in his father's ear when he ruled. Thibau enjoyed hunting and the company of his royal knights, preferring to duel and compete in tournaments rather than to properly govern--a task he primarily left to his council. His behaviour would see a marked shift on one dark, rainy day. One of his father's younger advisors, a slight, pale young woman with pale eyes named Caerra, had asked his permission to visit a village in the south of Telfrin that had been beset by renegade groups of Fallen rebels. Curious, the then 20 year-old king sought to accompany her, and so he did. What he saw there is said to have sombered the young man, and he returned to the capital, Centus, with a fire in his eyes and a harshness to his tone that had been noticeably absent before. The first manifestation of this change in his governance, however, was in his treatment of the Fallen populace of Telfrin. In contrast to his father who had been more lenient to Fallen than any Telfrini king before him, Thibau policed them harsher than ever before and diverted money from public funding to the reestablishment of an Inquisitor's Order within the Empyrean Church, tasked with rooting out and capturing out-of-line Fallen--both in his nation and in others, it is rumoured. Soon after, he found himself a wife and sent much of his ruling council away. The young courtier, Caerra, has been quietly at his side ever since in important meetings and at royal events, and he is said to write to her often at her home in Calis, found north of Centus on the coast. He has two children; the eldest being his heir and daughter, [[Soleile|Princess Soleile]], and his son, Marcelen.

As you move closer to Aunt Sonia, you get a better look at her outfit. She's dressed up, wearing a doublet of dark cotton that's so dark red it shows almost black in this light, trimmed with decorative flourishes of vibrant yellow around the collar and shoulders. She wears a shirt underneath, with a ruffled collar and sleeves that look soft and flowy. For someone who acts so tough and disciplined, she likes dressing up. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Her hair is styled more carefully than usual, you'd seen her applying some strange-smelling stuff to it earlier that supposedly helped to keep it in place.<<else>>Her hair, while still close-cropped, looks more evenly cut now. It helps sell the idea that it's an intentional look, almost.<</if>> In a rare event, she's wearing some makeup--though not much. A dusting of shadow around her eyes that makes the vibrant green of them stand out that much more,<<if $mentor == "Sonia">> a dash of powder here or there to hide a blemish or bruise<<else>>a smattering of powder to hide some of the bruises she came in with<</if>>, small touches like that. She's never been very fond of it, stating the whole process to be a waste of time at best, and an annoyance at worst. Thankfully, her role doesn't exactly require her to look //pretty//, but you admit that what she does apply makes her look striking<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>.<<else>>, even if her hair's currently in a poor state.<</if>> "Something the matter?" She questions as you shift past, stopping you to straighten your collar and fuss over other details of your outfit. <<if $patient <= 45>>You squirm in place as she sorts out your clothes. She holds you in place lightly, pressing a fist into your shoulder softly when done.<<elseif $patient >= 55>>You stand there and let her sort out your clothes. She nods down at you, pressing a fist into your shoulder softly when done.<</if>> <<if $sarcastic < 50>>"You're wearing makeup, I'm just not used to it." You explain.<<else>>"Just that weird stuff on your face." You tease.<</if>> "Oh." She says, puzzled. Then she smirks. "Why are you taking notice? You want some?" [["Can I?" You ask hopefully.|Chap2Scene52a]] [[Your face scrunches up. "Yuck! No."|Chap2Scene52b]] [[You shrug. "I dunno."|Chap2Scene52c]]

"Once you're older, kid." She responds. "You've still got your youth, so you don't need any of that crap on your face." "Alright..." You grumble. [[Next|Chap2Scene53]]

She smirks at that. "Yep, that's my opinion of the stuff, too." [[Next|Chap2Scene53]]

She tilts her head. "Perhaps once you're older, kid. For now, you've got your youth so you don't need the stuff." You shrug again. That makes sense. [[Next|Chap2Scene53]]

<<if $agab == "male">><<set $personFormal2 to "sir">><<else>><<set $personFormal2 to "my lady">><</if>> Aunt Sonia follows you down the stairs with a hand at the nape of your neck. Once you reach the bottom, a surprised "Oh!" rings out. "Ye're ready!" Uncle Callen exclaims, eyes darting between the two of you, all dressed up in your best. "Kid wouldn't let me make good on the threat //you// made for me." She jabs a finger at his chest as she walks past him to strap her boots on. "That's me $child." Uncle Callen ruffles your hair as you unsuccessfully duck by to wait near the door. "Don't let her win." He grins. "We're not taking anything?" Aunt Sonia questions, hopping around on one foot to stuff the other into a stiff, burgundy-dyed boot: a pair for formal occasions that she rarely wears. Uncle Callen shakes his head in the negative. "Abrian custom's to get to know yer neighbour before givin' them any sort o' gift. Avoids any awkwardness, an' all that." He reasons. The gift you got earlier today, the <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>set of pencils<<elseif $chap2Gift == "locket">>locket<<elseif $chap2Gift == "dagger">>toy dagger<<elseif $chap2Gift == "musicbox">>music box<</if>> springs to mind. Perhaps you could bring that? Though not as a gift to anyone, obviously. [["Can I still bring the gift I got today?" You ask hopefully. It might stop you from getting bored while you're there.|Chap2Scene53b][$chap2BringGift to "yes"]] [["Can I still bring the gift I got today?" You ask hopefully. Perhaps you can show it to Sam?|Chap2Scene53a][$chap2BringGift to "yesSam"]] [[You won't ask to bring the gift you received earlier.|Chap2Scene53c][$chap2BringGift to "no"]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia snorts amusedly, her laugh almost silent. "Can't keep away from your Uncle Callen's gift for one night?" <<if $volatile >= 55>>"Maybe he shouldn't have gotten such a good gift." You retort, and Uncle Callen chortles at your indignance.<<else>>"I like it!" You defend yourself. Uncle Callen chortles at your earnest plea.<</if>> "Glad it's made such an impression, $callenChild!" He laughs, retrieving the box from the counter where you left it when you all headed upstairs to get ready. "Go on," he says, "ye can take it for tonight, alright? Try an' be careful, though. Don't wanna break anythin'. I nearly broke meself before gettin' this." He winks. <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>"Oh!" He startles. "Ye'll need some paper, too. Go an' get some from the Channel port." He points at the contraption near the back of the room and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box.<<else>><</if>> <<if $callenClose > 55>>"Thank you!" You give him a quick side-hug before letting him swing the door open.<<elseif $callenClose < 54 and $callenClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let him open the door.<<elseif $callenClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at his side, waiting for him to swing the door open.<</if>><<elseif $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen nudges Aunt Sonia with his elbow. "Looks like yer gift was a success, lass." He says, even as you stand waiting for an answer. "Might've almost been worth the tragic loss of--" "Don't." She glares at him, then looks at you more affably. "Of course you can, $firstname. Just try not to break anything, yeah? Wasn't exactly cheap..." She mumbles, handing you the closed box. You'd left it on the counter when you went upstairs to get ready. You smile to yourself as you find the precious gift in your hands once more, safe inside its wooden enclosure. <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>As you turn to the door, Aunt Sonia coughs. You turn around to find her smirking. "What do you need to use pencils with, kid?" "Oh!" You exclaim. You'd somehow forgotten that pencils need paper. Aunt Sonia nods towards the Channel port in the back corner of the room, and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box.<<else>><</if>> <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Thanks!" You smile up at Aunt Sonia, and she claps your back in a quick side-hug before going to open the door.<<elseif $callenClose < 50 and $soniaClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let her open the door.<<elseif $soniaClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at her side, waiting for her to swing the door open.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene54]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia lifts a single eyebrow, a silent question in her eyes that she vocalizes moments later: "Why?" You shrug. "Why not?" You venture, but you're just met with a chuckle from her. "It's up to the one who got you the thing, I suppose." She says, turning to Uncle Callen who had been fidgeting with his gingerbread-coloured doublet. "Course ye can, $callenChild." He smiles. "Any particular reason?" "Probably wants to show it off to $their new friend, Cal." Aunt Sonia chuckles. [["Maybe I do." You counter. It's a good gift! (Chivalrous -)|Chap2Scene54a][$chivalrous to $chivalrous - 3]] [[A flush rises to your cheeks at being found out. "N-no?"|Chap2Scene54b]] <<if $samRelationship > 55>>[["It'll be fun!" You reason. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene54c][$volatile to $volatile - 3]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam is not high enough to choose this.<</if>><<elseif $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia lifts a single eyebrow, a silent question in her eyes that she vocalizes moments later: "Why?" You shrug. "Why not?" You venture, but you're just met with a chuckle from her. "What a compellin' point, $callenChild." Uncle Callen chuckles, joining the conversation after spending a moment fidgeting with his gingerbread-coloured doublet. You look back at Aunt Sonia and reiterate your question. "So? Can I?" "Sure, kid. Just be careful with it." She concedes. "Y'want to show it off to Sam, don't ye?" Uncle Callen chuckles, squinting at you amusedly. [["Maybe I do." You counter. It's a good gift! (Chivalrous -)|Chap2Scene54a][$chivalrous to $chivalrous - 3]] [[A flush rises to your cheeks at being found out. "N-no?"|Chap2Scene54b]] <<if $samRelationship > 55>>[["It'll be fun!" You reason. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene54c][$volatile to $volatile - 3]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam is not high enough to choose this.<</if>><</if>>

You can last one night without it. With nothing else to do but leave, you wait at Uncle Callen's side as he opens the door. [[Next|Chap2Scene54]]

Your strides slow to a walk, even as Sam breaks further ahead of you. When he reaches the sunny edge of the forest he hops up and down, spinning giddily in the air for victory. You can even hear him laughing from where he is, though that stops when he starts to look around in confusion, expecting your presence but finding only air. He must have expected you to keep going, and you give him a nonchalant shrug when he catches notice of you as far back as you are, trudging slowly towards the 'finish line'. When you finally reach him, he plants his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent might. "Looks like I win, I guess.." He says, not-very-enthusiastically. "I wasn't racing, though." You counter, and the boy looks at you, befuddled. "Why not?" You don't exactly have an //answer// for that, so you just shrug again. "I didn't want to?" "Huh." Sam blinks. "...Alright, some other time!" His smile returns, ever cheerful. [[🌞- There won't be a next time, you think as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "didntRace"]] [[🌞+ Your excitement grows at the prospect of another race as the two of you head to the entrance of the park itself.|Chap2Scene26][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $pushedSam to "no", $samRace to "didntRace"]]

A gust of cool, Summery evening air wafts against you as you step out and into the street, decidedly more empty than it is during the day. The odd group of chattering tourists or street merchants walk by, along with a whirring mechanical carriage or two. It's peaceful, almost //quaint//--Aunt Sonia's favourite time of day in Sola, before the sun has set over the world below, but is no longer visible from this part of the city. This is the time that she would most often leave home for the night, if Uncle Callen was there to take care of you. She'd head out of the door wearing a sombre look, sword at her hip, and you would not see her until the next morning, acting as if nothing was amiss. She squints a little when the wind hits her eyes, giving you a quizzical glance when she catches you looking at her. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Something wrong with my hair?" She asks glibly, and Uncle Callen smiles. "The $callenChild's surely surprised that ye're makin' an effort, Sonia. An' look at that, no sword!" He claps her back encouragingly, causing her to roll her eyes and shrug him off. "Let's get this thing done, then." She breathes.<<else>>"Something wrong with my hair?" She asks flatly, and Uncle Callen smiles. "So ye do know how to make a joke out of things, lass! Even more, you didn't bring yer sword!" He claps her back encouragingly, causing her to roll her eyes and shrug him off. "Let's get this thing done, then." She breathes.<</if>> [[Approach the door.|Chap2Scene55]]

You grab the box containing your<<if $chap2gift == "locket">>locket<<elseif $chap2gift == "musicbox">>music box<<elseif $chap2gift == "dagger">>dagger<<elseif $chap2gift == "pencils">>pencils<</if>>, shrugging nonchalantly once the box is secure in your arms. "Maybe I do." You say, affecting a disinterested tone. Uncle Callen barks out a laugh. "Ha! Well, that's //that// one answered, eh lass?" He looks at Aunt Sonia, stifling a few extra chuckles. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>She nods slowly in agreement. "If he says it's alright, go right ahead. I'm sure the kid'll enjoy having something to look at if he isn't properly moved in yet." <<if $samRelationship > 55>>Yes! You're sure Sam will love to see what Uncle Callen got you, and you'll get to show him something you're interested in. <<if $samRomance == 1>>You hope he likes it...<<else>><</if>><<else>>Well, alright. That's not //exactly// what your intention is, but you're sure he'll at least be interested in your new gift.<<if $samRomance == 1>> Deep down, do you ... hope he //does// like it, though?<<else>><</if>><</if>> <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>As you turn to the door, box of pencils in hand, Uncle Callen gasps. "Oh!" He startles. "Ye'll need some paper, too. Go an' get some from the Channel port." He points at the contraption near the back of the room and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box.<<else>><</if>> <<if $callenClose > 55>>"Thank you!" You give him a quick side-hug before letting him swing the door open.<<elseif $callenClose < 54 and $callenClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let him open the door.<<elseif $callenClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at his side, waiting for him to swing the door open.<</if>><<else>> She nods slowly in agreement. "Well, I say it's alright, so go right ahead. I'm sure the kid'll enjoy having something to look at if he isn't properly moved in yet." <<if $samRelationship > 55>>Yes! You're sure Sam will love to see what Aunt Sonia got you, and you'll get to show him something you're interested in. <<if $samRomance == 1>>You hope he likes it...<<else>><</if>><<else>>Well, alright. That's not //exactly// what your intention is, but you're sure he'll at least be interested in your new gift.<<if $samRomance == 1>> Deep down, do you ... hope he //does// like it, though?<<else>><</if>><</if>> <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>As you turn to the door, Aunt Sonia coughs. You turn around to find her smirking. "What do you need to use pencils with, kid?" "Oh!" You exclaim. You'd somehow forgotten that pencils need paper. Aunt Sonia nods towards the Channel port in the back corner of the room, and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box.<<else>><</if>> <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Thanks!" You smile up at Aunt Sonia, and she claps your back in a quick side-hug before going to open the door.<<elseif $soniaClose < 50 and $soniaClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let her open the door.<<elseif $soniaClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at her side, waiting for her to swing the door open.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene54]]

You scramble to grab the box containing your <<if $chap2gift == "locket">>locket<<elseif $chap2gift == "musicbox">>music box<<elseif $chap2gift == "dagger">>dagger<<elseif $chap2gift == "pencils">>pencils<</if>>, even as your shoulders lift in embarrassment. "N-no?" Was it that obvious? Uncle Callen barks out a laugh at your antics. "Ye're an open book, $callenChild." "Don't get into politics..." Aunt Sonia murmurs, biting her top lip to stifle a chuckle. <<if $volatile > 55>>"Stop!" You whine, scowling at the two of them.<<else>>You sigh, embarrassed.<</if>> "Alright, kid." She raises her hands placatingly. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Must be a nice boy if you're already rearing to show your things to him." <<if $samRelationship > 55>>"He is!" You nod eagerly.<<if $samRomance == 1>> "The nicest." You say, smiling sheepishly at your brazen declaration. It may well be true.<<else>><</if>><<else>>You shrug unsurely.<<if $samRomance == 1>> Your thoughts on him are still a messy jumble, undercut with something almost ... //fond//? You can't make any sense of it.<<else>><</if>><</if>> "Well, go on, kid." Aunt Sonia nods at the door, signalling you to get ready for heading out. <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>As you turn to the door, box of pencils in hand, Uncle Callen gasps. "Oh!" He startles. "Ye'll need some paper, too. Go an' get some from the Channel port." He points at the contraption near the back of the room and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box.<<else>><</if>> <<if $callenClose > 55>>"Thank you!" You give him a quick side-hug before letting him swing the door open.<<elseif $callenClose < 54 and $callenClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let him open the door.<<elseif $callenClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at his side, waiting for him to swing the door open.<</if>><<else>>"Must be a nice boy if you're already rearing to show your things to him." <<if $samRelationship > 55>>"Way I hear it," Uncle Callen joins in, "they're already fast friends." You nod eagerly. "We are!" You agree<<if $samRomance == 1>>, smiling sheepishly at just how quickly you jumped in to talk Sam up.<<else>>.<</if>><<else>>You shrug unsurely. <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your thoughts on him are still a messy jumble, undercut with something almost ... //fond//? You can't make any sense of it.<<else>><</if>> "Well, go on, kid." Aunt Sonia nods at the door, signalling you to get ready for heading out. <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>As you turn to the door, Aunt Sonia coughs. You turn around to find her smirking. "What do you need to use pencils with, kid?" "Oh!" You exclaim. You'd somehow forgotten that pencils need paper. Aunt Sonia nods towards the Channel port in the back corner of the room, and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box.<<else>><</if>> <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Thanks!" You smile up at Aunt Sonia, and she claps your back in a quick side-hug before going to open the door.<<elseif $soniaClose < 50 and $soniaClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let her open the door.<<elseif $soniaClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at her side, waiting for her to swing the door open.<</if>><</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene54]]

You skip over to the counter to grab your <<if $chap2gift == "locket">>locket<<elseif $chap2gift == "musicbox">>music box<<elseif $chap2gift == "dagger">>dagger<<elseif $chap2gift == "pencils">>pencils<</if>>, smiling cheerily. "It'll be fun!" You say, hoping to get your point across--there's no bragging intent here, you just want Sam to see what you got. <<if $samRomance == 1>>You //really// hope he likes it...<<else>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"I'm glad the lad's made such an impression on ye." Uncle Callen pats your shoulder happily. "It'll be good to have a friend so close by." <<if $samRomance == 1>>"I think we already like eachother." You smile, even as something alien bubbles in your gut. You sigh softly, and he chuckles with a gleam in his eye.<<else>>"I think we already like eachother." You smile, looking forward to seeing him again in just a few moments.<</if>> "I'm sure, $callenChild." He says, ruffling your hair. "C'mon, let's get leavin'." <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>As you turn to the door, Aunt Sonia coughs. You turn around to find her smirking. "What do you need to use pencils with, kid?" "Oh!" You exclaim. You'd somehow forgotten that pencils need paper. Aunt Sonia nods towards the Channel port in the back corner of the room, and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box. <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Thanks!" You smile up at Aunt Sonia, and she claps your back in a quick side-hug before going to open the door.<<elseif $soniaClose < 50 and $soniaClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let her open the door.<<elseif $soniaClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at her side, waiting for her to swing the door open.<</if>><<else>><</if>><<else>>"Seems you get along with children better than I do, kid." Aunt Sonia smirks. Uncle Callen chuckles. "I think that's more a 'you' problem than anythin', lass." "They're boring before they know how to fight." She shrugs. "At least now you're gonna have a friend just a few steps away." She adds, nodding down at you. It's nice that she's happy for you, even if she might not be so fond of Sam. <<if $samRomance == 1>>"I think we already like eachother." You smile, even as something alien bubbles in your gut. You sigh softly, and she looks a little surprised before smirking softly.<<else>>"I think we already like eachother." You smile, looking forward to seeing him again in just a few moments.<</if>> "Good to hear." She says, patting your back softly as you turn to leave. <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>As you turn to the door, box of pencils in hand, Uncle Callen gasps. "Oh!" He startles. "Ye'll need some paper, too. Go an' get some from the Channel port." He points at the contraption near the back of the room and you skip over to retrieve a few pieces of the stuff, folding them so that they can fit inside your pencil box. <<if $callenClose > 55>>"Thank you!" You give him a quick side-hug before letting him swing the door open.<<elseif $callenClose < 54 and $callenClose > 40>>"Thank you." You say, standing aside to let him open the door.<<elseif $callenClose < 40>>"Thanks." You don't say any words of thanks and instead stand at his side, waiting for him to swing the door open.<</if>><<else>><</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene54]]

<div id = "header-text">Organizations</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[The Bladeweavers]]</div> <div id = "subheader-text">[[The Royal Inquisitorium of Telfrin]]</div>

<div id = "header-text">The Bladeweavers' Order</div> The Empyrean Order of Phanoli Bladeweavers, known more commonly as the Bladeweavers' Order, or just the Bladeweavers, is a continent-wide organization of religiously-motivated weaponmasters, specialising in the arts of bladework and diplomacy. There is not a village in all of Phanol that doesn't know about the Order's deeds, nor is there a patch of soil where a Bladeweaver hasn't trodden, such is the unfathomably wide reach and history the Order possesses. Though, despite stringent record-keeping, the Order's history and inception are shrouded in obscurity. Nobody truly knows exactly //when// it was formed, nor do they know its founding members. Indeed, it seems as if the Order just came to be one day, and since then nobody has questioned how or why. Why would they, given the boon the Order has been? The Bladeweavers dedicate themselves to hunting demons, tirelessly slaughtering the unholy scourge with their Empyrean steel blades, forged in the cores of the Risen Cities, which each branch of the Order calls their respective home. A Bladeweaver swears no allegiance to one nation, and is forbidden from fighting in international wars. They may be recruited to put down rebellion or keep the peace, though a hefty sum is required, especially for larger operations. A Bladeweaver is also forbidden from fighting another Bladeweaver--except in the case of a friendly duel or exhibitionary contest, of course--and the Order may refuse requests that could put two different branches in conflict with one another. Each branch of the Order is governed by a Grand Council, made of six Grandmasters annointed by the heads of the Empyrean Church. Beneath these six are Masters, who take any number of positions from a Master of The Forge, to a Scholastic Master. All Masters have seen combat, however. The position is warranted by prowess and great deeds as much as it is social standing, though many would say the latter is more important than the former. Masters are often the head of larger operations with dozens of Knights and Adepts. Bladeweaver Knights are the most common unit of Bladeweaver, often leading smaller missions or acting in the place of Master when necessary. An Adept, the graduatory rank of every Bladeweaver who leaves the Academies, will often be knighted after a half-dozen successful missions, at the recommendation of their mentor. In some cases, this privilege is withheld, such as if the Adept is disobedient or thought unfit for the higher responsibilities of Knighthood. In the Age of Hunts, at the Order's peak, there were believed to be over fifty-thousand active Bladeweavers, several armies' worth of Empyrean-wielding demon hunters. <<if $currentChapter == 2>>This number has dwindled since the scourge was thought eliminated, though the small-but-persistent return of demonkind has spurred an uplift in recruitment. As of 1490, there are perhaps ten-thousand active Bladeweavers, mostly concentrated in Abria and Telfrin, though a small number also operate in the far eastern continent, where worse horrors than anything seen in Phanol are said to burst from the sand.<<else>><</if>>

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I suppose I should be the one knocking, since he knows me..." Aunt Sonia murmurs, shuffling past the two of you to get to the door. You notice a slight hesitance in her step, and she squints a bit when lifting her left leg. Your brow furrows in confusion. She smooths her hair back one time--is she //nervous//?--and delivers two sturdy knocks to the pristine-looking door.<<else>>As Aunt Sonia approaches the door to knock, the stops in her tracks all of a sudden. "Hang on, you should be the one knocking, Cal. He knows you." She reasons, stepping out of the way for him. He gives her a mirthful look. "Yer capacity for bein' antisocial never fails to impress, lass." She frowns. "I'm being //prudent//." She turns away, scratching her short hair. "This time..." Uncle Callen just shakes his head with a smile, stepping up to the pristine-looking door and delivering his usual loud set of knocks. Whoever's inside will surely be scrambling to get to the door now.<</if>> [[After a few moments, you hear the lock in the door start to turn.|Chap2Scene56]]

The door swings open with a soft creak as a jingling little bell rings out at the same time from inside. For a moment you forget that this will serve as Sam's home //and// a merchant's shop. You wonder how they'll live--will all of their stuff be upstairs? That would explain all the people coming in and out of the building just a few weeks ago; they were likely working on renovating and modifying the interior to suit its new purpose. A soft glow spills out into the darkening street from within, partially blocked by the sturdy-looking figure of a man garbed in green, accented with tasteful gold embellishments. He looks sturdily built and he might even stand shorter than Aunt Sonia--though you can't exactly tell from here, high-up as he is. His hair, brown and slightly greying, sits loose on his head. It's not styled in any particular way, though that doesn't matter much since it's quite short. His face, characteristically round just like Sam's--though that seems to be where their resemblance ends--lights up in a smile, and he dutifully scratches at his short but thick dusting of stubble before greeting your trio. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He begins with who he knows, which of course means Aunt Sonia. "Twelve blessings, Master Sonia." You note his usage of that strange greeting, which these days is really only used by priests of the Empyrean Churches. He must be quite religious. If the greeting bothered or surprised her, she doesn't show it as she nods smoothly. "And the same to you, goodman Willem, though I told you earlier today just to call me Sonia." She pauses to look at the windows and exterior of the building, where an empty sign hangs from a post. "You've had a fun time setting up tonight, I take it?" The man, Willem, chuckles softly while nodding fervently. "Of course, Sonia. Hard work is good work, as they say in the homeland. I expect we'll be ready to open in the next week," his voice drops to a whisper, "if the boy is quiet." He winks, and Uncle Callen chuckles amusedly, drawing his attention. "My apologies, you must be Callen Edros. I am Willem Alban, 'tis a pleasure to meet you after hearing much of your exploits, Master Weaver. You are quite well-known in the city below." He steps out of his house and descends the small set of stairs leading up to shake hands with Uncle Callen, who sheepishly smiles at the other man's acknowledgement of his relative fame--you know he posesses relative fame, but does not like to call attention to it. The two men clasp forearms in a sturdy, quick handshake. You notice Willem pats Uncle Callen's hand with his free one for a moment, an odd gesture you haven't seen before. "Well met, friend," Uncle Callen begins, "it'll be my turn to apologise, for my current state." He says, pointing to his bandaged head once he breaks the handshake. "Unfortunate run-in with a stony friend down below, y'see." He smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. Willem's eyes widen in concern. He may not look much like Sam, but he obviously isn't very good at hiding his feelings, just like his son. "You are alright?" He asks quickly. "You needn't have come if it's painful--" Uncle Callen shakes his head and makes a waving motion with his hands, completely dispelling the other man's worries. "Perish the thought, friend. I wouldn'ta missed this if I'd been down an arm or a leg." He laughs. "A bump on the noggin won't stop me from greetin' my new neighbours." Willem smiles at him. "Your enthusiasm is not an unwelcome gift, goodman Callen." Then, he turns his gaze to land on you, and he stoops forwards slightly. "You must be young $firstname. A pleasure, truly." He smiles, offering an outstretched hand. [[Shake it readily, chirping out a greeting. "Hello!" You smile. (Cold --)|Chap2Scene56Sona][$cold to $cold - 5]] [[Scowl at the proferred hand, unwilling to shake it. You don't want to be here and you certainly don't want to shake this man's hand. (Cold +, Volatile +)|Chap2Scene56Sonb][$cold to $cold + 3, $volatile to $volatile + 3]] [[Bashfully back away, mumbling an apology. (Cold +, Cautious +)|Chap2Scene56Sonc][$cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 3]] [[Slap his hand cheekily, but greet him all the same. (Sarcastic +, Cold -)|Chap2Scene56Sond][$cold to $cold - 3, $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[You hesitate, but ultimately shake his hand gingerly. "Hello..." (Cold -, Cautious +)|Chap2Scene56Sone][$cold to $cold - 3, $cautious to $cautious + 4]]<<else>>He begins with who he knows, which of course means Uncle Callen. "Twelve blessings to you, Callen." He says, with a mellow smile and a slight bow of his head. You note his usage of that strange greeting, which these days is really only used by priests of the Empyrean Churches. He must be quite religious. Uncle Callen looks somewhat perturbed by the saying, but he quickly moves past the moment with a greeting of his own and a wide smile. "Good evenin', goodman Willem." He says, waving the other man down the stairs so he can greet him properly. Willem does so, sharing a sturdy handshake with him, before turning his gaze to you and Aunt Sonia, who seems to freeze in place. "You must be--" Willem begins, but is quickly interrupted. "Sonia. Wierszy--that's me, yeah." She stumbles through her introduction, gritting her teeth in frustration. "Sorry, I'm not so good at introductions, not when I've been awake for a day." She chuckles grimly, messing with her short hair. Willem smiles sympathetically. "It is no issue. I imagine you will have just returned recently, then?" "Only a few hours ago." She nods. "I appreciate the effort made to attend this evening, truly. I could not imagine myself doing what you do without rest. If you need, you needn't--" She stops him with a shake of her head. "Concern's appreciated, Willem, but this's important to us, so I'm here." She seems to perk up, sticking out her own hand for him to shake. "It's a pleasure, honest. I'm looking forward to getting to know you. Just don't say anything about my hair, please?" She says tiredly. "I've had enough from that one, tonight." She nods at Uncle Callen, who scuffs his boot on the floor innocently. Willem's smile widens as he clasps her hand in his, patting it with his free hand before letting go. "Am I to assume that is not its usual state?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. She nods somberly. "A series of stupid decisions led to a ... //revamp//, of sorts." "It is not such a strange sight to me, goodlady Sonia. The women that manned the ship we sailed on from Groyton would cut their hair in a similar way. I imagine it keeps one cool, though that might be the opposite of what you want up here." He chuckles. Aunt Sonia snorts. "Comparing me to sailors, now? Is it too late to swap him for another one?" She whisper-speaks to Callen, and the three of them share a laugh. Then, finally, Willem turns to you, and he stoops forwards slightly. "You must be young $firstname. A pleasure, truly." He smiles, offering an outstretched hand. [[Shake it readily, chirping out a greeting. "Hello!" You smile. (Cold --)|Chap2Scene56Cala][$cold to $cold - 5]] [[Scowl at the proferred hand, unwilling to shake it. You don't want to be here and you certainly don't want to shake this man's hand. (Cold +, Volatile +)|Chap2Scene56Calb][$cold to $cold + 3, $volatile to $volatile + 3]] [[Bashfully back away, mumbling an apology. (Cold +, Cautious +)|Chap2Scene56Calc][$cold to $cold + 3, $cautious to $cautious + 3]] [[Slap his hand cheekily, but greet him all the same. (Sarcastic +, Cold -)|Chap2Scene56Cald][$cold to $cold - 3, $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 3]] [[You hesitate, but ultimately shake his hand gingerly. "Hello..." (Cold -, Cautious +)|Chap2Scene56Cale][$cold to $cold - 3, $cautious to $cautious + 4]]<</if>>

<div id = "header-text">The Royal Inquisitorium of Telfrin</div> Before the Age of Hunts and the eradication of demonkind in Phanol, the Inquisitorium of Telfrin worked side-by-side with the burgeoning Bladeweavers' Order, which had begun to see a massive influx in recruitment and activity. Their collaboration would eventually lead to the supposed elimination of demonic activity, continent-wide. While the Bladeweavers were suited to hunting and eradicating demonic threats of any note, the Inquisitorium was specially suited to finding more elusive--and intelligent--demonic targets, particularly within Telfrin's borders. In select cases, they were allowed to operate multinationally as the Bladeweavers did, but constant border wars between Telfrin, Abria and Vengard often served as obstacles in older times. The Inquisitorium's structure rewarded ambition, with many of its founding members being criminals or nobles who were assigned the task as punishment by the king of the time. It was a ruthless institution, and one was likely to either fall by the wayside immediately or claw their way through the ranks, hoping for some kind of reward at the end of their toil. Near the end of the Age of Hunts, the Inquisitorium was disbanded by the then-queen when it was discovered a demon masquerading as a man had infiltrated its ranks, sowing discord from within. This treachery was discovered by a young scion of the ducal house del Varro, who would soon go on to join the Bladeweavers and become a storied member of their Order. It would be nearly two centuries before the Inquisitorium was brought back with a new purpose: the control and monitoring of those known as Fallen within Telfrin, demi-humans with dangerous magical abilities and unique, animalistic features.

While his hand engulfs your own completely, his grip is feather-light and he shakes it gently, patting your hand with his free one a couple of times before letting go, just like he did with Uncle Callen. "Well met, young <<if $agab == "male">>man<<else>>lady<</if>>. I'm unused to a polite child." He grumbles non-seriously to Uncle Callen, who snickers. <<if $cautious > 55>>"Why did you pat my hand?" You ask self-concsiously. Should you have even asked that? What if it's an Abrian thing, and it's disrespectful to ask about-- Willem apparently sees the conflict brewing in your expression and smiles kindly. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch with slight confusion at your response. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Oh--well, that makes sense..." You mumble, embarrassed for having gotten worked up about it in the first place.<<else>>"Why did you pat my hand?" You ask, puzzled. Perhaps it's an Abrian thing, a cultural difference you simply haven't seen in Sola before. Willem smiles kindly, readily answering your question. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch the exchange curiously. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Ohh..." You nod, satisfied. "That makes sense!"<</if>> He smiles widely, skin crinkling around his brown eyes. "I am glad to hear. Shall we go inside, now?" He turns back to the door, leading the three of you into his home with an air of finality. "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." He chuckles to Uncle Callen as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Son]]

Willem seems more amused than offended at your rejection. "No worries, then. Come, let us head inside!" He turns without another word, leading the three of you into his home. Aunt Sonia shoots you a disapproving look from over her shoulder as you follow behind her, but you jut your bottom lip out and look away sulkily. "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." Willem chuckles to Uncle Callen as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Son]]

At your display of uncertainty, Willem smiles reassuringly, standing up while smoothing the front of his tunic out. "My apologies for unsettling you, $firstname. Come, let us head inside!" He turns without another word, leading the three of you into his home. Aunt Sonia squeezes your shoulder reassuringly as you follow behind her <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>and you smile wanly up at her.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 54 and $soniaClose >= 45>>and you nod to show you're alright.<<elseif $soniaClose <=44>>and you shake her off, frowning.<</if>> "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." Willem chuckles to Uncle Callen as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Son]]

You shuffle away slightly, shrinking into yourself, but Uncle Callen catches your eye and gives an encouraging nod. With a deep breath, you put your hand in his and shake softly, muttering out a soft greeting. "Hello..." His mouth, once a flat line of concern, curls into a soft smile. "Well met, young <<if $agab == "male">>man<<else>>lady<</if>>. I'm unused to a polite child." He grumbles non-seriously to Uncle Callen, who snickers. <<if $cautious > 55>>"Why ... why did you pat my hand?" You ask self-concsiously. Should you have even asked that? What if it's an Abrian thing, and it's disrespectful to ask about-- Willem apparently sees the conflict brewing in your expression and, once again, smiles kindly. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch with slight confusion at your response. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Oh--well, that makes sense..." You mumble, embarrassed for having gotten worked up about it in the first place.<<else>>"Why did you pat my hand?" You ask, puzzled. Perhaps it's an Abrian thing, a cultural difference you simply haven't seen in Sola before. Willem smiles kindly, readily answering your question. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch the exchange curiously. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Ohh..." You nod, satisfied. "That makes sense!"<</if>> He smiles widely, skin crinkling around his brown eyes. "I am glad to hear it. Shall we go inside, now?" He turns back to the door, leading the three of you into his home with an air of finality. "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." He chuckles to Uncle Callen as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Son]]

He smirks when you opt to smack his hand with yours, and you're glad he doesn't tell you off, or scoff at you like some more boring adults might. "Well met, $firstname. It seems another young jester will inhabit my home tonight." He sighs non-seriously, sharing a chuckle with Uncle Callen. "That'll partly be my influence, apologies." He grins, nudging Aunt Sonia. "This one doesn't have a funny bone in 'er body." She glares at him. "Could you perhaps not plant ideas about me in our new neighbour's head, //Edros//?" Willem smiles soothingly. "Rest assured, I will form my own opinion of you." He chuckles softly. "Though this doesn't exactly disprove his point." He grins at her, even as her shoulders sag in defeat. "I jest, of course. Come, let us head inside!" He turns without another word, leading the three of you into his home. "I live with a big fool //and// a little one..." You hear Aunt Sonia mutter as you follow her inside. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Son]]

<<if $samKnowsBW == "yes">>//Another Bladeweaver,// you think to yourself as you step in to the house.<<else>>//If only he knew,// you think to yourself as you step in to the house.<</if>> The //next// thing you think is just how hot this place is! You blink in surprise when an aura of heat washes over you, and at your side Aunt Sonia mutters a shocked "Gods..." while Uncle Callen coughs uncomfortably. He's not a fan of the heat, but Aunt Sonia comes as close to hating it as anyone you've seen has. "Are you alright?" Willem asks perplexedly, looking between the three of you in confusion. "All good," Aunt Sonia manages to spit out even as a sheen of sweat already begins to form on her brow, "it's just ... //warm//." She grimaces. Willem's eyebrows raise and he looks to Uncle Callen, who agrees with a simple, sheepish nod. "Ah ... I hadn't realised, apologies. We had a few warming stones set up around the place, you see. It is far colder up here than central Abria, of course." He justifies with an embarrassed chuckle. "//Durat!//" He calls out, and you assume it's a spellword of some kind. Your suspicions are confirmed when the heat in the room slowly begins to ebb away, turning the unbearably muggy heat into something more manageable. Willem bows his head in apology again. "It will improve soon, I'm sure. The cold is quite ... persistent, hm?" "Ye tend to get used to it after a while," Uncle Callen shrugs, "though I'd recommend a proper hearth to save on havin' to buy more warming stones. It's a cutthroat market for Risen trinkets up here." He sighs. "I shall look into it, goodman Callen." Willem assures with a thankful grin. "Though, I certainly wouldn't say no to finding some worthy contacts in that market up here, either." [[Next|Chap2Scene58]]

<div id="subheader-text">Patient/Impatient</div> How easily you become annoyed by delays or obstacles in life. Being impatient may lead to you being more annoyed or anxious when stressed, and affect your behaviour in such situations. <div id="subheader-text">Volatile/Calm</div> Your general disposition and temper. Being volatile doesn't necessarily mean you are rude or aggressive, merely that you express your emotions more openly--whatever they may be. <div id="subheader-text">Optimistic/Pessimistic</div> Your outlook on life, what you believe about others. You might believe there's light in everyone, or perhaps you have a darker view of the world? <div id="subheader-text">Chivalrous/Dishonourable</div> Your willingness to behave or misbehave according to commonly accepted chivalric traits. Charity, kindness to the weak and loyalty are some virtues that you might embody or shirk. <div id="subheader-text">Honest/Dishonest</div> Being free or full of deceit. Being a generally honest person will make you seem more inherently trustworthy, though being dishonest could help you in situations where you'll need to convincingly lie. Reading a person well, and whether or not they know you well, is of importance. <div id="subheader-text">Stubborn/Yielding</div> Your willingness to budge on issues that you deem important. Being yielding would make you more easily convinced of someone's plan, for example. This also increases the chances of being informed of plans and the like. <div id="subheader-text">Cautious/Confident</div> Your willingness to take risks regardless of possible consequence, as well as how you generally measure your own ability. Do you act without thinking, or are you more measured in what you do, and do you have quite a high opinion of your own talents? <div id="subheader-text">Cold/Warm</div> Your overall introversion/extroversion. This personality trait will be considered in tandem with Volatile/Calm often to determine whether your coldness is more of a detached, frosty air or an aggressive dismissal of others, for example. <div id="subheader-text">Sarcastic/Serious</div> Whether or not you often respond with humour or act derisive/flippant towards others. Corresponds to how mischievous or well-behaved you tend to be, too. ''Personality traits will often be considered in combination with one another, leading to various outcomes and choices in dialogue. If you are extremely one-sided in one trait, some options may become unavailable to you, but others may open up. Of course, your personality does not necessarily determine your success or failure, rather this depends on the choices you make.''

While his hand engulfs your own completely, his grip is feather-light and he shakes it gently, patting your hand with his free one a couple of times before letting go, just like he did with Uncle Callen. "Well met, young <<if $agab == "male">>man<<else>>lady<</if>>. I'm unused to a polite child." He grumbles non-seriously to Uncle Callen, who snickers. <<if $cautious > 55>>"Why did you pat my hand?" You ask self-concsiously. Should you have even asked that? What if it's an Abrian thing, and it's disrespectful to ask about-- Willem apparently sees the conflict brewing in your expression and smiles kindly. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch with slight confusion at your response. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Oh--well, that makes sense..." You mumble, embarrassed for having gotten worked up about it in the first place.<<else>>"Why did you pat my hand?" You ask, puzzled. Perhaps it's an Abrian thing, a cultural difference you simply haven't seen in Sola before. Willem smiles kindly, readily answering your question. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch the exchange curiously. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Ohh..." You nod, satisfied. "That makes sense!"<</if>> He smiles widely, skin crinkling around his brown eyes. "I am glad to hear. Shall we go inside, now?" He turns back to the door, leading the three of you into his home with an air of finality. "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." He chuckles to Aunt Sonia as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Cal]]

Willem seems more amused than offended at your rejection. "No worries, then. Come, let us head inside!" He turns without another word, leading the three of you into his home. Uncle Callen sighs, apparently unhappy with your rudeness, but you jut your bottom lip out and look away from him sulkily. "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." Willem chuckles to Aunt Sonia as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Cal]]

At your display of uncertainty, Willem smiles reassuringly, standing up while smoothing the front of his tunic out. "My apologies for unsettling you, $firstname. Come, let us head inside!" He turns without another word, leading the three of you into his home. Uncle Callen squeezes your hand reassuringly as you follow behind him <<if $callenClose >= 55>>and you return the squeeze, smiling wanly up at him.<<elseif $callenClose <= 54 and $callenClose >= 45>>and you keep a loose grip on his hand, nodding to show you're alright.<<elseif $callenClose <=44>>and you wrench your hand free with a grunt.<</if>> "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." Willem chuckles to Aunt Sonia as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Cal]]

You shuffle away slightly, shrinking into yourself, but Uncle Callen catches your eye and gives an encouraging nod. With a deep breath, you put your hand in his and shake softly, muttering out a soft greeting. "Hello..." His mouth, once a flat line of concern, curls into a soft smile. "Well met, young <<if $agab == "male">>man<<else>>lady<</if>>. I'm unused to a polite child." He grumbles non-seriously to Uncle Callen, who snickers. <<if $cautious > 55>>"Why ... why did you pat my hand?" You ask self-concsiously. Should you have even asked that? What if it's an Abrian thing, and it's disrespectful to ask about-- Willem apparently sees the conflict brewing in your expression and, once again, smiles kindly. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch with slight confusion at your response. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Oh--well, that makes sense..." You mumble, embarrassed for having gotten worked up about it in the first place.<<else>>"Why did you pat my hand?" You ask, puzzled. Perhaps it's an Abrian thing, a cultural difference you simply haven't seen in Sola before. Willem smiles kindly, readily answering your question. "I'm sorry if the gesture confused you. It's simply a habit I have grown into over the years." He looks towards Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each watch the exchange curiously. "In my homeland, it is a gesture of comfort; I shake the hands of friends and clients this way to put them at ease, you see?" "Ohh..." You nod, satisfied. "That makes sense!"<</if>> He smiles widely, skin crinkling around his brown eyes. "I am glad to hear it. Shall we go inside, now?" He turns back to the door, leading the three of you into his home with an air of finality. "My son is excited to meet another Bladeweaver." He chuckles to Aunt Sonia as he ascends the stairs. [[Next|Chap2Scene57Cal]]

<<if $samKnowsBW == "yes">>//Another Bladeweaver,// you think to yourself as you step in to the house.<<else>>//If only he knew,// you think to yourself as you step in to the house.<</if>> The //next// thing you think is just how hot this place is! You blink in surprise when an aura of heat washes over you, and at your side Uncle Callen mutters a shocked "Uff..." while Aunt Sonia shifts uncomfortably. She's even less of a fan of heat than he is. "Are you alright?" Willem asks perplexedly, looking between the three of you in confusion. "All good," Aunt Sonia manages to spit out even as a sheen of sweat already begins to form on her brow, "it's just ... //warm//." She grimaces. Willem's eyebrows raise and he looks to Uncle Callen, who agrees with a simple, sheepish nod. "Ah ... I hadn't realised, apologies. We had a few warming stones set up around the place, you see. It is far colder up here than central Abria, of course." He justifies with an embarrassed chuckle. "//Durat!//" He calls out, and you assume it's a spellword of some kind. Your suspicions are confirmed when the heat in the room slowly begins to ebb away, turning the unbearably muggy heat into something more manageable. Willem bows his head in apology again. "It will improve soon, I'm sure. The cold is quite ... persistent, hm?" "Ye tend to get used to it after a while," Uncle Callen shrugs, "though I'd recommend a proper hearth to save on havin' to buy more warming stones. It's a cutthroat market for Risen trinkets up here." He sighs. "I shall look into it, goodman Callen." Willem assures with a thankful grin. "Though, I certainly wouldn't say no to finding some worthy contacts in that market up here, either." [[Next|Chap2Scene58]]

<<set $currentChapter = -0.5>><img src="https://i.imgur.com/i8Lxi0z.png"> //10th of Gelor, AR 1506 (Early Winter) - Twenty-four Years Old// //Riva's Rest Inn, Montsfoot, Republic of Vengard// You wake with your own hand clutched around your throat, gasping for air. It takes a moment to get your bearings before you remember where you are, letting your head drop back onto the bed and prising your fingers from your neck. You stare at the ceiling for a moment, noticing something: Crudely etched into the wooden surface is an amateur depiction of a heart, pierced from the sides and top by three swords. You blink, trying to recall some meaning from it, but find none. ...It must be a regional symbol, and you are not from here. You sit up, the muscles in your core immediately aching in protest of your rising, and for a fleeting moment it's all too easy to imagine flopping back down onto the bed to settle into a deep, uninterrupted slumber. It's an optimistic, fantastical notion--one that leaves your mind as soon as it entered. Once you're properly awake, you strain to buckle up your leather cuirass, grunting as the motion causes you to stretch laterally. It's about the only piece of armour you have that's actually worth wearing, though, so keeping it on is a necessary torment. If only your damned back didn't hurt so much... Standing on shaky legs, you amble over to room's one window. Wavering torch-glow from the outside street manages to spill in through gaps in the shutters. That light and noise had kept you up for longer than you'd anticipated, as much as you tried in vain to sleep through the day when the inn was quieter. It was less than successful, as attested by the dull ache in your limbs and the thrumming pain behind your eyes, a headache that started last week and seems to have stuck with you since. [[You grumble to nobody in particular. You've found it helps to vocalize your discontent, even if those protests fall upon absent ears.|NewPrologueScene0.5a]] [[You stay silent as you finish readying up. Mithering like a child helps nobody.|NewPrologueScene0.5b]] [[You take a moment to gather yourself. Faltering is failure out here, and you won't fail again.|NewPrologueScene0.5c]]

The Vengardian word for regret. A place where the already-dead come to fade away proper. It is tradition here that, when winter comes, the old men will leave and fight and die in some war--it matters not whom they fight for, only that they do so. It means one less mouth to feed when the cold comes. Those that survive return to places like Angar. //You made a promise never to end things like that. To walk on, until your feet are bloody stumps. Will you walk still, to this place of living inhumation? Have you the strength to make it back out?// You shake the thoughts away: they are not yours, and they are not useful. Stepping out of the small room and into the inn's top floor, you try to block out the rowdy tumult surrounding you. The door rattles noisily in its frame as you close it, earning you a few glances from other patrons who wander the inn's top floor. A few torches crackle on the walls, reminding you of... No. Don't even think about that here. That's the path untrodden. [[You pass through the crowds, unbothered and silent.|NewPrologueScene2a]] [[You shift uncomfortably past when you can, keenly aware of your proximity and vulnerability.|NewPrologueScene2b]]

Her grin turns sour in a split-second, and she fixes you with a steely glare. "//You// fuck off." She says, and you bristle even further. "Happily. I hope the next person you //spy on// has the time to teach you a proper lesson." You spit and turn away from her, striding purposefully towards the inn's door which still swings slightly from its recent expulsion. You think you hear her murmur something about "Fuckin' Weavers...", but you don't particularly care to speak to her any longer. The night's cool air hits you like a chilly wall, even as you brace yourself for the coming cold. A few other people, drunks and nighttime wanderers alike, mill around aimlessly. The cold--or the drink, more likely--must be doing something to their senses of direction. You turn to head towards the stables. It's hardly the best time go out riding, but you're hoping the cold will afford you some solitude on the road. Though it's not as if Vengard is ever particularly //warm// either, being situated at the very southern tip of Phanol's dagger-like landmass, so there's not much chance at a warm ride regardless. Your steed, a hardy mule you bought in Carrefo, has served you well enough thus far, shrugging off Telfrin's rocky plains and Mestiria's humid heat like a mere triviality. This cold has proven to be an entirely different beast. She'll have plenty of carrots once you arrive in Angar, of course. As you trudge along the frosty dirt, your chain of thought is interrupted by the sound of a struggle--panicked cries and frustrated grunts--in a nearby backalley. A robbery, or something worse. [[Find out what's going on.|PrologueScene4a]] [[It's hardly your problem, and you'd rather get to Angar sooner than later. Keep going.|PrologueScene4b]]

"Ha!" She cackles, even as she pushes a set of tankards towards an overeager pair of guests. "I like you, make sure ya come on back sometime." She chuckles to herself. "Funny ones always leave too soon..." You smirk and turn away from her, striding purposefully towards the inn's door which still swings slightly from its recent expulsion. The night's cool air hits you like a chilly wall, even as you brace yourself for the coming cold. A few other people, drunks and nighttime wanderers alike, mill around aimlessly. The cold--or the drink, more likely--must be doing something to their senses of direction. You turn to head towards the stables. It's hardly the best time go out riding, but you're hoping the cold will afford you some solitude on the road. Though it's not as if Vengard is ever particularly //warm// either, being situated at the very southern tip of Phanol's dagger-like landmass, so there's not much chance at a warm ride regardless. Your steed, a hardy mule you bought in Carrefo, has served you well enough thus far, shrugging off Telfrin's rocky plains and Mestiria's humid heat like a mere triviality. This cold has proven to be an entirely different beast. She'll have plenty of carrots once you arrive in Angar, of course. As you trudge along the frosty dirt, your chain of thought is interrupted by the sound of a struggle--panicked cries and frustrated grunts--in a nearby backalley. A robbery, or something worse. [[Find out what's going on.|PrologueScene4a]] [[It's hardly your problem, and you'd rather get to Angar sooner than later. Keep going.|PrologueScene4b]]

She brings her fingers to her thin lips to turn an imaginary key which she casually throws away. //If only she knew what you are. Would it not be fun to show her?// "Safe travels, friend!" She practically coos, chuckling to herself with the knowledge of what she believes to be a big secret. You snort and turn away from her, striding purposefully towards the inn's door which still swings slightly from its recent expulsion. The night's cool air hits you like a chilly wall, even as you brace yourself for the coming cold. A few other people, drunks and nighttime wanderers alike, mill around aimlessly. The cold--or the drink, more likely--must be doing something to their senses of direction. You turn to head towards the stables. It's hardly the best time go out riding, but you're hoping the cold will afford you some solitude on the road. Though it's not as if Vengard is ever particularly //warm// either, being situated at the very southern tip of Phanol's dagger-like landmass, so there's not much chance at a warm ride regardless. Your steed, a hardy mule you bought in Carrefo, has served you well enough thus far, shrugging off Telfrin's rocky plains and Mestiria's humid heat like a mere triviality. This cold has proven to be an entirely different beast. She'll have plenty of carrots once you arrive in Angar, of course. As you trudge along the frosty dirt, your chain of thought is interrupted by the sound of a struggle--panicked cries and frustrated grunts--in a nearby backalley. A robbery, or something worse. [[Find out what's going on.|PrologueScene4a]] [[It's hardly your problem, and you'd rather get to Angar sooner than later. Keep going.|PrologueScene4b]]

Her grin grows, and she practically coos, "Such a charmer! Wish all Weavers were like you..." She grumbles to herself. You tilt your head. They're hardly common down here, with their bulk being concentrated in Abria to the far northeast of the continent these days. Ever since... "You've met many?" She shrugs. "Only a few, but they were right pissants. Rude an' walkin' around with their big greensteel swords. Underpaid for fuckin' baths, too ... You've been nothin' but lovely, though!" She assures you. "By far my favourite Weaver, eh?" She adds with a wink. You smile cordially. If only she knew. "Everybody's different, I suppose. You have a good night, hey? I'm heading out before the early morning traffic moves through." She nods. "Sames to you, Weaver, an' stay safe." With that, she goes back to tending the bar, sliding a pair of tankards towards an overeager pair of guests. "I like you, make sure ya come on back sometime." She chuckles to herself. "Nice ones always leave too soon..." You smile and turn away from her, striding purposefully towards the inn's door which still swings slightly from its recent expulsion. The night's cool air hits you like a chilly wall, even as you brace yourself for the coming cold. A few other people, drunks and nighttime wanderers alike, mill around aimlessly. The cold--or the drink, more likely--must be doing something to their senses of direction. You turn to head towards the stables. It's hardly the best time go out riding, but you're hoping the cold will afford you some solitude on the road. Though it's not as if Vengard is ever particularly //warm// either, being situated at the very southern tip of Phanol's dagger-like landmass, so there's not much chance at a warm ride regardless. Your steed, a hardy mule you bought in Carrefo, has served you well enough thus far, shrugging off Telfrin's rocky plains and Mestiria's humid heat like a mere triviality. This cold has proven to be an entirely different beast. She'll have plenty of carrots once you arrive in Angar, of course. As you trudge along the frosty dirt, your chain of thought is interrupted by the sound of a struggle--panicked cries and frustrated grunts--in a nearby backalley. A robbery, or something worse. [[Find out what's going on.|PrologueScene4a]] [[It's hardly your problem, and you'd rather get to Angar sooner than later. Keep going.|PrologueScene4b]]

Your hand subconsciously drifts to your belt to check your dagger. Of course, you have your primary weapon, but that will hardly be needed in a place like this. The alley //reeks// of alcohol, and you're more than certain you wouldn't even need a blade to end whatever's going on. The struggle grows louder, and you discern a distinctly female voice--the struggling one, and another, tinged with anger. "Stay ... fuckin' //still//, you whore!" You round a corner, slinking past cold stone walls as your feet brush silently along the dirty, frost-licked path. You can see them now, two shapes in the dark. Writhing, //fighting//. Something worse, then. A whimper. "G-gods! Oh, gods, help me!" One dark, low chuckle. "No gods here, little lady. S'just ... just us..." [[You are silent as you sneak behind and throw him to the ground roughly.|PrologueScene5a]] [[Your hand itches as you ready your dagger to strike.|PrologueScene5b]] [["You would be incorrect." You call out.|PrologueScene5c]] [[You whistle sharply. "Get your filthy hands off her."|PrologueScene5d]] [[This is it? Not worth your time. You turn and leave, as quietly as you'd approached.|PrologueScene5e]]

The sounds of the struggle grow quieter and quieter as you get further away. A small voice in your head, not the one you're used to, admonishes you for leaving behind someone in need. You imagine the other one would praise this display of apathy, but it's strangely silent now. <div id = "invader-text">//This is not what you were taught.//</div> You huff, securing your pack further around your back. You don't have time to play hero. Whoever that was, they'll more likely than not survive. It's not as if this is a particularly wealthy town, either. Any chance of a reward would have been slim at best. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7][$prologueGirl to "ignored"]]

She has the nerve to look stricken as you snap at her, frowning deeply and putting her hands on her hips. "Didn't realise it was such an insult. You on a secret Weaver mission, or somethin'?" She shares a laugh with a couple of half-interested patrons, practically drowned in ale at this point. "What did I just tell you?" You seethe. "//Do not.//" "Or what? I know you Weavers don't hurt no innocents." She questions, inching closer to the edge of the bar. "You seem so, so sure I'm a Weaver. Shall I prove you wrong?" You smirk darkly, palms itching as you step forward. Something in her expression shifts as she locks eyes with you, and she shakes her head derisively. "Go on, off with ya. Don't you come on back, //ever//." She grunts. "Gladly." You say frostily, turning away and walking briskly to the door. "Teach me to show a bleedin' Weaver some fuckin' kindness..." You hear her mutter to herself. You snort and keep walking, striding purposefully towards the inn's door which still swings slightly from its recent expulsion. The night's cool air hits you like a chilly wall, even as you brace yourself for the coming cold. A few other people, drunks and nighttime wanderers alike, mill around aimlessly. The cold--or the drink, more likely--must be doing something to their senses of direction. You turn to head towards the stables. It's hardly the best time go out riding, but you're hoping the cold will afford you some solitude on the road. Though it's not as if Vengard is ever particularly //warm// either, being situated at the very southern tip of Phanol's dagger-like landmass, so there's not much chance at a warm ride regardless. Your steed, a hardy mule you bought in Carrefo, has served you well enough thus far, shrugging off Telfrin's rocky plains and Mestiria's humid heat like a mere triviality. This cold has proven to be an entirely different beast. She'll have plenty of carrots once you arrive in Angar, of course. As you trudge along the frosty dirt, your chain of thought is interrupted by the sound of a struggle--panicked cries and frustrated grunts--in a nearby backalley. A robbery, or something worse. [[Find out what's going on.|PrologueScene4a]] [[It's hardly your problem, and you'd rather get to Angar sooner than later. Keep going.|PrologueScene4b]]

He makes a sound akin to a squawk as you grab him by the scruff of the neck, delivering a quick punch to the back of his head to stun him before throwing him roughly to the ground. Every sense you have urges you to go further, to kick and punch and tear away at him until there's naught but a bubbling red mess on the cold ground--but you can't. You //won't.// The force of your throw causes him to slide a little, and he writhes around on the floor in pain, giving you time to turn to the frightened young woman. "T-thank you, stranger!" She stammers while shivering, likely from a combination of the cold and her fraught nerves. [["Don't thank me yet," you grunt, handing her one of your daggers. "Fight him off."|PrologueScene6a1][$prologueGirl to "fight"]] [["You'd best get moving if you don't want to see this," you say coldly.|PrologueScene6a2]] [["Run on now, young lady. This is no place for you," you comfort her, sending her on her way.|PrologueScene6a3]] [["Heroics are in short supply these days. I'd like some kind of payment," you say flatly.|PrologueScene6a4]]

//Dutiful slaughter...// You push those words out of your mind as you slip the knife from its sheath, trying not to delight in the smooth glide of steel upon leather. You drown the terrified woman's whimpers and screams out as you slink ever closer to her tormentor's back. This will be clean, a decidedly fair kill. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another. It's beautifully justifiable. There's barely a shocked gasp as your hand closes around his head in a tight grip and your knife-blade slips through his flesh with practiced ease. The woman yelps, surprised as you drag him backwards, cognizant of the fact she wouldn't appreciate being coated with hot arterial spray. He struggles weakly in your embrace, clawing manically at you with ever-weakening furor. You throw the writhing, choking body to the ground roughly as you quickly clean your blade on a spare bit of his clothing. At least he's useful. Turning to the now-trembling woman, you... [[Ask if she's alright, concerned.|PrologueScene6b1][$prologueGirl to "killedKind"]] [[Detachedly ask if she's okay.|PrologueScene6b2][$prologueGirl to "killedDetach"]] [[Roughly tell her that the streets aren't safe at this time.|PrologueScene6b3][$prologueGirl to "killedRough"]] [[Give her a spare knife of yours. Gods know she'll need it in the future.|PrologueScene6b4][$prologueGirl to "killedKnife"]] [[Say nothing at all, slipping away into the night.|PrologueScene6b5][$prologueGirl to "killedSilent"]]

He startles, and he turns as he roughly pins the frightened-looking young woman to the wall with his hands. "Who the fuck're you, eh? Piss off!" "You were wrong., un-godly may I be." You point out again, tone almost cheery. "Now, leave her be. I'd hate to have to get violent in front of the fair lady." "Yeah?" He spits, grinning manically, showing a smile filled with more gap than tooth. "Fuck'll you do about it?" He challenges. "Come and find out." You mutter lowly, gloved fingers flexing away any fatigue. His wiry body seems to tighten and burst like a spring as he surges towards you, a hoarse yell rasping out of his throat. He's admittedly quite fast, drunk as he is. [[You're faster, of course. You punch him squarely in the face without hesitation.|PrologueScene6c][$prologueGirl to "knockOut"]] [[You're faster, of course. He can barely react before you've unsheathed your dagger, swiping at him.|PrologueScene6c1][$prologueGirl to "killedRun"]] [[Take the hit sturdily, then slam him into a wall.|PrologueScene6c2][$prologueGirl to "killedWall"]]

He startles, and he turns as he roughly pins the frightened-looking young woman to the wall with his hands. "Who the fuck're you, eh? Piss off!" "Do I need to repeat myself?" You sigh, affecting a bored tone. "I told you to //take// your //hands// off her." "Yeah?" He spits, grinning manically, smile filled with more gap than tooth. "How's about I come an' put 'em on you instead?" "Who's paying for the room?" You joke, smirking when his eyes widen and he snarls. His wiry body seems to tighten and burst like a spring as he surges towards you, a hoarse yell rasping out of his throat. He's admittedly quite fast, drunk as he is. [[You're faster, of course. You punch him squarely in the face without hesitation.|PrologueScene6c][$prologueGirl to "knockOut"]] [[You're faster, of course. He can barely react before you've unsheathed your dagger, swiping at him.|PrologueScene6c1]] [[Take the hit sturdily, then slam him into a wall.|PrologueScene6c2]]

The young woman's whimpers grow in intensity, turning to frenzied shrieks as you get further away. You do your best to drown the noise out, even as a small voice in your head admonishes you for abandoning her. Not like the other one, which you imagine might even praise this display of apathy. Though it is silent, now. <div id = "invader-text">//Disgusting. You should know better.//</div> You grunt and shake the thought away, securing your pack further around your back. There was no time to play hero. She certainly didn't look at all wealthy, either. Any chance of a reward would have been slim at best. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7][$prologueGirl to "ignored"]]

"Are you alright?" You ask, keeping your voice soft and low so as not to startle her. Witnessing these sorts of things can be frightening, confusing, and a dozen other emotions beyond that. You'd prefer if she came out of this alright--if that's even possible. //Are you starting to doubt it?// She shivers as you get closer, trying to block her view of the body. //Already a body, is it? Well, it's certainly not a man anymore. Not a flicker of light shines in those eyes. Perhaps one day you'll take him again and again, in all of his beautiful new forms.// "You ... you killed..." She murmurs, half-delirious from stress and shock. "Don't look at him, look at me." You respond, blinking slowly and speaking as clearly as you can. "There is an inn nearby, get something warm to eat. Here," you stoop and take a few loose coins from the corpse's pocket, "use this. You've earned it." You only then realise how morbid this action is, but it's too late to go back now. She stares at you for a second, but picks the coins gingerly out of your hand all the same. You smile and nod encouragingly, watching her meander out of the alley, the way you came from. Just as you turn to leave, she calls out. "Wait!" "What is it?" You ask, steeling yourself against a fresh gust of frosty wind. Your cloak flutters heavily around your back and shoulders. You should probably wash it some time. "Who ... who are you? You're a warrior, or ... something else?" She asks, evidently confused by your piecemeal armour and weapon, stashed away but still very visible--a warning to those who might challenge you. [["I'm nobody." You smile. "You needn't concern yourself with me."|PrologueScene8a]] [["Something else." Your voice rings hollow.|PrologueScene8b]] [["You should forget all about me, about this." You mutter.|PrologueScene8c]]

She watches you, frightened, as you approach. "You're hurt?" You question, keeping your distance. Witnessing these sorts of things can be frightening, confusing, and a dozen other emotions beyond that. You're ... not equipped to handle that. It's likely you'd do more harm than good, trying to comfort her. You're certainly no mediator. //You have just proven that.// But you can try to do something. She shifts, trying to block her view of the body, and shakes her head slightly. //Already a body, is it? Well, it's certainly not a man anymore. Not a flicker of light in those eyes. Perhaps one day you'll take him again and again, in all of his beautiful new forms.// "You ... you killed..." She murmurs, half-delirious from stress and shock. "I did." You respond, blinking slowly and speaking as clear as you can. "He would have done worse to you." You add, after a moment's hesitation. She swallows thickly and nods. "I--I know that..." "Good," you mutter, stooping to take a few loose coins from the corpse's pocket. "For some food, at the inn nearby." She stares at you for a second, but picks the coins gingerly out of your hand all the same. She searches for something more in your blank expression, but ends up simply walking away, the way you came in. Just as you turn to leave, she calls out. "Wait!" "Hm?" You grunt, steeling yourself against a fresh gust of frosty wind. Your cloak flutters heavily around your back and shoulders. You should probably wash it some time. "Who ... who are you? You're a warrior, or ... something else?" She asks, evidently confused by your piecemeal armour and weapon, stashed away but still very visible--a warning to those who might challenge you. [["I'm nobody." You smile. "You needn't concern yourself with me."|PrologueScene8a]] [["Something else." Your voice rings hollow.|PrologueScene8b]] [["You should forget all about me, about this." You mutter.|PrologueScene8c]]

"The hell are you doing out at this time?" You grunt, approaching slowly. "You ought to have known it isn't safe to be on your own at night." She shrinks into herself as you get closer, clearly afraid of your stern tone and demeanour. Witnessing these sorts of things can be frightening, confusing, and a dozen other emotions beyond that. You're ... not equipped to handle that. It's likely you'd do more harm than good, trying to comfort her. But you can try to do //something//. //So why even bother?// She shifts, trying to block her view of the body. //Already a body, is it? Well, it's certainly not a man anymore. Not a flicker of light in those eyes. Perhaps one day you'll take him again and again, in all of his beautiful new forms.// "You ... you killed..." She murmurs, half-delirious from stress and shock. "Would you rather I let him have his way with you?" You raise a rigid eyebrow, crossing your arms. She swallows thickly and shakes her head. "N-no..." "Good," you mutter, stooping to take a few loose coins from the corpse's pocket. "Feed yourself, there's an inn nearby." She stares at you for a second, but picks the coins gingerly out of your hand all the same. She searches for something more in your blank expression, but ends up simply walking away, the way you came in. She does not turn back. You shrug, having done what you set out to do, there's little reason to keep standing here. The stables will shut soon, and you'd best get going. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

A quiet squeak escapes her as you draw the blade, and you silently curse yourself for the implication. "It's alright, I'll not hurt you," you assure, trying to keep your voice as soothing as possible. You flip the knife in your hand and hold it out to her, hilt-first. "You ought to have something to protect yourself with, should something like this happen again." You try to smile, but you feel it doesn't quite reach your eyes. She stares at the blade, then back at you. Witnessing these sorts of things can be frightening, confusing, and a dozen other emotions beyond that. You're ... not equipped to handle that. It's likely you'd do more harm than good, trying to comfort her. But you can try to do //something//. //How much will a knife change, next time?// She shifts, trying to block her view of the body. //Already a body, is it? Well, it's certainly not a man anymore. Not a flicker of light in those eyes. Perhaps one day you'll take him again and again, in all of his beautiful new forms.// "You ... you killed..." She murmurs, half-delirious from stress and shock. "He can't hurt you anymore." You comfort her as best you know how. "In your place, I would not mourn him." She swallows thickly and nods. "Y-yeah..." You nod, holding the knife out further. "Please, take it. I have more, and you need this more than I do." The weight of your stowed weapon becomes more apparent, all of a sudden. She frowns. "B-but I'm a woman. We can't..." You shake the knife in your hand. "You can worry about that once you're alright. This," you flip it around, forgetting where exactly you learned the trick from, and hold it out //again//, "will make sure of that." After a beat, she does step forward and slowly grab the hilt, the thing looking somewhat at odds with her subdued mien. You unclip its sheath from your belt and hand it to her as well. "Thank you," she says after a moment of looking at it with an unreadable expression. "I don't know if I can--well..." You nod again. "It's alright. Sometimes just having a weapon is deterrent enough. Just never pull it without intending to use it. Here," you bend, stooping to take a few loose coins from the corpse's pocket, "use this and get yourself something to eat at the inn nearby." You only then realise how morbid this action is, but it's too late to pull your hand back. She stares at you for a second, but picks the coins gingerly from your palm all the same. You nod encouragingly, watching her meander out of the alley, the way you came from. Just as you turn to leave, she calls out. "Wait!" "Yes?" You ask, steeling yourself against a fresh gust of frosty wind. Your cloak flutters heavily around your back and shoulders. You should probably wash it some time. "Who ... who are you? You're a warrior, or ... something else?" She asks, evidently confused by your piecemeal armour and weapon, stashed away but still very visible--a warning to those who might challenge you. [["I'm nobody." You smile. "You needn't concern yourself with me."|PrologueScene8a]] [["Something else." Your voice rings hollow.|PrologueScene8b]] [["You should forget all about me, about this." You mutter.|PrologueScene8c]]

You think you hear the start of a thanks, but you're gone before she can say anything further. Witnessing these sorts of things can be frightening, confusing, and a dozen other emotions beyond that. You're ... not equipped to handle that. It's likely you'd do more harm than good, trying to comfort her. You're of no use to anyone, except for in a fight. //You have just proven that.// Having done what you set out to do, there's little reason to keep standing here. The stables will shut soon, and you'd best get going. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

Just as he's within striking distance, your balled fist whips out in a lightning-fast hook, catching him right on his jaw. There's the smack of bone colliding, and then he collapses to a messy heap on the ground, eyes rolled back in his head. Every sense you have urges you to go further, to kick and punch and tear away at him until there's naught but a bubbling red mess on the cold ground--but you can't. You //won't.// It would be clean, a decidedly fair kill. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another. It's beautifully justifiable. No, this innocent will be spared your wretchedness; your vile intent. Regardless of the dreams that are sure to visit you for this trespass. You look up, to the now-trembling woman, who shrinks away slightly as your attention turns to her. "Find a guard, tell them what happened." You advise, nudging the unconscious man with your foot. "He'll still be here, so don't worry." She nods feverishly, and almost steps forward to thank you. Something stops her, though, and she mumbles a quiet thanks before dashing off, the way you came in from. With nothing more to do, it would be best to leave this in the hands of the town guards. Not wanting any further delay, you opt to leave the scene. The stables will shut soon, and you'd best get going. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

You catch the way his eyes widen in shock as the blade's arc carries it directly across his throat. This will be clean, a decidedly fair kill. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another. It's beautifully justifiable. A pained yelp and a series of deep, guttural choking sounds come next as he writhes uselessly on the floor to your side. You step to the left slightly to stop his blood getting on your boots. Within moments, he's gone limp. You quickly clean your blade on a spare bit of his clothing, stooping down to do so. At least now he's useful. Turning to the now-trembling woman, you... [[Ask if she's alright, concerned.|PrologueScene6b1][$prologueGirl to "killedKind"]] [[Detachedly ask if she's okay.|PrologueScene6b2][$prologueGirl to "killedDetach"]] [[Roughly tell her that the streets aren't safe at this time.|PrologueScene6b3][$prologueGirl to "killedRough"]] [[Give her a spare knife of yours. Gods know she'll need it in the future.|PrologueScene6b4][$prologueGirl to "killedKnife"]] [[Say nothing at all, slipping away into the night.|PrologueScene6b5][$prologueGirl to "killedSilent"]]

His fist connects with your jaw, and you stumble. He hits harder than he should, you muse, as you retaliate by roughly grabbing his shoulders. You lift him slightly, turning to slam him into a nearby wall with more force than you intend. There's a //crunch// as he collides with the solid stone, and he releases a shaky breath before slumping to the ground once you let go. Empty eyes stare up at you. Oh. Well, then. A deep squirming part of you shudders in delight at the action. That was a //dirty// kill, but a decidedly fair one. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another. It's beautifully justifiable. Turning to the now-trembling woman, you... [[Ask if she's alright, concerned.|PrologueScene6b1][$prologueGirl to "killedKind"]] [[Detachedly ask if she's okay.|PrologueScene6b2][$prologueGirl to "killedDetach"]] [[Roughly tell her that the streets aren't safe at this time.|PrologueScene6b3][$prologueGirl to "killedRough"]] [[Give her a spare knife of yours. Gods know she'll need it in the future.|PrologueScene6b4][$prologueGirl to "killedKnife"]] [[Say nothing at all, slipping away into the night.|PrologueScene6b5][$prologueGirl to "killedSilent"]]

"W-what?" She stammers as you hold the hilt out to her. To her credit, she does take it. "Can you pay me?" You question, already knowing the answer. This is no noble girl. "N-no?!" She says, voice growing shrill with desperation. You don't even need to look behind you to know the man is recovering slowly. "Then defend yourself." You grunt, stepping behind her and nudging her towards him. "Why? Why make me--" She starts, but you cut her off sharply. "This is your fight, girl. I won't risk my skin because you're too afraid to get some blood on your hands." You mutter lowly in her ear, and step back. Of course, if she falters, you might step in. If she runs, you'll just have him to yourself. You watch with detached curiosity as the man stumbles, disoriented, towards her. "You fuckin' bitch, think youse can 'andle that little thing, eh? Come on, then! Let's s-- //Gah//!" He's interrupted by a quick, shaky swipe of the knife's blade across his arm. He stumbles back, suddenly cognizant of just how much you sharpen your tools. The young woman frantically gives chase as adrenaline takes over, lashing furiously at him as he struggles to protect his vulnerable torso. After a few seconds, he turns and runs, shouting, "You crazy whore!" as he disappears down the street. She briskly turns and startles as you approach, holding the dagger's tip towards you. Holding up your hands placatingly, you talk her down. "Easy, girl. Threat's running down the street now, well-humbled." "Why'd you make me ... //why?//" She starts to sob, dropping the bloodied knife to the cold stone. You twitch at the disrespect of your weapon, but focus on her. You cross your arms clinically, face half-hidden beneath the bulk of your tight-wrapped cloak. "You wanted to live, so you protected yourself." You reason, even as a look of disbelieving disgust grows in her eyes. "People who coast through life, not even daring to stand up and //try// to fight for themselves, they're //disgusting//. " You bend down to pick the knife up and clean it on a spare rag, already filthy. From the corner of your eye you can see the shaking woman, watching you as if you'll spring on her like //he// did. "Don't look at me like that," you bite, growing irritated, "you should be thanking me. With my help you've discovered a new side of yourself today: A survivor." "You're mad..." You hear her shakily mutter, and you smirk grimly, handing the now-clean dagger back to her. "N-not even human..." "//Tch//," you scoff, turning away. "Keep the knife; you're likely to need it more than me, wandering the streets unarmed at this hour like a damned //fool//," you spit without looking back. [[Soon, you're back on the path to the stables.|NewPrologueScene7]]

Her brown eyes widen, and she's gone before you can say anything else. You turn back to the man who still writhes on the floor, struggling to get up to face you. "The fuck was that for..." He whines, groaning as he pokes and prods at the back of his head. After a, quite frankly, amusing few seconds of watching him fumble his way back into a standing position, he glares at you with undisguised, drunken rage. "Who the hell're you? You wan' a fight, that it?" He murmurs, raising his fists. Your brow furrows in confusion. Is he an idiot? [["Were you dropped on your head?" You laugh. "Get out of here before you do something you'll regret, you sot."|PrologueScene7a3][$prologueGirl to "runAwayThreaten"]] [[You punch him in the jaw. "Not much of a fight."|PrologueScene7a4][$prologueGirl to "runAwayKnockOut"]] [["Do you?" You say, pulling out a knife. You only intend to scare him off.|PrologueScene7a5][$prologueGirl to "runAwayThreaten"]] [["Do you?" You say, pulling out a knife, fully intending to use it.|PrologueScene7a6][$prologueGirl to "runAwayKill"]]

Her brown eyes widen and she gives you a shaky smile, full of gratitude, before scampering away. You turn back to the man who still writhes on the floor, struggling to get up to face you. "The fuck was that for..." He whines, groaning as he pokes and prods at the back of his head. After a, quite frankly, amusing few seconds of watching him fumble his way back into a standing position, he glares at you with undisguised, drunken rage. "Who the hell're you? You wan' a fight, that it?" He murmurs, raising his fists. Your brow furrows in confusion. Is he an idiot? [["Were you dropped on your head?" You laugh. "Get out of here before you do something you'll regret, you sot."|PrologueScene7a3][$prologueGirl to "runAwayThreaten"]] [[You punch him in the jaw. "Not much of a fight."|PrologueScene7a4][$prologueGirl to "runAwayKnockOut"]] [["Do you?" You say, pulling out a knife. You only intend to scare him off.|PrologueScene7a5][$prologueGirl to "runAwayThreaten"]] [["Do you?" You say, pulling out a knife, fully intending to use it.|PrologueScene7a6][$prologueGirl to "runAwayKill"]]

"W-what?" She stammers, looking cautiously behind you as the man writhes on the floor, struggling to recover from your attack. "Anything you have, really." You reason, holding a hand out. "I suppose I //could// just leave, and let him get back to his business. But I reckon you'd not appreciate that, so please, something for my efforts?" You blink slowly at her. She glares at you with a mix of rage, disgust and desperation, but hurriedly fiddles with her clothing, tossing a silvery brooch at you. "This is all I have, you //monster//." She sniffs, running off without another word. The brooch depicts a swan in flight, sailing over a calm river. It's a fairly small thing, but it might fetch a decent price at the right place. You turn back to the man who still writhes on the floor, struggling to get up to face you. "The fuck was that for..." He whines, groaning as he pokes and prods at the back of his head. After a, quite frankly, amusing few seconds of watching him fumble his way back into a standing position, he glares at you with undisguised, drunken rage. "Who the hell're you? You wan' a fight, that it?" He murmurs, raising his fists. Your brow furrows in confusion. Is he an idiot? [["Were you dropped on your head?" You laugh. "Get out of here before you do something you'll regret, you sot."|PrologueScene7a3][$prologueGirl to "runAwayThreatenB"]] [[You punch him in the jaw. "Not much of a fight."|PrologueScene7a4][$prologueGirl to "runAwayKnockOutB"]] [["Do you?" You say, pulling out a knife. You only intend to scare him off.|PrologueScene7a5][$prologueGirl to "runAwayThreatenB"]] [["Do you?" You say, pulling out a knife, fully intending to use it.|PrologueScene7a6][$prologueGirl to "runAwayKillB"]]

The stable is chilly, sparsely lit and mostly silent, save for the complaining of a few uncomfortable beasts from within. A weedy-looking stablehand, no more than sixteen, notices your entrance and scampers over, hunching from the cold. "Hail, fellow!" He chirps out a greeting you've heard a hundred times since coming to Vengard two months ago. "We're almost closin' up, don't you know? What's your business?" He peers at you with sleepy blue-grey eyes, unabashedly interested in your armour and weaponry. Something in your <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><span id="cycle"><<cycle "$eyecolour" autoselect>> <<option "dark blue" "dark blue">> <<option "light blue" "light blue">> <<option "brown" "brown">> <<option "black" "black">> <<option "amber" "amber">> <<option "dark green" "dark green">> <<option "light green" "light green">> <<option "grey" "grey">> <<option "hazel" "hazel">> <<option "violet" "violet">> <</cycle>></span> eyes<<else>><<listbox "$eyecolour" autoselect>> <<option "dark blue" "dark blue">> <<option "light blue" "light blue">> <<option "brown" "brown">> <<option "black" "black">> <<option "amber" "amber">> <<option "dark green" "dark green">> <<option "light green" "light green">> <<option "grey" "grey">> <<option "hazel" "hazel">> <<option "violet" "violet">> <</listbox>> eyes<</if>> stops him from pursuing that line of questioning, and he clamps his mouth shut lest any unwanted questions spill out of it. [["...My mule?" You look at him, slightly amused by the question.|NewPrologueScene7.5a]] [[You nod towards the stables where the mules are kept, silently.|NewPrologueScene7.5b]]

Every sense you have urges you to strike, to kick and punch and tear away at him until there's naught but a bubbling red mess on the cold ground--but you can't. You //won't.// As much as it would be clean, a decidedly fair kill. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another. It's beautifully justifiable. No. Not tonight. That part of you will not be sated yet, regardless of the dreams that are sure to visit you for this trespass. "If you come for me, //boy//," You lock eyes with him, contempt dripping from your low tone, "you'd best know exactly where you're going to hit. Because I do." He stops in his tracks, suddenly unsure of himself. He stammers and sputters at you, but ultimately chooses to shout an obscenity before taking off in a poorly-coordinated sprint. How wise. You shrug, having done what you set out to do, there's little reason to keep standing here. The stables will shut soon, and you'd best get going. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

Every sense you have urges you to strike, to kick and punch and tear away at him until there's naught but a bubbling red mess on the cold ground--but you can't. You //won't.// It would be clean, a decidedly fair kill. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another. It's beautifully justifiable. No. Not tonight. That part of you will not be sated yet, but you can still glean some satisfaction from this. He makes a sound akin to a whimper as your fist connects with his jaw, and you hear a muted //crack// alongside it. You hiss slightly as pain blooms in your knuckle, but push the sensation away. The man crumples to the floor unceremoniously, jaw more likely than not broken. It's less than he deserves, you know that for certain. You'd rather not get blood on your hands though, or the news spreading of you killing someone who may be well-known here. You breathe in deep, nursing your slightly sore hand. Having done what you set out to do, there's little reason to keep standing here. The stables will shut soon, and you'd best get going. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

Every sense you have urges you to strike, to kick and punch and tear away at him until there's naught but a bubbling red mess on the cold ground--but you can't. You //won't.// As much as it would be clean, a decidedly fair kill. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another. It's beautifully justifiable. No. Not tonight. That part of you will not be sated yet. Or, perhaps..? "Go on." You spit. "I've not cleaned my knife in a while. I'd love a good reason to." He stops in his tracks, suddenly unsure of himself. He stammers and sputters at you, but ultimately chooses to shout an obscenity before taking off in a poorly-coordinated sprint. How wise. You return your dagger to its sheath with a little twirl. Having done what you set out to do, there's little reason to keep standing here. The stables will shut soon, and you'd best get going. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

This will be clean, a decidedly fair kill. A favour done, one rotten life taken to protect another, in the future. It's beautifully justifiable. He stops in his tracks, suddenly unsure of himself. He stammers and sputters at you, but ultimately chooses to shout an obscenity before making to take off in a sprint. Oh, no. You're faster than him, and he's barely able to cry out before you lunge forward, dagger in hand. The blade slips through cloth and flesh as it punctures his shoulder and he makes little more than a strangled grunt. Your second stab is considerably more fatal--and messy. You quickly push him away from you as the fresh wound in his throat starts to sputter and spray. How would they react at the stable, to one such as you coming in coated in hot blood? Perhaps they'd congratulate you, once you explained it. //You could be a hero...// He writhes on the floor uncomfortably, gasping and gagging as he begins to drown in his own arterial font. Under your breath, a voice that's hardly yours mutters, "//What chance did you have//?" You blink, wiping your bloodied dagger on his tatty tunic before returning it to its sheath with a twirl. Having done what you set out to do, there's little reason to keep standing here. The stables will shut soon, and you'd best get going. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

"But I--" You cut her off, trying not to sound too sharp. "I'm just a courier who was here at the right time, miss. You should really get some food and drink in you; nothing better to quell a fright like this," you encourage, readying yourself to leave once more. She looks uncertain for a moment, but something in her expression shifts, and she releases a long shaky sigh. "You're right ... I--" She sniffs. "Thanks." She mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. With that, she turns and vanishes into the dark alley. And so you go on your way, too. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

"Oh..." The woman mutters, sounding distantly sad. "Well, I--" She shivers despite her best efforts, "thanks ... for, well..." You nod and smile grimly. "Don't mention it, miss. You should really get some food and drink in you; nothing better to quell a fright like this," you encourage, readying yourself to leave once more. "You're right..." She breathes. "Um ... bye." She murmurs a quick farewell, slipping away into the dark alley. And so you go on your way, too. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

"But I--" You cut her off sternly. "Me, him, all of this is better off forgotten sooner rather than later. I'm telling you to //leave it//." She looks somewhat stricken at your lecture, and you rub your face with your gloved hand, frustrated at yourself for getting worked up. You're better than this, aren't you? "Just ... don't lose yourself in what could've been, what happened was all me." You say, wishing to absolve her of any guilt she might have--he doesn't deserve any sympathy she might hold, certainly not after what he was trying to do. "Go on, now." She nods sadly, slipping away into the darkness. And so you go on your way, too. [[Next|NewPrologueScene7]]

"Sure," he grins, "you come on back anytime, yeh? I'll keep some fresh hay to the side for this one." He says, patting your mule's side fondly. "I'm sure she'll be looking forward to it." You nod softly. He smiles. "You 'ave a safe journey now, wherever you're goin'! Don't run into any hellspawn or the like!" Your eye twitches, and you snap your gaze away from him. Your palms itch again. //Dull eyes stare up at a filthy, reddened sky. Unfeeling, unseeing.// "I'll try not to." You manage to get out as you take off at a brisk trot, turning on to the main road that will eventually lead you out of Montsfoot and up into the distant mountain pass. Even now, dark as the night sky is, the Sivjel Mountains are visible: seven jutting spikes, seeming to carve into the heavens with their dark crags. [[Next|NewPrologueScene10]]

He grins widely, bowing his head. "Oh! Thankee, honest!" He turns, running back into the stable. "Da! Look what I got!" He then runs back to you, smiling all the way. "You 'ave a safe journey now, wherever you're goin'! Don't run into any hellspawn or the like!" Your eye twitches, and you snap your gaze away from him. Your palms itch again. //Dull eyes stare up at a filthy, reddened sky. Unfeeling, unseeing.// "I'll try not to." You manage to get out as you take off at a brisk trot, turning on to the main road that will eventually lead you out of Montsfoot and up into the distant mountain pass. Even now, dark as the night sky is, the Sivjel Mountains are visible: seven jutting spikes, seeming to carve into the heavens with their dark crags. [[Next|NewPrologueScene10]]

He snickers at your joke, but nods in gratitude at the offering. "Thankee, honest. S'a big help, y'know." "Buy yourself some food or something, stablehands oughtn't to be as skinny as you." You chuckle. He smiles. "You 'ave a safe journey now, wherever you're goin'! Don't run into any hellspawn or the like!" Your eye twitches, and you snap your gaze away from him. Your palms itch again. //Dull eyes stare up at a filthy, reddened sky. Unfeeling, unseeing.// "I'll try not to." You manage to get out as you take off at a brisk trot, turning on to the main road that will eventually lead you out of Montsfoot and up into the distant mountain pass. Even now, dark as the night sky is, the Sivjel Mountains are visible: seven jutting spikes, seeming to carve into the heavens with their dark crags. [[Next|NewPrologueScene10]]

He looks taken aback slightly, but accepts the money with gratitude. "Thankee, traveller. S'a big help..." "Oh, I'm sure." You snort. He frowns, like he's about to say something, but decides not to. Smart. "You 'ave a safe journey anyway, wherever you're goin'. Don't run into any hellspawn or such." He mutters. Your eye twitches, and you snap your gaze away from him. Your palms itch again. //Dull eyes stare up at a filthy, reddened sky. Unfeeling, unseeing.// "I'll try not to." You manage to get out as you take off at a brisk trot, turning on to the main road that will eventually lead you out of Montsfoot and up into the distant mountain pass. Even now, dark as the night sky is, the Sivjel Mountains are visible: seven jutting spikes, seeming to carve into the heavens with their dark crags. [[Next|NewPrologueScene10]]

"You gotta be doin' something right, eh?" He grins, patting her side. "They's can sense your personality an' that, innit?" You hum. "Maybe. I'm not her first owner, so she probably picked it up from the last one." "Yeah, maybe." He smiles. "You 'ave a safe journey now, wherever you're goin'! Don't run into any hellspawn or the like!" Your eye twitches, and you snap your gaze away from him. Your palms itch again. //Dull eyes stare up at a filthy, reddened sky. Unfeeling, unseeing.// "I'll try not to." You manage to get out as you take off at a brisk trot, turning on to the main road that will eventually lead you out of Montsfoot and up into the distant mountain pass. Even now, dark as the night sky is, the Sivjel Mountains are visible: seven jutting spikes, seeming to carve into the heavens with their dark crags. [[Next|NewPrologueScene10]]

The dimly-lit town of Montsfoot soon turns to darkened, quiet road as your mule takes you beyond the borders and into relative wilderness, cobbled path giving way to hard-packed frosty dirt that crunches with each impact of her hooves. There's precious little greenery to be found, save for small patches of hardy bushes and trees, steadfast against the growing chill. These roads aren't the safest to travel, owing to the tricky terrain surrounding them which lends itself to ambushes, so you have to be on your guard. Always. //The hot pressure of jagged teeth around your kicking leg. Chunks of gravel drag across your supple face. You cry out, but make no sound.// As you venture further out, the first hint of sleety rain begins to fall, illuminated by the lantern attached to your saddle as the wind carries it through the air. You blink it away and pull up your hood, slightly miffed that it would start in earnest once you're sufficiently far from any shelter. You wrap your coat tighter around your shoulders for warmth, tucking your chin deeply in to your thick, tattered gambeson. A stinging sensation pervades your already sore eyes that doesn't go away no matter how much you try to blink it off. The mule's uncomfortable grunts sound out below, and you rub her side in a manner that you hope to be soothing. "I know how you feel, girl..." Your voice registers as little more than a mutter, and you slump in the saddle. Looking skyward, you gaze at the cloudy, starless expanse above. Nearly a full moon. Soon there will be reprieve. Peace, for but a day. A sigh quickly grows into a tired rumble in the back of your throat. [[You are tired.|NewPrologueScene11]]

<<set $currentChapter = 0>><div id = "header-text">Decades Ago...</div> [[It is a cold, windy night.|PrologueScene1]]

//You scramble out of your bedroll and desperately grab for your weapon as Optan Desane trips on your legs, his open throat a sputtering font of gore turned inky-red in the unlit tent. Whatever warning he carries drowns in his shredded throat as a crossbow bolt rips through brittle mail and supple flesh. Chaos ensues between the other inhabitants of your tent, confused cries spreading through the barely-trained recruits as the reality of what just happened sets in. Fighting outside. Steel on steel. You have no idea what is happening. You soon find out the problem, regardless. A raid; a small group came in the night, seeking the captains of your battalion. Thus, you would lose yourself for the next few hours, slaughtering dozens at the behest of the slithering voice in your head.// A voice that has been less insistent ever since the letter came. Delivered by a flighty-looking messenger to the inn last night, it had come with your name written upon it and a summons to a not-so-far port town in the north-east: just a few days of riding through the mountain pass, if you prove fortunate. //[[Angar.|NewPrologueScene2]]

//Mother dead, the father with her. Rotten business.// The courier knows precious little about the child in his arms, only what he saw when his client handed it, screeching and wailing, to him--along with strict orders to take the baby away from the city to the mainland, and the knowledge that he ''would'' be pursued. He brushes a gloved hand over a pock-marked cheek. A letter in his coat pocket crinkles stiffly, still sealed. He was ordered not to open it under any circumstance, only to give it to the recipient in Calis, where he would receive the rest of his payment. [[Suddenly, the little boy stirs in his arms.|PrologueScene2][$agab to "male"]] [[Suddenly, the little girl stirs in his arms.|PrologueScene2][$agab to "female"]]

//Crystal rain. Immolated, charred soil. The sky itself ''burns'', a roiling inferno that unfurls beyond the horizon, eternal. Your entire body is on fire, a screeching in the back of your mind that seems so disparate to the eery quiet of the empty city around you. It stands before you, back turned; the one with a name you've heard a trillion times screeched hopelessly into the void--a curse, a blessing, a prayer. A pretty white flower twinkles at the entity's feet, earnest and impossibly quick-growing; crystal droplets bouncing from its unnaturally sturdy petals. The entity stoops, lanky legs bending at the knee as its back arches forwards slightly so they can reach the flower. It wobbles a little, still unfamiliar with this hellish form. It cannot be... In the distance, an ocean boils. It picks the flower--gently, as if the act might hurt ''it'' rather than the plant--and brings the delicate thing to its nose, inhaling softly as it stands and turns to you. The flower wilts with immediacy, stark white fading to grey as formerly sturdy petals slough off the head of the plant like tender meat from a bone. The flower drops from now uncurled fingers. It fades to dust before it can even touch the dead soil. A soft, almost remorseful look passes over the monster's face. It is mourning, not simply the death of this one little flower, but of //everything//. Conflict flashes across its metallic, shattered features for but a fleeting moment before it morphs back to steely conviction. Too-blue eyes fixate upon you now, a look halfway between hunger and ''rage'' festering within those ultramarine depths. ''"Oh, dear. It would seem I've killed it..."'' The voice you hear is not one of this plane. Splintering bone. The slowing beat of a dying bird's wings. The undulating squeal of the wind on a stormy night. It all rushes through your ears at once, clamorous and terrible. The words, however, are clear; spoken like a melancholy poem, airy and languid, forcing you to listen despite the roaring cacophany behind them. ''"Such is life, I suppose."'' [[The world itself trembles, coming apart at the very seams.|Chap1Scene1]]

"Ey! I'm talkin' to ya, Weaver!" She yells behind you, but you're soon out of her sight as you stride purposefully towards the inn's door which still swings slightly from its recent expulsion. The night's cool air hits you like a chilly wall, even as you brace yourself for the coming cold. A few other people, drunks and nighttime wanderers alike, mill around aimlessly. The cold--or the drink, more likely--must be doing something to their senses of direction. You turn to head towards the stables. It's hardly the best time go out riding, but you're hoping the cold will afford you some solitude on the road. Though it's not as if Vengard is ever particularly //warm// either, being situated at the very southern tip of Phanol's dagger-like landmass, so there's not much chance at a warm ride regardless. Your steed, a hardy mule you bought in Carrefo, has served you well enough thus far, shrugging off Telfrin's rocky plains and Mestiria's humid heat like a mere triviality. This cold has proven to be an entirely different beast. She'll have plenty of carrots once you arrive in Angar, of course. As you trudge along the frosty dirt, your chain of thought is interrupted by the sound of a struggle--panicked cries and frustrated grunts--in a nearby backalley. A robbery, or something worse. [[Find out what's going on.|PrologueScene4a]] [[It's hardly your problem, and you'd rather get to Angar sooner than later. Keep going.|PrologueScene4b]]

<div id = "header-text">Debts</div> One might assume a Debt is a fairly mundane thing: a sum owed to a benefactor, to be paid back after a certain amount of time. That is not the case--certainly not in Phanol, where Indebting is a common practice amongst those desperate enough to have the rite performed upon themselves. Part of the Blood-writing school of Risen magic, a Debt is sealed by a sort of pact wherein a tattoo is marked upon the debtor's skin after agreeing to a time period and a set of terms laid out by the debtee. From this point, the debtor is beholden to the whims of the debtee--a risky and dangerous chance to take, of course. There are many laws surrounding Debts to ensure the debtor understands precisely what they are getting themselves into, though they are still considered a last resort in many cases. Some debtees can be quite manipulative with Debts by being more vague about the terms--doing whatever someone wishes is a far more lenient term than, say, defending them for six months. Once marked with the tattoo, the debtor will be unable to act against the terms in their contract. If they resist, the tattoo will begin to burn and eventually leave a scar--even when dissipated, which would spell trouble for them should they ever seek another Debt. None have been able to resist the mental compulsion a Debt brand provides for very long, as they are essentially working against their own mind, and an agreement they helped to set in stone. Only a debtee can end a Debt early, though it requires a mage talented in the art of Blood-writing to do so.

"It's a nice place." Aunt Sonia notes idly, looking around the half-built shop with unstocked shelves and partly-opened crates. "Well, it was nice when we used to visit //before//, but you've made it something else, for sure." It's definitely better-maintained than your own home, that's for sure. The place has been refurbished entirely, with a tasteful wood flooring and brightly coloured walls. It looks inviting and expansive at the same time, despite being roughly the same size as your own home. The front windows are larger too, letting more light in, though the shutters are currently closed. "It is larger than we had expected," Willem muses, running a hand across a new-looking shelf, "though all of the living facilites had to be moved upstairs. I do not expect my paying customers would have appreciated Samuel eating his dinner while they were browsing." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Ah, well, he'd make a good salesman, eh?" Uncle Callen laughs encouragingly. Willem smiles, though it's not as wide as you'd expect at the joke. "Perhaps one day."<<else>>"He could serve as entertainment or something." Aunt Sonia snorts. "I'm sure some places employ kids as jesters, right?" Willem chuckles and smiles at her joke. "I'm certain he would excel at it."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Speakin' of," Uncle Callen suddenly points out, "where is the lad? There's somethin' we need to talk about, soon." He says, casting a glance your way for a moment.<<else>>"Speakin' of," Uncle Callen suddenly points out, "where is the lad? There's somethin' Sonia needs to talk about, soon." He says, casting a glance your way for a moment.<</if>> "That's right." Aunt Sonia nods. "Nothing terrible, just a small issue we'd like to talk to the both of you about, if that's alright?" Willem looks slightly stricken, but nods his agreement quickly. "Of course, of course. Has he done something to offend?" Uncle Callen quickly shakes his head. "Nothin' of the sort, friend. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>He's a lovely lad, but he an' $firstname here came back from the park on their own, nobody to accompany 'em." Aunt Sonia nods beside him, careful not to lean on something like she normally would. Uncle Callen must have told her about what happened earlier, of course.<<else>>I'm sure he's a lovely lad, but he an' $firstname here came back from the park on their own, nobody to accompany 'em." Aunt Sonia nods beside him, careful not to lean on something like she normally would. She must have told him about what happened earlier, of course.<</if>> Willem's arms cross and he scratches his chin slowly. "Samuel told me the two of them arrived safely..." [[Next|Chap2Scene59]]

Aunt Sonia taps her boot on the floor quietly as she responds. "They did, which we're thankful for, but Sola's a busy place, especially during the afternoon in Summer. We know how dangerous cities are for children, and we're vigilant about it, is all. I'm aware you've come from a smaller town on the surface, where you knew the place and people that dwelled within. Sola is different, unfortunately." She informs, perhaps a little too bluntly. Uncle Callen butts in. "She don't mean to be harsh, Willem. We've just seen too much to //not// be careful 'bout this sort of thing.." The other man nods, in deep consideration of their words. "I would ask your forgiveness, Masters. I hadn't considered the risk of the situation, and only wished for Samuel to be comfortable. The journey here had been stressful for him, and I sought to give him some freedom from me. I must admit I am not particularly, ah, //fun.//" He chuckles, but keeps looking apologetically at them. "I will speak to him on my own, of course. My late wife liked to say he was born with a second heart instead of a brain, acting on instinct alone." He says with a fond laugh. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia share a glance that he doesn't notice, but you do. So Sam's mother is... <<if $cautious <= 40>>"Oh, this one's the same." Uncle Callen chuckles. "That'd be perfect, thank ye." He smiles and nods,<<else>>"That'd be perfect, thank ye." Uncle Callen smiles and nods,<</if>> though Aunt Sonia looks somewhat disappointed that she can't deliver a lecture herself. <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>You're glad for him.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50>>You're disappointed, too. It might have been amusing to see.<</if>> "Though, I would appreciate some assistance from you in the matter, to be a measured, friendly voice for him in this place you certainly know better than he?" Willem turns your way then, the request clearly intended for you. [[You nod seriously. "I'll keep him safe!" (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene59a][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 3]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥You nod seriously. "I'll keep him safe!" Your words come out more protective than you'd intended. (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene59b][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 3]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [["Yes, sir." You respond obediently. (Stubborn -)|Chap2Scene59c][$stubborn to $stubborn - 3]] [["Why would I try to make him do things differently?" You scrunch your face up. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene59d][$stubborn to $stubborn + 3]] <<if $samRelationship <= 45>>[["Yes, sir." You respond obediently, though you're confused that he'd consider you a friend to Sam. (Stubborn -)|Chap2Scene59e][$stubborn to $stubborn - 3]] [["We're not friends." You respond bluntly. Why would he consider you a friend to Sam? (Stubborn +, Honesty +)|Chap2Scene59g][$stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $honesty to $honesty + 3]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam isn't low enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [["Yes, sir." You respond obediently, though you really don't intend to do that. Who's to stop the two of you from having fun? (Honesty -, Stubborn +, Cautious -)|Chap2Scene59f][$stubborn to $stubborn + 3, $honesty to $honesty - 3, $cautious to $cautious - 3]]

You wonder if Sam actually considers you a friend, if he was talking about you to his father. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>>It would certainly make sense, given that the two of you have gotten off to a good start.<<elseif $samRelationship < 54 and $samRelationship > 45>>It wouldn't make much sense, considering you haven't given much indication that you actually //like// the boy, but it remains to be seen on if you actually like or dislike him.<<else>>It doesn't make sense at all, considering how you've been quite unwelcoming to him. Maybe he's an optimist?<</if>> "Thank you, $firstname." He bows his head respectfully. "I suppose I should call him down, now. Prepare yourselves." He says to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia with a mirthful chuckle. [[Next|Chap2Scene60]]

Your heart flutters with the knowledge that he considers you a friend to Sam. Does that mean the boy was ... //talking// about you, to his father? Excitedly, you wonder what exactly he's said. Given how talkative he is, his father probably knew lots about you before he even laid eyes on you. "Thank you, $firstname." He bows his head respectfully. "I suppose I should call him down, now. Prepare yourselves." He says to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia with a mirthful chuckle. [[Next|Chap2Scene60]]

You wonder if Sam actually considers you a friend, if he was talking about you to his father. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>>It would certainly make sense, given that the two of you have gotten off to a good start.<<elseif $samRelationship < 54 and $samRelationship > 45>>It wouldn't make much sense, considering you haven't given much indication that you actually //like// the boy, but it remains to be seen on if you actually like or dislike him.<<else>>It doesn't make sense at all, considering how you've been quite unwelcoming to him. Maybe he's an optimist?<</if>> "So respectful." Willem chuckles. "It's no order, just a request." He bows his head respectfully. "I suppose I should call him down, now. Prepare yourselves." He says to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia with a mirthful chuckle. [[Next|Chap2Scene60]]

He looks confused for a moment. "I meant only that he could benefit from a guide in this unfamiliar place, is all." "Like tellin' him the stuff we tell you, $callenChild." Uncle Callen interjects. "It wouldn't be stoppin' him from havin' fun, more showin' him how to have fun here //safely//, as a friend." "Oh, right." You shrug. "I can try." You wonder if Sam actually considers you a friend, if he was talking about you to his father. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>>It would certainly make sense, given that the two of you have gotten off to a good start.<<elseif $samRelationship < 54 and $samRelationship > 45>>It wouldn't make much sense, considering you haven't given much indication that you actually //like// the boy, but it remains to be seen on if you actually like or dislike him.<<else>>It doesn't make sense at all, considering how you've been quite unwelcoming to him. Maybe he's an optimist?<</if>> "Thank you, $firstname." He bows his head respectfully. "I suppose I should call him down, now. Prepare yourselves." He says to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia with a mirthful chuckle. [[Next|Chap2Scene60]]

You wonder if Sam actually considers you a friend, if he was talking about you to his father. It doesn't make sense at all, considering how you've been quite unwelcoming to him. Maybe he's an optimist? "So respectful." Willem chuckles. "It's no order, just a request." He bows his head respectfully. "I suppose I should call him down, now. Prepare yourselves." He says to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia with a mirthful chuckle. [[Next|Chap2Scene60]]

You wonder if Sam actually considers you a friend, if he was talking about you to his father. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>>It would certainly make sense, given that the two of you have gotten off to a good start.<<elseif $samRelationship < 54 and $samRelationship > 45>>It wouldn't make much sense, considering you haven't given much indication that you actually //like// the boy, but it remains to be seen on if you actually like or dislike him.<<else>>It doesn't make sense at all, considering how you've been quite unwelcoming to him. Maybe he's an optimist?<</if>> "So respectful." Willem chuckles. "It's no order, just a request." He bows his head respectfully. "I suppose I should call him down, now. Prepare yourselves." He says to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia with a mirthful chuckle. The two of them look at you dubiously. [[Next|Chap2Scene60]]

Willem strides over to the stairs, so similar to yours but newer-looking, with a freshly-polished banister and new wood. He calls out in a deep bellow that carries up and around the building, though it doesn't echo much due to the sheer volume of commodities that fill the room. "Samuel! Guests are here, come on down!" There's a moment of silence where he looks back at your trio with a look of anticipation, a slight knowing smile. His eyes flick upwards, to the floor above, when there's a scrambling sound and a soft crash accompanied by a surprised, muffled yell. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>>You look on in concern. Did he just hurt himself?<<else>>You look on in confusion. Did he just hurt himself?<</if>> What comes next is a very rapid thumping of feet on wood before a messy head of golden curls peeks through the stairs' railing. "Oh!" Sam exclaims, bounding further down the stairs before landing squarely next to his father,<<if $samRelationship >= 55>> an excited grin shone<<else>>a hesitant smile sent<</if>> your way. "You're all here!" He cheers, looking excitedly between you and your two mentors. In particular, he's staring wide-eyed at <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia, who returns his awe-filled gaze with a perplexed look of her own.<<else>>Uncle Callen, who smiles warmly at his awe-filled gaze.<</if>> He's dressed more lightly than in the forest, and more cleanly, wearing a blue-and-green sleeveless tunic atop a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves. His hair might have been brushed as neatly as possible before but now it bounces freely around his head, wild as it had been when you first encountered him. He tugs on his father's sleeve, and the man stoops as Sam whispers something into his ear. Whatever the request was, Willem smirks and nods to him, patting his shoulder encouragingly. [[Next|Chap2Scene61]]

Willem looks taken aback for a moment, but his only response is, "I see." You wonder if Sam actively considers you a friend, if he was talking about you to his father. It doesn't make sense at all, considering how you've been quite unwelcoming to him. Maybe he's an optimist? "It'd be appreciated anyway, $firstname." Aunt Sonia mutters from where she is. "Things can change, and you're sure to be seeing Sam around, regardless of how you feel about him." <<if $volatile >= 55>>You huff. "Fine."<<else>>You sigh resignedly. "Okay."<</if>> "Thank you, $firstname." He bows his head respectfully. "I suppose I should call him down, now. Prepare yourselves." He says to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia with a mirthful chuckle. [[Next|Chap2Scene60]]

<<set $samCh2Hug == "no">><<set $samCh2Mad == "no">><<if $mentor == "Callen">>He hops over to stand before Aunt Sonia, whose eyes narrow in concern at the boy now suddenly planted right in front of her. "Hiya, miss! My name's Sam! Are you really a Weaver?" He babbles excitedly, sticking a skinny arm up at her, clearly intending to shake her hand. She looks quickly to Uncle Callen for a moment, who chuckles to himself and makes a 'go on' gesture. She gingerly takes his hand, shaking it up and down much to the boy's glee. "My name's Sonia," she offers, "and yes, I'm a Master at the Order." She says, smugness creeping in to her tone--not without reason. She was one of the youngest women in recent memory to attain the rank, as she likes to remind. <<if $samKnowsBW == "yes">>"Both of you?!" Sam gapes, looking so quickly between Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia that you fear his head might pop off like a cork. Of course, he already knew about you, since you told him earlier. He gives you a knowing smirk.<<else>>"What?!" Sam gapes, looking so quickly between the three of you that you fear his head might pop off like a cork. Well, there goes your attempt at hiding that fact from him. "$theyF didn't tell me that!" He exclaims, giving you a strange look.<</if>> Then, he narrows his eyes, letting go of the handshake to peek around her. "Where's your sword?" "Wasn't allowed it." She says morosely. "Besides, I trust your dad over there to keep us safe, he looks the strong sort." She adds with a wink. "He's //not//." Sam snickers, then turns to Uncle Callen. "Hello again!" He chirps, waving to him but not offering much more of a greeting than that. "Good evenin', wee fella." He smiles and nods at him.<<else>>He hops over to stand before Uncle Callen, who smiles down warmly at him. Sam may consider himself tall, but he's nowhere near as huge as Uncle Callen. "Hiya, sir! I'm Sam! Are you really a Weaver?" He babbles excitedly, sticking a skinny arm up at him, clearly intending to shake his hand. Uncle Callen chuckles warmly, stooping slightly to give a rough handshake to Sam who giggles as he's jostled around by it. "Well met, wee fella! I am indeed, though ye needn't use any Weaver terms for me. Y'can call me Callen, or Cal!" He says through a cheery grin that matches Sam's own. "Cal's a Master just like me." Aunt Sonia interjects. "And $firstname's going into the Academy in just a couple of years, too." <<if $samKnowsBW == "yes">>"Both of you?!" Sam gapes, looking so quickly between Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia that you fear his head might pop off like a cork. Of course, he already knew about you, since you told him earlier. He gives you a knowing smirk.<<else>>"What?!" Sam gapes, looking so quickly between the three of you that you fear his head might pop off like a cork. Well, there goes your attempt at hiding that fact from him. "$theyF didn't tell me that!" He exclaims, giving you a strange look.<</if>> Then, he narrows his eyes, letting go of the handshake to peek around him. "Where's your axe thing?" "I don't take it 'round with me," he chuckles, "it's much too big to be luggin' it about." "Oh." Sam looks slightly disappointed, but perks right up. "I'll see it some other time!" Uncle Callen smirks. "I'm sure." Sam snickers, then turns to Aunt Sonia. "Hello again!" He chirps, waving to her but not offering much more of a greeting than that.<</if>> His other greetings out of the way, Sam turns quickly to you, <<if $samRelationship >= 55>>grinning openly in a face-splitting smile. "$firstname!"<<elseif $samRelationship <= 54 and $samRelationship >= 45>>smiling openly. "Hiya again, $firstname!"<<elseif $samRelationship <= 44>>wearing a pensive smile. "Hello again.."<</if>> <<if $samRelationship >= 55>><<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞+🔥 Before you can think, you're opening your arms for a hug. "I missed you!" You squeak.|Chap2Scene62aRom][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 4, $samCh2Hug to "yesR", $samCh2Mad to "no"]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [[🌞+You open your arms for a hug. "I missed you!" You cheer.|Chap2Scene62a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 4, $samCh2Hug to "yes", $samCh2Mad to "no"]] [[🌞+ You give him a friendly wave. "Hello again!"|Chap2Scene62b][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞+🔥 All of a sudden you're feeling quite shy. "Hello..." You mutter.|Chap2Scene62cRom][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [[🌞+ "Hello..." You mutter shyly.|Chap2Scene62c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]] [[🌞+ "You have a lovely house, good sir." You joke with him. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene62d][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]] [[You give a short wave, still somewhat miffed at him for earlier today.|Chap2Scene62f][$samCh2Mad to "yes"]] [[🌞= "Hi." You say, bluntly. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene62e][$cold to $cold + 3]]<<elseif $samRelationship <= 54 and $samRelationship >= 45>>[[🌞+ You give him a friendly wave, deciding to be kinder to him this time. "Hello again!"|Chap2Scene62b][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞+🔥 All of a sudden you're feeling quite shy. "Hello..." You mutter.|Chap2Scene62cRom][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [[You give a short wave, still somewhat miffed at him for earlier today.|Chap2Scene62f][$samCh2Mad to "yes"]] <<if $ch2BlameSam1 == "yes" or $ch2BlameSam1 == "yesA" or $ch2BlameSam1 == "yesB">>[[🌞- You scowl openly at him, brazenly showing your anger for earlier.|Chap2Scene62g][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $samCh2Mad to "yes"]]<<else>>//Choice not available.//<</if>><<else>>[[🌞+ Perhaps you'll try to get on better with him, and that starts now. You give him a friendly wave. "Hello again!"|Chap2Scene62h][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞+🔥 Something deep inside tells you to be kind, today. You give him a friendly wave. "Hello again!"|Chap2Scene62i][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [[🌞+ You want to attempt friendliness, but can't muster the courage to address him directly. "Hello..." You mutter shyly.|Chap2Scene62j][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 3, $samCh2Mad to "no"]] [[🌞= "Hi." You say, bluntly. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene62e][$cold to $cold + 3]] [[You give a short wave, still somewhat miffed at him for earlier today.|Chap2Scene62k][$samCh2Mad to "yes"]] <<if $ch2BlameSam1 == "yes" or $ch2BlameSam1 == "yesA" or $ch2BlameSam1 == "yesB">>[[🌞- You scowl openly at him, brazenly showing your anger for earlier.|Chap2Scene62l][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 3, $samCh2Mad to "yes"]]<<else>>//Choice not available.//<</if>><</if>>

<<if $ch2SamBlame == "yes" or $ch2SamBlame == "yesA" or $ch2SamBlame == "yesB">>You might blame him for what happened earlier in the day, but that's no reason to treat him badly now. "Oh!" Sam's eyes widen at your offer, but not in a bad way.<<else>>"Oh!" Sam's eyes widen at your offer, but not in a bad way.<</if>> He grins and opens his own arms, stepping forward to give you a warm hug. Your arms wrap tight around his skinny back and he hums contentedly, squeezing you back while leaning to rest his cheek against your head slightly. "You too.." His fluffy curls tickle your head somewhat, but you hardly care. "Hadn't realised this was such an urgent reunion!" Uncle Callen laughs, jumping when Aunt Sonia thumps him in the arm with a stern look. Sam giggles sweetly. "It is! I haven't seen $them in //ages!//" He says, pulling back from the hug a little reluctantly, smiling sweetly at you. "You're a good hugger." He whispers so quietly that only you can hear, and just barely at that. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

"Oh!" Sam's eyes widen at your offer, but not in a bad way. He grins and opens his own arms, stepping forward to give you a warm hug. The boy must like hugs, because he squeezes you tight and rocks side-to-side a little. "You too.." "Hadn't realised this was such an urgent reunion!" Uncle Callen laughs. Sam giggles sweetly. "It is! I haven't seen $them in //ages!//" He says, pulling back from the hug, smiling sweetly at you. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

The boy laughs openly at your joke, but clarifies, "It's not mine! It's //his//!" while pointing at his father, who shrugs good-naturedly. "I consider us both the owner, son." "He gonna be paying his share of the tax, then?" Aunt Sonia asks flatly, chewing her lip to stop a smirk forming. Sam gasps and looks up at his father, aghast. "I don't have money!" All five of you share a laugh at his response, and Willem waits until it's died down to speak. "Well, a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Your blunt greeting makes Sam giggle. "Hiiii!" He exclaims, drawing out the 'i' sound while standing on his the tips of his toes. When he comes back down, he's still chuckling amusedly. "We've gotta take y'out more, $callenChild..." Uncle Callen half-laughs exasperatedly. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam giggles sweetly at your shy greeting. "How's things been?" He says, dropping his own voice to a quiet whisper to match your own. You purse your lips and scuff your shoe on the floor. It's hard to even make eye contact with the boy, and you just //know// he's looking at you with that same smile in his eyes he's worn practically the entire time. He doesn't mock you, but instead shifts how he acts to match what he sees you doing. It's so ... //nice//. Why are you feeling like this around him?! "Good." You manage to squeak, looking at him for a second before averting your eyes again. That just makes the boy snicker again. "You're funny, $firstname." "Aye, very funny." Uncle Callen interjects with a low chuckle, smiling down at you while sharing a glance with Aunt Sonia. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam giggles at your shy greeting. "How's things been?" He says, dropping his own voice to a quiet whisper to match your own. You scuff your shoe on the floor. He doesn't mock your shy greeting, but instead shifts how he acts to match what he sees you doing. You can imagine why he must have had so many friends in his old home. "Good." You respond quietly, offering a soft smile when you look at him. He might be trying to match you, but isn't able to mask his own, much wider grin. "Same for me!" He cheers. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

He gives you a wave of his own right back. "What've you been doin'?" He asks almost immediately, blue eyes shining with interest.<<if $samRomance == 1>> He's so kind...<<else>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Cooking." You respond simply. He needn't know it was technically a punishment for what he'd convinced you to do earlier. "Really?" He looks quite disbelieving, for some reason. "That must be nice," he leans closer to you to whisper, "pa doesn't let me cook on my own." That would explain it. He snickers. From behind him, his father apparently heard that. "Yes, for good reason." He says with a flat chuckle. "I know the feeling," Aunt Sonia joins in, "it took years for me to feel safe letting Callen cook." "I could cook before, lass!" He says indignantly. "Of course you could." She coos.<<else>>"Sharpening knives." You respond simply. He needn't know it was technically a punishment for what he'd convinced you to do earlier. "Really?!" He looks taken aback and curious at the same time. "You've got knives? Ca--" "They're //my// knives, and no." Aunt Sonia interjects bluntly. Sam deflates slightly, but doesn't push the issue further.<</if>> "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

"Miss him?" Aunt Sonia questions, looking scrutinously at you. You shrug your shoulders limply. "I dunno.." "You will one day." She says, all-knowingly as she usually does. "I'd miss him, when it was just him going out to do the important stuff." She chuckles, remembering something. "I'd complain that I had nothing to do. He told me to get a pet, but now I've got you!" She jokes. "I'm not a pet!" You protest, and she flicks your ear. "You're right, kid. A pet'd be cheaper and cleaner." She sighs, winking at you. Unfortunately, Sola is not connected to the mainland below by any Channel, as it requires a physical cable to transmit the messages, which are written down and recorded at one contraption--known as a 'terminal'--then read by a round piece of glass called a lens above the paper and magically drawn through the cables to their requested destination--stamped with a rune unique to its specific destination terminal. You're not quite sure how it all works, only that it does. Powered, of course, by Risen magic. Channels on the surface can go for miles and miles, the magically-woven cables spanning leagues across the land of the continent as they go in-between towns and cities. That involves the cables being supported every so often, which is impossible in the sky, of course. Thus, other methods such as the message being carried by someone like a courier in a Skylift or even by a bird, sent up into the city to a special post office is necessary to receive surface messages in a Risen City. "Are there any other messages?" You wonder aloud, trying to peek behind her to see if there's any other paper that's been printed on. "Not to my knowledge, $firstname." She answers simply, for some reason going to put her boots on. Upon noticing your confusion, she elaborates: "We're going to the butcher's, your Uncle Callen wants some of his favourite fish for when he's back, so we'll go and pick it up now. Bonus is, I can pick something up myself!" She licks her lips at that, a hungry expression in her eyes. The butcher's shop that Aunt Sonia likes is pretty far, taking you past the park and forest. Wait, the //forest//? This... could be your opportunity to go there, follow the voice you heard earlier. [[Speaking of, you'll take this chance to ask her if the voice you heard might've been hers, as well as ask if you could go there on the way to the butcher's. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene15SonAsk][$stubborn to $stubborn + 2]] [[You're having doubts that the voice was hers, which intrigues you. You'll see if you could go there on the way to the butcher's.|Chap2Scene15Son]]

"Miss him?" Aunt Sonia questions, smilnig softly. You nod softly. "I'm glad he's alright." "Me too, kid." She breathes. "When it was just him going out to do the important stuff, I'd complain that I had nothing to do. He told me to get a pet, but now I've got you!" She jokes. "I'm not a pet!" You protest, and she flicks your ear. "You're right, kid. A pet'd be cheaper and cleaner." She sighs, winking at you. Unfortunately, Sola is not connected to the mainland below by any Channel, as it requires a physical cable to transmit the messages, which are written down and recorded at one contraption--known as a 'terminal'--then read by a round piece of glass called a lens above the paper and magically drawn through the cables to their requested destination--stamped with a rune unique to its specific destination terminal. You're not quite sure how it all works, only that it does. Powered, of course, by Risen magic. Channels on the surface can go for miles and miles, the magically-woven cables spanning leagues across the land of the continent as they go in-between towns and cities. That involves the cables being supported every so often, which is impossible in the sky, of course. Thus, other methods such as the message being carried by someone like a courier in a Skylift or even by a bird, sent up into the city to a special post office is necessary to receive surface messages in a Risen City. "Are there any other messages?" You wonder aloud, trying to peek behind her to see if there's any other paper that's been printed on. "Not to my knowledge, $firstname." She answers simply, for some reason going to put her boots on. Upon noticing your confusion, she elaborates: "We're going to the butcher's, your Uncle Callen wants some of his favourite fish for when he's back, so we'll go and pick it up now. Bonus is, I can pick something up myself!" She licks her lips at that, a hungry expression in her eyes. The butcher's shop that Aunt Sonia likes is pretty far, taking you past the park and forest. Wait, the //forest//? This... could be your opportunity to go there, follow the voice you heard earlier. [[Speaking of, you'll take this chance to ask her if the voice you heard might've been hers, as well as ask if you could go there on the way to the butcher's. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene15SonAsk][$stubborn to $stubborn + 2]] [[You're having doubts that the voice was hers, which intrigues you. You'll see if you could go there on the way to the butcher's.|Chap2Scene15Son]]

Aunt Sonia notices your excitement and smiles softly. "You miss him?" You nod fervently. "It's been //so// long!" She pats your shoulder knowingly. "I'd miss him too, when it was just him going out to do the important stuff. He told me to get a pet, but now I've got you!" She jokes. "I'm not a pet!" You protest, and she flicks your ear. "You're right, kid. A pet'd be cheaper and cleaner." She sighs, winking at you. Unfortunately, Sola is not connected to the mainland below by any Channel, as it requires a physical cable to transmit the messages, which are written down and recorded at one contraption--known as a 'terminal'--then read by a round piece of glass called a lens above the paper and magically drawn through the cables to their requested destination--stamped with a rune unique to its specific destination terminal. You're not quite sure how it all works, only that it does. Powered, of course, by Risen magic. Channels on the surface can go for miles and miles, the magically-woven cables spanning leagues across the land of the continent as they go in-between towns and cities. That involves the cables being supported every so often, which is impossible in the sky, of course. Thus, other methods such as the message being carried by someone like a courier in a Skylift or even by a bird, sent up into the city to a special post office is necessary to receive surface messages in a Risen City. "Are there any other messages?" You wonder aloud, trying to peek behind her to see if there's any other paper that's been printed on. "Not to my knowledge, $firstname." She answers simply, for some reason going to put her boots on. Upon noticing your confusion, she elaborates: "We're going to the butcher's, your Uncle Callen wants some of his favourite fish for when he's back, so we'll go and pick it up now. Bonus is, I can pick something up myself!" She licks her lips at that, a hungry expression in her eyes. The butcher's shop that Aunt Sonia likes is pretty far, taking you past the park and forest. Wait, the //forest//? This... could be your opportunity to go there, follow the voice you heard earlier. [[Speaking of, you'll take this chance to ask her if the voice you heard might've been hers, as well as ask if you could go there on the way to the butcher's. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene15SonAsk][$stubborn to $stubborn + 2]] [[You're having doubts that the voice was hers, which intrigues you. You'll see if you could go there on the way to the butcher's.|Chap2Scene15Son]]

Unfortunately, Sola is not connected to the mainland below by any Channel, as it requires a physical cable to transmit the messages, which are written down and recorded at one contraption--known as a 'terminal' - then read by a round piece of glass called a lens above the paper and magically drawn through the cables to their requested destination--stamped with a rune unique to its specific destination terminal. You're not quite sure how it all works, only that it does, powered, of course, by Risen magic. Channels on the surface can go for miles and miles, the magically-woven cables spanning leagues across the land of the continent as they go in-between towns and cities. That involves the cables being supported every so often, which is impossible in the sky, of course. Thus, other methods such as the message being carried by someone like a courier in a Skylift or even by a bird, sent up into the city to a special post office is necessary to receive surface messages in a Risen City. "Are there any other messages?" You wonder aloud, trying to peek behind him to see if there's any other paper that's been printed on. "Don't look like it, $callenChild. Why don't ye get yerself ready, eh? We can go an' get somethin' nice for your Aunt Sonia. Make sure she'll get //me// somethin' nice for when //I'm// away for once." He chuckles, heading to pick up his usual boots. You follow, putting some sturdy outdoor shoes on. The butcher's shop that Aunt Sonia likes is pretty far, taking you past the park and forest. Wait, the //forest//? This... could be your opportunity to go there, follow the voice you heard earlier. [[Speaking of, you'll take this chance to ask him if the voice you heard truly was his, as well as ask if you could go there on the way to the butcher's. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene15CalAsk][$stubborn to $stubborn + 2]] [[You're having doubts that the voice was his, which intrigues you. You'll see if you could go there on the way to the butcher's.|Chap2Scene15Cal]]

Unfortunately, Sola is not connected to the mainland below by any Channel, as it requires a physical cable to transmit the messages, which are written down and recorded at one contraption--known as a 'terminal'--then read by a round piece of glass called a lens above the paper and magically drawn through the cables to their requested destination--stamped with a rune unique to its specific destination terminal. You're not quite sure how it all works, only that it does, powered, of course, by Risen magic. Channels on the surface can go for miles and miles, the magically-woven cables spanning leagues across the land of the continent as they go in-between towns and cities. That involves the cables being supported every so often, which is impossible in the sky, of course. Thus, other methods such as the message being carried by someone like a courier in a Skylift or even by a bird, sent up into the city to a special post office is necessary to receive surface messages in a Risen City. "Are there any other messages?" You wonder aloud, trying to peek behind him to see if there's any other paper that's been printed on. "Don't look like it, $callenChild. Why don't ye get yerself ready, eh? We can go an' get somethin' nice for your Aunt Sonia. Make sure she'll get //me// somethin' nice for when //I'm// away for once." He chuckles, heading to pick up his usual boots. You follow, putting some sturdy outdoor shoes on. The butcher's shop that Aunt Sonia likes is pretty far, taking you past the park and forest. Wait, the //forest//? This... could be your opportunity to go there, follow the voice you heard earlier. [[Speaking of, you'll take this chance to ask him if the voice you heard truly was his, as well as ask if you could go there on the way to the butcher's. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene15CalAsk][$stubborn to $stubborn + 2]] [[You're having doubts that the voice was his, which intrigues you. You'll see if you could go there on the way to the butcher's.|Chap2Scene15Cal]]

Just as you're about to move, one of your bags slips and falls from the mule, clattering to the floor as its contents spill out. You whip around in the saddle at the sound, and the boy scrambles to help pick it up. "Thank you." You mutter as he secures it to the saddle properly, but you see some hesitation in his eyes--confusion, seeking a quick answer. "What's this..?" He asks, opening his palm to reveal a shiny, blue-green metal pin. Fashioned as a shield emblazoned with an icon depicting a long blade, wreathed in a pair of feathered wings. It glints against the high-up torchlight above. Your throat constricts, and you shift uncomfortably in the saddle. [["Give it back, now!" You growl.|NewPrologueScene8a]] [[You calm yourself. "It's nothing, please hand it to me."|NewPrologueScene8b]]

He flinches, but complies, handing the thing back to you quickly. You grip it tightly in your free hand. "Are you ... a Weaver? I know they got badges like that, the strong ones." He mutters, unsure of how to act upon witnessing your reaction. //Were they strong, when the time came?// "...No." You respond after a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek. "I haven't been for a long time." //The stadium falls in a blasted heap around you as blood-red spreads through the sky. Four silhouettes descend, backlit by a dead sun. You may lose yourself, today.// "Then ... why do you have a badge?" [["I stole it." You wink.|NewPrologueScene8a1]] [[You blink. "None of your business, kid."|NewPrologueScene8a2]] [["It was ... a gift." You say, after a moment's hesitation.|NewPrologueScene8a3]]

He complies, handing the thing back to you quickly. You grip it tightly in your free hand. "Are you ... a Weaver? I know they got badges like that, the strong ones." He mutters, unsure of how to act upon witnessing your reaction. //Were they strong, when the time came?// "...No." You respond after a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek. "I haven't been for a long time." //The stadium falls in a blasted heap around you as blood-red spreads through the sky. Four silhouettes descend, backlit by a dead sun. You may lose yourself, today.// "Then ... why do you have a badge?" [["I stole it." You wink.|NewPrologueScene8a1]] [[You blink. "None of your business, kid."|NewPrologueScene8a2]] [["It was ... a gift." You say, after a moment's hesitation.|NewPrologueScene8a3]]

The boy snorts, a puff of chilly vapour coming out of his nose like a dragon's haughty breath. "//You// stole it from a Weaver? You kill 'em or something?" Your jaw clenches, with the uncomfortable scrape of teeth on teeth. "Maybe I did." He shakes his head matter-of-factly. "You can't kill Bladeweavers. It's like fightin' ten men at once!" "Think what you want, kid." You huff, shrinking into your cloak as the chill grows. He nods. "Sure. Are you gonna be goin' now? It's sort of cold, and late..." You nod briskly. "The roads are quiet at night, and I can take care of myself." "I bet!" He laughs. "She's been real good, y'know?" The boy chatters as he gives the saddle, and your mule, a quick once-over. "A little stubborn, but that's no big surprise with mules, really." [["Thanks for the help, kid." You grunt, taking off briskly.|NewPrologueScene9a]] [[You hand him a few coins. "For your troubles."|NewPrologueScene9b]] [[You flick a coin towards him. "Here, now leave me be." You smirk.|NewPrologueScene9c]] [[You flick a coin towards him. "Take this and piss off." You mutter, irritated.|NewPrologueScene9d]] [["She's a good girl. Not sure who she learned it from." You shrug.|NewPrologueScene9e]]

He smirks. "Guess not, right? I'll let you keep your secrets then, mystery person." "Much appreciated." You huff, shrinking into your cloak as the chill grows. He nods. "Sure. Are you gonna be goin' now? It's sort of cold, and late..." You nod briskly. "The roads are quiet at night, and I can take care of myself." "I bet!" He laughs. "She's been real good, y'know?" The boy chatters as he gives the saddle, and your mule, a quick once-over. "A little stubborn, but that's no big surprise with mules, really." [["Thanks for the help, kid." You grunt, taking off briskly.|NewPrologueScene9a]] [[You hand him a few coins. "For your troubles."|NewPrologueScene9b]] [[You flick a coin towards him. "Here, now leave me be." You smirk.|NewPrologueScene9c]] [[You flick a coin towards him. "Take this and piss off." You mutter, irritated.|NewPrologueScene9d]] [["She's a good girl. Not sure who she learned it from." You shrug.|NewPrologueScene9e]]

His cobalt eyes widen. "Shit, you know Bladeweavers? Why're you in a place like this, then?" "//Knew//, and I'm here for work, same as anyone else." You huff, shrinking into your cloak as the chill grows. He nods. "Sure. Are you gonna be goin' now? It's sort of cold, and late..." You nod briskly. "The roads are quiet at night, and I can take care of myself." "I bet!" He laughs. "She's been real good, y'know?" The boy chatters as he gives the saddle, and your mule, a quick once-over. "A little stubborn, but that's no big surprise with mules, really." [["Thanks for the help, kid." You grunt, taking off briskly.|NewPrologueScene9a]] [[You hand him a few coins. "For your troubles."|NewPrologueScene9b]] [[You flick a coin towards him. "Here, now leave me be." You smirk.|NewPrologueScene9c]] [[You flick a coin towards him. "Take this and piss off." You mutter, irritated.|NewPrologueScene9d]] [["She's a good girl. Not sure who she learned it from." You shrug.|NewPrologueScene9e]]

Is that what you feel? Is //tiredness// the ache in your limbs, the chill in your fingers that won't go away no matter how close to a fire you bring them? No, you're far, far more than tired, aren't you? You are exhausted. The badge is heavy and cold in your hand, even through your glove. You flip it over and read the name etched into the steel again and again, but it's like following ripples on a puddle's surface. //This was your name, once.// The past six years have been a burden far too heavy for your shoulders to bear alone, yet here you find yourself. Enduring. Subsisting on a courier's paltry pay, wandering in circles like a lost bird. Angar is but another in a series of attempts to find for yourself some lingering purpose--a purpose that has escaped you, again and again, leaving a jagged, empty space deep within. You are residual suffering, stuffed into an unwilling bag of thoughts and broken ideals. The voices, the dreams... They are almost too much to bear. Almost. Something pushes you to keep going, deep within the jumbled mass of your time-addled mind. It wills you to look past the ever-present dread of your true nature; A forlorn epitaph, an echo of something that cannot let go. It grips with what strength remains to it, crushing all of what you are and were. You weren't always this way, you simply //can't// have been, but your half-remembered past seems to slip further from your grasp with each passing week. There were people in your life, those with names worth remembering. You had safety, security, sanctuary. All reduced to a set of battered armour and a host of memories you cannot help but cling to, despite the torment they bring. Nobody is built to walk this solitary path, but what other choice remains, knowing what you know, feeling what you feel? More importantly... [[How did you get here?|PrologueScene0]]

Sam doesn't seem to understand the meaning behind your muted greeting, nor does he question it further. He instead opts to just smile softly at you, looking to his father in anticipation. You'll have to tell him later, and you're sure he'll ask. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam looks taken aback, confusion and shock washing over his face all at once. You can't exactly tell him why you're angry now, but you're certain there'll be time to do so later. "Well," Willem speaks up, a look of confused concern in his brown eyes, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam looks somewhat surprised at your friendly greeting, but he obviously isn't one to reject an extended hand. He gives you a wave of his own right back. "What've you been doin'?" He asks almost immediately, blue eyes shining with interest.<<if $samRomance == 1>> He's so kind...<<else>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Cooking." You respond simply. He needn't know it was technically a punishment for what he'd convinced you to do earlier. "Really?" He looks quite disbelieving, for some reason. "That must be nice," he leans closer to you to whisper, "pa doesn't let me cook on my own." That would explain it. He snickers. From behind him, his father apparently heard that. "Yes, for good reason." He says with a flat chuckle. "I know the feeling," Aunt Sonia joins in, "it took years for me to feel safe letting Callen cook." "I could cook before, lass!" He says indignantly. "Of course you could." She coos.<<else>>"Sharpening knives." You respond simply. He needn't know it was technically a punishment for what he'd convinced you to do earlier. "Really?!" He looks taken aback and curious at the same time. "You've got knives? Ca--" "They're //my// knives, and no." Aunt Sonia interjects bluntly. Sam deflates slightly, but doesn't push the issue further.<</if>> "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam looks somewhat surprised at your friendly greeting, but he obviously isn't one to reject an extended hand. You're thankful--that he's open to still being friendly, and that you haven't blown your chance at being closer to him. He gives you a wave of his own right back. "What've you been doin'?" He asks almost immediately, blue eyes shining with interest.<<if $samRomance == 1>> He's so kind...<<else>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Cooking." You respond simply. He needn't know it was technically a punishment for what he'd convinced you to do earlier. "Really?" He looks quite disbelieving, for some reason. "That must be nice," he leans closer to you to whisper, "pa doesn't let me cook on my own." That would explain it. He snickers. From behind him, his father apparently heard that. "Yes, for good reason." He says with a flat chuckle. "I know the feeling," Aunt Sonia joins in, "it took years for me to feel safe letting Callen cook." "I could cook before, lass!" He says indignantly. "Of course you could." She coos.<<else>>"Sharpening knives." You respond simply. He needn't know it was technically a punishment for what he'd convinced you to do earlier. "Really?!" He looks taken aback and curious at the same time. "You've got knives? Ca--" "They're //my// knives, and no." Aunt Sonia interjects bluntly. Sam deflates slightly, but doesn't push the issue further.<</if>> "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

You can't see him, but you can tell he must be confused at your hesitance, rather than outright dismissal or unkindness. He giggles at your shy greeting. "How's things been?" He says, dropping his own voice to a quiet whisper to match your own. You scuff your shoe on the floor. He doesn't mock your shy greeting, but instead shifts how he acts to match what he sees you doing. You can imagine why he must have had so many friends in his old home, but that just makes you wonder why he simply isn't clicking with you? "Good." You respond quietly, offering a soft smile when you look at him. He might be trying to match you, but isn't able to mask his own, much wider grin. "Same for me!" He cheers. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam doesn't seem to understand the meaning behind your muted greeting, nor does he question it further. Considering how your relationship has been so far, it's no surprise that he doesn't react much to it. He just chews his lip a little, looking around the room idly. "Well," Willem speaks up, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam's eyes flit to the ground, unwilling to face your apparent fury. It's not a reaction you were unprepared for, given that the two of you aren't exactly on the best terms. You can't exactly tell him why you're angry now, but you're certain there'll be time to do so later. "Well," Willem speaks up, a look of confused concern in his brown eyes, "a table is prepared in the room upstairs, if everyone would like to accompany me?" [[Next|Chap2Scene63]]

Sam is first to ascend the stairs, bounding up two steps at a time even as his father suggests he slow down. The man turns slightly, giving the three of you a baleful glance of mock-exasperation. He's quick to fire off a question as soon as the rest of you reach the first floor. "Can I show $firstname my room?" Willem holds up a finger. "First, we eat, yes?" Sam takes a moment, but startles in realization. "Oh--right." He grins. This section of the house is far more similar to your own, only newer-looking. The floor is lined with carpets featuring bright geometric designs and plenty of lion imagery--it must be the animal represented on the Abrian Empire's blue-green flag, the Iron Lion, named for the nation's impressive iron mines and military prowess. The room you find yourself in is used as a storage room in your own house, but has been lavishly furnished--partially, some crates still remain--as a living space. A thick, plush rug of dark red and violet lines the floor. Wood panelling, not as ornate as downstairs, makes up the bulk of the walls, from which a set of enchanted lightstone lanterns hang, far safer than torches indoors. Waning sunlight streams in through a pair of half-curtained windows, lending the entire room a cosy feel, though you've only been here for mere moments. It's at a large table, situated in the near-centre of this quaint room, that you are now sat. At your side is Sam, making your side of the table a sort of 'children's area', a jibe that earned Aunt Sonia a <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>snort and giggle<<else>>snort and a glare<</if>> from you. She and Uncle Callen are sat opposite, with <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>her closer to Willem<<else>>him closer to Willem<</if>>, who sits at the table's head. "It's a lovely place, Willem." Uncle Callen compliments, looking around approvingly. "I never saw this part when visitin' old Henri, but I reckon it wasn't done up like this, eh?" The brown-haired man shakes his head with a hum. "I had not seen it before arriving, but managed to relay my desires for how it should look via Channel. I was even able to look at pictures of the place, captured with a metal eye, thousands of miles away!" "What'd we do without our Risen friends, huh?" Aunt Sonia murmurs, rolling her eyes discreetly. [[Next|Chap2Scene64]]

Not discreetly enough, apparently, as Willem takes notice. "You are unfond of Risen mages?" "Oh, not at all." She leans back in her chair. "I know plenty, and they've likely saved my life more times than I can count but," she sighs, "some of them can be right c--//unsavoury// figures." Willem's smile is tilted, encouraging. He may not look much like his son, but he's almost as personable. "A bad experience, then?" "A //family friend//, as Mister Sunshine here likes to call them." She nods towards Uncle Callen, who takes the nickname with an accepting shrug. "We've been close with a Risen archmage for a good few years now, and they're, well, an acquired taste." She finishes blithely. Her and Archer's relationship is a strange one, you've seen them act mean to one another more times than you could possibly count, but they still make time to correspond and, of course, Archer does still occasionally take care of you. Their squabbling and fighting is more of a friendly rivalry then, though perhaps it's more like they're friends who are also bitter enemies. It's still confusing. <<if $samTower == "yes">>Sam smiles knowingly to himself. Of course, you already told him about Archer in a way, when you let him in on your shared secret with the sleekly-dressed archmage.<<else>>Sam looks a little wide-eyed. Meeting two Bladeweavers was one thing, but realizing you know an //archmage// must be another to the boy. <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>You're not sure if Archer would exactly get on with a boy as bubbly as him, but you //are// sure it'd be fun to watch.<<else>>You're not sure what the fuss is about. Archer is Archer, and that means they're the //worst//. Aunt Sonia has the right idea. "They're not that great..." You whisper to him.<</if>><</if>> "Archer Ryburn," Uncle Callen clarifies, "ye'll be seein' 'em around if ye're gonna be in the market for Risen contraptions an' the like. Pale, dark hair, fan o' purple and makin' people angry." He lists off each point on the fingers of his ungloved hand. Willem laughs at his last point, nodding. "I will certainly keep an eye out!" Sam pipes up, "Would they do a magic trick for me?" The expectant look plastered on his round face isn't hard to miss. "Definitely." Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen speak at the same time, one voice full of experienced irritation and the other carrying a laugh. [[Next|Chap2Scene65]]

When the conversation wanes, everybody's attention turns to the assortment of food laid out before you. "I hope Abrian cuisine is not too unfamiliar," Willem says sheepishly, "I must confess my relatively //low// culinary skill." "It's no issue, believe us." Uncle Callen laughs, "There's all sorts t'be eaten up here, an' we lived in Abria for a good few years before comin' here." "Well, it //looks// good." Aunt Sonia offers, eyeing a glistening dish of what looks like a lamb stew, full of all sorts. "We'll see if it tastes that way too, eh?" She nods at Willem, who smiles warmly. "Allow me to recite the Scripts, first." Both her and Uncle Callen look slightly taken aback--reciting the Scripts is something really only done by priests of the Empyrean church before important events, like somebody's Ascension or a wedding. Worship of the Twelve must be more routine and widespread in the Abrian Empire. Willem closes his eyes, bows his head and clasps his fingers together so they touch, but his palms do not, and begins to murmur. At your side Sam does the same but doesn't say anything. He opens one small eye, and though you can't see his mouth you can tell he's grinning. "I don't know the words!" He speaks in a hushed whisper, and gets right back to it. Willem speaks so quietly that he's barely audible, and you're only able to catch some of what he says. "//Reserved Gelor... ... Kind Anmor... ... Radiant Sola... ... Tranquil Noctome... ... Righteous Belrom... ... May ye return, benign and benevolent...//" <<link "<q>On the Ascendant's advent.</q>">> <<goto Chap2Scene66>> <</link>>

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">><<set $mentorTermChild to "Aunt Sonia">><<else>><<set $mentorTermChild to "Uncle Callen">><</if>>A dark chill licks its way down your spine, and your knee bumps the table in surprise as you jolt from the unpleasant sensation. //<div id="invader-text">Ascendant...</div>// Again, that same voice! "Y'alright, $callenChild?" Uncle Callen's head is slightly bowed to peer at you, making sure you're fine. Your mind practically burns with the urge to yell, to shout about what you're experiencing, but you //can't//. Something is barring you from speaking a word of any of it. "I'm okay..." You mutter, defeated, "I just felt cold." "That means someone's just walked on your grave, y'know!" Sam babbles, nodding seriously at you when your face scrunches in confusion. //<div id="invader-text">No grave. No body. Yours--''ours''.</div>// "Samuel..." His father sighs, hands still clasped. "Huh?" The boy turns to look at his father, innocently. A silent look, shared between the two, seems to communicate something to him, and he chews his lip before turning back to you. "Sorry..." You can only nod, still reeling from hearing that voice again. "Can we..?" Aunt Sonia hesitates, though she's already clutching a fork in one hand and balancing a wide metal plate in another. Willem laughs quietly, having been distracted by his son, "Oh--of course, help yourselves!" [[The table erupts into relative chaos.|Chap2Scene67]]

ignored knockOut killedRun killedWall killedKind killedDetach killedKnife killedSilent runAwayKnockout runAwayThreaten runAwayKill runAwayKnockoutB - You extorted the young woman for a brooch, giving you more money in Chapter 7, and knocked out the man. runAwayThreatenB - You extorted the young woman for a brooch, giving you more money in Chapter 7, and threatened the man into leaving. runAwayKillB - You extorted the young woman for a brooch, giving you more money in Chapter 7, and killed the man. Archived code for if I need to do the prologue choice option check: <<if $currentChapter >= 1>><<if $prologueGirl isnot "ignored" and $prologueGirl and "knockOut" and $prologueGirl isnot "killedRun" and $prologueGirl isnot "killedWall" or $prologueGirl and "killedKind" and $prologueGirl isnot "killedDetach" and $prologueGirl isnot "killedSilent" and $prologueGirl isnot "runAwayKnockout" and $prologueGirl isnot "runAwayThreaten" and $prologueGirl isnot "runAwayKill" and $prologueGirl isnot "runAwayKnockoutB" and $prologueGirl isnot "runAwayThreatenB" and $prologueGirl isnot "runAwayKillB">>''//PLEASE RESTART YOUR GAME FROM THE BEGINNING AND PLAY THE NEW PROLOGUE! IT IS REQUIRED FOR LATER ON IN THE GAME!//''<</if>><</if>> Not using because I can just inform people of the need to restart.

Thankfully it seems to calm down quickly once Aunt Sonia's filled her plate, allowing the rest of you to grab your own food. "The lamb's good," Sam informs you quite officiantly, spooning a great amount of the stew into his own bowl, "but the fish is..." He makes a disgusted face and sticks his tongue out to show his displeasure. "Somethin's wrong with the fish?" Uncle Callen asks cautiously, looking to Sam, the aforementioned fish on his plate and then to Sam's father "Samuel finds himself at odds with heat in his food, and I like to add some to the fish I make, when possible." Willem says matter-of-factly, not quite able to hide the mischievous lilt in his tone and his amused squint. "He makes stuff spicy so //I// won't eat it!" Sam reveals uproariously, the secret having been kept too long for his tastes. "He just wants the fish all to himself!" "Didn't work this time," Aunt Sonia chuckles quietly, "Cal likes fish, if you couldn't tell." She points a thumb at Callen's plate, which naturally consists mostly of fish. "I'd say it's 'cause he was raised near the ocean, but he couldn't swim til' he was fourteen, so he's just a bit of a freak." "Since when were we swappin' personal tales with the man, lass? I told ye that in confidence, I'm sure!" "And I'm telling //him// in confidence." She blinks innocently. Uncle Callen's head tilts, a devious plan brewing in those stony grey eyes. "It's like that then, eh? Shall I tell 'im about the time ye were guardin' that noble girl, an--" "No!" Her hand hits the table a little too loud, jostling the plates closest to her and causing quite a racket. Sam seems tickled by the entire thing, moving around in his chair while wracked with giggles, simply unable to stay still. [[You're laughing too. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene68][$cold to $cold - 3]] [[You're staring at them, aghast. Don't they know how to behave? (Cold +)|Chap2Scene68b][$cold to $cold + 3]]

The sound of Uncle Callen and Willem's laughter joins yours and Sam's, as Aunt Sonia sinks into her cushy outfit, perhaps wishing she could simply disappear under the table. "If you're //finished//, can we get to eating now?" She grumbles. "Please, do dig in." Willem says as his laughter dies down. "You have certainly earned it!" [[There's little on display that you're particularly interested in, but you manage to find a few things that you like.|Chap2Scene69a]] [[You take a helping of everything you see.|Chap2Scene69b]]

The sound of Uncle Callen and Willem's laughter joins Sam's, as Aunt Sonia sinks into her cushy outfit, perhaps wishing she could simply disappear under the table. Your discontent only grows, amongst a growing sense of secondhand embarrassment at their boisterous behaviour. "If you're //finished//, can we get to eating now?" Aunt Sonia grumbles. She's got the right idea! "Please, do dig in." Willem says as his laughter dies down. "You have certainly earned it!" [[There's little on display that you're particularly interested in, but you manage to find a few things that you like.|Chap2Scene69a]] [[You take a helping of everything you see.|Chap2Scene69b]]

"I don't like some of it, either.." Sam whispers while pointing to his own plate, bereft of much variety. You dig in, and are pleasantly surprised by just how good it tastes! Abrian food isn't something unfamiliar to you--Sola is a sort of melting pot for different cultures, with all kinds of food and recipes on sale in various shops, so you've been able to find a selection of dishes you're amicable towards the idea of eating. It helps that Aunt Sonia's so interested in cooking: she's able to find something that you like most of the time. "//Mm--//this's good!" She praises, in-between happy munches. "You'll have to show me some of these recipes." Uncle Callen hums his agreement, not quite as willing to speak with his mouth full as she is. "I cannot say I did it alone; I had quite an eager helper." Willem nods towards Sam, who blushes at the praise, greedily feasting on his own meal. "Only a helper, of course. Not alone, after the last few times..." Light conversation is made for the next while--Uncle Callen gives the two some advice to stock up on warmer clothing for Autumn and Winter, Sam shows off a morbid trick with his eyelids that makes Aunt Sonia turn away in horror, making the boy guffaw. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>It's Uncle Callen that pops one of the questions you've been wondering yourself. "So, why the move, if ye don't mind me askin'? Sola's a long way away from anything Abrian." He speaks calmly, smoothly. There's no accusation in his voice, only a genuine curiosity. Willem looks into his plate for a moment, and hums gently. "Sola promises opportunity, and there was little more of that to be found in our home town, Bivia. I found myself travelling increasingly far, for longer and longer, such that I would miss precious time with my family." He gazes fondly at Sam, who responds with a slightly shaky smile, playing with his food. "Eventually I found myself unable to leave home and then, much later, I made this choice." He gestures vaguely around him, to the city, apparently. "Wouldn't Pacen or Florre be better choices for Risen Cities, though? They're both in Abria, and a good sight closer than this place." Aunt Sonia reasons. "Ah, but neither are quite as prominent as Sola!" Willem laughs, "I may have been subject to a small amount of Telfrini propaganda, but I must admit this place has bewitched me, somewhat. It does help that many of my countrymen are to be found here, but without the ... //oversight//, of the Abrian Senate."<<else>>It's Aunt Sonia that pops one of the questions you've been wondering yourself. "You'll forgive my question if it's unwelcome, Willem, but I've been wondering what made you choose Sola of all places. It's hardly the closest place to Abria." Her question is blunt, her tone more so. Uncle Callen sighs quietly at her side. Even at the best of times she's not exactly ... subtle, with her manner of speaking. <<if $cold >= 55>>You're much the same, as Uncle Callen likes to say. "Two blunt peas in a blunt pod!"<<else>><</if>> Willem looks into his plate for a moment, and hums gently. "Sola promises opportunity, and there was little more of that to be found in our home town, Bivia. I found myself travelling increasingly far, for longer and longer, such that I would miss precious time with my family." He gazes fondly at Sam, who responds with a slightly shaky smile, playing with his food. "Eventually I found myself unable to leave home and then, much later, I made this choice." He gestures vaguely around him to the city, you imagine. "Wouldn't Pacen or Florre be better choices for Risen Cities, though? They're both in Abria, and a good sight closer than this place." Aunt Sonia reasons. "Ah, but neither are quite as prominent as Sola!" Willem laughs, "I may have been subject to a small amount of Telfrini propaganda, but I must admit this place has bewitched me, somewhat. It does help that many of my countrymen are to be found here, but without the ... //oversight//, of the Abrian Senate."<</if>> "We're familiar with //that// aspect of Abria, for sure..." Sonia grumbles. [[Next|Chap2Scene70]]

"You're just like her.." Sam whispers, pointing to Aunt Sonia. Similarly to you, she has a plate full of a veritable assortment, varied and abundant. <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>You smile inwardly to be so similar to her in that way.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 54 and $soniaClose >= 45>>It's not an //incorrect// thing to point out, but you're not sure how to feel about it.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 44>>You frown at the comparison, though not deeply enough for Sam to notice, apparently, as he goes back to focusing on his own meal.<</if>> You dig in, and are pleasantly surprised by just how good it tastes! Abrian food isn't something unfamiliar to you--Sola is a sort of melting pot for different cultures, with all kinds of food and recipes on sale in various shops, so you're quite well-accustomed to eating plenty of differing dishes, partly owing to Aunt Sonia's passion for cooking. "//Mm--//this's good!" She praises, in-between happy munches. "You'll have to show me some of these recipes." Uncle Callen hums his agreement, not quite as willing to speak with his mouth full as she is. "I cannot say I did it alone; I had quite an eager helper." Willem nods towards Sam, who blushes at the praise, greedily feasting on his own meal. "Only a helper, of course. Not alone, after the last few times..." Light conversation is made for the next while--Uncle Callen gives the two some advice to stock up on warmer clothing for Autumn and Winter, Sam shows off a morbid trick with his eyelids that makes Aunt Sonia turn away in horror, making the boy guffaw. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>It's Uncle Callen that pops one of the questions you've been wondering yourself. "So, why the move, if ye don't mind me askin'? Sola's a long way away from anything Abrian." He speaks calmly, smoothly. There's no accusation in his voice, only a genuine curiosity. Willem looks into his plate for a moment, and hums gently. "Sola promises opportunity, and there was little more of that to be found in our home town, Bivia. I found myself travelling increasingly far, for longer and longer, such that I would miss precious time with my family." He gazes fondly at Sam, who responds with a slightly shaky smile, playing with his food. "Eventually I found myself unable to leave home and then, much later, I made this choice." He gestures vaguely around him, to the city, apparently. "Wouldn't Pacen or Florre be better choices for Risen Cities, though? They're both in Abria, and a good sight closer than this place." Aunt Sonia reasons. "Ah, but neither are quite as prominent as Sola!" Willem laughs, "I may have been subject to a small amount of Telfrini propaganda, but I must admit this place has bewitched me, somewhat. It does help that many of my countrymen are to be found here, but without the ... //oversight//, of the Abrian Senate."<<else>>It's Aunt Sonia that pops one of the questions you've been wondering yourself. "You'll forgive my question if it's unwelcome, Willem, but I've been wondering what made you choose Sola of all places. It's hardly the closest place to Abria, is it?" Her question is blunt, her tone more so. Uncle Callen sighs quietly at her side. Even at the best of times she's not exactly ... subtle, with her manner of speaking. <<if $cold >= 55>>You're much the same, as Uncle Callen likes to say. "Two blunt peas in a blunt pod!"<<else>><</if>> Willem looks into his plate for a moment, and hums gently. "Sola promises opportunity, and there was little more of that to be found in our home town, Bivia. I found myself travelling increasingly far, for longer and longer, such that I would miss precious time with my family." He gazes fondly at Sam, who responds with a slightly shaky smile, playing with his food. "Eventually I found myself unable to leave home and then, much later, I made this choice." He gestures vaguely around him to the city, you imagine. "Wouldn't Pacen or Florre be better choices for Risen Cities, though? They're both in Abria, and a good sight closer than this place." Aunt Sonia reasons. "Ah, but neither are quite as prominent as Sola!" Willem laughs, "I may have been subject to a small amount of Telfrini propaganda, but I must admit this place has bewitched me, somewhat. It does help that many of my countrymen are to be found here, but without the ... //oversight//, of the Abrian Senate."<</if>> "We're familiar with that aspect of Abria, for sure..." Sonia grumbles. [[Next|Chap2Scene70]]

You glide past ale-happy drunkards and giggling merrymakers as you descend the stairs, ears gradually filling with the late-night chaos of the inn--Riva's Rest. It is hardly a fitting name; there's precious little rest to be found here. One of the owners tending the bar catches your eye as you pass her. She's a tall, strongly-built woman, with arms to rival the man you assume to be her husband, who is currently occupied with shoving an unruly group out of the front doors. She requested your services just a few days ago, offering room and board as payment. You were to deliver a crate of rare mead to a nearby village, a relatively easy job compared to your more recent ventures. You work as a courier, ferrying items, messages and, occasionally, people across the land. Phanol is a massive, perilous continent to traverse, so protecting cargo and oneself is imperative. In these trying times transport is, in itself, a rarity. It's rough work, and it gets more dangerous as the months go on, requiring a warrior's skillset such as yours to even get by. Still, it's less ... //stressful// than the last job you used to hold, despite the occasional wound you pick up on the road. Vengard is famously a nation of warriors and weaponsmiths, so it's no surprise there has been no shortage of obstacles in your way. You've been travelling steadily southward as you go, hoping to get away from the unrest in Telfrin and Mestiria to the north. On the odd occasion you'll join a caravan of merchants or travellers, seeking safety in their substantial numbers, but not often. No, it's often just you out there. It's better that way. [[You've long since given up on trying to connect to other people in a way that means much.|NewPrologueScene2.5a]] [[You wouldn't mind some company on the road. The protection doesn't hurt, and there's always a chance for extra food.|NewPrologueScene2.5b]]

Grimacing uncomfortably, you shuffle around ale-happy drunkards and giggling merrymakers, trying to keep as much distance as possible as you descend the stairs while your ears gradually fill with the late-night chaos of the inn--Riva's Rest. It is hardly a fitting name; there's precious little rest to be found here. One of the owners tending the bar catches your eye as you pass her. She's a tall, strongly-built woman, with arms to rival the man you assume to be her husband, who is currently occupied with shoving an unruly group out of the front doors. She requested your services just a few days ago, offering room and board as payment. You were to deliver a crate of rare mead to a nearby village, a relatively easy job compared to your more recent ventures. You work as a courier, ferrying items, messages and, occasionally, people across the land. Phanol is a massive, perilous continent to traverse, so protecting cargo and oneself is imperative. In these trying times safe transport is in itself a luxury. It's rough work, and it gets more dangerous as the months go on, requiring a warrior's skillset such as yours to even get by. Still, it's less ... //stressful// than the last job you held, despite the occasional wound you pick up on the road. Vengard is famously a nation of warriors and weaponsmiths, so the abundance of obstacles on your way south has been of little surprise. You've been moving away from the unrest in Mestiria and Telfrin to the north, hearing whispers of another conflict on the border. On the odd occasion you'll join a caravan of merchants or travellers, seeking safety in their substantial numbers, but not often. No, it's often just you out there. It's better that way. [[You've long since given up on trying to connect to other people in a way that means much.|NewPrologueScene2.5a]] [[You wouldn't mind some company on the road. The protection doesn't hurt, and there's always a chance for extra food.|NewPrologueScene2.5b]]

<<set $ch2GiveDrawing to "no">><<set $NickForSamCh2 == "no">>Willem nods quietly, before his attention is drawn to you and Sam, having finished your meals. Their conversation isn't exactly something you can jump into, and you're both found having precious little to do. <<if $chap2BringGift == "yes" or $chap2BringGift == "yesSam">>You might like to take another look at your gift from earlier, the box sitting securely in your lap, but it's hardly the right time. You cast a forlorn look at the thing before looking back at Sam's father.<<else>>You look back at Sam's father, not sure what he expects from you.<</if>> "Perhaps," he tilts his head a little, an invisible smile in his copper-coloured eyes, "the children would like to spend some time together?" "I'm sure they were loving our boring chats." Aunt Sonia smirks. Sam, meanwhile, has a look of cautious excitement plastered on his face. "Can we? We'll be real good, won't make no noise, or--" "Yes, Samuel." His father laughs, waving away his son's terms leniently. The boy bolts from his seat, calling out a shrill "Thanks, pa!" As he brushes through the partially-open door with an instinctive nimbleness, presumably to his bedroom. [[Finally! You set off with Sam as quickly as possible. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene71a][$patient to $patient - 2, $chap2GoHome to "no"]] [[Well, you don't actually know if it's okay for you to go yet. Stick around to ask. (Patient +)|Chap2Scene71b][$patient to $patient + 2, $chap2GoHome to "no"]] [[You ... don't want to. You'd really rather go home, something you tell them quietly. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene71c][$volatile to $volatile - 2, $chap2GoHome to "yes"]] [["No, I want to go home!" You moan. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene71d][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $chap2GoHome to "yes"]]

//"Be quiet." Your cheeks heat despite yourself. "So it is! Mm, a pretty girl. You would make a wife of her?" They ask, almost giggling as they finish the sentence. You gape at them in abject horror. "I-I'm not sure, Rion! I have not ... spoken with her, yet." It feels absurd to act this shy, but you're the one averting your eyes now with Rion's grin, dripping with glee, simply too much to bear. "Mm, just try not to let her distract you." they quip playfully. "You think so little of me?" "What we seek to do is busy work, and I need my guardian." They smoothly sit up and stand, their wings spreading wide behind them as they move in front of you, blocking the sun from your vision momentarily before folding their wings behind them. The avian limbs poke up from above their head and neatly tuck behind their back like a silky white cloak. They hold a hand out to you and you take it, sheepishly letting them help you up. You're a little woozy from the wine, so you wobble as you stand. "Are you quite alright, Druso?" You nod. "Yes, I will be fine. This hellish wine..." Their laugh is light and airy as they clap your back and begin walking back to the party with you. "I will make sure Efinia knows of this, yes? I am told getting drunk easily is something a romantic partner favours. It's ... hm, ''cheaper''." You scowl for a moment as they giggle at your expense. "You wouldn't dare, Rion. Shall I run back and tell those clan leaders about that time with the pig, when we were--" Rion's smile tilts and they blink, shocked. "You would jeopardize the clan leaders' respect of me over a maiden? My, my, you must truly see something in her, Druso!" You simply glare at them in response. "Do not test me, ''bird''." "Alright, alright! My lips are sealed." They blurt out harriedly, waving their hands at you as if to dispel the long-lost memory resurfacing in their mind. Their eyes twinkle amusedly, but there's something else behind the expression that you can't ''quite'' place. [["Hm, good." You grunt, before pausing a moment.|Chap1Interlude6]]

"Why yes, of //course// you can go, thanks for asking your dear Au--" Those sarcastic words get quieter as you move further away, following Sam out of the door, across the hallway and into his bedroom. The boy checks over his shoulder quickly and, seeing that you're right behind him, lets out a short yelp of surprise. [[Seeing an opportunity, you sprint and tackle Sam onto his bed.|Chap2Scene72a]] [["Boo!" You try to make him jump.|Chap2Scene72b]] [[Come to a halt in front of him.|Chap2Scene72c]]

You quietly watch Sam scamper off, and walk over to Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia who look at you, puzzled. "Somethin' the matter, $callenChild?" He asks, turning in his seat slightly and leaning on one side to look at you better. You mutter, "Am I alright to ... well--" "Go with him? Of course you are, kid!" Aunt Sonia laughs, patting your head roughly. "$theyF can't have gotten these manners from me, can $they?" She jokes with Uncle Callen. "Aye, lass, but it seems there're miracles yet to be done in the world, eh?" He grins at her, and nods towards you. "Go on, $callenChild. We'll be in for ya when it's time t'go." With confirmation that you can follow, you gingerly step around Willem's chair and out of the room, <<if $cold >= 50>>smiling politely when he waves you goodbye.<<else>>grinning widely when he waves you goodbye, giving a wave of your own in return.<</if>> When you get to the door of Sam's bedroom, you spot him standing there looking confused. "I was waitin' for you!" He laughs. "Where'd you go?!" "Oh," you hesitate, "I was asking if I could come with you." He snort-laughs, something you didn't know was possible until now. "That's //silly//." Then he shrugs. "Ah, well, I do stuff that's silly too, but maybe not as much as you!" [[This won't do. Seeing an opportunity, you rush forward and tackle Sam onto his bed.|Chap2Scene72a]] [["Well, we're both silly." You reason, laughing with him. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene72d][$volatile to $volatile - 2]] [["You're way sillier than me!" You argue, pouting. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene72e][$volatile to $volatile + 1]]

You shuffle over and whisper in <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's<<else>>Uncle Callen's<</if>> ear your reluctance to stay, and $mentorThey fixes you with a concerned look. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Oh, $callenChild. It's alright, we'll get ye on home, okay?" He turns to Aunt Sonia and Willem. "I'm gonna take the $callenChild home. It's been a bit of a day for $themInformal." He chuckles. "I'm sure we can make conversation until you're back." Aunt Sonia smirks, addressing Willem, "How much do you know about Vengardian weaponcraft?" He looks to the ceiling for a moment. "Precious little, to be perfectly candid." He laughs sheepishly. "See?" She throws her hands up. "Plenty to talk about." "Good luck, Willem." Uncle Callen smiles, already leading you out of the room. "Goodnight, $firstname. T'was a pleasure to put a face to the well-praised name!" Willem beams, giving you a small wave goodbye. <<if $cold > 50>>"Goodnight.." You respond, quiet and slightly stiff. If your social capacity was a river, it would be running deathly dry right now.<<else>>"Goodnight!" You manage to smile, your response bright if a little quiet. If your capacity for being sociable was a river, it would be running deathly dry right now.<</if>> As you head out into the corridor, Uncle Callen stops and turns to you. "Would ye like t'say goodbye to Sam?"<<else>>"...Okay, $firstname. Tough day, eh? I reckon I'm partially responsible for that, with training. I bet this meal just took you out too, didn't it?" She chuckles. "I'm feeling a bit stuffed as well, in all honesty." She adds with a wink. She stands from her chair. "I'm taking $firstname home for the night. $theyF looks like $they's about to collapse, so I'll be back in a while, alright?" "Okay, lass." Uncle Callen smiles, patting you on the shoulder comfortingly. "Willem an' I'll hold the fort, so t'speak." He chuckles. "Don't become best friends without me," she teases, leading you out of the room with her. "I know what you're like, Edros." As you're about to leave, Willem catches your attention. "Goodnight, $firstname. T'was a pleasure to put a face to the well-praised name!" The man beams, giving you a small wave goodbye. <<if $cold > 50>>"Goodnight.." You respond, quiet and slightly stiff. If your social capacity was a river, it would be running deathly dry right now.<<else>>"Goodnight!" You manage to smile, your response bright if a little quiet. If your capacity for being sociable was a river, it would be running deathly dry right now.<</if>> As you head out into the corridor, Aunt Sonia stops and turns to you. "Think you'd like to say goodbye to the kid, first?"<</if>> [[🌞+ You nod quickly. You might be tired, but you wouldn't miss the opportunity to say goodbye to Sam.|Chap2Scene71ca]] [[You shake your head. You just want to go home.|Chap2Scene71cb]] <<if $samRelationship <= 45>>[[🌞- You shake your head. Sam's the last person you want to talk to right now, tired as you are.|Chap2Scene71cb][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam is not low enough to choose this option.//<</if>>

Uncle Callen frowns softly, and Aunt Sonia sends a stern look your way. You stamp your foot in response, emphasizing your point. "Why not, $callenChild?" His question isn't unexpected. Considering your outburst, he must think you have a very strong reason for not wanting to stay here anymore. [["I'm tired!"|Chap2Scene71dc]] <<if $samRelationship <= 45>>[["I don't even like him!" You're referring to Sam, of course.|Chap2Scene71da]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam is not low enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [[All your bravado seems to deflate in an instant. You sniff, "I think I'm tired..."|Chap2Scene71db]]

Aunt Sonia's once-stony face softens, and she glances at Uncle Callen before speaking. "I'm sure you are, huh? It's been a long day..." It definitely has! From training this morning, to meeting Sam and all that happened in the forest, it's been a long, tiring day. Not to mention that stupid, //strange// voice that won't get out of your head. You want to sleep. You nod sadly, wringing your hands behind your back in embarrassment for your earlier outburst. "I'm sorry..." Willem speaks up. "There is nothing to be sorry for, young $firstname. I sometimes forget that most children are not as, hm, //wakeful// as Samuel." He shares a laugh with your two guardians, but there's an unmistakbly sad look in his eyes. As if he were hoping you'd give some company to Sam. [[You reconsider. "Well..." (Stubborn -)|Chap2Scene71dba][$chap2GoHome to "noTired", $stubborn to $stubborn - 2]] [[You aren't budging. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene71dbb][$chap2GoHome to "yesTired", $stubborn to $stubborn + 2]]

"I don't wanna spend time with //him//." You nod your head towards where Sam left. "Let's hope he didn't hear that, $firstname." Aunt Sonia sighs tersely. "That's not how we talk about other people, even if we've had a hell of a day." Willem speaks up. "It is alright, really." He turns to you, stood up as you are. "I would rather you are comfortable instead of having to spend time with somebody you do not work well with." Despite his supportive words, he looks a bit sad. As if he were hoping you'd give some company to Sam. [[You reconsider. "Well ... maybe it won't be so bad..." (Stubborn -)|Chap2Scene71daa][$chap2GoHome to "noMad", $stubborn to $stubborn - 2]] [[You aren't budging, no matter how many old men look sad at you. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene71dab][$chap2GoHome to "yesSam", $stubborn to $stubborn + 2]]

"Don't we know it?" Aunt Sonia half-laughs. "That's no reason to start shouting and stomping, is it?" "//You// get mad lots of times." You point out, huffingly. "An' that's wrong, $callenChild. Just as what you did was." Uncle Callen backs her up, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Fine. //Sorry.// Can we go home now?" Willem speaks up. "It is I who should be sorry for keeping you so late, young $firstname. I sometimes forget that most children are not as, hm, //wakeful// as Samuel." He shares a laugh with your two guardians, but there's an unmistakbly sad look in his eyes. As if he were hoping you'd give some company to Sam. [[You reconsider. "Well ... I suppose I could stay, for a little bit?" (Stubborn -)|Chap2Scene71dca][$chap2GoHome to "noTired", $stubborn to $stubborn - 2]] [[You aren't budging. (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene71dcb][$chap2GoHome to "yesTired", $stubborn to $stubborn + 2]]

"Good $callenChild." Uncle Callen praises, patting your shoulder proudly. "Thank you, $firstname. Samuel will appreciate the company, I am sure." Willem smiles to show his thanks. "Go on, then." Aunt Sonia nods towards the door. "You've kept the kid waiting long enough, haven't you?" [[Next|Chap2Scene71daa2]]

Uncle Callen sighs. "Alright then, $callenChild. We'll get ya on home." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I'll take $them, Cal. You can get better acquainted with Willem, eh? Just don't go telling him any //stories//. I'll see you soon, Willem." She adresses the other man, who smiles a silent goodbye. He puts his hand to his heart. "Wouldn't dream of incitin' yer wrath, lass." You're just out of the door with her when you notice Sam's head, popped out of the door to his quarters. "What's goin' on?" Before you can answer, Aunt Sonia speaks for you. "$firstname is tired, so I'm taking $them home for the night. I'll be back later to, uh, tell you some Weaver stories?" She offers awkwardly. Sam looked disappointed before, but lights up a little. "Oh, yes!" He looks at you, giving a timid wave. "See you later, $firstname. I hope you sleep good an' stuff." [[Despite how you feel, it's no reason to upset him. "Goodbye, Sam." (Cold -)|Chap2Scene72daba][$cold to $cold - 2]] [[🌞- Brush him off coldly. "Yeah, bye." (Cold +)|Chap2Scene72dabb][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2, $cold to $cold + 2]]

Uncle Callen sighs. "Alright then, $callenChild. We'll get ya on home." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I'll take $them, Cal. You can get better acquainted with Willem, eh? Just don't go telling him any //stories//." He puts his hand to his heart. "Wouldn't dream of incitin' yer wrath, lass." You're just out of the door with her when you notice Sam's head, popped out of the door to his quarters. "What's goin' on?" Before you can answer, Aunt Sonia speaks for you. "$firstname is tired, so I'm taking $them home for the night. I'll be back later to, uh, tell you some Weaver stories?" She offers awkwardly. Sam looked disappointed before, but lights up a little. "Oh, yes!" He looks at you, giving a timid wave. "See you later, $firstname. I hope you sleep good an' stuff." [[You smile warmly. "Goodbye, Sam." (Cold -)|Chap2Scene72daba][$cold to $cold - 2]] [[🌞- Brush him off coldly. "Yeah, bye." (Cold +)|Chap2Scene72dabb][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2, $cold to $cold + 2]]

He smiles wanly, and shifts back into his bedroom. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"Good $callenChild." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

His narrow shoulders slump, and he looks away. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia sighs, exasperated, and practically drags you away and down the stairs. "We need to work on your interpersonal communication skills, kid..." "I don't know what that //means//." You frown. "There lies the root of the problem." She jabs, a smirk creeping through despite her stern demeanour. "Come on, we'll get you on home. But you're going to sleep once we're in, alright?"<<else>>Uncle Callen sighs, nudging your back so you go down the stairs ahead of him. "That was unkind, $callenChild. It's no way to be talkin' to others, especially those we should be welcomin'." "I can't help not liking him!" You complain. It's //stupid// that they expect you to get on with Sam just because he's another kid. It'd be like asking Aunt Sonia to get on with a priest just because neither of them ever smile! He shakes his head. "Ye //can//. An' if that fails, ye can try bein' just a little bit kinder. It does nobody any good to make enemies, $callenChild. Now, c'mon. We'll get ya t'bed once we're home."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

<<set $chap2Ask1 = "no">><<set $chap2Ask2 = "no">><<set $chap2Ask3 = "no">><<set $chap2Ask4 = "no">><<set $samCrushrealise to "n">>Once you're back home, $mentorTermChild escorts you up to bed and, when you're changed, $mentorThey sits at your bedside on a chair made for your much smaller frame. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Had a long day, eh?" He smiles down at you, dimly lit by a small, wavering candle. The city outside your closed curtain is dark and quiet. Thankfully, the wind does not howl tonight.<<else>>"Hell of a day, right, kid?" She smirks, dimly lit by a small, wavering candle. The city outside your closed curtain is dark and quiet. Thankfully, the wind does not howl tonight.<</if>> [[You nod quietly.|Chap2Scene74a]] [["I had lots of fun, though..." You yawn.|Chap2Scene74b]]

You walk up to Sam's half-open door, presumably left that way for you to follow him. Some guilt builds in the back of your mind at letting him down, but you really //are// tired. You look inside at the slightly messy room, full of half-opened crates and already strewn with various knick-knacks of Sam's and spot him sitting on his bed, peering into a small box. A soft knock on the door gets his attention, and he springs up. "$firstname!" He grins, waving you in. "Come on, there's some stuff I wanna show you." You shuffle in place, and it's then that he looks at <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>, standing behind you. "Sorry, but ... I'm going home. I just wanted to say goodbye." You explain, inwardly cringing as his smile visibly drops. "Oh ... why?" He tilts his head, confused. "Are you okay?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen joins in. "$theyF's just a bit tired, Sam. S'been a long day for the $callenChild, y'see. Even before meetin' you out in the forest, I had $themInformal trainin' for a good hour."<<else>>Aunt Sonia comes to your rescue. "$firstname's had a bit of an arduous day. I had $them swinging a sword around for about an hour before $they even came and met you, you know." She explains. His expression shifts to show understanding, and a little bit of shame for being so disappointed initially. "Oh! Right ... well," he looks back at you, now smiling, "I hope you sleep good, then!" "Thanks..." You smile sheepishly<<if $samRomance == 1>>, not quite able to look him in the eye for fear of your breath catching in your throat.<<else>>.<</if>> "See you later, $firstname." The boy smiles, giving a flappy wave.<<if $samCh2Hug == "yes"">> "Uh ... d'you want another hug before you go? To make you feel better?" [[🌞+ You nod, giggling. Of course you do!|Chap2Scene71caa][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] <<if $samRelationship == 1>>[[🌞+🔥 Well, your breath certainly catches in your throat now. You nod, unable to speak.|Chap2Scene71caaR][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞+🔥 Well, your breath certainly catches in your throat now. You shake your head, unable to speak.|Chap2Scene71cabR][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose these options.//<</if>> [[🌞+ You shake your head in the negative.|Chap2Scene71cab][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<<else>> "You too, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>You too, Mister Callen!<<else>>You too, Miss Sonia!<</if>>" [[🌞+ "Goodnight, Sam!" You smile and wave back at him, now ready to leave.|Chap2Scene71cac][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞+🔥 On impulse, you throw yourself into a hug with the boy.|Chap2Scene71cad][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $samCh2Hug to "yes"]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [["G'night..." You mutter, already yawning. You're definitely ready to leave.|Chap2Scene71cae]]<</if>>

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>She nods softly. "Alright, then. Let's get on home. Straight to bed, yeah? I don't want you grumpy in the morning, like me." You can only breathe a tired "No..." as your agreement, letting her lead you down the stairs and to the shop's door.<<else>>"Okay, $callenChild. C'mon, then, let's get your tired little self in bed, eh? Bet ye can't wait for a nice lie-down. I know I can't!" He chuckles.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

"C'mere, then!" Sam laughs, opening his arms to anticipate your hug. He pats your back soothingly, rocking side to side a little. "See you later, $firstname..." He murmurs in your ear, smiling ear-to-ear when you disengage. "Still good at hugs." He giggles. "G'night!" He abruptly turns and scampers back into his bedroom, leaving you alone with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> once more. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"C'mon, then." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

Sam's mouth twists in concern at your hesitant reaction, despite your agreement. "C'mere, then!" He laughs, opening his arms to anticipate your hug. He pats your back soothingly, rocking side to side a little. "Sweet dreams, $firstname..." He murmurs in your ear, smiling ear-to-ear when you disengage. "Still good at hugs." He giggles. "G'night!" He abruptly turns and scampers back into his bedroom, leaving you alone with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> once more. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"C'mon, then." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

A quiet "Mm-mm.." is all you're able to muster as you feel your cheeks heating. That'd be just one too many hugs from him today. Sam giggles at your awkward rejection, but accepts it without question. "Okay! Night then, $firstname." He waves you off, then abruptly turns and scampers back into his bedroom, leaving you alone with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> once more. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"C'mon, then." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

He just smiles, unbothered by the rejection. "Okay! Night then, $firstname." He waves you off, then abruptly turns and scampers back into his bedroom, leaving you alone with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> once more. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"C'mon, then." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

"Night, $firstname!" Sam smiles, then abruptly turns and scampers back into his bedroom, leaving you alone with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> once more. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"C'mon, then." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

"Oh!" The boy exclaims, surprised by your hug. He's quick to reciprocate, however, clutching you just as fiercely as you cling to him. You stay like that for a few moments, rocking side to side as Sam chuckles softly the whole time. When you separate, you feel a bit cold, like a blanket's been lifted in the dead of night. "You're good at hugs, $firstname." He giggles. "G'night, then!" He abruptly turns and scampers back into his bedroom, leaving you alone with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> once more. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"C'mon, then." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

Sam's wracked with soft chuckles when you yawn, and waves you off again. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Alright, let's get you on home, then." Aunt Sonia walks you down the stairs. "You're going straight to bed once we're in, though. More training tomorrow for you."<<else>>"Let's go." Uncle Callen whispers as he leads you down the stairs. "Once we're in, it's bed for ya. There'll be plenty of trainin' to do tomorrow, eh?" He smiles teasingly.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

"//Wuh//--" Sam grunts as you collide with his taller frame, using all you know about bringing down a larger opponent. You aim low, pushing against his hip with your shoulder. To your moderate surprise, he completely crumples from the force of your charge, trying to grab and throw you to the side futilely. The two of you fall into a laughing heap on his bed before he finally manages to push you off. You've had little practice in grappling with anyone other than Aunt Sonia who's a lot bigger than you and has to pretend for training purposes, and Uncle Callen who's a //lot// bigger than you, and only makes that problem worse. Sam sits up, looking quizically at you. "How'd you do //that//? You're not that heavy!" He demonstrates by nudging you around, making you laugh again. <<if $samNick == "Clumsy">>"I guess you did just eat a lot, huh? You were pretty easy to help up when you fell in the stream." He evokes the memory of your embarrassing fall, but there's no teasing intent behind the words.<<else>>"I guess you did just eat a lot, huh? Maybe all that food made you like a battering ram!"<</if>> "It's about your balance," you explain, sitting up, "I aimed for your centre so you'd be off-balance. //That's// why you fell." He laughs, twisting around before jumping to his feet again, leaving you looking up at him. "Well, it worked, $samNick!" You snort at the nickname. <<if $samNick == "Punchy">>"How's your nose?" You ask, suddenly recalling the reason he dubbed you that in the first place. Instinctively his hand reaches to brush his nose. "Oh, it's fine now! Er--" He winces, prodding it harder, "I think so, anyway. I //really// wouldn't wanna get in a proper fight with you, $firstname. You'd have me out cold before I could cry an' run away!" He laughs. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You ask blithely. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<elseif $samNick == "Clumsy">>"Don't remind me!" You giggle, pushing away the memory of you falling in the stream. "//You're// the one who fell in!" Sam teases. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<else>>"Is that my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<</if>> [["Could you just call me by my name, instead?" The nickname is, well, embarrassing.|Chap2Scene73][$samNick to $firstname]] [["...Not really." You grimace sheepishly.|Chap2Scene73b][$samNick to $firstname]] [["You can call me it," you grin sinisterly, "only if I get to give you a nickname, too."|Chap2Scene73c]] [[You laugh. "No, I think it's funny!"|Chap2Scene73d]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"I like it..." You mutter, embarrassed.(Cold +)|Chap2Scene73e][$cold to $cold + 1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"No, I love it!" You laugh. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene73f][$cold to $cold - 2]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>>

Sam just smiles lopsidedly at you. "You //already// scared me, $firstname." "I wanted to scare you more!" You reason, giggling. He flops down on his bed, staring up at you, and pats the free space at his side for you to sit, so you do. You sink down slightly into the plush surface, making Sam roll to his right a bit because you're so close. He snorts and sits up. "Well, you can't scare me anymore, //$samNick//. The nickname is accompanied by his tongue sticking out at you. <<if $samNick == "Punchy">>"How's your nose?" You ask, suddenly recalling the reason he dubbed you that in the first place. Instinctively his hand reaches to brush his nose. "Oh, it's fine now! Er--" He winces, prodding it harder, "I think so, anyway. I //really// wouldn't wanna get in a proper fight with you, $firstname. You'd have me out cold before I could cry an' run away!" He laughs. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<elseif $samNick == "Clumsy">>"Don't remind me!" You giggle, pushing away the memory of you falling in the stream. "//You're// the one who fell in!" Sam teases. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<else>>"Is that my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<</if>> [["Could you just call me by my name, instead?" The nickname is, well, embarrassing.|Chap2Scene73][$samNick to $firstname]] [["...Not really." You grimace sheepishly.|Chap2Scene73b][$samNick to $firstname]] [["You can call me it," you grin sinisterly, "only if I get to give you a nickname, too."|Chap2Scene73c]] [[You laugh. "No, I think it's funny!"|Chap2Scene73d]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"I like it..." You mutter, embarrassed.(Cold +)|Chap2Scene73e][$cold to $cold + 1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"No, I love it!" You laugh. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene73f][$cold to $cold - 2]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>>

Sam blinks at your sudden stop, obviously having anticipated something else. "Watch this!" He yells suddenly, jumping backwards and twisting around in the air so he lands with an "oof!" on his bed. He pats the free space at his side for you to sit, so you do. You sink down slightly into the plush surface, making Sam roll to his right a bit because you're so close. He snorts and sits up. "Well, you can't scare me anymore, //$samNick//. The nickname is accompanied by his tongue sticking out at you. <<if $samNick == "Punchy">>"How's your nose?" You ask, suddenly recalling the reason he dubbed you that in the first place. Instinctively his hand reaches to brush his nose. "Oh, it's fine now! Er--" He winces, prodding it harder, "I think so, anyway. I //really// wouldn't wanna get in a proper fight with you, $firstname. You'd have me out cold before I could cry an' run away!" He laughs. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<elseif $samNick == "Clumsy">>"Don't remind me!" You giggle, pushing away the memory of you falling in the stream. "//You're// the one who fell in!" Sam teases. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<else>>"Is that my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<</if>> [["Could you just call me by my name, instead?" The nickname is, well, embarrassing.|Chap2Scene73][$samNick to $firstname]] [["...Not really." You grimace sheepishly.|Chap2Scene73b][$samNick to $firstname]] [["You can call me it," you grin sinisterly, "only if I get to give you a nickname, too."|Chap2Scene73c]] [[You laugh. "No, I think it's funny!"|Chap2Scene73d]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"I like it..." You mutter, embarrassed.(Cold +)|Chap2Scene73e][$cold to $cold + 1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"No, I love it!" You laugh. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene73f][$cold to $cold - 2]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>>

Sam nods happily. "Yep! I dub thee $samNick once more. $samNick, $samNick, $samNick, $samNick, $samNick..." He chants, and you <<if $cold > 50>>roll your eyes a little at the immaturity of it.<<else>>laugh a little at the immaturity of it.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene75]]

Sam nods happily. "Okay! I dub thee $samNick once more. $samNick, $samNick, $samNick, $samNick, $samNick..." He chants, and you <<if $cold > 50>>roll your eyes a little at the immaturity of it.<<else>>laugh a little at the immaturity of it.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene75]]

<<set $NickForSamCh2 == "yes">>"Ooh!" He grins, leaning forward slightly. "What's my new name, then?" You tap your chin for a moment, deep in thought... [[Goldie. Because of his golden hair, of course.|Chap2Scene74c][$nickForSam to "Goldie"]] [[Sam-wich. It sounds funny.|Chap2Scene74c][$nickForSam to "Sam-wich"]] [[Sammy, as much as he won't like it.|Chap2Scene74c][$nickForSam to "Sammy"]] <<textbox "$nickForSam" "Enter your own">> [[Next|Chap2Scene74c]]

Sam snickers along with you. "Well, //that's// good, 'cause I was gonna keep using it either way!" "Really?" You balk. His composure fails, and he shakes his head with bubbly laughter. "Nah, but I had you goin', didn't I?" <<if $cold >= 50>>You roll your eyes. "You're not funny." "Says who?" He blinks innocently. You don't say anything, instead simply jutting your own thumb at yourself with a strong expression. Sam's eyes widen in mock-horror, and he starts begging. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll try an' be funnier, promise!" He says, through half-stifled laughter.<<else>>You huff an unexpected laugh. He grins proudly. "I can tell I did, ha!"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene75]]

Sam grins, flashing a slightly-crooked set of teeth at you--with one missing. "Really?" You shrug your shoulders, almost burying your chin in your collarbone. "Mm-hm!" He snickers at your strange behaviour--does he notice it? "Well, //that's// good, 'cause I was gonna keep using it either way!" "Really?" You balk, head springing out of your shoulders like a jumping frog. His composure fails, and he shakes his head with bubbly laughter. "Nah, but I had you goin', didn't I?" <<if $cold >= 50>>You roll your eyes. "You're not funny." You huff, even as your cheeks start to itch with heat--he did, and for some reason, you don't want to admit it. "Says who?" He blinks innocently. You don't say anything, instead simply jutting your own thumb at yourself with a strong expression. Sam's eyes widen in mock-horror, and he starts begging. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll try an' be funnier, promise!" He says, through half-stifled laughter.<<else>>You huff an unexpected laugh, and your cheeks start to itch with heat--he did, and for some reason, you like that he did. He grins proudly. "I can tell I did, ha!"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene75]]

Thank you. Now, on to the game! [[Next|Prologue]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Goodness, $callenChild. Words escape ye, eh?" He nudges you playfully, and you <<if $callenClose > 50>>find it in yourself to giggle, tired as you are.<<else>>groan, irritated. You're not in the mood.<</if>> Uncle Callen just chuckles quietly. He shifts in his tiny seat, as if getting up, before hesitating. "Is there anythin' ye'd like to talk about, $callenChild?" His voice, soft and rough, soothes you ever-closer to the much-needed realm of sleep. [[There are some things you'd like to talk about.|Chap2Scene75aCal]] [[You shake your head.|Chap2Scene75bCal]]<<else>>"Strong and silent tonight, I take it?" She teases, and you <<if $soniaClose > 50>>find it in yourself to giggle, tired as you are.<<else>>groan, irritated. She's the least funny person you've ever met.<</if>> She smirks at your reaction and shifts in her tiny seat, as if getting up, before hesitating. "People usually tell me I'm not good at it, kid, but would you like to talk about anything before you sleep?" [[There are some things you'd like to talk about.|Chap2Scene75aSon]] [[You shake your head.|Chap2Scene75bSon]]<</if>>

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Glad to hear, $callenChild!" He nudges you playfully, and you <<if $callenClose > 50>>find it in yourself to giggle, tired as you are.<<else>>groan, irritated. You're not in the mood.<</if>> Uncle Callen just chuckles quietly. He shifts in his tiny seat, as if getting up, before hesitating. "Is there anythin' ye'd like to talk about, $callenChild?" His voice, soft and rough, soothes you ever-closer to the much-needed realm of sleep. [[There are some things you'd like to talk about.|Chap2Scene75aCal]] [[You shake your head.|Chap2Scene75bCal]]<<else>>"Here's hoping you've got that same bravado in the morning, yeah?" She teases, and you <<if $soniaClose > 50>>find it in yourself to giggle, tired as you are.<<else>>groan, irritated. She's the least funny person you've ever met.<</if>> She smirks at your reaction and shifts in her tiny seat, as if getting up, before hesitating. "People usually tell me I'm not good at it, kid, but would you like to talk about anything before you sleep?" [[There are some things you'd like to talk about.|Chap2Scene75aSon]] [[You shake your head.|Chap2Scene75bSon]]<</if>>

He blinks slowly, just looking at you while waiting for you to speak. <<if $chap2Ask1 is "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You were scared for Aunt Sonia, today.|Chap2Scene76aCal][$Chap2Ask1 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask2 is "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[There is something you'd like to talk about. He and Aunt Sonia know something about your absent parents. You've always been curious.|Chap2Scene76bCal][$chap2Ask2 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask3 is "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about your future, as a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene76cCal][$chap2Ask3 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about Sam.|Chap2Scene76dCal][$chap2Ask4 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask1 is "yes" or $chap2Ask2 is "yes" or $chap2Ask3 is "yes" or $chap2Ask4 is "yes">>[[You've asked every question you want to.|Chap2Scene77Cal]]<<else>><</if>>

<<set $chap2Ask1 to "yes">>"Aunt Sonia..." You begin, "she's hurt, isn't she?" Your voice is a tired whisper, tinged with a slight worry. He tilts his head, greyish hair shifting with the motion. "More her pride'n anythin', $callenChild. Believe me, she'll soon be actin' like the haircut was a choice." He chortles at his own joke. You shake your head firmly. "I noticed she was walking strange, before we went in. Did she ... hurt her leg, or something?" Uncle Callen bites his bottom lip, looking at the floor for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he answers. "Aye, $callenChild. She thought not to tell ye?" <<if $volatile >= 55>>A jolt of indignation runs through your gut. "Why?" Your voice comes out hasty, fraught with a sort of betrayed feeling.<<else>>"Why?" Your voice comes out confused, fraught with a sort of betrayed feeling.<</if>> "She doesn't like worryin' anybody, $callenChild. Certainly not you, of all people." He shifts back in his seat, smiling to himself. "It's her pride on the line, I suppose. But even she can't hide a limp, can she?" "It looked like it really hurt..." You murmur. "Will ... will she be okay?" You know she'd hate if something stopped her being able to do what she wants, like a bad leg. "O' course she will!" He assures you, squeezing your shoulder comfortingly. "Don't tell her I said this, but yer Aunt Sonia's made o' strong stuff. I seen it plenty o' times since meetin' her." You nod, somewhat placated. The worry's still there, but you suppose that's natural. "Did you know, too? Why didn't you tell me?" Uncle Callen hums, a deep sound from the back of his throat. "Listen, $callenChild ... Sometimes, people think hidin' things, it'll save ye from hurt, but oftentimes the hidin' hurts more than the truth o' the matter." He casts his eyes off you for a moment, chewing his lip nervously. He spends a moment deep in thought before he looks back at you, a serious look on his bearded face. "Ye might know the truth now, but don't mention it to her, eh? She don't like people worryin', even me." "Okay..." You agree mutely. He grins, patting your chest. "Good $callenChild." [[Next|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

<<set $chap2Ask2 to "yes">>What little they've each told you over the years simply hasn't been enough. The stories you read where children are hidden heirs to great kingdoms or bestowed with a great destiny requiring their absence from family, they don't capture the ... the //confusion// you feel, deep in your gut. Nor do they portray the exclusion: being the only child around that doesn't have anybody to call mother or father. You certainly don't feel like a hidden <<if $agab == "male">>prince<<else>>princess<</if>>, and you've definitely never had any old wizard come and tell you that you'll save the realm, or anything like that. Just who are your parents? Why did they leave you here, of all places, and why haven't they come back? <<if $cautious >= 55>>"Uncle Callen, I--" You stop your question as soon as you begin it, nerves trapping your vocal chords in a vice grip. He smiles, a small sympathetic gesture as you fumble your way through what you want to say. "Ye'd like to ask somethin'?" He offers when you don't attempt to ask again. You nod sheepishly. "I do..." "Go on then, $callenChild. Ask on."<<elseif $cautious <= 54 and $cautious >= 45>>"I have a question, Uncle Callen..." You mumble uncertainly, though you do not falter. The corners of his bearded mouth lift up in acknowledgement. "Go on then, $callenChild. Ask on."<<else>>"I want to ask something, and you //can't// tell me it's complicated or anything like that." You assert, shuffling up a little so you're not laid in bed. His eyes glint a little in amusement at your sudden bravado. "Go on then, $callenChild. Ask on."<</if>> You pause a moment to gather your thoughts, and fix him with a stare full of all the confusion and hope and //yearning// you've felt ever since you learned Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia weren't your blood, weren't even your real aunt and uncle, and that your parents hardly knew them, having handed you off as an infant before leaving. It was something they had told you shortly after your sixth birthday. <<if $skintone == "pale" or $skintone == "rosy" or $skintone == "warm" or $skintone == "medium" or $skintone == "olive" or $skintone == "tanned">>You might have believed there was some blood relation between two of you--of course, you've always known they're not related themselves--for much longer than you did, had they not informed you of it on a rainy afternoon.<<else>>Of course, you don't look much like Uncle Callen or Aunt Sonia, so it was easy to digest the fact that there was no blood relation between you and either of them--of course, you've always known they're not related themselves.<</if>> You take a breath, and the words simply fall out of your mouth. <<link "<q>Why don't you talk about my parents?</q>">> <<goto Chap2Scene77bCal>> <</link>>

<<set $chap2Ask3 to "yes">>He and Aunt Sonia have always made it clear that you //will// be a Bladeweaver, at least until you're considered an adult yourself. To that end, they've prepared you well for the experience, giving you training not commonly expected of a child your age and educating you at the level of someone a good couple of years ahead. <<if $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Even then, you remain steadfastly against the idea. Any attempt at avoiding the inevitability of your joining the Order is met with only sympathy from Uncle Callen and a tired sigh from Aunt Sonia.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>Even then, you remain wholly ambivalent about the whole thing. Any attempt at discussing alternatives to your joining the Order are met with only sympathy from Uncle Callen and a tired sigh from Aunt Sonia.<<else>>They both encourage your excitement at the prospect, fostering a healthy curiosity for Bladeweaver history and a good degree of knowledge about the Order.<</if>> [["Will I be able to leave the Order once I've graduated?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal1]] [["What will happen once I graduate? Will I be able to stay here?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal2]] [["Will I get to choose my weapon?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal3]] [[That's all you'd like to ask about that.|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

"What about 'im?" He asks, grey eyes glinting with interest. <<if $samRomance > 0>>[["I feel strange around him, like I'm nervous."|Chap2Scene76dCal1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [["I think we're going to be friends." You smile.|Chap2Scene79dCal2]] [["Will I have to come every time we visit?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79dCal3]]

Uncle Callen dips his head in a quiet nod. "Alright, $callenChild." He brushes a rough thumb across your forehead, soothing despite its texture. "Ye'll feel better in the mornin', I'm sure of it. An' I'll be right there if not." He smiles again. "It's a promise, eh?" "A promise..." You yawn, settling further into your warm bed. The room soon grows empty, quiet and dark. Just before you settle down, you catch a glimpse of the night sky through a gap in the curatins. It's a full moon. Your eyelids droop once, twice, and then, You sleep. [[Elsewhere...|Chap2WillemTalk]]

<<if $nickForSam == "Goldie">>"//Goldie//?" He smiles, confused. <<if $cold >= 50>>Instead of telling him why, you just point at the veritable cloud of messy curls on top of his head, catching the odd bit of light in the slightly-dim bedroom.<<else>>"You'll never guess why!" You snicker, glancing at the veritable cloud of messy curls on top of his head, catching the odd bit of light in the slightly-dim bedroom.<</if>> Sam snorts, suddenly understanding the reasoning behind your brand-new name for him, and nods his head, defeated.<<elseif $nickForSam == "Sam-wich">>..."Huh?" Sam stands in stunned silence, his sagging arms limp at his side. "//Sam ... wich...//" You sound it out slower for him, and his eyes glint with a realization. "You little--ha! That's so //silly//!" He chortles, leaning back to let out some uncontrollable giggles. When he recovers, he's holding his stomach tightly for the fear that he'll start laughing again. His breathing settles, and he shifts into a more solemn demeanour.<<elseif $nickForSam == "Sammy">>His blue eyes narrow, and he shifts a bit closer. "I shouldn't have told you that..." <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"I don't know what you mean." You reply, mustering as much false innocence as you possibly can. "I think you do, $samNick." He huffs. "It's a deal?" You giggle at his usage of your own nickname again. "...Fine." He finally chuckles. For a moment you thought he was genuinely angry with you. Though you can't really imagine him angry at anybody. <<if $chap2SamMeet == "punch">>You even //punched// him, <<if $pushedSam == "yesDontCare" or $pushedSam == "yesFeelBad">>and pushed him over, and he wasn't even mad!<<else>>and he wasn't even mad about that!<</if>><<else>><</if>> The boy nods his head, defeated.<<else>>"What's that mean?" He tilts his head, sending some of his curls bouncing around with it. You shrug. "Just came into my head." "You got a weird head, $samNick..." He sighs, but nods his head, defeated.<</if>><</if>> Sam sticks his hand out solemnly. "I'll be $nickForSam and you'll be $samNick from here on out, 'cept when we need to use our real names or we just don't feel like it or anythin', right?" You shake it, ignoring his slightly messy terms in favour of getting the bargain over with. $samNick it is. [["Deal."|Chap2Scene75]]

She blinks slowly, just looking at you while waiting for you to speak. <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You were scared for Uncle Callen, today.|Chap2Scene76aSon][$Chap2Ask1 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask2 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[There is something you'd like to talk about. She and Uncle Callen know something about your absent parents. You've always been curious.|Chap2Scene76bSon][$chap2Ask2 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask3 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about your future, as a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene76cSon][$chap2Ask3 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about Sam.|Chap2Scene76dSon][$chap2Ask4 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask1 is "yes" or $chap2Ask2 is "yes" or $chap2Ask3 is "yes" or $chap2Ask4 is "yes">>[[You've asked every question you want to.|Chap2Scene77Son]]<<else>><</if>>

There's another slight hesitation on her part, but she acquiesces, getting up with a muted grunt of exertion. Aunt Sonia reaches down to hold your chin between finger and thumb, pinching it with a rough sort of affection. "You're growing up, $firstname." She chuckles. "Had to happen some time, didn't it? Soon enough you'll be knocking us on our rears during training without any help on our part." You snicker despite the growing exhaustion. "I will?" She winks, her eyes a deep jade in the absence of any light. "If you couldn't, we'd be pretty awful teachers, wouldn't we?" Her voice has dropped to a soft, rasping whisper. <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>"You're not that bad..." You snicker.<<else>>"You //are// already." You snicker.<</if>> She bites back a rebuttal. "Sleep tight, you little warrior." She smirks, growling like a bear and shaking you a little. "Night..." You mutter, settling further into your warm bed. The room soon grows empty, quiet and dark. Just before you settle down, you catch a glimpse of the night sky through a gap in the curatins. It's a full moon. Your eyelids droop once, twice, and then, You sleep. [[Elsewhere...|Chap2WillemTalk]]

He dips his head in a quiet nod. "Alright, $callenChild." He brushes a rough thumb across your forehead, soothing despite its texture. "I hope all yer questions were answered, $callenChild. If ye ever need to talk about anythin' else, y'know where to find me." He smiles again. "It's a promise, eh?" "A promise..." You yawn, settling further into your warm bed. The room soon grows empty, quiet and dark. Just before you settle down, you catch a glimpse of the night sky through a gap in the curatins. It's a full moon. Your eyelids droop once, twice, and then, You sleep. [[Elsewhere...|Chap2WillemTalkB]]

There's another slight hesitation on her part, but she acquiesces, getting up with a muted grunt of exertion. Aunt Sonia reaches down to hold your chin between finger and thumb, pinching it with a rough sort of affection. "You're growing up, $firstname." She chuckles. "Had to happen some time, didn't it? Soon enough you'll be knocking us on our rears during training without any help on our part." You snicker despite the growing exhaustion. "I will?" She winks, her eyes a deep jade in the absence of any light. "If you couldn't, we'd be pretty awful teachers, wouldn't we?" Her voice has dropped to a soft, rasping whisper. <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>"You're not that bad..." You assure her.<<else>>"You //are// already." You smirk.<</if>> She bites back a rebuttal. "Sleep tight, you little warrior." She smirks, growling like a bear and shaking you a little. "Night..." You mutter, settling further into your warm bed. The room soon grows empty, quiet and dark. Just before you settle down, you catch a glimpse of the night sky through a gap in the curatins. It's a full moon. Your eyelids droop once, twice, and then, You sleep. [[Elsewhere...|Chap2WillemTalkB]]

<<set $chap2Ask4 to "yes">>"Oh, yeah?" She leans forward. "What's he done?" "Nothing!" You rush to say, fearing that she's misinterpreted you. "I just wanted to talk about him." "Oh." She grimaces apologetically. "Right, then." <<if $samRomance > 0>>[["I feel strange around him, like I'm nervous."|Chap2Scene76dSon1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [["I think we're going to be friends." You smile.|Chap2Scene79dSon2]] [["Will I have to come every time we visit?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79dSon3]]

<<set $chap2Ask3 to "yes">>She and Uncle Callen have always made it clear that you //will// be a Bladeweaver, at least until you're considered an adult yourself. To that end, they've prepared you well for the experience, giving you training not commonly expected of a child your age and educating you at the level of someone a good couple of years ahead. <<if $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Even then, you remain steadfastly against the idea. Any attempt at avoiding the inevitability of your joining the Order is met with only sympathy from Uncle Callen and a tired sigh from Aunt Sonia.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>Even then, you remain wholly ambivalent about the whole thing. Any attempt at discussing alternatives to your joining the Order are met with only sympathy from Uncle Callen and a tired sigh from Aunt Sonia.<<else>>They both encourage your excitement at the prospect, fostering a healthy curiosity for Bladeweaver history and a good degree of knowledge about the Order.<</if>> [["Will I be able to leave the Order once I've graduated?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon1]] [["What will happen once I graduate? Will I be able to stay here?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon2]] [["Will I get to choose my weapon?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon3]] [[That's all you'd like to ask about that.|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

<<set $chap2Ask2 to "yes">>What little they've each told you over the years simply hasn't been enough. The stories you read where children are hidden heirs to great kingdoms or bestowed with a great destiny requiring their absence from family, they don't capture the ... the //confusion// you feel, deep in your gut. Nor do they portray the exclusion: being the only child around that doesn't have anybody to call mother or father. You certainly don't feel like a hidden <<if $agab == "male">>prince<<else>>princess<</if>>, and you've definitely never had any old wizard come and tell you that you'll save the realm, or anything like that. Just who are your parents? Why did they leave you here, of all places, and why haven't they come back? <<if $cautious >= 55>>"Aunt Sonia, I--" You stop your question as soon as you begin it, nerves trapping your vocal chords in a vice grip. She waits a moment, then speaks once it's clear you won't continue. "Something to say?" You nod sheepishly. "Yeah..." "I'm all ears, kid."<<elseif $cautious <= 54 and $cautious >= 45>>"I have a question, Aunt Sonia..." You mumble uncertainly, though you do not falter. "I'm all ears, kid." She nods.<<else>>"I want to ask something, and you //can't// tell me it's complicated or anything like that." You assert, shuffling up a little so you're not laid in bed. The fire in her green eyes matches that in your own. "Well, now you've got my attention, kid. I'm all ears."<</if>> You pause a moment to gather your thoughts, and fix her with a stare full of all the confusion and hope and //yearning// you've felt ever since you learned Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia weren't your blood, weren't even your real aunt and uncle, and that your parents hardly knew them, having handed you off as an infant before leaving. It was something they had told you shortly after your sixth birthday. <<if $skintone == "pale" or $skintone == "rosy" or $skintone == "warm" or $skintone == "medium" or $skintone == "olive" or $skintone == "tanned">>You might have believed there was some blood relation between two of you--of course, you've always known they're not related themselves--for much longer than you did, had they not informed you of it on a rainy afternoon.<<else>>Of course, you don't look much like Uncle Callen or Aunt Sonia, so it was easy to digest the fact that there was no blood relation between you and either of them--of course, you've always known they're not related themselves.<</if>> You take a breath, and the words simply fall out of your mouth. <<link "<q>Why don't you talk about my parents?</q>">> <<goto Chap2Scene77bSon>> <</link>>

<<set $chap2Ask1 to "yes">>"Uncle Callen..." You begin, "will he be alright?" Your voice is a tired whisper, tinged with a slight worry. She sniffs, tilting an eyebrow down. "Have you seen him, kid? The guy's built like a tavern, a bump on his head won't do him no harm. Hell--it might make him smarter!" She laughs, but abruptly stops once she notices you aren't joining in. "Hey," she leans in closer, putting a hand atop your own, "I'll tell you a secret. I worry about him, too. Lots of times. You can't tell him though, because he won't be afraid of me anymore." She winks, "Do we have a deal? You can tell me when you're worried about him, and we can confide in one another when we want to." "Okay..." You agree mutely. She smiles softly, patting your hand. "Knew I could count on you, $firstname." [[Next|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

"Love it, huh? I knew it was a good name, but not //that// good..." Sam laughs to himself. "Well--" You stammer, suddenly conscious of your choice of wording, "not //love//, it's just--" He waves his hands to stop you. "I get it. You're just a big fan of nicknames, ain't ya?" Inadvertently, he's given you a way out, and you take it readily. "Yep!" Sam snickers along with you. "Well, //that's// good, 'cause I was gonna keep using it either way!" "Really?" You balk. His composure fails, and he shakes his head with bubbly laughter. "Nah, but I had you goin', didn't I?" <<if $cold >= 50>>You roll your eyes. "You're not funny." You huff, even as your cheeks start to itch with heat--he did, and for some reason, you like that he did. "Says who?" He blinks innocently. You don't say anything, instead simply jutting your own thumb at yourself with a strong expression. Sam's eyes widen in mock-horror, and he starts begging. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll try an' be funnier, promise!" He says, through half-stifled laughter.<<else>>You huff an unexpected laugh, and your cheeks start to itch with heat--he did, and for some reason, you like that he did. He grins proudly. "I can tell I did, ha!"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene75]]

Sam throws himself backwards onto his bed, landing on the plush surface with a squeaky "umph!". "That's fine by me. Pa always says to 'find a middle ground' when I'm disagreein' with someone, and that's what we've done." He closes his eyes, content to let your 'debate' end there, and pats the bed next to him. "Sit down, you're makin' me nervous!" You sink down slightly into the plush surface, making Sam roll to his right a bit because you're so close. He snorts and sits up. "Well I'm glad we settled that, //$samNick//." The nickname is accompanied by his tongue sticking out at you. <<if $samNick == "Punchy">>"How's your nose?" You ask, suddenly recalling the reason he dubbed you that in the first place. Instinctively his hand reaches to brush his nose. "Oh, it's fine now! Er--" He winces, prodding it harder, "I think so, anyway. I //really// wouldn't wanna get in a proper fight with you, $firstname. You'd have me out cold before I could cry an' run away!" He laughs. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<elseif $samNick == "Clumsy">>"Don't remind me!" You giggle, pushing away the memory of you falling in the stream. "//You're// the one who fell in!" Sam teases. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<else>>"Is that my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<</if>> [["Could you just call me by my name, instead?" The nickname is, well, embarrassing.|Chap2Scene73][$samNick to $firstname]] [["...Not really." You grimace sheepishly.|Chap2Scene73b][$samNick to $firstname]] [["You can call me it," you grin sinisterly, "only if I get to give you a nickname, too."|Chap2Scene73c]] [[You laugh. "No, I think it's funny!"|Chap2Scene73d]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"I like it..." You mutter, embarrassed.(Cold +)|Chap2Scene73e][$cold to $cold + 1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"No, I love it!" You laugh. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene73f][$cold to $cold - 2]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>>

Sam throws himself backwards onto his bed, landing on the plush surface with a squeaky "umph!". "We'll just agree to disagree then. Pa always says to say that when I don't like somethin' but I can't change it, so that's what I'll do now." He closes his eyes, content to let your 'debate' end there, and pats the bed next to him. "Sit down, you're makin' me nervous!" You sink down slightly into the plush surface, making Sam roll to his right a bit because you're so close. He snorts and sits up. "Well I'm glad we settled that, //$samNick//." The nickname is accompanied by his tongue sticking out at you. <<if $samNick == "Punchy">>"How's your nose?" You ask, suddenly recalling the reason he dubbed you that in the first place. Instinctively his hand reaches to brush his nose. "Oh, it's fine now! Er--" He winces, prodding it harder, "I think so, anyway. I //really// wouldn't wanna get in a proper fight with you, $firstname. You'd have me out cold before I could cry an' run away!" He laughs. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<elseif $samNick == "Clumsy">>"Don't remind me!" You giggle, pushing away the memory of you falling in the stream. "//You're// the one who fell in!" Sam teases. "So, is $samNick my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<<else>>"Is that my new name now?" You raise a single $haircolour eyebrow. "D'you not like it?" He asks, still giggling but anticipating an answer.<</if>> [["Could you just call me by my name, instead?" The nickname is, well, embarrassing.|Chap2Scene73][$samNick to $firstname]] [["...Not really." You grimace sheepishly.|Chap2Scene73b][$samNick to $firstname]] [["You can call me it," you grin sinisterly, "only if I get to give you a nickname, too."|Chap2Scene73c]] [[You laugh. "No, I think it's funny!"|Chap2Scene73d]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"I like it..." You mutter, embarrassed.(Cold +)|Chap2Scene73e][$cold to $cold + 1]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥"No, I love it!" You laugh. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene73f][$cold to $cold - 2]]<<else>>//You aren't romantically interested in Sam enough to choose this option.//<</if>>

He pauses, locking eyes with you for a moment. A silent battle of grey and $eyecolour that lasts mere seconds, but feels like half of your life. "What's brought this on, $callenChild?" "Just been thinking..." You mutter lamely. In honesty, you have a better chance of getting some knowledge when your guardians are split up. It might be a little devious, but you want to know things, and you can tell they're withholding information which, in your opinion, is just as devious! "Mmm..." He rumbles, deep in his throat, and carefully shifts in his chair. "Well, what'd ye like to know?" Your brow lifts in shock. He's going to tell you about them, just like //that//?! "Well ... what were they like?" You begin, hope bleeding into your tone despite your most fervent efforts to stay calm. Conflict passes over his wind-worn features, and he chews his lip before responding: "In truth, $callenChild, we didn't know them for very long at all. T'was only a few moments, where ye were left on our step, before they were gone. We promised to protect you, not knowin' if they'd ever be back." Uncle Callen speaks slowly. His words are carefully considered, and the realization that he's //still// holding back information makes your heart lance with something wriggling and ugly. There's a silent apology in his eyes--he knows it too. "Can you at least tell me what they look like?" You ask, eyes wide and pleading. He swallows thickly, taking a moment to look away as if in recollection. "Yes, I--I think I remember, $callenChild." His gaze turns back to you, studying your features closely. "Ye've got $eyecolour eyes, just like yer mother and ... when ye're concentratin', like when studyin' or practicing yer stances, I see yer father's look. I don't remember 'em well, $callenChild, but I see more an' more of the two in you every passin' day." [[🐺++ "Thank you." You respond, grateful for some semblance of information on them.|Chap2Scene77bCal1][$callenClose to $callenClose + 4]] [[🐺-- "You're still not telling me things." You scowl. Why won't he just tell you?!|Chap2Scene77bCal2][$callenClose to $callenClose - 4]]

You take the moment of silence to look around Sam's newly-furnished bedroom. It's similar in size to your own, though the layout is a little different. It is painfully obvious he hasn't finished unpacking--there are several still-shut crates strewn about amongst what Sam must have deemed important to open. "What d'you think?" He flumps down next to you again while gesturing with a lazy hand to the entire, slightly messy, room. [["It's like my room, but a bit different," you muse.|Chap2Scene76a]] [["...It's a room." You shrug. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2Scene76b][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 1]] [["Why is it still messy?" You ask.|Chap2Scene76c]]

"...That a good thing?" Sam asks, eyes wide with expectation. [[🌞+ You nod. "I like it!"|Chap2Scene77a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[You shrug. "It's fine. It's just a room, right?"|Chap2Scene77b]]

His usual grin settles on his cheery face. "Glad to hear! I bet yours is nice too, then. I'll have to see it sometime, yeah?" <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your mouth goes dry. Just like that? "Y-yeah," you agree, "you could."<<else>><<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"That'd be fun." you agree.<<else>>"Maybe..." You tacitly agree.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene78]]

Sam's face goes blank as he considers what you said. "Guess so ... I suppose it'd look pretty boring if you had one that looked the same! I'll have to see yours sometime, yeah?" <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your mouth goes dry. Just like that? "Y-yeah," you agree, "you could."<<else>><<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"That'd be fun." you agree.<<else>>"Maybe..." You tacitly agree.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene78]]

<<set $samTalk1 to "no">><<set $samTalk2 to "no">><<set $samTalk3 to "no">>"Hey, so..." Sam begins, turning from one topic to the next in a heartbeat, "you're the guest, and guests get 'caller's privilege' where I come from! D'you know what that means?" <<if $volatile >= 50>>"Pff. Yeah, I do." You gloat, a little defensively. Abrian culture isn't something you're particularly well-read on, and you maybe don't //entirely// get some of the terms.<<else>>"Sort of?" You hesitate. Abrian culture isn't something you're particularly well-read on, and you don't //entirely// get some of the terms.<</if>> "Well, it means that //you//," he pokes your clothed arm, readily giving you an explanation whether or not you wanted one, "are an honoured guest here. And we've gotta treat you like one!" You just nod along, waiting to see where he's going with this tirade. Sam leaps up off the bed //again//, making a strange symbol over his heart with his right hand. His thumb and first two fingers make a clawed pose, while his other two fingers fold beneath his hand so they're hidden. "In the name of the Three Sovereigns, I ask that you ... choose what we do first!" He affects a comically-deep tone, like you've heard officials use at important events when introducing noble families, before returning to his regular giggly voice when he reveals what he wants you to do. Sam pulls his curled fingers across his chest quickly, in a sort of clawing salute, and smiles. <<if $chap2BringGift == "yes">>You remember that you have the gift given to you earlier today, still in its box. Maybe he'd like to see it? Though, there are plenty of other things to do as well...<<elseif $chap2BringGift == "yesSam">>You remember that you have the gift given to you earlier today, still in its box. You //did// intend on showing it off to him, but there's plenty of other things to do as well...<<else>>You think long and hard about what you'd like to do...<</if>> <<if $chap2SamShowGift == "yes">>//Choice unavailable.//<<else>><<if $chap2BringGift == "yes" or $chap2BringGift == "yesSam">>[[Show him the gift you got.|Chap2Scene79a][$chap2SamShowGift to "yes"]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>><</if>> <<if $chap2SamPlay == "yes">>//Choice unavailable.//<<else>>[[You point at an assortment of toys and games laid haphazardly on the floor. "Can we play?"|Chap2Scene79b][$chap2SamPlay to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2SamTalk == "yes">>//Choice unavailable.//<<else>>[["Let's talk!" You offer.|Chap2Scene79c][$chap2SamTalk to "yes"]]<</if>> [[You're actually feeling a bit tired. "Could I have a rest?" (Continue)|Chap2Scene79d]]

Sam's eyes scrunch up. "You're right. D'you //like// it, though?" [[🌞+ You nod. "It's nice!"|Chap2Scene77a2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[You shrug. "Like I said. It's a room."|Chap2Scene77b2]]

Sam's face goes blank as he considers what you said. "Guess so ... Hey, yours must look like this too, right? I'll have to see it sometime, yeah?" <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your mouth goes dry. Just like that? "Y-yeah," you agree, "you could."<<else>><<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"That'd be fun." you agree.<<else>>"Maybe..." You tacitly agree.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene78]]

His usual grin settles on his cheery face. "Glad to hear! I bet yours is pretty similar, right? I'll have to see it sometime, yeah?" <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your mouth goes dry. Just like that? "Y-yeah," you agree, "you could."<<else>><<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"That'd be fun." you agree.<<else>>"Maybe..." You tacitly agree.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene78]]

Sam throws his head back and laughs. "I asked you first! And it's like this 'cause we've been busy doin' other stuff! We couldn't find the eating stuff at first, y'know! We were scared it got left at home--er, our old home." He smiles, but it falls flat. [[🌞+ You nod. "Well, I like it!"|Chap2Scene77a2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[You shrug. "Well, I think it's fine. It's just a room."|Chap2Scene77b2]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Do you want to see the gift I got from my Aunt Sonia?"<<else>>"Do you want to see the gift I got from my Uncle Callen?"<</if>> You ask, pointing to the box you put safely away atop one of the various crates in Sam's bedroom. Sam stares curiously at your boxed-up gift. "I //was// wondering what it was..." You hoist yourself up and off the bed to grab the box, and Sam sidles up to you for a closer look. <<if $samRomance == 2>>Your knees bump together, and he shifts away as if burned by your proximity, smiling apologetically. You just nod quickly and turn your attention back to the box, hoping he can't see the <<if $skintone == "pale" or $skintone == "rosy" or $skintone == "warm" or $skintone == "medium" or $skintone == "olive">>flush blooming in your cheeks.<<else>>little droplets of sweat on your brow at the sudden contact.<</if>><<elseif $samRomance == 1>>Your knees bump together, and the boy giggles, making them bump again as if you're having a knee-fight. Once he sees you're not really joining in, he stops. "Sorry." He says, through giggles, apparently ignoring the <<if $skintone == "pale" or $skintone == "rosy" or $skintone == "warm" or $skintone == "medium" or $skintone == "olive">>flush blooming in your cheeks.<<else>>little droplets of sweat on your brow at the sudden contact.<</if>><<else>>Your knees bump together, and the boy giggles, making them bump again as if you're having a knee-fight. <<if $samRelationship > 50>><<if $cold < 50>>You chuckle at his antics, and bash your knees together until you're both slightly sore.<<else>>You roll your eyes at his antics, but bash your knees together until you're both slightly sore.<</if>><<else>>You give him an odd look, and he stops after a moment. "Sorry." He says, through giggles.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2ShowGift1]]

"Oh, yes!" The boy shifts off the bed, skipping over to the scattered assortment of games and toys he has--there are some you recognize, but some of them look strange. <<if $cautious >= 55>>You shuffle around some of the pieces, settling yourself carefully on the soft rug next to Sam.<<elseif $cautious <= 54 and $cautious >= 45>>You move around the pieces as best you can, settling yourself on the soft rug next to Sam.<<else>>You almost stumble over a few of the pieces as you clumsily follow Sam. He grimaces as you nearly fall, but gives a relieved little sigh once you don't. You settle on the soft rug next to him after a few hiccups.<</if>> "Which of these d'you know?" He asks, showing you a few of the games scattered on the rug. There are quite a lot, with rules and pieces you know nothing about, but a pretty-looking chess board with delicately carved pieces sparks your interest. [["Can we play chess?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79b1]]

Sam giggles, lifting his legs to sit cross-legged on his bed while inviting you to do the same. He doesn't seem bothered that your fancy shoes are now on his bed. He leans forward with his chin in his hands, wearing an eager expression. "What about?" <<if $samTalk1 == "no">>[[Him.|Chap2Scene79c1][$samTalk1 to "yes"]]<<else>>//Already chosen.//<</if>> <<if $samTalk2 == "no">>[[You.|Chap2Scene79c2][$samTalk2 to "yes"]]<<else>>//Already chosen.//<</if>> [[You're done talking.|Chap2Scene80c]]

He smirks lightly. "Me? What d'you want to know?" <<if $c2talk1s == "y">><<else>>[["Well, what do you like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1a]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk2s == "y">><<else>>[["Do you like it here so far?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1b]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk3s == "y">><<else>>[["What's your father like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1c]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk4s == "y">><<else>>[["Do you miss your home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1d]]<</if>> [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c]]

<<if $cold >= 50>>You halt in your conversation, not entirely sure //what// you want to talk about. But Sam's quick to offer a solution. "I wanna know more about you, $samNick!"<<else>>"How about you ask me some questions, first?" You offer. "Oh, yes!" Sam grins, "I was wantin' to ask you stuff, anyway!"<</if>> <<if $c2talk1y == "y">><<else>>[[He asks you about your hobbies.|Chap2Scene79c2a]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk2y == "y">><<else>>[[He asks you about Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene79c2b]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk3y == "y">><<else>>[[He asks you about being a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene79c2c]]<</if>> [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c]]

Sam lets out an accidental giggle. "Really, you wanna //sleep//?" <<if $volatile >= 55>>You cross your arms. "Well, I did a lot today!" You huff defensively. "I had training this morning //and// then everything happened with you afterwards."<<else>>You nod sheepishly. "I'm tired. I had training this morning //and// everything that happened with you today."<</if>> He considers your point and giggles again. "Alright, I get your point. Sometimes I'd fall asleep during supper an' pa would have to carry me to bed. D'you wanna lie down on mine?" You look over at the plush bed and nod quickly. Oh, yes. Sam decides to lay down with you, peering over at you with a smile in his eyes. "Comfy?" <<if $sarcastic >= 50>>"It's like I'm lying on //nails//." You whisper, and he snickers along with you.<<else>>"Yeah..." You murmur, already settling in.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene81]]

//You keep a close eye on Rion as the party progresses, ignoring drunken patrons as they dance around with giggling courtesans. Some glance at you uneasily, your intimidating stature obviously unsettling them, though some glance at you with something akin to hunger in their eyes, which you promptly ignore with a slight frown. Such things are a distraction--and you will not be distracted. It is not your nature. Rion smiles, sat at the centre of a long table in the middle of a raised section of the open-air building, backlit by a soft glow. The carved marble pillars behind them extend high into the sky, supporting a half-open ceiling through which the bright half-moon shines. They chatter and laugh with various clan leaders, leaning forward intently and listening when someone speaks to them and gathering hearty helpings of food--though not so much as to seem greedy. They slyly check the others' plates before grabbing any more, you notice. ''Nothing shall trouble us again. I will build our dream, my friend.'' Those words, spoken with such conviction and self-assuredness that you hadn't dared to do anything other than agree with them, bounce around your mind with an intensity unlike anything you've remembered from Rion's showy speeches. They meant it. They truly meant what they said to you. Your grip around your weapon tightens, calloused fingers scrunching around the worn rope that encircles the weapon's thick wooden shaft. A piecemeal weapon; a thick-bladed sword combined with the broken shaft of your commander's pike. It was too big for you when you built it, but you've grown into it. It was built on the battlefield, like you. Your eyes run up the tarnished surface of the curved blade, stopping at the insignia near the tip. A bird rising with a half-sun over the horizon, Rion's personal crest they adopted once all this ... business began. You asked them to burn it into the metal when you swore yourself to their cause, and they did so with the solemnity of a funeral procession. The steel had burned hotter than anything you'd ever seen before, but cooled quickly. When once you had fought for money, you now fight for Rion's dream--a far worthier thing. Your thoughts are washed away by light footsteps that come from behind. A slight leftward tilt of your head has the approaching figure halt in their tracks. "My apologies, I meant not to startle--" The voice is light, with a curious accent. Not a native speaker of your tongue, evidently. "You did not." You affirm, turning fully to get a look at them. ''Oh, fuck--'' Your eyes widen some, and you stand straighter. There's a burn developing in your fingers, so you loosen your grip on the swordspear only to feel the thing almost slip from your grasp. With an undiginified scrambling, you regain control of the weapon as you feel your face and nose flush with heat. "Are you alright?" She asks, innocently peering up at you. You lock eyes with her, your brown-black clashing against her blue-green. "Yes, I ... I have imbibed tonight, is all." You mutter listlessly, unable to come up with an answer that makes any such sense. She tugs on a ringlet of reddish hair. Another curious thing--you had thought it brown in the dim light you last saw her in. Such pigments are not seen in these lands, she must be a foreigner. That explains the name, at least. "I see..." She breathes, "Well, I hope you are feeling alright? I am--" "Efinia." You speak for her, and her eyes that had gazed elsewhere lock onto yours once more with a questioning glance. "You knew me?" "I know many. You joined our band some two weeks ago, at the port town," you answer defensively, "such is my role as a defender..." Her lips curl up in a silly smile. "A guard was drinking?" She looks around at nothing in particular, whispering, "Is it truly safe here?" A jolt of indignance shoots through you. "Of ''course'' it is--" She holds up her hands placatingly, laughing--a light, pleasing sound. A laugh you might hear once and remember for ten years, knowing exactly who it came from were you to hear it across a crowded room. "I jest, guard." She giggles. "This would be the safest place in all the world with those such as you here, drink or no drink!" She smiles winningly, subtly appraising your armour-bound form. "You tease." You mutter, looking sullenly down and away from her sea-coloured eyes. "Hmm..." She makes a noise in the back of her throat, considering her actions. Her white-gold dress, made of simple cloth wreathed in sparse adornments, swishes around her ankles as she bounces on her feet. "I suppose I do. Apologies again, perhaps I might show my regret, [[by asking you to dance?|Chap2Interlude2]]

//You're deathly still for a moment. "A... dance?" "You are very attentive, guard." She teases once more, smiling slyly when you scowl again. "Why?" You ask suspiciously, gaze darting to Rion, who is neck-deep in conversation with a particularly animated woman. "Did someone ask you to?" Efinia's gaze follows your own, landing on the unaware Rion. "You think the Sunbird asked me to dance with you?" She questions uncertainly, as if you're making a joke at her expense. You grunt, unsure. You never saw her with them, but your scrutiny may have faltered once. "I will assume that is a no, guard." She smiles again. "Stop calling me that..." You mumble, chewing your lip slightly. This is embarrassing. You've felled foes the size of boulders, but this young lady who barely comes up to your chest has you stammering like a damned child. "If you tell me your name, and give me this one dance, I just might." It would seem that this ... teasing, is her way of ingratiating herself to others. It is... not ineffective. After a moment of contemplation, you nod. "Very well. It is only fair, of course. I am Druso'Kenis." You say with a stiff bow. "Well met, son of nobody." She replies with an equally stilted air of propriety, though you suspect she's not being serious. "You know the meaning of my mat-name?" You ask, shocked. She smirks wryly. "I am foreign, but I'm no foreigner. Your peoples' custom is to give the latter part of the name to one's mother, yes? Kenis means nobody, if my language teacher was correct..." She trails off uncertainly. You nod softly. "You are correct. I knew not my mother, nor my father..." It is your turn to trail off, not wishing the conversation to turn somber. She nods understandingly, and doesn't say anything else on the matter. "And you?" You dare to ask, "Is Efinia your only name?" She shrugs lightly. "My people do not place such import on names. Efinia I am, Efinia I was. Efinia I will be. 'Efi', if we're friends." "Very well." "Well, now we know one another's names, perhaps it might be time for our apology dance?" She sticks a dainty hand out, offering it to you. "Will you dance with me, Druso? The lyre is playing a tune fit for a beginner." "I have danced before." You grumble, moving to clip your swordspear to your back. "We will see!" Efinia replies with a giggle, watching with as much anticipation as you as your hand moves to clasp hers. [[Next|Chap2Interlude3]]

//Later... "As a dancer, you are not so terrible. The height difference was barely an issue." Efinia smiles at you from across the empty table. Many of the lights at the gathering have dimmed and most of the activity now settles around Rion's table, affording the two of you a moment of privacy. Rion catches your eye from across the expansive room, and you think you spot the barest hint of a cheeky, proud smile and a nod before they turn back to their cohort. "Thank you." You respond stiffly, eyes downcast. She tilts her head slightly, a cheeky smirk forming. "Though, as a conversationalist there is ''much'' work to be done." You clutch your arms together, slumping forward in your seat. "I apologise. This ... is not my expertise." She smiles sympathetically. "What is?" You blink, sitting up straigher as you consider the question. To her credit, Efinia does not laugh, fixing you with a scrutinous look, like she's studying you. What is she thinking of? "I suppose ''this'' is." You reply lamely, tilting your head left and right to indicate towards the party. "I guard Rion--The Sunbird, and make sure they're safe in these public gatherings." "That cannot have been the only thing in your life." She says. "I find it difficult to imagine one such as you having lived a life comprised only of mere bodyguarding." Your eyes narrow. [["How about you speak, now? Is that not fair?"|Chap2Interlude4]]

<<set $c2talk1s to "y">>He smiles like you've just asked him the most obvious thing in the world. "I like exploring, you saw that! That forest's bigger than it looks from the outside, isn't it?" You nod, <<if $chap2Forest == "excited">>smiling at the memory of the place. It was quite fun to get lost in, for a while.<<else>>shivering at the memory of the place. It wasn't fun at all to get lost in.<</if>> "Oh!" He starts, "I like dogs too, but I didn't even see //one// here, why's that?" You hum, mimicking Uncle Callen for a moment. "The city guard doesn't like animals being here." His smile drops some, almost turning into a pout. "That's mean. Dogs're the best, I used to know this one at home when I was little, I could ride him like a horse!" He giggles. "But then he started gettin' older and his owner wouldn't let me no more..." <<if $c2talk2s == "y">><<else>>[["Do you like it here so far?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1b]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk3s == "y">><<else>>[["What's your father like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1c]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk4s == "y">><<else>>[["Do you miss your home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1d]]<</if>> [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c]]

<<set $c2talk2s to "y">>The boy nods strongly, sending a cascade of shining curls into his eyes. He scrambles to get them out of his eyes before elaborating: "It's a bit small, but it's so wicked! The other Risen Cities I saw are mostly just temples an' stuff, this is like a //real// city in the sky! I even saw a sweet shop!" You gasp. <<if $cold >= 50>>"That's Lizzie's," you explain, "it's //really// good there."<<else>>"That's Lizzie's!" you exclaim, "it's //really// good there."<</if>> "We should go one day." Sam asserts, mind already made up on the place. His blue eyes shine with a keenness to go. You nod your agreement, but clarify: "We can only go with my Uncle Callen, for some reason Aunt Sonia doesn't like going in there anymore..." He scrunches his bubbly face up. "Why?" You just shrug, and prepare to ask another question. <<if $c2talk1s == "y">><<else>>[["Well, what do you like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1a]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk3s == "y">><<else>>[["What's your father like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1c]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk4s == "y">><<else>>[["Do you miss your home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1d]]<</if>> [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c]]

<<set $c2talk3s to "y">>He tilts his head. "My pa? He's the best!" He answers, simply. <<if $patient >= 50>>You nod understandingly. "I know you'd think //that//, but what's he //like//?"<<else>>You groan a little at his too-simple answer. "That's not what I meant! What's he //like//?"<</if>> Sam purses his lips in thought, flattening them into a thin pinkish line. "Well, he always prays before meals. Oh, he likes gettin' up //early//, like even before the sun's up sometimes. Says it's good to start a day before the Gods can, set a good example for 'em once they come back." He sighs in mock-exasperation. "He'd do this dance from where he grew up with my m--" He pauses, and his lips purse again. After a moment of looking at his hands, thumbs fiddling idly with one another, he looks up at you apologetically. "Nevermind..." Sensing that this topic is done, you think of what to ask next. <<if $c2talk1s == "y">><<else>>[["Well, what do you like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1a]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk2s == "y">><<else>>[["Do you like it here so far?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1b]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk4s == "y">><<else>>[["Do you miss your home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1d]]<</if>> [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c]]

<<set $c2talk4s to "y">>"Yeah!" Sam exclaims, without hesitation. "It's called Bivia, you heard of it?" You shake your head. If it was on any map of the Abrian Empire, you haven't seen it. The boy shrugs as a response, continuing unbothered: "I had loads of friends and it was really pretty there, an' there were loads of hills and a big forest nearby too! It even had a big lake for swimming and stuff in." He pauses, lost in thought. "Is ... there a lake here?" You ... actually don't know if there is. There is a reservoir, suited for supplying the city with water that's filtered and cleaned with big, whirring contraptions, but you don't know if it's alright to swim in. You tell Sam as such, and he slumps in disappointment. "Oh..." To avoid disappointing Sam further, you decide to ask another question. <<if $c2talk1s == "y">><<else>>[["Well, what do you like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1a]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk2s == "y">><<else>>[[Do you like it here so far?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1b]]<</if>> <<if $c2talk3s == "y">><<else>>[["What's your father like?" You ask.|Chap2Scene79c1c]]<</if>> [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c]]

Sam stretches out on the bed. "What now?" He looks a bit antsy, not yet satisfied with tonight's activities. <<if $chap2SamShowGift == "yes">>//Choice unavailable.//<<else>><<if $chap2BringGift == "yes" or $chap2BringGift == "yesSam">>[[Show him the gift you got.|Chap2Scene79a][$chap2SamShowGift to "yes"]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>><</if>> <<if $chap2SamPlay == "yes">>//Choice unavailable.//<<else>>[[You point at an assortment of toys and games laid haphazardly on the floor. "Can we play?"|Chap2Scene79b][$chap2SamPlay to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2SamTalk == "yes">>//Choice unavailable.//<<else>>[["Let's talk!" You offer.|Chap2Scene79c][$chap2SamTalk to "yes"]]<</if>> [[You're actually feeling a bit tired. "Could I have a rest?" (Continue)|Chap2Scene79d]]

<<set $c2talk2y to "y">>"...Are you sure they're not married?" He whisper-shouts, as if one of them might hear and come stomping in. You're not sure which one he's more scared of hearing. Uncle Callen often gets irrationally angry when somebody suggests the idea, while Aunt Sonia just rolls her eyes or makes a joke about it. Sam would probably be more afraid of Aunt Sonia, though, given he doesn't know that about your other guardian. You have to laugh at the idea, and Sam huffs when you think he's joking. "They're not! They just act like that." You shrug. "They always have been, I think." <<if $callenClose >= 55 or $soniaClose >= 55>>It's something you like about them.<<else>>It's not exactly your favourite thing about them.<</if>> "How'd they meet?" He leans forward, curious. Now you frown. "They don't tell me much about that, they just say they met when Aunt Sonia was a girl, and Uncle Callen saved her from some bad people. After that she joined the Order." You wish you knew more, but they're really good at avoiding telling you things, in that way only adults are. You've probably learned more about their past from Archer than from either of them,<<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">> funnily enough.<<else>>annoyingly.<</if>> Sam looks awestruck. "It's like from stories ... I bet it'd make a good story if one of 'em ever wrote it down!" "Then I'd find out more, too!" You agree. Sam gets ready to ask another question. [[He asks you about your hobbies.|Chap2Scene79c2a]] [[He asks you about being a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene79c2c]] [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c]]

<<set $c2talk1y to "y">>"What d'you like to do, $samNick?" He leans forward, curious. <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>[["I like to draw! I even got some pencils today."|ChapScene79c2a1][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $c2talky1 == 1>><<else>>[["I like to draw."|ChapScene79c2a2][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky2 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing outside."|Chap2Scene79c2a3]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky3 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing games."|Chap2Scene79c2a4]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky4 == 1>><<else>>[["I like reading."|Chap2Scene79c2a5]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky5 == 1>><<else>>[["I like training."|Chap2Scene79c2a6]]<</if>>

<<set $c2talk3y to "y">><<if $samKnowsBW == "no">>"So..." Sam begins, drawing circles in the bedsheet with idle hands, "why didn't you tell me you were gonna be a Bladeweaver?" <<if $chap2BWExcited == "no" or $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>[["Because I don't know if I even want to be one." You lament.|Chap2Scene79c2ca]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> [[You shrug. "I didn't want you to look at me differently."|Chap2Scene79c2cb]] [["It's all people ever talk about when they find out. I'm more than that!" You huff, annoyed. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene79c2cc][$volatile to $volatile + 1]]<<else>>"So..." Sam begins, drawing circles in the bedsheet with idle hands, "what d'you think it'll be like, bein' a Bladeweaver?" <<if $chap2BWExcited == "no">>[["Probably bad." You lament.|Chap2Scene79c2cd]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>[["Honestly? I don't know." You hum.|Chap2Scene79c2ce]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>[["I'm so excited!" You cheer.|Chap2Scene79c2cf]] [[You smile bashfully. "Good, I think?"|Chap2Scene79c2cg]]<<else>>//Choices unavailable.//<</if>><</if>>

<<set $c2talky1 = 1>>Sam's eyes widen. "Really? <<if $chap2BringGift == "yes" or $chap2BringGift == "yesSam">>Is that what's in your little box?"<<else>>"Ooh!" Sam exclaims, eyes wide. "I'm not any good at drawin'. You'll have to show me some of yours sometimes!"<</if>> "Maybe..." You respond. Sam giggles. "Great!" <<if $c2talky1 == 1>><<else>>[["I like to draw."|ChapScene79c2a2][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky2 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing outside."|Chap2Scene79c2a3]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky3 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing games."|Chap2Scene79c2a4]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky4 == 1>><<else>>[["I like reading."|Chap2Scene79c2a5]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky5 == 1>><<else>>[["I like training."|Chap2Scene79c2a6]]<</if>> [[And that's it.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

<<set $c2talky1 = 1>>"Ooh!" Sam exclaims, eyes wide. "I'm not any good at drawin'. You'll have to show me some of yours some time!" "Maybe..." You respond. He smiles. "Great!" <<if $c2talky1 == 1>><<else>>[["I like to draw."|ChapScene79c2a2][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky2 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing outside."|Chap2Scene79c2a3]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky3 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing games."|Chap2Scene79c2a4]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky4 == 1>><<else>>[["I like reading."|Chap2Scene79c2a5]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky5 == 1>><<else>>[["I like training."|Chap2Scene79c2a6]]<</if>> [[And that's it.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

<<set $c2talky2 = 1>>"Ha!" Sam laughs. "Me too! I bet we'll be seein' a lot of eachother, then!" <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>[["I like to draw, too! I even got some pencils today."|ChapScene79c2a1][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $c2talky1 == 1>><<else>>[["I like to draw."|ChapScene79c2a2][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky2 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing outside."|Chap2Scene79c2a3]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky3 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing games."|Chap2Scene79c2a4]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky4 == 1>><<else>>[["I like reading."|Chap2Scene79c2a5]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky5 == 1>><<else>>[["I like training."|Chap2Scene79c2a6]]<</if>> [[And that's it.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

<<set $c2talky3 = 1>>Sam perks up. "Ooh, I've got a //bunch// of board games. I bet you've got some I don't!" <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>[["I like to draw, too! I even got some pencils today."|ChapScene79c2a1][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $c2talky1 == 1>><<else>>[["I like to draw."|ChapScene79c2a2][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky2 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing outside."|Chap2Scene79c2a3]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky3 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing games."|Chap2Scene79c2a4]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky4 == 1>><<else>>[["I like reading."|Chap2Scene79c2a5]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky5 == 1>><<else>>[["I like training."|Chap2Scene79c2a6]]<</if>> [[And that's it.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

<<set $c2talky4 = 1>>Sam's nose scrunches up in abject disdain. "Books're boring." He pauses. "Uh--to me, if you like 'em that's fine!" <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>[["I like to draw, too! I even got some pencils today."|ChapScene79c2a1][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $c2talky1 == 1>><<else>>[["I like to draw."|ChapScene79c2a2][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky2 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing outside."|Chap2Scene79c2a3]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky3 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing games."|Chap2Scene79c2a4]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky4 == 1>><<else>>[["I like reading."|Chap2Scene79c2a5]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky5 == 1>><<else>>[["I like training."|Chap2Scene79c2a6]]<</if>> [[And that's it.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

<<set $c2talky5 = 1>>Sam looks interested. "Like, with swords an' stuff?" You shake your head. "It's more than that. $mentorTermChild makes me do lots of things: boxing, wrestling, strength training, obstacle courses. Things like that." You explain, while Sam listens with rapt attention. "S'like bein' a soldier..." It's hard work and, even though you like doing it, you wonder how much more difficult //real// Bladeweaver training will end up being when it's time. Maybe this is just preparing you for all that. <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>[["I like to draw, too! I even got some pencils today."|ChapScene79c2a1][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $c2talky1 == 1>><<else>>[["I like to draw."|ChapScene79c2a2][$ch2drawtalk to "1"]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky2 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing outside."|Chap2Scene79c2a3]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky3 == 1>><<else>>[["I like playing games."|Chap2Scene79c2a4]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky4 == 1>><<else>>[["I like reading."|Chap2Scene79c2a5]]<</if>> <<if $c2talky5 == 1>><<else>>[["I like training."|Chap2Scene79c2a6]]<</if>> [[And that's it.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

Sam smiles fondly. "I got this for my birthday last year. Pa tries to play with me lots but he doesn't really have the time, so I'd just ask people around town to play it with me!" He chatters while setting up the pieces--white for you, black for him. "You can play white 'cause you're the guest." He adds after a beat, "//And// I don't know how good you are." <<if $chap1Hobby == "games">>You are quite good at chess, in all honesty. Having played since you were a young $child means you've got a good knowledge of the game.<<elseif $chap1Hobby != "games" and $intelligence >= 2>>You are quite good at chess, in all honesty. You picked it up quickly, gaining a good knowledge of how it all works.<<else>>You honestly aren't sure of your chess skill. You've played a few times but have never been the best at it.<</if>> Once the game's set up, it's time for you to make the first move. [[Next|Chap2Scene79b1a]]

"Really?!" Sam's eyes widen in shock, and his mouth hangs open in surprise. "Why //wouldn't// you wanna be one? //I'd// wanna be one, and I bet you could swing a sword better'n me with a blindfold on!" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He obviously doesn't know about your training session earlier today, but that was a surprisingly good guess.<<else>>Uncle Callen doesn't have you doing anything like that in training, but that's a decent guess.<</if>> You slump, not //really// wanting to tell him more. There's a reason you didn't say anything in the first place! "Could we just not talk about it, please?" Sam's surprised frown shifts into something more sympathetic, and he nods hesitantly. "Yeah, sorry..." [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

"Differently?" Sam laughs, "You look just the same to me! Maybe a bit more amazing, 'cause Bladeweavers are //super//!" You shrug. "Most people start thinking I'm different because of it, like I don't know how to do regular kid things..." He snorts, waving away your worries. "So what if you're a bit different? That's a good thing, $firstname! Plus, nobody'll //ever// mess with you once you know all the Bladeweaver stuff." You laugh. "I guess so." He beams, proud of his little speech. [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

Sam looks a little shocked at your outburst but nods in apparent understanding. "My pa always gets mad that people just talk to him about his job an' stuff, too. He said he was jealous of me once, 'cause I had a bunch of friends and all he had were 'acquaintances'." He makes quoting symbols with his fingers when saying that last word. You scowl. "Lots of people just think that's all I want to do<<if $chap2BWExcited == "no">>, even though I don't want to do it<<else>><</if>>..." He smiles sympathetically, bouncing on the bed a little as he shifts closer. "I don't think that's all you are, $firstname. Even if you had told me in the forest, I would've thought you're just as good as you are now." You laugh. "Thanks, Sam." He beams, proud of his little speech. [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

Sam balks at your dismissal. "You think it'll be bad? Then why're you doin' it?" You shrug. "It's what Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia want me to do, and apparently I //have// to do it until I'm an adult, then I can choose what I want." "Huh." Is all he says, scratching his cheek in confusion. "Well, I think you should be able to do whatever you want, $firstname. Pa always says I could do anything, not just be his apprentice when I'm older. I'm not sure yet, though! Maybe we can start a shop, or something." He giggles. You laugh. "Maybe." He beams, proud of his little speech. [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

Sam balks at your uncertain answer. "Really?" You nod. "I don't know what it'll be like until I actually //start//." "Hmm..." He ponders what you said for a moment. "Well, it's fine if you haven't made up your mind //now//, then! Pa always says I've got plenty of time to figure out what I wanna do, and the same goes for you, right? Maybe you'll love it one day, maybe you'll hate it." He shrugs casually, starting to smile. "I say just wait an' see!" You laugh. "Okay, Sam." He beams, proud of his little speech. [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

He beams right alongside you. "Good! I bet you're //well// excited about gettin' some greensteel one day! I saw a knife made of it once, it was really shiny." "It all looks like that, usually." You confirm. Oftentimes Empyrean steel can vary slightly in appearance though the hue of the metal is quite consistent, if not its texture and sheen. It all depends on the forgemaster, really. "Do theirs?" He asks, nodding towards his door to reference Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia. "Aunt Sonia's sword is a little shinier," you muse, "but Uncle Callen's poleaxe was harder to make, so it's not as easy to make it look good." He nods fervently, absorbing your superior knowledge like a particularly vocal sponge. "Amazing..." [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

He beams at your positive response. "Good! I bet you're //well// excited about gettin' some greensteel one day! I saw a knife made of it once, it was really shiny." "It all looks like that, usually." You confirm. Oftentimes Empyrean steel can vary slightly in appearance, though the hue of the metal is quite consistent, if not its texture and sheen. It all depends on the forgemaster, really. "Do theirs?" He asks, nodding towards his door to reference Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia. "Aunt Sonia's sword is a little shinier," you muse, "but Uncle Callen's poleaxe was harder to make, so it's not as easy to make it look good." He nods fervently, absorbing your superior knowledge like a particularly vocal sponge. "Amazing..." [[Talk about something else.|Chap2Scene79c2]]

"Once ye're older, we'll tell ya more, $callenChild. Consider it a promise, eh?" He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his cheeks. "Alright..." You mutter, uncertain but grateful for future context. "Now," he shuffles in his seat, "is there anythin' else ye'd like to talk about?" <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You were scared for Aunt Sonia, today.|Chap2Scene76aCal][$Chap2Ask1 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask3 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about your future, as a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene76cCal][$Chap2Ask3 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about Sam.|Chap2Scene76dCal][$Chap2Ask4 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes" or $chap2Ask2 == "yes" or $chap2Ask3 == "yes" or $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>[[You've asked every question you want to.|Chap2Scene77Cal]]<<else>><</if>>

He winces, but holds firm. "I'm sorry, $callenChild. One day soon, we'll tell ya more. That's a promise, eh?" You cross your arms, as silly as it might make you look in your laid position. "I'll believe //that// when I hear it." "I know it's irritatin'." Is all he says in response. "Now, is there anythin' else ye'd like to talk about?" <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You were scared for Aunt Sonia, today.|Chap2Scene76aCal][$Chap2Ask1 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask3 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about your future, as a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene76cCal][$Chap2Ask3 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about Sam.|Chap2Scene76dCal][$Chap2Ask4 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes" or $chap2Ask2 == "yes" or $chap2Ask3 == "yes" or $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>[[You've asked every question you want to.|Chap2Scene77Cal]]<<else>><</if>>

"Yes, $callenChild." Uncle Callen replies like you've asked him if you could burn all your clothes and live in the wilderness. "Though, I think it's a good path for ya, and ye'll be well-prepared for the life." <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>"I was just asking," you clarify, "I don't think I want to..." "Alright, $callenChild." He smiles, patting your shoulder.<<else>>"Just making sure," you clarify, "we'll see in the future..." "Aye, we will, $callenChild." He smiles wanly, patting your shoulder.<</if>> [["What will happen once I graduate? Will I be able to stay here?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal2]] [["Will I get to choose my weapon?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal3]] [[That's all you'd like to ask.|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

"Yes, $callenChild." Uncle Callen chuckles softly. "The Order'll accommodate yer wishes, especially since there's nobody speakin' for ya, save for me an' yer Aunt Sonia." He winks. You nod, relieved. "That's good, then..." [["Will I be able to leave the Order once I've graduated?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal1]] [["Will I get to choose my weapon?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal3]] [[That's all you'd like to ask.|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

He chuckles brightly. "Yer Aunt Sonia asked me that exact thing, when I had 'er inducted." <<if $patient > 50>>You patiently wait for him to elaborate.<<else>>You kick your legs up and down, making a soft thumping noise under your covers. "Come on, tell me..."<</if>> "Of course ye will, $callenChild. My axe, though, was a gift from //my// own teacher, she had it reworked to yield t'my touch. I actually used to train with the mace, but ye'll be trainin' with a weapon of yer choosin' right up until an Empyrean version's forged, come graduation." You're quiet, imagining what sorts of weapon you'll be able to wield in the future. Images of wielding two Empyrean swords at once flash in your mind, as fanciful (and impractical) as the idea may be, which Aunt Sonia drummed into your head countless times--though she also agrees that two weapons does look better than one. [["Will I be able to leave the Order once I've graduated?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal1]] [["What will happen once I graduate? Will I be able to stay here?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cCal2]] [[That's all you'd like to ask.|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

//Her reddish-brown eyebrows lift in amusement--or shock, you're not exactly sure which. "So you ''do'' know how to have a conversation." "You are not as you appear, good lady. Your wit matches any insufferable politician I've come across." You can't help the smirk that creeps onto your face, nor the dull tightness forming in your chest. "Appearances can be deceiving." She giggles. "Well ... I was a priestess in my homeland. For a time I served Pacen, until I grew ... discontent with the happenings of my homeland. Whispers of an Eastern saviour brought me here, whispers that our high masters ceaselessly dismissed. What a boon that I didn't listen, no?" She blinks slowly at the tightening of your fists on the table upon the mention of that name, and elaborates. "I was a healer. The divine power I was granted then was lost when I travelled to these lands." She says, with a look that is neither remorseful nor particularly pleased. "You speak as if a God's favour was something to be appreciated." You grunt. "The work was good, Druso." She says lowly. "I regret not the wounds I healed, nor the lives I saved. The Twelve may be rotten, but the ideals they embody are not all terrible. I would also remind you that Pacen does not participate in the warring, as the others do." You look sourly off to the side, not wishing to destroy the conversation. "A God is a God, regardless of how they garner worship, but very well..." "Would you do me the service of speaking more of yourself, hard as it may be?" She smiles again as she props her head up with her elbows on the table, fingers curling around her chin. "I grew up with Rion, in distant Ki'Inya." You begin, slow and stilted. Your past isn't something you oft speak of, nor is it something you particularly wish to recall. "I had been born on a battlefield, where my birth mother soon passed, or so I am told. A mercenary band found and raised me for a time, until I ... found my independence." Efinia is quiet, looking deep into your eyes whenever you dare to look at her. She is ... ''intense''. You can only imagine how people might have listened to her every word as a priestess, or told her their darkest and most terrible secrets. "Please continue if you feel able, Druso." She is deadly quiet, subdued even, despite the fire in her placid eyes. Hardly the cheeky young woman you'd been bantering with mere moments before. You nod slowly. "I found my way to an orphanage, where Rion lived. They had been born to a Liskiy mother, you see, though their father was Western." She frowns. "That is an issue?" "Unfortunately," you rumble. "Seen as a cursed half-blood, their mother abandoned them before they could scarcely walk. Even as a mercenary's runaway-boy, I was shown more respect by the townspeople I came across, and more sympathy by those who ran our orphanage." You speak deathly-quiet, unsure as to how Rion might react if they heard this. [[Next|Chap2Interlude4.5]]

<<if $chap1Hobby == "games">>Over the next while you do quite well for yourself. Sam plays very dynamically, making big plays in hopes of winning quickly. You're able to catch these, owing to your experience with the game, and by the end of your first match his brow is furrowed--though he's smiling. "You're good, $samNick." He breathes, shaking your hand formally once you have his king cornered. "Thanks, <<if $NickForSamCh2 == "yes">>$nickForSam." You giggle when you use his new nickname.<<else>>Sam." You giggle at how ruffled he looks upon his loss.<</if>> Of course, he requests a rematch, and your subsequent games go much the same way. By the end of it, Sam looks positively distraught, having only taken one out of six games from you. [[Next|Chap2Scene80c]]<<elseif $chap1Hobby != "games" and $intelligence >= 2>>Over the next while you do quite well for yourself. Sam plays very dynamically, making big plays in hopes of winning quickly. You're able to catch these, owing to your intrinsic skill with the game, and by the end of your first match his brow is furrowed--though he's smiling. "You're good, $samNick." He breathes, shaking your hand formally once you have his king cornered. "Thanks, <<if $NickForSamCh2 == "yes">>$nickForSam." You giggle when you use his new nickname.<<else>>Sam." You giggle at how ruffled he looks upon his loss.<</if>> Of course, he requests a rematch, and your subsequent games go much the same way. By the end of it, Sam looks positively distraught, having only taken one out of six games from you. [[Next|Chap2Scene80c]]<<else>>It ... doesn't go particularly well. Sam plays aggressively, making big plays that you don't see coming until your queen, bishops and knights sit across the board from you, huddled together like scared hostages. When he wins, he just smiles apologetically. "Sorry..." He says as he finally corners your king. Of course, he requests a rematch to try and give you some sort of redemption, and your subsequent games go much the same way. By the end of it, Sam looks positively apologetic, having only allowed you to win one out of six times--and that was because he hinted as to what he would do next. [[Next|Chap2Scene80c]]<</if>>

After a few minutes of quiet resting, you again hear a shuffling next to you and open your eyes. Sam's propped himself up on his elbows, stretched out on the bed adjacent to you. His mouth is a flattened line, accentuating the little dimples at each corner of it. <<if $samCh2Mad == "yes">>"$firstname, are you ... mad at me?" He asks, quiet and hesitant. "I saw how you were when you came in, an' I was just, well, wondering..." [["No," You lie, "I was just surprised at how warm it was." (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene81a][$honesty to $honesty - 2]] [["A little." You admit. "I got in trouble for walking back home with you." (Honesty +)|Chap2Scene81b][$honesty to $honesty + 2]]<<else>>"$firstname, do you ... do you want to be friends? Like, //friends//, friends?" He asks, quiet and earnest. "I know it's only been a day, but I'd like that..." [[🌞+ "I thought we already were friends?" You ask, smiling.|Chap2Scene81c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞+ "Duh, silly!" You giggle.|Chap2Scene81d][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[You shrug noncommittally. "I dunno yet."|Chap2Scene81e]]<</if>>

Sam looks earnestly at you for a moment, eyes shining as he considers your lie. "Alright..." He settles on saying, barely more than a mumble. He sniffs. "But if I ever //do// make you mad, tell me? I don't wanna make anybody mad, not ever." The shine in his eyes turns to a glisten around their edges, he's making a valiant effort not to let a tear or two slip out. This must be important to him, making sure you're okay. <<if $samRomance == 0>>[[🌞❤️+ It ignites something in you, a fondness for Sam that goes beyond what you might have initially felt. You feel warm. "I will."|Chap2Scene81a1R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1, $ch2SamCrushMoment to 2]]<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞❤️+ In that moment of quiet between you, something shifts in Sam's eyes: a fire similar to the one you feel when you think of him. "I will," you whisper.|Chap2Scene81a2R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1]]<</if>> [[🌞+ "I will." You assure.|Chap2Scene81a1][$samRelationship to #samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞+ "Don't worry." You smile. "You wouldn't make me mad, Sam."|Chap2Scene81a2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Oh, don't cry!" You panic.|Chap2Scene81a3]]

A tightness in your stomach and chest: it's like dread, but you don't want it to go away. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and turn your eyes away from Sam. "What's up?" He asks quietly, unsubtly wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "Nothing," you hiss, "I'm just sleepy..." Finally, Sam begins to smile again. "Alright, //sleepyhead//, I'll finally let you sleep, huh? See ya soooon!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Something imperceptible in Sam's expression shifts as you lock eyes, and a single thin tear falls from his eye. His mouth hangs slightly open, taking in your assurance. You shift a little closer to give some comfort to the conflicted boy. "You don't need to cry, there's nothing to be sad about..." "I--I know..." He murmurs, wiping away at his eyes with a sleeve, and leans into your touch slightly. "I just feel so stupid sometimes..." "I don't think you're stupid." You whisper, and he finally, miraculously, smiles once more. "Thanks, $samNick..." He flops down at your side, and the two of you share a giggle while preparing to rest. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

"You're sure?" He asks, voice wavering. "I can be pretty annoying..." "I'm sure." You smile assuringly. "Promise!" "We'll see, right?" He smirks. "Now try an' get some sleep, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam startles at your outburst and flinches away, quickly wiping his eyes. "I--I'm not! Promise! Look," he says, pointing to his now red-ringed eyes, "no tears, right?" A frown settles on your face. "I saw, Sam." He just shrugs. "Dunno what you're talking about, $samNick!" He punctuates his lie by sticking out his tongue. "Now get some sleep, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

"You sure?" Sam squeaks, not-quite assured of your vow. You nod, smiling. "I am." He unsubtly wipes at his eyes, then smiles again. "Okay ... you can get some sleep now, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam sputters. "Well--yeah, I guess, but I just wanted to be //sure//!" "Well, there you go." You giggle. "I think we're friends." The boy smiles toothily, gazing wondrously at the ceiling. "That's good ... I had lots of friends in Bivia, where I came from. But then we left, an' they all said they'd miss me." His tone turns more sombre with each word, and his smile thins. "I think I'll miss 'em, $firstname. Even with new friends here, it feels bad that I might never see them again at all." You don't know what to say, and just watch the boy's expression shift again and again. Sam shakes his head, finally. "Sorry, you don't wanna hear this stuff. I'm just being //stupid// again." He scowls, mostly at himself, and screws his eyes shut. <<if $samRomance == 0>>[[🌞❤️+ It ignites something in you, a fondness for Sam that goes beyond what you might have initially felt. You feel warm. "You're not stupid."|Chap2Scene81c1R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1, $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]]<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞❤️+ In that moment of quiet between you, something shifts in Sam's eyes: a fire similar to the one you feel when you think of him. "You're not stupid."|Chap2Scene81c2R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1]]<</if>> [[🌞+ "You're not stupid." You assure.|Chap2Scene81c1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞+ "Why do you think that'd make you stupid?"|Chap2Scene81c2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Oh, don't cry!" You panic.|Chap2Scene81c3]]

Sam snorts. "Just makin' sure!" "Well, there you go." You giggle. "I think we're friends." The boy smiles toothily, gazing wondrously at the ceiling. "That's good ... I had lots of friends in Bivia, where I came from. But then we left, an' they all said they'd miss me." His tone turns more sombre with each word, and his smile thins. "I think I'll miss 'em, $firstname. Even with new friends here, it feels bad that I might never see them again at all." You don't know what to say, and just watch the boy work through his feelings. Sam shakes his head, finally. "Sorry, you don't wanna hear this stuff. I'm just being //stupid// again." He scowls, mostly at himself, and screws his eyes shut. <<if $samRomance == 0>>[[🌞❤️+ It ignites something in you, a fondness for Sam that goes beyond what you might have initially felt. You feel warm. "You're not stupid."|Chap2Scene81c1R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1, $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]]<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞❤️+ In that moment of quiet between you, something shifts in Sam's eyes: a fire similar to the one you feel when you think of him. "You're not stupid."|Chap2Scene81c2R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1]]<</if>> [[🌞+ "You're not stupid." You assure.|Chap2Scene81c1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞+ "Why do you think that'd make you stupid?"|Chap2Scene81c2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Oh, don't cry!" You panic.|Chap2Scene81c3]]

His jaw trembles, and he bows his head. "Oh..." Is all he says, barely more than a murmur. "What's wrong?" You move yourself up slightly, wondering why that information would have him so down. When Sam looks back at you, unshed tears twinkle in his sky-hued eyes. "I was //stupid//, wasn't I? I messed things up for you, an--and now you //hate// me." He speaks the words as if they're immutable fact, like your mind's already made up on him. <<if $samRomance == 0>>[[🌞❤️+ It ignites something in you, a fondness for Sam that goes beyond what you might have initially felt. You feel warm. "I don't hate you, Sam."|Chap2Scene81b1R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1, $ch2SamCrushMoment to 1]]<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞❤️+ In that moment of quiet between you, you spot something in Sam's eyes: a fire similar to the one you feel when you think of him. "I couldn't ever hate you, Sam."|Chap2Scene81b2R][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1]]<</if>> [[🌞+ "I don't hate you." You assure.|Chap2Scene81b1][$samRelationship to #samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞+ "Why do you think I'd hate you for that?" You ask.|Chap2Scene81b2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Oh, don't cry!" You panic, not knowing what else to say.|Chap2Scene81b3]]

Willem raises an eyebrow, curious. "You think the marriage will not go well?" She shrugs, cup still in hand. "The girl's barely thirteen, and her husband-to-be is approaching his sixties. I'd question King Thibau's wisdom on the choice, but it's not //his// wisdom, is it?" He crosses his arms. "I had heard that Curina Cultros advised King Thibau on many facets, but his daughter's marriage, too?" "She's the one who had the King name his daughter heir in the first place. Who's to know what the succession is now, with her little brother's birth?" Sonia swings her cup around as she speaks, full of life. "If you ask me, that woman's got designs beyond 'serving the realm'." "I did not take you as a politically-interested person, in truth." Willem chuckles. "If things down there are in the shitter, it makes our job that much harder. We're warned against involving ourselves in political affairs, so a succession crisis is the last thing the Telfrini chapters of the Order want." "Forgive her. Sonia's a penchant for seein' the worst in things." Callen butts in, looking a bit exasperated at her scathing accusations. "A plot behind every smile, all that." "Besides //that//, it's not like there's exactly a shortage of old men courting young women these days. Just feels odd." She huffs, rolling her eyes. Callen laughs heartily. "Ye're just sayin' that 'cause //you// want to court 'em, lass!" "At least I'm young, Cal!" She protests. "I wouldn't be callin' thirty-five young, exactly..." She thumps his arm quickly, before he can dodge. "Says you." [[Next|Chap2WillemTalk2]]

"Y-you don't?" Sam stumbles on his words, so frantic with relief that he doesn't bother to speak properly. You shake your head, trying to ignore the bloom of //something// that grows in your chest. "I was mad, but that doesn't mean I hate you or anything. It's just something I felt in the moment, right? I don't think I'm mad //now//." He sniffs, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. "Right, that ... makes sense. Sorry for bein' stupid again..." You bump his shoulder. "It's not stupid to think about people." "Yeah..." He agrees quietly. "We should get some sleep, yeah? I bet you could use some, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam sniffs, bowing his head. "You're not bein' serious..." A drop falls from his face to the clean sheet below, wetting it. You pat his shoulder, and he lifts his head to look at you. "I am." Is all you say, rubbing his back soothingly. Something imperceptible in Sam's expression shifts as you lock eyes, and a single thin tear falls from his eye. His mouth hangs slightly open, taking in your assurance. You shift a little closer to give some comfort to the conflicted boy. "You don't need to cry, there's nothing to be sad about..." "I--I know..." He murmurs, wiping away at his eyes with a sleeve, and leans into your touch slightly. "I just feel so stupid sometimes..." "I don't think you're stupid." You whisper, and he finally, miraculously, smiles once more. "Thanks, $samNick..." He flops down at your side, and the two of you share a giggle while preparing to rest. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam looks fragile, like he might blow away like a dry leaf in the wind at your next words. "Really?" He squeaks, quiet and shaky. You nod softly. "I was mad, but that doesn't mean I hate you or anything. It's just something I felt in the moment, right? I don't think I'm mad //now//." He sniffs, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. "Right, that ... makes sense. Sorry for bein' stupid again..." You bump his shoulder. "It's not stupid to think about people." "Yeah..." He agrees quietly. "We should get some sleep, yeah? I bet you could use some, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam shrugs limply. "Cause," he wipes at his eyes with a sleeve, "people've said it before. That I mess stuff up, I--I never think about what I'm doin' until it's done, but I don't mean it! I'm not bad, honest! I just ... I don't even know..." You smile sympathetically. "Those people are silly, Sam! I don't think you're bad. I was mad, but that doesn't mean I hate you or anything. It's just something I felt in the moment, right? I don't think I'm mad //now//." He sniffs, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. "Right, that ... makes sense. Sorry for bein' stupid again..." You bump his shoulder. "It's not stupid to think about people." "Yeah..." He agrees quietly. "We should get some sleep, yeah? I bet you could use some, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam chews his lip, looking at you sidelong for a moment. "Right, that makes sense. It's only been a day right? There's plenty of time..." <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"Right!" You agree, settling back down to get some sleep.<<else>>"Mm-hm..." You non-committally agree, settling back down to get some sleep.<</if>> Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Elsewhere...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam almost scoffs. "You're just sayin' that." He shakes his head, denying your plea as simply as that. "I //mean// it, Sam!" You try again, making him look at you. You can feel a sudden heat rising in your cheeks, and turn your eyes away from him. "What's up?" He asks quietly, unsubtly wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "Nothing," you hiss, "I'm just sleepy..." Finally, Sam begins to smile again. "Alright, //sleepyhead//, I'll finally let you sleep, huh? See ya soooon!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam sniffs, bowing his head. "You barely even know me..." A drop falls from his face to the clean sheet below, wetting it. You pat his shoulder, and he lifts his head to look at you. "And I still think you aren't." Is all you say, rubbing his back soothingly. Something imperceptible in Sam's expression shifts as you lock eyes, and a single thin tear falls from his eye. His mouth hangs slightly open, taking in your assurance. You shift a little closer to give some comfort to the conflicted boy. "You don't need to cry, there's nothing to be sad about..." "I--I know..." He murmurs, wiping away at his eyes with a sleeve, and leans into your touch slightly. "I just feel so //stupid// sometimes..." "Stop saying that." You whisper, and he finally, miraculously, smiles once more. "Thanks, $samNick..." He flops down at your side, and the two of you share a giggle while preparing to rest. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam sniffs. "You barely even //know// me." "I //mean// it, Sam!" You try again, making him look at you. Something in your eyes, a sort of conviction, manages to assuage his doubts, and a soft smile settles back on his face. "...Okay." He settles on saying after a moment. He doesn't quite believe it himself, but that's alright. You can think it enough for the two of you. He sniffs, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. "Sorry for bein' stupid again..." You bump his shoulder. "It's not stupid to be sad about things." "Yeah..." He agrees quietly. "We should get some sleep, yeah? I bet you could use some, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

Sam shrugs limply. "Cause," he wipes at his eyes with a sleeve, "people've said it before. That I mess stuff up, I--I never think about what I'm doin' until it's done, but I don't mean it! I'm not bad, honest! I just ... I don't even know..." You smile sympathetically. "Those people are silly, Sam! I don't think you're stupid. I've never gone anywhere different in my life, so I think you're pretty brave for coming here." He sniffs, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. "Right, that ... makes sense. Sorry for bein' stupid again..." You bump his shoulder. "It's not stupid to be sad about things." "Yeah..." He agrees quietly. "We should get some sleep, yeah? I bet you could use some, //sleepyhead//!" He coos, flopping down at your side once more. Soon enough the realm of sleep takes you... [[Later...|Chap2GoHome]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen makes his way back inside Willem's home, entering the dining room once more with a warm greeting from his new neighbour. Sonia raises her cup, full of wine, in lieu of speaking. "Kid alright?" She asks, taking a soft, testing sip. "Aye," he replies, taking a seat again and looking into his own cup, which Sonia has filled for him, "a bit tired but I reckon $they'll be alright come tomorrow." "I am glad to hear it." Willem smiles. "Sonia and I were speaking of Princess Soleile's betrothal." "Telfrin's first king //consort// in a good few centuries, eh?"<<else>>Sonia ambles back into Willem's home, silently cursing her indulgence of the wine earlier. It //was// good wine, though. With $firstname abed, there's little reason to stop indulging now. Callen notices her entry first, smiling warmly with slightly pink cheeks. //Get drunk off of hot water, you would." She thinks. "Welcome back, lass!" He cheers. "Me an' Willem were talkin' about the most invigoratin' thing: //royal marriages//." Willem shakes his head with a smile, hand clasped around his cup. "I had heard talk of Princess Soleile's betrothal in Alposa, this morning, is all." "He'll be Telfrin's first king //consort// in a good few centuries. I'd say it's at least a //bit// interestin'." Callen says.<</if>> "He'll be dead before they can even //get// married..." Sonia mutters into her cup. [[Next|Chap2WillemTalk]]

Willem smiles, a barely-noticed upward tilt of the corners of his mouth. "Romance is a strange thing..." "Tell me about it." Sonia raises her cup morosely, taking a more sizable gulp than she previously dared to. "And what of the two of you? Are there others in your lives that you are fond of?" He asks, interest evident in his brown eyes. Callen shakes his head with a small smile. "I'm not so interested in all o' that: work just takes up too much of me time, an' it's never been somethin' I've really looked for. As a young lad I had a few betrothals suggested but all that ended once I joined the Order." Sonia shrugs noncommittaly. "I've had a few, uh, entanglements, but nothing really sticks. //Clearly//, it's because I'm just too in-demand." She smirks, though casts her eyes down at the table rather than at anyone in particular. Callen pats her back sympathetically. "I like to say that happiness chases this one, but she's just too damned fast for it." He says with a grin. "Ye'll find someone one day, lass. Or else I'm kickin' ya out." "I'm the only reason we can afford our house, Cal. Evict me at your peril." She challenges with a snort, shaking his hand off. [["What about you, Willem?" Callen asks.|Chap2WillemTalk3]]

The room goes quiet, and Willem coughs in surprise, staring into his folded arms for longer than he intends to. "Please forgive my vagueness, earlier. In truth, I spoke such as to not upset Samuel, for the true reason as to our leaving Abria was more of an ... escape." "What, you're fugitives?" Sonia has an eyebrow raised, more out of humoured surprise than proper shock. He smiles apologetically. "No, apologies--though I expect the local guard might be happy to not have to deal with Samuel anymore." "Sola's city guard might've met their match, eh?" Callen chuckles. "We shall see, shan't we?" Willem laughs with him. "Truly, though. My family is a small one, with few relatives I know in any great capacity. Earlier this year ... my wife passed away. She had caught a sickness in the months prior, and it progressed ... quickly." Sonia goes quiet, brows falling as her shoulders slump. "Gods. I'm sorry, Willem." "Samuel does not like to be reminded of it, so I try not to mention her. Once her ashes were spread and my affairs settled, I recognized that Abria, as it stands, is similarly rife with sickness. Corruption, rampant as you may well know, made my work difficult. So I sought opportunity elsewhere. Here." "Can't have been an easy decision." Sonia replies, tone flat. Willem sighs. "It was not. But, we make awful decisions for the good of our families. I made mine, and I will live with it." Callen chuckles, smiling widely at the other man. "Well, we're glad for the neighbours. Most o' the others won't speak to us most days." "As are we!. It is heartening to know Samuel has already made a little acquaintance of his own on his first day..." <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"They look to be fast friends so far, but these things can change quick. Not that I'd really know, mind you. I was a lonely girl myself, for reasons I'll never understand..." Sonia sighs, waving her drink around theatrically with a roll of her eyes. "P'raps because ye're a ragin' cynic?" Callen snickers. "I'm a realist." Sonia firmly responds, somehow crossing her arms while still holding her cup of wine. "Aye, are ye?" Callen's laughter only grows. "Only time can tell, but it is a promising start," Willem reasons, taking a languid sip of his wine.<<else>>"They look to be off to a rocky start. I dare say we've raised a $child incapable of making a proper friend, Cal." "Oh, it's never that bad, lass!" He chuckles. "Ain't a thing that time won't fix. So the <<if $agab == "male">>lads ain't off to the best of starts, what's the matter?<<else>>two of 'em ain't off to the best of starts, what's the matter?<</if>>" "It doesn't bode well, is all," Sonia concedes, sipping her wine defensively. "An' ye're the expert on childhood friendships, eh?" "$firstname has few friends?" Willem asks, frowning slightly. "$theyF seems to be a well-adjusted $child, I would have thought..." "It's more us than anythin' else," Callen sighs. "Between Sonia's protectiveness, my worryin', an' most o' Sola's children bein' on the other side of the city, $firstname ain't had the best chance at meetin' others $their age." "Well," Willem raises his cup jovially. "To making new friends!" "//Se zgadam!//" Sonia agrees with a toast that neither man understands, draining her cup and immediately filling it once more.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2WillemTalk4]]

"Speakin' of makin' hard decisions for family, we're all too familiar with it..." Callen murmurs, and Sonia shoots him a concerned look, wariness in her eyes. In an attempt to deflect, she speaks up. "Oftentimes it's just one of us here, caring for the kid. It's not easy to do it, but it's hardly //cheap// to live here, safe as it is." Callen pats her shoulder, looking deep into her eyes for mere moments. Willem watches on curiously as a silent conversation passes between the two of them. They come to some sort of understanding, and Sonia nods. "Do the Bladeweavers not grant you leave to care for the $child?" He asks, shifting forward in his seat to listen. "They call, an' we have to answer." Callen shrugs, like there's nothing else to be said about it. "Can you not refuse some of these calls?" Willem asks, concern bleeding into his tone. [[Next|Chap2WillemTalk5]]

Sonia rolls up her sleeve, where a crimson tattoo is clearly visible against her tan forearm, lines almost too clean to have been done by hand. An angular rune surrounded by a thin ring: the brand of Debt, in all its infamy. Callen slips his glove off to reveal an identical tattoo printed on the back of his hand. "It'd be quite difficult, to say the least." Sonia drily responds. "I ... I see." Willem mutters, his disturbed expression clear as day. "T'was the price for the $callenChild's safety under the Order's roof." Callen explains, concealing his brand once more as Sonia does the same. "It's not a price I regret payin'." "Same goes for me." Sonia agrees, sharing a private, harried smile with him, "Usually, anyway," she adds. "$firstname's toddlerhood had me on the cusp of renouncing my oath, if I could have." "I understand why you would keep them covered ... tales of Indebted slaves are plentiful in my homeland. It is not a kind fate for many." She tilts her head slightly, the left corner of her mouth quirking up in a humourless smirk. "I'm well-used to people looking at a mark on my flesh, but a Debt brand is different to a regular old scar. Helps to be seen as capable of controlling your own decisions, you know? Even if our terms are fairly lenient." "We agreed to the brands," Callen interrupts, "because the $callenChild was set to be sent to an orphanage below. $theyF was left on our step, an' we saw no other solution but to make a ward of the $child, raise $themInformal under our roof. The Debt was the price of that deal. We serve the Order when it calls to us." "I see..." Willem mutters. "It is admirable," he continues, "to dedicate yourselves to raising that $child, even when you needn't have. I imagine it brought the two of you closer, in a way." "It's a strange little family we've got, but there ain't a thing I wouldn't do for the two of 'em." Callen says, voice strong and unwavering. "You're soft as wet bread, Cal." Sonia snickers, taking another sip of her wine. "This is good stuff. You wouldn't happen to be selling any barrels, would you?" Willem smirks. "I might be persuaded to gift one or two to a treasured neighbour, one of these days." [[The three of them laugh.|Chap2WillemTalk6]]

Their muted, cosy conversation continues long into the night, as they share personal tales and stories from their homes. A sleepy-looking Sam enters at one point, and his father leads him to bed proper. Soon after, Callen and Sonia leave for good, shaking hands with their new neighbour and promising to return soon. Meanwhile... [[You dream.|Chap2Interlude1]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Later you are gently shaken awake by Aunt Sonia<<if $chap2BringGift != "no">>, your gift box held in her arm<<else>><</if>>, who smiles cheekily at you. "Couldn't hack it, huh? C'mon, kid. I'll get you to your own bed." She speaks in a whisper, and you understand why when you look over at Sam.<<else>>Later you are gently shaken awake by Uncle Callen<<if $chap2BringGift != "no">>, your gift box held in his arm<<else>><</if>>, who smiles through this thick beard at you. "Tired, $callenChild? Let's get ya on home, then." He speaks in a whisper, and you understand why when you look over at Sam.<</if>> The boy snores softly, face pressed into the sheet with his eyes tight-shut. He may have laughed about you wanting to rest, but he evidently needed it just as badly. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🌞+ "Bye, Sam..." You whisper, letting him take you home.|Chap2Scene82a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Okay, let's go..." You whisper, letting him take you home.|Chap2Scene82b]]<<else>>[[🌞+ "Bye, Sam..." You whisper, letting her take you home.|Chap2Scene82a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Okay, let's go..." You whisper, letting her take you home.|Chap2Scene82b]]<</if>>

He shifts imperceptibly in his sleep, <<if $samRomance == 2>>clutching the sheets tightly and smiling.<<else>>smiling.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia helps you up quietly, leading you back into the dining room where you mutter a quick goodbye.<<else>>Uncle Callen helps you up quietly, leading you back into the dining room where you mutter a quick goodbye.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>She helps you up quietly, leading you back into the dining room where you mutter a quick goodbye.<<else>>He helps you up quietly, leading you back into the dining room where you mutter a quick goodbye.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene73a]]

<<set $samCrushrealise to "y">>He almost goes pale before your very eyes. "Eh?" You smile sheepishly. "I don't know what it is ... am I sick?" "No, $callenChild, ye're not sick." He laughs. <<if $volatile >= 50>>"Then what is it?!" You huff, growing irritated at how weird he's acting.<<else>>"Then ... what is it?" You ask.<</if>> He chews his lip uncertainly, thinking of what to say. "You like 'im, right?" You nod strongly. Of course you do! "Well," he begins shakily, "some people, they like one another in a //stronger// way, $callenChild. The feelin' might pass, or it might get more apparent as ye get older. Some people call it a crush, 'cause it's like yer heart's bein' crushed." [["Like love?" You don't know if you love Sam, but this feeling is nice...|Chap2Scene76dCal1a]] [["So I have a crush on Sam?" You ask, eyes wide.|Chap2Scene76dCal1b]]

"Somethin' like that, yeah." He smiles patiently. "But it's not that far yet, you an' Sam are just wee kids, alright? I don't want ye to be worryin' about how ya feel about him, or he about you. That's for when ye're older." "...Okay." You mutter, still uncertain on how you feel about him. You do know one thing, though: this feeling is nice, whether it'll last or not. He smiles, barely visible beneath his beard. "Hardly a day of bein' here and ye're enamoured with the lad, eh? Total opposite o' me right there, $callenChild." [[Next|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

"Maybe y'do, $callenChild. These things ... I'm not so good with 'em, but there ain't nothin' ya need to do about it. If ye like the lad, and he likes you, ye'll just see where things go from there, okay?" "...Okay." You mutter, chest fluttering with fanciful thoughts of the boy. So you have a crush on him. <<if $samRomance == 2>>You think he feels the same, too. That's amazing.<<else>>That's amazing, and you can only hope he might feel the same one day.<</if>> He smiles, barely visible beneath his beard. "Hardly a day of bein' here and ye're enamoured with the lad, eh? Total opposite o' me right there, $callenChild." [[Next|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

Uncle Callen smiles excitedly, clapping your shoulder. "I'm so glad, $callenChild! I know there's not much chance for makin' friends around here, so it'll be nice to see ya gettin' on with someone yer own age." [[Next|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

<<if $samRelationship < 45>>The prospect is worrying. You'd rather spend as little time with the boy as possible.<<elseif $samRelationship >= 45 and $samRelationship <= 54>>While you don't //mind// him, visiting Sam all the time sounds a little bit daunting.<<else>>While you like the boy, visiting all the time sounds a little bit daunting.<</if>> "That's up to you, $callenChild." He smiles. "I reckon the lad'll be spendin' most of his time outdoors, so it'll be your decision whether or not ya see him. For what it's worth, I think it'll be good to give him a companion in this unfamiliar place, and you a permanent friend--next door, no less!" [[Next|Chap2Scene75aCal]]

She just fixes you with a hard look for a moment, trying to discern the reason for your sudden questioning. "We've told you all--" "You haven't, though." You mutter. "I can tell you're hiding things ... I just want to know a little more //about// them." You plead, not expecting anything but another deflection. In honesty, you have a better chance of getting some knowledge when your guardians are split up. It might be a little devious, but you want to know things, and you can tell they're withholding information which, in your opinion, is just as devious! She sniffs, chewing the inside of her cheek for a second. She leans her head on her fist, covering her scar up with her hand as her face tilts, still looking at you. "What do you want to know?" Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Just like that?! "Well ... what did they look like?" Her eyes crinkle fondly, and she runs a finger through your $haircolour hair. "I've always liked your hair, you know..." She smiles, finally. "It looks exactly like your father's, only a different shade. Your skin's a closer shade to your mother's, too, though it's been a long time since I saw them, of course." "Can you tell me more?" You ask, emboldened by her willingness to give you a scrap of information. "Like, what were they //like//?" She shakes her head sadly. "We didn't know them like that, $firstname. It was only a few moments that we saw them, and then they were gone. We made our promise to keep you safe, not even knowing if they'd come back for you." [[🦅++ "Thank you." You respond, grateful for some semblance of information on them.|Chap2Scene77bSon1][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 4]] [[🦅-- "You're still not telling me things." You scowl. Why won't she just tell you?!|Chap2Scene77bSon2][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 4]]

"Once you're grown-up, we'll tell you more, kid. Consider that a promise from me, alright?" "Alright..." You mutter, uncertain but grateful for future context. "Now," she shuffles in her seat, "what else?" <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You were scared for Uncle Callen, today.|Chap2Scene76aSon][$Chap2Ask1 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask3 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about your future, as a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene76cSon][$Chap2Ask3 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about Sam.|Chap2Scene76dSon][$Chap2Ask4 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes" or $chap2Ask2 == "yes" or $chap2Ask3 == "yes" or $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>[[You've asked every question you want to.|Chap2Scene77Son]]<<else>><</if>>

Her eyes narrow, and she replies sternly. "Those are the terms, kid. You'll hear more once you're older." You cross your arms, as silly as it might make you look in your laid position. "I'll believe //that// when I hear it." "Yes, you will." Is all she says. "Anything else?" <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You were scared for Uncle Callen, today.|Chap2Scene76aSon][$Chap2Ask1 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask3 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about your future, as a Bladeweaver.|Chap2Scene76cSon][$Chap2Ask3 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>//You have already asked this question.//<<else>>[[You want to talk about Sam.|Chap2Scene76dSon][$Chap2Ask4 to "yes"]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Ask1 == "yes" or $chap2Ask2 == "yes" or $chap2Ask3 == "yes" or $chap2Ask4 == "yes">>[[You've asked every question you want to.|Chap2Scene77Son]]<<else>><</if>>

"It'd be a waste of talent, but yes." She nods, "You can do anything you want once you've graduated, kid. <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>"I was just asking," you clarify, "I don't think I want to..." "Good." She smiles, patting your shoulder.<<else>>"Just making sure," you clarify, "we'll see in the future..." "Alright then, kid." She looks dubiously at you.<</if>> [["What will happen once I graduate? Will I be able to stay here?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon2]] [["Will I get to choose my weapon?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon3]] [[That's all you'd like to ask.|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

"If you pay part of the rent, sure." She winks. "I'm sure your Uncle Callen and I can pull some strings in the future, keep you close and go on missions with us. You nod, relieved. "That's good, then..." [["Will I be able to leave the Order once I've graduated?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon1]] [["Will I get to choose my weapon?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon3]] [[That's all you'd like to ask about that.|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

She laughs out loud. "I was wondering when you'd ask that! You will--I chose mine, had it made brand-new. My master wanted me to inherit his glaive, but I work better with swords, so I had one made special." You're quiet, imagining what sorts of weapon you'll be able to wield in the future. Images of wielding two massive Empyrean swords at once flash in your mind, as fanciful (and impractical) as the idea may be, which she's drummed into your head countless times--though she also agrees that two weapons does look better than one. [["Will I be able to leave the Order once I've graduated?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon1]] [["What will happen once I graduate? Will I be able to stay here?" You ask.|chap2Scene76cSon2]] [[That's all you'd like to ask about that.|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

<<set $samCrushrealise to "y">>She almost laughs, but stops herself. "Oh, you do?" "You're making fun of me." You huff. "Sorry, kid. I won't anymore," she assures, patting your hand, "so you feel strange around him, is it like you're ... nervous? Like you want to be around him?" You nod, "Something like that ... What does it mean?" She leans back, folding one booted leg over the other. "I would say this is your first crush, kid." She speaks clinically, though keeps a silly smile on her face. "It's a little //early//, but I used to chase after some of the other girls in my hometown myself, so..." She shrugs. <<if $volatile >= 50>>"What's a //crush//?!" You huff, growing irritated at how weird she's speaking.<<else>>"Then ... what's a crush?" You ask.<</if>> She explains, "Some people see someone else and think, 'Wow. That's a person I'd like to get to know.' And they can't keep their mind off them, lots of the time. Is that how you feel about Sam?" "I think so? It's confusing..." You shrug. Aunt Sonia laughs again. "Believe me, kid. I understand how you feel. You don't have to feel, or do, anything a certain way. You're just kids right now, I say just see where things go, alright I'll try and stop your Uncle Callen from teasing, too." She winks. [["So ... it's like love?" You don't know if you love Sam, but this feeling is nice...|Chap2Scene76dSon1a]] [["So I have a crush on Sam?" You ask, eyes wide.|Chap2Scene76dSon1b]]

She smiles, happy with your revelation. "That's good, kid. I didn't have too many friends myself growing up, so it's gonna be nice to see you have a neighbour you like." [[Next|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

<<if $samRelationship < 45>>The prospect is worrying. You'd rather spend as little time with the boy as possible.<<elseif $samRelationship >= 45 and $samRelationship <= 54>>While you don't //mind// him, visiting Sam all the time sounds a little bit daunting.<<else>>While you like the boy, visiting all the time sounds a little bit daunting.<</if>> "As little or as much as you like, $firstname. I certainly won't force you to visit when you don't want." She chuckles, "I've spent too much of my own life being forced to talk to people I don't really care for, so I won't put that on you as well." [[Next|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

"It's not quite love, kid, and it's not quite just being friends either. I know it's sort of confusing and stupid, but the only one to tell you what you're feeling is you, alright?" "...Okay." You mutter, still uncertain on how you feel about him. You do know one thing, though: this feeling is nice, whether it'll last or not. Aunt Sonia looks at you funny for a second. "You've known the kid a day and you're seeing stars around him already, huh? I bet you'll end up just like me: hopelessly romantic." She smirks teasingly. You groan. "Don't say that!" [[Next|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

"Only one to tell you that is yourself, kid." She shrugs. "Like I said, don't think too much about these things, alright? Liking someone isn't meant to be stressful." "...Okay." You mutter, chest fluttering with fanciful thoughts of the boy. So you have a crush on him. <<if $samRomance == 2>>You think he feels the same, too. That's amazing.<<else>>That's amazing, and you can only hope he might feel the same one day.<</if>> Aunt Sonia looks at you funny for a second. "You've known the kid a day and you're seeing stars around him already, huh? I bet you'll end up just like me: hopelessly romantic." She smirks teasingly. You groan. "Don't say that!" [[Next|Chap2Scene75aSon]]

<div id="header-text">The Times Between...</div> In the weeks that follow, Sam and his father settle into Sola properly. Their shop, dubbed Alban's Articles (a name that brought a laugh from Uncle Callen and a roll of the eyes from Aunt Sonia) opened to reasonable success, with people travelling from across the city and below to peruse Willem's wares. As it turns out, he had been a talented carpenter before becoming a merchant, and created furniture in his spare time. Sam takes to Sola like a fish to water. Within a few days he ammasses a small gaggle of local children as his followers, becoming a minor point of conversation among the townspeople. You hear 'ruffians' used to describe them more than once, though the boy's father must have explained the difference between Sola and a surface city to him because he very rarely gets into any sort of real trouble. He's even made a sort of lair for himself in the old woods deep inside the park's forest. The scattered ruins of an old temple make for an impressive den for him and his new friends. <<if $samChap2Opinion == "fond">>[[You'd initially been fond of Sam, and were more than willing to accompany him alongside his group.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "like"]] [[While you'd initially been fond of Sam, the sheer quantity of new children you had to meet led you to shy away from them, more often than not. You much prefer spending time alone with him.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "dislike"]] <<if $samRomance >= 1>>[[🔥 It sent a jolt of jealousy, slithering and unsettling, through you whenever you saw him with his new friends. Part of you wanted Sam all to yourself.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "jealousR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>[[🔥You loved spending time with Sam, and took the opportunity when you could. You were less enthused about his gaggle of friends, however. Still, you put up with them when necessary.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "dislikeR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>[[🔥 While you often enjoyed going out with Sam and his new friends, it felt exciting to know his attention was always on you the most.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "likeR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>><<elseif $samChap2Opinion == "unfond">>[[You'd initially been unfond of Sam, but eventually warmed up to him, accompanying him alongside his group plenty of times.|Chap2Interlude6]][$samFriends to "like"]] [[You'd initially been unfond of Sam, but eventually warmed up to him. You weren't so sure about his new group of friends, though, and preferred spending time alone with him.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "dislike"]] <<if $samRomance >= 1>>[[🔥 Even though you'd initially been unfond of Sam, it still sent a jolt of jealousy, slithering and unsettling, through you whenever you saw him with his new friends. Part of you wanted Sam all to yourself.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "jealousR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance >= 1>>[[🔥 You'd initially been unfond of Sam, but eventually warmed up to him. You loved spending time with Sam, and took the opportunity when you could. You were less enthused about his gaggle of friends, however. Still, you put up with them when necessary.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "dislikeR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>[[🔥 You'd initially been unfond of Sam, but eventually warmed up to him. While you often enjoyed going out with Sam and his new friends, it felt exciting to know his attention was always on you the most.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "likeR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>><<elseif $samChap2Opinion == "unsure">>[[You hadn't exactly been sure about Sam initially, but soon found a place at his side. You were more than willing to accompany him alongside his group.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "like"]] [[You hadn't exactly been sure about Sam initially, but soon found a place at his side, though the sheer quantity of new children you had to meet led you to shy away from them, more often than not. You much prefer spending time alone with him.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "dislike"]] <<if $samRomance >= 1>>[[🔥 As much as you'd been ambivalent on Sam initially it sent a jolt of jealousy, slithering and unsettling, through you whenever you saw him with his new friends. Part of you wanted Sam all to yourself.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "jealousR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>[[🔥 As mixed as your thoughts on Sam had been initially, you soon found a place at his side. You loved spending time with Sam, and took the opportunity when you could. You were less enthused about his gaggle of friends, however. Still, you put up with them when necessary.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "dislikeR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>[[🔥 As mixed as your thoughts on Sam had been initially, you soon found a place at his side. While you often enjoyed going out with Sam and his new friends, it felt exciting to know his attention was always on you the most.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "likeR"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>><</if>> [[🌞-- You had other things to do than loiter with your neighbour and his friends, to be entirely honest, so you don't know what the place looks like, nor do you really know any of his new friends.|Chap2Interlude6][$samFriends to "notFriends", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

That is far from the only thing that sees change. Soon enough, the city begins to prepare for the coming Festival of Light--a religious celebration dedicated to Sola, the city's patron God and the figure it was named for. The God of the sun and light was said to be tall and intelligent: kind and strong in equal measure. He would grant wishes to ancient farmers, gifting them sunlight while striking the land of His enemies--the other Gods--with scorching droughts year-round. Like every God of the Twelve, He was neither wholly kind nor wholly malevolent. The festival, held on the day of the Summer solstice, celebrates the longest day of the year. The Pantheon of Light is said to be at the height of its power on this day, when the sun sits still in the sky for just a short while longer to nourish mankind with its rays. Some question the fact that Sola's festival falls in the month of Sofin--not His own month--though the month of Sola is commonly the brightest of the year, with the most sun, so these doubts are of little consequence. The festival also serves partly to celebrate Sola's shared victory against the Thirteenth, the demon monarch that rose up in a time before records were kept. In a rare moment of collaboration He, along with the other Gods, joined together to seal the monster away, departing the world until the Ascendant would one day call Them all back--according to the Empryean Church. Such was the duality of each and every God of the Twelve. The examples They set, good and bad, are to be learned from. Again, so the Empyrean Church says. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia is granted leave of her duties in order to prepare for her role in the exhibitionary duel, and Uncle Callen is as well due to his injury.<<else>>Uncle Callen is granted leave of his duties in order to prepare for his role in the exhibitionary duel, and Aunt Sonia is as well due to her injury.<</if>> When $mentorThey told you what was happening, you were curious: you had not been able to attend the last few festivals because both of them were busy, but now you're practically //supposed// to attend. [[How wonderful. You didn't really want to go, to be honest.|Chap2Interlude7][$chap2Fair to "no"]] [[How wonderful!|Chap2Interlude7][$chap2Fair to "yes"]]

The strange voice you heard throughout the day ebbed away soon after it first appeared, and your strange hallucinations ceased, though you still felt compelled not to speak a word of your concerns to anybody. Your dreams returned to normalcy and life was relatively quiet, for a $child who lives with two ... //eccentric// warriors. [[The day of the Festival of Light approaches.|Chap2Scene83]]

"I had no idea..." She breathes, turning to look at them. "They have endured much, before and after I entered their life." You reply. "I did my best to defend them from the people's ire, though we were mere children standing against the words of those older, supposedly wiser than us. Eventually, I came of age and, being from fighting stock, was called away to train for the local army." You frown bitterly. "Soldiering was always my fate, I had thought then." "So you were a soldier..." Efinia concludes, sitting up and hugging herself softly, pale hands running up and down her bare arms, seeking warmth. "For a time." You say, simply. "Then came my dream, and I wound up at Rion's side once more, though the obstacles we now face are far greater than the prejudices of old men in a far-away town." Your tone has lightened noticeably, something Efinia picks up on. "You seem to enjoy it, if I might say. Certainly enough to be drinking on the job." She laughs softly, leaning forward in her seat. A scratchy sound, almost a chuckle, rumbles from your throat. "What was it you said? 'It is good work.' What we are doing is righteous. That, I ''know''." You say, with as much conviction as Rion had mustered when speaking to you back on the hill. Her smile is lilted, an amused smirk that curls up more on one side than the other. Her blue-green eyes gleam. "You have more of a mind than you let on, son of nobody." You lean forward, and you're sure you can see the muddy brown of your own eyes reflected in her own... "Appearances can be deceiving, priestess." Again, you use her own words against her. "I'm no priestess anymore. Care to imagine what that means?" She doesn't laugh outwardly, but a huff of air from her nose tells you all you need to know. She's close, now. [[Close enough to...|Chap2Interlude5]]

//7th of Sofin, AR 1490// //Living room, Home// You test the sleeves on your new outfit, flowing and light to cope with the immense heat today will bring. A tasteful $favcolour accent has been added, thanks to your input, and the collar of your tunic is pinned on each side by a pin depicting a wolf and a hawk, respectively. You'll be making an 'official' appearance today as Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen's ward, so apparently some decoration was in order. Sola's wind-wards have been adjusted to their maximum operating capacity, as Archer helpfully explained while Aunt Sonia tried her best to ignore them, to accommodate the coming crowds' favorability towards the surface's warmer climate. Thanks to the work of the sky-shapers, masters of weather manipulation in their high tower to the city's far east, no clouds will obscure the sun today. [[Next|Chap2Scene83.5]]

It's a common sentiment spread by the Empyrean Church. Many, especially within Telfrin, believe the Fallen are children of the Thirteenth, sharing the departed beast's tainted blood, which is the cause of their bestial features and unstable magic. Uncle Callen catches you deep in thought, and smiles softly. You know his thoughts on Fallen well: he believes that no one group of people is wholly good or bad, and tends to get quite vexed on the issue if confronted about it. Just about the only times you've seen him genuinely angry are when he hears talk dismissing Fallen as demonspawn, the kin of malice itself. You have never seen him set foot in a church partly for this very reason. [[Next|Chap2Scene84]]

It's a common sentiment spread by the Empyrean Church. Many, especially within Telfrin, believe the Fallen are children of the Thirteenth, sharing the departed beast's tainted blood, which is the cause of their bestial features and unstable magic. Uncle Callen hums contemplatively. "Nobody really knows for sure, $callenChild. Some say it's 'cause they might share origins with demons, but it's important t'remember Fallen are //people//, with thoughts and dreams an' feelings like anyone else. We're more than our origins an' they ain't evil just because Empyrean hurts 'em." [[Next|Chap2Scene84]]

Archer shrugs, their shadowed eyes narrowed in amusement. "And there you have it. Until you can stomach the presence of our supernatural friends, you're stuck with us //Risen// mages." "Playin' a dangerous game, callin' Fallen friends during times like these, Archie..." Uncle Callen mutters, worried. "Who will sanction me? I find myself practically //immune// to punishment, Callen. Inquisitors are hardly present in the Cities, for their prey cannot enter them," they gesture with their hands as they speak, smirking all the while. "No, King Thibau can hardly arrest one of his 'higher beings' for daring to have some empathy." Aunt Sonia snorts. "That's what you've got now?" She tightens her belt and adjusts some leather cuffs around her sleeve. She and Uncle Callen have opted to go without their Master's cloaks today, settling on just wearing their pins over their clothing, <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>hers less fancy than his<<else>>his less fancy than hers<</if>> in preparation for the armour that'll go over it at the exhibition. "For those //deserving//, yes." They grin satisfiedly when she rolls her eyes. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I'd save the insults for after you've been riding in a carriage with me, Arch. Honestly, I don't think you're as smart as you like people to think you are." She punctuates her double-forked threat and insult with a thin smile. They shrug. "I am a risk-taker."<<else>>"Annoy them in the carriage for me, would you, Cal?" She sighs. He grimaces. "No promises, lass. I ain't had anythin' done to me for a while, an' I'd rather not break that streak." Archer coos. "I always knew you were the smarter of the bunch, Callen."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene85]]

<<set $chap2Hurt to "no">>There's a sudden sound at the door: a short, quick knock--//rat-tat//. Aunt Sonia strides over, huffing when Archer doesn't bother to shift out of her way, and throws it open. You move a little to peek outside, and catch the eye of a young woman clad in light plate, featuring little embellishment. A crimson-and-black tabard is draped over her front, emblazoned with the winged dagger of the Bladeweavers' Order in silvery-green. An open-faced helm dangles from her belt, adorned with a small red plume. She clutches the pommel of her sword, and bows her head. "Master Wierszy. A carriage awaits for <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>yourself and Archmage Ryburn.<<else>>Master Edros and Archmage Ryburn.<</if>> Completely ignoring her request, Aunt Sonia smirks in lieu of a proper greeting. "How's it going, Kay? Oh--it'll be Adept Kay now, wouldn't it? That's a nice-looking bit of kit you've got." She nods towards the young knight's stowed-away weapon. "Warm but well, Master Wierszy." Kay smiles wearily, a little unprepared for Aunt Sonia's friendliness--she must be used to the version of her you see in training all the time--but happy to talk nonetheless. "I graduated earlier this year. Master Denros graciously had his sword Bled for me, what with his injury..." She draws the blade, showing it off to Aunt Sonia. The sun glints off the weapon's almost luminous turquoise-tinged surface. It looks old but fastidiously maintained, decorated in a way that seems at odds with the Knight's functional aesthetic. Aunt Sonia whistles. "It's a pretty one. Right, I've kept you long enough. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Archer, stop draping yourself over my counter and get out here."<<else>>Callen! Time to get a move on."<</if>> She calls back into the house. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Next|Chap2Scene86Cal]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene86Son]]<</if>>

He sputters at the table, trying to get up too quickly and knocking it as he does so. "Ah--just a minute, lass!" He bounds over to the far wall on the otherside of the room and reaches up to grab the last thing he requires for the exhibition, later today. His Empyrean weapon. As the blade comes into the light, you get your first good look at it in a few weeks. Whereas Aunt Sonia's falchion was made to her exact specifications, Uncle Callen inherited this weapon from his own master, many years ago. Shorter than a regular poleaxe, it's otherwise quite a standard-looking affair. Were it not for the telltale gleam of Empyrean, it would be all too easy to believe it was just a regular soldier's weapon. While the craftsmanship of the thing is evident, with quality wood used for the handle coupled with the precise angles of all the weapon's striking points, it looks sort of plain. The axe-head, straight where most would have an inward curve, is attached to the same block as the almost-as-large hammer head. A wicked-looking spike juts from the top of the block, making for a dangerous combination of maiming implements. He spins it in his hands a few times, testing the thing's weight--though it can't weigh more than a fraction of what a regular steel version of the weapon would be. Uncle Callen's poleaxe is a weapon you rarely see, thanks to him keeping it up and out of reach, not that you could move the thing anyway. The big man catches you looking, and levels a thin smile your way. "Time for me to get goin', then." Another spin, and it's quickly attached to a concealed clip in his gambeson's shoulder. A quick hug with Aunt Sonia and a hearty clap of Archer's shoulder later, he's outside, Archer beside him. "Master Edros, Archmage Ryburn. A pleasure." Kay bows deferrentially, hand once more on her sword's pommel. "I am sure." Archer nods their head politely in return, sunlight catching in the soot-black waves of their hair, expertly coiffed. "Good mornin' to ya!" Uncle Callen smiles cheerily at her. Behind the small group sits a massive rumbling beast of a carriage, clicking and whirring with idle power. At its front sits a driver, like a regular carriage would have, but no horses pull this thing. No, all the movement happens //inside//, with a mechanism of powered gears propelling it ahead with the wheels acting as both propulsion and steering. Kay hops in the carriage first, swinging a metal door open and stepping up and inside, and Archer follows. Uncle Callen turns to you, and stoops. "See ya soon, $callenChild." He smiles, waiting for your own response. [[🐺+ Give him a hug goodbye. "See you soon!"|Chap2Scene87Cala][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]] [[🐺+ Wave him off. "See you soon!"|Chap2Scene87Calb][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]] [[🐺+ "Don't get hurt, okay?" You beg. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene87Calc][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 2, $chap2Hurt to "yes"]] [["Goodbye..." You mutter. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene87Cald][$cold to $cold + 2]]

Uncle Callen sputters at the table. "Hang on, lass! Let me say goodbye to ya, at least." Aunt Sonia snorts. "Come on, then." He smiles, getting up from the table, and walks over with his arms spread. "Don't you go killin' anybody now, y'hear?" She smirks, suddenly wrapped in his big arms with her own pinned at her sides, and responds. "That's up to them, Cal." She looks at you from around his bulky shoulder and winks. <<if $soniaClose >= 55 or $sarcastic >= 50>>You smirk and stick your tongue out at her.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 54>>You frown slightly.<</if>> Once she's wriggled out of the hug, she leads Archer outside. "Archmage Ryburn. A pleasure." Kay bows deferrentially, hand once more on her sword's pommel. "I am sure." Archer nods their head politely in return, sunlight catching in the soot-black waves of their hair, expertly coiffed. "Let's be off, then." Aunt Sonia huffs. Behind the small group sits a massive rumbling beast of a carriage, clicking and whirring with idle power. Its design is brutally utilitarian, the only real decoration on it being the large Bladeweavers' Order symbol painted in stark white on the dark iron shell. At its front sits a driver, like a regular carriage would have, but no horses pull this thing. No, all the movement happens //inside//, with a mechanism of powered gears propelling it ahead with the wheels acting as both propulsion and steering. Kay hops in the carriage first, swinging a metal door open and stepping up and inside, and archer follows. Aunt Sonia moves to follow, but turns around swiftly, suddenly remembering your presence. She flicks your ear. "This's goodbye for now, $firstname." [[🦅+ Give her a hug goodbye. "See you soon!"|Chap2Scene87Sona][$soniaClose to $callenClose + 1]] [[🦅+ Wave her off. "See you soon!"|Chap2Scene87Sonb][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]] [[🦅+ "Don't get hurt, okay?" You beg. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene87Sonc][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 2, $chap2Hurt to "yes"]] [["Goodbye..." You mutter. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene87Sond][$cold to $cold + 2]]

He mutters a soft assurance as you wrap your arms around his large frame, unable to make your hands touch. "You will, $callenChild. Enjoy the fair, eh? 'Tis a lovely thing t'see." <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises, but you'll try.<<else>>You nod eagerly. "I bet!"<</if>> "Do take care of your Aunt Sonia for us, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage, mock-sweet. "I do fear so for her wellbeing these days, with her joints..." "I don't know why ye do it, Archie..." Uncle Callen chuckles as he climbs up in the carriage, sitting alongside them. Kay closes the door softly, getting up at the front with the driver, and he waves from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene88Cal]]

His smile grows. "You will, $callenChild. Enjoy the fair, eh? 'Tis a lovely thing t'see." <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises, but you'll try.<<else>>You nod eagerly. "I bet!"<</if>> "Do take care of your Aunt Sonia for us, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage, mock-sweet. "I do fear so for her wellbeing these days, with her joints..." "I don't know why ye do it, Archie..." Uncle Callen chuckles as he climbs up in the carriage, sitting alongside them. Kay closes the door softly, getting up at the front with the driver, and he waves from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene88Cal]]

"I want to hear you cheering me on during the fight, kid." Aunt Sonia winks despite her serious tone, "In the meantime, have a good time at the fair and don't run off, alright? //I'll find you.//" She smirks, patting your back roughly as she breaks the hug. <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises about enjoying the fair, but you'll try.<<else>>You nod eagerly. "I will--enjoy it, I mean!"<</if>> She nods, punching your arm softly. "Wish me luck, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage. "I may not survive a carriage ride with this one." "It's twenty minutes, you big baby, and you bring it on yourself." Aunt Sonia mutters as she clambers into the carriage, shoving them out of the way to sit down. She winks from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene88Son]]

"I want to hear you cheering me on during the fight, kid." Aunt Sonia winks despite her serious tone, "In the meantime, have a good time at the fair and don't run off, alright? //I'll find you.//" She smirks. <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises about enjoying the fair, but you'll try.<<else>>You nod eagerly. "I will--enjoy it, I mean!"<</if>> She nods, punching your arm softly. "Wish me luck, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage. "I may not survive a carriage ride with this one." "It's twenty minutes, you big baby, and you bring it on yourself." Aunt Sonia mutters as she clambers into the carriage, shoving them out of the way to sit down. She winks from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene88Son]]

She raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Who do you think you're talking to, kid? You should be worrying about whoever it is I'm fighting." When her joke doesn't assuage your fears, she sighs, punching your arm softly. "I'll be just fine, $firstname. You //should// be focusing on all the fun you'll be having at the fair, while I'm getting stuffed into my armour." <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises, but you'll try.<<else>>You nod eagerly. "I bet!"<</if>> "Wish me luck, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage. "I may not survive a carriage ride with this one." "It's twenty minutes, you big baby, and you bring it on yourself." Aunt Sonia mutters as she clambers into the carriage, shoving them out of the way to sit down. She winks from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene88Son]]

He laughs through his nose, short and sharp. "An' a goodbye to you, little $honorific2 Serious!" He makes to leave, but hesitates. "An, really, I hope ye enjoy the fair today. 'Tis a lovely thing t'see." <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises, but you'll try.<<else>>You don't make any loud declaration of agreement, but something in the way your expression changes tells him enough. He smiles and pats your shoulder, before turning away.<</if>> "Do take care of your Aunt Sonia for us, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage, mock-sweet. "I do fear so for her wellbeing these days, with her joints..." "I don't know why ye do it, Archie..." Uncle Callen chuckles as he climbs up in the carriage, sitting alongside them. Kay closes the door softly, getting up at the front with the driver, and he waves from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene88Cal]]

"Oh, ye'll break my heart, $callenChild." He laughs, patting your shoulder. "I'll not be hurt. That's what all the armour they'll have me clunkin' around in is for! Now, you enjoy the fair, eh? 'Tis a lovely thing t'see." <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises, but you'll try.<<else>>You nod eagerly, feeling a bit better. "I'll try!"<</if>> "Do take care of your Aunt Sonia for us, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage, mock-sweet. "I do fear so for her wellbeing these days, with her joints..." "I don't know why ye do it, Archie..." Uncle Callen chuckles as he climbs up in the carriage, sitting alongside them. Kay closes the door softly, getting up at the front with the driver, and he waves from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene88Cal]]

"I guess you'll enjoy seeing me knocked about later, if this is how you're acting today." Aunt Sonia smirks, "In the meantime, have a good time at the fair and don't run off, alright? //I'll find you.//" She smirks. <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You scrunch your face up. You can't make any promises about enjoying the fair, but you'll try.<<else>>You don't make any loud declaration of agreement, but something in the way your expression changes tells her enough. She smiles and lightly punches your arm, before turning away.<</if>> "Wish me luck, $firstname!" Archer calls from within the carriage. "I may not survive a carriage ride with this one." "It's twenty minutes, you big baby, and you bring it on yourself." Aunt Sonia mutters as she clambers into the carriage, shoving them out of the way to sit down. She winks from behind the darkened glass as the carriage whirrs to life. It moves forward slowly, clunking and humming with a strange resonance. Eventually, the big metal thing has disappeared down the street towards the city centre--where the bulk of the festival is taking place, along with the exhibitions in the arenas. [[You're alone, with Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene88Son]]

"O-oh!" He exclaims, seeming to spring to life, ready to assist you. "Which one is it?" "The dark-speckled grey one, in the back corner." You point to where your mount has rested for the past day, and flash a small slip of paper, scrawled with a symbol that should match the one on her pen. The boy scrutinizes the symbol, and walks over to the pen to check. He shows you a big thumbs up from where he is and unlocks it, leading your mule over to you. She sniffs you for a moment, munching happily on some hay. "Hey, girl." You whisper in her ear. "It's about time to leave, now." "I'll walk you out!" He smiles toothily at you, following outside as you affix your own pack to the saddle and hoist yourself up. He's quite eager to help. Most likely he's looking for an extra payment for his service, but you can't help the suspicions that arise. [[Next|NewPrologueScene8]]

"O-oh, a mule!" He exclaims, seeming to spring to life, ready to assist you. "Which one is it?" You sigh, and flash a small slip of paper, scrawled with a symbol that should match the one on her pen. The boy scrutinizes the symbol, and walks over to the matching pen to check. He shows you a big thumbs up from where he is and unlocks it, leading your mule over to you. She sniffs you for a moment, munching happily on some hay. "Hey, girl." You whisper in her ear. "It's about time to leave, now." "I'll walk you out!" He smiles toothily at you, following outside as you affix your own pack to the saddle and hoist yourself up. He's quite eager to help. Most likely he's looking for an extra payment for his service, but you can't help the suspicions that arise. [[Next|NewPrologueScene8]]

"Well, $callenChild," he comes up behind you, laying a big gentle hand on your shoulder, "let's get our affairs in order 'fore we set off, eh?" <<if $chap2Fair == "yes">>You're practically raring to go already, but you oblige, though a question comes to mind first.<<else>>You're practically looking for excuses not to go, but you oblige, though a question comes to mind first.<</if>> [["Can Sam come with us?" You ask.|Chap2Scene89Sona][$chap2SamFair to "yes"]] [["What time are we leaving?" You ask.|Chap2Scene89Sonb][$chap2SamFair to "no"]]

Aunt Sonia saunters up behind you. "Well, I suppose we'd better start gearing up to //socialize// and //enjoy the merriments//. Come on, kid." <<if $chap2Fair == "yes">>You're practically raring to go already, but you oblige, though a question comes to mind first.<<else>>You're practically looking for excuses not to go, but you oblige, though a question comes to mind first.<</if>> [["Can Sam come with us?" You ask.|Chap2Scene89Cala][$chap2SamFair to "yes"]] [["What time are we leaving?" You ask.|Chap2Scene89Calb][$chap2SamFair to "no"]]

<<if $samRomance >= 1>>It just makes sense, somehow.<<else>>It would make sense, wouldn't it?<</if>> "If his da's alright with it, then of course he can!" He smiles. "Can I--?" You point at where you assume Sam's front door to be with a thumb. "Go on. Oh, and tell 'em we'll be leavin' in about an hour!" He claps, and you jog outside, taking the right turn to make the very short walk to Alban's Articles, which is closed today for the festivities. <<if $patient > 50>>You rap a quick, light knock on the door,<<else>>You hurriedly smack the door a few times,<</if>> knowing it to be locked when the shop is closed as it is today for the festivities. Willem, during a visit a few days ago, had mentioned he would be going to church during the festival. You hope he hasn't gone already, or taken Sam with him if he has. Your worries are dashed when the door opens with that now-familiar bell's jingle, and you come face-to-knee with Willem. Looking a little further up, you see him smiling down at you. He's dressed humbly for the festival in a flaxen-toned tunic, embellished with cloud-tinted gold around the collar and hems. "Good..." He begins uncertainly, pulling a small ticking thing out of a large pocket in his tunic, "afternoon, $firstname! Just about, though." He laughs jovially, returning the little contraption to its home. [["CanSamgotothefestivalwithusplease?!" You ask in a single breath. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene89a][$patient to $patient - 2]] [["Good afternoon, sir!" You belt out a polite, enthusiastic greeting. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene89b][$cold to $cold - 2]] [["Good afternoon, sir." You mumble a polite greeting. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene89c][$cold to $cold + 2]] [["What was that thing you looked at?" You ask, curious.|Chap2Scene89d]]

"I'd say in about an hour, $callenChild." He smiles helpfully as you go back inside, returning to his former seat. <<if $chap2Fair == "yes">><<if $patient < 50>>"Can't we go //now//?" You plead. "Traffic there'll be too much right now," he explains, "so it's best to wait a little while. We've not got a carriage, have we?" "I guess not..." You sigh, trudging your way upstairs.<<else>>"Can I go to my bedroom until it's time?" You ask. "Of course ye can!" He smiles. Once you have your confirmation, you bound upstairs.<</if>><<else>>Thank the Twelve! "Can I play in my bedroom until it's time?" You ask. "Of course ye can!" He smiles. Once you have your confirmation, you bound upstairs.<</if>> As you head into your bedroom, it occurs that Sam might be available today. You aren't aware of his father's plans, but you haven't heard the boy talking about the festival at all, when normally he would certainly be telling you all about it. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>[[While you're on good terms with the boy, you'd rather spend this day without him.|Chap2Scene89.5a]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ While you're on good terms with the boy, you want to spend the day with your Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ While you're on good terms with the boy, you want to spend the day with your Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>><<else>>[[Why would you invite him? It's not as if you're friends.|Chap2Scene89.5a]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ Why would you invite him? You want to spend the day with your Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ Why would you invite him? You want to spend the day with your Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>><</if>> <<if $samRomance > 0>>[[🔥 It would be quite something to have him come with you today, but you decide against it.|Chap2Scene89.5a]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> [[Now that you think of it, perhaps you should invite Sam.|Chap2Scene89.5b][$chap2SamFair to "yes"]]

"They really ought to be the ones receiving honours today, if I am to be honest." Archer sighs, smoothing down the front of their robe, suited towards the warm weather with half-length sleeves and a more sun-friendly white colouring. Their forearms, so uncommonly free of sleeves, are decorated with silver bangles adorned with twinkling black stones. "All you people do is swing those aquamarine knives around." "Y'could stand to be a bit less honest sometimes, Archie." Uncle Callen laughs from behind his cup of chilled tea. His amused smile is surrounded by a slightly rust-tinged beard, courtesy of how carelessly he drinks the stuff. Aunt Sonia scoffs, "I'm sure the sky-shapers will get theirs once //they've// taken up arms and killed a few scorchers and basilisks. Let me know when they can call a lightning strike that doesn't take three hours to prepare, and I'll put a good word in." She smirks sarcastically. They purse their lips. "To my knowledge there remains only one set of practitioners capable of such feats without requiring time to cast them." "Yeah, no thanks." Aunt Sonia laughs dryly. "It's bad enough the Weavers in Abria are thinking about working with Fallen. They can't even come //near// us, thanks to this stuff." She pats her holstered blade, hanging trustily from her hip in its decorated scabbard. "Gods know why some want them fighting at our side." "There remains a completely untapped vein of potential in their power, held back only by superstition and dated notions of 'goodness'." Archer sighs with all the futility of one who's tried this line of argument dozens of times with dozens of others. "You wouldn't be so eager for them to work with us if you'd seen what I have, Archer." She mutters. "I don't expect you to work well with others, regardless, //Sonia//." They smirk, deciding on whether or not so say something. "Remind me of how your escapade with Elizabeth went? Or perhaps the droves of other--" She shoots them a dark look. "Watch yourself." [["Aren't Fallen ... evil?" You ask uncertainly.|Chap2Scene83a]] [["Why would you want to work with Fallen? They're evil." You scoff.|Chap2Scene83b]] [[You hold your tongue. Many say Fallen are evil, but how could you be sure?|Chap2Scene83c]] [["Why does Empyrean hurt them, like demons?" You ask. Many say Fallen are evil, and use that as evidence, but it's confusing.|Chap2Scene83d]]

<<if $samRomance >= 1>>It just makes sense, somehow.<<else>>It would make sense, wouldn't it?<</if>> Aunt Sonia takes a moment to respond, taking a deep breath in. "...If that's what you want." She mutters, giving you a smile that seems almost too enthusiastic to be real. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Yeah, it is." You nod strongly. Uncle Callen would say it is a lot to ask of her to watch you //and// Sam, who is by no means an obedient boy, but you can't pass up this opportunity!<<else>>"Is it okay?" You ask, making sure. Uncle Callen would say it is a lot to ask of her, to watch you //and// Sam, who is by no means an obedient boy, but you can't pass up this opportunity!<</if>> "Go and ask his father, first. Tell them we'll be leaving in about an hour, too." She waves you off, and you almost fail to catch her fingers crossing behind her back. You huff a quick laugh as you run outside and take the sharp right turn that ends with you standing before Alban's Articles. <<if $patient > 50>>You rap a quick, light knock on the door,<<else>>You hurriedly smack the door a few times,<</if>> knowing it to be locked when the shop is closed as it is today for the festivities. Willem, during a visit a few days ago, had mentioned he would be going to church during the festival. You hope he hasn't gone already, or taken Sam with him if he has. Your worries are dashed when the door opens with that now-familiar bell's jingle, and you come face-to-knee with Willem. Looking a little further up, you see him smiling down at you. He's dressed humbly for the festival in a flaxen-toned tunic, embellished with cloud-tinted gold around the collar and hems. "Good..." He begins uncertainly, pulling a small ticking thing out of a large pocket in his tunic, "afternoon, $firstname! Just about, though." He laughs jovially, returning the little contraption to its home. [["CanSamgotothefestivalwithusplease?!" You ask in a single breath. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene89a][$patient to $patient - 2]] [["Good afternoon, sir!" You belt out a polite, enthusiastic greeting. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene89b][$cold to $cold - 2]] [["Good afternoon, sir." You mumble a polite greeting. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene89c][$cold to $cold + 2]] [["What was that thing you looked at?" You ask, curious.|Chap2Scene89d]]

"An hour, why?" Aunt Sonia quirks an eyebrow up, flopping down into her chair. <<if $chap2Fair == "yes">><<if $patient < 50>>"Can't we go //now//?" You plead. She smirks wryly. "Trust me kid, there's //nothing// I want more than to trudge around in the baking sun, surrounded by hundreds of people I want to punch in the throat, but the traffic there'll be too much for little old us to handle. There's a reason Cal and Archer took that carriage. People tend to move for those things." She laughs; a short, sharp chuckle. "Fine..." You sigh, trudging your way upstairs.<<else>>"Can I go to my bedroom until it's time?" You ask. "Fine by me." She nods. "Just don't //somehow// get dirty, please? There's only so much I can take today, what with Archer spending two entire hours here just now..." You don't really listen to her as she rambles on, bounding upstairs once you have your confirmation.<</if>><<else>>Thank the Twelve! "Can I play in my bedroom until it's time?" You ask. "Fine by me." She nods. "Just don't //somehow// get dirty, please? There's only so much I can take today, what with Archer spending two entire hours here just now..." You don't really listen to her as she rambles on, bounding upstairs once you have your confirmation.<</if>> As you head into your bedroom, it occurs that Sam might be available today. You aren't aware of his father's plans, but you haven't heard the boy talking about the festival at all, when normally he would certainly be telling you all about it. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>[[While you're on good terms with the boy, you'd rather spend this day without him.|Chap2Scene89.5a]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ While you're on good terms with the boy, you want to spend the day with your Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ While you're on good terms with the boy, you want to spend the day with your Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]<</if>><<else>>[[Why would you invite him? It's not as if you're friends.|Chap2Scene89.5a]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ Why would you invite him? You want to spend the day with your Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ Why would you invite him? You want to spend the day with your Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene89.5a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>><</if>> <<if $samRomance > 0>>[[🔥 It would be quite something to have him come with you today, but you decide against it.|Chap2Scene89.5a]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> [[Now that you think of it, perhaps you should invite Sam.|Chap2Scene89.5b][$chap2SamFair to "yes"]]

You make your way into your bedroom, mind awash with what today might bring. Standing before your body-length mirror, you take in a deep breath, and release it after a few seconds. It is not a breath of relief, nor excitement. No, this breath is shaky and confused. It has been two weeks since you last heard that strange voice, since you stopped having those strange dreams, with people in strange clothing with strange names in a strange land. The architecture you saw almost reminded you of... No, that's silly. In those dreams you were on the ground, and the Risen Cities, well, they're in the //sky//! You run a hand over your face, reflected perfectly in the mirror's flawless surface. The face you saw in those dreams was not your own. Whoever's eyes you see the world through in them, he was certainly //older// than you, and with a serious expression all the time. <<if $agab == "female">>He was obviously a man, too, so that's a big difference.<<else>>There was one thing you had in common, being your gender, at least.<</if>> His hair, long, dark and curly, fell to his shoulders like he didn't care about styling it, and his skin was only a shade or two lighter than his deep brown eyes. Whatever it is you're witnessing in the cold depths of your dreaming mind, it feels strange--stranger than a dream, even. Like a world removed from space and time. And you can't speak about any of it, with anyone! It's like something deep inside is just ... //stopping// you. [[Next|Chap2Scene91]]

<<set $fairevents = 0>><<set $chap2MagicTentItem to "none">><<set $chap2FortuneTeller to "0">><<set $chap2ArcheryTent to "0">><<set $chap2StrengthTest to "0">><<set $chap2LightShow to "0">><<set $chap2FoodTent to "0">><<set $chap2MagicTent to "0">>You huff, growing frustrated, and seek a distraction. A small painted figure sits on your floor, discarded, and you pick it up to inspect it. It depicts Daegal the Daring, or Daegal of the Red Crow as he is known in Abrian folklore: a storied figure in Phanoli history. Each of the four nations claim him as their own, in some way or another. To Telfrin, he is said to have fought against the old tyrant-kings, hunting their great and terrible dragons across the land with an Empyrean axe. To Abria, he was a patron saint of farmers, chasing away pesky demons with his massive bloodied scythe. Vengard and Mestiria depict him as a sort of battle-priest, wreathed in a cloak of daggers and bones who was the first to set foot on the Isles of No Man, the frozen cluster of islands beyond the coast of Vengard at Phanol's far-southern tip. Aunt Sonia says he probably didn't exist at all, and is just a fable, twisted from a person who may or may not have done a fraction of what all the stories say. That would be underwhelming, you think, as you return the figure to its proper place. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Next|Chap2Scene92a]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene92b]]<</if>>

About an hour later, as promised, a knock at the door catches your attention. <<if $cautious >= 50>>You glide down the stairs as quickly as you reasonably can without hurting yourself.<<else>>You thunder down the stairs, quicker than you reasonably ought to. You almost trip, but manage to make it down safely. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> eyes you warily, but lets out a sigh of relief once you're down unharmed.<</if>> In the middle of your home stands Sam, with his father close behind. He's dressed in a distinctly Abrian outfit, light blues and yellows clashing in harsh, geometric lines. He eyes the room around him interestedly while Willem speaks with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>. [[It is an unusual sight. They've visited once before, but Sam's hardly a regular here.|Chap2Scene93a][$chap2SamVisit to "no"]] <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>[[You were wondering when exactly you'd see them here again. Sam's visited a few times, at this point.|Chap2Scene93b][$chap2SamVisit to "yes"]]<<else>>//Your relationship with Sam is not high enough to choose this option.//<</if>>

<<set $chap2SamVisit to "no">>About an hour later, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia comes up to get you, and you quickly get properly ready to head out. "I hope you've been up there praying for a quiet walk, kid." She smirks, lacing up her boots.<<else>>Uncle Callen comes up to get you, and you quickly get properly ready to head out. "Well, $callenChild, here's hopin' we make it before the crowds shut us out, eh?" He laughs while ushering you out of the door.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene93c]]

"Oh!" Willem looks surprised at your rapidly blurted out request, but goes right into thinking about it--that's promising. Most times when Uncle Callen wants to tell you no, but doesn't want to let you down, he'll tell you he's "thinkin' about it, $callenChild!", but you can already tell he's made up his mind and will just tell you no later. "I had intended on taking the boy to church with me ... but I would not wish to deprive him of his fun on a day as pleasant as this one, hm? It has never been his favourite thing, either. I would prefer he learns to enjoy attending as I did, rather than have the faith forced upon him: perhaps the fair can do what I have failed at thus far." He laughs, and nods. "Yes, of course he can attend with you. I presume your <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> is willing to take him?" <<if $patient < 50>>You nod hurriedly. Yes, yes! Just ask Sam, already!<<else>>You nod in affirmation, wondering where Sam might be.<</if>> Willem claps his hands. "Very well, then!" He turns his head, calling out behind him with a loud bellow, "Samuel! Someone is at the door for you!" There's a distant thundering of feet on steps, and moments later Sam is at his father's side, squeezing between him and the doorframe to see just who's come calling. The boy's hair is wet and matted to his head, his curls appearing almost brown. He's clearly not dressed for the festivites, looking more like he just threw the nearest set of clothes on than anything. <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"$firstname!" He cheers, giving you a loose-limbed wave. "I was just having a bath!"<<else>>"Oh, it's you!" He pauses a moment, looking you over cautiously. "I was just having a bath!"<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>His greeting is accompanied by a moment of lingering silence between the two of you, and a soft, distracted smile on Sam's end. You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing him again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing Sam again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<else>><</if>> "So you //can// get ready quickly..." Willem mutters, ruffling his wet mop and backing away to give the two of you some space. Sam makes a dismissive puffing sound with his mouth, grinning impishly at you. "So what're you doing here?" [[Get straight to the point. "Do you want to come to the festival with us?" (Patient -)|Chap2Scene89c1][$patient to $patient - 2]] [[Talk with him a little, first. It's been a day or two since you've seen one another. "What have you been doing?"|Chap2Scene89c2]]

He grins. "Two weeks as neighbours, and you still address me that way? Must I roll around in the forest with my son for you to simply call me Willem?" You giggle at the thought. "Aunt Sonia says it's respectful, but I can try!" You pause a moment before asking your question. "Could Sam come with me and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> is willing to take him?" to the fair?" The question is slightly blunt, but it's smoothed over by your endearing tone. You're on a mission. "Oh!" Willem looks surprised at your request, but goes right into thinking about it--that's promising. Most times when Uncle Callen wants to tell you no, but doesn't want to let you down, he'll tell you he's "thinkin' about it, $callenChild!", but you can already tell he's made up his mind and will just tell you no later. "I had intended on taking the boy to church with me ... but I would not wish to deprive him of his fun on a day as pleasant as this one, hm? It has never been his favourite thing, either. I would prefer he learns to enjoy attending as I did, rather than have the faith forced upon him: perhaps the fair can do what I have failed at thus far." He laughs, and nods. "Yes, of course he can attend with you. I presume your <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> is willing to take him?" <<if $patient < 50>>You nod hurriedly. Yes, yes! Just ask Sam, already!<<else>>You nod in affirmation, wondering where Sam might be.<</if>> Willem claps his hands. "Very well, then!" He turns his head, calling out behind him with a loud bellow, "Samuel! Someone is at the door for you!" There's a distant thundering of feet on steps, and moments later Sam is at his father's side, squeezing between him and the doorframe to see just who's come calling. The boy's hair is wet and matted to his head, his curls appearing almost brown. He's clearly not dressed for the festivites, looking more like he just threw the nearest set of clothes on than anything. <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"$firstname!" He cheers, giving you a loose-limbed wave. "I was just having a bath!"<<else>>"Oh, it's you!" He pauses a moment, looking you over cautiously. "I was just having a bath!"<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>His greeting is accompanied by a moment of lingering silence between the two of you, and a soft, distracted smile on Sam's end. You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing him again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing Sam again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<else>><</if>> "So you //can// get ready quickly..." Willem mutters, ruffling his wet mop and backing away to give the two of you some space. Sam makes a dismissive puffing sound with his mouth, grinning impishly at you. "So what're you doing here?" [[Get straight to the point. "Do you want to come to the festival with us?" (Patient -)|Chap2Scene89c1][$patient to $patient - 2]] [[Talk with him a little, first. It's been a day or two since you've seen one another. "What have you been doing?"|Chap2Scene89c2]]

"Oh!" Willem grins, as if he's been asked this dozens of times and never tires of getting to elaborate. "You mean my watch?" He reaches into his pocket again, pulling the small round thing out to show to you. It looks like it's made of a shiny metal, perhaps brass, and is about the size of your palm. He presses a little latch down and a hinged lid pops off to show the inside of it. Two little ticking hands move around a circular display of the day's time--you've heard of these things, but never seen one. "A recent development, initially made for the watchmen in Calis, though the technology has spread to other places. I must say, Telfrin's reliance on Risen practitioners //only// is an odd practice, but results like this are nothing to scoff at, hm?" "It's pretty..." You mostly ignore his other words, focusing on the watch. All too soon, he's flipped the lid back on and restored it to his pocket. "So, $firstname. What may I help you with today?" Willem smiles down at you, chuffed at you having asked about his new contraption. Perhaps this will boost your chances of getting him to allow Sam to accompany you? "Can Sam come with me and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> to the fair?" The question is slightly blunt, but you're on a mission. "Oh!" Willem looks surprised at your request, but goes right into thinking about it--that's promising. Most times when Uncle Callen wants to tell you no, but doesn't want to let you down, he'll tell you he's "thinkin' about it, $callenChild!", but you can already tell he's made up his mind and will just tell you no later. "I had intended on taking the boy to church with me ... but I would not wish to deprive him of his fun on a day as pleasant as this one, hm? It has never been his favourite thing, either. I would prefer he learns to enjoy attending as I did, rather than have the faith forced upon him: perhaps the fair can do what I have failed at thus far." He laughs, and nods. "Yes, of course he can attend with you. I presume your <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> is willing to take him?" <<if $patient < 50>>You nod hurriedly. Yes, yes! Just ask Sam, already!<<else>>You nod in affirmation, wondering where Sam might be.<</if>> Willem claps his hands. "Very well, then!" He turns his head, calling out behind him with a loud bellow, "Samuel! Someone is at the door for you!" There's a distant thundering of feet on steps, and moments later Sam is at his father's side, squeezing between him and the doorframe to see just who's come calling. The boy's hair is wet and matted to his head, his curls appearing almost brown. He's clearly not dressed for the festivites, looking more like he just threw the nearest set of clothes on than anything. <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"$firstname!" He cheers, giving you a loose-limbed wave. "I was just having a bath!"<<else>>"Oh, it's you!" He pauses a moment, looking you over cautiously. "I was just having a bath!"<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>His greeting is accompanied by a moment of lingering silence between the two of you, and a soft, distracted smile on Sam's end. You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing him again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing Sam again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<else>><</if>> "So you //can// get ready quickly..." Willem mutters, ruffling his wet mop and backing away to give the two of you some space. Sam makes a dismissive puffing sound with his mouth, grinning impishly at you. "So what're you doing here?" [[Get straight to the point. "Do you want to come to the festival with us?" (Patient -)|Chap2Scene89c1][$patient to $patient - 2]] [[Talk with him a little, first. It's been a day or two since you've seen one another. "What have you been doing?"|Chap2Scene89c2]]

He grins. "Two weeks as neighbours, and you still address me that way? Must I roll around in the forest with my son for you to simply call me Willem?" You brush past his remark. "Can Sam come with me and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> to the fair?" The question is slightly blunt, but you're on a mission. "Oh!" Willem looks surprised at your request, but goes right into thinking about it--that's promising. Most times when Uncle Callen wants to tell you no, but doesn't want to let you down, he'll tell you he's "thinkin' about it, $callenChild!", but you can already tell he's made up his mind and will just tell you no later. "I had intended on taking the boy to church with me ... but I would not wish to deprive him of his fun on a day as pleasant as this one, hm? It has never been his favourite thing, either. I would prefer he learns to enjoy attending as I did, rather than have the faith forced upon him: perhaps the fair can do what I have failed at thus far." He laughs, and nods. "Yes, of course he can attend with you. I presume your <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> is willing to take him?" <<if $patient < 50>>You nod hurriedly. Yes, yes! Just ask Sam, already!<<else>>You nod in affirmation, wondering where Sam might be.<</if>> Willem claps his hands. "Very well, then!" He turns his head, calling out behind him with a loud bellow, "Samuel! Someone is at the door for you!" There's a distant thundering of feet on steps, and moments later Sam is at his father's side, squeezing between him and the doorframe to see just who's come calling. The boy's hair is wet and matted to his head, his curls appearing almost brown. He's clearly not dressed for the festivites, looking more like he just threw the nearest set of clothes on than anything. <<if $samRelationship >= 50>>"$firstname!" He cheers, giving you a loose-limbed wave. "I was just having a bath!"<<else>>"Oh, it's you!" He pauses a moment, looking you over cautiously. "I was just having a bath!"<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>His greeting is accompanied by a moment of lingering silence between the two of you, and a soft, distracted smile on Sam's end. You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing him again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>You feel yourself beginning to smile upon just seeing Sam again, and stifle it lest he notice.<<else>><</if>> "So you //can// get ready quickly..." Willem mutters, ruffling his wet mop and backing away to give the two of you some space. Sam makes a dismissive puffing sound with his mouth, grinning impishly at you. "So what're you doing here?" [[Get straight to the point. "Do you want to come to the festival with us?" (Patient -)|Chap2Scene89c1][$patient to $patient - 2]] [[Talk with him a little, first. It's been a day or two since you've seen one another. "What have you been doing?"|Chap2Scene89c2]]

<<if $samRomance > 0>>"Would you, um..." You begin shakily, suddenly a bit self-conscious, "maybe like to come to the fair with me and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>? You're allowed and everything, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she's<<else>>he's<</if>> already said yes."<<else>>"Would you like to come to the fair with me and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>? You're allowed and everything, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she's<<else>>he's<</if>> already said yes."<</if>> Sam's eyes bulge out of his head, and he whips around to look at his father who just nods in confirmation. A big intake of breath later, and he's back to facing you. "//YES//! Oh, you're not jokin' or anything, right? Some of the kids play jokes 'cause I don't know much about this place, but you're being for real?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"On second thought..." You hum jokingly, making to step away from him. He grabs your sleeve tightly, not letting go. "Don't you dare!" You laugh when he finally lets go, and nod. "I'm being serious. I want you to come with us!"<<else>>"Yeah, I'm being serious!" You laugh<<if $samRelationship > 50>>, though feel a little irritated that some of his new friends here feel like it's okay to mess with him in that way. You know Sam can take care of himself. But still, friends look after their friends, don't they? That doesn't seem very friendly...<<else>>.<</if>> "I want you to come with us!"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene89.5]]

Sam smiles quizzically, as if you've just asked him if he likes eating dirt. "...Taking a bath?" He giggles. And pa says I've got a bad memory!" <<if $volatile > 50>>You roll your eyes. "Not what I meant, Sam!" He snickers louder. "I knew that! //Maybe...//"<<else>>"Oh--" You pause. "I meant, what have you been doing before that?" He snickers louder. "Don't worry, $samNick. I knew what you meant! //Maybe...//"<</if>> He then taps his chin, deep in thought. <<if $samFriends != "notFriends">>"There's this girl I know, Amelie. Well, I visited her house the other day, and apparently her older brother's this big name knight for some Lord. Anyway, he has all these swords and sets of armour and it's //so// amazing! He's gonna let me spar with him next time I visit!"<<else>>"You know Amelie, yeah? Well, I visited her house the other day, and apparently her older brother's this big name knight for some Lord. Anyway, he has all these swords and sets of armour and it's //so// amazing! He's gonna let me spar with him next time I visit!"<</if>> "Do you know how to swordfight?" You question, looking him over dubiously. "Well--no..." He drawls, "but that's what sparring's for, innit? Learnin' and stuff." "Good luck then." You giggle, imagining how much of a handful he might be in an actual training session. He might have Uncle Callen beaten in terms of his capacity for getting distracted... "So, what was it you wanted to say? Or didja just want to interrupt my nice bath?" He accentuates his point with a shake of his head, flicking little droplets of water from his shaggy mop. You narrowly avoid getting hit, and prepare to speak. <<if $samRomance > 0>>"Would you, um..." You begin shakily, suddenly a bit self-conscious, "maybe like to come to the fair with me and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>? You're allowed and everything, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she's<<else>>he's<</if>> already said yes."<<else>>"Would you like to come to the fair with me and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>? You're allowed and everything, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she's<<else>>he's<</if>> already said yes."<</if>> Sam's eyes bulge out of his head, and he whips around to look at his father who just nods in confirmation. A big intake of breath later, and he's back to facing you. "//YES//! Oh, you're not jokin' or anything, right? Some of the kids play jokes 'cause I don't know much about this place, but you're being for real?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"On second thought..." You hum jokingly, making to step away from him. He grabs your sleeve tightly, not letting go. "Don't you dare!" You laugh when he finally lets go, and nod. "I'm being serious. I want you to come with us!"<<else>>"Yeah, I'm being serious!" You laugh<<if $samRelationship > 50>>, though feel a little irritated that some of his new friends here feel like it's okay to mess with him in that way. You know Sam can take care of himself. But still, friends look after their friends, don't they? That doesn't seem very friendly... "I want you to come with us!"<<else>>. "I want you to come with us!"<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene89.5]]

Sam's cobalt eyes shine. "I've never been to a big festival..." He half-whispers, as if speaking too loudly might dash away his chances of going with you. "Well, $firstname" begins Willem, "the only question that remains is: when are you leaving?" "My <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> said in about an hour." He nods sagely. "Very well, we'll be over then. Samuel, back in the bath with you. Be swift, please? I shouldn't like to keep $firstname's guardian waiting because you cannot decide on the right shirt." "But they're all so //scratchy//!" The boy moans, turning back inside to head upstairs. Just before you think he's left without saying goodbye, he suddenly remembers you and runs back. "Thanks, $firstname! See you soon, yeah?" His look is bright, full of anticipation for today's events<<if $samRomance == 2>>, tinged with something else that only pops up when he's looking at you.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>, and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy that you could make him feel that way.<<else>>.<</if>> You nod, smiling, and step away to return home. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Well?" Uncle Callen smiles. He takes one look at your face and his smile manages to widen. "I'm assumin' it's good news?" "He's allowed to come with us!" You beam. "His father said he'll bring him in an hour, when we're going. Can I play in my room until then?" "Of course ye can!" He smiles. Once you have your confirmation, you bound upstairs.<<else>>"Judging by that look on your face, I'm assuming that I'll be ferrying around two festival-hyper <<if $agab == "male">>boys?"<<else>>kids?"<</if>> Aunt Sonia says morosely. "He's allowed to come with us!" You beam. "His father said he'll bring him in an hour, when we're going. Can I play in my room until then?" "Go right ahead, kid." Aunt Sonia shrugs. "It'll give me time to prepare for my toughest mission yet." She adds with a wink. "Oh, and don't //somehow// get dirty, alright? There's only so much I can take today, what with Archer spending two entire hours here just now..." You don't really listen to her as she rambles on, bounding upstairs once you have your confirmation.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene90]]

Upon seeing you, Sam brightens. "Hiya, $samNick!" <<if $samNick isnot $firstname>>"Hello $nickForSam!" You share a silly smirk with him, while the two adults in the room have no idea why you're calling one another such silly things. You stick your tongue out at Sam upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, walking over to join the little crowd that's gathered near the door.<<else>><<if $cold > 50>>"Hello." You say simply upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, ambling over to join the little crowd that's gathered near the door.<<else>>"Hey!" You call out upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, skipping over to join the little crowd that's gathered near the door.<</if>><</if>> "Well hello, $firstname!" Willem smiles at you with scrunched-up eyes. "It has been so long, have you grown some?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">><<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Yep. I'll be bigger than you soon." You retort. "An' me, as well, eh?" Uncle Callen chuckles at your side. "Yeah, maybe!"<<else>>You tilt your head, confused. "...You saw me just before?" "He's havin ya on, $callenChild." Uncle Callen chuckles at your side. "Oh!" You shrink into your collar. "I knew that..." Sam snickers. "Sure you did!"<</if>><<else>><<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Yep! I'll be bigger than you soon." You retort. "Gods, I hope not." Aunt Sonia mutters at your side. "I fear to know what'll happen once you outsize me." "I'll rule with an iron fist!" You retort, giggling when she ducks into a fighting position.<<else>>You tilt your head, confused. "...You saw me just before?" "Eight years with your Uncle Callen and I, and you can't recognize a joke?" Aunt Sonia laughs at your side. "I might regret saying it, but I think you need to spend more time with Archer, kid." <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>You shrug. "Wouldn't be so bad!"<<else>>You grimace in discomfort. "Yuck."<</if>><</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene94a]]

Upon seeing you, Sam waves. "Hey, $samNick!" After that, he goes back to looking around the room curiously. You stride over to join the little crowd that's gathered near the door. being <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen<<else>>Aunt Sonia<</if>> and Willem. "Well hello, $firstname!" Willem smiles at you with scrunched-up eyes. "It has been so long, have you grown some?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">><<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Yep. I'll be bigger than you soon." You retort. "An' me, as well, eh?" Uncle Callen chuckles at your side. "Yeah, maybe!"<<else>>You tilt your head, confused. "...You saw me just before?" "He's havin ya on, $callenChild." Uncle Callen chuckles at your side. "Oh!" You shrink into your collar. "I knew that..." Sam snickers, bounding over. "Sure you did!"<</if>><<else>><<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Yep! I'll be bigger than you soon." You retort. "Gods, I hope not." Aunt Sonia mutters at your side. "I fear to know what'll happen once you outsize me." "I'll rule with an iron fist!" You retort, giggling when she ducks into a fighting position.<<else>>You tilt your head, confused. "...You saw me just before?" "Eight years with your Uncle Callen and I, and you can't recognize a joke?" Aunt Sonia laughs at your side. "I might regret saying it, but I think you need to spend more time with Archer, kid." <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>You shrug. "Wouldn't be so bad!"<<else>>You grimace in discomfort. "Yuck."<</if>><</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene94a]]

Willem shifts suddenly. "I think it time I left the three of you to enjoy your day, is it not? Samuel, come here." He requests, and the boy does so. "You're not walking with us?" His brow furrows slightly. Sam's father shakes his head sadly. "The church here is in the opposite direction to much of the fair, if the maps I have read were correct..." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"They are." Uncle Callen confirms. "Churches were one o' the first things built in these places, so they're pretty set-in-stone, if ye'll pardon the joke..."<<else>>"You're right, Willem." Aunt Sonia confirms. "It's tough to get the location of practically the //first// building that popped up in this city wrong on a map."<</if>> He smiles. "There we have it." [[Next|Chap2Scene95a]]

Sam frowns uncertainly. "Don't get lost, okay? It's pretty easy to, this one time I--" He pauses while Willem lifts a scrutinous eyebrow. "...Never mind. Promise, though?" Willem chuckles. "Yes, I promise. As long as you promise to listen to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia as well." She smiles at the two of them, all teeth. "I'm sure we're gonna have the best of times. Right, Sam?" You almost hear him gulp as he hurriedly nods. "Yep! We are!"<<else>>Callen as well." He laughs heartily. "These two'll be havin' to keep me in check, I reckon!"<</if>> Willem sighs, clutching his son's shoulder. "Well, this is goodbye for now, son. Be safe and be happy, yes?" Sam almost rolls his eyes, but repeats the mantra. "Safe and happy, I know." He leaps up, wrapping his arms around his father's neck. "See you later, pa..." [[Over Sam's shoulder, you spy Willem's sad half-smile.|Chap2Scene96a]]

//Later...// <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I knew it was gonna be busy, but this's takin' the mick, eh <<if $agab == "male">>lads?"<<else>>you two?"<</if>> Uncle Callen looks out at the bustling crowd ahead, eyes wide with apprehension.<<else>>"I'm surprised the damned city isn't sinking, to be honest." Aunt Sonia mutters, looking out at the bustling crowd ahead. Sam, at your side, shoots an alarmed look at her. "That can //happen//?" "Huh?" She snorts, but upon looking at his concerned face she sputters. "Oh--uh, no, Sam. The city can't fall out of the sky because too many people are on it." She waits a moment, before putting a finger to her chin and looking deep in thought. "Actually, it's never been studied, so..." The boy groans. "Don't say that now!"<</if>> The walk from your home to the Sola's city centre was much longer than usual, buffeted by the sheer volume of the crowds spread through the streets, most built far too narrowly to accommodate a populace this massive. Far in the horizon is the black-and-silver spire of the Bladeweavers' Citadel, a tower of cracked stone built inside and around an ancient arena, thought to have been created when Sola might have sat in the ground below. Another jutting shape, weathered stone draped with various banners and flags, must surely be the arena for today's exhibition, where events like a tournament with jousting and other physical competitions will take place. Of course, the exhibition will occur at the end of everything else as a display of support from the Bladeweavers to the Empyrean church, the primary backer of today's festivities. [["How much longer?" You whine. (Patient --)|Chap2Scene97a1][$patient to $patient - 4]] [[You turn to Sam. "Have you ever been to festivals like this?"|Chap2Scene97a2]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen crosses his arms. "As long as it takes, $callenChild. Not much longer, now, we just need t'get past this crowd an' then we'll be in the festival proper. Excitin', eh?" He beams, turning to Sam. "Huh?" The boy turns around suddenly, distracted by something else. "Yeah, it is! I've never been to anythin' as big as this. It's a bit scary..." He admits, grinning sheepishly at the two of you. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>><<if $cold > 50>>"Well," You pause, before sighing, "just stay with us, then you won't be scared." The explanation is a simple one to you, even if it doesn't seem to visibly soothe Sam. "Too right, $callenChild!" Uncle Callen beams down.<<else>>"Hey," you smile, trying to inject some levity to counter his worried words, "I used to be scared too, but it's not that bad. You just need to stay with us, right?" You smile warmly at him, and his expression is a slightly muted mirror of your own. You think it helped a little bit. "Too right, $callenChild!" Uncle Callen beams down at the two of you.<</if>><<else>>You attempt a little placating smile upon hearing his worried admission, but don't have much else to offer. "Everythin' will be fine, lad, as long as we all stick close by. Consider it a promise." Uncle Callen beams down at the two of you.<</if>><<else>>Aunt Sonia taps her foot on the old cobblestone path impatiently, a much larger mirror of yourself. She runs a hand through her hair--now grown out a little from its nearly-bald state a few weeks ago--and suddenly smirks. "What'd you have me do, eh? Much as I'd like to barge through all these people, more than a few of them have guards. You prepared to get thrown in jail with me for disturbing the peace?" She smirks again, much more challengingly. <<if $cautious > 50>>You blanch. "Um, nope."<<else>>"Maybe!" You fire back, matching her intensity.<</if>> She laughs through her nose. "I don't expect it'll be much longer, kid. Crowds like these tend to filter through fairly quick once things get going." She spares a glance at Sam, who's currently distracted, and speaks again. "You been to a festival like this before, Sam?" "Huh?" The boy turns around suddenly, distracted by something else. "Oh, not really. I've never been to anythin' as big as this, at least. It's a bit scary..." He admits, grinning sheepishly at the two of you. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>><<if $cold > 50>>"Well," You pause, before sighing, "just stay with us, then you won't be scared." The explanation is a simple one to you, even if it doesn't seem to visibly soothe Sam. "This one's got the right idea, Sammy." Aunt Sonia winks. He frowns at her usage of the name she knows he doesn't like, but doesn't say anything.<<else>>"Hey," you smile, trying to inject some levity to counter his worried words, "I used to be scared too, but it's not that bad. You just need to stay with us, right?" You smile warmly at him, and his expression is a slightly muted mirror of your own. You think it helped a little bit. "This one's got the right idea, Sammy." Aunt Sonia winks. He frowns at her usage of the name she knows he doesn't like, but doesn't say anything.<</if>><<else>>You attempt a little placating smile upon hearing his worried admission, but don't have much else to offer. "Stick with us and you won't go wrong, Sammy." Aunt Sonia winks. He frowns at her usage of the name she knows he doesn't like, but doesn't say anything.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene98a]]

The boy doesn't seem to regard your question at all, instead opting to peer curiously up at the array of well-dressed attendees that surround you, like a fog of gaudy resplendence. They //have// to be warm, these powdered ladies and padded lords, but they don't show it. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Hey!" You snap your fingers, making him jolt.<<else>>"Sam?" You try again, nudging his arm with your own.<</if>> "Wuh--yeah?" He turns quickly, looking at you. "What is it?" You try again. "Have you ever been to a fair like this?" "Nuh-uh," he shakes his head strongly, pushing some errant curls out of the way when the motion disturbs them, "nothin' as big as this, at least. It's a bit scary..." He whispers, leaning in to tell you so while smiling sheepishly. <<if $samRelationship >= 55>><<if $cold > 50>>"Well," You pause, before sighing, "just stay with us, then you won't be scared." The explanation is a simple one to you, even if it doesn't seem to visibly soothe Sam. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Too right, $callenChild!" Uncle Callen beams down at the two of you.<<else>>"This one's got the right idea, Sammy." Aunt Sonia winks. He frowns at her usage of the name she knows he doesn't like, but doesn't say anything.<</if>><<else>>"Hey," you smile, trying to inject some levity to counter his worried words, "I used to be scared too, but it's not that bad. You just need to stay with us, right?" You smile warmly at him, and his expression is a slightly muted mirror of your own. You think it helped a little bit. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Too right, $callenChild!" Uncle Callen beams down at the two of you.<<else>>"This one's got the right idea, Sammy." Aunt Sonia winks. He frowns at her usage of the name she knows he doesn't like, but doesn't say anything.<</if>><</if>><<else>>You attempt a little placating smile upon hearing his worried admission, but don't have much else to offer. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Everythin' will be fine, lad, as long as we all stick close by. Consider it a promise." Uncle Callen beams down at the two of you.<<else>>"Stick with us and you won't go wrong, Sammy." Aunt Sonia winks. He frowns at her usage of the name she knows he doesn't like, but doesn't say anything.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene98a]]

After some more waiting<<if $patient < 50>> (and a not-insignificant amount of grumbling from you)<<else>>,<</if>> the crowd finally begins to filter through into the city's central plaza: a wide, expansive area with few buildings that's been absolutely crammed with attractions and tents of all sorts for the festival. //Before// that, though, you've been informed that a ceremony is to take place at the very heart of the plaza, outside the City Hall's expansive doors. Like the Bladeweavers' Citadel, it is built within an ancient arena, with many of its rooms repurposed for 'political drudgery' as Archer calls it. Attending is hardly the most exciting prospect, as even as you walk by you spot dozens of potential attractions. A fortune-teller, really? There are even performance tents set up, where flashes of wild colours burst from within: a tell-tale sign of a light-show. Larger sections of the plaza have been boxed out for contests, too, whereone may test their physical prowess. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia might have liked to try those, it's a pity she isn't here.<<else>>Uncle Callen might have liked to try those, it's a pity he isn't here.<</if>> Sam regards it all with wide eyes, grinning furiously at street performers who juggle things that ought not to be juggled, or illusionists conjuring all sorts of images--massive flaming horses with an impossible number of wings, a dancing sprite who does so many flips it makes you a little bit dizzy to watch, and more that you can barely wrap your head around. Massive white flags bearing a blazing golden sun flutter in the sparse wind, hung high above your head on posts and the sides of buildings. They're often flanked by the flag of Telfrin--half-red, half-black, with a similar-but-distinct golden sun on the left and a crimson eagle carrying a sceptre on the right. A golden crown sits in the centre of the flag, uniting the other two symbols under one authority. A majority of Telfrin's populace worship Sola and, by extension, the entire Pantheon of Light that He is considered the head of. The Bladeweavers are considered a religious institution with close ties to the Empyrean Church, so you're relentlessly drilled on the different Gods and which 'group' they belong to. As far as you know, there are just the two Pantheons, that of Light and Shade. Sola, of the sun and light, heads up the former while His opposite, calm moonlit Noctome, is worshipped as the figurehead of the latter in countries like Vengard and, more recently, the Abrian Empire. Abria, with their relatively recent conquering of some of Telfrin's northernmost territories, now also more closely favour Gelor, God of the Cold, who also belongs to the Pantheon of Shade. With tensions rising between Vengard and Abria, the former has begun to shift its focus to other Gods, such as Ventol, Goddess of Winds. Some Gods, like Belrom and Aquonar, of war and water respectively, are rarely attributed to either pantheon owing to the chaotic nature of their worship. Though, Aquonar's distance from any pantheon is in part due to the Risen City of Aquonar's actual physical distance from the continent of Phanol, too--it is located in far-off Liskiya to the east, an entire ocean away from Phanol. Due to stigma surrounding the ocean's deep-blue depths, she is not an overly popular goddess here, nor is she in the land her city resides in. However, that is for entirely different reasons. Liskiya is regarded by many as a heretical land, where Fallen live freely and worship their own prophets with strange-sounding names, like //Paii//... something. You can't really remember, it's not as if Liskiya's customs are something you're taught very much about in the first place. [[Next|Chap2Scene99a]]

You come to a stop once another crowd gathers, this time around a large stand built before the doors to the City Hall. The frenzied chatter of what likely amounts to more than a thousand attendees buzzes in your ears almost painfully, and a quick look at Sam suggests he's hardly the most comfortable with the noise level either. Thankfully, a loud ringing from the building above seems to quiet the tumult, and a sudden silence passes over the gathered crowd. A rising cacophany of shrill trumpets comes next, shocking anyone left speaking into silence. "What's going on?" You ask <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen. "Mayor's makin' a speech before things kick off." He whispers.<<else>>Aunt Sonia. She stoops a little to mutter, "Mister Mayor himself's gonna big his sponsors up and waste our time for a bit. Buckle up." She sighs.<</if>> It's moments later that you would have found out had you not asked, when a booming, authoritative voice reverberates through the packed plaza, echoing down the narrow, winding streets beyond. "Gathered friends, visitors and dignitaries of all stations--domestic or otherwise." the voice, a man's, echoes around the space, amplified by some unseen source. By craning your neck you can spot the speaker, a thin man in a relatively drab-looking getup, at least compared to those around him: what look like various magicians and guards, dressed as a festival for a god would demand of them. "I bid you a warm welcome to our haven high in the sky, no matter your creed or country. All are welcome beneath Sola's rays on this day. Our errant Gods might not walk this earth, yet we can be assured we are doing Them proud with examples such as this." This tall man must be Mayor Faibal, leader of Sola's city-state. He speaks with a gentle adroitness, a practiced ease that must have been honed through hours of rehearsal beforehand. He has a thoughtful look about him, with a square face and angular features that hardly seem to move as he speaks. One might not even know how he felt in a moment, because his face would betray practically nothing. You imagine that might be helpful in the world of politics, <<if $volatile > 50>>and make a mental note not to try to get involved in the future, with how expressive you can be.<<else>>and make a mental note to consider it in the future, with how calm you can come across.<</if>> You chuckle to yourself at the thought of you getting into //politics// of all things, and can only imagine what Aunt Sonia would say. [[Next|Chap2Scene100a]]

Mayor Faibal takes a breath, hands folded at his front, hidden beneath the flowing sleeves of his well-fitted robe. "It is important that, on beautiful days such as these, the true purpose of the festivals we hold is not forgotten. The Twelve, in Their wisdom, sealed a great evil away in the time before history was recorded, and we await Their return still. This solstice shall bestow us with a boon of Sola's light, and the renewal of that ancient promise. May The Twelve return, in the form of the Ascendant: Many who are One." Once he finishes, a muttered "Many who are One" spreads through the crowd, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>and Aunt Sonia even murmurs the words too, though not with much conviction.<<else>>though Uncle Callen says nothing at all.<</if>> Ahead of you, somebody snorts quietly. A tall man, with reddish-brown hair and a pointed beard that sprouts only from his chin, shushes him. "Alain, do stop it!" The shorter man, Alain, rolls his brown eyes. "Do you really think he believes a word of it, Gilles? I'm sure that speech was practically //written// by the crown, if not personally handed to him by the King..." "You two speak as if we are not surrounded by ears, you damnable fools." A lady, simply dressed save for a sparkling brooch depicting a rearing goat upon her chest, huffs. "I should think my husband would know better than to gossip in the open." Alain chuckles condescendingly. "I do apolgise, //beloved//. Tell me, Gilles. What do you think of the festival, then? Anything like this in the north?" "Such a wonderful display, isn't it?" Gilles smirks cheekily, playing into his companion's mockery. "Indeed, though one must wonder how much of it came from the King's coffers. He doesn't even attend these bloody things." That makes his wife huff again, staring daggers at her husband. "His Majesty may do with his gold as he sees fit, as you well know." She responds coolly. "Do come off it, Marie. We're not in court anymore." The tall man rolls his eyes. "I suppose if //wise// Thibau believes these displays will further Telfrini splendour, then they're a worthy expense. What other reason would he have for eschewing worship of the Shaded Five when every accepted text promotes dodecatheism?" Alain shrugs. "Well, he's certainly hedged his bets with Sola. Get enough people worked up about one God and they'll rip anyone who prefers another to pieces. That's usually how it goes..." Alain hums. "Even their supposed allies in Shade-following nations, hm?" Marie looks discomforted. "We shall speak no more of this, you two." With that, they shuffle away, seeming to merge into the gaudy crowd altogether. You turn to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia, wondering if she caught any of that, but she seems distracted by something.<<else>>Uncle Callen, wondering if he caught any of that, but he seems distracted by something.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene101a]]

"Before you all engage in today's revelry, of which I am assured there is an abundance of," Mayor Faibal pauses to smile as light, polite laughter spreads through the crowd, "I must first give thanks to a special few, who have seen fit to lend their support for today's most sacred goings-on." Mayor Faibal lifts his right hand, beckoning a few unfamiliar figures up to the stage with him. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia snorts derisively, and you glance at her in confusion before seeing who it is that's appeared beside the mayor.<<else>>Uncle Callen hums in thought, and you glance at him in confusion before seeing who it is that's appeared beside the mayor.<</if>> "Who's that?" Sam whispers, trying to be quiet even though murmured whispers persist even as the mayor himself speaks. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"A major headache, is what she is." Aunt Sonia sighs.<<else>>"The most terrifying lady that ain't my mother I ever saw, lad." Uncle Callen mutters.<</if>> A severe-looking woman, much older-looking than even Uncle Callen, appears beside him. Her hair, worn in a simple, long braid and streaked more grey than gold, seems to frame her scrutinous face without covering any of her pinched features. She wears a thin, silken cloak atop a dress that seems more like armour than a piece of fashion, wrought from dark mail and ornately-patterned damask, silver-green and blood-red. A pair of wicked-looking Empyrean sickles hang from her hip. "Mistress Enota, Grandmaster of the Bladeweavers' Order, has pledged the finest Bladeweaver Knights of her own choosing as security for this most important of days, as well as one of their finest warriors, to fight a mystery opponent in today's exhibitonary due!" For the first time, Mayor Faibal smiles, and this scary-looking Grandmaster flashes him a coolly appreciative look. "Isn't she the leader of the Order in Sola?" You ask. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Thankfully, not for long." Aunt Sonia replies, glaring at the far-off lady. "Just until Abraham comes back from his travels. You remember Abe, don't you?"<<else>>"Only for a little while, $callenChild." Uncle Callen replies, turning his narrowed eyes from her to you. "The leader of Sola's chapter is off travellin' Vengard, I believe. D'you remember him, $callenChild? Abraham's his name. We visited him once, when y'were littler."<</if>> You do remember somebody like that, only vaguely. He looked at you with a sort of //excitement// in his dark eyes, and Aunt Sonia was fairly cold with him, even though he'd just been congratulating her on becoming a Master. [[You shrug, avoiding the question. "I don't really remember him."|Chap2Scene102a1]] [[You turn your nose up. "He was really strange." (Honesty +)|Chap2Scene102a2][$honesty to $honesty + 1]] [[You shrug. He was really strange, but you're not about to say that. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene102a1][$honesty to $honesty - 1]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I don't blame ya, $callenChild. Not much to remember with that man. Simple in his ways, but shrewd as any Weaver that gets where he got. Wish I'd known that when I was startin' out..." He says with a sigh. "In fact, ye owe yer future place in the Order to him, in a way."<<else>>"Not much to remember with that one, really." She laughs at your response. "I've never met anyone as boring." She pauses, thinking about something, before apparently making a decision. "He's the one who let us keep you, you know. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't made that call. It's strange, really, how things come together." She looks wistful, if that's the right word for it.<</if>> You furrow your brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Well--" he sputters for a moment, clearly not having intended to say that, "it's a long time ago now, but old Abe managed to convince the others in the Order to let us take you to ward. Alternative was ye'd end up somewhere on the surface, $callenChild. Ain't ya happy ye ended up here, eh?" He smiles cheekily. <<if $callenClose <= 45>>"Dunno," you shrug, equally as cheekily, "it might be good down there without you." He chuckles. "Me heart bleeds, $callenChild. Such a venomous little thing y'are."<<else>>You nod quickly. "Yeah..."<</if>><<else>>"A long time ago, back when your Uncle Callen could stand up straight, Grandmaster Abraham was convinced to let us take you as a ward, though at cost to us. That's how you ended up with me and Cal, kid." "Really?" You gape, shocked. "I thought maybe--" "You were dropped off by a stork, or given passage like some fairytale? Sorry, kid, you're not nearly sweet enough to be like those little $child<<nobr>>s<</nobr>> from your books." She smirks, and you <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>look shocked at her insult, but giggle.<<else>>frown at her insult, even as she laughs at your response.<</if>><</if>> "You really are somethin', $samNick." Sam speaks for the first time in a while, listening intently the whole time. "I never met a kid with a story like that. It's like a real tale, you know?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia smirks, and a glance from you stops any reference to a fairytale she might have wanted to make.<<else>>Uncle Callen chuckles. "Aye, the tale of $firstname is somethin' I'd read any day."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene103a]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He laughs. "Ha! Well, that's one way to put it. Old Abe's simple in his ways, but shrewd as any Weaver that gets where he got. Wish I'd known that when I was startin' out..." He says with a sigh. "In fact, ye owe yer future place in the Order to him, in a way."<<else>>She laughs at your response. "I guess he is, but I've never met anyone as boring." She pauses, thinking about something, before apparently making a decision. "He's the one who let us keep you, you know. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't made that decision. It's strange, really, how all this comes together." She looks wistful, if that's the right word for it.<</if>> You furrow your brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Well--" he sputters for a moment, clearly not having intended to say that, "it's a long time ago now, but old Abe managed to convince the others in the Order to let us take you as our ward. Alternative was ye'd end up somewhere on the surface, $callenChild. Ain't ya happy ye ended up here, eh?" He smiles cheekily. <<if $callenClose <= 45>>"Dunno," you shrug, equally as cheekily, "it might be good down there without you." He chuckles. "Me heart bleeds, $callenChild. Such a venomous little thing y'are."<<else>>You nod quickly. "Yeah..."<</if>><<else>>"A long time ago, back when your Uncle Callen could stand up straight, Grandmaster Abraham was convinced to let us take you as a ward, though at cost to us. That's how you ended up with me and Cal, kid." "Really?" You gape, shocked. "I thought maybe--" "You were dropped off by a stork, or given passage like some fairytale? Sorry, kid, you're not nearly sweet enough to be like those little $child<<nobr>>s<</nobr>> from your books." She smirks, and you <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>look shocked at her insult, but giggle.<<else>>frown at her insult, even as she laughs at your response.<</if>><</if>> "You really are somethin', $samNick." Sam speaks for the first time in a while, listening intently the whole time. "I never met a kid with a story like that. It's like a real tale, you know?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia smirks, and a glance from you stops any reference to a fairytale she might have wanted to make.<<else>>Uncle Callen chuckles. "Aye, the tale of $firstname is somethin' I'd read any day."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene103a]]

<<set $ch2MentorFT to "no">>"And, of course," the monotone mayor continues, "Sola's representatives from the Empyrean Church, who so diligently maintain the Sun God's temple in this very city, are our honoured guests this day, among many others from Telfrin's great houses. Though, I must bring word from one in particular: Lord Darion, of the most-revered house Maren, regrets his absence today. The good Lord pledges a boon to our city's great temple in the stead of his much-missed presence. May Sola keep him warm and safe, eternal." A flurry of hushed murmuring spreads through the crowd, brought to life by mention of that particular lord. It seems that, now the speech is over, everyone feels content to get moving. You stick close to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>, Sam always close-by, as you try to find your own way through the crowd. It's when you end up queueing behind a trio of nobles, not the same as before but certainly equally as well-dressed, that yet more gossip fills your unwitting ears. "I had never known Lord Darion as anything other than a good man, and a kind steward of his people. To sire a bastard in secret..." Says a darker-skinned man, with gold-and-silver rings adoring the long threads of his thick hair. "The heart wants what it wants, I suppose. It's a small cruelty, really. Bastards rarely do well at court, especially the girls." A tall lady, wearing a silken headdress, breathes airily. She's so pale she almost glows in the sunlight. "But to hide it away for ten years ... What do you think made him change his mind?" A third questions, more curiosity than genuine concern in their amber-brown eyes, which are surrounded by tiny glittering gemstones that twinkle as the light catches them. "Lady Peima just had her second child, did she not? Perhaps he felt //guilty//." The lady replies, with barely-disguised disdain for this Lord Maren. "I hear the girl's mother had recently passed." "How terrible..." "And the child's name ... Talia, was it?" "Indeed." "Talia, Bastard of House Maren ... may she have the strength to survive court." The dark-skinned man whistles. The gathered nobles share a morose chuckle as <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's fists clench tightly.<<else>>Uncle Callen makes a barely-audible sound of disapproval.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene104a]]

Sam whistles, taking in the packed plaza before him. "There's //so// much to do here. What do you wanna do first?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Whatever seems most fun." Aunt Sonia bumps your shoulder with her knuckles, nodding at Sam. "Just don't try and get my face painted, this ugly mug's mine to show off."<<else>>"Anythin' we want!" Uncle Callen smiles down at you and then at Sam, "Eh, long as it's not requirin' any hand-eye coordination on my part. Head's still a little wonky."<</if>> There are a few tents that seem like they'd be fun to take a look at, as well as some other attractions that appeal to your young self. With that in mind... <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0>>[[You head towards the fortune teller's tent, marked with a bright blue eye.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam][$chap2FortuneTeller to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2ArcheryTent == 0>>[[An area sectioned off for an archery competition catches your eye.|Chap2ArcherySam][$chap2ArcheryTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2StrengthTest == 0>>[[You decide to try your hand at a strength test: the classic hammer and bell.|Chap2StrengthTestSam][$chap2StrengthTest to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2LightShow == 0>>[[That tent flashing with brilliant light you saw before seems interesting.|Chap2LightShowSam][$chap2LightShow to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2MagicTent== 0>>[[A big purple tent, adorned with gold, gets your attention. It looks like a mage's tent.|Chap2MagicTentSam][$chap2MagicTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> [[You don't want to do anything. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105a]]

"That one looks interesting." You say, pointing to the tent emblazoned with a pale blue open eye: a symbol commonly associated with the Goddess Zofin, patron of knowledge and wisdom. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"A fortune teller, huh?" Aunt Sonia doesn't look particularly excited to go in. "Last fortune teller I had told me to expect a happy marriage and a calm future. It's hard to say which one he was //more// wrong about." She snorts.<<else>>"Oh, a fortune teller!" Uncle Callen looks quite excited. "Never 'ad the chance to have a readin', in all me years. Should be interestin', eh?" "Aren't you already old, Mister Callen?" Sam asks innocently, not understanding why the grey-haired giant balks at his entirely sincere question. "Hasn't your fortune ... well, already happened?" After taking a moment to recover, Uncle Callen responds as sagely as he rightfull can, "There's always more to be found out, wee lad. Even at my ripe age! I'm sure ye'll both come to understand that."<</if>> [[Enter the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam2]]

"Ooh, archery!" Sam grins, pointing at the sign--upon which is a nice drawing of an archer mid-draw, a little tail of hair flowing behind her as she makes that classic archer's position. <<if $chap2Archery == "dislikeVocal">>"Yuck," you mutter, though go anyway. It passes the time, doesn't it?<<elseif $chap2Archery == "dislikeQuiet">>Yuck. You go anyway, despite your misgivings about archery. It at least passes the time...<<else>>Oh, perfect! A chance to test your skills again. Your last few sessions in the forest have been quite fruitful.<</if>> "Did you know," Sam chatters away as <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>,thinking it a good test of the skills you've been learning for months, signs the two of you up for the children's bout--<<if $cautious < 50>>though you could probably hold your own against the older groups, you note with distaste<<else>>fitting for Sam, but you have genuine training<</if>>. "There used to be this kingdom in Abria where they'd train their archers to ride on horses //and// shoot at the same time? Can you imagine that?" He stares with wide eyes at nothing in particular, "I don't even know if I can shoot a bow stood up, and I //definitely// can't ride a horse. I bet they'll teach you all that when you become a Weaver, though!" [[Just nod along and agree with everything he says. Sam's a bit of a force of nature when it comes to ... talking. (Stubborn -)|Chap2ArcherySam2a][$stubborn to $stubborn - 1]] [[You certainly do your best to keep up with him in conversation, though it's quite the challenge. (Stubborn +, Cold -)|Chap2ArcherySam2b][$stubborn to $stubborn + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[Your eyes glaze over and his chattering turns to a dull buzz in your ear as you zone out. (Cold +)|Chap2ArcherySam2c][$cold to $cold + 1]] <<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">>[["Maybe one day," you agree. "I do like archery..."|Chap2ArcherySam2d]]<<else>>[["I don't really like archery all that much," you admit.|Chap2ArcherySam2e]]<</if>>

It is a wide, stout tent, completely shrouded from the outside world with a door built into its frame. Scattered light, brilliant and multicoloured, shines through a small gap beneath it. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Looks like that's our light show," Aunt Sonia says, striding right up to the door where a woman in a shimmering robe stands.<<else>>"Let's go on in, then," Uncle Callen says, as you all approach the door where a woman in a shimmering robe stands.<</if>> "A good afternoon to you," she smiles sweetly, coiling ringlets of auburn hair framing her round face. "How many for the show?" Her brown eyes twinkle in the sun as she awaits an answer. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia, suddenly all smiles, replies kindly, "Just two, love. I lost my taste for light shows a long while ago." "Very good," the reddish-haired lady nods, holding out a small ink stamp. "If you will simply put out your hands, I can mark you all with this symbol. It will resonate so that you do not lose your children once the show is done." "Oh, only one of them's mine," Aunt Sonia says hurriedly. She certainly is acting strangely. "Thank the Gods, I'm nearly swamped with just one." "Hey!" You protest, holding out your hand anyway. You want to see what's in this place. "Yep, that's right!" Sam chirps, hands proudly on his hips. "My pa's at church, so Miss Sonia's watching me. Did you know she's a Weaver? And, and so is $firstname, only $they isn't one //yet//, 'cause $they's too little, but--" He is interrupted by the stamp pressing on his outstretched hand, marking the back of it with a softly luminous substance in the shape of a lantern. "Ooh!" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You laugh a little. He might have kept on going forever if he hadn't been distracted by that.<<else>>Finally, something managed to shut him up...<</if>><<else>>Uncle Callen smiles warmly at her. "Just the <<if $agab == "male">>lads<<else>>littl'uns<</if>>, please. I reckon I'd take up too much space!" He laughs, noting at how the tent is only barely taller than him. "Very good," the reddish-haired lady nods, holding out a small ink stamp. "If you will simply put out your hands, I can mark you all with this symbol. It will resonate so that you do not lose your children once the show is done." Uncle Callen chuckles at the misconception. "Only this $callenChild here's mine," he pats your shoulder softly. "Young Sam here's just my charge for the day." "Yep!" Sam chirps, hands proudly on his hips. "My pa's at church, so Mister Callen's watching me. Did you know he's a Weaver? And, and so is $firstname, only $they isn't one //yet//, 'cause $they's too little, but--" He is interrupted by the stamp pressing on his outstretched hand, marking the back of it with a softly luminous substance in the shape of a lantern. "Ooh!" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You laugh a little. He might have kept on going forever if he hadn't been distracted by that.<<else>>Finally, something managed to shut him up...<</if>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">><<if $soniaClose > 50>>You're hesitant to be apart from Aunt Sonia, but go in, wanting to see what's in this tent.<<else>>You're happy to get away from Aunt Sonia for a while, and head for the door.<</if>><<else>><<if $callenClose > 50>>You're hesitant to be apart from Uncle Callen, but go in, wanting to see what's in this tent.<<else>>You're happy to get away from Uncle Callen for a while, and head for the door.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2LightShowSam2]]

"Oh, yeah!" Sam cheers, bounding ahead of the two of you, eager to get there as soon as possible. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's eyes widen in alarm, and she sets off chasing the boy, who's already disappeared past the tent's open flaps. "I swear, if you get lost, I'll--" Her voice disappears into the space of the tent as she enters, and you're left with little choice but to follow.<<else>>Uncle Callen grimaces, increasing his pace and urging you to do the same. "Hang on a moment, lad!" He half-shouts, entering the tent with you at his side.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam2]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Oh, get in!" Aunt Sonia cackles in a childlike manner, pointing you and Sam towards a tall figure in a fenced-off section, surrounded by cheering spectators. "You kids fancy giving those muscles a try?" As you get closer, you realise it's a strength testing contraption--one has to swing a hammer as hard as possible to hit a lever which sends a piece of metal on a rail up into the sky. If it hits the bell high above, you assume that means you win. There doesn't seem to be any magic surrounding this thing. It's just ... a hammer and a bell. How odd! Sam gives his tacit approval by shuffling as far forward as he can, glancing back to your Aunt Sonia with a wicked grin on his face. "I suppose that's one taker," she laughs. "How about you, $firstname?"<<else>>"Ha, I ain't seen one of those in a while," Uncle Callen laughs, pointing to a tall figure in a fenced-off section, surrounded by cheering spectators. "Let's go an' have a closer look." As you get closer, you realise it's a strength testing contraption--one has to swing a hammer as hard as possible to hit a lever which sends a piece of metal on a rail up into the sky. If it hits the bell high above, you assume that means you win. A big sign, next to which stands the proprietor of this event, reads: //Hit the bell and double your pay!// There doesn't seem to be any magic to this thing. It's just ... a hammer and a bell. How odd! Sam gives his tacit approval by shuffling as far forward as he can, glancing back to your Uncle Callen with a wicked grin on his face. His verbal approval comes soon after. "Mister Callen, we //have// to try it. $firstname too!" He looks imploringly at you.<</if>> [["Um..." you hesitate, "I don't really want to." The whole thing seems like it could fall apart at any moment. (Cautious +)|Chap2StrengthTestSam2a][$strengthtest to "no", $stresult to "null"]] [["It looks easy," you boast. "I'll do it no problem!" (Cautious --)|Chap2StrengthTestSam2b][$cautious to $cautious - 2, $strengthtest to "yes"]] [["I'll give it a try," you shrug.|Chap2StrengthTestSam2c][$strengthtest to "yes"]] [[You shake your head, content to just watch.|Chap2StrengthTestSam2d][$strengthtest to "no", $stresult to "null"]]

<<set $ch2MentorFT to "yes">>It is pleasantly cool within the tent and, as you part the heavy fabric curtains leading in to the darkened space, a soft wind brushes against you. Given that this fortune teller is likely to be a Risen mage, they must have measures to keep the tent cool in this baking Summer sun. How thoughtful. It's .... empty inside. Not a single other soul stands in here save for you, Sam and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia.<<else>>Uncle Callen.<</if>> You'd be perturbed by the silence and relative chill of the place, were it not for your two companions. All of a sudden, a croaky voice calls out from behind //another// set of dark curtains, ones you'd previously missed due to how well they blended in with the tent's shadowed interior. <<if $agab == "male">>"Two boys<<else>>"A girl, a boy<</if>> and<<if $mentor == "Sonia">> a man the size of a bear<<else>> a lady--no, a warrior bearing the fighter's mark,<</if>> walk into my tent." The dark curtains part, and you bear witness to the figure that waits within. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam3]]

<<set $chap2FTKnow to "no">>Well, the back of the figure's head, at least. The voice, an elderly woman's, sounds out again as she turns around on a creaky, swivelling wooden chair. "Do I have that right, pets?" There's a grin in her reddish-brown eyes, and her wrinkly face carries a knowing, scrutinous look to it, though devoid of any malice. She's relatively free of any adornment, save for the topaz amulet that hangs from her neck and the chain-linked rings and bangles that sit around her hands, etched with hard-to-follow runework. [["You scared me!" (Volatile ++)|Chap2FortuneTellerSam4a][$volatile to $volatile + 3]] [["How did you know that without seeing us?" You ask, curious.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam4b]] [["You're the fortune teller?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam4c]]

<<set $fairevents to $fairevents + 1>>"Well, what now?" Sam asks. <<if $chap2ArcheryTent == 0>>[[An area sectioned off for an archery competition catches your eye.|Chap2ArcherySam][$chap2ArcheryTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2StrengthTest == 0>>[[You decide to try your hand at a strength test: the classic hammer and bell.|Chap2StrengthTestSam][$chap2StrengthTest to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2LightShow == 0>>[[That tent flashing with brilliant light you saw before seems interesting.|Chap2LightShowSam][$chap2LightShow to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2MagicTent== 0>>[[A big purple tent, adorned with gold, gets your attention. It looks like a mage's tent.|Chap2MagicTentSam][$chap2MagicTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> [[That's all for now. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105a]]

<<set $fairevents to $fairevents + 1>><<if $chap2ArcheryComp == "won" or $chap2ArcheryComp == "draw">>Sam grins at your winner's badge. "What's next?"<<else>>"What's next?" Sam asks.<</if>> <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0>>[[You head towards the fortune teller's tent, marked with a bright blue eye.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam][$chap2FortuneTeller to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2StrengthTest == 0>>[[You decide to try your hand at a strength test: the classic hammer and bell.|Chap2StrengthTestSam][$chap2StrengthTest to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2LightShow == 0>>[[That tent flashing with brilliant light you saw before seems interesting.|Chap2LightShowSam][$chap2LightShow to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2MagicTent== 0>>[[A big purple tent, adorned with gold, gets your attention. It looks like a mage's tent.|Chap2MagicTentSam][$chap2MagicTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> [[That's all for now. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105a]]

<<set $fairevents to $fairevents + 1>><<if $stresult == "won">>Happy with the knowledge that you earned your little group some extra coin, you decide what to do next.<<elseif $stresult == "lost" or $stresult == "null">><<if $mentor == "Callen">>Happy with the knowledge that your little group has some extra coin, you decide what to do next<<else>>Although Uncle Callen wasn't able to earn his money back, he's still happy to look at some other of the fair's many attractions.<</if>><<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0>>[[You head towards the fortune teller's tent, marked with a bright blue eye.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam][$chap2FortuneTeller to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2ArcheryTent == 0>>[[An area sectioned off for an archery competition catches your eye.|Chap2ArcherySam][$chap2ArcheryTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2LightShow == 0>>[[That tent flashing with brilliant light you saw before seems interesting.|Chap2LightShowSam][$chap2LightShow to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2MagicTent== 0>>[[A big purple tent, adorned with gold, gets your attention. It looks like a mage's tent.|Chap2MagicTentSam][$chap2MagicTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> [[That's all for now. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105a]]

<<set $fairevents to $fairevents + 1>><<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0>>[[You head towards the fortune teller's tent, marked with a bright blue eye.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam][$chap2FortuneTeller to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2ArcheryTent == 0>>[[An area sectioned off for an archery competition catches your eye.|Chap2ArcherySam][$chap2ArcheryTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2StrengthTest == 0>>[[You decide to try your hand at a strength test: the classic hammer and bell.|Chap2StrengthTestSam][$chap2StrengthTest to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2MagicTent== 0>>[[A big purple tent, adorned with gold, gets your attention. It looks like a mage's tent.|Chap2MagicTentSam][$chap2MagicTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> [[That's all for now. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105a]]

<<set $fairevents to $fairevents + 1>>"Well, what now?" Sam asks, glancing at you handing your gift over to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> for safekeeping. <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0>>[[You head towards the fortune teller's tent, marked with a bright blue eye.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam][$chap2FortuneTeller to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2ArcheryTent == 0>>[[An area sectioned off for an archery competition catches your eye.|Chap2ArcherySam][$chap2ArcheryTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2StrengthTest == 0>>[[You decide to try your hand at a strength test: the classic hammer and bell.|Chap2StrengthTestSam][$chap2StrengthTest to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2LightShow == 0>>[[That tent flashing with brilliant light you saw before seems interesting.|Chap2LightShowSam][$chap2LightShow to 1]]<<else>><</if>> [[That's all for now. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105a]]

"And I may yet scare you again before you leave this tent, little $child." The old lady cackles mischievously. "A good afternoon to the three of you. I am the seeing-witch Clori, of the Sky's Eye. Our troupe was graciously asked to perform at this festival, and so I expect you might run into several of my colleagues this day. Shall we do some readings?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just for these two, please." Aunt Sonia replies flippantly. "I've had my share of fortune, don't want to know any more." "No!" Sam gasps, distraught. "You've //gotta// do it with us, Miss Sonia!" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Please, Aunt Sonia?" You ask.<<else>>You shrug. It's up to her if she wants to do it.<</if>> She grunts. "Mm, fine. Three readings, then." The old woman smiles at her change in decision. "That'll be a half-eagle for all three of you."<<else>>"How much for three readings, good lady Clori?" The old woman snorts at him. "You're a flatterer, in your fancy little coat and with that lovely beard. A half-eagle each, for all three of you."<</if>> [[You actually don't want to have a reading, and you make it known.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5a]] [[You'd like to go before Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5b][$ftgofirst to "yes"]] [[You'd like to go after Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5c][$ftgofirst to "no"]]

"I'll not give out the secrets of my trade so readily, little one." The old lady cackles mischievously. "A good afternoon to the three of you. I am the seeing-witch Clori, of the Sky's Eye. Our troupe was graciously asked to perform at this festival, and so I expect you might run into several of my colleagues this day. Shall we do some readings?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just for these two, please." Aunt Sonia replies flippantly. "I've had my share of fortune, don't want to know any more." "No!" Sam gasps, distraught. "You've //gotta// do it with us, Miss Sonia!" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Please, Aunt Sonia?" You ask.<<else>>You shrug. It's up to her if she wants to do it.<</if>> She grunts. "Mm, fine. Three readings, then." The old woman smiles at her change in decision. "That'll be a half-eagle for all three of you."<<else>>"How much for three readings, good lady Clori?" The old woman snorts at him. "You're a flatterer, in your fancy little coat and with that lovely beard. A half-eagle each, for all three of you."<</if>> [[You actually don't want to have a reading, and you make it known.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5a]] [[You'd like to go before Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5b][$ftgofirst to "yes"]] [[You'd like to go after Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5c][$ftgofirst to "no"]]

"Was the voice you heard not mine? Does another sit, hidden under this very table?" The old lady cackles mischievously, gesturing to the aged wooden table she sits at. "A good afternoon to the three of you. I am the seeing-witch Clori, of the Sky's Eye. Our troupe was graciously asked to perform at this festival, and so I expect you might run into several of my colleagues this day. Shall we do some readings?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just for these two, please." Aunt Sonia replies flippantly. "I've had my share of fortune, don't want to know any more." "No!" Sam gasps, distraught. "You've //gotta// do it with us, Miss Sonia!" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Please, Aunt Sonia?" You ask.<<else>>You shrug. It's up to her if she wants to do it.<</if>> She grunts. "Mm, fine. Three readings, then." The old woman smiles at her change in decision. "That'll be a half-eagle for all three of you."<<else>>"How much for three readings, good lady Clori?" Uncle Callen smiles easily, giving a little bow with his arm folded over his broad chest. The old woman snorts at him. "You're a flatterer, in your fancy little coat and with that lovely beard. A half-eagle each, for all three of you."<</if>> [[You actually don't want to have a reading, and you make it known.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5a]] [[You'd like to go before Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5b][$ftgofirst to "yes"]] [[You'd like to go after Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5c][$ftgofirst to "no"]]

"Aww..." Sam moans, disappointed in your choice. "I wanted to see what yours was gonna be..." He huffs, but still goes happily beyond the dark curtains once <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> has handed payment over to the witch. "You two can wait in here, if you like. Gods know I'd do anything to get out of that sun!" Clori laughs as, with a wave of her hand, the curtains flicker shut and obscure her and Sam from view. Curiously, you hear absolutely nothing from within. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[You turn to Aunt Sonia and ask a question to pass the time. "Why can't we hear what they're saying anymore?"|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5aAsk2]]<<else>>[[You turn to Uncle Callen and ask a question to pass the time. "Why can't we hear what they're saying anymore?"|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5aAsk2]]<</if>> [[You wait in relative silence, looking around the oddly-decorated tent.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5aWait2]]

"Okay, you've gotte lemme know what it's like, though!" Sam pleads before you go in. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"I will." You promise, as you step beyond the boundaries of the dark curtains.<<else>>"Maybe." You smirk, as you step beyond the boundaries of the dark curtains.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Good luck, $callenChild, an' don't be gettin any dark prophecies read about yerself, eh?" Uncle Callen winks, and waggles his fingers like a ghost. What a silly old man.<<else>>"Best of luck, kid." Aunt Sonia nods at you. "Don't take whatever she says too seriously, remember."<</if>> A second later, the curtains fly shut with a wave of Clori's bedangled, wrinkly hand. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam6b]]

"Thanks, $firstname!" Sam grins, and goes happily beyond the dark curtains once <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> has handed payment over to the witch. "You two can wait in here, if you like. Gods know I'd do anything to get out of that sun!" Clori laughs as, with a wave of her hand, the curtains flicker shut and obscure her and Sam from view. Curiously, you hear absolutely nothing from within. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[You turn to Aunt Sonia and ask a question to pass the time. "Why can't we hear what they're saying anymore?"|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5aAsk]]<<else>>[[You turn to Uncle Callen and ask a question to pass the time. "Why can't we hear what they're saying anymore?"|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5aAsk]]<</if>> [[You wait in relative silence, looking around the oddly-decorated tent.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam5aWait]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Beats me, kid." She responds unhelpfully. Upon seeing that you're //not// satisfied with her non-answer, she screws her face up in thought. "I'd never be the most magically-knowledgeable person in the room, mind, but it could be something to do with the material itself, or a ward put around the edge of the room." She kneels, beckoning you to do the same. "Do you see any markings on the floor, around the curtain's perimeter?" You lean in close, ending up on your hands and knees because it's so dark. "I ... can't see anything?" You offer, looking up at her. "And so..." She trails off, letting you come to your own conclusion. <<if $cautious > 50>>"It's ... probably the curtain itself?" You finish uncertainly.<<else>>"It's probably the curtain!" You finish excitedly.<</if>> She pats your back, hoisting you up by your arm. "Exactly right. See how the thread glistens? Could be that it's been cured in something charged to carry the spell constantly, when the edges of the curtain touch." "What can do that?" You ask, confused. There's little information on keeping a spell going without any intonation or ritual--after it's been cast--in the paltry information found in the books you read. After all, you don't have the Risen power in your blood like some individuals such as Archer, who are blessed with the talent from their bloodline, so there's little need for you to learn about all that at present. There are occasions where the power can skip an individual or multiple in a row, however. Relatively mundane families have historically been catapulted into fame by the resurgance of the Risen power in their youngest child. It's possible you have the potential for it, but you won't know unless you have children of your own one day and, based on Aunt Sonia's recollections of your early years, that seems a daunting task just to find out if you might have magic. She looks away, grimacing. "Usually nothing pleasant, kid. Blood, and the like. Somehow, Risen magic just loves the stuff. There's this old saying in the Mage's guilds: 'There's power in blood.' Gives me the creeps, really." "Oh." You mutter, wishing you hadn't asked in the first place...<<else>>He hums in thought. "I'd reckon it's an enchantment, $callenChild. Unless those curtains there are made o' the thickest cloth in all o' Phanol, eh?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>You giggle, agreeing with him. "They should make armour out of that stuff instead of steel!" "Ha!" He laughs, still slightly red-faced from the raging sun outside, "I'll ask the armourers at the citadel." "It's definitely enchanted..." You mutter, leaning closer to look at the satiny black material, which twinkles almost imperceptibly in the dim light.<<else>>"It's definitely enchanted..." You mutter, leaning closer to look at the satiny black material, which twinkles almost imperceptibly in the dim light.<</if>> "Could be the threads of the material were coated in somethin' that carries the enchantment. That's one of the ways to keep a spell goin' without constant effort, like our warming stones need." You soak his lecture in, nodding. There's little information on keeping a spell going without any intonation or ritual--after it's been cast--in the paltry information found in the books you read. After all, you don't have the Risen power in your blood like some individuals such as Archer, who are blessed with the talent from their bloodline, so there's little need for you to learn about all that at present. There are occasions where the power can skip an individual or multiple in a row, however. Relatively mundane families have historically been catapulted into fame by the resurgance of the Risen power in their youngest child. It's possible you have the potential for it, but you won't know unless you have children of your own one day and, based on Aunt Sonia's recollections of your early years, that seems a daunting task just to find out if you might have magic. "What sort of thing can carry a spell without effort?" "Things that come from a livin' being, most of the time. Metals like copper an' gold are good at it too." He hesitates, eyeing you warily. "Plant sap, blood, things like that, $callenChild." "//Blood//?" You balk. "Aye," he smiles apologetically, "a common sayin' in mage circles is: 'There's power in blood.' Somehow, there's just nothin' better when you want to enchant." "Oh." You mutter, wishing you hadn't asked in the first place...<</if>> [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam6a]]

Time passes without incident. All you really hear are the odd sounds of the breeze from outside filtering in, and the busy commotion that comes with a packed festival environment. If nothing else, it is soothing, being disconnected from all of that. Alone in a cool tent with your guardian. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam6a]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"She is half-correct, little one. Take heed of what you hear, but let it not consume your every waking thought, hm? My readings are only possible futures--visions borne of choice and consequence, not divine fate." She cackles, clipped and loud, the noise absorbed by the inky curtains that surround the two of you. "If any of the Twelve were to speak to //me//, I'd surely be somewhere else today, hm?"<<else>>"My readings are not prophecy, nor are they set-in-stone, little one. They are only possible futures--visions borne of choice and consequence, not divine fate." She cackles, clipped and loud, the noise absorbed by the inky curtains that surround the two of you. "If any of the Twelve were to speak to //me//, I'd surely be somewhere else today, hm?"<</if>> You don't really know what to say in response to her tirade, and just nod numbly. "Bah," she waves at you dismissively with her jingling hand, "take a seat, little one. Before we begin, I'd like to inform you of what will happen." You squeeze yourself into a simple wooden seat, sat across from Clori at the other end of the rectangular table. A set of odd tools are spread out before her, and she brushes her hands across them with an air of reverent caution. She looks down at the tools, peeking through a veil of her whitened hair, and smiles. "Have you ever had a reading before?" <<if $cold > 50>>You shake your head. "Mm-mm." "A $child of few words, are you?"<<else>>"No, not ever!" "Excited, are we?"<</if>> The witch laughs, picking up a long, thin tube. It sparkles with an odd texture in the light, and looks as if it was made of very dark, shiny bronze. "This is my burner. It will take a part of you and condense your //empira//, the sum of your being, into something I can look at--if only for a brief moment." //Intelligence...// <<if $intelligence >= 2>>//Success.// She's talking about the age-old Spirit Theorem, of course: the idea that each person is comprised of two halves. Their mortal body contains their base instincts and thought, while their ethereal spirit is comprised of memory and identity, which is created and strengthened by lived experience. When one dies, it is said that burning their body releases their //empira// into the Veil, where it then passes into the Heavens beyond. You nod along, understanding everything, which she looks at you appraisingly for.<<else>>//Failure.// You haven't a clue what this peculiar old witch is talking about, so you just pretend to understand and nod slowly. It has //something// to do with your spirit and body being separate things when you die, but you aren't very interested in reading about what goes on ... then. She doesn't seem convinced, but continues nonetheless.<</if>> "I'll need but a small part of you, so be not concerned--a lock of hair will suffice." With that, she picks up a tiny set of tweezers, and inches her hands towards your head. [[You lean back quickly, glaring at her. "Won't it hurt?" (Cautious +)|Chap2FortuneTellerSam7a][$cautious to $cautious + 2]] [[You allow the touch. (Cautious -)|Chap2FortuneTellerSam7b][$cautious to $cautious - 2]]

<<set $chap2FTKnow to "yes">>Clori steadies her bejwelled hands on the table and breathes in, deep. The smoke visibly shifts towards her, entering her mouth and staying there. A few moments pass in utter silence, save for the dying crackle of the green flame beneath the burning tube. Then, the witch's hands tense, scraping the wooden surface of the table and shaking the implements slightly. She gasps as if struck and her bright eyes go unfocused. Clori's wrinkled hands go slack on the table. "Oh, you poor thing..." //What?// <<if $volatile > 50>>"Hey! What's up? What are you seeing, witch?" You panic a little, leaning closer.<<else>>"Are--are you okay? What do you see?" You panic a little, leaning closer.<</if>> Clori exhales a raspy breath, smiling calmly--too calmly. "I see a hound's snapping maw. I see a beast, loosely swaddled in human cloth. They're all bound hopelessly to you. Have you heard the scream that shattered the world's heart?" Her shrewd face almost sinks in on itself, crumpling like paper as her eyes roll back. Her mouth, contorted into a wretched sneer, continues to move. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam9]]

Clori pauses upon facing your guarded expression, and smirks at your question. "Had you not flinched like a kicked puppy, you would have found that, //no//, it would not have hurt. Watch," She moves towards you again and, with her clipped reassurance, you begrudgingly stay still. Just before the tweezers grab a lock of your hair, she presses a ringed finger to your scalp, muttering a soft incantation. "//Khuad alam...//" A chill spreads through where her finger touches, then an odd warmth. Before you know it, she pulls back, lock of your $haircolour hair in her possession--you didn't even feel it get plucked. You rub your head cautiously, wondering if she froze it or something equally as sinister. "What did you do?" "I applied a minor numbing spell. Would you rather I pull the hair without it?" She smirks playfully. <<if $cold > 50>>"Doesn't that tire you out?" You ask, more curious than concerned.<<else>>"That must be tiring to do all the time..." You muse.<</if>> She looks at you baldly and scoffs. "Hardly, I'm no lay-witch. Nor am I in this line of work to hurt children, mind you. A small exhaustion on my part is worth your lack of pain--and //my// lack of that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>very cross-looking woman outside coming after me.<<else>>very large man outside wanting a word with me.<</if>>" "If you say so." You shrug, letting her get on with her process. Clori gently guides the hair through a hole in one side of the tube, placing it on what looks like a miniature firepit. With a snap of her fingers, it ignites with a greenish flame and you quickly hear a rapid sizzling as the dark-bronze surface of the tube becomes lighter and more iridescent. Brilliant colours spark across its surface as it heats. A thick smoke begins to rise from the ends of the tube, turning the witch's eyes dark as it partially obscures them. "What I relay to you from my visions is for your ears only, my dear. I will have no memory of what I utter, nor may a repeat reading bear the same result. What I speak of may be simple words, places, names. You may see or hear these things one day in your life, though remember all of this is the realm of potentiality. Do you understand?" You nod, and she leans closer to the smoke. "I may be unresponsive for a time during the reading, little one. Rest assured I am in control of my faculties, and need no assistance. Too many fools have nearly knocked me out of my chair thinking I'd been having a fit--I am //not// that old!" She sighs, almost blowing some of the dark smoke at you in the process. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam8]]

Just before the tweezers grab a lock of your hair, she presses a ringed finger to your scalp, muttering a soft incantation. "//Khuad alam...//" A chill spreads through where her finger touches, then an odd warmth. Before you know it, she pulls back, lock of your $haircolour hair in her possession--you didn't even feel it get plucked. You rub your head cautiously, wondering if she froze it or something equally as sinister. "What did you do?" "I applied a minor numbing spell. Would you rather I pull the hair without it?" She smirks playfully. <<if $cold > 50>>"Doesn't that tire you out?" You ask, more curious than concerned.<<else>>"That must be tiring to do all the time..." You muse.<</if>> She looks at you baldly and scoffs. "Hardly, I'm no lay-witch! Nor am I in this line of work to hurt children, mind you. A small exhaustion on my part is worth your lack of pain--and //my// lack of that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>very cross-looking woman outside coming after me.<<else>>very large man outside wanting a word with me.<</if>>" "If you say so." You shrug, letting her get on with her process. Clori gently guides the hair through a hole in one side of the tube, placing it on what looks like a miniature firepit. With a snap of her fingers, it ignites with a greenish flame and you quickly hear a rapid sizzling as the dark-bronze surface of the tube becomes lighter and more iridescent. Brilliant colours spark across its surface as it heats. A thick smoke begins to rise from the ends of the tube, turning the witch's eyes dark as it partially obscures them. "What I relay to you from my visions is for your ears only, my dear. I will have no memory of what I utter, nor may a repeat reading bear the same result. What I speak of may be simple words, places, names. You may see or hear these things one day in your life, though remember all of this is the realm of potentiality. Do you understand?" You nod, and she leans closer to the smoke. "I may be unresponsive for a time during the reading, little one. Rest assured I am in control of my faculties, and need no assistance. Too many fools have nearly knocked me out of my chair thinking I'd been having a fit--I am //not// that old!" She sighs, almost blowing some of the dark smoke at you in the process. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam8]]

Your panic grows, an invisible grip seizing at your throat and chest. "I--I don't..." She continues without registering your response, babbling frantically. "Wings! O, I see the shadow of wings on desert sand, hear the creak of iron beneath the scarlet corona. //Be not afeared of the blood-slick petals.// In your name. In the name of--" All too soon, she's thrown out of her stupor, and her eyes lock back into place, immediately kind and worried. "//Oh my//--is everything alright, dear? Did I frighten you?" You shake your head hurriedly, clasping your hands together to stop their incessant shaking, too stunned to answer honestly. <<if $honesty > 50>>"No, I'm a-alright." The lie is evident to her, but she says nothing more.<<else>>"No, I'm alright." Your lie seems to go undetected, and she smiles sweetly.<</if>> "Good, then. I truly am sorry, my dear. Some are more receptive to the readings than others, so it can often end up as little more than nonsense. Run on now, and <<if $ftgofirst == "yes">>call your little friend in, will you?<<else>>call that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>lovely young lady in<<else>>handsome fellow in<</if>>, will you?<</if>>" [[Too shocked to hesitate, you scramble out of the chair.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam10a]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Beats me, kid." She responds unhelpfully. Upon seeing that you're //not// satisfied with her non-answer, she screws her face up in thought. "I'd never be the most magically-knowledgeable person in the room, mind, but it could be something to do with the material itself, or a ward put around the edge of the room." She kneels, beckoning you to do the same. "Do you see any markings on the floor, around the curtain's perimeter?" You lean in close, ending up on your hands and knees because it's so dark. "I ... can't see anything?" You offer, looking up at her. "And so..." She trails off, letting you come to your own conclusion. <<if $cautious > 50>>"It's ... probably the curtain itself?" You finish uncertainly.<<else>>"It's probably the curtain!" You finish excitedly.<</if>> She pats your back, hoisting you up by your arm. "Exactly right. See how the thread glistens? Could be that it's been cured in something charged to carry the spell constantly, when the edges of the curtain touch." "What can do that?" You ask, confused. There's little information on keeping a spell going without any intonation or ritual--after it's been cast--in the paltry information found in the books you read. After all, you don't have the Risen power in your blood like those individuals--such as Archer--who are blessed with the talent from their bloodline, so there's little need for you to learn about all that at present. There are occasions where the power can skip an individual or multiple in a row, however. Relatively mundane families have historically been catapulted into fame by the resurgance of the Risen power in their youngest child. It's possible you have the potential for it, but you won't know unless you have children of your own one day and, based on Aunt Sonia's recollections of your early years, that seems a daunting task just to find out if you might have magic. She looks away, grimacing. "Usually nothing pleasant, kid. Blood, and the like. Somehow, Risen magic just loves the stuff. There's this old saying in the Mage's guilds: 'There's power in blood.' Gives me the shivers, really." "Oh," you mutter, wishing you hadn't asked in the first place...<<else>>He hums in thought. "I'd reckon it's an enchantment, $callenChild. Unless those curtains there are made o' the thickest cloth in all o' Phanol, eh?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>You giggle, agreeing with him. "They should make armour out of this stuff instead of steel!" "Ha!" He laughs, still slightly red-faced from the raging sun outside, "I'll ask the armourers at the citadel." "It's definitely enchanted..." You mutter, leaning closer to look at the satiny black material, which twinkles almost imperceptibly in the dim light.<<else>>"It's definitely enchanted..." You mutter, leaning closer to look at the satiny black material, which twinkles almost imperceptibly in the dim light.<</if>> "Could be the threads of the material were coated in somethin' that carries the enchantment. That's one of the ways to keep a spell goin' without constant effort, like our warming stones need." You soak his lecture in, nodding. There's little information on keeping a spell going without any intonation or ritual--after it's been cast--in the paltry information found in the books you read. After all, you don't have the Risen power in your blood like some individuals such as Archer, who are blessed with the talent from their bloodline, so there's little need for you to learn about all that at present. There are occasions where the power can skip an individual or multiple in a row, however. Relatively mundane families have historically been catapulted into fame by the resurgance of the Risen power in their youngest child. It's possible you have the potential for it, but you won't know unless you have children of your own one day and, based on Aunt Sonia's recollections of your early years, that seems a daunting task just to find out if you might have magic. "What sort of thing can carry a spell without effort?" "Things that come from a livin' being, most of the time. Metals like copper an' gold are good at it too. Platinum's the best, but it's bleedin' rare." He hesitates, eyeing you warily. "Plant sap, blood, things like that, $callenChild." "//Blood?//" You balk. "Aye," he smiles apologetically, "a common sayin' in mage circles is: 'There's power in blood.' Somehow, there's just nothin' better when you want to enchant." "Oh." You mutter, wishing you hadn't asked in the first place...<</if>> [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam6a2]]

Time passes without incident. All you really hear are the odd sounds of the breeze from outside filtering in, and the busy commotion that comes with a packed festival environment. It's quite soothing, being disconnected from all of that. Alone in a cool tent with your guardian. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam6a2]]

Before you step in, you are halted. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Good luck, $callenChild, an' don't be gettin any dark prophecies read about yerself, eh?" Uncle Callen winks, and waggles his fingers like a ghost. What a silly old man.<<else>>"Best of luck, kid." Aunt Sonia nods at you. "Don't take whatever she says too seriously, remember."<</if>> A second later, the curtains fly shut with a wave of Clori's bedangled, wrinkly hand. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam6b]]

You stumble through the curtains, which are even heavier than they look, and emerge to Sam and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's<<else>>Uncle Callen's<</if>> bemused expressions. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"All good, $firstname?" Aunt Sonia looks you over as you approach her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."<<else>>"Y'look worried, $callenChild. Everythin' okay?" Uncle Callen frowns as you approach him.<</if>> For a moment you think that you'll be able to explain, in full, just what the witch said to you in her dazed stupor. It comes to be a fantastical notion, as you're only able to offer a fleeting summary. "Scary--she said lots of scary things." Endlessly frustrated with your own resistant mind, you <<if $volatile >= 50>>stomp the ground impotently<<else>>clench your fists, managing to contain your anger for the time being.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He crouches, clutching your arm gently. "Whatever she said ain't the least bit set in stone, $callenChild. Remember these things're more performance than prediction.<<else>>She sighs, gently brushing a finger through your mussed hair. "Don't put any stock in the sayings of fortune tellers, kid. Listening to prophecy has never done anyone a lick of good in the end, alright?"<</if>> You nod quickly, almost too eager to accept the idea that none of what you heard was meaningful. How could it have been, when it was absolute gibberish to your ears? [[It must have just been a bad reading. They can happen, right?|Chap2FortuneTellerSam11]] [[The notion that your fortune is to be the jumbled frenzy the witch described lingers in the back of your mind, dark and writhing.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam11]]

The curtains shift open to reveal Clori, sat exactly where she was before. "I'll have you now, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>green-eyes." She points at Aunt Sonia with her jingling left hand. "Come in, if you would be so kind. A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Aunt Sonia stiffens as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." She huffs and rolls her shoulders before stepping in. "Wish me luck, $firstname."<<else>>grey-eyes." She points at Uncle Callen with her jingling left hand. "Come in, if you would be so kind. A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Uncle Callen's smile quirks into a knowing frown as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." He chuckles so quietly that you only barely manage to hear. Clori certainly can't. "Here goes nothin', $callenChild."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[She steps past the curtains, and then she is gone.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam8b]]<<else>>[[He steps past the curtains, and then he is gone.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam8b]]<</if>>

Sam is decidedly less patient than <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> had been<<if $patient < 50>>, or even you for that matter.<<else>>.<</if>> With his back-and-forth pacing, and the odd <<if $samRelationship > 50 and $samRomance < 2>>bright smile sent your way when he remembers you're in the tent with him<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRomance < 2>>wary look sent your way when he remembers you're in the tent with him<<elseif $samRomance > 2>>odd, almost confused look sent your way when he remembers you're in the tent with him<</if>>, one would think the boy had been waiting for hours, though in reality only a few minutes pass before <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> passes through those dark curtains again. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam9a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam9a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [["What did she say?" Sam asks. You're not particularly interested.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam9b]]

"Oh," you start, suddenly remembering what Clori asked before sending you on your way, "<<if $ftgofirst == "yes">>she wants you now, Sam."<<else>>she wants you now, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia.<<else>>Uncle Callen.<</if>>"<</if>> <<if $ftgofirst == "yes">>"Ooh, my turn!" The boy grins excitedly, but eyes you warily after looking at how perturbed you seem from your own reading. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope his experience goes better than your own.<<else>>You wonder how his reading will go. Surely not as terribly as your own?<</if>> The curtains fly open, and Clori beckons the boy in. "In you come, gilt-hair," she teases with a wry smile. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTellerSam12a]]<<else>>The curtains shift open to reveal Clori, sat exactly where she was before. "I'll have you now, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>green-eyes." She points at Aunt Sonia with her jingling left hand. "Come in, if you would be so kind. A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Aunt Sonia stiffens as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." She huffs and rolls her shoulders before stepping in. "Wish me luck, $firstname."<<else>>grey-eyes." She points at Uncle Callen with her jingling left hand. "Come in, if you would be so kind. A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Uncle Callen's smile quirks into a knowing frown as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." He chuckles so quietly that you only barely manage to hear. Clori certainly can't. "Here goes nothin', $callenChild."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[She steps past the curtains, and then she is gone.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam12b]]<<else>>[[He steps past the curtains, and then he is gone.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam12b]]<</if>><</if>>

Sam bounds past the curtains, which flutter shut with a heavy ''whoosh''. Alone with <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>, you... <<if $intelligence >= 2>>[[(INTELLIGENCE) Decide to ask a riddle.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam13c][$chap2askriddle to "yes"]]<<else>>//You are not intelligent enough to choose this option.//<</if>> [[Try to ask more about went on behind the curtains.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam13d]]

It had been evident beforehand, but Sam will certainly never be the most patient person in the room<<if $patient < 50>>. He even has you beat, somehow.<<else>>.<</if>> With his back-and-forth pacing, and the odd <<if $samRelationship > 50 and $samRomance < 2>>bright smile sent your way when he remembers you're in the tent with him<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRomance < 2>>wary look sent your way when he remembers you're in the tent with him<<elseif $samRomance > 2>>odd, almost confused look sent your way when he remembers you're in the tent with him<</if>>, one would think the boy had been waiting for hours, though in reality only a few minutes pass before <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> passes through those dark curtains again. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam13a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam13a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [["What did she say?" Sam asks. You're not particularly interested.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam13b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, the loss of a bit of my hair was //sorely// felt." She mutters sourly, brushing the short, still-growing remnants of her ordeal on the surface. "But, uh, I'll tell you once you're older, kid. We got a deal?" She looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, did she...? "Can we go somewhere else?" Sam pipes up, smiling sheepishly when Aunt Sonia whips her head to the right to look at him, having forgotten he was even there. "Oh--right, yes, we can." She quickly turns around to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>"Tell ya once ye're grown up, $callenChild. Promise." He winks. Despite that, he looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, did he...? "Can we go somewhere else?" Sam pipes up, smiling sheepishly. "O' course, lad!" Uncle Callen smiles at the boy, his voice betraying none of the surprise in his eyes. He must have forgotten about Sam, somehow. He turns to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, all three of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEndSam]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia casts a look at you for a moment, something undecipherable in her eyes. "Nothing interesting, Sam. Honest." She looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, did she...? "Can we go somewhere else now?" Sam asks again, in rapid succession. Her non-answer hasn't halted his questions even a little. "Oh--right, yes, we can." She quickly turns around to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>Uncle Callen casts an odd look at you, an unknowable expression etched on his face. Something ... forlorn. "Just ramblings, I reckon. Nothin' to really fuss over, lad." Despite his assurance, he looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, did he...? "Can we go somewhere else now?" Sam asks again, in rapid succession. Uncle Callen's avoidant answer hasn't halted his questions even a little. "O' course, lad!" Uncle Callen smiles at the boy, his voice instantly more chipper than it had been. He turns to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, all three of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEndSam]]

You mutter a string of quiet swears in Common, Old Telfrini, and even the meagre Liskiy you learned in your youth. "Motherfucker, //bâtarra//, //fia srada//..." ...You feel slightly better. Only slightly. No matter. You'll have to try and get some rest on the road. You close the shutters with a metallic click that reverberates around your sparsely-furnished room. Well, it's hardly //your// room, you've just been staying in it for the past few nights. You haven't had a bedroom to call your own for a long, long time. Come to think of it, the last time you stayed in any room for longer than a fortnight was before the war. [[Before...|NewPrologueScene1]]

//Have to try and get some rest on the road//, you surmise as you suck in a slow breath. You close the shutters with a metallic click that reverberates around your sparsely-furnished room. Well, it's hardly //your// room, you've just been staying in it for the past few nights. You haven't had a bedroom to call your own for a long, long time. Come to think of it, the last time you stayed in any room for longer than a fortnight was before the war. [[Before...|NewPrologueScene1]]

A couple of deep, steadying breaths has you settled, if only slightly. Every good thing that's come your way has come in slight amounts, as of late. No matter. You'll have to try and get some rest on the road. You close the shutters with a metallic click that reverberates around your sparsely-furnished room. Well, it's hardly //your// room, you've just been staying in it for the past few nights. You haven't had a bedroom to call your own for a long, long time. Come to think of it, the last time you stayed in any room for longer than a fortnight was before the war. [[Before...|NewPrologueScene1]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia casts a look at you for a moment, something undecipherable in her eyes. "Nothing interesting, Sam. Honest." She looks strangely disturbed. What did she hear? "Can we go somewhere else now?" Sam asks again, in rapid succession. Her non-answer hasn't halted his questions even a little. "Oh--right, yes, we can." She quickly turns around to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>Uncle Callen casts an odd look at you, an unknowable expression etched on his face. Something ... forlorn. "Just ramblings, I reckon. Nothin' to really fuss over, lad." Despite his assurance, he looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, what did he hear? "Can we go somewhere else now?" Sam asks again, in rapid succession. Uncle Callen's avoidant answer hasn't halted his questions even a little. "O' course, lad!" Uncle Callen smiles at the boy, his voice instantly more chipper than it had been. He turns to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, all three of you--including the one that denied a reading, for this is as good a time to learn this as any. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEndSam]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, the loss of a bit of my hair was //sorely// felt." She mutters sourly, brushing the short, still-growing remnants of her ordeal on the surface. "But, uh, I'll tell you once you're older, kid. Deal?" You shrug, noting mentally that she looks strangely disturbed. What did she hear in there? "Can we go somewhere else?" Sam pipes up, smiling sheepishly when Aunt Sonia whips her head to the right to look at him, having forgotten he was even there. "Oh--right, yes, we can." She quickly turns around to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>"Tell ya once ye're grown up, $callenChild. Promise." He winks. Despite that, he looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, what did he hear? "Can we go somewhere else?" Sam pipes up. "O' course, lad!" Uncle Callen smiles at the boy, his voice betraying none of the surprise in his eyes. He must have forgotten about Sam, somehow. He turns to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, all three of you--including the one that denied a reading, for this is as good a time to learn this as any. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEndSam]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">><<if $cold < 50>>"Uncle Callen, Uncle Callen!" Your tugging on his sleeve combined with your earnest request for attention is more than successful, and he quirks an eyebrow at you in mock-silliness.<<else>>You tug on Uncle Callen's sleeve without making a sound, trying to get his attention as silently as possible. As if playing into some sort of joke you're //definitely// not a part of, he pointedly looks up and away from you, whistling a jaunty, stilted tune. You tug harder, to the point his arm jerks away from his body, and he finally relents, knocking lightly you with his hand and chuckling at your sour reaction.<</if>> He asks, "What's the matter, $callenChild?" "Do you wanna hear a riddle?" He smiles dubiously. "A riddle, eh? Don't be tellin' me Archie's been buyin' ya riddle books on the sly." <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"...I can't tell you." Is all you say in response, before asking your riddle.<<else>>"What?! No." You say firmly in response, before asking your riddle. "This one's //all// me."<</if>><<else>>The need to get Aunt Sonia's attention does not arise, for she's already keeping a careful watch on you, staring with unblinking eyes. "Something the matter, $firstname?" "Do you wanna hear a riddle?" "No." Her stony expression does not move. <<if $volatile >= 50>>Yours, however, does. "Why not?!" You gape, incensed at her blunt refusal.<<else>>"Wh--" You sputter at her blunt refusal. She's tough and matter-of-fact, yes, but rarely this much with you.<</if>> She rolls her eyes, amused, and drops her crossed arms. "Just joking, $firstname. Let's hear your best, then." Oh. You ought to have seen this coming. Aunt Sonia might be blunt and unforthcoming, but she's also got a devilishly sarcastic side--one she puts to great practice against Archer and Uncle Callen's own formidable wits. "Well, I--er..." She actually smiles now, at your floundering. "Keep going, kid. Don't let me trip you up." You take a steadying breath and //quite resolutely// ask what was intended to just be a funny riddle.<</if>> [["What can you break without ever having touched it?" You ask.|Chap2Riddle1]] [["The more I have of it, the less I can see. What is it?" You ask.|Chap2Riddle2]] [["You can't see me, but I'm everywhere. I can be caught but not held, and I have no voice yet can be heard anywhere. What am I?" You ask.|Chap2Riddle3]] [[You snicker before asking this one. "When set loose, I fly away. I'm never so cursed as when I'm astray. What am I?"|Chap2Riddle4]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, she sat me down, was rude, and she took some of my hair--which I //very much// objected to--" <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>"Not that, silly!" You giggle, <<else>>"That's not what I meant..." You sigh, <</if>>"Why can't you say anything about the fortune she gave?" She clicks her tongue in thought. "You'll just have to trust me when I say it's only worth hearing later on. I'll give you a hint, though: it does mention you." She says, with a wink.<<else>>He smiles sympathetically. "It's a complicated thing, $callenChild, and not somethin' I'd like to get into while we're out havin' some fun." When he looks upon your disappointed face at his stonewalling, he sighs and relents, if only a little. "Is it any help if I say ye're part of it?" Your face must have contorted quite severely, because he then laughs. "I'll take that as a yes, $callenChild?"<</if>> [[Before you can say anything further, There's a shuffling of the silencing curtains.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam14a]]

A distant tolling of bells and a blaring announcement that comes from everywhere and nowhere grabs your collective attention. "''The Exhibition of Sun's Strength will shortly commence. All who wish to attend, and bear witness to performances from these most skilled practitioners, please make way to the Helaic Colosseum.''" Sam scratches his cheek. "What's that mean?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"S'just a fancy name for the biggest arena, is all." Uncle Callen lifts an arm and points to a large mass of darkish stone on the near horizon. "That's where we're headed, <<if $agab == "male">>lads<<else>>you two<</if>>."<<else>>"That," Aunt Sonia points to a large mass of darkish stone on the near horizon, "is the Helaic Colosseum. That's our next stop, kids."<</if>> <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0 and $chap2ArcheryTent == 0 and $chap2StrengthTest == 0 and $chap2LightShow == 0 and $chap2FoodTent == 0 and $chap2MagicTent == 0>>The boy grumbles about not having actually done anything, but it's so quiet that only you hear.<<else>>"Alright." He shrugs, spinning around to take in the sights of the fair once more before he can no longer.<</if>> Making your way to the colosseum is relatively easy, made even more so by the guardsmen posted through the streets that usher the crowds along. The gold-tinged feathers that jut from their helms gleam in the sunlight, and you can spy the odd drop of sweat dripping from under their visors, which only cover their eyes to reveal an impassive glower. They must not be happy to work in this heat. The massive, millenia-old building looms over you as you approach, sending a curious chill down your neck. You shuffle into one of several dozen queues that span the perimeter of the arena and likely beyond. This particular line leads to an entrance adorned with a sign decorated with the word ''Premier''. All you can do to shield yourself from the unrepentant sun is to cover your eyes with your hands and sigh uncomfortably. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen notices this, and squeezes your shoulder soothingly. "We'll be in a shaded area, $callenChild. I reckon they'll have somethin' to drink for us //esteemed guests//, too." Well, that's //some// consolation.<<else>>Aunt Sonia notices this, and shuffles to stand in the way of the sun so you stop having to shield yourself. "Don't you tell anyone about this. If people find out I've well and truly gone soft, I'll lose all my standing." She winks at Sam, who turns an imaginary key in his mouth and throws it in the air.<</if>> When you reach the front of the queue, a pair of guards step forward with an official-looking man, dressed simply save for a gem-accented sun icon, blazing across the front of his tunic. "Premier attendance of the exhibitionary displays runs the cost of sixteen eagles each." He pauses, looking at you and Sam. "Half that, for the children, of course." He adds with a practised smile. [["Do you even know who this is?!" You blurt out, shocked that he wouldn't recognise your mentor. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene106a][$volatile to $volatile + 1]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Look nervously up at Aunt Sonia. You're certain she didn't bring that much money. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene106b][$volatile to $volatile - 2]]<<else>>[[Look nervously up at Uncle Callen. You're certain he didn't bring that much money. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene106b][$volatile to $volatile - 2]]<</if>> [[Hold your tongue. There's probably a solution here that doesn't involve pushing this snooty-looking man out of the way and sprinting into the arena. Probably. (Patient +)|Chap2Scene106c][$patient to $patient + 1]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen purses his lips in thought. "I'm not so good with riddles, $callenChild. Any chance at a hint?" You hum in thought. "Cross your heart and hope to..." His grey eyes light up. "Would it be a promise, $callenChild?" <<if $callenClose >= 50>>"You got it!" You smile triumphantly at him.<<else>>"You got it..." You mutter, a little defeated. You'd hoped to keep him guessing for longer.<</if>> "Good one, $callenChild, I'll admit." Uncle Callen chuckles softly, patting your shoulder. "Now, I reckon Sam'll be finishin' up soon. Let's be presentable for the witch--if I'm bein' honest, she gives me t'shivers..."<<else>>You've barely finished your riddle when she blurts out her answer. "You're silence." She says, with an utterly confident smile, amplified by a smug curl to her lips. "Nope, do you need a h--" "Darkness!" She blurts out, interrupting you again. "Bloody ambiguous riddles..." //How// did she get that so quickly?! "Have you been reading my books?" <<if $volatile > 50>>You ask, with a note of indignance to your voice. She keeps you away from her things, why should she be taking yours?!<<else>>You ask, genuinely curious. Could she have a riddle book of her own, stashed away for this most fateful of days? Is she secretly some sort of riddling genius, and //that// is her true passion in life?<</if>> "Nothing like that, kid." She assures you, shaking her head. "I'm just good with them, is all. I've a squadmate who's asking them all the time, and if I can't tear their head off then I can at least beat them at their own game." She realises after her explanation how ... mundane that is. "You can forget I said that, though." "...So you learned lots of riddles, just to annoy someone who was annoying you?" She shrugs. "Half of what I do is to annoy someone more than they annoy me, kid. It's one of the great joys of existence. Let's wait for Sam to come out, now. Shouldn't be long." Well, that's that. [[Wait for Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam14a]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen purses his lips in thought. "I'm not so good with riddles, $callenChild. Any chance at a hint?" You smirk. "Close your eyes." He does so, and when he opens them again they're alight with his recognition of the answer. "Would it be darkness, $callenChild?" <<if $callenClose >= 50>>"You got it!" You smile triumphantly at him.<<else>>"You got it..." You mutter, a little defeated. You'd hoped to keep him guessing for longer.<</if>> "Good one, $callenChild, I'll admit." Uncle Callen chuckles softly, patting your shoulder. "Now, I reckon Sam'll be finishin' up soon. Let's be presentable for the witch--if I'm bein' honest, she gives me t'shivers..."<<else>>You've barely finished your riddle when she blurts out her answer. "You're darkness" She says, with an utterly confident smile, amplified by a smug curl to her lips. //How// did she get that so quickly?! "Have you been reading my books?" <<if $volatile > 50>>You ask, with a note of indignance to your voice. She keeps you away from her things, why should she be taking yours?!<<else>>You ask, genuinely curious. Could she have a riddle book of her own, stashed away for this most fateful of days? Is she secretly some sort of riddling genius, and //that// is her true passion in life?<</if>> "Nothing like that, kid." She assures you, shaking her head. "I'm just good with them, is all. I've a squadmate who's asking them all the time, and if I can't tear their head off then I can at least beat them at their own game." She realises after her explanation how ... mundane that is. "You can forget I said that, though." "...So you learned lots of riddles to annoy someone who was annoying you?" She shrugs. "Half of what I do is to annoy someone more than they annoy me, kid. It's one of the great joys of existence. Let's wait for Sam to come out, now. Shouldn't be long." Well, that's that. [[Wait for Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam14a]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen purses his lips in thought. "I'm not so good with riddles, $callenChild. Any chance at a hint?" You hum in thought. "Uh ... you don't like it? It makes you cold!" His grey eyes light up. "Would it be the wind, $callenChild?" <<if $callenClose >= 50>>"You got it!" You smile triumphantly at him.<<else>>"You got it..." You mutter, a little defeated. You'd hoped to keep him guessing for longer.<</if>> "Good one, $callenChild, I'll admit." Uncle Callen chuckles softly, patting your shoulder. "Now, I reckon Sam'll be finishin' up soon. Let's be presentable for the witch--if I'm bein' honest, she gives me t'shivers..."<<else>>You've barely finished your riddle when she blurts out her answer. "You're the wind." She says, with an utterly confident smile, amplified by a smug curl to her lips. //How// did she get that so quickly?! "Have you been reading my books?" <<if $volatile > 50>>You ask, with a note of indignance to your voice. She keeps you away from her things, why should she be taking yours?!<<else>>You ask, genuinely curious. Could she have a riddle book of her own, stashed away for this most fateful of days? Is she secretly some sort of riddling genius, and //that// is her true passion in life?<</if>> "Nothing like that, kid." She assures you, shaking her head. "I'm just good with them, is all. I've a squadmate who's asking them all the time, and if I can't tear their head off then I can at least beat them at their own game." She realises after her explanation how ... mundane that is. "You can forget I said that, though." "...So you learned lots of riddles to annoy someone who was annoying you?" She shrugs. "Half of what I do is to annoy someone more than they annoy me, kid. It's one of the great joys of existence. Let's wait for Sam to come out, now. Shouldn't be long." Well, that's that.<</if>> [[Wait for Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam14a]]

What point remains? Your hopes of getting past unnoticed are very quickly dashed. "Leavin' so soon, //Weaver//?" She practically squawks, voice carrying surprisingly well over the loudest of the late-night gathering's rowdy din. Her tone belies amusement and intrigue all at once, and her ruddy face splits with a knowing grin. Your stomach drops, and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck bristle. She must have seen the badge in your pack. Was she snooping in your room when you were out? The last words come unbidden, as if their speaker were still whispering in your ear, scratchy and weak. //You are the best of us.// You notice a patron--an older man with a dusting of ruddy scales on his cheeks and jaw--shift uncomfortably at her words, shrinking into himself and inching a similarly-scaled hand closer to his belt. Fallen. No wonder he seized up like a corpse when she said //that//. You glance at the trembling figure and shake your head. You're no threat, not to him. Not now. You turn back to the woman... <<link `"<q>Do //not// call me that.</q> You growl."`>> <<goto PrologueScene3a>> <</link>> [["Fuck off." You grunt, looking pointedly away from her.|PrologueScene3b]] [[You smirk. "Such sweet sorrow, and all that."|PrologueScene3c]] [[You blink and keep on walking. "I've no idea what you speak of, miss."|PrologueScene3d]] [[No need to cause a scene. "Unfortunately so. I wish I could stay longer, really."|PrologueScene3e]] [[You speed up, ignoring her completely.|PrologueScene3f]]

Perhaps one day. Your hopes of getting past unnoticed are very quickly dashed. "Leavin' so soon, //Weaver//?" She practically squawks, voice carrying surprisingly well over the loudest of the late-night gathering's rowdy din. Her tone belies amusement and intrigue all at once, and her ruddy face splits with a knowing grin. Your stomach drops, and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck bristle. She must have seen the badge in your pack. Was she snooping in your room when you were out? The last words come unbidden, as if their speaker were still whispering in your ear, scratchy and weak. //You are the best of us.// You notice a patron--an older man with a dusting of ruddy scales on his cheeks and jaw--shift uncomfortably at her words, shrinking into himself and inching a similarly-scaled hand closer to his belt. Fallen. No wonder he seized up like a corpse when she said //that//. You glance at the trembling figure and shake your head. You're no threat, not to him. Not now. You turn back to the woman... <<link `"<q>Do //not// call me that.</q> You growl."`>> <<goto PrologueScene3a>> <</link>> [["Fuck off." You grunt, looking pointedly away from her.|PrologueScene3b]] [[You smirk. "Such sweet sorrow, and all that."|PrologueScene3c]] [[You blink and keep on walking. "I've no idea what you speak of, miss."|PrologueScene3d]] [[No need to cause a scene. "Unfortunately so. I wish I could stay longer, really."|PrologueScene3e]] [[You speed up, ignoring her completely.|PrologueScene3f]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen purses his lips in thought. "I'm not so good with riddles, $callenChild. Any chance at a hint?" You can barely contain yourself as you think of a suitable hint for this one. "...It smells?" Is all you can come up with. His grey eyes narrow, and then he rolls them, muttering under his breath, "//Rotten little bugger//..." You wait with bated breath, to see if he understood. He sighs, rubbing his eyes with one gloved hand. "You're a fart." He mutters weakly, defeated. <<if $cold < 50>>You explode with giggles, "No, //you're// a fart!" Uncle Callen tuts. "You asked the riddle, $callenChild! I don't make the rules. I'll be callin' ya Farty $lastname until ye're old enough to change it yerself. An' it's a cryin' shame, I quite liked the one you had before."<<else>>You grin slyly, but correct him quite firmly. "No, //you're// a fart." Uncle Callen tuts. "You asked the riddle, $callenChild! I don't make the rules. I'll be callin' ya Farty $lastname until ye're old enough to change it yerself. An' it's a cryin' shame, I quite liked the one you had before."<</if>> Oh! You hadn't considered that. "Uh--well, I didn't mean it, then." He snorts. "Let's wait for the boy now, $callenChild. Lest ye end up riddlin' me into an early grave."<<else>>She grunts in frustration after a moment. "I'll let you think." You say smugly. "Oh!" She exclaims, suddenly quite excited. "You," she answers with even great smugness than your own, "are a swear." It's a good try, but now you get to increase the level of smugness in this little dark tent to nearly //lethal// levels. "Nope!" She gapes, her scarred mouth hanging open. "What the bloody hell is the answer, then?!" <<if $cold < 50>>You explode with giggles, "A fart!"<<else>>You grin slyly. "A fart."<</if>> If she rolls her eyes any more than she is right now, you fear they'd fall out of her skull. "Absolutely absurd. Well done, kid. I'm normally quite good at riddles. One of my squadmates asks enough of them to make me want to tear my hair out--which shouldn't be an issue now, eh?" She grumbles. "Let's wait for Sam to finish up, now. Shouldn't take much longer, and I don't know if I could bear another of your riddles."<</if>> [[Wait for Sam.|Chap2FortuneTellerSam14a]]

When Sam emerges, it's with little fanfare, as he sort of falls forwards through the heavy curtain, batting it away with his entire arm. "All done!" He beams once recovered, glancing between you and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>. <<if $patient > 50>>He relays what went on behind the curtain, unprompted.<<else>>"So?" You speak up, wanting to know what happened, "What did she say?" He squints at you, giggling. "I'm hardly out the curtain, $samNick!" Despite his chiding, he does as you ask and gets right to it.<</if>> "It was so strange, you know! She took my hair and put it in this, this //thing//, right? And then she set it on fire and it went all ''fwoosh''," at this, the boy helpfully makes a gesture with his hands that you assume to be an explosion, "and all this smoke came out. She breathed it in and went all quiet, then she said some weird stuff!" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Such as?" Aunt Sonia quirks an eyebrow.<<else>>"Care t'elaborate, lad?" Uncle Callen encourages him.<</if>> "Well, first she said 'jungle', then 'father', then she said something long. I think it was 'all is beyond in--iniquity'? Which was a bit spooky. Maybe I'll explore the jungle with pa one day? I bet there's loads of stuff in Mestiria that ain't been found yet!" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I take it ya enjoyed it, then?" Uncle Callen smiles at him.<<else>>"So what's your review of the fortune teller, kid?" Aunt Sonia asks, half-seriously.<</if>> Sam shrugs. "It was okay. Can we go somewhere else now?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"O' course, lad!" Uncle Callen turns to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<<else>>"Oh--right, yes, we can." She quickly turns around to face Clori, who seems to have stood up for the first time since you entered the tent, coming just beyond the edge of the boundary created by the inner curtains. "Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, all three of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEndSam]]

The attendant looks affronted at your outburst, and sends a quizzical look to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia.<<else>>Uncle Callen.<</if>> He shouldn't be looking at <<if $mentor == "Callen">>her<<else>>him<</if>>, he should be looking at //you//! "Hey, I'm tal--" You're halted by <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's clumsy hand that's suddenly found itself clamped over your mouth. "Sorry," she smiles shakily after you pry her grip from around your jaw and glare at her, affronted, "$they's inherited my ... //vigour//. We're with one of the performers, Callen Edros of the Bladeweavers. If that's no good, then this should let us in for free." She flicks her Empyrean Master's badge, blinking from the slight pain as her finger strikes the impossibly hard steel.<<else>>a firm nudge from Uncle Callen. When you look up at him in indignation, he shakes his head. "Settle, $callenChild." He mutters to you, then turns back to the attendant. "We've a spot in the performers' quarters. We're with Sonia Wierszy of the Bladeweavers' Order. Ah, I'm also of the Bladeweavers' Order, if ye couldn't tell." He chuckles self-consciously, tugging on his Master's badge, a speck of silver-green against the vast white field of his Summery half-sleeved tunic, with a gloved hand.<</if>> The attendant's eyes widen just a smidgen, though he otherwise masks his surprise very well. "I had not noticed. Apologies, Master Bladeweaver <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy.<<else>>Edros.<</if>> Please make your way inside, a Bladeweaver liaison waits for you within." You shoot the attendant one more scowl as you pass, but leave the matter there. He'd best not incur your wrath again. [[Next|Chap2Scene107a]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>She blinks slowly, even as a trickle of sweat rolls past her eyebrow. "I'm with one of the performers today. Callen Edros? He's fighting ... someone, they never tell you ahead of time these days." She shrugs, getting impatient. "Either way, I'm a Weaver myself. Has to count for something, yeah?" She flicks her Empyrean Master's badge, blinking from the slight pain as her finger strikes the impossibly hard steel.<<else>>He smiles patiently and leans down a little. "Either of you two got enough?" He mutters behind his hand, grinning. "No?" Sam balks. "That's almost as much as pa makes in a day!" Uncle Callen winks at him. "No worries, lad." He stands tall again, addressing the attendant, "We're with one of the performers today, Sonia Wierszy of the Bladeweavers' Order. Ah, I'm also of the Bladeweavers' Order, if ye couldn't tell." He chuckles self-consciously, tugging on his Master's badge, a speck of silver-green against the vast white field of his Summery half-sleeved tunic, with a gloved hand.<</if>> The attendant's eyes widen just a smidgen, though he otherwise masks his surprise very well. "I had not noticed. Apologies, Master Bladeweaver <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy.<<else>>Edros.<</if>> Please make your way inside, a Bladeweaver liaison waits for you within." You release a breath you'd been holding ever since you reached the front of the queue. Thank the Gods that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> wore the Master's badge today. [[Next|Chap2Scene107a]]

You give the attendant a half-smile, which seems to calm Sam at your side. He still twists the hems of his shirt around in his fingers, but that seems to be more a consequence of there being sleeves to play with, rather than any true nervousness on the boy's part. You catch his eye, and <<if $samRelationship > 50 and $samRomance == 0>>smile at him, which he promptly returns, albeit muted.<<elseif $samRelationship > 50 and $samRomance == 1>>smile at him, which he promptly returns, albeit muted. It makes your chest feel full, and your head light.<<elseif $samRelationship > 50 and $samRomance == 2>>smile at him, which he promptly returns. You hold one another's gazes for a moment, before promptly looking away at the same time.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRomance > 0>>he almost immediately looks away, though even that small look manages to make you feel queasy.<<else>>he almost immediately looks away.<</if>> Meanwhile, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia blinks slowly, even as a trickle of sweat rolls past her eyebrow. "I'm with one of the performers today. Callen Edros? He's fighting ... someone, they never tell you ahead of time these days." She shrugs, getting impatient. "Either way, I'm a Weaver myself. Has to count for something, yeah?" She flicks her Empyrean Master's badge, blinking from the slight pain as her finger strikes the impossibly hard steel.<<else>>Uncle Callen smiles patiently and leans down a little. "Either of you two got enough?" He mutters behind his hand, grinning. "No?" Sam balks. "That's almost as much as pa makes in a day!" Uncle Callen winks at him. "No worries, lad." He stands tall again, addressing the attendant, "We're with one of the performers today, Sonia Wierszy of the Bladeweavers' Order. Ah, I'm also of the Bladeweavers' Order, if ye couldn't tell." He chuckles self-consciously, tugging on his Master's badge, a speck of silver-green against the vast white field of his Summery half-sleeved tunic, with a gloved hand.<</if>> The attendant's eyes widen just a smidgen, though he otherwise masks his surprise very well. "I had not noticed. Apologies, Master Bladeweaver <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy.<<else>>Edros.<</if>> Please make your way inside, a Bladeweaver liaison waits for you within." Well, that all turned out quite well in the end. Perhaps those books you<<if $intelligence > 1>> read about patience being a virtue have something to them...<<else>>'re forced to read about patience being a virtue have something to them...<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene107a]]

The inside of the colosseum's echoey halls are noticeably cooler than outside, which comes as a welcome relief. Sam pulls on the collar of his shirt in an attempt to get some cool air circulating around him, and blinks happily. "The sun's nice an' all, but it's good to cool off afterwards." He grins, walking slightly ahead of you and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen.<</if>> The boy turns around for a moment so he's walking backwards, just like in the forest a few weeks ago. Seems it's a habit of his. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Watch yourself, Sam." Aunt Sonia mutters, glancing warily behind him. "You don't want to bump into any of the 'esteemed guests' here. They'd have you whipped raw for mussing their pretty hair or trodding on their finery."<<else>>"Careful, lad." Uncle Callen stops him with one hand, turning him around. "It's gonna be gettin' crowded in here, so let's walk like people for now, eh?"<</if>> Sam nods quickly, looking around. "Okay!" The expansive halls are made of the same dark stone as the outside, decorated with motifs of the sun, symbol of Sola. A few other symbols appear, ones you recognise as belonging to the other Gods in the Pantheon of Light. Various flags and house banners are draped from the walls, too, as are tapestries of long-passed heroes and great victories in battle. At the top of a wide staircase ahead of you stands a small group, sleek and serious in their presentation, clad in dyed-red vestments and polished silver armour. At their head is a severe-looking woman--with two Empyrean sickles at her hip. This must be the Grandmaster Enota whom Mayor Faibal introduced to the crowds earlier in the day! "Master <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy,<<else>>Edros,<</if>> It has been a while. You have come with a cohort, I see?" Her voice is scratchy and flowing all at once, resounding with a sort of placid authority through the chill air. Somehow it reminds you of a coiled snake, biding its time. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Ah, Grandmaster Enota. It has been a while, aye. Let it be my pleasure to introduce to you, young $firstname." He beckons for you to step forward,<<else>>Aunt Sonia's cheeks are drawn into the hollow of her mouth for a moment as she seems to bite them. When she speaks, it's with a calm countenance that almost betrays a grudging respect. "A long while, Grandmaster, you look well. This," she holds a splayed-open hand out to you, "is $firstname. I don't think you've properly met $them yet." With that, she beckons you to move forward,<</if>> so you do, <<if $cautious < 50>>head held high. It's this close that you realise that her badge--a Grandmaster's badge--differs slightly in form to that of the Master. The wings on the blade extend beyond the frame of the badge's shield shape, and a twelve-spoked wheel sits behind the blade itself. Grandmaster Enota peers down at you through green eyes that shine with a hint of yellow-gold. They look diluted, almost, amidst the shadowed ring of her eyelids. "Very good, young one. A Bladeweaver, prospective or not, never trembles. You are an example I could present to some of our eighth years." She nods coolly at <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia, and you take that as permission to return to her side.<<else>>Uncle Callen, and you take that as permission to return to his side.<</if>><<else>>shakily. It's this close that you realise that her badge--a Grandmaster's badge--differs slightly in form to that of the Master. The wings on the blade extend beyond the frame of the badge's shield shape, and a twelve-spoked wheel sits behind the blade itself. Grandmaster Enota peers down at you through green eyes that shine with a hint of yellow-gold. They look diluted, almost, amidst the shadowed ring of her eyelids. "Hold your head high, young one. A Bladeweaver, prospective or not, never trembles." You nod hurriedly, hoping you didn't offend this //quite// daunting lady, and hurriedly return to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's side, forgetting that she hadn't even dismissed you.<<else>>Uncle Callen's side, forgetting that she hadn't even dismissed you.<</if>><</if>> With that done, her attention turns to Sam, who seems unbothered by her scrutiny. "Have you and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Master Edros<<else>>Master Wierszy<</if>> been collecting more children?" She asks without a hint of mirth. [[Next|Chap2Scene108a]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"This is Samuel Alban, Grandmaster. Son of a merchant that moved in next to us, an' the $callenChild thought to invite him out with us today." Uncle Callen explains, while Sam and Grandmaster Enota lock eyes.<<else>>"This one is Sam." Aunt Sonia gestures to him, "he's our neighbour and was invited by $firstname. I could hardly say no, could I?" She smirks at the boy, though her tone edges on being defensive. There's no need for her to be argumentative, but something about this lady seems to just set your Aunt Sonia off...<</if>> Sam gives a loose wave, unbound by--or perhaps unaware of--the etiquette her position demands. "Hello, Miss Enota!" The severe woman's mouth quirks in an almost-smile, and she corrects him: "Proper address would be 'Grandmaster Enota', or 'Lady Grandmaster Enota', if we wish to be old-fashioned about things. //I do not.//" She whispers the last part, her expression subtly shifting into an amused smirk. "Oh, alright!" Sam chirps, standing up on his tiptoes before trying again to address her, this time in a much more official-sounding tone: "Very nice to meet you, Grandmaster Enota!" The Grandmaster chuffs, somewhat amused. "A spirited young man, hm? You choose your friends well, $firstname." She nods at you. <<if $samRelationship < 50>>She's not exactly right about Sam being your friend, but you know better than to correct her.<<else>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, Grandmaster. Are we to be escorted, or would you have us navigate this maze with a cup of water as our reward?" There's an amused lilt to her tone, betraying that this might be something Grandmaster Enota has done in the past. Grandmaster Enota confirms your suspicion by laughing politely. "I hold no such authority over you anymore, Master Wierszy, and I'll not hold such authority over //you// for a couple of years." She turns to you as she says this, tone completely level and serious. "If you do not mind, Master Wierszy, I would like to speak with you for a moment. Alone. The children can be escorted to Master Edros' quarters?" Her words are phrased as a question, but there's little room to budge in them. With no other option, Aunt Sonia nods stiffly. "That's alright. You two can follow these guards and go and annoy Callen, yeah?" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>It's not ideal, but there's no other option,<<else>>That suits you just fine,<</if>><<else>>Uncle Callen smiles graciously, and prepares to ask a question. "Grandmaster, would ye be so kind as to show us the way to Master Wierszy's quarters? I'll be t'first to confess that I bleedin' //hate// arenas like this. Damned mazes, they are." Grandmaster Enota laughs politely. "Of course, Master Edros. Though, I am afraid I require a mote of your time, before you go. The children may be escorted by my guards, if that pleases you?" Her words are phrased as a question, but there's little room to budge in their meaning. With no other option, Uncle Callen nods conciliatingly. "O' course, Grandmaster. Alright, you two." He turns to you and Sam, "no burnin' the place down, eh?" Before sending you off. <<if $callenClose > 50>>It's not ideal, but there's no other option,<<else>>That suits you just fine,<</if>><</if>> so you trudge off with Sam in tow, flanked by two of Grandmaster Enota's portentous-looking guards. One would think they were servicing a funeral, rather than a festival. You hope that's not how //you'll// be as a Bladeweaver. You're taken through the winding halls of the colosseum's interior, stealing glances at the open space in the colosseum's central grounds through the odd window here and there: a patchwork of various stands and obstacle courses, built into the arena's underground, rise and fall with a mechanical lurch as they are tested before the events begin. As you walk, Sam taps your shoulder to mumble in your ear, "Why did she call <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Miss Sonia by her last name<<else>>Mister Callen by his last name<</if>>, but she wants to be called by her //first// name? I never heard of any group doin' it that way. S'weird, $samNick <<nobr>><</nobr>>..." //Charisma...// <<if $charisma > 1>>//Success.// "It's part of the Order's etiquette, where there are only a few Grandmasters but way too many Masters to be on a first-name basis." You shrug. " Or at least that's how it's told in the histories. It's so old that nobody really remembers the proper reason behind everything, it just //is// like that."<<else>>//Failure.// You shrug. "I don't know, really. It's probably just been done that way forever."<</if>> "That's a naff answer..." He sulks, but doesn't ask any further. [[Meanwhile...|Chap2Scene109]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia stands still for a moment as Enota turns and beckons her to follow, striding over to a stone railing at the very edge of the raised section they stand upon. She rolls her shoulders before striding over with loud, firm steps. Enota's hands are clasped behind her back, and she stands an inch or two taller for it. The stringent-looking woman only blinks at Sonia's approach, and does not budge when the young Master leans on the railing, looking down below to the underbelly of the arena, where workers flit to and fro in preparation for the upcoming events. The odd magician rushes around, carrying oversized tomes and various esoteric tools. "I must say, I envy them not." Enota remarks, taking a short glance downwards. "What we do is paltry in comparison." Sonia snorts quietly, glancing at her. "What //you// do, Grandmaster. You've not seen battle in near on nine years." The Grandmaster hums, shrugging slightly. "I hadn't realised it was so long since..." "I take it you didn't ask me over here for a chat about our work, Grandmaster." Enota unclasps her hands, folding them now at her front while shifting slightly closer to Sonia, who unconsciously moves back from her superior's approach. "I did not. Through my deductive skill, I have noticed your current state. I always quite liked your hair, Wierszy. It reminded me of myself as a younger woman." Sonia doesn't even smile at the comment. "I'll try to forget you said that, thanks. It was hardly a choice, mind you. I got complacent on a mission and paid for it with my hair and knee..." "A pity. You must know this complacency will cost more than that, of course. Much is owed, especially by yourself and Master Edros. The situation on the surface is only worsening, despite the efforts of the Crown and beyond to boost our Order's influence to its former reach. Events like this," she sweeps a hand out to the clamour below, "are mere //advertisement// for our efforts. I feel they are nowhere near as effective as my methods, however." Sonia frowns, eyes narrowed. "I don't think you have the authority to--" Enota cuts her off sharply. "You are Debt-bound to follow the Council's will, when called upon to do so. In Grandmaster Abraham's absence, I act as the Council's head. Is that clear?" "I understand, Grandmaster." Sonia speaks as if in a trance. "A Debt is owed." "Indeed it is, Master Wierszy. Know that I do not envy your position, much as you placed yourself in it eight years ago, and trust that you will be well rewarded once young $firstname completes $their education at the Academy." "What'd you have me do, then?" Sonia stiffens, sensing that something is to be required of her, beyond the regular purview of her duties. Grandmaster Enota smiles softly, lines forming around her eyes like a set of thin, spindly legs. Sonia's never gave much thought as to the Grandmaster's personal sigil beast--the spider--but now she can only fixate on the image as Enota's request leaves her lips. "In the town of Carrefo, in the mid-north, there lives a Lord of little consequence to anybody, except for us. The fool resists our efforts to expand in the region, and can not be made to see sense, uncaring as to how much gold we send his way. Further ... //convincing// is required. He has a son who we believe may be more accommodating to our requests." Sonia's emerald eyes are alight with indignant fire. "You mean..." Enota's voice drops to a raspy whisper. "In due time, you will receive the full scope of your task by courier. Do not take your Empyrean blade, be quick and be inconspicuous. Tell //nobody//. For the Bladeweavers' Order." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Sonia murmurs in a compelled stupor. "For the Bladeweavers' Order."|Chap2Scene110]]<<else>>[[Sonia murmurs in a compelled stupor. "For the Bladeweavers' Order."|Chap2Scene110b]]<</if>><<else>>Callen watches the Grandmaster stride over to a stone railing at the very edge of the raised section they stand upon, before she beckons him over. He follows hesitantly, glancing at Enota's assigned guards that remain where they are, silent as he passes them. Enota's hands are clasped behind her back, and she stands an inch or two taller for it. The stringent-looking woman nods at Callen's approach, and does not budge when the hulking Master clasps his hands around the railing and leans forward slightly, looking down below to the underbelly of the arena where workers flit to and fro in preparation for the upcoming events. The odd magician rushes around, carrying oversized tomes and various esoteric tools. "I must say, I envy them not." Enota remarks, taking a short glance downwards. "What we do is paltry in comparison." "Aye," Callen breathes somberly. "a true pity we're the ones bein' paraded around today." He glances cheekily at her. "Though I'd say it's been a good decade since ye personally saw battle, Grandmaster. Administrative work truly //is// paltry, by my reckonin'." Enota snorts. "Always with a joke on your tongue, Edros. I've oft admired that ability..." Callen smiles, and his voice drops to a calming request. "What was it ye wished to speak of, Grandmaster?" Enota unclasps her hands, folding them now at her front while shifting slightly closer to the taller man, who unconsciously moves back from his superior's approach. "And to the point, another quality of yours I've admired. I do hope your head is recovering quickly?" "I'm still a little dizzy some days, but it's healin' well. S'just a shame I couldn't reach a healer in time to get it sorted quickly..." "A shame, indeed." Enota sighs, almost regretful, before continuing. "It pains me to admit that your absence shall incur a cost, Master Edros. The situation on the surface is only worsening, despite the efforts of the Crown and beyond to boost our Order's influence to its former reach. Events like this," she sweeps a hand out to the clamour below, "are mere //advertisement// for our efforts. I feel they are nowhere near as effective as my methods, however." Callen looks uncertainly at her. "The terms of the Debt are--" "That you are bound to follow the will of the Council, yes." Enota cuts Callen off, blinking slowly at him. "A Council that I find myself at the head of, in Grandmaster Abraham's absence. Have I made myself clear?" "I understand, Grandmaster." Callen speaks as if in a sort of trance. "A Debt is owed." "Indeed it is, Master Edros. Know that I do not envy your position, much as you placed yourself in it eight years ago, and trust that you will be well rewarded once young $firstname completes $their education at the Academy. The position of Grandmaster waits within reach for you, if you so chose it." "I'm seein' a request comin'..." Callen mutters uneasily, trying to make eye contact with the woman but failing. Grandmaster Enota smiles softly, lines forming around her eyes like thin, spindlyv legs. Callen had long wondered why she had chosen the spider as her sigil beast, but comes to understand, in this very moment, as the request leaves the Grandmaster's lips. "In the town of Carrefo, in the mid-north, there lives a Lord of little consequence to anybody, except for us. The fool resists our efforts to expand in the region, and can not be made to see sense, uncaring as to how much gold we send his way. Further ... //convincing// is required. He has a son who we believe may be more accommodating to our requests." Callen's grey eyes are awash with disbelieving horror. "You would have me..." Enota's voice drops to a raspy whisper. "In due time, you will receive the full scope of your task by courier. Do not take your Empyrean blade, be quick and be inconspicuous. Tell //nobody//. For the Bladeweavers' Order." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Callen murmurs in a compelled stupor. "For the Bladeweavers' Order."|Chap2Scene110]]<<else>>[[Callen murmurs in a compelled stupor. "For the Bladeweavers' Order."|Chap2Scene110b]]<</if>><</if>>

You and Sam must make quite a sight, two children flanked by an escort of elite Bladeweaver Knights, given that you're met by odd looks by nearly every person you pass on your way to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen's<<else>>Aunt Sonia's<</if>> assigned quarters. "Everybody's looking at us." He mumbles, more to himself than anything, not expecting you to respond. One of the guards accompanying you, a tall woman with a long braid of thick, white-blonde hair adorned with polished obsidians and a glittery rapier stowed at her side, thins her mouth in masked sympathy for the boy. [[So you don't. Walk in silence. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene111a][$cold to $cold + 1]] [[You lift your chin. "So what? Let them look." (Volatile +, Stubborn +, Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene111b][$volatile to $volatile + 1, $stubborn to $stubborn + 2, $chivalrous to $chivalrous + 2]] [["Yeah..." You agree, shakily. It's unnerving: what are they thinking? (Cautious +, Optimistic -)|Chap2Scene111c][$cautious to $cautious + 1, $optimistic to $optimistic - 2]] [[🌞+ "Hey, it's okay. At least they aren't just looking at one of us."|Chap2Scene111d][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞 - "You'll get over it." You roll your eyes.|Chap2Scene111e][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]]

The boy keeps avoiding eye contact with any who look his way until you reach your destination. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you and Sam. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<</if>>" As the door opens wider and you are ushered in, Sam stares at the young mage's outfit and jewellery. With a half-open mouth, he whispers, "Is that the mage? //The// mage?" "I am //a// mage, yes. I would like to say I am //the// mage, but there are others who slightly exceed my own talents. Not by much, however." Archer brushes past, smiling wryly at Sam while revealing they'd heard everything he said. "How'd you hear that?" He gapes up at the sleekly-dressed mage, whose hands are covered in a rough-looking powder, that glimmers slightly under the harsh light in the room. Archer sniffs haughtily before answering, "I placed a hex upon the doorway; all who enter have their innermost thoughts revealed without delay. I see all of what you are, boy. I //know// you didn't wash behind your ears this morning, nor the morning before that." Their voice goes deeper and deeper as they speak, an ominous look brewing in their brown eyes as they lean forward. Sam leans back in turn, looking increasingly disturbed. "I--I meant to, but I forgot! Please don--" He stammers, and Archer snorts, quite unlike them, before standing back to their regular height. "I jest. There is no hex, your thoughts are your own. You are simply quite loud, is all, my young friend. I am Archer Ryburn, Archmage. Who do I have the pleasure of terrifying?" [[Next|Chap2Scene112]]

"Hey, that's the spirit!" He giggles, then points at a random guest--who hadn't even been looking at you--and calls out to them, "We //don't// care if you're lookin' at us, got it?!" The target of his proclamation, a balding man with a bulbous-looking red nose, turns around quickly with a bewildered look on his face. "Beg pardon?" Sam grimaces, blushing. "Oh--nothin', I was ... talking to someone else!" The two guards accompanying you share a look and a quiet snicker. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you and Sam. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<</if>>" As the door opens wider and you are ushered in, Sam stares at the young mage's outfit and jewellery. With a half-open mouth, he whispers, "Is that the mage? //The// mage?" "I am //a// mage, yes. I would like to say I am //the// mage, but there are others who slightly exceed my own talents. Not by much, however." Archer brushes past, smiling wryly at Sam while revealing they'd heard everything he said. "How'd you hear that?" He gapes up at the sleekly-dressed mage, whose hands are covered in a rough-looking powder, that glimmers slightly under the harsh light in the room. Archer sniffs haughtily before answering, "I placed a hex upon the doorway, all who enter have their innermost thoughts revealed without delay. I see all of what you are, I //know// you didn't wash your face this morning, boy." Their voice goes deeper and deeper as they speak, an ominous look brewing in their brown eyes as they lean forward. Sam leans back in turn, looking increasingly disturbed. "I--I wanted to, but I forgot! Please don--" He stammers, and Archer snorts, quite unlike them, before standing back to their regular height. "I jest. There is no hex, your thoughts are your own. You are simply quite loud, is all, my young friend. I am Archer Ryburn, Archmage." [[Next|Chap2Scene112]]

He tries to smile for your sake, apparently less disturbed by the fact than you are. "It's alright, $samNick. These two'll stop anyone from doin' anything. This one's even got an //axe//!" The boy points to the guard at your right, who indeed carries an ornamental-looking hefty axe wrought from Empyrean, all flowing curves and gleaming turquoise. The other guard scoffs, muttering under her breath, "Kids always like the axes..." When Sam turns around to praise her weapon--a bejewelled rapier with a curved guard--in turn, she startles. She clearly had not expected him to hear that. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you and Sam. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<</if>>" As the door opens wider and you are ushered in, Sam stares at the young mage's outfit and jewellery. With a half-open mouth, he whispers, "Is that the mage? //The// mage?" "I am //a// mage, yes. I would like to say I am //the// mage, but there are others who slightly exceed my own talents. Not by much, however." Archer brushes past, smiling wryly at Sam while revealing they'd heard everything he said. "How'd you hear that?" He gapes up at the sleekly-dressed mage, whose hands are covered in a rough-looking powder, that glimmers slightly under the harsh light in the room. Archer sniffs haughtily before answering, "I placed a hex upon the doorway, all who enter have their innermost thoughts revealed without delay. I see all of what you are, I //know// you didn't wash your face this morning, boy." Their voice goes deeper and deeper as they speak, an ominous look brewing in their brown eyes as they lean forward. Sam leans back in turn, looking increasingly disturbed. "I--I wanted to, but I forgot! Please don--" He stammers, and Archer snorts, quite unlike them, before standing back to their regular height. "I jest. There is no hex, your thoughts are your own. You are simply quite loud, is all, my young friend. I am Archer Ryburn, Archmage." [[Next|Chap2Scene112]]

"I guess you're right, $samNick." He smiles a little now, "We've got each other. Just don't you walk away!" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>You make to do exactly that, and he skips over to clutch your arm. "Don't you dare!"<<else>>You make an exaggerated step closer to him, <<if $samRomance == 2>>smiling wryly at the pinkness to his cheeks as you approach,<<else>><</if>> and keep walking.<</if>> "I won't." You assure, and he breathes a sigh of mock-relief. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you and Sam. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<</if>>" As the door opens wider and you are ushered in, Sam stares at the young mage's outfit and jewellery. With a half-open mouth, he whispers, "Is that the mage? //The// mage?" "I am //a// mage, yes. I would like to say I am //the// mage, but there are others who slightly exceed my own talents. Not by much, however." Archer brushes past, smiling wryly at Sam while revealing they'd heard everything he said. "How'd you hear that?" He gapes up at the sleekly-dressed mage, whose hands are covered in a rough-looking powder, that glimmers slightly under the harsh light in the room. Archer sniffs haughtily before answering, "I placed a hex upon the doorway, all who enter have their innermost thoughts revealed without delay. I see all of what you are, I //know// you didn't wash your face this morning, boy." Their voice goes deeper and deeper as they speak, an ominous look brewing in their brown eyes as they lean forward. Sam leans back in turn, looking increasingly disturbed. "I--I wanted to, but I forgot! Please don--" He stammers, and Archer snorts, quite unlike them, before standing back to their regular height. "I jest. There is no hex, your thoughts are your own. You are simply quite loud, is all, my young friend. I am Archer Ryburn, Archmage." [[Next|Chap2Scene112]]

In lieu of any response, Sam looks off to the side, sighing. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you and Sam. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here, with $their friend!<</if>>" As the door opens wider and you are ushered in, Sam stares at the young mage's outfit and jewellery. With a half-open mouth, he whispers, "Is that the mage? //The// mage?" "I am //a// mage, yes. I would like to say I am //the// mage, but there are others who slightly exceed my own talents. Not by much, however." Archer brushes past, smiling wryly at Sam while revealing they'd heard everything he said. "How'd you hear that?" He gapes up at the sleekly-dressed mage, whose hands are covered in a rough-looking powder, that glimmers slightly under the harsh light in the room. Archer sniffs haughtily before answering, "I placed a hex upon the doorway, all who enter have their innermost thoughts revealed without delay. I see all of what you are, I //know// you didn't wash your face this morning, boy." Their voice goes deeper and deeper as they speak, an ominous look brewing in their brown eyes as they lean forward. Sam leans back in turn, looking increasingly disturbed. "I--I wanted to, but I forgot! Please don--" He stammers, and Archer snorts, quite unlike them, before standing back to their regular height. "I jest. There is no hex, your thoughts are your own. You are simply quite loud, is all, my young friend. I am Archer Ryburn, Archmage." [[Next|Chap2Scene112]]

Sam hesitates for a moment, assessing Archer with all the skepticism one would give a dangerous-looking beast. Ultimately, he gives a little carefree shrug, sticking his hand out. Archer shakes it primly for a second before letting go. "I'm Samuel, but you gotta call me Sam. //'Specially// after you played that trick on me!" Archer's smirk is ever-present, and they bow their head in sarcastic reverence. "Very well, Sam it is." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Leave the lad alone, Archie." A new voice, all-too-familiar, comes from the far left of the room. Your gaze snaps to Uncle Callen, half-clad in ceremonial-looking armour, perched on a chair that looks a little too small for his hefty frame. His greying hair is tied tightly back, lending him a more soldierly look. When he locks eyes with you, he smiles toothily through his beard. "There's my $callenChild! C'mere." [[🐺+ Rush over to hug him. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🐺+ Bound over, smiling. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113b][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🐺+ "Hello." You grunt, even though you're happy to see him. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[🐺- "Hello." You grunt. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c][$callenClose to $callenClose - 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[Walk over, peering around. "What have you been doing?"|chap2Scene113d]]<<else>>"Archer, you're not at the guild tower. Tormenting children isn't part of your duties with us, if you'd remember." A new voice, all-too-familiar, comes from the far left of the room. Your gaze snaps to Aunt Sonia, half-clad in ceremonial-looking armour, perched on a chair that looks less than comfortable. Her hair is tied up and away from her face, leading you to realise that you very rarely, if ever, see Aunt Sonia's ears. How strange. Like the rest of her, they are slightly pointed. When she locks eyes with you, she gives a small but proud smile. "You made it here in one piece, kid!" [[🦅+ Rush over to hug her. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🦅+ Bound over, smiling. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113b][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🦅+ "Hello." You grunt, even though you're happy to see her. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[🦅- "Hello." You grunt. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[Walk over, peering around. "What have you been doing?"|chap2Scene113d]]<</if>>

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>He is cold to the touch from wearing the steel, but you don't mind. "Aye, what little I've got on" he looks down at what little of it he's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--and sighs dejectedly, "a pity I don't own it."<<else>>She is cold to the touch from wearing the steel, but you don't mind. "It's pretty pretty, isn't it? I've hardly got any of it on yet." She looks at what little of it she's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--in an appraising manner as if she wasn't the one currently wearing it all. "Wish I was able to save enough to get some of my own."<</if>> "What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me the odd little boost while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> "What sort of spells?" Sam pipes up, hovering around Archer who occasionally glances from their book to make sure the boy isn't touching any of their things. He turns his head as he asks the question, not taking his eyes off of your half-armoured mentor. Instead, Archer answers behind him. "An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth." Sam frowns. "Isn't that cheating, or something?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Normally it would be, lad, but these things're allowed for the sake o' theatre. Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen explains.<<else>>"If everybody's cheating, nobody is." Aunt Sonia smirks at his confused expression. "My opponent will be having this done to him as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> "Feels wrong..." Sam mutters, looking around the room idly. Archer titters lightly, fiddling with a small station of vials and tubes through which an inky green liquid flows. "You are more than welcome to take it up with the organizers of the exhibition, young man." [[Next|Chap2Scene114]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"So, where's Callen?" Aunt Sonia slowly gets up, flexing her neck and begins to almost march around, the jingle of her chainmail shirt turning into a rhythmic tune. "Talking with this Enota lady!" Sam answers before you can. "She was //scaaary//." <<if $samRelationship < 50 and $volatile >= 50>>You shoot him an irritated glare, and the boy shrinks away from you slightly.<<else>><</if>> Aunt Sonia grimaces. "Gods willing, he'll make it back in one piece..." Archer gives her an exasperated look over their shoulder. "Grandmaster Enota //really// is not that terrible, Sonia. Have you ever considered that you are a prickly person, and that not everybody you mislike is a beast made flesh?" She sniffs. "Given it a passing thought, settled on 'no'."<<else>>"Where might yer Aunt Sonia be, $callenChild?" Uncle Callen struggles out of the chair, blushing slightly when it stays attached around his hips. After dislodging himself from the wooden trap, he shuffles around in idle thought, restless. "Talking with this Enota lady!" Sam answers before you can. "She was //scaaary//." <<if $samRelationship < 50 and $volatile >= 50>>You shoot him an irritated glare, and the boy shrinks away from you slightly.<<else>><</if>> Uncle Callen laughs softly. "That's how I used to describe her meself, lad. Even when I was a boy, she could bring anybody to heel with a nasty look." Archer smirks, looking at him over their shoulder. "I know someone quite like that, incidentally." The bearded man chews his lip, looking away. "If ye value anythin' in this world, Archie, do not let Sonia hear you say that." "That you know //exactly// who I speak of only affirms my point." They shrug, returning to their esoteric work.<</if>> [[The sound of the door opening draws your collective attention.|Chap2Scene115]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Aye," he looks down at what little of it he's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--and sighs dejectedly, "a pity I don't own it."<<else>>"It's pretty pretty, isn't it? I've hardly got any of it on yet." She looks at what little of it she's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--in an appraising manner as if she wasn't the one currently wearing it all. "Wish I was able to save enough to get some of my own..."<</if>> "What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me nasty-tasting potions while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> "What sort of spells?" Sam pipes up, hovering around Archer who occasionally glances from their book to make sure the boy isn't touching any of their things. He turns his head as he asks the question, not taking his eyes off of your half-armoured mentor. Instead, Archer answers behind him. "An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth." Sam frowns. "Isn't that cheating, or something?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Normally it would be, lad, but these things're allowed for the sake o' theatre. Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen explains.<<else>>"If everybody's cheating, nobody is." Aunt Sonia smirks at his confused expression. "Whoever I'm fighting is, they'll having this done to them as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> "Feels wrong..." Sam mutters, looking around the room idly. Archer titters lightly, fiddling with a small station of vials and tubes through which an inky green liquid flows. "You are more than welcome to take it up with the organizers of the exhibition, young man." [[Next|Chap2Scene114]]

<<if $samRomance > 0>>You can't look too needy in front of Sam, though he probably wouldn't care about an earnest display of affection like that. They seem like his bread and butter.<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">>He smiles at your response, chilly as it is. He understands how you are sometimes.<<else>>She smiles slightly at your response, chilly as it is. She is often much the same with greetings, so there's a mutual brusqueness that you share.<</if>><</if>> "What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me nasty-tasting potions while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> "What sort of spells?" Sam pipes up, hovering around Archer who occasionally glances from their book to make sure the boy isn't touching any of their things. He turns his head as he asks the question, not taking his eyes off of your half-armoured mentor. Instead, Archer answers behind him. "An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth." Sam frowns. "Isn't that cheating, or something?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Normally it would be, lad, but these things're allowed for the sake o' theatre. Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen explains.<<else>>"If everybody's cheating, nobody is." Aunt Sonia smirks at his confused expression. "Whoever I'm fighting is, they'll having this done to them as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> "Feels wrong..." Sam mutters, looking around the room idly. Archer titters lightly, fiddling with a small station of vials and tubes through which an inky green liquid flows. "You are more than welcome to take it up with the organizers of the exhibition, young man." [[Next|Chap2Scene114]]

"What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me nasty-tasting potions while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> "What sort of spells?" Sam pipes up, hovering around Archer who occasionally glances from their book to make sure the boy isn't touching any of their things. He turns his head as he asks the question, not taking his eyes off of your half-armoured mentor. Instead, Archer answers behind him. "An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth." Sam frowns. "Isn't that cheating, or something?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Normally it would be, lad, but these things're allowed for the sake o' theatre. Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen explains.<<else>>"If everybody's cheating, nobody is." Aunt Sonia smirks at his confused expression. "Whoever I'm fighting is, they'll having this done to them as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> "Feels wrong..." Sam mutters, looking around the room idly. Archer titters lightly, fiddling with a small station of vials and tubes through which an inky green liquid flows. "You are more than welcome to take it up with the organizers of the exhibition, young man." [[Next|Chap2Scene114]]

//World's a bad place. Full of bad people.// Twinkling little pools of shiny $eyecolour give the courier pause. //Whatever blasted life waits for this little $callenChild down in Calis ain't likely to be a good one.// The courier had thought himself a good courier, once. //Suppose that changes now.// Setting the squirming little bundle on the cold stone steps of some tavern whose name he'd never remember, the courier pulls the letter from his pocket. Crisp, clean white paper, sealed shut with a marbled wax seal of inky black and blue, depicting a darkened sun with four points. A jolt runs down the courier's spine, and he shivers. Somehow he knows it's not from the cold. //Must be a foreign seal//, he idly remarks, hastily pulling out his dagger and breaking the seal. A nearby street torch provides adequate light for the courier to read, silently thanking his pa for bothering to teach him, all those years ago. The courier reads. And reads. And reads. [[And reads.|PrologueScene3]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>When Aunt Sonia's short-clipped hair and familiar prickly mien pass through the door, Uncle Callen gives a little cheer, rushing over to clap her on the shoulder. "Oh, lass, it's been just terrible without ye. Did y'know I'm not even allowed to //eat// before the fight?" She swats his hand away and shakes her head. "You wouldn't catch me fighting a duel where I can't even eat my worries away beforehand, Cal. Not in this universe." [[Ask what she was doing.|Chap2Scene116Cala]] [[Greet her, rather than asking anything. You're sure somebody else will, anyway. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene116Calb][$cold to $cold - 1]]<<else>>When Uncle Callen's bruised head and half-smile pass through the door, Aunt Sonia breathes a quiet sigh of relief, striding over to question him on his absence. "And where have you been, that meant leaving $firstname to walk here without you?" Her sharp eyebrows are furrowed, creasing the little bit of skin between them into a sharply-defined knot. He looks puzzled by her sudden enquiry, babbling uselessly as Archer looks on, equally amused. [[🐺+ Come to his defence. (Chivalrous ++)|Chap2Scene116Sona][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $chivalrous to $chivalrous + 2]] <<link "<q>What //were// you doing?</q> You ask, equally as dubious as her. (Optimistic -)">> <<goto Chap2Scene116Sonb>><<set $optimistic to $optimistic - 1>> <</link>><</if>> [[Let them handle this on their own.|Chap2Scene116a]]

<<if $volatile > 50>>You turn to her, <<if $eyecolour == "amber">>amber eyes appropriately fiery<<else>>the fire in your eyes a contrast to their $eyecolour hue<</if>>exclaiming, "Let him be, Aunt Sonia! We were //fine//."<<else>>You turn to her, frowning slightly though you retain your calm. "We had guards, Aunt Sonia. We got here fine, didn't we?"<</if>> She looks at you without speaking for a moment, and glances at Uncle Callen. "You're gonna let a $child who only recently started tying $their own bootlaces fight your battles, Cal?" He shrugs with his hands, as if that was actually an option. "The $callenChild is makin' a pretty good point, y'know..." "Callen." "Right! I was speakin' with Grandmaster Enota. She wanted me for somethin', simple as that." When Aunt Sonia's brow furrows even more and she makes to speak, he throws a finger up. "An' I //knew// ye'd respond like that, so I didn't want to say anythin'. Don't worry, it's absolutely nothin', just a simple request." He moves to lean on a nearby table, affecting an air of oddly nervous nonchalance. "A request you won't tell me about?" She angles her head down and stares up at him, sighing in a manner that almost turns into a growl. "Aye." Whatever Aunt Sonia is thinking about, she ultimately drops the matter with another shrug. "Alright, then. Help me put this stuff on?" She points with a thumb towards a half-emptied armour stand. "Nothin' would please me more, lass." He grins, pushing off the table with more childish whimsy than he's displayed the entire day. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Next|Chap2Scene117]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene117b]]<</if>>

<<if $cold > 50>>"And what were //you// doing?" You stroll up to her, crossing your arms in a mimicry of Aunt Sonia's own interrogations you've seen in the past. She looks you up and down, unimpressed, before tapping you in the very centre of your chest, right beneath your collarbone. It causes you to stumble back, surprised, and you almost find yourself on the floor before she grips your arm. "You can't be intimidating if you've got no balance, $firstname," she lectures with a smug look in her eyes before letting you go. <<else>>"What //were// you doing?" You ask.<</if>> "I was talking with Enota, if you're all so curious..." She mutters, glancing at Uncle Callen once you've righted yourself. Archer stops what they're doing with a clatter, staring at her for a few seconds. "Something you are //so// prone to doing, of course. We cannot pull you away from her, hm?" "Y'don't wanna tell me, lass?" Uncle Callen frowns, concerned. "Or ... is it somethin' else?" She blinks, absentmindedly squeezing her arm. "Something else." There's a second of uncomfortable silence, with even Sam suddenly finding the floor of particular interest, before Uncle Callen acquiesces. "Alright then, lass. Ye're a big girl, an' I'll not push for answers I can't get. P'raps I'll talk to Grandmaster Enota meself..." "You're welcome to, just don't invite me." She finally laughs, wagging her finger at him. Archer, having silently moved behind her, gasps. "But I thought you were--" "Quiet, Archer." Aunt Sonia snaps her fingers at them, before her gaze lands on the rest of Uncle Callen's armour, stored on a dummy. "Let's help you get the rest of this on, big man." "Ye're a lifesaver, lass!" He breathes in relief while rubbing his side, still sore from the uncomfortable chair he was sat in. She does a little bow. "So I've heard." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Next|Chap2Scene117]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene117b]]<</if>>

<<if $soniaClose > 60>>You greet her with all the enthusiasm that is appropriate, and once done she wears an unusual little smile, forced away when Archer starts giggling.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 60 and $soniaClose <= 51>>You greet her in your usual manner, and she taps your arm lightly afterwards.<<elseif $soniaClose < 50>>Your greeting is, as usual, clipped and distant. Aunt Sonia hardly pays it any mind, but the thinning of her lips is a sure sign she's more affected by it than she lets on.<</if>> When she speaks, it's with an air of uncanny nonchalance. "Talking with Enota." Archer stops what they're doing with a clatter, staring at her for a few seconds. "Something you are //so// prone to doing, of course. We cannot pull you away from her, hm?" "Y'don't wanna tell me, lass?" Uncle Callen frowns, concerned. "Or ... is it somethin' else?" She blinks, absentmindedly squeezing her arm. "Something else." There's a second of uncomfortable silence, with even Sam suddenly finding the floor of particular interest, before Uncle Callen acquiesces. "Alright then, lass. Ye're a big girl, an' I'll not push for answers I can't get. P'raps I'll talk to Grandmaster Enota meself..." "You're welcome to, just don't invite me." She finally laughs, wagging her finger at him. Archer, having silently moved behind her, gasps. "But I thought you were--" "Quiet, Archer." Aunt Sonia snaps her fingers at them, before her gaze lands on the rest of Uncle Callen's armour, stored on a dummy. "Let's help you get the rest of this on, big man." "Ye're a lifesaver, lass!" He breathes in relief while rubbing his side, still sore from the uncomfortable chair he was sat in. She does a little bow. "So I've heard." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Next|Chap2Scene117]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene117b]]<</if>>

He actually begins to sweat a little, looking between your two piercing glares. "Ye've got to stop teachin' the $child how to interrogate people, lass..." He mutters. <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"That doesn't sound like an answer, Uncle Callen." You smirk, folding your arms and shuffling closer. He jokingly puts his hands up as if ready to fight you.<<else>>"Answer the question." You frown, shuffling closer. He jokingly puts his hands up as if ready to fight you, and you scowl at his nonchalance.<</if>> Aunt Sonia shrugs, folding her arms. "Seems to be working, even if you //haven't// answered the question yet." He gives up, defeated, and leans on a nearby table, old and sturdy. "Grandmaster Enota wanted me for somethin', simple as that." When Aunt Sonia's brow furrows even more and she makes to speak, he throws a finger up. "An' I //knew// ye'd respond like that, so I didn't want to say anythin'. Don't worry, it's absolutely nothin', just a simple request." He moves to lean on a nearby table, affecting an air of oddly nervous nonchalance. "A request you won't tell me about?" She angles her head down and stares up at him, sighing in a manner that almost turns into a growl. "Aye." Whatever Aunt Sonia is thinking about, she ultimately drops the matter with another shrug. "Alright, then. Help me put this stuff on?" She points with a thumb towards a half-emptied armour stand. "Nothin' would please me more, lass." He grins, pushing off the table with more childish whimsy than he's displayed the entire day. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Next|Chap2Scene117]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene117b]]<</if>>

The next half an hour passes laboriously, with you and Sam left with little but one another's company to pass the time with. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>Not that you particularly mind<<if $samRomance >= 1>>, especially since you've been eager to simply spend time alone--relatively--with your golden-haired neighbour for a while now.<<else>>.<</if>><<elseif $samRelationship <= 49 and $samRelationship >= 41>>You spend long stretches in awkward silence, not being particularly close<<if $samRomance == 1>>, though you use these opportunities to steal the odd glance at the boy, chest full of all sorts of feelings.<<elseif $samRomance == 2>>, though each of you end up using these opportunities to steal the odd glance at one another, hopelessly conspicuous in your shy glancing. At one point, Uncle Callen stifles an amused snort but quickly looks away nonchalantly when you and Sam stare at him.<<else>>.<</if>><<elseif $samRelationship < 40>>A frigid silence hangs between each of you, with the boy hardly ever even //looking// your way, let alone daring to speak.<<if $samRomance > 1>>A part of you is disappointed, the part that very much wants Sam to look at you, speak with you, but the part that does //not// want such things to happen seems to be governing your relationship for the time being.<<else>><</if>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>This silence is blissfully interrupted when Aunt Sonia decides to speak up, her head now partially covered by a thin coif, intended to go beneath the chainmail and helm that will eventually protect her head and face in the duel to come. "I'm curious, Cal," she declares, absentmindedly fiddling with some straps on her embellished vambraces, "I didn't catch the two that brought $firstname and Sam through the doorway. I'm guessing you did on your way here, though." She looks pointedly at him, eyebrow raised. Aunt Sonia very rarely--if ever--asks questions or makes requests. She always demands an answer, or finds a way to ask without actually asking. "Arne and Otto, if I'm rememberin' right. Otto tried to bow while he was walkin', for some reason." She snorts. "Always been a deck-washer, that one: makes sense he'd be in Enota's entourage. He was probably head-over-heels at a chance to gain the //mighty// Grey Wolf's favour." Uncle Callen makes a disgruntled face. "Lass, it's been at least twenty-five years since someone's called me that. My glory-houndin' days are long past. I'll settle for steady an' boring--relatively..."<<else>>This silence is blissfully interrupted when Uncle Callen decides to speak up, his head now partially covered by a thin coif, intended to go beneath the chainmail and helm that will eventually protect his head and face in the duel to come. "Lass, who'd y'see on the way here? I know there were two Weavers with the <<if $agab == "male">>lads<<else>>littl'uns<</if>> but didn't catch any faces..." "They looked like Arne and Otto, I think. Neither paid me much mind, though. I know why Arne didn't," she sneers distastefully for a moment, "but Otto's no reason to act like that. He's always been a deck-washer, though: probably just following his new master's orders." "Mayhaps the two were simply eager to return to their master." Archer suggests as they hand yet another bottle of //something// to Uncle Callen, one he cautiously drinks while making the same face you do when you need to take medicine. "Not everything is strictly about you." She shoots them an unamused look. "Were it that you heard the very words you speak, Archer." Surprisingly, both of them actually //laugh// after that exchange. Their relationship is an odd one; both hostile and friendly--albeit rarely.<</if>> [["What's a deck-washer?" You ask, curious.|Chap2Scene118a]] [["Arne was pretty..." You mutter.|Chap2Scene118b]] [["She was nice," you muse.|Chap2Scene118c]] [[You decide to add your own thoughts. "That Otto man didn't talk much."|Chap2Scene118d]]

Aunt Sonia stifles a laugh with her fist. "Uh, nothing, kid. It's a word I shouldn't have used." "What's so bad about washing things?" Sam questions. <<if $stubborn >50>>"I want to know. Why say it if you can't tell us what it means?" You make your case expertly, the stubbornness in your tone a match for her own--or so you hope.<<else>>"I want to know. Please?" You resort to a touch of begging in your tone, hoping it will tide her over.<</if>> She looks over at Uncle Callen, who matches her stare with one of his own, looking not one bit impressed with her. "Alright, then..." "This should be entertaining..." Archer mutters under their breath, all the while making strange motions with their fingers, the rings upon them sparking and flashing with the movements. Surely they're performing //some// kind of ritual for the duel, but you're not sure what. It is in Archer's nature to make snide comments while doing some incredibly difficult-looking magic, however. Uncle Callen attempts to explain what a 'deck-washer' is, mumblingly. "It's, well, someone who tries to do everythin' for everyone, no matter what it is. If y'were a deck-washer, ye'd eat yer own breeches if it meant curryin' favour with someone you wanted to impress." "That just sounds like being nice..." You murmur, underwhelmed with the meaning of this supposedly illicit word. "There's a difference, $callenChild," he speaks confidently now, his lesson-teaching voice in full gear, "in bein' a good person for the bare sake of it, an' servin' others because ye want somethin' from them." Sam interjects. "My pa used to complain about people who'd make friends with him just for free things. He never gave em' anything, though! Even my friends' parents." "That's a smart man, lad." Uncle Callen smiles at him. [[Next|Chap2Scene118a2]]

<<if $samRomance == 2>>Sam snaps his head to you, staring with wide eyes. His mouth is a quivering, thin line. "No, she wasn't!" The heat that rises to your cheeks is not at all welcome, and you look away from him to mumble a weak retort that only you hear.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>Sam looks at you for a moment, and snort-laughs. "Do you //liiike// her, $samNick?" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Shut up!" You laugh, pushing at him with your arm as he makes kissy noises, trying to get closer to you. If only he knew...<<else>>"Stop it!" You huff, pushing him away as he makes kissy noises. That idiot doesn't even know what he's talking about...<</if>><<elseif $samRomance == 0>>Sam looks at you, surprised, and snort-laughs. "Do you //liiike// her, $samNick?" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Shut up!" You laugh, pushing at him with your arm as he makes kissy noises, trying to get closer to you. He's so funny.<<else>>"Stop it!" You huff, pushing him away as he makes kissy noises. He doesn't know when to //stop//.<</if>><</if>> Uncle Callen laughs at your admission. "I'll be sure t'let her know that, should I see her!" <<if $volatile > 50>>"No, don't!" You yell, almost leaping out of the seat you've found yourself in.<<else>>You shoot him an alarmed look, almost leaping out of the seat you've found yourself in.<</if>> "Only jokin', $callenChild." He assures, nonetheless winking at Sam despite that. Aunt Sonia hums, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<</if>> "Vengard's in the South!" Sam babbles helpfully, smiling proudly at this information he knows. "Everyone at home called 'em daggerfolk--the Vengardians, I mean..." Uncle Callen grimaces at that word. It must mean something unkind, but you daren't ask. Sam speaks true, however. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, kid. It takes one hell of a fighting force to hold back Telfrin at the peak of its power, but they managed it in Mestiria." Aunt Sonia explains to the boy. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She adds with a scoff. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<</if>>

"Arne acts the proper sort most of the time, but I've never heard a bad word of her." Aunt Sonia admits, "She's probably heard every bad word of me, though..." She adds with a light snicker. "A book the size of all Phanol's histories could not contain the vulgarisms said of you, my dear." Archer makes a quick jab, but Aunt Sonia is quick to retort. "I aim to please." She responds, voice dripping with playful snark. "Can't have you bookish types out of a hobby, can we?" They nod in lieu of a proper response, conceding this little jibe-war to a now very proud looking Aunt Sonia. "Anyway," Aunt Sonia hums, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<</if>> "Vengard's in the South!" Sam babbles helpfully, smiling proudly at this information he knows. "Everyone at home called 'em daggerfolk--the Vengardians, I mean..." Uncle Callen grimaces at that word. It must mean something unkind, but you daren't ask. Sam speaks true, however. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, kid. It takes one hell of a fighting force to hold back Telfrin at the peak of its power, but they managed it in Mestiria." Aunt Sonia explains to the boy. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She adds with a scoff. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<</if>>

"He'd probably been told not to, $callenChild." Uncle Callen smiles patiently. "When a Grandmaster of the Order speaks, you grow a third ear to listen better." Aunt Sonia winks, and Sam giggles at that odd saying. <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Another indicator that your future at the Order will be far from perfect. The Bladeweavers are a strict lot, but you're still excited to join them one day. How //couldn't// you be?<<else>>Another indicator that your future at the Order will be far from perfect. How many signs will you be shown, even before your own induction? The sight of that dark, stout Citadel shall fill you with unease until you eventually step inside, you expect, and perhaps even beyond that.<</if>> "Anyway," Aunt Sonia hums, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't Arne Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't Arne Vengardian?"<</if>> "Vengard's in the South!" Sam babbles helpfully, smiling proudly at this information he knows. "Everyone at home called 'em daggerfolk--the Vengardians, I mean..." Uncle Callen grimaces at that word. It must mean something unkind, but you daren't ask. Sam speaks true, however. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, kid. It takes one hell of a fighting force to hold back Telfrin at the peak of its power, but they managed it in Mestiria." Aunt Sonia explains to the boy. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She adds with a scoff. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<</if>>

"More women with weapons is never a bad thing, in my eyes. I'd drink to it, were one in my hands." She smirkingly raises an imaginary glass, and Archer scoffs. "You would drink to anything." She points at them with a strong nod. "A woman from Vengard endin' up a Weaver, 'tis a rare thing..." Uncle Callen muses. "I could count on me fingers the amount of women from Vengard I've even //seen// holdin' a sword." Aunt Sonia shrugs. "It's a backwards place, Cal. Won't let women fight, won't let you marry who you wish. Makes sense they're falling apart." "You paint a thoroughly horrid picture of the place, Sonia." Archer chides, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Of all people, you ought to know that these things are all too often exaggerated by propaganda. In fact, I know many a Vengardian who seek reform. Progress may be slow to make its march, but their cause is //blissfully// unburdened by cynicism such as yours." She snorts at them, before laughing suddenly. "You know who I'd love a //proper gander// at, Arch?" She says, voice dripping with mischief, having ignored most of what they said. Their brown eyes narrow in warning. "If you dare..." She grins as widely as the scar on her cheek will allow. "Your m--" Uncle Callen interrupts her. "Lass, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>help me put this on, eh?" He says, glaring at her while nudging his head towards you, though his finger points at a breasplate--one of the final pieces of his shiny set of armour.<<else>>let me help ya put this on, eh?" He says, glaring at her while nudging his head towards you and, though he holds a breastplate--one of the final pieces of her shiny set of armour.<</if>> [[She rolls her eyes and relents, the insult going unsaid.|Chap2Scene120]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Soon Uncle Callen's breastplate is attached, and then the pauldrons and gorget, each and every piece polished to a blinding sheen even in this room's dim light. A mail coif is draped around his head and shoulders, shifting around with each slight movement he makes.<<else>>Soon Aunt Sonia's breastplate is attached, and then the pauldrons and gorget, each and every piece polished to a blinding sheen even in this room's dim light. A mail coif is draped around her head and shoulders, shifting around with each slight movement she makes.<</if>> A tabard, split down the middle with one half crimson and the other pit-black, is then draped over <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his armour, tied at the waist by a supple leather belt.<<else>>her armour, tied at the waist by a supple leather belt.<</if>> It is stitched with shimmering green thread. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Have to say I'm jealous, Cal." Aunt Sonia whistles as she looks over the complete thing. Uncle Callen tests his mobility, and looks quite surprised. The plates of the armour shift and fold over themselves with exacting precision, almost as if they were partly-fluid. This is a set that took a //very// long time to produce, and even longer to perfect.<<else>>"Lookin' fierce, lass." Uncle Callen laughs as he looks over the complete thing. Aunt Sonia looks down at her armoured body and giddily tests her mobility, ducking and dodging around everybody in the room. "I'll assume that I won't be able to keep this after the duel." She sighs, already knowing the answer. The plates of the armour shift and fold over themselves with exacting precision, almost as if they were partly-fliud, to follow her quick movements. You can barely even hear the movement of steel over steel. It's as if she's not wearing any armour at all. This is a set that took a //very// long time to produce, and even longer to perfect.<</if>> Archer takes the opportunity to point out different sections of the armour, explaining what enchantments are applied and what they'll do. "Here," they say, pointing at a few of the less-protected sections around the armour's joints, "are pressure-wards. They will burst if put under strain that would normally damage armour or cause injury. The duel will be three rounds of 'first break', so try not to actually damage any of the armour." They order, an unbecoming sternness in their voice. "It will make re-application of the wards more difficult and likely turn the fight into first blood instead, which I am sure nobody wants." <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>//You can't be too sure//, you think nervously. $mentorThey could be facing anybody out there. Sola is rich, and has influence on the world below. Any number of renowned fighters could be waiting in one of these rooms...<<else>>Whoever's waiting out there, they certainly don't want a first blood match with your <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia. She'd rip them to bits.<<else>>Uncle Callen. He'd probably have the duel over and done with before they can draw their weapon, and they'd be grateful for that fact.<</if>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Credit where it's due, Arch," Aunt Sonia rolls her shoulders with a conciliatory look, "you've done a damn good job on this. The last time I had protective wards on, it was like wading through butter." They smirk. "A rare compliment, thank you! But these are not battlefield-ready wards. They are cast under the assumption your opponent //isn't// actively trying to kill you, whoever they may be." Aunt Sonia snorts. "Let's hope it's not Lady Venne's husband, Cal. Remember him?" He looks unimpressed. "I remember havin' to take his nephew to squire for eight months as apology for //yer// behaviour, lass." She grimaces, looking quite silly under her layers of padding and mail. "I forgot about that part. Sorry."<<else>>"A bang-up job, Archie! I'm hardly feelin' the wards." Uncle Callen heartily claps the mage on the back, sending them lurching forward. They glance at him, annoyed, but begrudgingly accept his praise. "Remember when that mage from Skevven tried warding you, Cal? You could hardly move!" Aunt Sonia begins to laugh almost as soon as she recalls this memory, and Uncle Callen blushes slightly. "I don't need remindin', lass..." He sighs. "I've no clue what a healer was doin' in the armoury, but it wasn't bloody preparin' anybody for battle!" "My work is excellent, yes," Archer coughs into their hand, stopping this impromptu recollection, "but these are not battle-field ready wards. They are cast under the assumption your opponent //isn't// actively trying to kill you, whoever they may be." "Point taken, Archie." Uncle Callen nods at them gratefully. "I don't plan on gettin' hit, either way, so the mobility's much appreciated."<</if>> "Oh," Archer goes straight for a moment, remembering something, "there is something else." They stride over to a plain-looking chest, stowed in a shaded area of the room, and pick it up, hefting the thing on to the table in front of everybody. "Behold..." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Next|Chap2Scene121]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene122d]]<</if>>

"Now that's done with," Aunt Sonia announces, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't Arne Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't Arne Vengardian?"<</if>> "Vengard's in the South!" Sam babbles helpfully, smiling proudly at this information he knows. "Everyone at home called 'em daggerfolk--the Vengardians, I mean..." Uncle Callen grimaces at that word. It must mean something unkind, but you daren't ask, especially after he just explained one not-so-kind word to you. Sam speaks true, however. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, kid. It takes one hell of a fighting force to hold back Telfrin at the peak of its power, but they managed it in Mestiria." Aunt Sonia explains to the boy. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She adds with a scoff. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119]]<</if>>

"A monument to //excess//." They mutter dourly, unlatching the lid and throwing it open. Sam gasps, Uncle Callen groans piteously and Aunt Sonia seems to shout and laugh at the same time. With their crowding around the box's contents, you cannot see what is inside. "Callen, are we looking at the same thing?!" She hops around excitedly, as much as her <<if $mentor == "Callen">>sore leg will allow.<<else>>armour will allow.<</if>> "Unfortunately, lass," he sighs, "I think we are." "This is the best thing I've ever fucking seen." She reaches in to pull this mystery object out. "Language, Sonia." "I'm sure the kids are thinking it, too. Just //look at it//!" She responds, lifting the thing out of the box. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You have to put this on right now, Callen Edros, or I'll curse you until I've no tongue left to curse with."<<else>>"You have to help me put this on right now, Callen Edros, or I'll curse you until I've no tongue left to curse with."<</if>> Cradled in her hands is a steel helm, polished to a mirror shine. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>It is made in the form of Uncle Callen's personal sigil, the wolf. Styled as a greathelm, all harsh edges and strong silhouettes, it is embellished with wolven features. The top and bottom of the helmet form the beast's closed maw, with greyish-blue jewels serving as beady little eyes, fierce in their coldness. The front protrudes somewhat from the rest of the piece, forming a sharpened snout. The helmet's //actual// eye-holes seem to be hidden, placed tactically in a less-visible area of the metallic snout. Two ears, pointy and short, protrude from the rear of the helm, flattened as if the beast were constantly threatened. Aunt Sonia lifts the visor and it's as if the wolf's jaws open in a vicious snarl.<<else>>It is made in the form of her own personal sigil, the hawk. Styled as an armet helm, all smooth curves, it is embellished with birdlike features. Two wings spread from the sides of the helmet, arcing upwards to a point like two feathery horns. The visor is shaped to form the point of a beak, with two narrow slats to serve as eye-holes. Feathers are etched along the surface of the visor, inset with golden detailing. Aunt Sonia lifts the visor, and the pointy wings follow it. She moves it up and down a few times, delighting in the sturdy construction of the whole piece.<</if>> "This might be the greatest thing I've ever held in my hands." Aunt Sonia stares at the animalistic helm, unblinking. "No offense, $firstname." [["None taken." You mutter, voice full of awe. It looks incredible!|Chap2Scene122a]] <<link "<q>It looks so //silly//.</q> You snicker.">> <<goto Chap2Scene122b>> <</link>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[You give Uncle Callen a side-eye. "Do you really have to wear this?"|Chap2Scene122c]]<<else>>[[You give Aunt Sonia a side-eye. "You really want to wear this?"|Chap2Scene122c]]<</if>>

"Ye're both cracked..." Uncle Callen mutters to himself, head in hands. "You just don't know what taste is." She responds, matter-of-factly. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"This is wasted on you. Were it me going out there, I'd love to see what whoever made this would have done." She turns to Archer. "Think you could put me in cont--" "No." She stares at them. "I'll find out anyway." "I am sure you will, but I am not your servant." "You kill joy like a slaughterman." They consider her words for a moment, and half-nod. "//Your// joy." Uncle Callen coughs into his hand. "If the two of ye are done, shall I put the damnable thing on, eh?" Aunt Sonia looks excited again. "Gods, //yes//. I wish we had one of those portrait machines..." Archer hums. "I believe I have one of those in my quarters..." She scoffs. "And you didn't bring it?" They whisper in her ear, "//Your// joy..." Aunt Sonia nudges them out of the way to hand the helmet over to a displeased-looking Uncle Callen. He takes a further second to stare at it before spinning the thing around in his hands and quickly slipping it on over his coif. The visor is still open, revealing his rolling eyes, so Aunt Sonia slaps it down. He sluggishly lifts his hands from his hips for a moment before relaxing them, a tinny sound coming from where his gauntlets slap against the plates of the tassets, around his thighs. It's a motion that says, 'please don't look at me', though everybody still does. The light catches on the grey jewels every now and then, making the helmet look alive and blinking. It's uncanny. "Abrian folklore describes ancient wolf-men who would stalk the northern mountains," Archer paces around him, taking the odd glance at the full set of armour, "if they were anything like this, they must have been quite the sight to behold..." "That folklore isn't Abrian, actually." Aunt Sonia corrects them, and four pairs of eyes turn to look at her, surprised. "It comes from the mountainfolk that Abria conquered a few centuries back." When she notices everybody's looking at her, she puts on a confused expression. "What? I can read books too. You aren't special." She glances at Archer, who snorts. Sam pipes up, "Pa used to tell me not to go out after dark 'cause of them! Folk in our town called 'em Lykons." Archer smiles sympathetically. "A pity there are far worse things than wolf-men wandering the wilds, these days..." Uncle Callen's stern cough sounds dull, echoing from inside the lupine helmet.<<else>>"I'm glad it's me fighting today. At least I can //appreciate// excellent craftsmanship." "I'll not even imagine what they'd have me wearin' in yer place..." He mutters shiveringly. Aunt Sonia stares into the empty eyes of her helmet. "I can see it now: a big wolf's head, made of steel. Your sweaty little face inside, cursing the thing with every step you take. Ha! Now help me put this on." She switches tone quickly, staring Uncle Callen down until he has little choice but to oblige her. He stares at the helmet in his hands with utter disdain, while Aunt Sonia bows her head somewhat to make putting the thing on easier--not that it really matters with his height. When it's finally on and tightly strapped to the bottom of her chin, she spreads her arms wide as if to say, 'look at me, in all my bird-like glory'. You cannot lie to yourself, it is a fairly impressive sight. Aunt Sonia gleams in her armour, and the helm's eye slots are angled slightly downwards in a predatory fashion. "You bring to mind a shield-maid of the old Vengardian poems. They wore wings on their helms, too. Only, you don't fight in Belrom's name, thankfully." Archer paces around her, glancing at odd parts of the set of gleaming armour. "Is that a no-strings-attached compliment, Arch?" Aunt Sonia's voice sounds slightly booming and dull, echoing around in her avian helm. They shrug. "Quality is quality, and I do so love a mythical allusion..."<</if>> [[Archer reaches into the chest to pull something else out.|Chap2Scene123]]

"It //does//, $callenChild. Thank ye!" Uncle Callen nods agreeingly. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You didn't raise the kid with any taste, apparently, Cal." Aunt Sonia makes a face at you. "Were it me going out there, I'd love to see what whoever made this would have done." She turns to Archer. "Think you could put me in cont--" "No." She stares at them. "I'll find out anyway." "I am sure you will, but I am not your servant." "You kill joy like a slaughterman." They consider her words for a moment, and half-nod. "//Your// joy." Uncle Callen coughs into his hand. "If the two of ye are done, shall I put the damnable thing on, eh?" Aunt Sonia looks excited again. "Gods, //yes//. I wish we had one of those portrait machines..." Archer hums. "I believe I have one of those in my quarters at the Academy..." She scoffs. "And you didn't bring it?" They whisper in her ear, "//Your// joy..." Aunt Sonia nudges them out of the way to hand the helmet over to a displeased-looking Uncle Callen. He takes a further second to stare at it before spinning the thing around in his hands and quickly slipping it on over his coif. The visor is still open, revealing his rolling eyes, so Aunt Sonia slaps it down. He sluggishly lifts his hands from his hips for a moment before relaxing them, a tinny sound coming from where his gauntlets slap against the plates of the tassets, around his thighs. It's a motion that says, 'please don't look at me', though everybody still does. The light catches on the grey jewels every now and then, making the helmet look alive and blinking. It's uncanny. "Abrian folklore describes ancient wolf-men who would stalk the northern mountains," Archer paces around him, taking the odd glance at the full set of armour, "if they were anything like this, they must have been quite the sight to behold..." "That folklore isn't Abrian, actually." Aunt Sonia corrects them, and four pairs of eyes turn to look at her, surprised. "It comes from the mountainfolk that Abria conquered a few centuries back." When she notices everybody's looking at her, she puts on a confused expression. "What? I can read books too. You aren't special." She glances at Archer, who snorts. Sam pipes up, "Pa used to tell me not to go out after dark 'cause of them! Folk in our town called 'em Lykons." Archer smiles sympathetically. "A pity there are far worse things than wolf-men wandering the wilds, these days..." Uncle Callen's stern cough sounds dull, echoing from inside the lupine helmet.<<else>>"How did I manage to raise you without any taste, kid?" Aunt Sonia shakes her head morosely. "This is what the high life is about; stupid helmets and armour that'll tarnish the moment someone poor thinks about //looking// at it." "The $callenChild knows what's what, Sonia." Uncle Callen snickers, nodding at you softly. "I'm as glad as anythin' that it's not me goin' out there. Can ye //imagine// what they'd have me wearin?" Aunt Sonia stares into the empty eyes of her helmet. "I can see it now: a big wolf's head, made of steel. Your sweaty little face inside, cursing the thing with every step you take. Ha! Now help me put this on." She switches tone quickly, staring Uncle Callen down until he has little choice but to oblige her. He stares at the helmet in his hands with utter disdain, while Aunt Sonia bows her head somewhat to make putting the thing on easier--not that it really matters with his height. When it's finally on and tightly strapped to the bottom of her chin, she spreads her arms wide as if to say, 'look at me, in all my bird-like glory'. You cannot lie to yourself, it is a fairly impressive sight. Aunt Sonia gleams in her armour, and the helm's eye slots are angled slightly downwards in a predatory fashion. "You bring to mind a shield-maid of the old Vengardian poems. They wore wings on their helms, too. Only, you don't fight in Belrom's name, thankfully." Archer paces around her, glancing at odd parts of the set of gleaming armour. "Is that a no-strings-attached compliment, Arch?" Aunt Sonia's voice sounds slightly booming and dull, echoing around in her avian helm. They shrug. "Quality is quality, and I do so love a mythical allusion..."<</if>> [[Archer reaches into the chest to pull something else out.|Chap2Scene123]]

She looks positively flummoxed at your dismissal of this--apparently great--helmet. "Uh, //yes//?! Did I not raise you to have any taste, kid?" "The $callenChild knows what's what, Sonia." Uncle Callen snickers, nodding at you softly. "I'm as glad as anythin' that it's not me goin' out there. Can ye //imagine// what they'd have me wearin?" Aunt Sonia stares into the empty eyes of her helmet. "I can see it now: a big wolf's head, made of steel. Your sweaty little face inside, cursing the thing with every step you take. Ha! Now help me put this on." She switches tone quickly, staring Uncle Callen down until he has little choice but to oblige her. He stares at the helmet in his hands with utter disdain, while Aunt Sonia bows her head somewhat to make putting the thing on easier--not that it really matters with his height. When it's finally on and tightly strapped to the bottom of her chin, she spreads her arms wide as if to say, 'look at me, in all my bird-like glory'. You cannot lie to yourself, it is a fairly impressive sight. Aunt Sonia gleams in her armour, and the helm's eye slots are angled slightly downwards in a predatory fashion. "You bring to mind a shield-maid of the old Vengardian poems. They wore wings on their helms, too. Only, you don't fight in Belrom's name, thankfully." Archer paces around her, glancing at odd parts of the set of gleaming armour. "Is that a no-strings-attached compliment, Arch?" Aunt Sonia's voice sounds slightly booming and dull, echoing around in her avian helm. They shrug. "Quality is quality, and I do so love a mythical allusion..."<<else>>Uncle Callen frowns at his helmet. "We're of the same mind, $callenChild..." "Neither of you have a tasteful bone in your body." Aunt Sonia grumbles roughly, still appraising the helmet that is not hers. "Were it me going out there, I'd love to see what whoever made this would have done." She turns to Archer. "Think you could put me in cont--" "No." She stares at them. "I'll find out anyway." "I am sure you will, but I am not your servant." "You kill joy like a slaughterman." They consider her words for a moment, and half-nod. "//Your// joy." Uncle Callen coughs into his hand. "If the two of ye are done, shall I put the damnable thing on, eh?" Aunt Sonia looks excited again. "Gods, //yes//. I wish we had one of those portrait machines..." Archer hums. "I believe I have one of those in my quarters..." She scoffs. "And you didn't bring it?" They whisper in her ear, "//Your// joy..." Aunt Sonia nudges them out of the way to hand the helmet over to a displeased-looking Uncle Callen. He takes a further second to stare at it before spinning the thing around in his hands and quickly slipping it on over his coif. The visor is still open, revealing his rolling eyes, so Aunt Sonia slaps it down. He sluggishly lifts his hands from his hips for a moment before relaxing them, a tinny sound coming from where his gauntlets slap against the plates of the tassets, around his thighs. It's a motion that says, 'please don't look at me', though everybody still does. The light catches on the grey jewels every now and then, making the helmet look alive and blinking. It's uncanny. "Abrian folklore describes ancient wolf-men who would stalk the northern mountains," Archer paces around him, taking the odd glance at the full set of armour, "if they were anything like this, they must have been quite the sight to behold..." "That folklore isn't Abrian, actually." Aunt Sonia corrects them, and four pairs of eyes turn to look at her, surprised. "It comes from the mountainfolk that Abria conquered a few centuries back." When she notices everybody's looking at her, she puts on a confused expression. "What? I can read books too. You aren't special." She glances at Archer, who snorts. Sam pipes up, "Pa used to tell me not to go out after dark 'cause of them! Folk in our town called 'em Lykons." Archer smiles sympathetically. "A pity there are far worse things than wolf-men wandering the wilds, these days..." Uncle Callen's stern cough sounds dull, echoing from inside the lupine helmet.<</if>> [[Archer reaches into the chest to pull something else out.|Chap2Scene123]]

"A mantle for the duel was in order," Archer explains, pulling out a thick bundle of cloth from the box, "though some adjustments were made to fit your build and choice of animal." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Ye're callin' me fat, eh?" Uncle Callen chuckles, lifting the visor on his helm. "Let's see it, then. Nothin' can be so bad as this lump of metal on me head..."<<else>>"I'll hear no more about my //build//, thanks very much." Aunt Sonia grunts. "Now hurry up and unfold the thing, nothing can beat this." She says, knocking her helm with a fist.<</if>> Archer unfolds the cloth like a sheet, shaking it with a sound like to the evening winds you often hear when Sola falls silent and night begins to take over. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>The mantle is a slender cape, were it affixed to Uncle Callen's back it certainly wouldn't go over his shoulders, and short enough that it would never touch the ground unless he knelt. It looks light and flowy, made of silk and bearing the image of a running wolf across its surface.<<else>>The mantle is a slender cape, were it affixed to Aunt Sonia's back it certainly wouldn't go over her shoulders, and short enough that it would never touch the ground unless she knelt. It looks light and flowy, made of silk and bearing the image of a hawk in flight across its surface.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen appraises it with a more favourable look in his eyes than when he'd seen the helm. "Well, that's not half bad." He turns so Archer can affix the thing to some clasps on his pauldrons, and does a little spin to show it off. "Do I look like a princess, Archie?" He asks, dancing a little jig in all of his steel-plated glory<<else>>Aunt Sonia gives the thing a passing curiosity, but it's obvious she much prefers the helm. "Get it on me, then." She grunts, turning for Archer to clasp it to her pauldrons. She reaches behind her to grab the mantle, tugging it a few times to check its rigidity. "Should tear fairly easily if needs be ... very good." You can see the slight motion of her nodding from beneath the helmet.<</if>> Sam stares up at $mentorThem, his eyes awe-filled and sparkling. "You look like a proper knight, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Mister Callen." He smiles, proud of the compliment despite his misgivings about his appearance. "Well, I'm glad someone's enjoyin' all this--" He is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, startling all but Archer. "I forgot to mention that somebody would be coming soon. Apologies." They say, not looking particularly sorry at all.<<else>>Miss Sonia." "I'm more than a knight, little man." She laughs, striking a pose and flexing muscles that are hidden beneath shifting layers of ribbed plate. Her fun is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, startling all but Archer. "I forgot to mention that somebody would be coming soon. Apologies." They say, not looking particularly sorry at all.<</if>> "How do you know that?" You ask. They smile, a small and smug thing. "I did //indeed// place a hex upon the doorway, only further back so I could anticipate knocks such as that. It wouldn't do to have my work diminished by an unexpected jolt. And," they turn to Sam, who's about to say something incredulous, "it most certainly does not read one's thoughts. I was not lying when I told you that. Nobody's thoughts in this place are worth the effort." Sam's mouth hangs open for a moment before he drops in his seat, with nothing left to say before he'd even made a sound. [[Archer languidly strolls to the door, opening it.|Chap2Scene124]]

<div id = "header-text">Liskiya</div> Modern-day Liskiya (pronounced //Liss-key-a//) is a far-off network of minor island nations, gathered under one collective identity, that of the Liskiy. These islands sit at the northwest of a much greater landmass, comprising mostly of blasted desert and burned ruins. Few venture there and return sane. Most do not return at all. The climate of the island network is mostly warm, with snow-tipped mountains to the far north. Many of the islands are covered in thick, humid forest, with the odd town or city dotted between the trees. The southern coasts are wracked by storms and typhoons nearly year-round, making travel south difficult--not that anybody would wish to travel to the mainland, of course. Liskiy cities are built very different to Phanoli ones, looking more like a massive block of stone jutting out of the land, with the city itself lying within. In contrast to Phanol, the citizens of Liskiya are a majority Fallen, as there are no restrictions on births there, nor are they shirked by society. Rather, to be Fallen--or Skyborn, the closest translation from their term for it--is to be blessed, and a little piece of divinity rests within all who are Skyborn in Liskiya. Naturally, this has earned them a reputation as a heretical people everywhere else. Conversely, the people of Liskiya do not have a particularly favourable view of Phanol, for its persecution of their kind. Ancient records, few and far between, paint the place as having been mostly untouched by the warring Twelve, save for one. Once, the eastern mainland, a continent so massive it supposedly surpasses Phanol in size, was home to a vast array of cultures that spanned every corner. It was life in abundance. But no more.

<div id = "header-text">Phanol</div> Phanol (pronounced //phan-oll//) is an expansive, dagger-shaped continent stretching from the top of the world to the bottom, with high climate and cultural diversity. This land is steeped in ancient, rocky history, being the main staging ground for the ancient wars fought by many of the Twelve Gods. A large majority of the Risen Cities are situated within Phanol, ten of them in total float above its landmass or seas. Phanol is currently comprised of four primary nations: [[The Abrian Empire]] to the northeast, [[The Kingdom of Telfrin]] located mainly within the continent's central landmass, [[The Federation of Mestiria]] to the lower south and the [[People's Republic of Vengard]], which resides at the very bottom of the continent - the Dagger's point. The continent derives its nickname from its reputation--[[Debts]] are a harsh reality of Phanol, with those wishing for aid willing to Indebt themselves, via a magical ritual, to their benefactor who sets the terms of their pact. In turn, betrayal and warfare is rife in Phanol's history and only recently has there been any semblance of peace--an uneasy one at that. Phanol is a dangerous place, and you are far less likely to become a legend in its storied history than you are to end up buried in a ditch, forgotten to time.

You twist your neck around the back of your chair to get a look at whoever it is that's knocked. Looming over Archer, standing at least a head and a half taller than the mage, is a square-jawed man with thick sideburns and a hardy look. A scratchy-looking cloak is clasped around his left shoulder with a Master's pin, though it hangs far closer to his body than it should. You know the reason why: he is missing his left arm. Pointing straight up from behind his right shoulder is the curved blade of a glaive; more silver than green, but Empyrean nonetheless. The rest of him is hidden by dark, relatively plain clothing. His voice, when he finally speaks, is deep and strongly accented, similarly to Sam's own. Only, the boy couldn't speak this deep and rumbling if he tried his absolute hardest. "Archmage Ryburn," he says, confusion seeping into his detached tone. "Were you not assigned to a different task when these proceedings were first planned?" The mage steps back, letting him step in to the room slowly. "I had myself reassigned. Lightwork is not my specialty, nor particularly to my tastes." "Hmph." He grunts, before turning to look at Aunt Sonia, whereupon his expression becomes slightly less dour. "It has been a long while, Sonia. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>The armour becomes you well." Aunt Sonia bows as much as she's able to in the armour, which ends up as a slight nod of her head and torso. "That it has, Master Gwyndon. I'm of the opinion that everyone should be wearing this sort of thing." She speaks with a slight reverence in her tone, completely unlike her usual self.<<else>>I mislike the way you style your hair." Aunt Sonia bows deeply, though you can still spy an embarrassed blush forming on her cheeks. "That it has, Master Gwyndon. The change was hardly by choice, if you'd believe it." She speaks with a slight reverence in her tone, completely unlike her usual self.<</if>> Surprisingly, this Master Gwyndon smirks and bids her to rise. "We are equals, Master Wierszy, and equals do not bow to one another." [["Who's that?" Sam whispers.|Chap2Scene125]]

"My Aunt Sonia's old master." You whisper back. "He trained her when she first joined the Order." "I thought Mister Callen trained her?" You shake your head. "He recruited her, but Master Gwyndon //trained// her." He looks confused, despite your very clear answers. "But Gwyndon's an Abrian last name..." "Clever lad!" Uncle Callen interjects, clapping him on the back. "Thanks," Sam smiles, but looks focusedly at him, "but I still don't understand." "We lived in another Risen City, Florre, before comin' here, lad. That one's firmly in Imperial land, so there were lots of Abrian Weavers runnin' about. If I'm thinkin' right, Master Gwyndon transferred from there a year or two ago. The cold air hasn't done his mood any good, it seems!" He answers, laughing at his joke afterwards. You and Sam do not. "Huh. Alright!" Sam is now no longer whispering, immersed in this little conversation while Aunt Sonia and Archer speak with the big grumpy-looking man. The boy turns to you. "//You// aren't from Abria, though, $samNick. D'you know where you came from?" [["No, I don't have any idea." You shrug. Not knowing has never really bothered you. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene126a][$chap2From to 1, $volatile to $volatile - 1]] [["I wish I knew..." You murmur sadly. It's always been something you've wondered about.|Chap2Scene126b][$chap2From to 2]] [[You clam up. "No..." You murmur awkwardly, not wishing to talk or even think about it any more. (Cautious ++)|Chap2Scene126e][$chap2From to 3, $cautious to $cautious + 3]] [["No, so stop talking about it." You scowl. The topic has only ever made you angry, and you don't want to think about it any more. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene126c][$chap2From to 3, $volatile to $volatile + 1]] [[🌞- "No, so shut up with asking about it." You scowl, annoyed at his nonchalance in asking. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene126d][$chap2From to 4, $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1, $volatile to $volatile + 1]]

After a second, Sam jolts in his seat and addresses Uncle Callen. "Where are both of //you// from, then?" The older man smiles as if anticipating the question. "Me, I'm from a little place called Kerland, lad. Far to the west, it is. Sonia's from a town right on the northern border, Zimato." "Do you ever visit where you're from? I think I'd wanna do that one day..." Sam muses, looking somewhere far-off. Uncle Callen smiles pensively. "Not for a long while. Since the lass was a girl an' I was a thinner man." "Why not?" "Ah, lad," Uncle Callen sighs sadly, "life goes an' happens, is all." [[Aunt Sonia interrupts the conversation. "It's go time, you three. Stop babbling."|Chap2Scene128]]

The person you might have been--the $child from a place with customs and culture all its own--would be so far removed from who you are now that it hardly deserves much thought, in your view. You are who you are: the ward of Bladeweavers, raised in a place where cultures from the world over come to clash all at once. You're nothing and everything, and that suits you just fine. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia have made it abundantly clear that you'll make your own way one day, and do them proud. "Huh." Sam frowns slightly, not understanding your nonchalance. "I'd be a bit sad, not knowing where I'm from..." Were you more bothered about the topic, that might have hurt, but it doesn't. "I //do// know where I'm from, though: Sola." It's technically true. You were born here, in the city, according to your two guardians. He snickers. "Hey, that's right! I didn't think about it that way." "Precious few have the honour of bein' called a native Solan, lad." Uncle Callen speaks your praises. "Ye're speakin' to one in a million, here." He nudges you with his elbow cheekily. Sam bows his head. "I bow to you, <<if $agab == "female">>good lady of Sola.<<else>>good lord of Sola.<</if>>" It takes all of three seconds of this faux-reverence before he comes back up, giggling proper. [[Next|Chap2Scene127]]

It's often been a sad, small thought amidst all the other ones you have about yourself. Where are you from, really? What culture did your parents belong to, what did they //do//? Should you celebrate particular days, shy away from others? You don't know. Maybe one day you will. One day. "I'd be sad too, if I didn't know." Sam gives you a sympathetic smile. "I bet you'll find out one day. But, hey, you can //definitely// say you're Solan, right?" Uncle Callen chuckles his agreement. "Aye, lad! This one was born here, somethin' very few have the honour of claimin'." Sam grins, egged on by Uncle Callen's own positive spin on this dour circumstance. "See?! You're from Sola, $samNick. That means you can be //anything//." You look between them, these two beacons of mirth--one cheery and golden and one tall, dark and grey--and find it difficult to continue being so dour. Despite yourself you find a little smile creeping its way in, and relent. "Maybe you're //sort of// right..." Those sad little thoughts remain, though. You don't wish them to, but they do all the same. [[Next|Chap2Scene127]]

It hardly feels fair, living in a place such as Sola where cultures from all over get to blend and mix, creating something wholly new and unique. You just don't get to have that. There's no piece of yourself that you know, given from your parents. All of what you are was raised by Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia. You're more them than anybody else. You can only hope that one day you'll figure out just who you might have been. Sam's eyes go a little wider at the irritation in your tone, and Uncle Callen squeezes your forearm. "Let's keep yer lid on, $callenChild. The lad didn't know, did he?" You release a vexed breath from your nose and mutter, "No..." He looks patiently at you. "...And?" After a moment, you look at Sam. "I'm sorry." <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You sigh, slightly ashamed and feeling quite awful for snapping at him.<<else>>You murmur, really only because Uncle Callen would keep you here until you //did// say something.<</if>> Finally he smiles again, flashing you another of his toothy grins. "S'okay! I'm sorry for making you mad, too." You respond with a quiet nod. [[Next|Chap2Scene127]]

You //don't// want to think about this. Moreover, you don't want Sam to be the one making you think about it. The boy recoils slightly at your vitriol, and Uncle Callen frowningly interjects. "That's not the way to say it, $callenChild. I'd like ye to apologise." He half-orders sternly. You look at him, scorned. "But he--" "Now, $firstname." His voice is quiet as a whisper, but carries more authority than you've heard in any shout. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"...Sorry." You say, after a few moments of grudging silence.<<else>>"...//Sorry.//" You spit, after more than a few moments of grudging silence. //I hope you're happy now.// You think but do not say to Uncle Callen.<</if>> "Aye, that's better." He chuffs. Sam gives you a pensive smile. "S'okay, $firstname. I'm sorry for asking..." [[Next|Chap2Scene127]]

You //don't// want to think about this. It hardly feels fair, living in a place such as Sola where cultures from all over get to blend and mix, creating something wholly new and unique. You just don't get to have that. There's no piece of yourself that you know, given from your parents. All of what you are was raised by Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia. You're more them than anybody else. You can only hope that one day you'll figure out just who you might have been. Sam takes your silent suffering as encouragement to continue asking questions. "What's the matter? //Do// you know where you're from?" His eyes widen beyond what you'd expect. "//Is it a secret//?" He covers his mouth, looking warily at you in fear of this apparent secret. "Nothin' like that, lad." Uncle Callen comes to your rescue, giving you a reassuring smile. "$firstname just don't like talkin' about it much. Even me an' Sonia don't know the whole of it, but we're thankful the $callenChild's parents thought to leave $themInformal at our door." "Oh," Sam gives you a different, slightly apologetic look. "Sorry, $firstname. I didn't know..." [[Next|Chap2Scene127]]

"We'd best stand and greet the man before we're goin', $callenChild," Uncle Callen whispers to you, so you oblige, leaving Sam in his seat for the moment. You are familiar with this Master Gwyndon--he's the man who trained Aunt Sonia, so of course he's been mentioned often--but have never met him in person. Master Gwyndon speaks in hushed tones with Aunt Sonia, though his dark gaze flicks to you and Uncle Callen upon your approach. "I'm sure you remember Callen, right?" Aunt Sonia asks with a cheeky twinkle in her eye, looking between these two men who she--quite literally--looks up to. "I could scarcely forget." For the first time, a proper smile splits Master Gwyndon's harsh features, and he holds out a gloved hand which Uncle Callen firmly grasps with his own. "Master Edros, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>I commend you for your service today. Win or lose, know that the rank and file look upon you with a reverence reserved for a saint." "Well, that's good t'hear, but I had little choice in the matter," Uncle Callen chuckles sheepishly. Master Gwyndon nods seriously. "Of course. I was prepared to stand in your place, but the same thing that has kept me from the Grand Council kept me from this honour..." Uncle Callen sighs. "More gold than sense, they have ... I'm sure ye'll make it one day, Cadoch. I'll put in me best word, should I ever make the Council--whatever sway my word would have in Florre, after all these years, 'course." The other man nods in gratitude. "Should the day come, it would be most welcome, yes." Then, he looks at you. "Sun shine on you, $child. You'll scarcely remember me, hm?"<<else>>I offer my thanks for supporting Wierszy today. Though it comes as little surprise, given what you have done for her in the past." "//Don't mention the house...///" You hear Aunt Sonia mutter under her breath. "Aye, it's never been a burden. She's family, Cadoch." Uncle Callen smiles. "I'd figured she was from the beginnin', but she set it in stone once she moved in with me." Master Gwyndon quirks an eyebrow, glancing at Aunt Sonia. "She did?" Aunt Sonia interrupts, "Housing here is //hellish//, Master. I'm better served living with someone who can stand me." The sideburned man releases a seemingly-rare chuckle. "That must invite questions, given the presence of the $child." She grins, strained. "Anyone who suggests we're together like //that// never does so a second time, is all I'll say." You've seen that happen the odd time. It's never a pretty sight. Uncle Callen butts in, "Ah, speakin' of the $callenChild..." He turns Master Gwyndon to face you. The harsh-featured man bows his head towards you. "Sun shine on you, $child. You'll scarcely remember me, hm?"<</if>> [[You try to make the best impression you can on Master Gwyndon. (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene128f][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 1]] [[To be honest, you're quite intimidated by this man. Whoever made Aunt Sonia the way she is, has to be a terror in their own right. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene128a][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [["Hello, M-Master," you stammer. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene128c][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [["You've got no arm." You state, matter-of-factly.|Chap2Scene128d]] [["Where did your arm go?" You ask innocently.|Chap2Scene128e]]

<div id = "header-text">Soleile of Telfrin, Princess Under-the-Sun</div> Princess Soleile, born 1477, is the eldest child of King Thibau II, and designated heir to Telfrin's Stormwing Throne. Since the usurpation of the previous royal family a half-millennium ago, Telfrin has preferred a male heir, opting for a King's eldest brother or closest relative over a daughter--until a son is born, of course. However, as recent plagues decimated the populace of Telfrin, so too did they thin the golden grass of the royal family. Few of royal lineage remained, and with his wife supposedly unable to produce another child, Thibau was convinced to name his daughter the heir to the throne instead of a distant male relative--a move that shocked many, and angered many more. What a wonder it was, then, that only months after Soleile was named the heir at eight years of age, her brother was born. A boy named Marcelen who will not be King. <<if $currentChapter == 2>>The Princess is still a young girl not of marrying age, and faces betrothal opportunities from many lords of Telfrin's greatest houses. So far, all of these considerations have fallen apart, one way or another.<<else>><</if>>

After a short while of waiting (during which Sam declares his boredom eight times, in total<<if $patient > 50>>)<<else>>, with you almost matching him)<</if>> the crowds fill the stands proper. There must be at least 30,000 here. You're not sure if you even know 30 people! The place is abuzz with conversation, shouting and pure //sound//. All of a sudden, a voice speaks up, coming from everywhere all at once. Archer directs your attention to a ring of metal that seems to span the entire arena, thick and visibly buzzing. //A noise-maker//, they mouth. "''Welcome, all, to the Helaic Colosseum, for the Grand Exhibition of this most wondrous Festival of Light. Each and every one of you honour Sola with your presence today. May He shine upon you.''" With that, the blaring, grainy speech stops for a moment, just as the sound of trumpets replaces it. "''Many Lords, Ladies and otherwise faithfuls have joined us in tribute to the Sun God today,''" as the voice says this, those trumpets sound again, each one at a different stand as the voice announces their presence. //Now// there are people there, standing and waving as parts of the crowd make known their fealty, or their distaste. Many of these nobles, from families you've perhaps heard once in some old history book, certainly look the part for a Festival of Light, dressed in glittering gowns and robes, white and gold and perhaps adorned with a touch of their house's colours. The exception to this trend seems to be stood in one of the stands nearest to you, the one Archer pointed to with the owl banner. It's then that the announcer, well, announces their presence. "''And a very special welcome to House del Varro, represented by the good Lord Galen of Owl's Hollow, Royal warmaster, and his two youngest sons: Aldo and Lucas! In these uncertain times, it warms our hearts to know patrons of other Gods seek worship of all the Twelve. Be welcome, patrons of Zofin.''" Those trumpets blare out from that stand now, drawing the crowd's enraptured attention to the three that stand beneath the green owl. A man, glittering sabre stowed at his hip, gives a pensive wave to those around him, though a smile barely graces his olive-skinned face. He's dressed unlike anybody else, wearing a doublet so dark purple you mistake it for black at first, while the only golden detail on him is a brooch, pinned to the left breast of his doublet. It seems utterly out of place on this austere man. [[Next|Chap2Scene130]]

Your attention turns next to the boys that have appeared at his side, dressed darkly but not quite as sombre as this Lord Galen, one in purple and one in green--the colours of their house, you realise. Each of them has his dark hair and dusky-olive skin, though it's impossible to tell anything else about their appearance from here, such as the colour of their eyes. One boy stands somewhat taller than the other, waving happily to whomever he can. The other boy, however, simply scans the crowds slowly, stood straighter than you've ever seen any child stand. He must be the younger son, Lucas. You're too far to make out any proper facial expression from him, but can tell when his gaze turns downards. To you. For a moment, you're locked in a sort of staring contest with this lordling. House del Varro ... that's from the far west, isn't it? It //is// a Telfrini house, but Telfrin is a big country. Perhaps the custom in his homeland is different. That might explain why he won't stop staring at you. His father seems to take notice of where he's looking and, after a moment of stillness during which he glances at you, stoops to whisper something in his son's ear before turning away again. Was he talking about ... you? [[Custom or not, you don't like him staring. Give him your meanest scowl possible. Who cares if he's the son of some great Lord? (Volatile ++)|Chap2Scene131a][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $ch2Lucas to "scowl"]] [[Custom or not, you don't like him staring. Make a rude gesture. (Volatile ++, Cautious -)|Chap2Scene131b][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $cautious to $cautious - 1, $ch2Lucas to "rude"]] [[Look away first. It's unnerving. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene131c][$cautious to $cautious + 1, $ch2Lucas to "lookaway"]] [[Look away first. What does it matter? (Cold +)|Chap2Scene131d][$cold to $cold + 1, $ch2Lucas to "lookaway"]] [[He doesn't seem mean. Give him a wave! (Cold -)|Chap2Scene131e][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $ch2Lucas to "wave"]] [[Perhaps you can make this solemn-looking boy laugh. Make a silly face. (Sarcastic+, Cold -)|Chap2Scene131f][$cold to $cold - 1, $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 1, $ch2Lucas to "scowl"]] [[Hold his gaze. He seems interesting, and he's obviously interested in you. (Cautious -)|Chap2Scene131g][$cautious to $cautious - 1, $ch2Lucas to "stare"]] [[Hold his gaze, silently challenging him to look away first. (Cautious -, Stubborn ++ )|Chap2Scene131h][$cautious to $cautious - 1, $stubborn to $stubborn + 2, $ch2Lucas to "stare"]] [[There's just no other option. Stick your tongue out at him. (Sarcastic +, Cautious -)|Chap2Scene131i][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 1, $cautious to $cautious - 1, $ch2Lucas to "tongue"]]

It's a small satisfaction that you can spot the slight movement of his head, a backwards jolt that belies offence at the ferocity in your scowl. You're not entirely sure if he was even able to see from there, but if not then something in your stance must have disturbed him, because a few moments later his head whips away from you, looking elsewhere. "D'you know him?" Sam asks, poking your arm to further grasp your attention. "No?" You reply, amused. Do you seem the sort to make friends with random noble boys? "Looked like you didn't like him, is all..." He mutters, now slightly confused. You shrug. "Maybe I didn't." Sam falls back in his chair, sighing. "You're an oddcase, $samNick..." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia chuckles. "That's why we love $them, kid."<<else>>Uncle Callen smiles. "Aye, lad. But that's why we love $themInformal."<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>Sam's lips thin and he looks away, discomfited "I guess so..."<<else>>Sam snickers in agreement.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen clarifies, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>She clarifies, "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

You try to do it as sneakily as possible, raising your middle finger in a gesture you've seen Aunt Sonia do dozens of times, though she always tried to hide it before you. It doesn't work, because <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she notices almost immediately and snatches at your hand, covering the obscene gesture apparently before the boy can notice it. You look at her, startled, before turning to look back at him. He's already looking elsewhere, with his father glancing at you and whispering in his ear. "Let's not show our middle fingers to nobility, yeah, kid? You like having all ten of them, don't you?" She asks, folding the offending finger back down for you. You're not sure why it's such a horrible thing to do, but it //must// get results, if even Aunt Sonia doesn't want you doing it.<<else>>Uncle Callen notices almost immediately, hissing, "Stop that //now//, $callenChild!" You're startled by the harshness in his tone and hide your hands, glancing at him, chastised. When you look back at the staring boy, he's already turned his attention elsewhere.<</if>> You slump in your plush chair, disappointed that he likely didn't see. It'd serve him right for staring... Sam covers his mouth and giggles, kicking his legs under his chair. "That was //rude//, $samNick. D'you even know that boy?" Arms crossed tightly, you huff, "No." The boy falls back in his chair, sighing. "You're an oddcase, $samNick..." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia chuckles. "That's why we love $them, kid. When $they //isn't// making awful gestures at people who could see $them whipped."<<else>>Uncle Callen smiles. "Aye, lad. But that's why we love $themInformal, terrible manners an' all!"<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 2>>Sam's lips thin and he looks away, discomfited. "I guess so..."<<else>>Sam snickers, conceding his point.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen clarifies, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>She clarifies, "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

A pit of insecurity wells in your gut, and you have no outlet for it other than to look away quickly. Just knowing he was looking at you, may still be looking at you, unnerves you. Taking a tentative look back brings relief, as you find that he's no longer fixated on you. He's already looking elsewhere. "Who was that?" Sam asks, looking in concern at you. "Did I miss somethin' earlier?" "No," you sigh, somewhat embarrassed, "I just didn't like him looking..." He nods strongly in agreement. "Oh, I hate people staring at me, too! Where are you even supposed to //look//?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening--and apparently watching, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"At their noses, if you can't stand eye contact." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "And, for your first question, that's a noble boy called Lucas del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

You don't care for the scrutiny of this noble boy. It's not as if you'll see him again. You look pointedly away from him, opting to scan the crowds as the announcer goes on and on and on with listing yet more noble attendants. When you look back, curious to see if he's still looking, you find his attention has turned elsewhere. "Who was //that//?" Sam asks, looking in confusion at you, and then at the boy. "Just a stupid boy." You snort derisively. "Looked like you didn't like him, is all..." He mutters, now //more// confused. You shrug. "Maybe I didn't." Sam falls back in his chair, sighing. "You're an oddcase, $samNick..." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening--and apparently watching, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"Agreed." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "And, for your first question, that's a noble boy called Lucas del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

Your arm sways side-to-side eagerly, and you beam a smile that he probably can't see from where he is. For a moment it seems as if he isn't going to do anything other than just stare at you. Then, he slyly turns his head, apparently checking over his shoulder, and looks back at you. His hand, which had been resting on the railing of his family's booth, lifts and moves side-to-side, just barely. That must be what passes for a wave 'hello' in the del Varro family. With little else to do past that point, the boy apparently loses interest, looking away. "Aw, I was just about to wave at him!" Sam pouts, slumping in his chair. "D'you know that boy, $samNick?" He asks, immediately recovering from his disappointment. You shake your head. "No, I just wanted to say hello to him." He nods, "So you don't know him?" You shrug in response. "Nope!" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"I'd be pretty surprised if $they did." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

You hook your fingers under your eyelids, dragging your cheeks down while rolling your eyes back and grinning fiercely. It might make a younger child--or a more squeamish one--recoil, but once you can see again it's obvious from the way his shoulders jolt that you've made this solemn boy laugh, if only a bit. Success! Before this not-so-solemn boy can retaliate, as it seems he wishes to, his father places a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from you. You turn to find Sam watching the scene with a confused smile. "Who was that? D'you know him?" You snicker in response. "Nope!" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"I'd be pretty surprised if $they did." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

You tilt your head a bit, intrigued. The distant boy appears to do the same, and you stay like that, locked in a silent and faraway staring match, surrounded by cheers and jeers. The boy breaks first, though not by choice. His father seems to have noticed what's going on, and turns him away. When he never looks back, you feel a twinge of disappointment. "Who's that? D'you know him?" Sam asks once you look away, smiling confusedly. "I don't know him." You shrug, "We were just looking at one another." The boy falls back in his chair, sighing. "You're an oddcase, $samNick. I couldn't stare at someone that long! Where are you even supposed to look?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening--and apparently watching, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"At their noses, if you can't stand eye contact." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "And, for your first question, that's a noble boy called Lucas del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

You jut your chin out in a silent challenge, smirking. The distant boy probably can't see your expression, but keeps eye contact anyway. You stay like that for a long while, in a silent and faraway staring match, surrounded by cheers and jeers. The boy breaks first, though not by choice. His father seems to have noticed what's going on, and turns him away. He does not look back, and you pump your fist at having 'won', though it could've been earned a bit more fairly. "Who was that?" Sam asks once you turn away, smiling confusedly. "D'you know him?" You shrug, and respond, "Nope." "So why were you starin' at him like that?" You square your shoulders and smirk. "Because I wanted to win." He snorts. "So you were having a contest? I never win those, I //always// look away or blink first. Where are you even supposed to look?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening--and apparently watching, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"At their noses, if you can't stand eye contact." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "And, for your first question, that's a noble boy called Lucas del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

It's perhaps a bit brazen, but today is a day for fun, right? You may as well do //something// while waiting for the exhibition to actually start, and you're sure this boy won't care about a bit of silliness--highborn or not. Your concerns are assuaged when, upon realizing what you're doing, the boy's shoulders jolt as one's do when they chuckle unexpectedly. Your fun doesn't last, though, as when he looks about to copy you his father seems to notice what's going on, quickly glancing at you and placing a hand on his youngest son's shoulder. The boy is turned away, and doesn't look back. Sam taps your arm to get your attention. "Who was that?" he asks, smiling confusedly. You shrug your shoulders. "No idea." He snickers, "Seemed like you were friends, is all! D'you just go around makin' faces like that to everybody?" You snicker. It does seem fun... <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"To answer yer question, that was Lucas del Varro," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening, "thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132]]

Once all that tedious announcing is done with, the actual events start. You bear witness to all the staples of a great event: a joust (the winner of which is a rather plain-looking knight named Ser Grenwyc L'abaur, whom very few in the crowd appear particularly enthused about winning), a group melee, even a //horse race//, that kicks a massive amount of dust into the air. There are archery contests, wrestling, a foot race and even feats of gymnastics, with performers doing impossible amounts of spins in the air. Sam watches this with particularly rapt attention, otherwise seeming quite bored by all the combative events. [[You cheer and whoop during the combat events. It's amazing to see all these elite warriors in their prime, doing what they do best.|Chap2Scene133a]] <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>[[You'd be excited, but you instead sit in ancitipation of what's to come. The exhibitionary duel.|Chap2Scene133b]]<<else>>[[You enjoy these sorts of things, but you're here for the real event. The exhibitionary duel.|Chap2Scene133e]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>[[You aren't a fan of watching these sorts of things, which only serves to further disturb you as you sit in ancitipation of what's to come. The exhibitionary duel.|Chap2Scene133c]]<<else>>[[You aren't a fan of watching these sorts of things, and find yourself a little bit bored.|Chap2Scene133d]]<</if>>

You've been to a few events like this in the past, albeit smaller. Sola has plenty of smaller event grounds that can serve as tourney arenas in a pinch, and Aunt Sonia delights in visiting them--and occasionally participating under an alias. She won the last one you attended, perhaps a year and a half ago, under the name of 'Helia of Bumworth', a moniker that drew chuckles from the crowds. So, to be watching all of //this//, in its overwhelming splendour, is a real treat. You grin and grip the wooden railings tight when your favoured contestant, or contestants, seem close to victory, and bemoan their losses when they happen. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>Sam watches you with a pleased smile, happy for you if not completely enthralled by the exhibitions himself.<<else>><</if>> Your experience is only heightened when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your--and Sam's--requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, while Sam greedily chugs one cup of sickly-sweet fruit juice after another. "//Thirsty//," is all he pants between gulps. [[Next|Chap2Scene134]]

You've been to a few events like this in the past, albeit smaller. Sola has plenty of smaller event grounds that can serve as tourney arenas in a pinch, and Aunt Sonia delights in visiting them--and occasionally participating under an alias. She won the last one you attended, perhaps a year and a half ago, under the name of 'Helia of Bumworth', a moniker that drew chuckles from the crowds. But this is different. While the events here are like none you've seen before, with sections of the arena's floor shifting and clunking around to accommodate the differing sizes of each event, and each competitor adorned with the fanciest-looking armour you've ever seen, there's something //off//. If today goes badly it might taint your view of tourneys and arenas for a long time. You're nervous for <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen, despite knowing his prowess as a fighter. You've seen him fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<<else>>Aunt Sonia, despite knowing her prowess as a fighter. You've seen her fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<</if>> //They were just sparring matches. The real thing could go wrong, it could--// You find solace when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your--and Sam's--requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, while Sam greedily chugs one cup of sickly-sweet fruit juice after another. "//Thirsty//," is all he pants between gulps. [[Next|Chap2Scene134]]

You've never particularly enjoyed the other exhibitions and tourneys you've attended. Perhaps you're just not a very //martially-aligned// young $child, as Aunt Sonia likes to lament, or perhaps you're just bored by tourneys and the like. Maybe one day you'll get to compete in one, and have your mind changed. If today goes badly, though, you doubt you'll ever want to set foot in an arena again. You're nervous for <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen, despite knowing his prowess as a fighter. You've seen him fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<<else>>Aunt Sonia, despite knowing her prowess as a fighter. You've seen her fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<</if>> //They were just sparring matches. The real thing could go wrong, it could--// You find solace, and distraction, when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your--and Sam's--requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, while Sam greedily chugs one cup of sickly-sweet fruit juice after another. "//Thirsty//," is all he pants between gulps. [[Next|Chap2Scene134]]

The few events you've seen haven't been anything special, in your eyes. Perhaps you're just not a very //martially-aligned// young $child, as Aunt Sonia likes to lament, or perhaps you're just bored by tourneys and the like. Maybe one day you'll get to compete in one, and have your mind changed. As it is, you watch the proceedings with your chin in your hands, finding some solace in the food and drinks that are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your--and Sam's--requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, while Sam greedily chugs one cup of sickly-sweet fruit juice after another. "//Thirsty//," is all he pants between gulps. [[Next|Chap2Scene134]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Hearing Aunt Sonia mention wanting to 'cut loose' had you curious about just how good a fighter she is in a //real// fight. You have, of course, seen countless sparring matches between both of your mentors, but have rarely seen them duel others, and then only ever with training blades.<<else>>Uncle Callen is big, strong, and fast, deceptively so. Others have described him as a demon--the good kind, apparently--on the battlefield, whirling and dashing to-and-fro. You've been forever curious about just how good a fighter he is in a //real// fight. Naturally, you've seen countless sparring matches between both of your mentors, but have rarely seen them duel others, and then only ever with training blades.<</if>> You're full of anticipation for what's to come: the chance to see <<if $mentor == "Callen">>him at his best<<else>>her at her best<</if>>. Your experience is only heightened when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your--and Sam's--requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, while Sam greedily chugs one cup of sickly-sweet fruit juice after another. "//Thirsty//," is all he pants between gulps. [[Next|Chap2Scene134]]

When the last event is over, the crowd quiets after what feels like minutes of cheering and clapping. There is a sudden rustling of heavy cloth, and shadows dance over your faces. You snap your head upwards and stare, bewildered, at what's happening at the very top of the colosseum. Spreading inwards from the perimeter is a huge covering of thick, dark cloth. All-too-quickly you are blanketed in near-total darkness, with only the odd shaft of brilliant sunlight coming through tiny gaps in the impromptu ceiling. However, there is one //big// gap, right in the centre. It illuminates the arena's centre, with two somewhat-hidden trapdoors built into the ground. You feel the powerful vibration of the noise-maker around the inner edge of the arena before you hear the sound it makes, a deep rattle that reverberates through the floor and your chair, sending you slightly numb. ''For your thrill and excitement, please now bear witness to this most special of proceedings: a three-stage duel between an esteemed Master Bladeweaver, and a mystery opponent, who seeks to disparage the good name of Sola on this holy day.'' Cheers and boos sound out respectively for $mentorTermChild and this mystery opponent--who remains obscure even now, moments before the duel may happen. ''Now, please welcome Sola's champion on this blessed day: Master<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen Edros, the Argent Wolf,<<else>>Sonia Wierszy, the Hawk of Hangrot,<</if>> of the Bladeweavers' Order!'' The arena erupts into cheers. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🐺+ And so do you.|Chap2Scene135a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🦅+ And so do you.|Chap2Scene135a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You do not.|Chap2Scene135b]]

You cup your hands around your mouth and whoop $mentorTermChild's name, ringing loud and clear above everybody else. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Your Uncle Callen, armour-clad, with his mantle fluttering behind him like some great hero, rises from the now-open trapdoor, his back to you. His poleaxe is held steadfast in his right hand, like a battle standard. Somehow, he must hear you--or more likely, know where you are--because he turns his head and seems to look directly at you. You can almost see the grin he has on under that helmet at seeing you so excited. And then he turns back, almost unmoving.<<else>>Your Aunt Sonia, armour-clad, with her mantle fluttering behind her like some great heroine, rises from the now-open trapdoor, her back to you. Her sword is stowed safely in her scabbard, held in her left hand. She turns a few times, taking in the crowd's collective support before raising her scabbard in the air. She slowly, almost languidly, moves her other hand to grip the sword's hilt, before quickly ripping it from the sheath. The silver-green of the blade gleams in the concentrated sunlight, like a beacon in the dark. Somehow, she must hear you--or more likely, know where you are--because once she's clipped her scabbard to her hip, she somehow points the tip of the blade directly at you. It's not difficult to imagine her saying something ridiculous beneath that helmet, like 'this one's for you, $firstname,' and you giggle a bit despite yourself. All too soon, she turns back to face the other trapdoor, sword slung over her shoulder like a great weight.<</if>> Still the crowd //roars//, a sound that reverberates through the arena more than those big metal noise-makers had. Distant drums and horns play a militaristic, triumphant tune. 'The Weaver's March', it is unofficially known as, and it accompanies the Order's representatives at any event they attend. Looking around at the deep-shadowed crowd, shifting in support and admiration for just one Bladeweaver... [[It fills you with awe. If this is what being a Bladeweaver is, you want it.|Chap2Scene136a]] [[You feel put-off. Is this really what being a Bladeweaver is?|Chap2Scene136b]] [[Strangely, you feel disgusted. This can't be what being a Bladeweaver is.|Chap2Scene136c]]

<<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>You simply can't cheer this on, with how afraid you are of what will happen.<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">><<if $callenClose > 50>> You'll cheer when the fighting's done and he's won, of course.<<else>>You don't //want// to cheer him on, even now.<</if>><<else>><<if $soniaClose > 50>>You'll cheer when the fighting's done and she's won, of course.<<else>>You don't //want// to cheer her on, even now.<</if>><</if>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Your Uncle Callen, armour-clad, with his mantle fluttering behind him like some great hero, rises from the now-open trapdoor, his back to you. His poleaxe is held steadfast in his right hand, like a battle standard. Somehow, he must know where you are, because he turns his head and seems to look directly at you. You can almost see the grin he has on under that helmet at seeing you so excited. And then he turns back, almost unmoving.<<else>>Your Aunt Sonia, armour-clad, with her mantle fluttering behind her like some great heroine, rises from the now-open trapdoor, her back to you. Her sword is stowed safely in her scabbard, held in her left hand. She turns a few times, taking in the crowd's collective support before raising her scabbard in the air. She slowly, almost languidly, moves her other hand to grip the sword's hilt, before quickly ripping it from the sheath. The silver-green of the blade gleams in the concentrated sunlight, like a beacon in the dark. Somehow, she must know where you are--because once she's clipped her scabbard to her hip, she points the tip of the blade directly at you. It's not difficult to imagine her saying something ridiculous beneath that helmet, like 'this one's for you, $firstname,' and you giggle a bit despite yourself. All too soon, she turns back to face the other trapdoor, sword slung over her shoulder like a great weight.<</if>> Still the crowd //roars//, a sound that reverberates through the arena more than those big metal noise-makers had. Distant drums and horns play a militaristic, triumphant tune. 'The Weaver's March', it is unofficially known as, and it accompanies the Order's representatives at any event they attend. Looking around at the deep-shadowed crowd, shifting in support and admiration for just one Bladeweaver... [[It fills you with awe. If this is what being a Bladeweaver is, you want it.|Chap2Scene136a]] [[You feel put-off. Is this really what being a Bladeweaver is?|Chap2Scene136b]] [[Strangely, you feel disgusted. This can't be what being a Bladeweaver is.|Chap2Scene136c]]

With your thoughts on Sam out of the way, you head into your bedroom to wait. [[Next|Chap2Scene90]]

<<if $samRomance >= 1>>It just makes sense, somehow.<<else>>It would make sense, wouldn't it?<</if>> Mind made up, you turn on your heel and head back down the stairs, to a slightly-bewildered <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia. "Either I've had too much to drink and lost all my perception of time, or it hasn't been an hour," she laughs. "What's the matter?"<<else>>Uncle Callen. "Well, this is a surprise, $callenChild!" He chortles upon seeing you. "Ye've got time-bendin' abilities, I see, 'cause that certainly didn't feel an hour. Was there somethin' else ye needed?"<</if>> "I just thought--couldn't Sam come with us?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia takes a moment to respond, taking a deep breath in. "...If that's what you want." She mutters, giving you a smile that seems almost too enthusiastic to be real. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Yeah, it is." You nod strongly. Uncle Callen would say it is a lot to ask of her to watch you //and// Sam, who is by no means an obedient boy, but you can't pass up this opportunity!<<else>>"Is it okay?" You ask, making sure. Uncle Callen would say it is a lot to ask of her, to watch you //and// Sam, who is by no means an obedient boy, but you can't pass up this opportunity!<</if>> "Go and ask his father, first. Tell them we'll be leaving in about an hour, too." She waves you off, and you almost fail to catch her fingers crossing behind her back. You huff a quick laugh as you run outside and take the sharp right turn that ends with you standing before Alban's Articles.<<else>>"If his da's alright with it, then of course he can!" He smiles. "Can I--?" You point at where you assume Sam's front door to be with a thumb. "Go on. Oh, and tell 'em we'll be leavin' in about an hour!" He claps, and you jog outside, taking the right turn to make the very short walk to Alban's Articles, which is closed today for the festivities.<</if>> <<if $patient > 50>>You rap a quick, light knock on the door,<<else>>You hurriedly smack the door a few times,<</if>> knowing it to be locked when the shop is closed as it is today for the festivities. Willem, during a visit a few days ago, had mentioned he would be going to church during the festival. You hope he hasn't gone already, or taken Sam with him if he has. Your worries are dashed when the door opens with that now-familiar bell's jingle, and you come face-to-knee with Willem. Looking a little further up, you see him smiling down at you. He's dressed humbly for the festival in a flaxen-toned tunic, embellished with whitish gold around the collar and hems. "Good..." He begins uncertainly, pulling a small ticking thing out of a large pocket in his tunic, "afternoon, $firstname! Just about, though." He laughs jovially, returning the little contraption to its home. [["CanSamgotothefestivalwithusplease?!" You ask in a single breath. (Patient -)|Chap2Scene89a][$patient to $patient - 2]] [["Good afternoon, sir!" You belt out a polite, enthusiastic greeting. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene89b][$cold to $cold - 2]] [["Good afternoon, sir." You mumble a polite greeting. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene89c][$cold to $cold + 2]] [["What was that thing you looked at?" You ask, curious.|Chap2Scene89d]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with a yearning you've scarcely felt. You want this. The love, the thrill that comes with the role. You want everything that comes with being a Bladeweaver, and you will do your best to seek it.<<else>>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with a yearning you've scarcely felt. You ... want this. The love, the thrill that comes with the role. Despite your misgivings, you want everything that comes with being a Bladeweaver, and you will do your best to seek it.<</if>> "And so it begins..." Archer mutters, deathly-quiet against the clamour around you. "Who's $mentorThey fightin'?!" Sam grumbles, straining his neck to see as he leans over the railing. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I reckon it'll be a mystery right until they come out the floor, lad..." Uncle Callen grumbles.<<else>>"Your guess is as good as mine, kid." Aunt Sonia grumbles. "Mmm..." Sam hums, tapping his chin, "my pa?" She snorts midway through a sip of her drink, spraying the stuff into a fine mist. "I was wrong," she laughs.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene137][$bwOpinion to "like"]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with a strange disdain. You want to be a Bladeweaver, you really do, but not like this. You want to do good, to help people, but this pomp and pageantry feels disgusting, a betrayal of what you know the Order to be. Your mentors have worked and bled and fought to protect people, but they are made to wave for crowds and fight useless duels.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the dread you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You do not want to be a Bladeweaver. All this pomp and pageantry has turned your dislike into disgust. Your mentors have worked and bled and fought to protect people, but they are made to wave for crowds and fight useless duels.<<else>>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the unease you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You have no idea if you want to be a Bladeweaver. All this pomp and pageantry has turned your unease into disgust. Your mentors have worked and bled and fought to protect people, but they are made to wave for crowds and fight useless duels.<</if>> "And so it begins..." Archer mutters, deathly-quiet against the clamour around you. "Who's $mentorThey fightin'?!" Sam grumbles, straining his neck to see as he leans over the railing. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I reckon it'll be a mystery right until they come out the floor, lad..." Uncle Callen grumbles.<<else>>"Your guess is as good as mine, kid." Aunt Sonia grumbles. "Mmm..." Sam hums, tapping his chin, "my pa?" She snorts midway through a sip of her drink, spraying the stuff into a fine mist. "I was wrong," she laughs.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene137][$bwOpinion to "disgust"]]

''Now, all in attendance, bear witness to the second contestant in this duel for light. A leal hound of the Church of Death, servant to She-in-Shadow, Moro. The Corpus Aurus of house Baalor: Ser Malack Baalor.'' The bombastic tune of the Weaver's March stops abruptly. The crowd goes ... //quiet//. If this is who they were expecting to fight, it certainly doesn't seem that way. The other trapdoor opens, and a dark figure rises from it. A morose, sad tune begins to play from below, dozens and dozens of string instruments in perfect alignment. It's like a funeral march, one of a few processions for someone important you've spied moving through the street from your window. It makes you feel empty and satisfied all at once, like the feeling of grief put into song. Sam looks emptily at his feet, shoulders drawn tight. Your eyes, however, are locked on this Ser Malack. It's a difficult task, dressed as he is. In contrast to $mentorTermChild's gleaming, flowing plate, his armour is formed of jagged ribbed plates, enamelled black and so dark that his garb almost absorbs the light around him. He looks like a blowing torrent of black smoke, steadfast in the brilliance of the sunlight above. Affixed to his gauntlets, greaves, breastplate and helm, currently held at his side, are... You mutter your realization quietly. "Bones?" //Golden// bones, at that? <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"It's an old legend," Aunt Sonia whispers to you, "of the Baalor family. The greatest Baalor was a giant of a man, standing three heads above even the tallest. He'd make your Uncle Callen look like you. He served the Death Church fearlessly, fighting in every battle he could find, all in service of Moro, such was his fanaticism." She stares at the shadow-clad warrior with revulsion. "When he finally fell, laughing and screaming as they say, the bits of him that were left ended up coated in gold and put around that very armour. His descendants, if proven worthy, get to wear it."<<else>>"It's an old legend," Uncle Callen whispers to you, "of the Baalor family. The greatest Baalor was a right giant of a man, standin' three heads above even the tallest warriors. He would'a made me look a silly little fool. He served the Death Church fearlessly, fightin whatever fights he could, all in service of Moro, such was his urge to kill." He stares at the shadow-clad warrior with an unbecoming disgust. "When the bugger finally fell, laughin' and screamin', as the songs tell, his bones ended up coated in gold and forged into that very armour. His rotten ancestors compete for the honour of wearin' the damned thing."<</if>> "Or so they say." Archer laughs in assurance. "It is more likely that the bones are sculpted. A replication to fit a grim story." Even still, it makes for a grim sight. Pieces of golden jawbone line the armour's bevor, a piece of plate that protects the face, extending up from the chestplate. Chunks of skull are dotted around the helm, sockets lining the eyeholes in a display of morbid precision. The breastplate looks as if it was moulded underneath a bloated ribcage, shiny and gilt. The air is charged with nervous anticipation--yours included. [[Next|Chap2Scene138]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty. You want to be a Bladeweaver, you really do, but perhaps not like this. You want to do good, to help people, but this pomp and pageantry feels at odds with what you know the Order to be. Surely there are better things that $mentorTermChild could be doing than a duel for an audience?<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the dread you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You do not want to be a Bladeweaver. This only compounds your growing dread for one day being one. Surely there are better things that $mentorTermChild could be doing than a duel for an audience?<<else>>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the unease you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You have no idea if you want to be a Bladeweaver. This only compounds your growing uncertainty of one day being one. Surely there are better things that $mentorTermChild could be doing than a duel for an audience?<</if>> "And so it begins..." Archer mutters, deathly-quiet against the clamour around you. "Who's $mentorThey fightin'?!" Sam grumbles, straining his neck to see as he leans over the railing. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I reckon it'll be a mystery right until they come out the floor, lad..." Uncle Callen grumbles.<<else>>"Your guess is as good as mine, kid." Aunt Sonia grumbles. "Mmm..." Sam hums, tapping his chin, "my pa?" She snorts midway through a sip of her drink, spraying the stuff into a fine mist. "I was wrong," she laughs.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene137][$bwOpinion to "dislike"]]

''The duel will be fought in three rounds, according to the rules of 'first break'. Each duelist has had their armour charmed with a spell that will shatter, should a sufficiently lethal blow is struck. This will lose them the round. A competitor may also lose by disqualification, be it dishonourable conduct or otherwise, by yielding or by exiting the circle of sunlight provided. The competitors will now leave their blades where they stand, exchange words and shake hands to express their understanding of these terms.'' Ser Malack holds his weapon out at his side. You hadn't noticed it before, a wickedly thick polearm of Empyrean steel, the only colour on the thing being its lustrous blade. It's half spear, half sword. He plants the thing in the dirt blade-first, the //thud// it makes audible from afar.<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen plants his poleaxe in the ground with its bottom spike, gently.<<else>>Aunt Sonia twirls her falchion around, driving it into the packed dust like a butcher's knife, sticking out at an angle.<</if>> The two unarmed duelists walk towards one another, with Ser Malack's own mantle--tattered and ragged--fluttering behind him. In the shadowed area around where everybody's looking, you can spot faint shapes moving inwards from the recessed area beneath you. They look like guards, perhaps there to stop anything bad from happening. <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>You hope they're good at their job...<<else>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen looks to have flipped the visor on his helm up. What is he saying to this gold-daubed death knight?<<else>>Aunt Sonia looks to have flipped the visor on her helm up. What is she saying to this gold-daubed death knight?<</if>> [[Down below...|Chap2Scene139]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen hadn't expected his opponent to be somebody so ... controversial. Looking Malack Baalor in the eyes, he comes to understand why the family is avoided like the plague. His eyes are dark, and round, and piercing. Like a shark's eyes: predatory, with pupils stretched too wide for this much light around them. For a few seconds he does not even blink, and just holds eye contact with Callen in a petty contest. When he does finally relent his head tilts inquisitively, and his hair, short-clipped and black like pitch, rustles in a gentle wind. "Master Edros," he begins, voice smooth as glass and rough as sand at the same time. It is a low, droning intonation, one that could send someone to sleep, "I pictured you taller..." //He plays games then, eh?// Callen blinks at him. "The armour adds some width, 'm afraid. It'll not stop me from movin', ye can rest assured." Ser Malack's mouth must have twitched into a grin from behind his bevor, because deep-set wrinkles form around his shallow eyes. //For a man of thirty, he's an old-lookin' bugger...// "It has been an age since I last heard the Kerrish intonation. I imagine your mother tongue is beautifully spoken in it. Tell me, does your $child speak that way, too? The one in the stands to your back left, of course. It would be such a shame for the dialect to die out, though all things must..." On instinct, Callen's head flicks to the stands, where Sonia and $firstname must surely be. "How'd ye--" "I saw $them and the woman, wandering the halls <<if $chap2SamFair == "no">><<else>>with a boy<</if>> when the affairs were yet to begin. People tend not to look at me with the armour off, you see." Callen's shoulders are tense, harder than the steel that protects them. "It's a fool's game, talkin' of a man's family before a fight." "//Family//?" Ser Malack almost snickers in response, "Very well, call it what you will. All I hope is that we will treat them to a good showing today, yes? I would so hate for the paying attendees here to be let down at the very end of their festival." "Aye," Callen half-growls, "We'll give 'em somethin' to watch." "In truth, I have heard little to be afraid of from you as of late. I must admit my disappointment, knowing your capabilities, Edros. A sword left stowed for too long, I have found, will begin to rust." "Ye'll get a fair measure of my //capabilities// soon, Baalor. Now, ye'll shake my hand, an' ready yer blade." Ser Malack lifts his helm, held in one wide-splayed hand, to his head and slams it down, shrouding his face in immediate gold-touched darkness. A gauntleted hand adorned with shiny knucklebones sticks out, and Callen bitterly shakes it.<<else>>Sonia sizes her opponent up, unblinkingly. He's a few inches taller than her, made more hulking by the size of his armour and the bones that adorn it. She's heard tell of the Corpus Auri of House Baalor, once-in-a-generation warrior-priests who scour battlefields and take life indiscriminately. They're ... quite controversial, and Sonia had always wanted to fight one. His eyes are dark, and round, and piercing. Like a shark's eyes: predatory, pupils stretched too wide for this much light around them. For a few seconds he does not even blink, and just holds eye contact with her in some morbid contest. When he does finally relent his head tilts inquisitively, and his hair, short-clipped and black like pitch, rustles in a gentle wind. "It is as beautiful as I had hoped." Ser Malack drags a finger down over his bevor, where his left cheek would be, staring at Sonia's scar. His voice is as smooth as glass and rough as sand at the same time. It is a low, droning intonation, one that could send someone to sleep, "You are appraising me. Am I what you hoped for, Master Wierszy?" //So he likes to be in control...// Sonia's lip twitches. "If we're being candid, I was thinking I'd fight one of King Thibau's personal guard. Shade Naius was at the top of my list. Someone with less atrocities to his name, I suppose." "The mewling of cowards, talk of my 'atrocities'. It seems that the warring spirit has left the nations of this world, so I make do with //dregs//." "Innocent Fallen aren't dregs, Malack. What you do is--" He snorts. "You should know as well as anyone else that those monsters are //incapable// of innocence. Save your disgust for others, you have killed Fallen, same as I. It is so easy, in truth, no? The green splits them like rotted wood. I serve my dark lady well by culling their numbers." Sonia's scar itches, but she wills herself to ignore it. "You lot are more fucked in the head than I'd thought possible. Humbling you will be a treat." "And how much will you humble me, hm? In front of the conscientious Master Edros and your sweet $child. You'll make me bleed before your family? They are in the stands to your back left, no?" Sonia resists all urges to look at the stands, where Callen and $firstname must surely be. "Wouldn't be the first time I butchered someone deserving in front of him." Ser Malack hums, amused. "If you are wondering, as I am sure you are, I saw $them and Edros, wandering the halls <<if $chap2SamFair == "no">><<else>>with a boy<</if>> when the affairs were yet to begin. People tend not to look at me with the armour off, you see. A pity he is not down here, if we are being //candid//. Callen Edros is a name that She-in-Shadow would quite like to cross off her list." "You'll be wishing you'd fought him, soon enough." Sonia grunts, hand twitching at her side. "In truth, I have heard little to be afraid of from you as of late. I must admit my disappointment, knowing your capabilities, Wierszy. A sword left stowed for too long, I have found, will begin to rust." Sonia glares at him, eyes hard green pools of disgust. "You'll find me as sharp as ever, Ser. May the best take the day." With that, she thrusts her hand out, clasping his in a terse handshake.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene140]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>The two exchange words, for what feels like an hour. At one point, Uncle Callen turns towards you for a moment, before resuming their talk. Whatever they're saying, it can't be good.<<else>>The two exchange words, for what feels like an hour. Aunt Sonia is unmoving, rooted to the spot like a tree. Whatever they're saying, it can't be good.<</if>> It's all-too-sudden when their hands shake, and each of them swiftly turn to grab their respective weapon. They stare one another down in a duel of eyes, not blades. A trumpet blares as if from nowhere and, in this ring of sunlight, each duelist dashes towards the other, their Empyrean blades already mid-swing, cutting the air. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Next|Chap2Scene141Cal]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene141Son]]<</if>>

Callen rushes the death-knight with a low stab, aiming for a weakness in the joint where the ward will break easier. //He's too dangerous to try an' tire out//, he thinks, but Malack sidesteps with an overhead swing, one that Callen narrowly avoids by ducking into a roll, gruntingly jumping back up. Half of his mantle is wrapped around the younger fighter's blade, and he tilts his head at the shorn cloth, amused. "Lost your mantle this early, Edros? Mine is not so fragile. The first Baalor to die was wrapped in this cloth, and it has swaddled every Corpus Aurus since." "Aye, I don't much //care//." Callen responds, punctuating his words with a series of twirling stabs, keeping the majority of his blade in front of his body in a protective measure. When Malack dodges these, Callen steps back, breath hot in his helm and his unblinking gaze fixed on the other warrior's legs. They circle one another like predators, fighting for dominance. [[Next|Chap2Scene142Cal]]

Sonia hoists her blade into a stabbing position, drawn tight in front of her like a jouster's lance. A deft movement of her hands at the last second turns the offensive strike into a quick riposte, as Ser Malack makes a similar move. Their blades sing as the two Empyrean steel weapons scrape against one another, and each duelist dashes past the other. Sonia moves right into the attack once more, taking long sweeping chops, up and down, trying to negate Malack's superior reach. //Not giving you time to read me, fucker. Get fucked, fucker, you mother--// Her thoughts are completely focused on Malack, her only intention to get the fight done with quickly. She can't deny there's a personal touch to this now. He talked about Callen. About //$firstname//. If she can't kill him, she'll certainly humiliate him, at the very least. "You fight like a child who found a stick." Ser Malack laughs. "I had not thought your supposed wildness was a simple lack of //discipline//." He punctuates his final word by lunging forward with an unexpected stab. "Stop talking." She grunts, twisting her blade at the last second to block the spear's point against the flat of it. The force of the blow pushes her back some, and she twists to throw off Malack's leverage. She slings her blade over her shoulder again, circling Malack with a wide stance. [[Next|Chap2Scene142Son]]

The duel begins furiously, with Uncle Callen making the first strike. The gold-boned warrior dodges this strike easily, and even the next few pose no problem for him. He's much faster than he looks, and he only swings his weapon once--a deadly strike that miraculously only takes part of Uncle Callen's flowy cape. Ser Malack looks at the cloth on his spear for a moment before throwing it off with his hand, and then the two just //circle// the other, like some strange dance. This continues for ten whole minutes, with only the odd strike taking place that is either dodged or outright blocked. They are sizing one another up, getting a measure of the other's strengths and weaknesses in favour of trying to end the duel quickly. This is Uncle Callen's speciality, wearing an opponent down, but he is the older fighter here, and Ser Malack seems to adopt a similar tactic to fighting. When their blades clash, Malack's oversized spear blade and Uncle Callen's axe or hammer head, the sound is like nothing you've ever heard. A keening, ringing sound, like the loudest bell possible, makes you squint, before it happens again in quick succession as the two trade blows in a match of parries. Even then, nothing happens, as their blades lock and their legs push, Uncle Callen dips to throw Ser Malack back, who recovers quickly before the older man can use his advantage. Is he ... //slowing down//? This brings to mind a troubling thought that has been brewing lately. More and more you've seen Uncle Callen slow and make mistakes in his sparring matches with Aunt Sonia. They're only small issues, a misstep here, a weak block there, but they often cost him the fight against her. Where once they had been evenly matched in combat, you began to notice a disparity in their respective prowess during training sessions. Aunt Sonia was surpassing Uncle Callen, it was plain to see. She must have been getting better, with her extended time fighting down below. Even now, you can tell he's struggling against an opponent who might have been trivial in the past. [[Your fingers tighten against the wooden railing.|Chap2Scene143Cal]]

The culmination of your fears comes when Malack twists around a quick jab from Uncle Callen, letting his spear spin with him. The strike hits him squarely in the back, with a flash of light and a sound like glass smashing. Uncle Callen is sent flying forward at least six feet, clattering to the dust and struggling to stand. The crowd gasps, and Aunt Sonia whacks the railing with her hands in frustration. "//Twelve damn it...//" she spits. "Arch, do you need to--" They respond with a shake of the head. "The wardwork is done, there is a mage ready to repair the damaged area." She huffs. "Alright." ''The first round goes to Ser Malack Baalor. Result: ward-break. The competitors will now reset, with the loser's ward requiring maintenance.'' Uncle Callen rises slowly, brushing past Ser Malack as he ambles over to the hidden section, directly beneath where you sit. "Cal!" Aunt Sonia shouts, just before he disappears beneath you. Thankfully, it gets his attention, and he lifts his visor to look up. They lock eyes for a second, before Aunt Sonia yells, "If your blade's failing you, use your hands. Throw the fucker out, it's in the rules! He's probably a weedy bastard underneath all that plate." Uncle Callen's armoured shoulders shake with a chuckle, and his nod flips the visor back down as he heads in. [[Next|Chap2Scene144Cal]]

The second round begins slower than the first. Instead of an instant rush, the death-knight jumps back, thrusting his spear forward at the same time to clear distance. Callen doesn't move at all, in part due to the slight ache in his ribs. That was a hard fall, and one he should have anticipated. Callen takes a breath and reassesses his tactics. With Ser Malack fighting at range, he'll have to adjust. He grunts and grips his poleaxe tight, with one hand at either end of the handle, and shuffles towards him in a zig-zag motion, unpredictable and stilted. Just as the oversized spearhead sails towards him, the older warrior bats it out of the way with the hammer of his weapon, dodging to Ser Malack's left--he'd spied how the man favoured his right in the first round. He drives the bottom spike of his poleaxe into Ser Malack's ribcage-lined breastplate, awaiting the flash of light indicative of the ward breaking, but grunts in frustration when nothing happens. The gold dents a little from the force of his strike, but nothing else. "Not quite powerful enough, I'm afraid," Malack laughs as he forces Callen to retreat with a wide, sweeping swing, "you are //not// living up to your legend, Edros!" "Oh, bugger it..." Callen mutters, closing in again before throwing his axe to the ground and prepares to reveal his true intentions. As the men have fought, he's been carefully manoeuvring the both of them to the light's edge. All he needs to do now is throw him, just throw him, or else Malack will surely take this round against an idiotic fighter with no weapon, and win the whole thing. His opponent realises his gambit all too late as he attempts to step out of Callen's way. The older warrior grabs the shaft of his weapon, attempting to twist it despite the impossible strength of its Empyrean nature, and hooks his leg behind his opponent's armoured ankle. "'Ave yerself a lovely trip, brother!" He bellows, before shoving with all the power his shoulders and legs will provide. [[It works.|Chap2Scene145Cal]]

Cheers break out, and Uncle Callen takes a moment to bathe in the crowds' love, raising his arms. He's said before that doesn't care for any of this, but you know he won't turn down a chance to invigorate a crowd. He retrieves his poleaxe by kicking it into the air, spinning it expertly between his two hands, before striding triumphantlty back to his starting point. Aunt Sonia celebrates so hard she loses most of her drink, but finishes it anyway. "//That's// what I'm talking about!" <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Sam laughs gleefully. "He threw 'im like a sack of potatoes, $firstname!"<<else>>Archer smiles, relieved. "The man ought to be a wrestler, not a Weaver..."<</if>> <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>You huff a shaky breath. That was close.<<else>>You huff a happy breath. That was close.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene146Cal]]

"You might have thought that was a dirty move," Ser Malack calls out as he returns to his own spot, bashing his slightly dusty spear on the ground, "but I will show you 'dirty', Bladeweaver." Callen holds his tongue, limbs hot with adrenaline. This will be the deciding round; winner takes all. The signalling horn blares as soon as they're back in their positions, and the crowd is roaring once more. Now angered, Ser Malack foregoes any care in his approach, snarling while sprinting with the heavy thud of boots on dirt. Their weapons clash, again and again... [[Next|Chap2Scene147Cal]]

The third round of the duel is nail-biting in its speed, the two duelists becoming little more than flashes of silver-green as they dodge and weave around one another. Their blades elicit an undulating squeal as they lock again and again in a back-and-forth battle for leverage. You're certain you even see some sparks fall. Their flurry kicks up a thin cloud of dust, making the whole thing look like some sort of exaggerated puppet show: a pantomine of stabs and swipes, punches and shoves. They're fighting like //animals//. Having thrown away any semblance of sportsmanlike respression of their skills, Ser Malack and Uncle Callen are trying their damndest to just win. Like you, Aunt Sonia is stood with her hands tightly wrapped around the wooden railing, making an uncomfortable creaking sound as she twists them around and around. Her head is bowed, watching the duel unblinkingly. She looks like she's trying to direct Uncle Callen with her very mind. "Come on, Callen," she mutters with focused eyes. "Get him done with..." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>You're certain Sam hasn't taken a breath in the last minute, watching with wide, shining eyes. It's hard to tell if he's enthralled by the vicious fighting or disturbed by it.<<else>>You are similarly engaged, flinching with every strike.<</if>> When the two finally part, both warriors look to be panting from extertion, their plated shoulders rising and falling in a staccato rhythm. A chill runs down your neck, right through your arms. This will be it. What happens next decides the duel, you realise. Neither of them are in a condition to keep up a melee like that again. Uncle Callen shakes his head and shoulders roughly, steadying his weapon in his arms as a silent challenge to the knight. Ser Malack smacks his blade against the dust, and charges. [[Next|Chap2Scene148Cal]]

Were Callen a younger, healthier man, he'd be cackling with battle-lust, damnable little fool he was. As it is, he can tell his face is pallid and lily-white with stress, his nose is running and his ears //hurt// from the continued stress of their Empyrean blades striking at high speeds. //Only one last time, boys. Please don't have me goin' deaf, eh?// He keeps the head of his poleaxe close to his body, swinging the thing around like he's a performer at a party and not a seasoned duelist, until he unexpectedly lets go of the weapon's shaft for a moment, letting it fly from his hands until he grabs it again, continuing the arc of his swing with a much greater range of effect. This catches the fast-approaching Malack off-guard, exactly as he wanted, who raises his blade in defense. It was the wrong move. The hammerhead strikes the flat of his blade with such speed that Callen actually sees a flash of light burst out from the impact. There is an immediate pressure in his ears, and then a constant ringing. Both fighters are thrown to the ground, and Callen hopes against hope that Malack was thrown out of the light. [[Next|Chap2Scene149Cal]]

When Uncle Callen's hammer strikes Ser Malack's spear, there's a flash of light and a sound like thunder--it's as if the small circle of light they fight in was suddenly struck by a terrible bolt of lightning. A ring of dust is pushed away from them, as a shockwave knocks the two men off their feet. Silence. A half-second later your ears find themselves covered by hands that aren't yours. You look up to find Aunt Sonia grimacing in pain as what must be a terribly loud ringing assaults her ears. You must have been too focused on the fight to hear her warning. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>You glance to her side, and see Sam covering his own ears, squinting at the sound that must leak through his tightly-clasped hands.<<else>>You glance over at Archer, and notice that their earrings are //glowing//, and they haven't even covered their ears. They look quite smug about the whole thing, moving their ears up and down cheekily when they notice you staring.<</if>> A quick look at the nearby crowds tells you this clash was far louder than any of the others, with even the highest groups of people shifting as they recoil at the sound. "Hells, that hurt." Aunt Sonia grunts once she's taken her hands off your ears. "Never say I didn't at least protect your hearing, kid," she breathes. [[You turn your attention back to the duel quickly.|Chap2Scene150Cal]]

Ser Malack recovers quicker than Uncle Callen does, and is already running at the older man by the time he's back on his feet. A gasp hitches in your throat as they collide, Uncle Callen being knocked to the ground again. Thankfully, he recovers quicker this time, rolling to his feet while stabbing upwards with the speartip of his axe. Ser Malack parries it with ease, ducking beneath a desperate swing and, as if slowed to a crawl, drives his spear into Uncle Callen's breastplate. The sight of light has never been more dismaying. But Ser Malack does not stop there. With the ward broken and Uncle Callen knocked off-balance by it, the black-clad knight //continues// his approach. All you hear in that moment is the confused roar of the crowd, and Aunt Sonia's disbelieving gasp; a juvenile, angry sound. Every part of you prays, prays to anything that's listening, for Uncle Callen to realise and //stop// him, because he isn't stopping. He isn't stopping, and then the spear is driven, once more, into his breastplate. This time there is no flash of light, no shockwave, no sign that he's unharmed. The spearhead punctures him like a straw doll. [[Chaos erupts.|Chap2Scene151Cal]]

Your face goes cold, and your knees buckle. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Sam, in all of his own confusion, still manages to notice and grabs your arm, staring at you with a mix of emotion. Pity, fear, and more are mixed in, as he struggles with finding something to say.<<else>>Archer rushes out of their seat to steady you, struggling to find anything to say.<</if>> Aunt Sonia pushes off the railing quickly, shoving past a shocked Archer. //''"BRING ME A SWORD!"''// Is all you hear her yell as she throws the door open. The crowd is in hysterics, yelling and screams erupting throughout as Ser Malack drops his now-bloodied spear and tosses it to the ground, throwing his hands up in surrender as those hidden guards approach him warily, holding weapons of their own. Uncle Callen writhes on the floor, hands clasped over the rip in his armour. [[You need to get to him. Follow Aunt Sonia.|Chap2Scene152Cala]] [[You should stay here.|Chap2Scene152Calb]]

"$firstname--!" Archer grabs you as you make to leave, placing their hands on your shoulders. "You must stay //here//. It is not safe down there, do you understand?" <<if $volatile > 50>>You roughly throw their hands off you. "I'm going! You can't stop me!" You yell, before ducking beneath their arm and take off, just as Aunt Sonia did.<<else>>You grab their hands, fixing them with an earnest stare. "//Please//." You whimper, and to your surprise, they let go. You take off, just as Aunt Sonia did.<</if>> Furious yelling echoes through the dark halls of the colosseum's interior, guiding you to her. "A sword!" She half-screams at the nearest servant, who shrinks before her. "I don't give twelve //shits// if it's Empyrean, I'll drop it on his fucking head!" "Sonia!" Archer calls out from behind you, causing her to look over her shoulder for a moment. "Please do not go out there, you are //not// in a condition to--" "He knew full well what he was doing," she snarls. As she stops speaking, she finally catches notice of you, and her eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but then she blinks the recognition away. //"I'll have his hands for this,"// she growls, turning on her heel and rushing forward as quickly as her injured leg will allow. The murderous conviction in her words shocks Archer into a stunned silence, and they follow like a scolded child, with you at their side. [[Next|Chap2Scene153Cal]]

The cloth covering the roof of the arena is being retracted as you exit onto the grounds, and you squint as an abundance of sunlight suddenly fills the space. Aunt Sonia dashes ahead to Uncle Callen, who is now surrounded by all sorts of people; oddly-dressed mages, healers, and the odd Bladeweaver. Master Gwyndon, who must have been in the lower section, watching--stands to speak to her. "Sonia, stay //calm//--" "Where in the twelve hells //is he//?!" She growls, eyeing Uncle Callen's discarded poleaxe on the ground, half-limping towards it. "He is being escorted off-grounds. Rest assured, his punishment will be swift and equal to his crime here," the sideburned Master grumbles, voice thick with restrained anger. "Not good enough," she rasps, stooping to grab Uncle Callen's weapon, grunting with exterion as it does not yield to her hand as it does his. Even still, she drags it behind her, spotting where the warrior is being escorted away by guards. It takes the collective effort of five men to restrain her, and she lets out a rageful yell when she is forced to give up. You're locked on to Uncle Callen, writhing on the ground like some ... //creature//. You've seen dying rats before, and the way their legs twitched while the light left their eyes is all you can think of when you look at him. Blood leaks out of the tear in his armour, and his helm has been thrown off. His eyes are half-closed, and he looks sweaty, breathing in great wet gasps. "Uncle Ca--" Your breath hitches in your throat, as a hot flush licks its way down your spine. Your vision flashes with images of the seat you had sat in, as vivid as if you were still sitting in it. Something beckons you to <span id = "invader-text">look, do not look away,</span> and so you do, head whipping around to stare at the place you had just been. Your already-thrumming heart drops like a stone when you find it occupied by something ... <span id = "invader-text">terrifying.</span> The white figure sits in your chair--the very same one you saw only in murky reflections weeks ago. Your throat seizes, and you're rooted to the spot, even as Uncle Callen is carried past on a cloth stretcher and Aunt Sonia urges you to come with her. The words she speaks are inaudible. They are words above the water, and you are drowning. The thing's bleached appearance, upon closer inspection, looks to be //armour//, paper-white and warped in impossible ways, with inky dribbles leaking from its sparse joints. It reminds you of paper-art, where the delicate stuff would form intricate folds and shapes. It's draped in a matted fur cloak, of mottled maroon and coal-black. The thing slowly tilts its head, concealed by a featureless helm pointed like a crow's beak, and you blink on impulse. When your eyes flit open, it is gone, and you are yourself once more. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, and your vision is full of the afterimage of a pale red moon. [[And the image of Uncle Callen's limp form in the stretcher, pale and still.|Chap2Scene155b]]

"Stay here, //please//," Archer pleads with you as they quickly stand, running out of the door to find Aunt Sonia. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>You stand in shocked silence, barely aware of Sam's presence. "Hey," he mutters weakly, voice cracking, "he'll be alright. They got a whole lot of healers here, right? Nothin's gonna happen to him, $firstname." He moves further into your field of vision as he speaks, speaking words of comfort and assurance. [[🌞- You spit. "What do you know?!"|Chap2Scene153.5a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]] [["I know," you rasp, voice weak with fear.|Chap2Scene153.5b]] <<if $samRomance == 0>>[[🌞❤️+ This display from Sam, this pure, unfettered support, makes you see him in a different light. Something blooms, deep in your tattered, fearful heart. A fondness, with Sam at its very centre. "I know," you rasp.|Chap2Scene153.5b][$samRomance to 1, $ch2SamCrushMoment to 3]]<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞❤️+ This display from Sam, this pure, unfettered support, seems to bring the two of you closer than you have been before. Something has shifted, and both of you understand that. "I know," you rasp.|Chap2Scene153.5b][$samRomance to 2]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>><<else>>You stand in shocked silence, alone with your own thoughts. It feels cold, but you know it isn't. [[At this very moment, all you can think of is doing exactly what Ser Malack did, back to him. It's an ugly thought, one you should not have.|Chap2MRevenge][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]] [[You can do nothing but look on, desperately.|Chap2Watch][$ch2MalackRevenge to "no"]]<</if>>

He stammers, "I--I just..." "Just stop it." You groan, still staring at the scene below. "Stop trying to make it better." Sam slumps in his chair, wringing his hands furiously, and you turn your attention back to what matters; the scene below you. You spot Aunt Sonia running, with Archer at her side, to where Uncle Callen lays on the dirt, still shifting around uncomfortably. He is surrounded by all sorts of people, oddly-dressed mages, healers, and the odd Bladeweaver. Ser Malack is already being escorted away, and it takes five men to stop Aunt Sonia from rushing him down with Uncle Callen's poleaxe, dragged behind her like a heavy boulder. [[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a]]

Sam rubs your back softly, and just watches the scene below with you. You spot Aunt Sonia running, with Archer at her side, to where Uncle Callen lays on the dirt, still shifting around uncomfortably. He is surrounded by all sorts of people, oddly-dressed mages, healers, and the odd Bladeweaver. Ser Malack is already being escorted away, and it takes five men to stop Aunt Sonia from rushing him down with Uncle Callen's poleaxe, dragged behind her like a heavy boulder. [[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a]]

In the dust, standing behind everybody else, is something ... <span id = "invader-text">terrifying.</span> Your already-thrumming heart drops like a stone. The white figure stands amidst the gathered crowd below--the very same one you saw only in murky reflections weeks ago. Your throat seizes, and you're frozen to the spot, even as Uncle Callen is carried away on a cloth stretcher and Sam mutters words you cannot hear. They are words above the water, and you are drowning. The thing's bleached appearance, upon closer inspection, looks to be //armour//, paper-white and warped in impossible ways, with inky dribbles leaking from its tight joints. It reminds you of paper-art, where the delicate stuff would form intricate folds and shapes. It's draped in a matted fur cloak, of mottled maroon and coal-black. The thing slowly tilts its head, concealed by a featureless helm pointed like a crow's beak, and you blink on impulse. When your eyes flit open, it is gone, and you are yourself once more. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, and your vision is full of the afterimage of a pale red moon. [[The last thing you see is Uncle Callen's limp form in the stretcher, pale and still.|Chap2Scene155]]

The duel begins quickly, with Aunt Sonia making the expected first strike. The gold-boned warrior parries this strike, and for a moment it looks like their blades are locked, before they part with an audible scrape. Ser Malack is a lot faster than he looks, having kept up with Aunt Sonia's deft strike with no issues. Aunt Sonia, seemingly impatient, swings her falchion a dozen times while approaching him, looking as if she wants to chop him into tiny pieces. It seems to achieve a different result, getting him on the backfoot, if only barely. It's out of nowhere when Ser Malack moves to stab her with the spear, and Aunt Sonia has fractions of a second to spare when she twists her sword to expertly block it. The impact sounds like a rock being dropped next to you, and Sam flinches. Next, the two begin to circle one another, with Aunt Sonia making the occasional feint while sizing Ser Malack up. This is where she's at a disadvantage, you're aware. Her preferred method is to win a duel early and quick, as she simply doesn't have the stamina to last through an extended duel with how she fights. When their blades eventually clash again, Malack's oversized spear blade and Aunt Sonia's curved falchion's edge make a sound like nothing you've ever heard. A keening, ringing sound, like the loudest bell possible, makes you squint, before it happens again in quick succession as the two trade blows in a match of parries. Even then, nothing happens until, as their blades lock and their legs push, Aunt Sonia shifts her weight to send Ser Malack off-balance, using his superior strength against him. She can't use the opportunity to her advantage, though, as he's already recovered by the time she's ready to swing her sword. Is she ... //slowing down//? This brings to mind a troubling thought that has been brewing lately. More and more you've seen Aunt Sonia slip up in her sparring matches against Uncle Callen. They're only small issues, a weak swing here, a shoddy riposte there, but they often cost her the fight against him. Where once they had been evenly matched in combat, you began to notice a disparity in their respective prowess during training sessions. Uncle Callen was surpassing Aunt Sonia, it was plain to see, even given their respective ages. He must have been getting better, with his extended time fighting down below. Even now, you can tell she's struggling against an opponent who might have been trivial in the past. [[Your fingers tighten against the wooden railing.|Chap2Scene143Son]]

The culmination of your fears comes when Malack blocks a heavy swing from Aunt Sonia, bouncing his spear off of her sword and spinning with it. The strike hits her in the leg with a flash of light and a sound like glass smashing. The force of the ward breaking sends her into a mid-air spin before landing on her side, hard. The crowd gasps, and Uncle Callen grunts in concern. "//Come on, lass...//" he murmurs. "Archie, is her--" They respond with a shake of the head. "The wardwork is done, there is a mage ready to repair the damaged area." He nods glumly. "Right." ''The first round goes to Ser Malack Baalor. Result: ward-break. The competitors will now reset, with the loser's ward requiring maintenance.'' Aunt Sonia thumps the ground angrily with her fist, frustratedly dragging her blade through the dust as she walks past Ser Malack, bumping shoulders with him, to the hidden section, directly beneath where you sit. "Lass!" Uncle Callen calls out, and thankfully she hears him, angrily flipping her visor up to look. They lock eyes for a second, before Uncle Callen raises his hand and moves it down slowly, motioning for her to 'cool down'. You're not sure if she'll take this advice to heart, but she seems to agree with him, flipping her visor down with a nod and heading in. [[Next|Chap2Scene144Son]]

The second round begins slower than the first. Sonia does not make the first strike, instead raising her blade into a high block as Ser Malack approaches with an exaggerated, overhead swing. Her sword arm hurts, and she's not sure if she could make a winning strike now, with his superior guarding ability. //Should've listened to Cal telling me to learn to fight with both hands...// She gives her falchion a little spin in her hand, holding it out before her in a strong--she hopes--guard. She just has to wait, have a drop of patience, and let this cocky death-knight make the first mistake. Her mind lights with a plan all of a sudden, and she starts to walk backwards. "And where are you going..." Malack chuckles, rushing forward with a wide sweep of his weapon's blade. Sonia hops over it, daring to make a hasty chop aimed at his shoulder, which is promptly blocked by the dark wooden shaft of his spear. The wood splinters from the force, but the weapon's Empyrean core stops it from snapping. Malack growls at this. "I'll break your weapon before the day is done..." //Good,// Sonia thinks, //he's more of a baby than I am.// Malack spends the next minute swinging and stabbing wildly at Sonia, who makes exaggerated dodges and rarely tries to attack directly, instead testing his footing with the odd shove. The whole time, she carefully manoeuvres to the edge of the circle of light, her back foot stopping just before it ends. "Come on, fucker! I'm getting bored." She laughs, and that's the final straw for Malack. He yells, charging like a bull, and at the last second Sonia spins out of the way, sticking a plated foot out and tripping him with a clang. "Clever girl--" is all he gets out before he's sent clattering to the dirt, outside the light. //[[Fuck me, that worked?!|Chap2Scene145Son]]

Cheers break out, and Aunt Sonia thrusts her falchion into the air three times, triumphant. You can tell she loves this attention. "That's me lass!" Uncle Callen yells, clapping his hands as loudly as he can, "She cooks me breakfast!" <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Sam laughs gleefully. "She made 'im look a fool, $firstname!"<<else>>Archer smiles, relieved. "All too often do I forget she's actually quite good at this..."<</if>> <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>You huff a shaky breath. That was close.<<else>>You huff a happy breath. That was close.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene146Son]]

"That was a clever move, if dirty," Ser Malack calls out as he returns to his own spot, bashing his slightly dusty spear on the ground, "but I will show you the true meaning of 'dirty', Bladeweaver." Sonia snickers beneath her helm. "Did I hurt your feelings, Mally? The 'girl' make you angry?" The signalling horn blares as soon as they're back in their positions, and the crowd is roaring once more. Now angered, Ser Malack foregoes any care in his approach, snarling while sprinting with the heavy thud of boots on dirt. Their weapons clash, again and again... [[Next|Chap2Scene147Son]]

The third round of the duel is nail-biting in its speed, the two duelists becoming little more than flashes of silver-green as they dodge and weave around one another, their weapons clashing a half-dozen times every second in a thunderous cacophany of enchanted steel. Their flurry kicks up a thin cloud of dust, making the whole thing look like some sort of exaggerated puppet show: a pantomine of stabs and chops, kicks and shoves. They're fighting like they have nothing to lose, having thrown away any semblance of sportsmanlike conduct, Ser Malack and Aunt Sonia are in a desperate competition to just //win//. This is more brawl than duel. Uncle Callen sits at the edge of his seat, hands clasped in his lap. He watches the fight unblinkingly, eyes making minute movements with each shift in leverage. He isn't blinking. "Just a little longer, lass," he mutters with narrowed eyes, "that's all it'll take..." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>You're certain Sam hasn't taken a breath in the last minute, watching with wide, shining eyes. It's hard to tell if he's enthralled by the vicious fighting or disturbed by it.<<else>>You are similarly engaged, flinching with every strike.<</if>> When the two finally part, both warriors look to be panting from extertion, their plated shoulders rising and falling in a staccato rhythm, though it looks as if Aunt Sonia is doing slightly better. A chill runs down your neck, right through your arms. This will be it. What happens next decides the duel, you realise. Neither of them are in a condition to keep up a barrage like that again. Aunt Sonia seems to realise this, and grips her blade with two hands, drawing it up near her shoulders in a steadfast pose, in a classically 'knightly' challenge. Ser Malack smacks his blade against the dust, and charges. [[Next|Chap2Scene148Son]]

Sonia's fought dozens of warriors like this. Ones who underestimated her, talked her down, sought to make her feel sorry for herself. She never has, and never will. And each of those warriors knew //exactly// how to estimate her by the time she'd cleaned her blade off. //I'll have your apology before the sun goes down, bastard,// she thinks, cheeks red with battle-thrill, heart beating a quick rhythm. She's always felt strange for feeling at home like this, under stress in the heart of a fight. She wouldn't tell anybody about it, but she lives for the feeling. As Malack gets close enough to where she can see the stark whites of his eyes under his dark helm, she suddenly shifts stances into a fool's guard, her sword pointing to the ground behind her. She uses all of her strength, swinging the thing up--kicking up a plume of dust as she does so--directly into Malack's fast-approaching spearhead. The edges of each blade collide at such speed that Sonia actually sees a flash of light burst out from the impact. There is an immediate pressure in her ears, and a constant ringing immediately after. Both fighters are thrown to the ground, and Sonia prays he wasn't thrown out of the light. She wants to finish this right. [[Next|Chap2Scene149Son]]

When Aunt Sonia's sword strikes Ser Malack's spear, there's a flash of light and a sound like thunder--it's as if the small circle of light they fight in was suddenly struck by a terrible bolt of lightning. A ring of dust is pushed away from them, as a shockwave knocks the two warriors off their feet. Silence. A half-second later your ears find themselves covered by hands that aren't yours. You look up to find Uncle Callen grimacing in pain as what must be a terribly loud ringing assaults his ears. You must have been too focused on the fight to hear his warning. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>You glance to his side, and see Sam covering his own ears, squinting at the sound that must leak through his tightly-clasped hands.<<else>>You glance over at Archer, and notice that their earrings are //glowing//, and they haven't even covered their ears. They look quite smug about the whole thing, moving their ears up and down cheekily when they notice you staring.<</if>> A quick look at the nearby crowds tells you this clash was far louder than any of the others, with even the highest groups of people shifting as they recoil at the sound. "Ye'll forgive me if I'm askin' ye to repeat things in future, $callenChild." Uncle Callen chuckles once his hands are off your ears. "Yer hearin's very important. Take better care of it than I have, eh?" [[You turn your attention back to the duel quickly.|Chap2Scene150Son]]

The two of them recover quickly, and are back to trading blows within seconds of their fall. There's a hatred between the strikes they exchange, with each taking greater and greater risks in hope of that one winning blow. A gasp hitches in your throat as Ser Malack catches Aunt Sonia off-guard, kicking her in the leg and sending her into a kneel. Thankfully, she blocks his next strike, a quick jab aimed at her throat, and swings her blade as she stands. Ser Malack parries it, but sloppily, as her sword swings again to catch his leg. It does not break the ward, but the force of the blow sends him to his feet. The crowd begins to cheer, as Aunt Sonia stands tall above him as he attempts to recover. To Uncle Callen's frustration, she turns to the crowd, raising her arms again and eliciting even greater roars of approval. "Keep yer focus, lass!" He yells. She turns to finish the job, but Ser Malack is already up, readying a strike. Her sword simply does not fall to block the strike in time, and the spear's tip is driven into her breastplate. The sight of light has never been more dismaying. But Ser Malack does not stop there. With the ward broken and Aunt Sonia knocked off-balance by its breaking, the black-clad knight //continues// his approach. All you hear in that moment is the confused yelling of the crowd, and Uncle Callen's disbelieving gasp; a helpless, small sound. Every part of you prays, prays to anything that's listening, for Aunt Sonia to recover in time to //stop// him, because he isn't stopping. He isn't stopping, and then the spear is driven, once more, into her breastplate. This time there is no flash of light, no shockwave, no sign that she's unharmed. The spearhead punctures her like a straw doll. [[Chaos erupts.|Chap2Scene151Son]]

Your face goes cold, and your knees buckle. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Sam, in all of his own confusion, still manages to notice and grabs your arm, staring at you with a mix of emotion. Pity, fear, and more are mixed in, as he struggles with finding something to say.<<else>>Archer rushes out of their seat to steady you, struggling to find anything to say.<</if>> Uncle Callen pushes off the railing quickly, barging through the door without a word as he stomps away. The crowd is in hysterics, yelling and screams erupting throughout as Ser Malack drops his now-bloodied spear and tosses it to the ground, throwing his hands up in surrender as those hidden guards approach him warily, holding weapons of their own. Aunt Sonia writhes on the floor, hands clasped over the rip in her armour. [[You need to get to her. Follow Uncle Callen.|Chap2Scene152Sona]] [[You should stay here.|Chap2Scene152Sonb]]

"$firstname--!" Archer grabs you as you make to leave, placing their hands on your shoulders. "You must stay //here//. It is not safe down there, do you understand?" <<if $volatile > 50>>You roughly throw their hands off you. "I'm going! You can't stop me!" You yell, before ducking beneath their arm and take off, just as Uncle Callen did.<<else>>You grab their hands, fixing them with an earnest stare. "//Please//." You whimper, and to your surprise, they let go. You take off, just as Uncle Callen did.<</if>> His shouting draws you to him. "Which way?!" He asks each servant frantically, darting past as they point him in the direction of the arena's entrance. "Callen!" Archer calls out from behind, causing him to pause and look numbly at you for a moment, before looking at them. "Do not do anything rash. You're in no condition for battle, and-- "Oh, damn //battle//," he grunts. "Battle's what did this to 'er, an' damnable //pride//." His words are spat with a vitroil you've never seen him exhibit, and it causes you and Archer to follow quietly behind as he rushes forward. [[Next|Chap2Scene153Son]]

"Stay here, //please//," Archer pleads with you as they run out of the door to find Uncle Callen. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>You stand in shocked silence, barely aware of Sam's presence. "Hey," he mutters weakly, voice cracking, "she'll be alright. They got a whole lot of healers here, right? Nothin's gonna happen to her, $firstname." He moves further into your field of vision as he speaks, speaking words of comfort and assurance. [[🌞- You spit. "What do you know?!"|Chap2Scene153.5a2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]] [["I know," you rasp, voice weak with fear.|Chap2Scene153.5b2]] <<if $samRomance == 0>>[[🌞❤️+ This display from Sam, this pure, unfettered support, makes you see him in a different light. Something blooms, deep in your tattered, fearful heart. A fondness, with Sam at its very centre. "I know," you rasp.|Chap2Scene153.5b2][$samRomance to 1, $ch2SamCrushMoment to 3]]<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞❤️+ This display from Sam, this pure, unfettered support, seems to bring the two of you closer than you have been before. Something has shifted, and both of you understand that. "I know," you rasp.|Chap2Scene153.5b2][$samRomance to 2]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>><<else>>You stand in shocked silence, alone with your own thoughts. It feels cold, but you know it isn't. [[At this very moment, all you can think of is doing exactly what Ser Malack did, back to him. It's an ugly thought, one you should not have.|Chap2MRevenge][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]] [[You can do nothing but look on, desperately.|Chap2Watch][$ch2MalackRevenge to "no"]]<</if>>

He stammers, "I--I just..." "Just stop it." You groan, still staring at the scene below. "Stop trying to make it better." Sam slumps in his chair, wringing his hands furiously, and you turn your attention back to what matters; the scene below you. You spot Uncle Callen running, with Archer at his side, to where Aunt Sonia lays on the dirt, still shifting around uncomfortably. She is surrounded by all sorts of people, oddly-dressed mages, healers, and the odd Bladeweaver. Ser Malack is already being escorted away, and he is pushed quite roughly back by the guards when he attempts to walk over to Uncle Callen, who crouches at his companion's side. [[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a2]]

Sam rubs your back softly, and just watches the scene below with you. You spot Uncle Callen running, with Archer at his side, to where Aunt Sonia lays on the dirt, still shifting around uncomfortably. She is surrounded by all sorts of people, oddly-dressed mages, healers, and the odd Bladeweaver. Ser Malack is already being escorted away, and he is pushed quite roughly back by the guards when he attempts to walk over to Uncle Callen, who crouches at his companion's side. [[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a2]]

The cloth covering the roof of the arena is being retracted as you exit onto the grounds, and you squint as an abundance of sunlight suddenly fills the space. Uncle Callen dashes ahead to Aunt Sonia, who is now surrounded by all sorts of people; oddly-dressed mages, healers, and the odd Bladeweaver. Master Gwyndon, who must have been in the lower section, watching--stands to speak to him. "Edros, please keep your calm--" "Is she alright?" He mutters, hovering a hand inches from her. "Where's--" "He is being escorted off-grounds. Rest assured, his punishment will be swift and equal to his crime here." "Why'd she--" Uncle Callen stammers, "you fool, lass..." You're locked on to Aunt Sonia, writhing on the ground like some ... //creature//. You've seen dying rats before, and the way their legs twitched while the light left their eyes is all you can think of when you look at her. Blood leaks out of the tear in her armour, and her helm has been thrown off. Her eyes are half-closed, and she mutters something inaudible, breathing in great wet gasps. "Aunt So--" Your breath hitches in your throat, as a hot flush licks its way down your spine. Your vision flashes with images of the seat you had sat in, as vivid as if you were still sitting in it. Something beckons you to <span id = "invader-text">look, do not look away,</span> and so you do, head whipping around to stare at the place you had just been. Your already-thrumming heart drops like a stone when you find it occupied by something ... <span id = "invader-text">terrifying.</span> The white figure sits in your chair--the very same one you saw only in murky reflections weeks ago. Your throat seizes, and you're rooted to the spot, even as Aunt Sonia is carried past on a cloth stretcher and Uncle Callen urges you to come with him. The words he speaks are inaudible. They are words above the water, and you are drowning. The thing's bleached appearance, upon closer inspection, looks to be //armour//, paper-white and warped in impossible ways, with inky dribbles leaking from its sparse joints. It reminds you of paper-art, where the delicate stuff would form intricate folds and shapes. It's draped in a matted fur cloak, of mottled maroon and coal-black. The thing slowly tilts its head, concealed by a featureless helm pointed like a crow's beak, and you blink on impulse. When your eyes flit open, it is gone, and you are yourself once more. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, and your vision is full of the afterimage of a pale red moon. [[And the image of Aunt Sonia's limp form in the stretcher, pale and still.|Chap2Scene155b]]

In the dust, standing behind everybody else, is something ... <span id = "invader-text">terrifying.</span> Your already-thrumming heart drops like a stone. The white figure stands amidst the gathered crowd below--the very same one you saw only in murky reflections weeks ago. Your throat seizes, and you're frozen to the spot, even as Aunt Sonia is carried away on a cloth stretcher and Sam mutters words you cannot hear. They are words above the water, and you are drowning. The thing's bleached appearance, upon closer inspection, looks to be //armour//, paper-white and warped in impossible ways, with inky dribbles leaking from its tight joints. It reminds you of paper-art, where the delicate stuff would form intricate folds and shapes. It's draped in a matted fur cloak, of mottled maroon and coal-black. The thing slowly tilts its head, concealed by a featureless helm pointed like a crow's beak, and you blink on impulse. When your eyes flit open, it is gone, and you are yourself once more. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, and your vision is full of the afterimage of a pale red moon. [[The last thing you see is Aunt Sonia's limp form in the stretcher, pale and still.|Chap2Scene155]]

<<set $samDrawing to "none">>"So," he bounces up and down a few times, "what //did// you get?" <<if $stubborn > 50>>"Be patient!" You scold, chuckling while undoing the latch on the box.<<else>>"Take a look," you say while undoing the latch on the box.<</if>> The lid swings open silently, and <<if $chap2Gift == "pencils">>your fresh set of pencils and drawing paper are revealed for the second time today, to a brand-new pair of eyes--eyes that widen in delight upon seeing them. "You got pencils?!" Sam coos, appraising them like little sticks of gold. It's silly, but you feel a surge of pride that he liked them. They may as well be little sticks of gold, for all intents and purposes. "There's so many, $samNick! These'll last you //ages//," he informs you, almost reaching out to touch them but stopping short. "Are you good at drawing?" <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>[["Oh, yeah," you lie, "I'm the best artist." (Honesty -)|Chap2ShowPencil2b][$honesty to $honesty - 1]] [["No," you snicker, "but I still like doing it!" (Cold -)|Chap2ShowPencil2e][$cold to $cold - 2]] [["I'm not sure," you shrug, "I practise a lot." |Chap2ShowPencil2a]] [["No, not really," you admit. "Im practising, though." (Honesty +)|Chap2ShowPencil2f][$honesty to $honesty + 1]]<<elseif $drawingSkill == 2>>[["Oh, yeah," you boast, "I'm the best artist." (Confident +)|Chap2ShowPencil2c][$cautious to $cautious - 1]] [["Oh, not really..." You murmur shyly. In truth, you are quite good, but you don't have many people to show your drawings to. (Confident -)|Chap2ShowPencil2d][$cautious to $cautious + 2]]<</if>><<elseif $chap2Gift == "locket">>your locket is revealed for the second time today, to a brand-new pair of eyes--eyes that widen in interest upon seeing it. "You got a necklace? It's so shiny!" He coos, not quite as interested as you might have hoped. <<if $stubborn > 50>>"It's a //locket//," you correct him, "there's something inside."<<else>>"It's not just that," you explain, "there's more to it."<</if>> Your mysterious words seem to pique his interest now, as he looks genuinely interested in your locket. //That'll// teach him to assume! "Can you open it and show me?" He asks, bouncing in anticipation. [["Of course!" You pull the locket out, opening it up.|Chap2ShowLocket1]] [["Nope!" You joke, fully intending to show him. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2ShowLocket2]]<<elseif $chap2Gift == "musicbox">>the interior of the music box is revealed in full, immediately playing that disjointed tune again. "Oh!" Sam exclaims. "It's so pretty..." After a moment, he cocks his head and listens intently. "Wait, I know this song. Why's it sound so different?" [["It's two songs. Isn't that clever?" (Cold -)|Chap2ShowMusicBox1][$cold to $cold - 1]] [["Can't you tell it's two songs?" You say, haughtily. (Volatile +, Cold +)|Chap2ShowMusicBox2][$volatile to $volatile + 1, $cold to $cold + 1]]<<else>>your training knife is revealed for the second time today, the polished wooden surface shining in the light. Sam's eyes widen, and he gasps. "That's a practise knife!" For a moment you think he's yelling in protest of your bringing a knife--albeit a wooden, blunt one--into his house. <<if $cautious > 50>>Oh, Gods. Is this some great offence to Abrians? What if he--"<<else>><</if>> Your worries are assuaged when he grins at the thing. "That looks //amazing//, $samNick! Can I try some tricks with it?" [["You ... know how to do knife tricks?"|Chap2ShowKnife1]] [["Only if you teach me!" You demand.|Chap2ShowKnife2]] [[He can't possibly know how to do knife tricks, while you can't.|Chap2ShowKnife3]]<</if>>

"I bet you'll be good, then!" Sam grins excitedly. "Can you draw somethin' now?" he asks, erring on begging. "You got paper right there, so you could..." [["Oh, I don't really want to use them right now," you say.|Chap2ShowPencil3c1]] [[It could be fun, and you'll get a chance to test these things out.|Chap2ShowPencil3c2]]

You are not, but it's a white lie, one you aren't likely to have to-- "Can you draw somethin' now?" Sam asks, erring on begging, incensed by your dishonest boast. "You got paper right there, so you could..." //Bugger//, as Uncle Callen would say. [["Oh, um, I don't really want to at the minute. They're ... new." You try to worm your way out of having to prove yourself.|Chap2ShowPencil3b1]] [["Well ... alright." You acquiesce. This is going to be embarrassing.|Chap2ShowPencil3b2]]

And don't you know it? "Can you draw somethin' now?" Sam asks, erring on begging, incensed by your boast. "You got paper right there, so you could..." [["Oh, I don't really want to use them right now," you say.|Chap2ShowPencil3c1]] [[It could be fun, and you'll get a chance to test these things out.|Chap2ShowPencil3c2]]

"Oh, I bet you are!" Sam says, disagreeing with you quite strongly. "You should draw sometin' now, in fact. You got paper right there, so you could... [["Oh, I don't really want to use them right now," you say.|Chap2ShowPencil3c1]] [[It could be fun, and you'll get a chance to test these things out.|Chap2ShowPencil3c2]]

"I bet!" Sam laughs. "Can you draw somethin' now?" He asks, erring on begging. "You got paper right there, so you could..." [["Oh, I don't really want to use them right now," you say.|Chap2ShowPencil3c1]] [[It could be fun, and you'll get a chance to test these things out.|Chap2ShowPencil3c2]]

"That's okay!" Sam reassures. //Crisis averted!// "But you gotta use them //one day//, $samNick. Pencils are made to be used," he says, with all the wizened thoughtfulness of a sage--you idly wonder what he'd look like with a big grey beard. "Anyway," he continues, "I like drawing, too. I haven't had anything proper to do it on for a bit, but pa let me carve on some of the crates on the ship here. C'mon, take a look--" with that, you're promptly stood up and practically dragged over to one of the many moving crates that dot his bedroom. He points to a small scratching on the lid, which upon closer inspection reveals itself to be a roughly-done whale, mid-jump. It's hardly the most beautiful piece, but what wood carving done by a nine-year-old would be? "There were //so// many whales when we crossed the channel," Sam chatters excitedly, "they'd jump way up high and come splashing down! One of them even rocked the ship a bit, which made me woozy." Sam turns away from the 'drawing' and hops back on his bed, chuckling at his own seasickness. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

Sam pumps his fist in excitement, shuffling back to give you space. You pull a piece of paper from the lid, along with one of the pencils. It's smooth in your hand, and slightly cold to the touch. You notice there's a tiny blade included for sharpening them, but they don't need that right now. They're ready to go. "What should I draw?" You ponder aloud, tapping the blunt end of the pencil against your cheek. You notice a few things around the room, namely a little carving of a whale on one of the wooden crates dotted around--likely done by Sam--as well as one of Sam's various toys that looks like it could be done quickly. Of course, there's also Sam himself. Sam looks around frantically, coming up with nothing. "Huh, I don't actually know." After some more thought, you settle on an idea... [["I'll draw you." You decide, turning to Sam.|Chap2DrawSamLie][$samDrawing to "sam2"]] [["I'll draw one of your toys." You decide, motioning for him to pick one out.|Chap2DrawToyLie][$samDrawing to "toy2"]] [["I'll draw that whale." You decide, pointing at the boy's carving.|Chap2DrawWhaleLie][$samDrawing to "whale2"]]

"Aww ... I guess that's okay." Sam reassures you. "But you gotta use them //one day//, $samNick. Pencils are made to be used," he says, with all the wizened thoughtfulness of a sage--you idly wonder what he'd look like with a big grey beard. "Anyway," he continues, "I like drawing, too. I haven't had anything proper to do it on for a bit, but pa let me carve on some of the crates on the ship here. C'mon, take a look--" with that, you're promptly stood up and practically dragged over to one of the many moving crates that dot his bedroom. He points to a small scratching on the lid, which upon closer inspection reveals itself to be a roughly-done whale, mid-jump. It's hardly the most beautiful piece, but what wood carving done by a nine-year-old would be? "There were //so// many whales when we crossed the channel," Sam chatters excitedly, "they'd jump way up high and come splashing down! One of them even rocked the ship a bit, which made me woozy." Sam turns away from the 'drawing' and hops back on his bed, chuckling at his own seasickness. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

Sam grins and pumps his fist in excitement, shuffling back to give you space. You pull a piece of paper from the lid, along with one of the pencils. It's smooth in your hand, and slightly cold to the touch. You notice there's a tiny blade included for sharpening them, but they don't need that right now. They're ready to go. "What should I draw?" You ponder aloud, tapping the blunt end of the pencil against your cheek. You notice a few things around the room, namely a little carving of a whale on one of the wooden crates dotted around--likely done by Sam--as well as one of Sam's various toys that looks like it could be done quickly. Of course, there's also Sam himself. Sam looks around frantically, coming up with nothing. "Huh, I don't actually know." After some more thought, you settle on an idea... [["I'll draw that whale." You decide, pointing at the boy's carving.|Chap2DrawWhale][$samDrawing to "whale"]] [["I'll draw one of your toys." You decide, motioning for him to pick one out.|Chap2DrawToy][$samDrawing to "toy"]] [["I'll draw you." You decide, turning to Sam.|Chap2DrawSam][$samDrawing to "sam"]]

"Oh, yeah," he nods strongly, "you always gotta practise, even if you aren't good at the start. Can you draw somethin' now?" he asks, erring on begging. "You got paper right there, so you could..." [["Oh, I don't really want to use them right now," you say.|Chap2ShowPencil3c1]] [[It could be fun, and you'll get a chance to test these things out.|Chap2ShowPencil3c2]]

"Well," Sam bounces up and down on the blush bed, "thanks for showin' me what you got! It was real nice." <<if $chap2BringGift == "yesSam">><<if $samRomance > 0>>[[🔥"I thought you'd like it," you admit. "That's the reason I brought it in the first place." (Honesty +)|Chap2ShowGiftEnd2aR][$honesty to $honesty + 1]]<<else>>[["I actually brought it to show you," you admit. (Honesty +)|Chap2ShowGiftEnd2a][$honesty to $honesty + 1]]<</if>> [[🌞++ "Glad you liked it!" You'll not admit that you brought it just for him.|Chap2ShowGiftEnd4][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [[You'll not admit you brought it just for him. That would be embarrassing! (Cautious +)|Chap2ShowGiftEnd3][$cautious to $cautious + 1]]<<else>>[[🌞++ "Glad you liked it!"|Chap2ShowGiftEnd4][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [["It was good, wasn't it?" The boast feels warranted.|Chap2ShowgiftEnd5]]<</if>>

He looks puzzled for a moment, but a small, soft smile creeps its way in. "//Really?//" he giggles quietly. "Well, I //did// like it, so you made a good choice."<<if $samRomance == 2>>It's only been a few hours since you've known one another, but it feels as if you know this boy as well as any other friend you've tried to make--only something is //different//. You can't place it, but Sam's looking at you in much the same way as you must be looking at him.<<else>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene80c]]

He giggles sweetly. "Well, I //did// like it, so you made a good choice." [[Next|Chap2Scene80c]]

"What whale?" Sam asks, narrowing his eyes. You point at the carving with your pencil, and he gasps. "Oh! I forgot about that. It's not very good, so maybe you could draw it better?" It's half a challenge and half a request, one you're all too welcome to oblige. Whales are just one of the many massive creatures that inahbit Phanol's surrounding oceans. They even swim around the Bloodied Sea--the stretch of water between Telfrin's eastern coast and Abria's western coast, respectively--when migrating to the cooler waters. You have, of course, never seen one in person, nor have you seen the ocean up-close. The view from Sola provides a great many sights, but a detailed look at anything is not one of them. The drawing is crude and rough, but you have the general idea of a whale from it. The aquatic beast's flipper is pointing in the air, as the body arcs down as if it's landing in the water. The only problem, it's quite //far//, making it hard to get a good look at the thing. <<if $cautious < 50>>"Could you pull the crate closer?" "Oh, sure."<<else>>"Um," you mutter quietly, "it's hard to see..." "Oh, right! I'll bring it over."<</if>> Sam hops up and drags the thing closer to you, grunting and shuffling his feet on the floor uselessly. It must be heavy, but he eventually gets there. "Phew!" He breathes, settling back down to watch you draw. [[Next|Chap2DrawWhale2]]

"Ooh, good idea!" Sam hops up and picks up a toy, after a few moments of contemplation. When he returns, there's a little painted dragon cradled in his hands. "This's my favourite one," he informs you. A dragon toy is a rare sight. You did have one in your childhood, but it's a tattered, filthy thing by now. The former royal family of Telfrin--which was usurped and went extinct a millennium ago--supposedly came from the far east, bringing dragons with them, even though countless voyages and explorers have found nothing but violent seas to Phanol's east. They controlled and rode these beasts, subjugating much of Phanol as part of a kingdom that would dwarf any of the continent's four major nations today. But the Aiglots, of which King Thibau and his many descendants belong to, somehow overthrew them. And that's why dragons are considered an omen, a creature of tyrants and ill-intentioned monsters. Being from Abria, Sam's people probably don't have the same notions about them. The toy is about the size of your palm, made of raw wood that's been carved and painted over with little silver details. The eyes, wings, and horns are daubed with the shiny stuff, giving it a distinguished appearance, not at all what you'd expect of a toy owned by Sam. It looks to be in near-pristine condition, as well. "Is this new, or something?" You ask, peering at it. It couldn't be, if it's his favourite, but then you suppose he could have just liked it a lot as soon as he saw it. "No," he answers, confusing you further, "I got it a year or two ago, but I just take good care of it." Well, that's all the better for you, if you're to be attempting to put it to paper. <<if $patient < 50>>"Hold it still," you command, noticing the way his arm sways slightly. "I'm tryin'," he mumbles, gripping his shaky arm with his other hand. Perfect. Now you can get to work!<<else>>His arm is a little shaky, making the thing sway around, but it's not a terrible inconvenience, so you just get to work.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2DrawToy2]]

"Me?" He asks, twisting his mouth. "Why would you wanna draw //me?//" <<if $samRomance > 0>>"Well, it--it's a portrait," you scramble to come up with an answer, even as your palms begin to sweat. "It's useful for learning! Drawing faces is really hard, so it'd be good practise."<<else>>"Well, it's a portrait," you explain, "They're good practise for drawing people's faces."<</if>> "Huh ... well, alright. I dunno if I can stay still for very long, though, so I might look wonky!" Your last portrait, a scratchy drawing of Uncle Callen, was hardly a great success. It was not helped by his refusal to take the whole thing seriously, laughing and chatting with Aunt Sonia all the while. He'd tried to hide his laughter when you showed it to him, but acknowledged that it was at least partly his fault. Hopefully Sam won't be the same. [[Next|Chap2DrawSam2]]

"Ooh, good idea!" Sam hops up and picks up a toy, after a few moments of contemplation. When he returns, there's a little painted dragon cradled in his hands. "This's my favourite one," he informs you. A dragon toy is a rare sight. You did have one in your childhood, but it's a tattered, filthy thing by now. The former royal family of Telfrin--which was usurped and went extinct a millennium ago--supposedly came from the far east, bringing dragons with them, even though countless voyages and explorers have found nothing but violent seas in that direction. They controlled and rode these beasts, subjugating much of Phanol as part of a kingdom that would dwarf any of the continent's four major nations today. But the Aiglots, of which King Thibau and his many descendants belong to, somehow overthrew them. And that's why dragons are considered an omen, a creature of tyrants and ill-intentioned monsters. Being from Abria, Sam's people probably don't have the same notions about them. The toy is about the size of your palm, made of raw wood that's been carved and painted over with little silver details. The eyes, wings, and horns are daubed with the shiny stuff, giving it a distinguished appearance, not at all what you'd expect of a toy owned by Sam. It looks to be in near-pristine condition, as well. "Is this new, or something?" You ask, peering at it. It couldn't be, if it's his favourite, but then you suppose he could have just liked it a lot as soon as he saw it. "No," he answers, confusing you further, "I got it a year or two ago, but I just take good care of it." Well, that's all the better for you, if you're to be attempting to put it to paper. <<if $patient < 50>>"Hold it still," you command, noticing the way his arm sways slightly. "I'm tryin'," he mumbles, gripping his shaky arm with his other hand. Perfect. Now you can get to work!<<else>>His arm is a little shaky, making the thing sway around, but it's not a terrible inconvenience, so you just get to work.<</if>> You can only hope Sam will be nice when he realises your artistic skill is not all you'd made it up to be. [[Next|Chap2DrawToyLie2]]

"What whale?" Sam asks, narrowing his eyes. You point at the carving with your pencil, and he gasps. "Oh! I forgot about that. It's not very good, so maybe you could draw it better?" Not likely, but you're practically forced to oblige. Whales are just one of the many massive creatures that inahbit Phanol's surrounding oceans. They even swim around the Bloodied Sea--the stretch of water between Telfrin's eastern coast and Abria's western coast, respectively--when migrating to the cooler waters. You have, of course, never seen one in person, nor have you seen the ocean up-close. The view from Sola provides a great many sights, but a detailed look at anything is not one of them. The drawing is crude and rough, but you have the general idea of a whale from it. The aquatic beast's flipper is pointing in the air, as the body arcs down as if it's landing in the water. The only problem, it's quite //far//, making it hard to get a good look at the thing. <<if $cautious < 50>>"Could you pull the crate closer?" "Oh, sure."<<else>>"Um," you mutter quietly, "it's hard to see..." "Oh, right! I'll bring it over."<</if>> Sam hops up and drags the thing closer to you, grunting and shuffling his feet on the floor uselessly. It must be heavy, but he eventually gets there. "Phew!" He breathes, settling back down to watch you draw. You can only hope Sam will be nice when he realises your artistic skill is not all you'd made it up to be. [[Next|Chap2DrawWhaleLie2]]

You draw as you were taught, by a little book that teaches the very fundamentals gifted on your seventh birthday. First come the major forms, the circles and arcs that make up the dragon's body and limbs, and then the finer details--the shadow of the wings on the body, the intricate texture of the spiralling horns--all while your gaze flicks from the dragon to the paper, in quick succession. <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>You take your time, trying not to make a mistake, though a few small ones end up in there, and you leave out some fine details in fear that you'll mess them up.<<else>>You take your time, though you likely needn't. Whether by skill or practise, you are very good at drawing, at least sketching from a reference like this. Working from your imagination is more difficult.<</if>> Sam tries to crane his neck to look at how you're doing from time to time, but you hide the paper whenever he does. "Wait until it's done!" you chide. The boy pouts, but doesn't argue, settling down. After almost fifteen minutes of sketching, you are finally done. You give the paper a shake and turn it over to Sam, whose eyebrows lift once he studies it. <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>"Wow, $samNick. This's good!" He lifts the toy side-by-side with your drawing, glancing between them like you did, only his purpose is scrutiny, not study. "I probably got a bit of it wrong..." you admit, smiling sheepishly. He giggles. "I don't care! I didn't pay you or anything. You're ... not wantin' money, are you?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Now that you mention it..." You hold your hand out, rubbing your fingers together in a way you've seen Aunt Sonia do when she's trying to subtly talk about money without saying the word. He snickers, and pulls the drawing closer. "Nope!<<else>>You snicker. "No?" He breathes a sigh of relief. "//Phew!// Alright, that's good.<</if>> But it really is good ... even if his head's a bit big," he points out, and you huff in frustration. You really thought you had that part down! "Um," Sam mumbles, "could I ... keep it?"<<else>>"Whoa, $samNick. This's like somethin' from a book!" He lifts the toy side-by-side with your drawing, glancing between them like you did, only his purpose is scrutiny, not study. You're pleased that he likes it so much. "You really like it?" He nods quickly, bouncing his loose curls up and down. "Uh, yeah?! I wanna ... //could// I keep it?"<</if>> His question, sudden and quiet, is laced with hope. Sam looks at you, awaiting an answer. [[🌞+ "...I suppose you can," you say, begrudgingly.|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [[🌞++ "Of course you can!"|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [["I'd rather keep it, sorry..." You like to keep your sketches.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing1][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no"]] [[🌞- "What? No." It's your drawing.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing2][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]

He cheers excitedly, dropping the dragon toy in the process and frantically scrambling to pick it up. "Thank you, $samNick! I'll ask pa to frame it, or somethin'." <<if $samRomance > 0>>He wants to //frame// your fifteen-minute sketch? That's lovely, typical of what you've come to expect from this boy you met only hours ago, and already harbor these sickly-sweet feelings for.<<else>>He wants to frame your fifteen-minute sketch? That's sweet, though typical of what you've come to expect from this boy you met only hours ago.<</if>> <<if $chap2Drawing == "whale" or $chap2Drawing == "whale2">>"Anyway," he says after gently laying your drawing on his bedside table. "How long have you been drawing for?" <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>"Not long," you admit, "I only really started doing it properly recently. That's why I wanted some new pencils."<<else>>"I've been doing it for a while. I wanted these to stock up on more pencils."<</if>> "Well, keep doin' it, $samNick. Maybe you'll be a famous artist one day, and you can sell your pieces in my shops!" "You want to be a merchant like your father?" You ask. He shrugs. "Maybe! I don't really know yet. I could be something else and still have the shops, right?" You give a conciliatory nod. That's possible.<<else>>"Anyway," he says, after putting the toy back in a safe place and gently laying your drawing on his bedside table. "I like drawing, too. I haven't had anything proper to do it on for a bit, but pa let me carve on some of the crates on the ship here. C'mon, take a look--" with that, you're promptly stood up and practically dragged over to one of the many moving crates that dot his bedroom. He points to a small scratching on the lid, which upon closer inspection reveals itself to be a roughly-done whale, mid-jump. It's hardly the most beautiful piece, but what wood carving done by a nine-year-old would be? "There were //so// many whales when we crossed the channel," Sam chatters excitedly, "they'd jump way up high and come splashing down! One of them even rocked the ship a bit, which made me woozy." Sam turns away from the 'drawing' and hops back on his bed, chuckling at his own seasickness.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

His hopeful smile wilts a bit, but doesn't drop completely. "That's fine! Just keep it safe, yeah? Maybe I'll wanna look at it another time," he reasons, carefully handing it back to you. You clip the drawing back where the paper first came from, putting your now-used pencil in its former place and latching the box up again. <<if $chap2Drawing == "whale" or $chap2Drawing == "whale2">>"Anyway," he says, moving past your rejection. "How long have you been drawing for?" <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>"Not long," you admit, "I only really started doing it properly recently. That's why I wanted some new pencils."<<else>>"I've been doing it for a while. I wanted these to stock up on more pencils."<</if>> "Well, keep doin' it, $samNick. Maybe you'll be a famous artist one day, and you can sell your pieces in my shops!" "You want to be a merchant like your father?" You ask. He shrugs. "Maybe! I don't really know yet. I could be something else and still have the shops, right?" You give a conciliatory nod. That's possible.<<else>>"Anyway," he says, moving past your rejection. "I like drawing, too. I haven't had anything proper to do it on for a bit, but pa let me carve on some of the crates on the ship here. C'mon, take a look--" with that, you're promptly stood up and practically dragged over to one of the many moving crates that dot his bedroom. He points to a small scratching on the lid, which upon closer inspection reveals itself to be a roughly-done whale, mid-jump. It's hardly the most beautiful piece, but what wood carving done by a nine-year-old would be? "There were //so// many whales when we crossed the channel," Sam chatters excitedly, "they'd jump way up high and come splashing down! One of them even rocked the ship a bit, which made me woozy." Sam turns away from the 'drawing' and hops back on his bed, chuckling at his own seasickness.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

His hopeful smile drops, but he attempts to recover quickly. "Oh, that's fine, then. It is your drawing, I guess..." he sighs, handing it back to you. You clip the drawing back where the paper first came from, putting your now-used pencil in its former place and latching the box up again. <<if $chap2Drawing == "whale" or $chap2Drawing == "whale2">>"Anyway," he says, moving past your--admittedly curt--rejection. "How long have you been drawing for?" <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>"Not long," you admit, "I only really started doing it properly recently. That's why I wanted some new pencils."<<else>>"I've been doing it for a while. I wanted these to stock up on more pencils."<</if>> "Well, keep doin' it, $samNick. Maybe you'll be a famous artist one day, and you can sell your pieces in my shops!" "You want to be a merchant like your father?" You ask. He shrugs. "Maybe! I don't really know yet. I could be something else and still have the shops, right?" You give a conciliatory nod. That's possible.<<else>>"Anyway," he says, moving past your--admittedly curt--rejection. "I like drawing, too. I haven't had anything proper to do it on for a bit, but pa let me carve on some of the crates on the ship here. C'mon, take a look--" with that, you're promptly stood up and practically dragged over to one of the many moving crates that dot his bedroom. He points to a small scratching on the lid, which upon closer inspection reveals itself to be a roughly-done whale, mid-jump. It's hardly the most beautiful piece, but what wood carving done by a nine-year-old would be? "There were //so// many whales when we crossed the channel," Sam chatters excitedly, "they'd jump way up high and come splashing down! One of them even rocked the ship a bit, which made me woozy." Sam turns away from the 'drawing' and hops back on his bed, chuckling at his own seasickness.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

You just smile at him in return. You aren't sure whether Sam would laugh at you for wanting to do that, but you're not taking any chances! [[Next|Chap2Scene80c]]

He grins. "I did! I can't wait til' all my stuff is unpacked. I got lots I think you'd like." [[Chap2Scene80c]]

"That it was, $samNick!" He gives you a big thumbs up, giggling. "I can't wait til' all my stuff is unpacked. There's a lot I think you'd like." [[Next|Chap2Scene80c]]

You draw as you were taught, by a little book that teaches the very fundamentals gifted on your seventh birthday. First come the major forms, the big block that makes up the whale's body and the smaller ones that comprise its flippers and tail, and then the finer details--the ridges on the jaw, how shiny you imagine a wet whale would be, all details that are not present in Sam's rendition--to the paper, in quick succession. <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>You take your time, trying not to make a mistake, though a few small ones end up in there, and you leave out some fine details in fear that you'll mess them up.<<else>>You take your time, though you likely needn't. Whether by skill or practise, you are very good at drawing, even with an incomplete reference. It's an interesting challenge, using your imagination at the same time.<</if>> Sam tries to crane his neck to look at how you're doing from time to time, but you hide the paper whenever he does. "Wait until it's done!" you chide. The boy pouts, but doesn't argue, settling down. After almost fifteen minutes of sketching, you are finally done. You give the paper a shake and turn it over to Sam, whose eyebrows lift once he studies it. <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>"Wow, $samNick. It's way better than mine!" He glances between your drawing and his carving, comparing them in his head. "I tried to make it look more real, but I don't see many whales..." you admit, smiling sheepishly. He shrugs, "Looks whale-ish to me." He pauses a moment, thinking. "Would it be 'whale-esque'?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Whale-adjacent," is what you settle on, and you both laugh.<<else>>"I'm not sure what it'd be," you snicker. "I got it! Whale-y." Sam declares, grinning proudly. "That works."<</if>> "Could I ... keep it?"<<else>>"Whoa!" Sam exclaims, "It's like a real whale!" "You like it?" He nods quickly, bouncing his loose curls up and down. "Uh, yeah?! I wanna ... //could// I keep it?"<</if>> His question, sudden and quiet, is laced with hope. Sam looks at you, awaiting an answer. [[🌞+ "...I suppose you can," you say, begrudgingly.|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [[🌞++ "Of course you can!"|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [["I'd rather keep it, sorry..." You like to keep your sketches.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing1][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no"]] [[🌞- "What? No." It's your drawing.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing2][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]

You draw as you were taught, by a little book that teaches the very fundamentals gifted on your seventh birthday. First come the major forms, the shape of his face--the rounded curve of his jaw, the lines that will help you align his eyes, nose and mouth--and then the fine details. The slight inward tilt of his eyes, the ghost of a dimple at each corner of his mouth, carefully schooled into a neutral expression for drawing purposes. It looks so unnatural on him that you wonder if you should ask him to smile instead, but decide against it. He already looks like he's about to break at any moment, and that's after only a dozen minutes of drawing. His hair is quite easy to get through, and he giggles when he can tell you're just scrawling in big, loose circles to form the basic impression of it at first.<<if $samRomance > 0>> Every now and then, when you take a break from drawing to study his face, your eyes meet. Sam always looks away first, but it feels exciting to lock eyes with him for those precious few seconds.<<else>><</if>> Sam tries to crane his neck to look at how you're doing from time to time, but you hide the paper whenever he does. "Stay still!" You chide. The boy pouts, but doesn't argue, settling down. After almost fifteen minutes of sketching, you are finally done. You give the paper a shake and turn it over to Sam, who grins once he studies it. <<if $drawingSkill == 1>>"I really look like that?" He giggles. You frown, somewhat defensive. "Drawing you is hard..." "Oh, I know, it's still good!" he snickers, holding it up side-by-side with his face. Like this, it's clear to see what you got wrong, and what you got right. Still, you reckon it's a good effort for fifteen minutes of drawing, and you'll not let this giggling boy disparage your work! <<if $volatile > 50>>"I did tell you to stay still..." You grumble, and he smiles sympathetically. "I //did// warn you, $samNick. I can't just sit like that, doin' nothing!"<<else>>"You could have tried to stay more still..." You sigh, and he smiles sympathetically. "Next time I will, promise." <<if $samRomance ==1 >>Your heart leaps at the idea he'd want you to do this //again//. You smile, averting your eyes.<<elseif $samRomance == 2>>He gets the words out quickly and unconfidently, a far cry from how he usually speaks. You meet his eyes, and the two of you smile, looking away quickly. He'd want you to do this //again?//<<else>>He'd really want you to do //this// again? Well, alright. Practise is practise.<</if>><</if>><<else>>"Wow, it really looks like me!" He chuckles, as if it was an unexpected thing. "If I had a mirror I'd take a look properly, but I can tell this is good, $samNick," he says, voice warm with praise. He holds the paper next to his face, and you really //can// see where you went right with the portrait. There are a few small areas that could use improvement (why //are// lips so difficult to draw?!) but for a fifteen-minute sketch, with a ... difficult subject, you're not complaining, and neither is Sam, apparently.<</if>> What he says next is somewhat unexpected. "Could I ... keep it?" His question, sudden and quiet, is laced with hope. Sam looks at you, awaiting an answer. [[🌞+ "...I suppose you can," you say, begrudgingly.|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [[🌞++ "Of course you can!"|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [["I'd rather keep it, sorry..." You like to keep your sketches.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing1][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no"]] [[🌞- "What? No." It's your drawing.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing2][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]

<<set $ch2Vol to $volatile>><<set $ch2Pat to $patient>><<set $ch2Opt to $optimistic>><<set $ch2Sar to $sarcastic>><<set $ch2Hon to $honesty>><<set $ch2Chi to $chivalrous>><<set $ch2Stu to $stubborn>><<set $ch2Col to $cold>><<set $ch2Cau to $cautious>><<set $ch2SamR to $samRelationship>> <<set $ch2Cal to $callenClose>><<set $ch2Son to $soniaClose>><div id = "subheader-text">By the end of Chapter 2: A New Arrival, you were...</div> <div id = "centre-text"><<if $volatile > 55>>More ''volatile'' than ''calm''.<<elseif $volatile < 45>>More ''calm'' than ''volatile''.<<else>>A balance of ''volatile'' and ''calm''.<</if>> <<if $patient > 54>>More ''patient'' than ''impatient''.<<elseif $patient < 46>>More ''impatient'' than ''patient''.<<else>>A balance of ''patient'' and ''impatient''.<</if>> <<if $optimistic > 53>>More ''optimistic'' than ''pessimistic''.<<elseif $optimistic < 47>>More ''pessimistic'' than ''optimistic''.<<else>>A balance of ''optimistic'' and ''pessimistic''.<</if>> <<if $cautious > 54>>More ''cautious'' than ''confident''.<<elseif $cautious < 46>>More ''cautious'' than ''confident''.<<else>>A balance of ''cautious'' and ''confident''.<</if>> <<if $cold > 57>>More ''cold'' than ''warm''.<<elseif $cold < 43>>More ''warm'' than ''cold''.<<else>>A balance of ''cold'' and ''warm''.<</if>> <<if $sarcastic > 54>>More ''sarcastic'' than ''serious''.<<elseif $sarcastic < 46>>More ''serious'' than ''sarcastic''.<<else>>A balance of ''sarcastic'' and ''serious''.<</if>> <<if $stubborn > 53>>More ''stubborn'' than ''yielding''.<<elseif $stubborn < 47>>More ''yielding'' than ''stubborn''.<<else>>A balance of ''stubborn'' and ''yielding''.<</if>> <<if $chivalrous > 53>>More ''chivalrous'' than ''dishonourable''.<<elseif $chivalrous < 47>>More ''dishonourable'' than ''chivalrous''.<<else>>A balance of ''chivalrous'' and ''dishonourable''.<</if>> <<if $honesty > 53>>More ''honest'' than ''dishonest''.<<elseif $honesty < 47>>More ''dishonest'' than ''honest.''<<else>>A balance of ''honest'' and ''dishonest''.<</if>> <<if $callenClose > 60>>''Close'' with Callen Edros.<<elseif $callenClose < 45>>''Not close'' with Callen Edros.<<else>>''Ambivalent'' towards Callen Edros.<</if>> <<if $soniaClose > 60>>''Close'' with Sonia Wierszy.<<elseif $soniaClose < 45>>''Not close'' with Sonia Wierszy.<<else>>''Ambivalent'' towards Sonia Wierszy.<</if>> [[Next|Ch2Summary2]]</div>

<div id = "subheader-text">Your major decisions...</div> <div id = "centre-text"><<if $samRomance == 1>>You ''developed feelings'' for Samuel Alban, your new neighbour.<<elseif $samRomance == 2>>You ''developed feelings'' for Samuel Alban, your new neighbour. Unbeknownst to you, the boy also has a budding crush on you.<<else>>You met your new neighbour, Samuel Alban.<</if>> Your relationship is <<if $samRelationship > 55>>''friendly''.<<elseif $samRelationship <= 54 and $samRelationship >= 46>>''cordial''.<<else>>''distant''.<</if>> <div id = "centre-text"><<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>You ''expressed fears'' that your guardian would be hurt during the duel--fears that unfortunately proved true.<<else>>You ''did not express fears'' that your guardian would be hurt during the duel. Unfortunately, you were proven wrong.<</if>> <<if $samObvTell == "yes">>Sam ''told'' you of the death of his mother, and confessed his worries and fears.<<else>>Sam ''did not'' tell you of his worries and fears.<</if>> <<if $ch2MalackRevenge == "yes">>Ser Malack's attack burned itself into your memory, and you ''swore'' a silent oath of revenge against the man.<<else>>Ser Malack's attack disturbed and frightened you, but you ''did not'' swear revenge against him.<</if>> <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You are ''excited'' about becoming a Bladeweaver.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>You are ''unsure'' about becoming a Bladeweaver.<<else>>You do ''not'' wish to be a Bladeweaver.<</if>> <<if $chap2FTKnow == "yes">>You ''heard'' a cryptic, ominous prophecy from a fortune teller. Whatever your mentor heard must have disturbed them, too.<<else>>You ''did not'' have your fortune read during the Festival of Light. <<if $ch2MentorFT == "yes">>However, your mentor ''did'', and what they heard clearly disturbed them.<<else>><</if>><</if>> ''[[These choices will fade into time, but not from memory...|Chap3Interlude]]''</div>

<div id="header-text">End of Chapter Two</div> <div id="centre-text">[[Continue|Ch2Summary]]</div>

<div id="header-text">The Times Between...</div> After the disaster at the exhibition, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen was given additional time away from his duties to help facilitate his recovery, though he had been forutnate enough to receive quick care, and has since only complained of a slight difficulty in moving around a certain way. He ended up with a thin scar, about as wide as your hand, on his ribcage. Oddly enough, it was shaped like a smile. Aunt Sonia talked endlessly of giving Ser Malack a similar scar in retribution one day, but with what you ended up hearing about him--the revocation of his knighthood and his removal from the Death Church's ranks, including the reclamation of his Corpus Aurus armour, shaming his family like none before him--she isn't likely to ever find him again. Uncle Callen convinced her that the life he was living now may well be worse than any punishment she could dole out, and that quelled her rage somewhat. He never hesitated to joke about his 'second smile', and Aunt Sonia was grateful that it couldn't talk.<<else>>Aunt Sonia was given additional time away from her duties to help facilitate her recovery, not that she stopped doing everything else she could at home--including training you. She never complained, though you could tell she was still in pain from the wound, which ended up developing into a thin scar, about as wide as your hand, on her ribcage. She talked endlessly of giving Ser Malack a similar scar in return one day, but with what you ended up hearing about him--the revocation of his knighthood and his removal from the Death Church's ranks, including the reclamation of his Corpus Aurus armour, shaming his family like none before him--she isn't likely to ever find the man again. Uncle Callen convinced her that the life he was living now may well be worse than any punishment she could dole out, and that stymied her fury, if only somewhat.<</if>> [[Next|Chap3Interlude2]]

You draw as you were taught, by a little book that teaches the very fundamentals gifted on your seventh birthday. First come the major forms, the big block that makes up the whale's body and the smaller ones that comprise its flippers and tail, and then the finer details--the ridges on the jaw, how shiny you imagine a wet whale would be, all details that are not present in Sam's rendition--to the paper, in quick succession. You bite your lip as you draw, knowing the end result won't be what Sam expects. He tries to crane his neck to look at how you're doing from time to time, but you hide the paper whenever he does. "Wait until it's done!" you chide. The boy pouts, but doesn't argue, settling down. After almost fifteen minutes of sketching, you are finally done, unfortunately. You give the paper a shake and turn it over to Sam, whose eyebrows lift once he studies it. Your stomach twists and turns. "Wow, $samNick. It's way better than mine!" He glances between your drawing and his carving, comparing them in his head. "What? You //really// like it?" You ask, confused. "I don't really know what a whale looks like, so I just..." He shrugs, "Looks whale-ish to me." He pauses a moment, thinking. "Would it be 'whale-esque'?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Whale-adjacent," is what you settle on, and you both laugh.<<else>>"I'm not sure what it'd be," you snicker. "I got it! Whale-y." Sam declares, grinning proudly. "That works."<</if>> "Could I ... keep it?" His question, sudden and quiet, is laced with hope. Sam looks at you, awaiting an answer. [[🌞+ "...I suppose you can," you say, begrudgingly.|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [[🌞++ "Of course you can!"|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [["I'd rather keep it, sorry..." You like to keep your sketches, bad as they may be.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing1][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no"]] [[🌞- "What? No." It's your drawing, bad as it may be.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing2][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]

You draw as you were taught, by a little book that teaches the very fundamentals gifted on your seventh birthday. First come the major forms, the shape of his face--the rounded curve of his jaw, the lines that will help you align his eyes, nose and mouth--and then the fine details. The slight inward tilt of his eyes, the ghost of a dimple at each corner of his mouth, carefully schooled into a neutral expression for drawing purposes. It looks so unnatural on him that you wonder if you should ask him to smile instead, but decide against it. He already looks like he's about to break at any moment, and that's after only a dozen minutes of drawing. His hair is quite easy to get through, and he giggles when he can tell you're just scrawling in big, loose circles to form the basic impression of it at first.<<if $samRomance > 0>> Every now and then, when you take a break from drawing to study his face, your eyes meet. Sam always looks away first, but it feels exciting to lock eyes with him for those precious few seconds.<<else>><</if>> Sam tries to crane his neck to look at how you're doing from time to time, but you hide the paper whenever he does. "Stay still!" You chide. The boy pouts, but doesn't argue, settling down. After almost fifteen minutes of sketching, you are finally done. You give the paper a shake and turn it over to Sam, who grins once he studies it. "I really look like that?" He giggles. You frown, somewhat defensive. "Drawing you is hard..." "Oh, I know, it's still good!" he snickers, holding it up side-by-side with his face. Like this, it's clear to see what you got wrong, and what you got right--and you got a lot more wrong than right. "Are my eyes //really// that big?" "No," you mumble, cheeks hot. "You just moved a lot..." He snickers. "I did warn you about that, $samNick." "I suppose you did." You chuckle, glad he's not focusing on your earlier boasting. What he says next is somewhat unexpected. "Could I ... keep it?" His question, sudden and quiet, is laced with hope. Sam looks at you, awaiting an answer. [[🌞+ "...I suppose you can," you say, begrudgingly.|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [[🌞++ "Of course you can!"|Chap2GiveDrawing][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2, $ch2GiveDrawing to "yes"]] [["I'd rather keep it, sorry..." You like to keep your sketches, bad as they may be.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing1][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no"]] [[🌞- "What? No." It's your drawing, bad as it may be.|Chap2DontGiveDrawing2][$ch2GiveDrawing to "no", $samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]

When you get to the door of Sam's bedroom, you spot him standing there looking confused. "I was waitin' for you!" He laughs. "Where'd you go?!" "Oh," you hesitate, "I was just talking to your father about..." you shrug, "Something." He snort-laughs, something you didn't know was possible until now. "That's //silly//." Then he shrugs. "Ah, well, I do stuff that's silly too, but maybe not as much as you!" [[This won't do. Seeing an opportunity, you rush forward and tackle Sam onto his bed.|Chap2Scene72a]] [["Well, we're both silly." You reason, laughing with him. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene72d][$volatile to $volatile - 2]] [["You're way sillier than me!" You argue, pouting. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene72e][$volatile to $volatile + 1]]

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Wc2tqgc.png"> <<nobr>><<set $currentChapter = 3>><</nobr>>//3rd of Pacen, AR 1492 (Early Autumn) - Ten Years Old// //Mage's Guild Matriclus, Sola// You wake with a start, shrugging a hand off your shoulder. You sit up from where you were leaning on the carriage's wooden panelling, and look groggily to your left while stretching your back. Archer has their hands raised in a silent apology, though their bronzed eyes study you closely. "We have almost arrived, $firstname. Would it please you to make yourself presentable?" You look down at your clothes--currently, a plush coat made for the Autumn chill--and fix yourself as best you can. "How's my hair?" You ask, looking expectantly at them. Archer hums and haws for a moment before shrugging. You're not certain they really //looked//. "I suppose it will have to do. I never thought to pack a comb today," they sigh, peering out of the carriage's tiny front window at your quickly-approaching destination. Your mentors are otherwise occupied with preparations for the imminent academic year, so you've been left in Archer's care for the day once more. It's been quite an exhausting few hours, so you took the opportunity to doze off in the carriage. A late afternoon chill has set in, one you can even feel through the thing's insulated walls. Even the excess heat dumped into the cabin from its mechanical components--helpfully pointed out by Archer without any prompt--is proving a futile match for these winds. Archer has dressed appropriately for the weather, in a richly-decorated purple coat, lined with fur on the inside that matches their gaudy hat. They've donned a stately, regal look for today, as is appropriate for a visit to the winding towers of the Mage's Guild. It's hardly as if you're dressed down, either. This getup is what you'd usually be wearing to church--<<if $mentor == "Callen">>on the rare occasion Callen is forced to go<<else>>on the odd occasion Sonia remembers to attend<</if>>. [[You grumble, "Why do I need to look nice? What do they care about me?"|Chap3Scene2a]] [["How long are we even going to be here for?" You ask. This place seems like it'll be a bore. (Patient --, Optimistic -)|Chap3Scene2b][$patient to $patient - 2, $optimistic to $optimistic - 1]] [["Is there anything interesting here?" It seems like a novel place, if it's full of mages. (Optimistic +)|Chap3Scene2c][$optimistic to $optimistic + 2]] [[You slide down in your seat, crossing your arms. This is going to be a long day. (Optimistic -)|Chap3Scene2d][$optimistic to $optimistic - 2]]

Here you are, dressed in your (almost) best for a bunch of stuffy mages who probably won't even know your //name//. It makes sense for Archer to be dressed to the twelves, but you're just ... you. They tut, "You reflect on me, as strange as it seems. It would simply not do for an archmage of the Guild to walk in with a raggedy little $child at their heel, would it?" <<if $volatile > 50>>"I'm not //raggedy!//" You protest.<<else>>You snicker. "I don't look raggedy, Archer."<</if>> "Well, no, not now," they smirk, "but have you seen yourself on most days? Sonia dearest needs to stop dressing you. The woman has no sense for fashion, much as she loves that vest of hers. I shall have to speak with her when we--" they stop themself, looking suddenly disturbed by something. <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"She //doesn't// dress me, and I'm telling her you said that," you inform them. "Oh, woe!"<<else>>"She //doesn't// dress me, but I won't tell her you said that, even though I could," you inform them. "Consider me in your debt, young $lastname."<</if>> [[Next|Chap3Scene3]]

"Not long," they breathe, seeming already tired of your complaints. That's too bad, because you aren't. "I'll hold you to that..." you mumble, crossing your arms. "I expect you to, dilligent little hellion that you are." They smile, mock-sweet, and you stick out your tongue in response. [[Next|Chap3Scene3]]

"To a child? No." They say definitively. "To a child with the wrong priorities in life, or a //quite// boring adult? I should say there is quite a lot of interest in those towers, yes." "Do they do experiments in here? Things like that?" Now that could be interesting. "//Mm//," they ponder your question for a moment. "Not the sorts of experiments that ought to be seen by young eyes, no." "You're doing a bad job of selling this place, Archer..." "I am not a salesperson. I can shatter walls with a thought--and an hour's preparation." They cross one leg over the other, smiling smugly. "I expect there is some fleeting fun to be had in there, if you are a scholar of the Risen arts, but as of late there is very little going on here, other than shallow debating and a hearty helping of lacklustre demonstrations. Much of the Guild's bulk has moved to the surface since the resurgence..." Demonstrations could mean something fun! You'll keep an open mind. [[Next|Chap3Scene3]]

"It's far too lovely a day for you to be sulky, $firstname," they chide, gesturing sarcastically to the grey afternoon outside the carriage. "I get enough of that from my colleagues." "The other mages?" They start to list points on their fingers, "The other mages, mages from the surface, the Bladeweavers, Sonia Wierszy, my other clientele, Sonia Wierszy again--such is the overwhelming force of her dourness--you get the gist." They shrug, "I spend an abundance of time around miserable clods, $firstname, people who are too //blockheaded// to have some fun with the world they inhabit. I would so hate for you to grow into somebody like that." You groan. "I just don't like it //here//." "Well," they sigh, "perhaps we will find something of interest to you, in all of your hard-to-impress splendour. The first time I saw this place, I could hardly move." "Why?" It seems an overreaction. These towers are impressive, as is the massive university they sit atop, but hardly seem worth being paralysed over. "Well, one of my circle-mates had hexed my shoes to be heavier in retribution for turning all of their food sour, but it was still an impressive sight." That makes you chuckle, and Archer smiles at their effort having worked somewhat--to your immediate chagrin. [[Next|Chap3Scene3]]

All of a sudden the carriage comes to a shuddering stop, and the driver knocks the glass with a gloved hand, rendering it more a dull thud than a sharp knock. "Well," Archer huffs, securing their coat even tighter around them, "it seems we are being //ejected//." They unlock the door on their side, quietly swinging it open, and hop out daintily. They hold a slightly curved hand out to you, inviting you to hold it on your way out. <<link "<q>Thank you.</q> It //is// quite high up, even if you're old enough to get out of a carriage yourself. You're ten! (Cautious +, Stubborn +)">><<set $cautious to $cautious + 1>><<set $stubborn to $stubborn + 1>> <<goto Chap3Scene4a>> <</link>> <<link "You smile sheepishly. <q>Thanks...</q> It's high up, and you're happy for the--quite literal--helping hand. (Cautious ++, Stubborn -)">><<set $cautious to $cautious + 2>><<set $stubborn to $stubborn - 1>> <<goto Chap3Scene4b>> <</link>> <<link "<q>Shift out of the way!</q> You whoop, leaping out of the carriage. (Cautious --)">><<set $cautious to $cautious - 2>><<goto Chap3Scene4c>> <</link>> <<link "<q>//Hup!//</q> You grab their hand, jumping out with their assistance. (Stubborn --)">><<set $stubborn to $stubborn - 2>><<goto Chap3Scene4d>> <</link>> <<link "You wave their hand away. <q>It's okay, I can do it.</q> You clamber out on your own. (Stubborn ++)">><<set $stubborn to $stubborn + 2>><<goto Chap3Scene4e>> <</link>>

You're a soon-to-be Bladeweaver Apprentice, and other children your age are becoming squires or starting their education proper. A carriage should be no problem for you, but if you have a chance to make this little thing easier, what's the harm? "You are most welcome," Archer says airily, turning with a flutter of their coat. "Let us go, with haste." [[Next|DemoEnd]]

You grip their hand, taking care not to do so too tightly, and clamber out cautiously. "Excellently done," they say airily, turning with a flutter of their coat. "Let us go, with haste." [[Next|DemoEnd]]

You grip their hand and leap out of the carriage, their arm following the arc of your fall. You feel the momentary whoosh of cold air past your ears and through your hair. You land with the crunch of gravel, and an odd tingling sensation in your ankles. That was quite the drop, but you're not hurt. You stand up proudly, hands on your hips and with a thankful look sent Archer's way. "I see athletics in your future, $firstname," they say airily, turning with a flutter of their coat. "Now, let us go with haste." [[Next|DemoEnd]]

You're a soon-to-be Bladeweaver Apprentice, and other children your age are becoming squires or starting work. A carriage is no problem for you, and you'll prove it! Archer steps out of the way, gesturing for you to get out yourself. You crouch a little, and spring forward from the carriage's open door, feeling the momentary whoosh of cold air past your ears and through your hair. You land with the crunch of gravel, and an odd tingling sensation in your ankles. That was quite the drop, but you're not hurt. You stand up proudly, hands on your hips and with a challenging look shot Archer's way. "Very athletic," they say airily, turning with a flutter of their coat. "Let us go now, before you impress everybody to death." [[Next|DemoEnd]]

You don't need help getting out of a carriage. You're capable of a great deal more than this! "Suit yourself," they rub their hands together slowly, stepping back to give you room. You clamber out, feet finding purchase on the one wooden step that's been built in to the carriage, and land with the soft crunch of gravel. Archer nods at you, turning with a flutter of their coat. "Make haste, $firstname." [[Next|DemoEnd]]

"Wow," Sam says, drawing out the sound. "It's a dog //and// a bird!" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"No," you say, giggling, "it's a wolf and a hawk."<<else>>You glower at him, unimpressed. "It's a wolf and a hawk."<</if>> "Same difference," Sam grins, but acknowledges his mistake. "So why those two? They your favourite animals, or something?" You shake your head. "They're my Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia's sigil beasts for the Order. She picked the hawk and he picked the wolf." "Why those two, then?" Sam leans forward, chin in his hands while peering at the etched beasts inside the open locket. "Well, Uncle Callen's family used the wolf for their symbol, but I'm not sure about Aunt Sonia. She's never really talked about why she picked the hawk." That really is all you know. Clan Edros, which Uncle Callen hails from, has a black wolf on a grey field as their coat of arms--you've seen the tattered surcoat in his bedroom, once--but Aunt Sonia has no heraldry to draw from: she doesn't come from nobility, nor does her last name have any meaning in any of Phanol's languages, and you've tried to figure it out. She certainly won't tell you. "I think it's nice the Weavers let you pick an animal," Sam smiles, probably imagining what //his// sigil beast would end up as, were he to join. "Imagine if they gave you what you picked, like as a pet!" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>You giggle. "That'd be hard to do. What if someone picked an elephant?" "They'd ride it into battle, obviously." He sticks his tongue out at you.<<else>>"That ... doesn't seem easy to do," you mumble. "If anyone could do it, the Weavers could!" He argues, sticking his tongue out.<</if>> "Anyway, why aren't you wearin' it?" "It's too big for me right now," you sigh. Maybe in a few years' time it won't be. Sam scrunches his nose up. "That's silly. Why get a gift you can't wear til' you're bigger?" You shrug. "I'm not sure." [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

"Aww, what?!" He protests, "You can't just tell me that an' then not show me!" "I'm only joking," you giggle, and he huffs impatiently. You finally open the locket, and show him what's inside. "Wow," Sam says, drawing out the sound. "It's a dog //and// a bird!" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"No," you say, giggling, "it's a wolf and a hawk."<<else>>You glower at him, unimpressed. "It's a wolf and a hawk."<</if>> "Same difference," Sam grins, but acknowledges his mistake. "So why those two? They your favourite animals, or something?" You shake your head. "They're my Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia's sigil beasts for the Order. She picked the hawk and he picked the wolf." "Why those two, then?" Sam leans forward, chin in his hands while peering at the etched beasts inside the open locket. "Well, Uncle Callen's family used the wolf for their symbol, but I'm not sure about Aunt Sonia. She's never really talked about why she picked the hawk." That really is all you know. Clan Edros, which Uncle Callen hails from, has a black wolf on a grey field as their coat of arms--you've seen the tattered surcoat in his bedroom, once--but Aunt Sonia has no heraldry to draw from: she doesn't come from nobility, nor does her last name have any meaning in any of Phanol's languages, and you've tried to figure it out. She certainly won't tell you. "I think it's nice the Weavers let you pick an animal," Sam smiles, probably imagining what //his// sigil beast would end up as, were he to join. "Imagine if they gave you what you picked, like as a pet!" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>You giggle. "That'd be hard to do. What if someone picked an elephant?" "They'd ride it into battle, obviously." He sticks his tongue out at you.<<else>>"That ... doesn't seem easy to do," you mumble. "If anyone could do it, the Weavers could!" He argues, sticking his tongue out.<</if>> "Anyway, why aren't you wearin' it?" "It's too big for me right now," you sigh. Maybe in a few years' time it won't be. Sam scrunches his nose up. "That's silly. Why get a gift you can't wear til' you're bigger?" You shrug. "I'm not sure." [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

He falls silent, before his eyes light up. "Oh, it is!" He gives you an awe-filled smile. "That's clever! Are there two music players in there?" You nod, "I think so. That's Pacen," you say, pointing to the bright figure, "and that's Belrom." You move your finger to the darker figure, with the silver hair. "I know Pacen, their Risen City's in Abria." Sam says idly, studying the intricately-painted figure who spins with their song. "I didn't know Belrom looked like that, though. I guess it makes sense, bein' a war god. She's scary..." You let the Song of War and Peace play for another minute, before gently shutting the box. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

"Oh, it is!" He gives you an awe-filled smile. "That //is// clever! Are there two music players in there?" You nod, "I think so. That's Pacen," you say, pointing to the bright figure, "and that's Belrom." You move your finger to the darker figure, with the silver hair. "I know Pacen, their Risen City's in Abria." Sam says idly, studying the intricately-painted figure who spins with their song. "I didn't know Belrom looked like that, though. I guess it makes sense, bein' a war god. She's scary..." You let the Song of War and Peace play for another minute, before gently shutting the box. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

"Yep!" He chirps, still holding his hand out for the knife. You let him take it, curious. "This's really nice, $samNick." He glances up at you, eyes wrinkled with a thrilled smile. "I haven't been able to do tricks for //ages//. Nobody on the boat'd let me borrow theirs!" He stands up then, holding the knife with a loose grip, before suddenly balancing its tip on one of his fingers. He stares in concentration, tongue peeking from between his lips as his arm wobbles--but the knife stays in place, swaying slightly. He flicks his wrist upwards, and turns once before catching the wooden weapon by its handle as it drops. "How are you--" "Watch this," he grins, as his fingers begin to twist around, sending the wooden knife spinning between them with a silky-smooth quickness. You had no idea Sam could do //this//. "Are you--" "Some older kids showed me," he says simply, still twisting the thing around in his fingers like it's made of fabric and not hard wood. "I can even throw 'em sorta good, but I haven't done that for a //looong// time." [["Could you show me how to do it?"|Chap2ShowKnife1a]] [[Well, that's nice, but you'd rather he put the knife away now. You don't want it getting damaged.|Chap2ShowKnife1b]]

"Yeah, definitely!" He grins, "But first, watch this..." He stands up then, holding the knife with a loose grip, before suddenly balancing its tip on one of his fingers. He stares in concentration, tongue peeking from between his lips as his arm wobbles--but the knife stays in place, swaying slightly. He flicks his wrist upwards, and turns once before catching the wooden weapon by its handle as it drops. "How are you--" "Watch this," he grins, as his fingers begin to twist around, sending the wooden knife spinning between them with a silky-smooth quickness. You had no idea Sam could do //this//. "How are you doing it so quickly?" "Some older kids showed me," he says simply, still twisting the thing around in his fingers like it's made of fabric and not hard wood. "I can even throw 'em sorta good, but I haven't done that for a //looong// time." [["Could you show me how to do it now?"|Chap2ShowKnife2a]] [[On second thought, you'll put the knife away. You don't want to accidentally damage it.|Chap2ShowKnife2b]]

"Let's see them, then," you say smugly, eyes narrowed as Sam gently pulls the knife out from the box, turning it over in his hands a few times. "This's really nice, $samNick." He glances up at you, eyes wrinkled with a thrilled smile. "I haven't been able to do tricks for //ages//. Nobody on the boat'd let me borrow theirs!" He stands up then, holding the knife with a loose grip, before suddenly balancing its tip on one of his fingers. He stares in concentration, tongue peeking from between his lips as his arm wobbles--but the knife stays in place, swaying slightly. He flicks his wrist upwards, and turns once before catching the wooden weapon by its handle as it drops. "How are you--" "Watch this," he grins, as his fingers begin to twist around, sending the wooden knife spinning between them with a silky-smooth quickness. You had no idea Sam could do //this//. "Are you--" "Some older kids showed me," he says simply, still twisting the thing around in his fingers like it's made of fabric and not hard wood. "I can even throw 'em sorta good, but I haven't done that for a //looong// time." [["Could you show me how to do it?"|Chap2ShowKnife3a]] [[Well, that's nice, but you'd rather he put the knife away now. You don't want it getting damaged.|Chap2ShowKnife3b]]

"Oh, yes!" Sam beams at you. "It'd be like me passin' the art on, or something. Here, stand up." He tugs on your arm, tugging you halfway up before you can even move yourself. He moves in close,<<if $samRomance > 0>> and you reflexively move back a bit, butterflies in your stomach.<<else>> and you quirk an eyebrow.<</if>> "I need to show you, $samNick." He chuckles at your reaction, "Now look at my hands, I'm gonna show you a simple spin first." You look at your knife in his hand, where he manoeuvres it into a regular grip. Then, he lets go of it with all his fingers but the pointer and thumb, before using his thumb to slowly push it around the outside of his hand, keeping the thing balanced on his knuckles. It's quickly spun back around into a regular grip. "Here, now you try it!" So you do, quite a few times. You don't seem destined for a career in knife tricks, it seems. You really wanted to be good at this, like Sam apparently is. <<if $patient < 50>>"It's not //working//," you grumble. "Are you sure this is the way you were doing it?"<<else>>You furrow your brow and concentrate on getting it right. This has to be the way he was doing it.<</if>> "Just keep tryin', $samNick. It took me a year before I could do some of the stuff you saw." Eventually you do manage it, and Sam whoops with joy. He claps your hand, forgetting the knife is in it and hurting his palm a bit. "Worth it," he chuckles. After another few minutes of practise, you put the knife back in its box. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

"Oh, that's fine! Thanks for letting me do some tricks, anyway," he smiles, handing you the knife back for you to put it back in the box. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

"Oh, I thought you wanted to try some tricks? Maybe some other time?" "Sounds good," you reason. "Thanks for letting me do some tricks, anyway," he smiles, handing you the knife back for you to put it back in the box. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

"Oh, yes!" Sam beams at you. "It'd be like me passin' the art on, or something. Here, stand up." He tugs on your arm, tugging you halfway up before you can even move yourself. He moves in close,<<if $samRomance > 0>> and you reflexively move back a bit, butterflies in your stomach.<<else>> and you quirk an eyebrow.<</if>> "I need to show you, $samNick." He chuckles at your reaction, "Now look at my hands, I'm gonna show you a simple spin first." You look at your knife in his hand, where he manoeuvres it into a regular grip. Then, he lets go of it with all his fingers but the pointer and thumb, before using his thumb to slowly push it around the outside of his hand, keeping the thing balanced on his knuckles. It's quickly spun back around into a regular grip. "Here, now you try it!" So you do, quite a few times. You don't seem destined for a career in knife tricks, it seems. <<if $patient < 50>>"It's not //working//," you grumble. "Are you sure this is the way you were doing it?"<<else>>You furrow your brow and concentrate on getting it right. This has to be the way he was doing it.<</if>> "Just keep tryin', $samNick. It took me a year before I could do some of the stuff you saw." Eventually you do manage it, and Sam whoops with joy. He claps your hand, forgetting the knife is in it and hurting his palm a bit. "Worth it," he chuckles. After another few minutes of practise, you put the knife back in its box. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

"Oh, that's fine! Thanks for letting me do some tricks, anyway," he smiles, handing you the knife back for you to put it back in the box. [[Next|Chap2ShowGiftEnd]]

As you got older, the way you saw the two of them began to change. First, they were no longer 'Uncle Callen' and 'Aunt Sonia'. There were a number of reasons for the change, partly motivated by their own wishes. It would not do for you to slip up at the Academy, embarrassing yourself before your peers. That sort of thing is important, apparently, even at the age of ten. They are still family to you--adoptive or otherwise, but practicality called for the change. <<if $cyclingchoice == 0>><<cycle "$chap3Mature" autoselect>><<option "Even if a small part of you missed the familiarity, the ... childishness of the term. It's a reminder that you're leaving your childhood behind, however slowly." "yes">> <<option "You were glad for the change. It makes you feel older, as if you're their equal--on a first name basis!" "no">><</cycle>><<else>><<listbox "$chap3Mature" autoselect>> <<option "Even if a small part of you missed the familiarity, the ... childishness of the term. It's a reminder that you're leaving your childhood behind, however slowly" "yes">> <<option "You were glad for the change. It makes you feel older, as if you're their equal--on a first name basis!" "no">> <</listbox>><</if>> Now, Uncle Callen is just Callen, and Aunt Sonia is just Sonia--or Master Sonia, if you're getting on her nerves. [[Next|Chap3Interlude2.5]]

Your dreams, the strange ones that seem more memory than imagination, always come on the full moon. They are hazy, poorly-remembered when you wake, not that you are able to put them into words. In them, you see hard-fought battles, the forging of loyalties and a budding love. It is like some ancient tale of heroes, playing out before your very eyes. //[[This one stands out in particular, though...|Chap3Interlude4]]

//"Druso ... ''Kenis''." Efinia clumsily mutters, sat ahead of you in the saddle of your mount. Your hands rest near her hips, clutching the reins loosely. "Wrong." Efinia spins her head around, scowling. Her hair whips you across the cheek slightly, and you grunt in surprise. Her eyes widen for a split-second in concern, but quickly narrow again. You spot her frown curve upwards, amused, just after. She isn't capable of staying properly angry at you, it seems. "And how might I be wrong, sweeting?" "I recall asking you ''not'' to call me that outside of our tent." "I would be happy to oblige, ''sweeting'', if you teach instead of saying 'wrong' all the time." You jab her in the side with your thumb, and she squeaks involuntarily. "You overpronounce my mat-name. ''Kennis'' is a word that does not exist. Try ''key-neez''. ''Druzzo'', and then ''Key-neez'', if you wish to say the whole of it." "I can hardly believe you've let me pronounce it wrong for this long. The nerve on you," she teases. "Perhaps you should have listened to others, hm?" "Nobody ''refers'' to you, sweeting. They merely nod and ... look unnerved in your general direction. Some of them actually call you 'the Wall', did you know that?" You sneer. "I ''hate'' monikers." It has only been two months at most since you first laid eyes on her, and already she feels as if she has been with you for a decade. How quickly things change--and not just the people around you. The land has changed too. Gone are the rolling hills and bountiful forests of the north, split by powerful rivers. Now you traverse the desert, heading ever southward towards Rion's envisioned paradise. [[Next|Chap3Interlude5]]

//She huffs, leaning back against you a little. "Well, perhaps one day you'll have the moniker of 'language tutor'." Your smile is small and private. "Did you at all consider finding a mount of your own for today? I am thankful for the company, though I took you for a ... capable rider." She smacks your arm, blushing under her veil, then looks forward to peer at the amassed crowds that watch your progress through this small dusty town. You can't even remember its name--though Rion surely will. "I mislike the way some have looked at me, alone on my own mount, in the past. You are a great many things, Druso, but you are an effective deterrent first and foremost." "Do not expect me to thank you for that compliment." You mutter, before growing quiet. "Efi, you need only point me towards the ones who look at you, and their eyes will no longer burden them." She laughs. "Such times are rarer and rarer these days, and I would not have you kill for me, as tempting as the offer is." You lean down and kiss her shoulder, covered with a thick dress to cope with the arid heat, and whisper in her ear, "It is a promise, not an offer, ''sweeting''." [[There's commotion ahead.|Chap3Interlude6]]

//The crowd has amassed around the front of the cavalcade, where Rion rides. You tilt your body to look around Efinia, and see their other guards form a circle, their shields painted with the rising-bird symbol of Rion--the Sunbird. There's shouting, and the guards start to push back any who get too close, before a voice you recognise sounds out. "Let them be." It is Rion's voice, unmistakable in its calm, lyrical silkiness. "Efi, would you--" "Of course," she quickly answers, swinging her leg over and seeming to glide to the ground from your saddle. She looks up at you with a smile as your mount trots away with a squeeze of your legs, closer to the commotion. Rion turns their head slightly to watch your approach, their wings hidden by some inexplicable illusion. They grin warmly as you come up next to them, the guards parting to make way for you and the crowd shuffling back in fear--these people know the Sunbird, and look upon Rion with a shocked reverence. They know you too, but it is a decidedly different feeling in their eyes as they see you. "Having fun back there?" Rion mutters once you come to stop, expression carefully schooled into one of cheerful nonchalance. "You still complain? There are eight guards around you at any given moment, Rion..." You whisper back. Their shoulders roll, and you can imagine their wings fluttering haughtily, were they visible. "None of them are you." "Mm, well," you grunt, smirking. "That's quite a difficult thing to achieve." Their golden eyes roll, amused, before they speak to the crowd again. "You block the way, friends. Might I ask why?" "Sunbird! ''Paii t'Lios!''" Some of them shout, voices edging on desperation, providing no answer. It feels like you're the only one in the world who knew them as Rion first, so it's no surprise that their reaction to the names is one of familiarity. "You know of me, but I am at a disadvantage. Your names?" As they speak, Rion gracefully slides from their saddle, almost floating to the ground with nary a speck of dust raised by their landing. The ragged onlookers seem shocked at their approach, almost cowering--partly because Rion's guard follows them tightly, and partly from shock. "Please, please," Rion lifts their hands calmingly, "you need not be afraid." They turn their head, glancing at you and the rest of the guards, a silent message in their shimmering eyes; ''stay back''. [[Next|Chap3Interlude7]]

//Later...// <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I knew it was gonna be busy, but this's takin' the mick, eh, $callenChild?"<<else>>"You think we'll be missed if we just turn around and go home?" Aunt Sonia asks flatly.<</if>> The walk from your home to the Sola's city centre was much longer than usual, buffeted by the sheer volume of the crowds spread through the streets, most built far too narrowly to accommodate a populace this massive. You are surrounded, on all sides, by activity. Groups of friends, families, even just //individuals//, milling about with a seeming aimlessness. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen's having some trouble keeping from bumping into people, apologising with a friendly clap on the shoulder and a smile.<<else>>Aunt Sonia scowls at anybody who gets too close, lending you a surprising amount of space.<</if>> Far in the horizon is the black-and-silver spire of the Bladeweavers' Citadel, a tower of cracked stone built inside and around an ancient arena, thought to have been created when Sola might have sat in the ground below. Another jutting shape, weathered stone draped with various banners and flags, must surely be the arena for today's exhibition, where events like a tournament with jousting and other physical competitions will take place. Of course, the exhibition will occur at the end of everything else as a display of support from the Bladeweavers to the Empyrean church, the primary backer of today's festivities. [["How much longer?" You whine. (Patient --)|Chap2Scene94d][$patient to $patient - 4]] [["Have you been to anything as big as this before?" You ask.|Chap2Scene94e]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Oh, plenty, $callenChild," he flashes you a grin. "When I was yer age, we'd hold a festival this size every year--not for any God or reason, just for the bleedin' //love// of bein' together. It covered the whole island, every city, every little fishin' port." He sighs, taking a moment. "S'not to say these types of things ain't nice, but there bein' twelve Gods muddies the waters, a bit..." "So you don't like festivals for the Twelve?" He laughs. "I'm not sayin' that, $callenChild. Only, they ain't so important to my people, an' we didn't celebrate 'em before the Church came. I attend the ones I have to, like this, but I have me fun in other ways, these days. Too old t'be partyin' about like these lot," he chuckles, gesturing to the festivalgoers around you.<<else>>"As a Weaver? Quite a few, yeah." Aunt Sonia starts counting on her fingers. "There's the few //we've// been to--but they shouldn't count. Most all of the festivals I've been to have been part of my duty. Back home, they didn't do anything like this. There was never time, never..." She looks off to the side a moment, staring at the walls of some building as it passes. "There was never much reason, truth be told." She attempts to smile as she looks back at you. "But there's plenty of that now, what with you in the mix."<</if>> <<if $chap2Fair == "no">>You hum noncommittally. If she's happy...<<else>>You return her smile, more enthusiastically. "Yes!"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene95b]]

After some more waiting<<if $patient < 50>> (and a not-insignificant amount of grumbling from you)<<else>>,<</if>> the crowd finally begins to filter through into the city's central plaza: a wide, expansive area with few buildings that's been absolutely crammed with attractions and tents of all sorts for the festival. //Before// that, though, you've been informed that a ceremony is to take place at the very heart of the plaza, outside the City Hall's expansive doors. Like the Bladeweavers' Citadel, it is built within an ancient arena, with many of its rooms repurposed for 'political drudgery' as Archer calls it. Attending is hardly the most exciting prospect, as even as you walk by you spot dozens of potential attractions. A fortune-teller, really? There are even performance tents set up, where flashes of wild colours burst from within: a tell-tale sign of a light-show. Larger sections of the plaza have been boxed out for contests, too, whereone may test their physical prowess. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia might have liked to try those, it's a pity she isn't here.<<else>>Uncle Callen might have liked to try those, it's a pity he isn't here.<</if>> Massive white flags bearing a blazing golden sun flutter in the sparse wind, hung high above your head on posts and the sides of buildings. They're often flanked by the flag of Telfrin--half-red, half-black, with a similar-but-distinct golden sun on the left and a crimson eagle carrying a sceptre on the right. A golden crown sits in the centre of the flag, uniting the other two symbols under one authority. A majority of Telfrin's populace worship Sola and, by extension, the entire Pantheon of Light that He is considered the head of. The Bladeweavers are considered a religious institution with close ties to the Empyrean Church, so you're relentlessly drilled on the different Gods and which 'group' they belong to. As far as you know, there are just the two Pantheons, that of Light and Shade. Sola, of the sun and light, heads up the former while His opposite, calm moonlit Noctome, is worshipped as the figurehead of the latter in countries like Vengard and, more recently, the Abrian Empire. Abria, with their relatively recent conquering of some of Telfrin's northernmost territories, now also more closely favour Gelor, God of the Cold, who also belongs to the Pantheon of Shade. With tensions rising between Vengard and Abria, the former has begun to shift its focus to other Gods, such as Ventol, Goddess of Winds. Some Gods, like Belrom and Aquonar, of war and water respectively, are rarely attributed to either pantheon owing to the chaotic nature of their worship. Though, Aquonar's distance from any pantheon is in part due to the Risen City of Aquonar's actual physical distance from the continent of Phanol, too--it is located in far-off Liskiya to the east, an entire ocean away. Due to stigma surrounding the ocean's deep-blue depths, She is not an overly popular goddess here, nor is she in the land Her city resides in. However, that is for entirely different reasons. Liskiya is regarded by many as a heretical land, where Fallen live freely and worship their own prophets with strange-sounding names, like //Paii//... something. You can't really remember, it's not as if Liskiya's customs are something you're taught very much about in the first place. [[Next|Chap2Scene96b]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen crosses his arms. "As long as it takes, $callenChild. Not much longer, now, we just need t'get past this crowd an' then we'll be in the festival proper." You groan. "That isn't an answer." "Well, I ain't been blessed with omniscience yet, $callenChild, so that's all the answer I can bestow upon ye." <<if $callenClose > 50>>"You're talking funny," you snicker.<<else>>"Stop talking like that, all //funny//," you frown.<</if>> "Well, I've got to!" He chuckles, "I need me practise for when I'll be conversin' with all the high an' mighty lords today, once yer Aunt Sonia wins this thing. D'you think they'll be able to understand me, as I am?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"//I// can barely understand you, Uncle Callen, and I've known you my whole life!"<<else>>"Mmm..." you hum, "maybe?"<</if>> "Ye're too unkind to me, $callenChild," he sighs. [[Next|Chap2Scene95b]]

You come to a stop once another crowd gathers, this time around a large stand built before the doors to the City Hall. The frenzied chatter of what likely amounts to more than a thousand attendees buzzes in your ears almost painfully. Thankfully, a loud ringing from the building above seems to quiet the tumult, and a sudden silence passes over the gathered crowd. A rising cacophany of shrill trumpets comes next, shocking anyone left speaking into silence. "What's going on?" You ask <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen. "Mayor's makin' a speech before things kick off." He whispers.<<else>>Aunt Sonia. She stoops a little to mutter, "Mister Mayor himself's gonna big his sponsors up and waste our time for a bit. Buckle up," she sighs.<</if>> It's moments later that you would have found out had you not asked, when a booming, authoritative voice reverberates through the packed plaza, echoing down the narrow, winding streets beyond. "Gathered friends, visitors and dignitaries of all stations--domestic or otherwise." the voice, a man's, echoes around the space, amplified by some unseen source. By craning your neck you can spot the speaker, a thin man in a relatively drab-looking getup, at least compared to those around him: what look like various magicians and guards, dressed as a festival for a god would demand of them. "I bid you a warm welcome to our haven high in the sky, no matter your creed or country. All are welcome beneath Sola's rays on this day. Our errant Gods might not walk this earth, yet we can be assured we are doing Them proud with examples such as this." This tall man must be Mayor Faibal, leader of Sola's city-state. He speaks with a gentle adroitness, a practiced ease that must have been honed through hours of rehearsal beforehand. He has a thoughtful look about him, with a square face and angular features that hardly seem to move as he speaks. One might not even know how he felt in a moment, because his face would betray practically nothing. You imagine that might be helpful in the world of politics, <<if $volatile > 50>>and make a mental note not to try to get involved in the future, with how expressive you can be.<<else>>and make a mental note to consider it in the future, with how calm you can come across.<</if>> You chuckle to yourself at the thought of you getting into //politics// of all things, and can only imagine what Aunt Sonia would say. [[Next|Chap2Scene97b]]

Mayor Faibal takes a breath, hands folded at his front, hidden beneath the flowing sleeves of his well-fitted robe. "It is important that, on beautiful days such as these, the true purpose of the festivals we hold is not forgotten. The Twelve, in their wisdom, sealed a great evil away in the time before history was recorded, and we await Their return still. This solstice shall bestow us with a boon of Sola's light, and the renewal of that ancient promise. May The Twelve return, in the form of the Ascendant: Many who are One." Once he finishes, a muttered "Many who are One" spreads through the crowd, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>and Aunt Sonia even murmurs the words too, though not with much conviction.<<else>>though Uncle Callen says nothing at all.<</if>> Ahead of you, somebody snorts quietly. A tall man, with reddish-brown hair and a pointed beard that sprouts only from his chin, shushes him. "Alain, do stop it!" The shorter man, Alain, rolls his brown eyes. "Do you really think he believes a word of it, Gilles? I'm sure that speech was practically //written// by the crown, if not personally handed to him by the King..." "You two speak as if we are not surrounded by ears, you damnable fools." A lady, simply dressed save for a sparkling brooch depicting a rearing goat upon her chest, huffs. "I should think my husband would know better than to gossip in the open." Alain chuckles condescendingly. "I do apolgise, //beloved//. Tell me, Gilles. What do you think of the festival, then? Anything like this in the north?" "Such a wonderful display, isn't it?" Gilles smirks cheekily, playing into his companion's mockery. "Indeed, though one must wonder how much of it came from the King's coffers. He doesn't even attend these bloody things." That makes his wife huff again, staring daggers at her husband. "His Majesty may do with his gold as he sees fit, as you well know." She responds coolly. "Do come off it, Marie. We're not in court anymore." The tall man rolls his eyes. "I suppose if //wise// Thibau believes these displays will further Telfrini splendour, then they're a worthy expense. What other reason would he have for eschewing worship of the Shaded Five when every accepted text promotes dodecatheism?" Alain shrugs. "Well, he's certainly hedged his bets with Sola. Get enough people worked up about one God and they'll rip anyone who prefers another to pieces. That's usually how it goes..." Alain hums. "Even their supposed allies in Shade-following nations, hm?" Marie looks discomforted. "We shall speak no more of this, you two." With that, they shuffle away, seeming to merge into the gaudy crowd altogether. You turn to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia, wondering if she caught any of that, but she seems distracted by something.<<else>>Uncle Callen, wondering if he caught any of that, but he seems distracted by something.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene98b]]

"Before you all engage in today's revelry, of which I am assured there is an abundance of," Mayor Faibal pauses to smile as light, polite laughter spreads through the crowd, "I must first give thanks to a special few, who have seen fit to lend their support for today's most sacred goings-on." Mayor Faibal lifts his right hand, beckoning a few unfamiliar figures up to the stage with him. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia snorts derisively, and you glance at her in confusion before seeing who it is that's appeared beside the mayor.<<else>>Uncle Callen hums in thought, and you glance at him in confusion before seeing who it is that's appeared beside the mayor.<</if>> "Who's that?" You ask, intrigued by the reaction. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"A major headache, is what she is." Aunt Sonia sighs.<<else>>"The most terrifying lady that ain't my mother I ever saw, $callenChild." Uncle Callen mutters.<</if>> A severe-looking woman, much older-looking than even Uncle Callen, appears beside him. Her hair, worn in a simple, long braid and streaked more grey than gold, seems to frame her scrutinous face without covering any of her pinched features. She wears a thin, silken cloak atop a dress that seems more like armour than a piece of fashion, wrought from dark mail and ornately-patterned damask, silver-green and blood-red. A pair of wicked-looking Empyrean sickles hang from her hip. "Mistress Enota, Grandmaster of the Bladeweavers' Order, has pledged the finest Bladeweaver Knights of her own choosing as security for this most important of days, as well as one of their finest warriors, to fight a mystery opponent in today's exhibitonary due!" For the first time, Mayor Faibal smiles, and this scary-looking Grandmaster flashes him a coolly appreciative look. "Isn't she the leader of the Order in Sola?" You ask. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Thankfully, not for long." Aunt Sonia replies, glaring at the far-off lady. "Just until Grandmaster Abraham comes back from his travels. You remember Abe, don't you?"<<else>>"Only for a little while, $callenChild." Uncle Callen replies, turning his narrowed eyes from her to you. "The leader of Sola's chapter is off travellin' Vengard, I believe. D'you remember him, $callenChild? Abraham's his name. We visited him once, when y'were littler."<</if>> You do remember somebody like that, only vaguely. He looked at you with a sort of //excitement// in his dark eyes, and Aunt Sonia was fairly cold with him, even though he'd just been congratulating her on becoming a Master. [[You shrug, avoiding the question. "I don't really remember him."|Chap2Scene99b]] [[You turn your nose up. "He was really strange." (Honesty +)|Chap2Scene99c][$honesty to $honesty + 1]] [[You shrug. He was really strange, but you're not about to say that. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene99c][$honesty to $honesty - 1]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He laughs. "Ha! Well, that's one way to put it. Old Abe's simple in his ways, but shrewd as any Weaver that gets where he got. Wish I'd known that when I was startin' out..." He says with a sigh. "In fact, ye owe yer future place in the Order to him, in a way."<<else>>She laughs at your response. "I guess he is, but I've never met anyone as boring." She pauses, thinking about something, before apparently making a decision. "He's the one who let us keep you, you know. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't made that decision. It's strange, really, how all this comes together." She looks wistful, if that's the right word for it.<</if>> You furrow your brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Well--" he sputters for a moment, clearly not having intended to say that, "it's a long time ago now, but old Abe managed to convince the others in the Order to let us take you to ward. Alternative was ye'd end up somewhere on the surface, $callenChild. Ain't ya happy ye ended up here, eh?" He smiles cheekily. <<if $callenClose <= 45>>"Dunno," you shrug, equally as cheekily, "it might be good down there without you." He chuckles. "Me heart bleeds, $callenChild. Such a venomous little thing y'are."<<else>>You nod quickly. "Yeah..."<</if>><<else>>"A long time ago, back when your Uncle Callen could stand up straight, Grandmaster Abraham was convinced to let us take you as a ward, though at cost to us. That's how you ended up with me and Cal, kid." "Really?" You gape, shocked. "I thought maybe--" "You were dropped off by a stork, or given passage like some fairytale? Sorry, kid, you're not nearly sweet enough to be like those little $child<<nobr>>s<</nobr>> from your books." She smirks, and you <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>look shocked at her insult, but giggle.<<else>>frown at her insult, even as she laughs at your response.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene100b]]

<<set $ch2MentorFT to "no">>"And, of course," the monotone mayor continues, "Sola's representatives from the Empyrean Church, who so diligently maintain the Sun God's temple in this very city, are our honoured guests this day, among many others from Telfrin's great houses. Though, I must bring word from one in particular: Lord Darion, of the most-revered house Maren, regrets his absence today. The good Lord pledges a boon to our city's great temple in the stead of his much-missed presence. May Sola keep him warm and safe, eternal." A flurry of hushed murmuring spreads through the crowd, brought to life by mention of that particular lord. It seems that, now the speech is over, everyone feels content to get moving. You stick close to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> as you try to find your way through the crowd. It's when you end up queueing behind a trio of nobles, not the same as before but certainly equally as well-dressed, that yet more gossip fills your unwitting ears. "I had never known Lord Darion as anything other than a good man, and a kind steward of his people. To sire a bastard in secret..." Says a darker-skinned man, with gold-and-silver rings adoring the long threads of his thick hair. "The heart wants what it wants, I suppose. It's a small cruelty, really. Bastards rarely do well at court, especially the girls." A tall lady, wearing a silken headdress, breathes airily. She's so pale she almost glows in the sunlight. "But to hide it away for ten years ... What do you think made him change his mind?" A third questions, more curiosity than genuine concern in their amber-brown eyes, which are surrounded by tiny glittering gemstones that twinkle as the light catches them. "Lady Peima just had her second child, did she not? Perhaps he felt //guilty//." The lady replies, with barely-disguised disdain for this Lord Maren. "I hear the girl's mother had recently passed." "How terrible..." "And the child's name ... Talia, was it?" "Indeed." "Talia, Bastard of House Maren ... may she have the strength to survive court." The dark-skinned man whistles. The gathered nobles share a morose chuckle as <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's fists clench tightly.<<else>>Uncle Callen makes a barely-audible sound of disapproval.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene101b]]

Once the speech has finished proper, some attendees depart--though it is barely a drop of water taken from a very, very large lake. The plaza is //packed//, though you can still see plenty of things to do. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, kid." Aunt Sonia bumps your shoulder with her knuckles, "it's your pick. We're not painting my face, though."<<else>>"C'mon, $callenChild." Uncle Callen smiles down at you. "What do ye want to do first?"<</if>> There are a few tents that seem like they'd be fun to take a look at, as well as some other attractions that appeal to your young self. With that in mind... <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0>>[[You head towards the fortune teller's tent, marked with a bright blue eye.|Chap2FortuneTeller][$chap2FortuneTeller to 1]]<<else>><</if>> /*<<if $chap2ArcheryTent == 0>>[[An area sectioned off for archery competition catches your eye.|Chap2Archery][$chap2ArcheryTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2StrengthTest == 0>>[[You decide to try your hand at a strength test: the classic hammer and bell.|Chap2StrengthTest][$chap2StrengthTest to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2LightShow == 0>>[[That tent flashing with brilliant light you saw before seems interesting.|Chap2LightShow][$chap2LightShow to 1]]<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2MagicTent== 0>>[[A big purple tent, adorned with gold, gets your attention. It looks like a mage's tent.|Chap2MagicTent][$chap2MagicTent to 1]]<<else>><</if>>*/ [[That's all for now. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105b]]

//Rion approaches one person in particular: a shivering man, scarred and ragged with a missing hand. He trembles and falls to his knees as they come closer, following his descent by kneeling with him. "Your name?" They ask, whisper-quiet with a soft, reassuring smile. "I a-am Sevos," the man responds quickly, locking eyes with Rion. "Sevos'Nara! Please, S-Sunbird. We have nothing, we can only beg for--" "You need not beg. Where is your leader? Have you a representative, some form of council?" Rion stands, looking around inquisitively. "The dimarch!" Someone else in the crowd spits at the ground in a gesture of disrespect, and your shoulders tense reflexively. "He consorts with the ''Stonefist'', lets those monsters raid our homes in exchange for his own safety!!" They point at a large, pale white fortress on a nearby hill, surrounded by walls and tents. "Stonefist's men took Sevos' hand, and yet more than that!" The Stonefist. A name that creases your brow. This is not the first time you have heard it, and you expect it won't be the last. He is a ferocious warlord, based in the very centre of the desert. By all accounts he should be a mere triviality, yet every place you have passed through has mentioned him and his forces, laying waste to settlements and taking any strong fighter that they come across. Rion considers those words, and the words of others who have begun to shout their own pleas before striding over to you. "Druso," they whisper, "would you be so kind as to send word down the caravan? We shall stay for the night, perhaps two. Set our fighting forces up around the town's perimeter, and have them on their guard. Speak to our quartermaster and see that they are fed well for their toil. Buy from the local establishments if necessary." Your eyes narrow as a sigh builds in your chest. "We cannot afford this delay, Rion," you warn them. "Trying to help every dustbowl we come across will only hinder our efforts to get across this desert, and put us ever closer to encountering this Stonefist." "I will not ignore this," they say somberly. "What good is power if not for the act of service to others?" "You are ... impossible," you grunt. "But very well. I will see to it. //One night//, Rion. This place cannot support the amount of people we have." "Perhaps," they smirk teasingly, "the opposite can be true." They turn abruptly, speaking once more to the crowd, leaving you with nothing else to say and a stunned look on your face. "Take me to this dimarch! I would have many a word with him." They are followed by their Winged Guard, each specially picked by you once Rion had gathered a following. Each of them are extraordinarily capable, but you still feel unease at leaving Rion in a place like this. As if reading your thoughts, Efinia comes to your side, stroking your bare arm softly. "It cannot be helped. Let the Sunbird do what they do best, and let us help make everybody else more comfortable." Your expression softens. "You are much too convincing, Efi. Could you put that to use, and speak with Quartermaster Naius? I fear he does not like me very much." "Of course I could," she adjusts the veil on her head that protects her from the sun, beaming through the transparent material at you. "Though I think you simply like to be convinced, Dru-''zz'-o," she says, putting extra emphasis on the ''z''. You snort and turn with her, shouting out orders while she splits away to speak with the quartermaster, further down the caravan. [[Later...|Chap3Interlude8]]

A distant tolling of bells and a blaring announcement that comes from everywhere and nowhere grabs your collective attention. "''The Exhibition of Sun's Strength will shortly commence. All who wish to attend, and bear witness to performances from these most skilled practitioners, please make way to the Helaic Colosseum.''" "Helaic?" you ask, confused. It's not a word you're familiar with. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"S'just a fancy name for the biggest arena, is all." Uncle Callen lifts an arm and points to a large mass of darkish stone on the near horizon. "That's where we're headed, $callenChild."<<else>>"That," Aunt Sonia points to a large mass of darkish stone on the near horizon, "is the Helaic Colosseum. That's our next stop, kid. I think the name has something to do with it being the biggest arena."<</if>> <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 0 and $chap2ArcheryTent == 0 and $chap2StrengthTest == 0 and $chap2LightShow == 0 and $chap2FoodTent == 0 and $chap2MagicTent == 0>>On the way there, your mentor enquires about you having not actually //done// much at all, but you shrug. It all seemed boring!<<else>>The two of you make your way there, with haste given that you've spent time at the tents.<</if>> Making your way to the colosseum is relatively easy, made even more so by the guardsmen posted through the streets that usher the crowds along. The gold-tinged feathers that jut from their helms gleam in the sunlight, and you can spy the odd drop of sweat dripping from under their visors, which only cover their eyes to reveal an impassive glower. They must not be happy to work in this heat. The massive, millenia-old building looms over you as you approach, sending a curious chill down your neck. You shuffle into one of several dozen queues that span the perimeter of the arena and likely beyond. This particular line leads to an entrance adorned with a sign decorated with the word ''Premier''. All you can do to shield yourself from the unrepentant sun is to cover your eyes with your hands and sigh uncomfortably. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen notices this, and squeezes your shoulder soothingly. "We'll be in a shaded area, $callenChild. I reckon they'll have somethin' to drink for us //esteemed guests//, too." Well, that's //some// consolation.<<else>>Aunt Sonia notices this, and shuffles to stand in the way of the sun so you stop having to shield yourself. "Don't you tell anyone about this. If people find out I've well and truly gone soft, I'll lose all my standing."<</if>> When you reach the front of the queue, a pair of guards step forward with an official-looking man, dressed simply save for a gem-accented sun icon, blazing across the front of his tunic. "Premier attendance of the exhibitionary displays runs the cost of sixteen eagles each." He pauses, looking at you. "Half that, for the child, of course." He adds with a practised smile. [["Do you even know who this is?!" You blurt out, shocked that he wouldn't recognise your mentor. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene106a1][$volatile to $volatile + 1]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Look nervously up at Aunt Sonia. You're certain she didn't bring that much money. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene106b1][$volatile to $volatile - 2]]<<else>>[[Look nervously up at Uncle Callen. You're certain he didn't bring that much money. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene106b1][$volatile to $volatile - 2]]<</if>> [[Hold your tongue. There's probably a solution here that doesn't involve pushing this snooty-looking man out of the way and sprinting into the arena. Probably. (Patient +)|Chap2Scene106c1][$patient to $patient + 1]]

<<set $ch2MentorFT to "yes">>It is pleasantly cool within the tent and, as you part the heavy fabric curtains leading in to the darkened space, a soft wind brushes against you. Given that this fortune teller is likely to be a Risen mage, they must have measures to keep the tent cool in this baking Summer sun. How thoughtful. It's .... empty inside. Not a single other soul stands in here save for you and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia.<<else>>Uncle Callen.<</if>> You'd be perturbed by the silence and relative chill of the place, were it not for your companion. All of a sudden, a croaky voice calls out from behind //another// set of dark curtains, ones you'd previously missed due to how well they blended in with the tent's shadowed interior. <<if $agab == "male">>"A boy<<else>>A girl<</if>> and<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>and a man the size of a bear<<else>>and a lady--no, a warrior bearing the fighter's mark,<</if>> walk into my tent." The dark curtains part, and you bear witness to the figure that waits within. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTeller3]]

<<set $chap2FTKnow to "no">>Well, the back of the figure's head, at least. The voice, an elderly woman's, sounds out again as she turns around on a creaky, swivelling wooden chair. "Do I have that right, pets?" There's a grin in herreddish-brown eyes, and her wrinkly face carries a knowing, scrutinous look to it, though devoid of any malice. She's relatively free of any adornment, save for the topaz amulet that hangs from her neck and the chain-linked rings and bangles that sit around her hands, etched with hard-to-follow runework. [["You scared me!" (Volatile ++)|Chap2FortuneTeller4a][$volatile to $volatile + 3]] [["How did you know that without seeing us?" You ask, curious.|Chap2FortuneTeller4b]] [["You're the fortune teller?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller4c]]

"Was the voice you heard not mine? Does another sit, hidden under this very table?" The old lady cackles mischievously, gesturing to the aged wooden table she sits at. "A good afternoon to the two of you. I am the seeing-witch Clori, of the Sky's Eye. Our troupe was graciously asked to perform at this festival, and so I expect you might run into several of my colleagues this day. Shall we do some readings?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just for this one, please." Aunt Sonia replies flippantly. "I've had my share of fortune, don't want to know any more." "Are you quite sure?" Clori asks, tapping her ringed fingers together. "Opportunities like this are rarer and rarer these days. I might be drafted as a battle-mage soon enough. Could you imagine that? Ha!" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Please, Aunt Sonia?" You ask.<<else>>You shrug. It's up to her if she wants to do it.<</if>> She grunts. "Mm, //fine//. Two readings, then." The old woman smiles at her change in decision. "That'll be a half-eagle each for the both of you."<<else>>"How much for two readings, good lady Clori?" Uncle Callen smiles easily, giving a little bow with his arm folded over his broad chest. The old woman snorts at him. "You're a flatterer, in your fancy little coat and with that lovely beard. A half-eagle each, for both of you."<</if>> [[You actually don't want to have a reading, and you make it known.|Chap2FortuneTeller5a]] [[You'd like to go first, naturally.|Chap2FortuneTeller5b]] [[You'd prefer your guardian went first. What if it's a scary experience? (Cautious +)|Chap2FortuneTeller5c][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [[You'd prefer your guardian went first.|Chap2FortuneTeller5c]]]

"I'll not give out the secrets of my trade so readily, little one." The old lady cackles mischievously. "A good afternoon to the two of you. I am the seeing-witch Clori, of the Sky's Eye. Our troupe was graciously asked to perform at this festival, and so I expect you might run into several of my colleagues this day. Shall we do some readings?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just for this one, please." Aunt Sonia replies flippantly. "I've had my share of fortune, don't want to know any more." "Are you quite sure?" Clori asks, tapping her ringed fingers together. "Opportunities like this are rarer and rarer these days. I might be drafted as a battle-mage soon enough. Could you imagine that? Ha!" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Please, Aunt Sonia?" You ask.<<else>>You shrug. It's up to her if she wants to do it.<</if>> She grunts. "Mm, //fine//. Two readings, then." The old woman smiles at her change in decision. "That'll be a half-eagle each for the both of you." <<else>>"How much for two readings, good lady Clori?" Uncle Callen smiles easily, giving a little bow with his arm folded over his broad chest. The old woman snorts at him. "You're a flatterer, in your fancy little coat and with that lovely beard. A half-eagle each, for both of you."<</if>> [[You actually don't want to have a reading, and you make it known.|Chap2FortuneTeller5a]] [[You'd like to go first, naturally.|Chap2FortuneTeller5b]] [[You'd prefer your guardian went first. What if it's a scary experience? (Cautious +)|Chap2FortuneTeller5c][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [[You'd prefer your guardian went first.|Chap2FortuneTeller5c]]]

"And I may yet scare you again before you leave this tent, little $child." The old lady cackles mischievously. "A good afternoon to the two of you. I am the seeing-witch Clori, of the Sky's Eye. Our troupe was graciously asked to perform at this festival, and so I expect you might run into several of my colleagues this day. Shall we do some readings?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just for this one, please." Aunt Sonia replies flippantly. "I've had my share of fortune, don't want to know any more." "Are you quite sure?" Clori asks, tapping her ringed fingers together. "Opportunities like this are rarer and rarer these days. I might be drafted as a battle-mage soon enough. Could you imagine that? Ha!" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Please, Aunt Sonia?" You ask.<<else>>You shrug. It's up to her if she wants to do it.<</if>> She grunts. "Mm, //fine//. Two readings, then." The old woman smiles at her change in decision. "That'll be a half-eagle each for the both of you."<<else>>"How much for two readings, good lady Clori?" Uncle Callen smiles easily, giving a little bow with his arm folded over his broad chest. The old woman snorts at him. "You're a flatterer, in your fancy little coat and with that lovely beard. A half-eagle each, for both of you."<</if>> [[You actually don't want to have a reading, and you make it known.|Chap2FortuneTeller5a]] [[You'd like to go first, naturally.|Chap2FortuneTeller5b]] [[You'd prefer your guardian went first. What if it's a scary experience? (Cautious +)|Chap2FortuneTeller5c][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [[You'd prefer your guardian went first.|Chap2FortuneTeller5c]]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Ah, $callenChild, that's alright." Uncle Callen smiles reassuringly. "That'll be just one readin', then." "Very well," the witch bows her head, turning abruptly and inviting him to follow. "Come now, young man. There are fortunes to be read today. A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Uncle Callen's smile quirks into a knowing frown as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." He follows her in, waving you goodbye before he steps through the black curtains. "Don't get into any trouble, $callenChild," he grins as he follows, disappearing behind the black curtain with her.<<else>>"Just me, then?" Aunt Sonia's shoulders slump. "I was hoping we'd have the shared burden, kid, but I suppose it's fine..." She turns to the witch, "Just one reading for me." "Very well," the witch bows her head, turning abruptly and inviting Aunt Sonia to follow. "A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Aunt Sonia stiffens as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." "Be good, kid." Aunt Sonia winks before following the witch through the dark curtain.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2FortuneTeller6a]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Good luck, $callenChild, an' don't be gettin any dark prophecies read about yerself, eh?" Uncle Callen winks, and waggles his fingers like a ghost. What a silly old man.<<else>>"Best of luck, kid." Aunt Sonia nods at you. "Don't take whatever she says too seriously, remember."<</if>> A second later, the curtains fly shut with a wave of Clori's bedangled, wrinkly hand. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTeller7b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen laughs, "Well, $callenChild. I'll be sure to fill ye in on what goes on, eh?" The witch invites him in with a wave of her hand. "Come now, young man. There are fortunes to be read today. A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Uncle Callen's smile quirks into a knowing frown as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." He follows her in, waving you goodbye before he steps through the black curtains.<<else>>Aunt Sonia snickers at your request, "Feeling scared, kid? Tell you what, I //will// go first. Just don't go getting yourself lost. I'm guessing this place is warded?" She asks, turning sharply to face the witch. Clori shrugs lightly, tapping her fingers together. "I wouldn't know a thing about that. Do come in, if you would be so kind. A warning, though. The nature of your ... //mark//," Aunt Sonia stiffens as she says this, "may jumble the reading. Just a forewarning, of course." "Hmph," Aunt Sonia grunts. "Alright, let's get this over with..." With that, the two turn and head behind the black curtains.<</if>> [[You're alone.|Chap2FortuneTeller6c]]

The attendant looks affronted at your outburst, and gives <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> a quizzical look. He shouldn't be looking at <<if $mentor == "Callen">>her<<else>>him<</if>>, he should be looking at //you//! "Hey, I'm tal--" You're halted by <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's clumsy hand that's suddenly found itself clamped over your mouth. "Sorry," she smiles shakily after you pry her grip from around your jaw and glare at her, affronted, "$they's inherited my ... //vigour//. We're with one of the performers, Callen Edros of the Bladeweavers. If that's no good, then this should let us in for free." She flicks her Empyrean Master's badge, blinking from the slight pain as her finger strikes the impossibly hard steel.<<else>>a firm nudge from Uncle Callen. When you look up at him in indignation, he shakes his head. "Settle, $callenChild." He mutters to you, then turns back to the attendant. "We've a spot in the performers' quarters. We're with Sonia Wierszy of the Bladeweavers' Order. Ah, I'm also of the Bladeweavers' Order, if ye couldn't tell." He chuckles self-consciously, tugging on his Master's badge, a speck of silver-green against the vast white field of his summery half-sleeved tunic--of course, he still wears a glove on his right hand, as usual.<</if>> The attendant's eyes widen just a smidgen, though he otherwise masks his surprise very well. "I had not noticed. Apologies, Master Bladeweaver <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy.<<else>>Edros.<</if>> Please make your way inside, a Bladeweaver liaison waits for you within." You shoot the attendant one more scowl as you pass, but leave the matter there. He'd best not incur your wrath again. [[Next|Chap2Scene107b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia blinks slowly, even as a trickle of sweat rolls past her eyebrow. "I'm with one of the performers today. Callen Edros? He's fighting ... someone, they never tell you ahead of time these days." She shrugs, getting impatient. "Either way, I'm a Weaver myself. Has to count for something, yeah?" She flicks her Empyrean Master's badge, blinking from the slight pain as her finger strikes the impossibly hard steel.<<else>>Uncle Callen smiles patiently and leans down a little. "D'you have enough, $callenChild?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Not right now," you grin cheekily, pulling at your--quite empty--pockets.<<else>>You stare at him flatly. "You //know// I don't, Uncle Callen."<</if>> "What a pity, $callenChild. Not t'worry, I've enough on me!" He stands tall again, addressing the attendant, "We're with one of the performers today, Sonia Wierszy of the Bladeweavers' Order. Ah, I'm also of the Bladeweavers' Order, if ye couldn't tell." He chuckles self-consciously, tugging on his Master's badge, a speck of silver-green against the vast white field of his Summery half-sleeved tunic, with a gloved hand.<</if>> The attendant's eyes widen just a smidgen, though he otherwise masks his surprise very well. "I had not noticed. Apologies, Master Bladeweaver <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy.<<else>>Edros.<</if>> Please make your way inside, a Bladeweaver liaison waits for you within." You release a breath you'd been holding ever since you reached the front of the queue. Thank the Gods that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> wore the Master's badge today. [[Next|Chap2Scene107b]]

You give the attendant a half-smile, though it doesn't seem to do much. He just stares at you for a moment, before looking back at your mentor. Meanwhile, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia blinks slowly, even as a trickle of sweat rolls past her eyebrow. "I'm with one of the performers today. Callen Edros? He's fighting ... someone, they never tell you ahead of time these days." She shrugs, getting impatient. "Either way, I'm a Weaver myself. Has to count for something, yeah?" She flicks her Empyrean Master's badge, blinking from the slight pain as her finger strikes the impossibly hard steel.<<else>>He smiles patiently and leans down a little. "D'you have enough, $callenChild?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Not right now," you grin cheekily, pulling at your--quite empty--pockets.<<else>>You stare at him flatly. "You //know// I don't, Uncle Callen."<</if>> "What a pity, $callenChild. Not t'worry, I've enough on me!" He stands tall again, addressing the attendant, "We're with one of the performers today, Sonia Wierszy of the Bladeweavers' Order. Ah, I'm also of the Bladeweavers' Order, if ye couldn't tell." He chuckles self-consciously, tugging on his Master's badge, a speck of silver-green against the vast white field of his summery half-sleeved tunic, with a gloved hand.<</if>> The attendant's eyes widen just a smidgen, though he otherwise masks his surprise very well. "I had not noticed. Apologies, Master Bladeweaver <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy.<<else>>Edros.<</if>> Please make your way inside, a Bladeweaver liaison waits for you within." You release a breath you'd been holding ever since you reached the front of the queue. Thank the Gods that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> wore the Master's badge today. [[Next|Chap2Scene107b]]

The inside of the colosseum's echoey halls are noticeably cooler than outside, which comes as a welcome relief. You shiver slightly at the sudden change in temperature. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Stick close, $firstname." Aunt Sonia mutters, glancing warily behind him. "You don't want to bump into any of the 'esteemed guests' here. They'd have you whipped raw for mussing their pretty hair or trodding on their finery."<<else>>"Ye'd best stay with me, $callenChild." Uncle Callen pats your shoulder as you start to walk ahead of him, "Places like this are all too easy to get yerself lost in."<</if>> The expansive halls are made of the same dark stone as the outside, decorated with motifs of the sun, symbol of Sola. A few other symbols appear, ones you recognise as belonging to the other Gods in the Pantheon of Light. Various flags and house banners are draped from the walls, too, as are tapestries of long-passed heroes and great victories in battle. At the top of a wide staircase ahead of you stands a small group, sleek and serious in their presentation, clad in dyed-red vestments and polished silver armour. At their head is a severe-looking woman--with two Empyrean sickles at her hip. This must be the Grandmaster Enota whom Mayor Faibal introduced to the crowds earlier in the day! "Master <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Wierszy,<<else>>Edros,<</if>> It has been a while. You have come with a cohort, I see?" Her voice is scratchy and flowing all at once, resounding with a sort of placid authority through the chill air. Somehow it reminds you of a coiled snake, biding its time. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Ah, Grandmaster Enota. It has been a while, aye. Let it be my pleasure to introduce to you, young $firstname." He beckons for you to step forward,<<else>>Aunt Sonia's cheeks are drawn into the hollow of her mouth for a moment as she seems to bite them. When she speaks, it's with a calm countenance that almost betrays a grudging respect. "A long while, Grandmaster, you look well. This," she holds a splayed-open hand out to you, "is $firstname. I don't think you've met $them properly yet." With that, she beckons you to move forward,<</if>> so you do, <<if $cautious < 50>>head held high. It's this close that you realise that her badge--a Grandmaster's badge--differs slightly in form to that of the Master. The wings on the blade extend beyond the frame of the badge's shield shape, and a twelve-spoked wheel sits behind the blade itself. Grandmaster Enota peers down at you through green eyes that shine with a hint of yellow-gold. They look diluted, almost, amidst the shadowed ring of her eyelids. "Very good, young one. A Bladeweaver, prospective or not, never trembles. You are an example I could present to some of our eighth years." She nods coolly at <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia, and you take that as permission to return to her side.<<else>>Uncle Callen, and you take that as permission to return to his side.<</if>><<else>>shakily. It's this close that you realise that her badge--a Grandmaster's badge--differs slightly in form to that of the Master. The wings on the blade extend beyond the frame of the badge's shield shape, and a twelve-spoked wheel sits behind the blade itself. Grandmaster Enota peers down at you through green eyes that shine with a hint of yellow-gold. They look diluted, almost, amidst the shadowed ring of her eyelids. "Hold your head high, young one. A Bladeweaver, prospective or not, never trembles." You nod hurriedly, hoping you didn't offend this //quite// daunting lady, and hurriedly return to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's side, forgetting that she hadn't even dismissed you.<<else>>Uncle Callen's side, forgetting that she hadn't even dismissed you.<</if>><</if>> With that done, she brushes a hand over the pommel of one of her stowed blades, pursing her lips. [[Next|Chap2Scene108b]]

The next hour passes in a numbed frenzy as you are ushered into a room deep within the arena's foundation, listening to the crowd's confusion grow quieter and quieter. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia took off shortly after fetching you from the stands, and you haven't heard anything about her since.<<else>>Uncle Callen tearfully split off after fetching you from the stands, and you've not heard anything about him since.<</if>> The walls here have a flowing pattern to them, like they were formed from molten rock poured into a mould, rather than solid bricks layered atop one another. Thinking about them is just a pretty distraction, though. It's something to look at that //isn't// the scene to your left. $mentorTermChild lays prone in a clean bed, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> armour having been peeled off in a hurry. You weren't meant to have seen what you saw then, but nobody was paying you much attention. Rather than the compromised plate, an excessive amount of bandages have been wrapped around <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> chest, which rises and falls with a worryingly slow rhythm. When you were quietly brought in by Archer, they explained that $mentorThey's been put to sleep, in order to allow the many treatments and potions--applied immediately after Ser Malack's attack--to work more effectively. Now, Archer sits in the opposite corner to you, their hands resting awkwardly on the too-high arms of their chair with a troubled look in their eyes, having not torn their gaze from $mentorTermChild once. It's been uncomfortably silent for minutes now, and you feel the need to say //something//. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[["Is he ... is he going to..." You can hardly get the words out.|Chap2Scene156a]]<<else>>[["Is she ... is she going to..." You can hardly get the words out.|Chap2Scene156a]]<</if>> [["What's going to happen to him?" You ask, referring to Ser Malack.|Chap2Scene156b]] [["What's taking everybody so long?!" You blurt out, close to tears. (Volatile +, Patient --)|Chap2Scene156c][$patient to $patient - 2, $volatile to $volatile + 1]] [["Where is everybody?" You wonder aloud. It's a small attempt to seem more composed than you actually are. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene156d][$honesty to $honesty - 1]] [["Where is everybody?" You wonder aloud. Despite all this, you're holding it together.|Chap2Scene156d]]

The next hour passes in a numbed frenzy as you are ushered into a room deep within the arena's foundation, listening to the crowd's confusion grow quieter and quieter. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia took off shortly after returning from her raging, and you haven't heard anything about her since.<<else>>Uncle Callen tearfully split off from the rest of you earlier, and you've not heard anything about him since.<</if>> The walls here have a flowing pattern to them, like they were formed from molten rock poured into a mould, rather than solid bricks layered atop one another. Thinking about them is just a pretty distraction, though. It's something to look at that //isn't// the scene to your left. $mentorTermChild lays prone in a clean bed, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> armour having been peeled off in a hurry. You weren't meant to have seen what you saw then, but nobody was paying you much attention. Rather than the compromised plate, an excessive amount of bandages have been wrapped around <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> chest, which rises and falls with a worryingly slow rhythm. When you were quietly brought in by Archer, they explained that $mentorThey's been put to sleep, in order to allow the many treatments and potions--applied immediately after Ser Malack's attack--to work more effectively. Now, Archer sits in the opposite corner to you, their hands resting awkwardly on the too-high arms of their chair with a troubled look in their eyes, having not torn their gaze from $mentorTermChild once. It's been uncomfortably silent for minutes now, and you feel the need to say //something//. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[["Is he ... is he going to..." You can hardly get the words out.|Chap2Scene156a1]]<<else>>[["Is she ... is she going to..." You can hardly get the words out.|Chap2Scene156a1]]<</if>> [["What's going to happen to him?" You ask, referring to Ser Malack.|Chap2Scene156b1]] [["What's taking everybody so long?!" You blurt out, close to tears. (Volatile +, Patient --)|Chap2Scene156c1][$patient to $patient - 2, $volatile to $volatile + 1]] [["Where is everybody?" You wonder aloud. It's a small attempt to seem more composed than you actually are. (Honesty -)|Chap2Scene156d1][$honesty to $honesty - 1]] [["Where is everybody?" You wonder aloud. Despite all this, you're holding it together.|Chap2Scene156d1]]

"No, $firstname," Archer says resolutely. "Nothing more will happen to $mentorThem, I swear it by all twelve Gods. Were that brute to walk through those doors, I would sear him within his black-and-gold shell." You blink. "Can you ... actually do that?" They pause for a moment, "Well, not in an instant. I am sure there are a fair few Weavers here who would be happy to assist me in holding him still, though. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia will be here soon, I wager,<<else>>Callen will be here soon, I wager,<</if>><<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> along with your companion from earlier." They smile cheekily. "Perhaps they can help me prepare, hm?" You'd almost forgotten about Sam. He was somewhat left behind once the fog in your head cleared and you darted off to find someone. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>><<else>> so we'll have some help with preparations, hm?"<</if>> You chuckle emptily at their joke and look at $mentorTermChild once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

"I ... cannot say at present, $firstname," Archer sighs softly, an apology in their tone despite not saying sorry. "If the Gods are good, he will be swiftly punished for his crime." <<if $volatile < 48>>"If they were good, they wouldn't let this happen," you mutter bitterly. Their brows lift slightly, but they don't argue your point. It's a small victory, you suppose.<<else>>//If they were good, they wouldn't let this happen//, you think, but don't dare say.<</if>> "Mm, I expect we will see <<if $mentor == "Callen">>your Aunt Sonia<<else>>your Uncle Callen<</if>> soon, along with your companion from earlier." You'd almost forgotten about Sam. He was somewhat left behind once the fog in your head cleared and you darted off to find someone. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>> You blink at them and nod, still thinking of the death-knight that nearly ruined you. You turn to look at $mentorTermChild. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

Archer's lips thin in sympathy, a not-smile that you've seen a dozen times already. "I can only ask your patience, $firstname. Your anger is ... warranted<<if $mentor == "Callen">>, as is your Aunt Sonia's."<<else>>."<</if>> You're reminded, in the very back of your fear-stricken mind, that Sam is out there somewhere, too. He was somewhat left behind once the fog in your head cleared and you darted off to find someone. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>> You wipe feverishly at your eyes with the hem of your sleeve. "I want <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia,<<else>>Uncle Callen,<</if>>" you say petulantly. It's difficult //not// to act like a child, now, when everything is so ... //mixed-up//. <span id = "invader-text">Woe to the children, woe to the forlorn.</span> When Archer says nothing in response, you turn and look at $mentorTermChild once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

Truth be told, you want nothing more than to curl up and sleep for a long, long time. Dreams be damned. Archer offers a sympathetic smile. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia will be here soon, I wager,<<else>>"Callen will be here soon, I wager,<</if>> along with your companion from earlier." You'd almost forgotten about Sam. He was somewhat left behind once the fog in your head cleared and you darted off to find someone. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>> You swallow thickly and nod, looking at $mentorTermChild once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

"No, $firstname," Archer says resolutely. "Nothing more will happen to $mentorThem, I swear it by all twelve Gods. Were that brute to walk through those doors, I would sear him within his black-and-gold shell." You blink. "Can you ... actually do that?" They pause for a moment, "Well, not in an instant. I am sure there are a fair few Weavers here who would be happy to assist me in holding him still, though. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia will be here soon, I wager,<<else>>"Callen will be here soon, I wager,<</if>><<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> along with your companion from earlier." They smile cheekily. "Perhaps they can help me prepare, hm?" You'd almost forgotten about Sam. It wasn't your intention to leave him behind when you ran after <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>><<else>> so we'll have some help with preparations, hm?"<</if>> You chuckle emptily at their joke and look at $mentorTermChild once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

"I ... cannot say at present, $firstname," Archer sighs softly, an apology in their tone despite not saying sorry. "If the Gods are good, he will be swiftly punished for his crime." <<if $volatile < 48>>"If they were good, they wouldn't let this happen," you mutter bitterly. Their brows lift slightly, but they don't argue your point. It's a small victory, you suppose.<<else>>//If they were good, they wouldn't let this happen//, you think, but don't dare say.<</if>> "Mm, I expect we will see <<if $mentor == "Callen">>your Aunt Sonia<<else>>your Uncle Callen<</if>> soon, along with your companion from earlier." You'd almost forgotten about Sam. It wasn't your intention to leave him behind when you ran after <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>> You blink at them and nod, still thinking of the death-knight that nearly ruined you. You turn to look at $mentorTermChild. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

Archer's lips thin in sympathy, a not-smile that you've seen a dozen times already. "I can only ask your patience, $firstname. Your anger is ... warranted<<if $mentor == "Callen">>, as is your Aunt Sonia's."<<else>>."<</if>> You're reminded, in the very back of your fear-stricken mind, that Sam is out there somewhere, too. It wasn't your intention to leave him behind when you ran after <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>> You wipe feverishly at your eyes with the hem of your sleeve. "I want <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia,<<else>>Uncle Callen,<</if>>" you say petulantly. It's difficult //not// to act like a child, now, when everything seems so ... //mixed-up//. <span id = "invader-text">Woe to the children, woe to the forlorn.</span> When Archer says nothing in response, you turn and look at $mentorTermChild once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

Archer offers a sympathetic smile. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia will be here soon, I wager,<<else>>"Callen will be here soon, I wager,<</if>> along with your companion from earlier." You'd almost forgotten about Sam. It wasn't your intention to leave him behind when you ran after <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>>. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You hope he's alright.<<elseif $samRelationship < 50 and $samRelationship > 40>>He's not exactly your highest priority, but you hope he's okay.<<else>>He's not exactly your highest priority, so you'll forgive yourself the lapse in memory.<</if>> You breathe shakily and nod, looking at $mentorTermChild once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene157a]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>He looks so small, like this. Your Uncle Callen could brighten a room just by walking into it, and here he is, struggling to breathe in a dingy room under the ground with Gods know how many different potions and solutions on and in him. <<if $callenClose < 42>>The two of you are not close as ward and guardian, that much is plain for anyone to see. But he ... he //raised// you, found you on a step in the dead of night. He's your Uncle Callen. You can't let him go like this. He has to pull through, even if it's just so you can go back to ignoring him. It's difficult to do that, like this.<<else>>You can't let him go like this. It wouldn't be fair. He //raised// you. He's your Uncle Callen. He has to pull through, as your guardian. What other option is there?<</if>><<else>>She looks so weak, like this. Your Aunt Sonia is ferocious, tenacious, //ambitious//; fearsome in battle and outside of it. She ... she stepped up for you, when she needn't have. Uncle Callen told you that once, the proudest look you've ever seen on his grinning face when speaking of her. She was young, capable of making it far in the Order, but she chose you first. And then she went farther than she thought she could anyway. <<if $soniaClose < 42>>The two of you are not close as ward and guardian, that much is plain for anyone to see. Still, she guides you with a firm hand, and never accepts your failures as fact. She believes in you often more than you believe in yourself.<<else>>More than that, she's your greatest supporter. She guides you with a firm hand, never accepting your failures as fact. She believes in you often more than you believe in yourself.<</if>> It feels like an injustice for her to be reduced to a gasping ruin, asleep in a bed under the ground, addled on potions and healing magics.<</if>> You heard what the healers were saying, in hushed whispers, though you probably shouldn't. A puncture to the lung, several broken ribs. //An artery was almost nicked.// [["I want to hurt him for this," you admit, muttering bitterly.|Chap2Scene158a]] [["I want to go home," you sigh quietly.|Chap2Scene158b]] [[Whisper quietly in your mentor's ear, "I'll hurt him back for this, one day..."|Chap2Scene158c]] [[You pass the time silently, staring at the floor.|Chap2Scene158d]] <<if $ch2Hurt == "yes">><<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Tears prick at your eyes. "He said he wouldn't get hurt."|Chap2Scene158e]]<<else>>[[Tears prick at your eyes. "She said she wouldn't get hurt."|Chap2Scene158e]]<</if>><<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>>

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, Grandmaster. Are we to be escorted, or would you have us navigate this maze with a cup of water as our reward?" There's an amused lilt to her tone, betraying that this might be something Grandmaster Enota has done in the past. Grandmaster Enota confirms your suspicion by laughing politely. "I hold no such authority over you anymore, Master Wierszy, and I'll not hold such authority over //you// for a couple of years." She turns to you as she says this, tone completely level and serious. "If you do not mind, Master Wierszy, I would like to speak with you for a moment. Alone. The child can be escorted to Master Edros' quarters?" Her words are phrased as a question, but there's little room to budge in them. With no other option, Aunt Sonia nods stiffly. "That's alright. You can follow these guards and go and keep your Uncle Callen company, yeah?" <<if $soniaClose > 50>>It's not ideal, but there's no other option,<<else>>That suits you just fine,<</if>><<else>>Uncle Callen smiles graciously, and prepares to ask a question. "Grandmaster, would ye be so kind as to show us the way to Master Wierszy's quarters? I'll be t'first to confess that I bleedin' //hate// arenas like this. Damned mazes, they are." Grandmaster Enota laughs politely. "Of course, Master Edros. Though, I am afraid I require a mote of your time, before you go. The child may be escorted by my guards, if that pleases you?" Her words are phrased as a question, but there's little room to budge in their meaning. With no other option, Uncle Callen nods conciliatingly. "O' course, Grandmaster. Alright, $callenChild," he turns to you, "ye'll just follow these guards, alright? No burnin' the place down, either." He winks, sending you off with a pat on the back. <<if $callenClose > 50>>It's not ideal, but there's no other option,<<else>>That suits you just fine,<</if>><</if>> so you trudge off, flanked by two of Grandmaster Enota's portentous-looking guards. One would think they were servicing a funeral, rather than a festival. You hope that's not how //you'll// be as a Bladeweaver. You're taken through the winding halls of the colosseum's interior, stealing glances at the open space in the colosseum's central grounds through the odd window here and there: a patchwork of various stands and obstacle courses, built into the arena's underground, rise and fall with a mechanical lurch as they are tested before the events begin. [[Meanwhile...|Chap2Scene109]]

You must make quite a sight, a little $child flanked by an escort of elite Bladeweaver Knights, given that you're met by odd looks by nearly every person you pass on your way to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen's<<else>>Aunt Sonia's<</if>> assigned quarters. "This way, $firstname, was it?" One of the Knights says quietly. She's a tall woman with a long braid of thick, white-blonde hair adorned with polished obsidians and a glittery rapier stowed at her side. Her companion is more plain-looking, but he carries a fearsome axe on his back, all flowing curves and gleaming turquoise. You nod at her question, still conscious of the eyes on you as you pass everybody else by. [[A pit of nerves settles in your stomach, and you frown. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene111f][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [[You scowl at any who look at you. They ought to mind their business! (Volatile +, Chivalrous -)|Chap2Scene111g][$volatile to $volatile + 1, $chivalrous to $chivalrous - 1]] [[You quicken your pace, wanting to be done with all this. (Patient --)|Chap2Scene111h][$patient to $patient - 2]] [[You do your best to smile at them as you walk by. (Cold -)|Chap2Scene111i][$cold to $cold - 1]]

The plain-looking Knight notices this, and gets your attention. "You needn't be afraid, $firstname. I wager they're just surprised to see us taking a child somewhere, is all. Arne here--that's her name--is all-too-familiar with keeping them at bay, so you just stick close to her, hey?" You glance at Arne, the one with the braid, and she gives you an awkward smile. "That's, uh, that's right, little one. You stick near me and not a thing'll happen." She speaks with a curious accent, unlike any you've heard. Well, it can't hurt, so you shuffle a little closer, sparing another look at her rapier as it bounces around with the motion of her footsteps. Above, you hear the two Knights muttering and chuckling to one another, though you can't make out any actual words. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here!<</if>>" Arne gives you a smile as she leaves, chattering away to her companion all the while. [[Next|Chap2Scene112b]]

Some of them look affronted at your vitriol-filled glares, and a select few even make to march over and tell you off, only relenting once the Knight with the braid tilts her head, glaring right back. "It's not clever to make enemies of people you don't know, $firstname," the plain-looking Knight mutters, voice light with amusement. "Arne here--that's her name--isn't particularly good with people either, but she manages, hey?" You glance at Arne, the one with the braid, and she gives you an awkward smile. "That's, uh, that's right, little one. I've learned to just ignore people, these days. Stick your chin up and look forward, is what I say." She speaks with a curious accent, unlike any you've heard. You grumble to yourself, but try not to cause any further scenes. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here!<</if>>" Arne gives you a nod as she leaves, chattering away to her companion all the while. [[Next|Chap2Scene112b]]

The plain-looking Knight's hand on your shoulder slows you to a complete stop. You turn around quickly, facing him. "Slow your pace, little one. We might look capable, but even we have our limits!" He laughs sheepishly. "If you're nervous, you can walk closer with Arne here. When //I// was young and in training, she'd walk with me through the Citadel." You turn and look at this Arne, eyes wide with questioning. She nods, smiling awkwardly. "It's, uh, true. You can walk with me, if you like, little one." Well, it can't hurt, so you shuffle a little closer, sparing another look at her rapier as it bounces around with the motion of her footsteps. Above, you hear the two Knights muttering and chuckling to one another, though you can't make out any actual words. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here!<</if>>" Arne gives you a smile as she leaves, chattering away to her companion all the while. [[Next|Chap2Scene112b]]

Some of them look perturbed by your grins, while some laugh cheerily at what must be a strange sight: a grinning $child flanked on either side by two fearsome-looking Bladeweavers, in full uniform. "You're a cheery little $callenChild, aren't you?" The woman with the braid chuckles, watching your display. "//Arne//!" The plain-looking man hisses, nudging her armoured shoulder with his hand. They exchange whispers for a moment, ending in him sighing. "If they're going to look at me..." you mumble, "they might as well see me smiling!" They both laugh at that, and you continue on. The entrance to <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia's quarters<<else>>Uncle Callen's quarters<</if>> is unassuming, attended by two regular stadium guards rather than those like your own Bladeweaver escort. One of them wordlessly reaches over to the dark wooden door and raps a quick double knock. A moment later the door inches open, and a familiar head pokes out of the gap. "What is it?" Archer asks, the shiny waves of their hair held back by a headband. "We are //busy//." They huff, before noticing you. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia, dearest! $firstname is here!<<else>>Callen! $firstname is here!<</if>>" Arne gives you a grin as she leaves, chattering away to her companion all the while. [[Next|Chap2Scene112b]]

Archer hurries you inside, pulling the door shut behind you. "Your negotiation skills are just impeccable, $firstname. How is it that you managed a Bladeweaver guard but we are stuck with two louts?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Oh, leave 'em be, Archie. Ye've already terrorised the poor buggers earlier, best not to speak ill of 'em now," a new voice, all-too-familiar, comes from the far left of the room. Your gaze snaps to Uncle Callen, half-clad in ceremonial-looking armour, perched on a chair that looks a little too small for his hefty frame. His greying hair is tied tightly back, lending him a more soldierly look. When he locks eyes with you, he smiles toothily through his beard. "There's my $callenChild! C'mere." [[🐺+ Rush over to hug him. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113a1][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🐺+ Bound over, smiling. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113b1][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🐺+ "Hello." You grunt, even though you're happy to see him. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c1][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[🐺- "Hello." You grunt. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c1][$callenClose to $callenClose - 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[Walk over, peering around. "What have you been doing?"|chap2Scene113d1]]<<else>>"They're not that bad, Archer," a new voice, all-too-familiar, comes from the far left of the room. Your gaze snaps to Aunt Sonia, half-clad in ceremonial-looking armour, perched on a chair that looks less than comfortable. Her hair is tied up and away from her face, leading you to realise that you very rarely, if ever, see Aunt Sonia's ears. How strange. Like the rest of her, they are slightly pointed. When she locks eyes with you, she gives a small but proud smile. "You made it here in one piece, kid!" [[🦅+ Rush over to hug her. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113a1][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🦅+ Bound over, smiling. "Your armour looks amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene113b1][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cold to $cold - 1]] [[🦅+ "Hello." You grunt, even though you're happy to see her. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c1][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[🦅- "Hello." You grunt. (Cold +)|Chap2Scene113c1][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 1, $cold to $cold + 1]] [[Walk over, peering around. "What have you been doing?"|chap2Scene113d1]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>He is cold to the touch from wearing the steel, but you don't mind. "Aye, what little I've got on" he looks down at what little of it he's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--and sighs dejectedly, "a pity I don't own it."<<else>>She is cold to the touch from wearing the steel, but you don't mind. "It's pretty pretty, isn't it? I've hardly got any of it on yet." She looks at what little of it she's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--in an appraising manner as if she wasn't the one currently wearing it all. "Wish I was able to save enough to get some of my own."<</if>> "What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me the odd little boost while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> You look at Archer, curious. <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"What kinds of spells?" They smile, happy to have the chance to explain something to somebody. "Well, an amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required--no offense meant, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<<else>>"Are you gonna explain them all now, like you always do?" They raise an eyebrow at you. "Just for that, I think I will! An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen clarifies, "We'll each be at our best, $callenChild."<<else>>"//I// personally thought it was a bit cheap, but it's more for the spectacle than anything." Aunt Sonia clarifies. "Whoever I'm fighting is, they'll having this done to them as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> [["That ... feels like cheating," you frown. (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene114b][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 1]] [["How much better will you be?" You ask, eyes wide.|Chap2Scene114c]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Aye," he looks down at what little of it he's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--and sighs dejectedly, "a pity I don't own it."<<else>>"It's pretty pretty, isn't it? I've hardly got any of it on yet." She looks at what little of it she's wearing--one gauntlet, both greaves, cuisses and a mail shirt--in an appraising manner as if she wasn't the one currently wearing it all. "Wish I was able to save enough to get some of my own..."<</if>> "What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me nasty-tasting potions while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> You look at Archer, curious. <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"What kinds of spells?" They smile, happy to have the chance to explain something to somebody. "Well, an amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required--no offense meant, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<<else>>"Are you gonna explain them all now, like you always do?" They raise an eyebrow at you. "Just for that, I think I will! An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen clarifies, "We'll each be at our best, $callenChild."<<else>>"//I// personally thought it was a bit cheap, but it's more for the spectacle than anything." Aunt Sonia clarifies. "Whoever I'm fighting is, they'll having this done to them as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> [["That ... feels like cheating," you frown. (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene114b][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 1]] [["How much better will you be?" You ask, eyes wide.|Chap2Scene114c]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>He smiles at your response, chilly as it is. He understands how you are sometimes.<<else>>She smiles slightly at your response, chilly as it is. She is often much the same with greetings, so there's a mutual brusqueness that you share.<</if>> "What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me nasty-tasting potions while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> You look at Archer, curious. <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"What kinds of spells?" They smile, happy to have the chance to explain something to somebody. "Well, an amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required--no offense meant, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<<else>>"Are you gonna explain them all now, like you always do?" They raise an eyebrow at you. "Just for that, I think I will! An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen clarifies, "We'll each be at our best, $callenChild."<<else>>"//I// personally thought it was a bit cheap, but it's more for the spectacle than anything." Aunt Sonia clarifies. "Whoever I'm fighting is, they'll having this done to them as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> [["That ... feels like cheating," you frown. (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene114b][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 1]] [["How much better will you be?" You ask, eyes wide.|Chap2Scene114c]]

"What have you been doing in here?" You ask, looking around. The room itself is fairly simple, styled much like the rest of the arena's bowels--that is to say, it is quite bare. Red-brown stone is flecked with patches of damage, revealing a lighter core to the roughly carved bricks that make up the walls, quite unlike the sleek dark stone used in the higher sections of the building. This entire place feels ... //older// than what stands above. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Just gettin' ready, $callenChild. For t'fight we're each allowed time to bolster our bodies and spirits. Archie's placin' the necessary enchantments on the armour so I don't get meself //too// banged-up, as well." Uncle Callen explains, all while struggling to keep comfortable in his chair, rattling about like a bag of pots.<<else>>"Preparing, mostly." She sighs, glancing at Archer as they flick through a book on a nearby table. "Trying to stay sane with that one, as well. Archer has //so kindly// accepted the task of acting as my steward-mage, so they've been giving me nasty-tasting potions while sorting my armour out. Spells I can hardly pronounce, stuff like that." She gives a little shrug, making her mail shirt shift with a rattling sound.<</if>> You look at Archer, curious. <<if $chap1ArcherOpinion == "like">>"What kinds of spells?" They smile, happy to have the chance to explain something to somebody. "Well, an amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required--no offense meant, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<<else>>"Are you gonna explain them all now, like you always do?" They raise an eyebrow at you. "Just for that, I think I will! An amplification of <<if $mentor == "Callen">>his<<else>>her<</if>> perception, reflexes and flexibility was required, along with a slight dulling of pain. There is a warding enchantment applied to the mail, to stop the nastiest of attacks slipping through, and so on and so forth."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Whoever I'm fightin', they're certain to be just as enhanced as me." Uncle Callen clarifies, "We'll each be at our best, $callenChild."<<else>>"//I// personally thought it was a bit cheap, but it's more for the spectacle than anything." Aunt Sonia clarifies. "Whoever I'm fighting is, they'll having this done to them as well. It's all for the exhibition--they want us fighting at our best, so this sort of thing is allowed."<</if>> [["That ... feels like cheating," you frown. (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene114b][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 1]] [["How much better will you be?" You ask, eyes wide.|Chap2Scene114c]]

Archer titters lightly, fiddling with a small station of vials and tubes through which an inky green liquid flows. "You are more than welcome to take it up with the organizers of the exhibition, young <<if $agab == "male">>man<<else>>lady<</if>>." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"So," Aunt Sonia asks, "where's Callen gotten off to? Or is he waiting outside to make me jump on my way out?" She casts a dubious look towards the closed door. "You'll be waiting a while, you old fart! I've not even got half of this stuff on." "Oh, he had to speak to Grandmaster Enota--she's here, if you didn't know," you respond, shrugging lightly. Not much else to say about that, is there? Her mouth thins. "I //did// know, unfortunately, kid. Gods willing, he'll make it back in one piece..." Archer gives her an exasperated look over their shoulder. "Grandmaster Enota //really// is not that terrible, Sonia. Have you ever considered that you are a prickly person, and that not everybody you mislike is a beast made flesh?" She sniffs. "Given it a passing thought, settled on 'no'."<<else>>"Well, $callenChild," Uncle Callen asks, tilting his head, "where's yer Aunt Sonia gotten off to?" "Oh, she had to speak to Grandmaster Enota--she's here, if you didn't know," you respond, shrugging lightly. Not much else to say about that, is there? "Ah." He says quietly, clicking his tongue in the awkward silence that follows. "What'd you think of her, $callenChild?" he leans forward in his seat, interested. "I reckon ye've never met the woman." You sway in place for a moment, thinking. <<if $cautious > 50>>"She ... was a bit scary, really," you admit slightly sheepishly.<<else>>You snicker. "It was a bit funny--she looked like she //really// wanted to be scary, but it didn't work on me."<</if>> He chuckles. "Well, she was quite the threatenin' presence, even when I was a boy. She could bring anybody to heel with a nasty look." Archer smirks, looking at him over their shoulder. "I know someone quite like that, incidentally." The bearded man chews his lip, looking away. "If ye value anythin' in this world, Archie, do not let Sonia hear you say that." "That you know //exactly// who I speak of only affirms my point." They shrug, returning to their esoteric work.<</if>> [[The sound of the door opening draws your collective attention.|Chap2Scene115]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen's eyes twinkle. "Ye'll just have to see, won't ya?"<<else>>Aunt Sonia's grin is more a wicked flash of teeth than a genuine smile. "//Lots//."<</if>> "Rest assured that $mentorThey will be beyond anything you've seen from $mentorThem, $firstname," Archer interjects, unsatisfied with your mentor's cryptic response. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"So," Aunt Sonia asks, "where's Callen gotten off to? Or is he waiting outside to make me jump on my way out?" She casts a dubious look towards the closed door. "You'll be waiting a while, you old fart! I've not even got half of this stuff on." "Oh, he had to speak to Grandmaster Enota--she's here, if you didn't know," you respond, shrugging lightly. Not much else to say about that, is there? Her mouth thins. "I //did// know, unfortunately, kid. Gods willing, he'll make it back in one piece..." Archer gives her an exasperated look over their shoulder. "Grandmaster Enota //really// is not that terrible, Sonia. Have you ever considered that you are a prickly person, and that not everybody you mislike is a beast made flesh?" She sniffs. "Given it a passing thought, settled on 'no'."<<else>>"Well, $callenChild," Uncle Callen asks, tilting his head, "where's yer Aunt Sonia gotten off to?" "Oh, she had to speak to Grandmaster Enota--she's here, if you didn't know," you respond, shrugging lightly. Not much else to say about that, is there? "Ah." He says quietly, clicking his tongue in the awkward silence that follows. "What'd you think of her, $callenChild?" he leans forward in his seat, interested. "I reckon ye've never met the woman." You sway in place for a moment, thinking. <<if $cautious > 50>>"She ... was a bit scary, really," you admit slightly sheepishly.<<else>>You snicker. "It was a bit funny--she looked like she //really// wanted to be scary, but it didn't work on me."<</if>> He chuckles. "Well, she was quite the threatenin' presence, even when I was a boy. She could bring anybody to heel with a nasty look." Archer smirks, looking at him over their shoulder. "I know someone quite like that, incidentally." The bearded man chews his lip, looking away. "If ye value anythin' in this world, Archie, do not let Sonia hear you say that." "That you know //exactly// who I speak of only affirms my point." They shrug, returning to their esoteric work.<</if>> [[The sound of the door opening draws your collective attention.|Chap2Scene115]]

A short silence fills the room while the two of them stare one another down, with Archer rubbing the bridge of their nose, exasperated. "//Your melodrama is interrupting my work...//" they groan. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Well, Cal?" Aunt Sonia crosses her arms, stepping towards him. "What did that crone want?" "She ... she wanted me for somethin', simple as that." When Aunt Sonia's brow furrows even more and she makes to speak, he throws a finger up. "An' I //knew// ye'd respond like that, so I didn't want to say anythin'. Don't worry, it's absolutely nothin', just a simple request." He moves to lean on a nearby table, affecting an air of oddly nervous nonchalance. "A request you won't tell me about?" She angles her head down and stares up at him, sighing in a manner that almost turns into a growl. "Aye." Whatever Aunt Sonia is thinking about, she ultimately drops the matter with another shrug. "Alright, then. Help me put this stuff on?" She points with a thumb towards a half-emptied armour stand. "Nothin' would please me more, lass." He grins, pushing off the table with more childish whimsy than he's displayed the entire day.<<else>>"Lass?" Uncle Callen asks, eyes going slightly wider. Is he ... trying to look pleading? "I was talking with Enota, if you're all so curious..." She mutters, glancing at a victorious-looking Uncle Callen with annoyance. Archer stops what they're doing with a clatter, staring at her for a few seconds. "Something you are //so// prone to doing, of course. We cannot pull you away from her, hm?" "Y'don't wanna tell me, lass?" Uncle Callen frowns, concerned. "Or ... is it somethin' else?" She blinks, absentmindedly squeezing her arm. "Something else." There's a second of uncomfortable silence before Uncle Callen acquiesces. "Alright then, lass. Ye're a big girl, an' I'll not push for answers I can't get. P'raps I'll talk to Grandmaster Enota meself..." "You're welcome to, just don't invite me," she finally laughs, wagging her finger at him. Archer, having silently moved behind her, gasps. "But I thought you were--" "Quiet, Archer." Aunt Sonia snaps her fingers at them, before her gaze lands on the rest of Uncle Callen's armour, stored on a dummy. "Let's help you get the rest of this on, big man." "Ye're a lifesaver, lass!" He breathes in relief while rubbing his side, still sore from the uncomfortable chair he was sat in. She does a little bow. "So I've heard."<</if>> <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[Next|Chap2Scene117]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene117b]]<</if>>

The next half an hour passes laboriously, with Archer too immersed in their work to speak, and $mentorTermChild occupied with preparing for the duel. Still, $mentorThey makes time to entertain you every now and then, though it's not very effective. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Instead, the responsibility of keeping you from melting into a little puddle of boredom falls to Aunt Sonia. She has you stood, in the opposite corner of the room to everybody else, training to //box// of all things. "We're in an arena, might as well learn the kid some fighting moves!" Was her reasoning. And so you find yourself, fists balled tightly, rhythmically striking at Aunt Sonia's outstretched palms, as she shifts from side to side. Every now and then she swings quickly, but not hard, at your head to keep you agile. If you don't dodge, you might have a sore ear for a minute or two. [[You whine, "I don't want to do this anymore..."|Chap2Scene118e]] [[You're relishing the chance to hit something, honestly.|Chap2Scene118f]] [[It's fun, but you'd rather do something else for the time being.|Chap2Scene118g]]<<else>>Instead, the responsibility of keeping you from melting into a little puddle of boredom falls to Uncle Callen. He's been giving you riddles and brain-teasers of varying levels of difficulty, though most of them are quite easy--the ones that are too hard for you to answer never stay that way for long, as he caves easily and tells you anyway. <<if $chap2askriddle == "yes">>He isn't as good at you as asking riddles, but who is?<<else>><</if>> "This one's a little obvious once ye figure it out, but it should be a challenge," he smiles. "It belongs to you, but everybody else uses it. What am I talkin' about, $callenChild?" <<textbox "$calridanswer" "">> [[Answer|Chap2Scene118h]] [[You really can't figure it out, and just ask for the answer.|Chap2Scene118j]] [[You groan in exasperation. "I don't want to answer riddles all day!"|Chap2Scene118i]]<</if>>

Immediately, Aunt Sonia stops, watching as you drop your arms like big weights and groan pathetically. "Hey, that's alright, $firstname. You're not in training, so I'll let you be," she strokes your shoulder soothingly. "You go and get a bit of rest, hey? I'm sure we'll find something interesting to talk about, if you're not up for a bit of action." You nod in agreement, rubbing your slightly tired arms. "I expect double effort next time it's my turn to train you, though!" She adds, grinning wickedly at your unenthusiastic response. [[Next|Chap2Scene119b]]

Your tongue peeks through your lips as you concentrate on hitting her palms as quickly as possible, breathing heavily whenever she swings her hand to try and catch you off-guard--which never happens. There must be a wicked little grin on your face, such is your delight at getting to do something even approaching combat, that Aunt Sonia actually laughs, and you manage to catch //her// off-guard. Your fist slips past her hand, and just you think you're about to actually punch her, your hand is stopped dead in its path. There's a pressure around your forearm, and you realise she's caught it with her other hand, looking at you flatly. "That was a good try, kid, but I'm faster than you, for the time being. Shall we keep going?" You nod hurriedly, glad she wasn't angered by the move. The two of you continue for another ten minutes, before she gives up and throws herself down in a chair, lamenting your endless energy. [[Next|Chap2Scene119b]]

"Aunt Sonia, could w--" "Think fast, $firstname!" She calls out, quickly swinging a soft strike at the side of your head. //Instinct...// <<if $instinct > 0>>//Success.// You see the strike coming a mile away, and bring up your arm to block it with ease. You give Aunt Sonia an irritated look, and push her hand away as she chuckles proudly. "Good job, kid. I suppose we can stop now, I'm afraid you'll end up knocking me down soon enough!" <<if $cautious < 50>>"Maybe I will, one day," you dare to challenge, locking eyes with her. She just nods, laughing. "I'm looking forward to it, kid."<<else>>That's a novel idea, but you're not sure. You certainly won't be good enough to beat her for a long while, right?<</if>><<else>>//Failure.// You simply do not register what is happening quick enough to do something about it. The most you can do is flinch, hunching your shoulders up in anticipation of a hit that ... never comes. You open your partially-squinted eyes to gaze questioningly at Aunt Sonia, who just laughs at your strange expression and pose. "Not quite fast enough, kid. I suppose we can stop for now, if that's what you want." Her hand, which had remained hovering at the side of your head since she stopped it, moves to flick your ear teasingly. //This//, you can dodge, <<if $volatile >50>>glaring at her afterwards.<<else>>snickering at her afterwards.<</if>> "Ha! Not bad, $firstname," she gives you a little clap.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119b]]

Ultimately, a silence falls over the three of you, despite a few attempts to strike up conversation. Perhaps you're just quiet from anticipation of what's to come, or this room is stifling to any sort of entertainment. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>This silence is blissfully interrupted when Aunt Sonia decides to speak up, her head now partially covered by a thin coif, intended to go beneath the chainmail and helm that will eventually protect her head and face in the duel to come. "I'm curious, Cal," she declares, absentmindedly fiddling with some straps on her embellished vambraces, "I didn't catch the two that brought $firstname through the doorway. I'm guessing you did on your way here, though." She looks pointedly at him, eyebrow raised. Aunt Sonia very rarely--if ever--asks questions or makes requests. She always demands an answer, or finds a way to ask without actually asking. "Arne and Otto, if I'm rememberin' right. Otto tried to bow while he was walkin', for some reason." She snorts. "Always been a deck-washer, that one: makes sense he'd be in Enota's entourage. He was probably head-over-heels at a chance to gain the //mighty// Grey Wolf's favour." Uncle Callen makes a disgruntled face. "Lass, it's been at least twenty-five years since someone's called me that. My glory-houndin' days are long past. I'll settle for steady an' boring--relatively..."<<else>>This silence is blissfully interrupted when Uncle Callen decides to speak up, his head now partially covered by a thin coif, intended to go beneath the chainmail and helm that will eventually protect his head and face in the duel to come. "Lass, who'd y'see on the way here? I know there were two Weavers with the $callenChild, but I didn't catch any faces..." "They looked like Arne and Otto, I think. Neither paid me much mind, though. I know why Arne didn't," she sneers distastefully for a moment, "but Otto's no reason to act like that. He's always been a deck-washer, though: Probably just following his new master's orders." "Mayhaps the two were simply eager to return to their master." Archer suggests as they hand yet another bottle of //something// to Uncle Callen, one he cautiously drinks while making the same face you do when you need to take medicine. "Not everything is strictly about you." She shoots them an unamused look. "Were it that you heard the very words you speak, Archer." Surprisingly, both of them actually //laugh// after that exchange. Their relationship is an odd one; both hostile and friendly--albeit rarely.<</if>> [["What's a deck-washer?" You ask, curious.|Chap2Scene120a]] [["Arne was pretty..." You mutter.|Chap2Scene120b]] [["She was nice." You muse.|Chap2Scene120c]] [[You decide to add your own thoughts. "That Otto man didn't talk much."|Chap2Scene120d]]

Aunt Sonia stifles a laugh with her fist. "Uh, nothing, kid. It's a word I shouldn't have used." <<if $stubborn >50>>"I want to know. Why say it if you can't tell us what it means?" You make your case expertly, the stubbornness in your tone a match for her own--or so you hope.<<else>>"I want to know. Please?" You resort to a touch of begging in your tone, hoping it will tide her over.<</if>> She looks over at Uncle Callen, who matches her stare with one of his own, looking not one bit impressed with her. "Alright, then..." "This should be entertaining..." Archer mutters under their breath, all the while making strange motions with their fingers, the rings upon them sparking and flashing with the movements. Surely they're performing //some// kind of ritual for the duel, but you're not sure what. It is in Archer's nature to make snide comments while doing some incredibly difficult-looking magic, however. Uncle Callen attempts to explain what a 'deck-washer' is, mumblingly. "It's, well, someone who tries to do everythin' for everyone, no matter what it is. If y'were a deck-washer, ye'd eat yer own breeches if it meant curryin' favour with someone you wanted to impress." "That just sounds like being nice..." You murmur, underwhelmed with the meaning of this supposedly illicit word. "There's a difference, $callenChild," he speaks confidently now, his lesson-teaching voice in full gear, "in bein' a good person for the bare sake of it, an' servin' others because ye want somethin' from them." You suppose he's right, though you're still disappointed the real meaning of the word wasn't something more amusing. [[Next|Chap2Scene120a2]]

Aunt Sonia snickers at your admission. "She's not bad." "//Lass.//" Uncle Callen hisses. "What?!" She throws her hands out indignantly, "I'm answering honesty with honesty." Uncle Callen gives her a blank stare, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>going back to securing bits of his armour<<else>>trying to hide an amused smile<</if>>. Aunt Sonia hums, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<</if>> You feel a flicker of recognition at the word. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Aye, lass. She is!" Uncle Callen replies, looking impressed that she'd remember such a thing, for some reason. "Why would it matter?" You ask. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, $firstname." Aunt Sonia explains. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She adds with a scoff. "Ah, but it's all the more special that she's with us, eh?" Uncle Callen adds, grinning with unfettered optimism. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<</if>>

"Arne acts the proper sort most of the time, but I've never heard a bad word of her." Aunt Sonia admits, "She's probably heard every bad word of me, though..." She adds with a light snicker. "A book the size of all Phanol's histories could not contain the vulgarisms said of you, my dear." Archer makes a quick jab, but Aunt Sonia is quick to retort. "I aim to please," she responds, voice dripping with playful snark. "Can't have you bookish types out of a hobby, can we?" They nod in lieu of a proper response, conceding this little jibe-war to a now very proud-looking Aunt Sonia. She hums, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<</if>> You feel a flicker of recognition at the word. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Aye, lass. She is!" Uncle Callen replies, looking impressed that she'd remember such a thing, for some reason. "Why would it matter?" You ask. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, $firstname." Aunt Sonia explains. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She scoffs. "Ah, but it's all the more special that she's with us, eh?" Uncle Callen adds, grinning with unfettered optimism. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<</if>>

"He'd probably been told not to, $callenChild." Uncle Callen smiles patiently. "When a Grandmaster of the Order speaks, you grow a third ear to listen better." Aunt Sonia winks. <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Another indicator that your future at the Order will be far from perfect. The Bladeweavers are a strict lot, but you're still excited to join them one day. How //couldn't// you be?<<else>>Another indicator that your future at the Order will be far from perfect. How many signs will you be shown, even before your own induction? The sight of that dark, stout Citadel shall fill you with unease until you eventually step inside, you expect, and perhaps even beyond that.<</if>> Aunt Sonia hums, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't she Vengardian?"<</if>> You feel a flicker of recognition at the word. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Aye, lass. She is!" Uncle Callen replies, looking impressed that she'd remember such a thing, for some reason. "Why would it matter?" You ask. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, $firstname." Aunt Sonia explains. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She adds with a scoff. "Ah, but it's all the more special that she's with us, eh?" Uncle Callen adds, grinning with unfettered optimism. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<</if>>

"Now that's done with," Aunt Sonia announces, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>passively looking over Uncle Callen's near-complete set of armour. "Isn't Arne Vengardian?"<<else>>moving around to test her near-complete set of armour with an excited look. "Isn't Arne Vengardian?"<</if>> You feel a flicker of recognition at the word. Vengard is a cold and mountainous place, at the very south of Phanol. You've often imagined that, when peering out from the southern edge of Sola on the odd chance you went there, you could see its jagged peaks in the distant horizon. Aunt Sonia has--quite annoyingly--explained that the mountains you see are likely in Telfrin's midlands, a far closer place to Sola than Vengard, at the world's end. "Aye, lass. She is!" Uncle Callen replies, looking impressed that she'd remember such a thing, for some reason. "Why would it matter?" You ask. "Vengard's famous for their warriors, $firstname." Aunt Sonia explains. "It's said that every man in Vengard carries a dagger from the age of ten. The ones I've met in the field definitely seemed that way." She hesitates for a moment, before continuing. "Same can't be said for the girls, mind you..." She adds with a scoff. "Ah, but it's all the more special that she's with us, eh?" Uncle Callen adds, grinning with unfettered optimism. "Mm," Archer hums studiously, "it has been quite the sticking point in Vengardian society for the past century--whether or not their women might finally serve as fighters. Women like Arne are a rare sight, especially since Vengardian authorities dissuade girls from joining the Bladeweavers in the first place. It takes a special talent to bypass those forces, or a special amount of persuasion." <<if $agab == "female">><<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You're glad you weren't born in Vengard! <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Perhaps if you'd been born there, you wouldn't have ended up as a Bladeweaver... <<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>If you'd been born there, you might have had even less of a choice on your future, being a girl. At least here, you suppose there are options after the Order, if you so choose them.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<<else>> [[Next|Chap2Scene121b]]<</if>>

"More women with weapons is never a bad thing, in my eyes. I'd drink to it, were one in my hands." She smirkingly raises an imaginary glass, and Archer scoffs. "You would drink to anything." She points at them with a strong nod. "A woman from Vengard endin' up a Weaver, 'tis a rare thing..." Uncle Callen muses. "I could count on me fingers the amount of women from Vengard I've even //seen// holdin' a sword." Aunt Sonia shrugs. "It's a backwards place, Cal. Won't let women fight, won't let you marry who you wish. It makes sense they're falling apart." "You paint a thoroughly horrid picture of the place, Sonia." Archer chides, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Of all people, you ought to know that these things are all too often exaggerated by propaganda. In fact, I know many a Vengardian who seek reform. Progress may be slow to make its march, but their cause is //blissfully// unburdened by cynicism such as yours." She snorts at them, before laughing suddenly. "You know who I'd love a //proper gander// at, Arch?" She says, voice dripping with mischief, having ignored most of what they said. Their brown eyes narrow in warning. "If you dare..." She grins as widely as the scar on her cheek will allow. "Your m--" Uncle Callen interrupts her. "Lass, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>help me put this on, eh?" He says, glaring at her while nudging his head towards you and Sam, though his finger points at a breasplate--one of the final pieces of his shiny set of armour.<<else>>let me help ya put this on, eh?" He says, glaring at her while nudging his head towards you and Sam, though he holds a breastplate--one of the final pieces of her shiny set of armour.<</if>> [[She rolls her eyes and relents, the insult going unsaid.|Chap2Scene120]]

<<if $calridanswer == "name" or $calridanswer == "Name" or $calridanswer == "my name" or $calridanswer == "My name" or $calridanswer == "MY NAME" or $calridanswer == "NAME" or $calridanswer == "a name" or $calridanswer == "A NAME">>"Aye, that's right!" He cheers, clapping your hand enthusiastically. That was fairly easy, but you can see how it might confuse some people--thankfully, you're not part of that group!<<else>>"Not quite, $callenChild!" He smiles sympathetically. "The answer's yer name. It belongs to you, but everyone else uses it, see?" <<if $volatile >= 50>>You groan. "That's so stupid..."<<else>>"That's so silly..."<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene119b]]

He chuckles softly at your outburst. "Alright, $callenChild. I'll make a note not to buy ye any riddlin' books in the future, eh?" "//Pleeease// don't," you sigh, crossing your arms. "...Did ye want to know the answer, anyway?" "No." "It's--" "''No.''" Uncle Callen grins. "Alright, then." Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him mouthing the word 'name' to Aunt Sonia. Of course the answer was something absurd like that... [[Next|Chap2Scene119b]]

<<if $patient > 50>>"Could you just tell me, instead?" You ask sweetly, "I //did// answer all those other ones..." "Ah, I can't say no..." Uncle Callen laments. "Very well then, $callenChild. It's yer name! It belongs to you, but everyone else uses it, see?"<<else>>"Tell me the answer!" You plead, bordering on indignance. Uncle Callen laughs, "Alright, then, since ye're so eager! It's yer name, $callenChild. Belongs to you, but everyone else uses it, see?"<</if>> [["...That's terrible," you mutter.|Chap2Scene118j1]] [[You snicker. "That's a good one!"|Chap2Scene118j2]]

Uncle Callen gasps in faux horror. "I'll have t'pass this criticism over to the author of '//Rascal's Riddles, Vol. 5//', $callenChild! We can't be havin' these crimes against riddlin' society, can we?" [[Next|Chap2Scene119b]]

Uncle Callen chuckles. "I'll be sure t'let the author of '//Rascal's Riddles, Vol. 5//' know ye think so, $callenChild!" [[Next|Chap2Scene119b]]

"A monument to //excess//." They mutter dourly, unlatching the lid and throwing it open. Uncle Callen groans piteously and Aunt Sonia seems to shout and laugh at the same time. With their crowding around the box's contents, you cannot see what is inside. "Callen, are we looking at the same thing?!" She hops around excitedly, as much as her <<if $mentor == "Callen">>sore leg will allow.<<else>>armour will allow.<</if>> "Unfortunately, lass," he sighs, "I think we are." "This is the best thing I've ever fucking seen." She reaches in to pull this mystery object out. "Language, Sonia." "I'm sure the kid'll be thinking it, too. Just //look at it//!" She responds, lifting the thing out of the box. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You have to put this on right now, Callen Edros, or I'll curse you until I've no tongue left to curse with."<<else>>"You have to help me put this on right now, Callen Edros, or I'll curse you until I've no tongue left to curse with."<</if>> Cradled in her hands is a steel helm, polished to a mirror shine. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>It is made in the form of Uncle Callen's personal sigil, the wolf. Styled as a greathelm, all harsh edges and strong silhouettes, it is embellished with wolven features. The top and bottom of the helmet form the beast's closed maw, with greyish-blue jewels serving as beady little eyes, fierce in their coldness. The front protrudes somewhat from the rest of the piece, forming a sharpened snout. The helmet's //actual// eye-holes seem to be hidden, placed tactically in a less-visible area of the metallic snout. Two ears, pointy and short, protrude from the rear of the helm, flattened as if the beast were constantly threatened. Aunt Sonia lifts the visor and it's as if the wolf's jaws open in a vicious snarl.<<else>>It is made in the form of her own personal sigil, the hawk. Styled as an armet helm, all smooth curves, it is embellished with birdlike features. Two wings spread from the sides of the helmet, arcing upwards to a point like two feathery horns. The visor is shaped to form the point of a beak, with two narrow slats to serve as eye-holes. Feathers are etched along the surface of the visor, inset with golden detailing. Aunt Sonia lifts the visor, and the pointy wings follow it. She moves it up and down a few times, delighting in the sturdy construction of the whole piece.<</if>> "This might be the greatest thing I've ever held in my hands." Aunt Sonia stares at the animalistic helm, unblinking. "No offense, $firstname." [["None taken." You mutter, voice full of awe. It looks incredible!|Chap2Scene123a]] <<link "<q>It looks so //silly//.</q> You snicker.">> <<goto Chap2Scene123b>> <</link>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[You give Uncle Callen a side-eye. "Do you really have to wear this?"|Chap2Scene123c]]<<else>>[[You give Aunt Sonia a side-eye. "You really want to wear this?"|Chap2Scene123c]]<</if>>

"Ye're both cracked..." Uncle Callen mutters to himself, head in hands. "You just don't know what taste is." She responds, matter-of-factly. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"This is wasted on you. Were it me going out there, I'd love to see what whoever made this would have done." She turns to Archer. "Think you could put me in cont--" "No." She stares at them. "I'll find out anyway." "I am sure you will, but I am not your servant." "You kill joy like a slaughterman." They consider her words for a moment, and half-nod. "//Your// joy." Uncle Callen coughs into his hand. "If the two of ye are done, shall I put the damnable thing on, eh?" Aunt Sonia looks excited again. "Gods, //yes//. I wish we had one of those portrait machines..." Archer hums. "I believe I have one of those in my quarters..." She scoffs. "And you didn't bring it?" They whisper in her ear, "//Your// joy..." Aunt Sonia nudges them out of the way to hand the helmet over to a displeased-looking Uncle Callen. He takes a further second to stare at it before spinning the thing around in his hands and quickly slipping it on over his coif. The visor is still open, revealing his rolling eyes, so Aunt Sonia slaps it down. He sluggishly lifts his hands from his hips for a moment before relaxing them, a tinny sound coming from where his gauntlets slap against the plates of the tassets, around his thighs. It's a motion that says, 'please don't look at me', though everybody still does. The light catches on the grey jewels every now and then, making the helmet look alive and blinking. It's uncanny. "Abrian folklore describes ancient wolf-men who would stalk the northern mountains," Archer paces around him, taking the odd glance at the full set of armour, "if they were anything like this, they must have been quite the sight to behold..." "That folklore isn't Abrian, actually." Aunt Sonia corrects them, and three pairs of eyes turn to look at her, surprised. "It comes from the mountainfolk that Abria conquered a few centuries back." When she notices everybody's looking at her, she puts on a confused expression. "What? I can read books too. You aren't special." She glances at Archer, who snorts. "A pity there are far worse things than wolf-men wandering the wilds, these days..." Uncle Callen's stern cough sounds dull, echoing from inside the lupine helmet.<<else>>"I'm glad it's me fighting today. At least I can //appreciate// excellent craftsmanship." "I'll not even imagine what they'd have me wearin' in yer place..." He mutters shiveringly. Aunt Sonia stares into the empty eyes of her helmet. "I can see it now: a big wolf's head, made of steel. Your sweaty little face inside, cursing the thing with every step you take. Ha! Now help me put this on." She switches tone quickly, staring Uncle Callen down until he has little choice but to oblige her. He stares at the helmet in his hands with utter disdain, while Aunt Sonia bows her head somewhat to make putting the thing on easier--not that it really matters with his height. When it's finally on and tightly strapped to the bottom of her chin, she spreads her arms wide as if to say, 'look at me, in all my bird-like glory'. You cannot lie to yourself, it is a fairly impressive sight. Aunt Sonia gleams in her armour, and the helm's eye slots are angled slightly downwards in a predatory fashion. "You bring to mind a shield-maid of the old Vengardian poems. They wore wings on their helms, too. Only, you don't fight in Belrom's name, thankfully." Archer paces around her, glancing at odd parts of the set of gleaming armour. "Is that a no-strings-attached compliment, Arch?" Aunt Sonia's voice sounds slightly booming and dull, echoing around in her avian helm. They shrug. "Quality is quality, and I do so love a mythical allusion..."<</if>> [[Archer reaches into the chest to pull something else out.|Chap2Scene124b]]

She looks positively flummoxed at your dismissal of this--apparently great--helmet. "Uh, //yes//?! Did I not raise you to have any taste, kid?" "The $callenChild knows what's what, Sonia." Uncle Callen snickers, nodding at you softly. "I'm as glad as anythin' that it's not me goin' out there. Can ye //imagine// what they'd have me wearin?" Aunt Sonia stares into the empty eyes of her helmet. "I can see it now: a big wolf's head, made of steel. Your sweaty little face inside, cursing the thing with every step you take. Ha! Now help me put this on." She switches tone quickly, staring Uncle Callen down until he has little choice but to oblige her. He stares at the helmet in his hands with utter disdain, while Aunt Sonia bows her head somewhat to make putting the thing on easier--not that it really matters with his height. When it's finally on and tightly strapped to the bottom of her chin, she spreads her arms wide as if to say, 'look at me, in all my bird-like glory'. You cannot lie to yourself, it is a fairly impressive sight. Aunt Sonia gleams in her armour, and the helm's eye slots are angled slightly downwards in a predatory fashion. "You bring to mind a shield-maid of the old Vengardian poems. They wore wings on their helms, too. Only, you don't fight in Belrom's name, thankfully." Archer paces around her, glancing at odd parts of the set of gleaming armour. "Is that a no-strings-attached compliment, Arch?" Aunt Sonia's voice sounds slightly booming and dull, echoing around in her avian helm. They shrug. "Quality is quality, and I do so love a mythical allusion..."<<else>>Uncle Callen frowns at his helmet. "We're of the same mind, $callenChild..." "Neither of you have a tasteful bone in your body." Aunt Sonia grumbles roughly, still appraising the helmet that is not hers. "Were it me going out there, I'd love to see what whoever made this would have done." She turns to Archer. "Think you could put me in cont--" "No." She stares at them. "I'll find out anyway." "I am sure you will, but I am not your servant." "You kill joy like a slaughterman." They consider her words for a moment, and half-nod. "//Your// joy." Uncle Callen coughs into his hand. "If the two of ye are done, shall I put the damnable thing on, eh?" Aunt Sonia looks excited again. "Gods, //yes//. I wish we had one of those portrait machines..." Archer hums. "I believe I have one of those in my quarters..." She scoffs. "And you didn't bring it?" They whisper in her ear, "//Your// joy..." Aunt Sonia nudges them out of the way to hand the helmet over to a displeased-looking Uncle Callen. He takes a further second to stare at it before spinning the thing around in his hands and quickly slipping it on over his coif. The visor is still open, revealing his rolling eyes, so Aunt Sonia slaps it down. He sluggishly lifts his hands from his hips for a moment before relaxing them, a tinny sound coming from where his gauntlets slap against the plates of the tassets, around his thighs. It's a motion that says, 'please don't look at me', though everybody still does. The light catches on the grey jewels every now and then, making the helmet look alive and blinking. It's uncanny. "Abrian folklore describes ancient wolf-men who would stalk the northern mountains," Archer paces around him, taking the odd glance at the full set of armour, "if they were anything like this, they must have been quite the sight to behold..." "That folklore isn't Abrian, actually." Aunt Sonia corrects them, and three pairs of eyes turn to look at her, surprised. "It comes from the mountainfolk that Abria conquered a few centuries back." When she notices everybody's looking at her, she puts on a confused expression. "What? I can read books too. You aren't special." She glances at Archer, who snorts. "A pity there are far worse things than wolf-men wandering the wilds, these days..." Uncle Callen's stern cough sounds dull, echoing from inside the lupine helmet.<</if>> [[Archer reaches into the chest to pull something else out.|Chap2Scene124b]]

"A mantle for the duel was in order," Archer explains, pulling out a thick bundle of cloth from the box, "though some adjustments were made to fit your build and choice of animal." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Ye're callin' me fat, eh?" Uncle Callen chuckles, lifting the visor on his helm. "Let's see it, then. Nothin' can be so bad as this lump of metal on me head..."<<else>>"I'll hear no more about my //build//, thanks very much." Aunt Sonia grunts. "Now hurry up and unfold the thing, nothing can beat this." She says, knocking her helm with a fist.<</if>> Archer unfolds the cloth like a sheet, shaking it with a sound like to the evening winds you often hear when Sola falls silent and night begins to take over. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>The mantle is a slender cape, were it affixed to Uncle Callen's back it certainly wouldn't go over his shoulders, and short enough that it would never touch the ground unless he knelt. It looks light and flowy, made of silk and bearing the image of a running wolf across its surface.<<else>>The mantle is a slender cape, were it affixed to Aunt Sonia's back it certainly wouldn't go over her shoulders, and short enough that it would never touch the ground unless she knelt. It looks light and flowy, made of silk and bearing the image of a hawk in flight across its surface.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen appraises it with a more favourable look in his eyes than when he'd seen the helm. "Well, that's not half bad." He turns so Archer can affix the thing to some clasps on his pauldrons, and does a little spin to show it off. "Do I look like a princess, Archie?" He asks, dancing a little jig in all of his steel-plated glory. His fun is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, startling all but Archer. "I forgot to mention that somebody would be coming soon. Apologies." They say, not looking particularly sorry at all.<<else>>Aunt Sonia gives the thing a passing curiosity, but it's obvious she much prefers the helm. "Get it on me, then." She grunts, turning for Archer to clasp it to her pauldrons. She reaches behind her to grab the mantle, tugging it a few times to check its rigidity. "Should tear fairly easily if needs be ... very good." You can see the slight motion of her nodding from beneath the helmet. Her analysis is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, startling all but Archer. "I forgot to mention that somebody would be coming soon. Apologies." They say, not looking particularly sorry at all.<</if>> "How do you know that?" You ask. They smile, a small and smug thing. "I placed a hex within the hallway leading here, so I could anticipate arrivals. It wouldn't do to have my work diminished by an unexpected jolt." It makes you wonder why Archer bothers with all this Bladeweaver business, when they could surely make uncountable riches as somebody's security-mage. [[Archer languidly strolls to the door, opening it.|Chap2Scene125b]]

"It //does//, $callenChild. Thank ye!" Uncle Callen nods agreeingly. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You didn't raise the kid with any taste, apparently, Cal." Aunt Sonia makes a face at you. "Were it me going out there, I'd love to see what whoever made this would have done." She turns to Archer. "Think you could put me in cont--" "No." She stares at them. "I'll find out anyway." "I am sure you will, but I am not your servant." "You kill joy like a slaughterman." They consider her words for a moment, and half-nod. "//Your// joy." Uncle Callen coughs into his hand. "If the two of ye are done, shall I put the damnable thing on, eh?" Aunt Sonia looks excited again. "Gods, //yes//. I wish we had one of those portrait machines..." Archer hums. "I believe I have one of those in my quarters at the Academy..." She scoffs. "And you didn't bring it?" They whisper in her ear, "//Your// joy..." Aunt Sonia nudges them out of the way to hand the helmet over to a displeased-looking Uncle Callen. He takes a further second to stare at it before spinning the thing around in his hands and quickly slipping it on over his coif. The visor is still open, revealing his rolling eyes, so Aunt Sonia slaps it down. He sluggishly lifts his hands from his hips for a moment before relaxing them, a tinny sound coming from where his gauntlets slap against the plates of the tassets, around his thighs. It's a motion that says, 'please don't look at me', though everybody still does. The light catches on the grey jewels every now and then, making the helmet look alive and blinking. It's uncanny. "Abrian folklore describes ancient wolf-men who would stalk the northern mountains," Archer paces around him, taking the odd glance at the full set of armour, "if they were anything like this, they must have been quite the sight to behold..." "That folklore isn't Abrian, actually." Aunt Sonia corrects them, and three pairs of eyes turn to look at her, surprised. "It comes from the mountainfolk that Abria conquered a few centuries back." When she notices everybody's looking at her, she puts on a confused expression. "What? I can read books too. You aren't special." She glances at Archer, who snorts. "A pity there are far worse things than wolf-men wandering the wilds, these days..." Uncle Callen's stern cough sounds dull, echoing from inside the lupine helmet.<<else>>"How did I manage to raise you without any taste, kid?" Aunt Sonia shakes her head morosely. "This is what the high life is about; stupid helmets and armour that'll tarnish the moment someone poor thinks about //looking// at it." "The $callenChild knows what's what, Sonia." Uncle Callen snickers, nodding at you softly. "I'm as glad as anythin' that it's not me goin' out there. Can ye //imagine// what they'd have me wearin?" Aunt Sonia stares into the empty eyes of her helmet. "I can see it now: a big wolf's head, made of steel. Your sweaty little face inside, cursing the thing with every step you take. Ha! Now help me put this on." She switches tone quickly, staring Uncle Callen down until he has little choice but to oblige her. He stares at the helmet in his hands with utter disdain, while Aunt Sonia bows her head somewhat to make putting the thing on easier--not that it really matters with his height. When it's finally on and tightly strapped to the bottom of her chin, she spreads her arms wide as if to say, 'look at me, in all my bird-like glory'. You cannot lie to yourself, it is a fairly impressive sight. Aunt Sonia gleams in her armour, and the helm's eye slots are angled slightly downwards in a predatory fashion. "You bring to mind a shield-maid of the old Vengardian poems. They wore wings on their helms, too. Only, you don't fight in Belrom's name, thankfully." Archer paces around her, glancing at odd parts of the set of gleaming armour. "Is that a no-strings-attached compliment, Arch?" Aunt Sonia's voice sounds slightly booming and dull, echoing around in her avian helm. They shrug. "Quality is quality, and I do so love a mythical allusion..."<</if>> [[Archer reaches into the chest to pull something else out.|Chap2Scene124b]]

You twist your neck around the back of your chair to get a look at whoever it is that's knocked. Looming over Archer, standing at least a head and a half taller than the mage, is a square-jawed man with thick sideburns and a hardy look. A scratchy-looking cloak is clasped around his left shoulder with a Master's pin, though it hangs far closer to his body than it should. You know the reason why: he is missing his left arm. Pointing straight up from behind his right shoulder is the curved blade of a glaive; more silver than green, but Empyrean nonetheless. The rest of him is hidden by dark, relatively plain clothing. His voice, when he finally speaks, is deep and strongly accented, reminding you a little of Sam's. Only, the boy couldn't speak this deep and rumbling if he tried his absolute hardest. "Archmage Ryburn," he says, confusion seeping into his detached tone. "Were you not assigned to a different task when these proceedings were first planned?" The mage steps back, letting him step in to the room slowly. "I had myself reassigned. Lightwork is not my specialty, nor particularly to my tastes." "Hmph." He grunts, before turning to look at Aunt Sonia, whereupon his expression becomes slightly less dour. "It has been a long while, Sonia. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>The armour becomes you well." Aunt Sonia bows as much as she's able to in the armour, which ends up as a slight nod of her head and torso. "That it has, Master Gwyndon. I'm of the opinion that everyone should be wearing this sort of thing." She speaks with a slight reverence in her tone, completely unlike her usual self.<<else>>I mislike the way you style your hair." Aunt Sonia bows deeply, though you can still spy an embarrassed blush forming on her cheeks. "That it has, Master Gwyndon. The change was hardly by choice, if you'd believe it." She speaks with a slight reverence in her tone, completely unlike her usual self.<</if>> Surprisingly, this Master Gwyndon smirks and bids her to rise. "We are equals, Master Wierszy, and equals do not bow to one another." [[Next|Chap2Scene126f]]

"We'd best stand and greet the man, $callenChild," Uncle Callen whispers to you, so you oblige. You are familiar with this Master Gwyndon--he's the man who trained Aunt Sonia, so of course he's been mentioned often--but have never met him in person. If you remember correctly, he still lives in Abria, and Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia moved to Sola from their prior Risen City, Florre, before you were even born. Master Gwyndon speaks in hushed tones with Aunt Sonia, though his dark gaze flicks to you and Uncle Callen upon your approach. "I'm sure you remember Callen, right?" Aunt Sonia asks with a cheeky twinkle in her eye, looking between these two men who she--quite literally--looks up to. "I could scarcely forget." For the first time, a proper smile splits Master Gwyndon's harsh features, and he holds out a gloved hand which Uncle Callen firmly grasps with his own. "Master Edros, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>I commend you for your service today. Win or lose, know that the rank and file look upon you with a reverence reserved for a saint." "Well, that's good t'hear, but I had little choice in the matter," Uncle Callen chuckles sheepishly. Master Gwyndon nods seriously. "Of course. I was prepared to stand in your place, but the same thing that has kept me from the Grand Council kept me from this honour..." Uncle Callen sighs. "More gold than sense, they have ... I'm sure ye'll make it one day, Cadoch. I'll put in me best word, should I ever make the Council--whatever sway my word would have in Florre, after all these years, 'course." The other man nods in gratitude. "Should the day come, it would be most welcome, yes." Then, he looks at you. "Sun shine on you, $child. You'll scarcely remember me, hm?"<<else>>I offer my thanks for supporting Wierszy today. Though it comes as little surprise, given what you have done for her in the past." "//Don't mention the house...///" You hear Aunt Sonia mutter under her breath. "Aye, it's never been a burden. She's family, Cadoch." Uncle Callen smiles. "I'd figured she was from the beginnin', but she set it in stone once she moved in with me." Master Gwyndon quirks an eyebrow, glancing at Aunt Sonia. "She did?" Aunt Sonia interrupts, "Housing here is //hellish//, Master. I'm better served living with someone who can stand me." The sideburned man releases a seemingly-rare chuckle. "That must invite questions, given the presence of the $child." She grins, strained. "Anyone who suggests we're together like //that// never does so a second time, is all I'll say." You've seen that happen the odd time. It's never a pretty sight. Uncle Callen butts in, "Ah, speakin' of the $callenChild..." He turns Master Gwyndon to face you. The harsh-featured man bows his head towards you. "Sun shine on you, $child. You'll scarcely remember me, hm?"<</if>> [[You try to make the best impression you can on Master Gwyndon. (Chivalrous +)|Chap2Scene127e][$chivalrous to $chivalrous + 1]] [[To be honest, you're quite intimidated by this man. Whoever made Aunt Sonia the way she is, has to be a terror in their own right. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene127d][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [["Hello, M-Master," you stammer. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene127f][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [["You've got no arm." You state, matter-of-factly.|Chap2Scene127b]] [["Where did your arm go?" You ask innocently.|Chap2Scene127c]]

Master Gwyndon blinks. "Indeed, I do not." "Well, why not?" You ask, slightly miffed that he isn't elaborating like you expected. Is he an idiot? "That's enough, $firstname." Aunt Sonia scolds you, frowning. "Master Gwyndon puts up with enough of this from his students to take it from you." "It is alright, Wierszy." Master Gwyndon chuckles lightly. "I'll not admonish a child's curiosity, though I do not recall ever having 'put up' with such talk from my students in the past..." You tap your foot impatiently, still waiting for an answer. Aunt Sonia glares daggers at you again, but it's worth it because Master Gwyndon finally turns and speaks to you again. "I was born this way, young one. Some tend to be disappointed when I tell them--perhaps I will start speaking of a ferocious beast that tore it off in a hunt, rather than the mundanity of a poor birth." The harsh-looking man smiles wistfully, and shrugs. "But I am a terrible liar." "That's where Sonia gets it from!" Uncle Callen laughs, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>which gets louder when Aunt Sonia tries to elbow him in the side, forgetting he's covered in plate armour.<<else>>earning a plate-covered elbow in the side from Aunt Sonia.<</if>> Master Gwyndon addresses you once more. "Tell me, $firstname, have you a second name? I must admit," he says, standing and turning to your guardians, "the rules around warding are foggy in my mind." "The $callenChild took <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my name<<else>>Sonia's name<</if>>, Cadoch." Uncle Callen explains. "Mm," he hums, looking at you again. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Edros is a mighty name to live up to. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<<else>>Wierszy is a new name, but a mighty one all the same. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<</if>> "He's going to tell you about how he got his name now, kid." Aunt Sonia sighs, though with a nostalgic twinkle in her eyes. [[Next|Chap2Scene128b]]

This earns you a hissed //$callenChild// from Uncle Callen, but Master Gwyndon doesn't seem offended in the least. "It is alright, Callen. I'll not begrudge a child $their curiosity." The grizzled Master kneels to address you, draping his arm over a knee. "I never had it in the first place, young one. I was simply born this way, with one arm." "That can //happen//?!" You squeal, aghast, looking frantically at your Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia. What if you'd been born that way? "It can," Master Gwyndon says, voice soothing despite its roughness, "but only very rarely. I was simply unlucky, but I do not curse my condition. I manage well enough with the one arm," he chuckles, nodding towards his Empyrean glaive. "I could speak to some acquaintances, you know." Archer says off-handedly. "I hear that the realm of magi-prosthetics is making strides. I find there is little in this world that cannot be improved upon after the fact, Master Gwyndon." The sideburned man shakes his head strongly. "No, no. It has been far too long for me to consider such a thing. I wager I would be a worse fighter with two arms at this point than one. I am how the Gods made me," he sighs, "and I am comfortable with that." Archer nods cordially, looking slightly chastised. "Very well, I ... apologise for any offense caused." "Be assured that you caused none, Archmage Ryburn." "//That's a first...//" Aunt Sonia mutters. After a few moments, Master Gwyndon speaks to you again. "Tell me, $firstname, have you a second name? I must admit," he says, turning to your guardians, "the rules around warding are foggy in my mind." "The $callenChild took <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my name<<else>>Sonia's name<</if>>, Cadoch." Uncle Callen explains. "Mm," he hums, looking at you again. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Edros is a mighty name to live up to. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<<else>>Wierszy is a new name, but a mighty one all the same. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<</if>> "He's going to tell you about how he got his name now, kid." Aunt Sonia sighs, though with a nostalgic twinkle in her eyes. [[Next|Chap2Scene128b]]

You stand, back straight and in a loud, clear voice, say, "It's good to meet you, Master Gwyndon. I'm $firstname." Master Gwyndon looks taken aback, glancing between your Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each shrug. "I ... was well aware, though your greeting is excellent." He drops to one knee, resting his arm atop it as he speaks to you. "When I last met you, you could not form the smallest of words. Now you charm with the best of them, it seems. 'Tis a funny thing, time..." You just smile cordially at his words--partly because you don't really know what to say to that. What do //you// know about time?! "Tell me, $firstname, have you a second name? I must admit," he says, standing and turning to your guardians, "the rules around warding are foggy in my mind." "The $callenChild took <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my name<<else>>Sonia's name<</if>>, Cadoch." Uncle Callen explains. "Mm," he hums, looking at you again. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Edros is a mighty name to live up to. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<<else>>Wierszy is a new name, but a mighty one all the same. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<</if>> "He's going to tell you about how he got his name now, kid." Aunt Sonia sighs, though with a nostalgic twinkle in her eyes. [[Next|Chap2Scene128b]]

You inch your way behind Uncle Callen's leg, giving Master Gwyndon a quick glance as your only greeting. "What's the matter, $callenChild?" Uncle Callen whispers, putting a hand on your shoulder. You mumble something unintelligble, and he sighs in sympathy. "There is no need for nerves, young one." Master Gwyndon says, voice turned soft in spite of its roughness, as he kneels with his arm resting on his knee, gazing hard at you. "I was not the most confident child, myself, but the nerves will come. Even this one," he nods towards Aunt Sonia, "was something of a quiet girl when I first met her." "It didn't last long," she laughs. "Soon enough, I didn't know what fear meant anymore." "Often to your detriment..." Master Gwyndon grumbles, then looks at you again. "Tell me, $firstname, have you a second name? I must admit," he says, standing and turning to your guardians, "the rules around warding are foggy in my mind." "The $callenChild took <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my name<<else>>Sonia's name<</if>>, Cadoch." Uncle Callen explains. "Mm," he hums, looking at you again. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Edros is a mighty name to live up to. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<<else>>Wierszy is a new name, but a mighty one all the same. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<</if>> "He's going to tell you about how he got his name now, kid." Aunt Sonia sighs, though with a nostalgic twinkle in her eyes. [[Next|Chap2Scene128b]]

Master Gwyndon looks taken aback, and slightly impressed, glancing between Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen. "Was this rehearsed?" He asks with a suspicious look. "No," Aunt Sonia admits, "that's just $them." "Well," he smiles at you, crouching to your height while resting his arm on a knee, "you needn't address me as such, $firstname. You are a long way from apprenticeship at the Academy, and I find age has loosened my stricter sensibilities. I might even allow you to call me Cadoch, every now and then." He winks quickly, and stands once more. "Tell me, $firstname, have you a second name? I must admit," he says, turning to your guardians, "the rules around warding are foggy in my mind." "The $callenChild took <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my name<<else>>Sonia's name<</if>>, Cadoch." Uncle Callen explains. "Mm," he hums, looking at you again. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Edros is a mighty name to live up to. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<<else>>Wierszy is a new name, but a mighty one all the same. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<</if>> "He's going to tell you about how he got his name now, kid." Aunt Sonia sighs, though with a nostalgic twinkle in her eyes. [[Next|Chap2Scene128b]]

"It is a good story," he protests, "one I am all-too-happy to pass down to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my good friend's protégé.<<else>>the next step in my lineage of Bladeweavers, as it were.<</if>> In Abria, your last name is given by your family--as it is in Telfrin--though there is a difference. Some who reach sufficient social standing have the option of choosing a new name for their lineage, as a way to truly make a name for themselves. Such options are available to the poor and nameless, of course, though it is that much more difficult. I was born poor and armless, the last son of a failing fishing village in a place with precious few fish. "One day, our village was set upon by those seeking capable fighting stock. What they found was me, barely ten, trembling with a gutting knife in my hand. Suffice to say, they found me wanting indeed, but one of the leaders of the band took pity--much as one like he could have in such a time--and taught me to fight with my one arm, using what I knew of spear-fishing as a foundation. "I was quite the spearman by twelve," he smiles wistfully, "and had become ingrained with my fellow mercenaries. 'Little Caddy', they would call me. Some of them pooled resources to send me home, so that I might help the place I had come from, in some way..." "Master, do you think--" Aunt Sonia tries to interrupt, but the sideburned man reasons with her. "These tales ought to be told, Wierszy. The nature of the world is not always kind, but it can become that way, with the right knowledge." "Alright, then..." Master Gwyndon continues, "Once I had accrued a hefty sum, I departed the band, travelling with the odd caravan who would take pity on a ragged little boy, despite the spear he carried. When I finally reached my old home ... I still see the ruins in my sleep, my $child. Something no child should see. There was nothing left to save, and so I went where my skills might be of some good: Florre, where the Bladeweavers were at their most plentiful in Abria. I trained so hard I thought I might die, some days, and eventually I graduated, choosing a design I recalled from my village for my weapon," at this, he pats his Empyrean glaive with his hand. It's curved, with a small barb near the tip. It //does// look like something one might fish with, now that you think about it. "It would not do for me to graduate the Order without a name, so I chose one that seemed fitting. My old village was called Gwynn'tonu, meaning 'white waves' in my mother tongue. The world might have forgotten the humble place of my birth, but I would not let it forget me." Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia listen with soft smiles on their faces. They have surely heard this story before, and are waiting to see your response to it. [["So you picked your own name? That's amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene129b][$cold to $cold - 1]] [["Did you ever find the mercenaries who took you?" You ask.|Chap2Scene129c]] [["I'm sorry about your village..." You frown.|Chap2Scene129d]] [["Could I pick my own name one day?" You ask.|Chap2Scene129e]]

Master Gwyndon snorts. "It gladdens me that you think so. Were it that my own students could be so easily impressed!" Aunt Sonia mumbles, "//I was impressed//..." "Regardless," he continues, "what I wish to get across is this: there will be those who seek to pressure you over your name, over your assumed lack of deserving of it. Pay them no mind, $firstname. Not now, and not ever. One day, as I did, you will carve a name for yourself, one way or another. Soon, the people of the world may know you as '$firstname of Sola', if you work hard enough for it." [[Next|Chap2Scene130b]]

"Once I was a made man, I tried. I found little, given that it had been more than a decade since I left them." He smiles sadly. "I would have appreciated the chance to pay back their kindness in letting me leave. "Regardless," he continues, "what I wish to get across is this: there will be those who seek to pressure you over your name, over your assumed lack of deserving of it. Pay them no mind, $firstname. Not now, and not ever. One day, as I did, you will carve a name for yourself, one way or another. Soon, the people of the world may know you as '$firstname of Sola', if you work hard enough for it." [[Next|Chap2Scene130b]]

"As am I," Master Gwyndon sighs sadly. "But there was naught to be done. Had I stayed, I would have faded with it. I only wish..." He begins, but shakes his head. "No matter. "Regardless," he continues, "what I wish to get across is this: there will be those who seek to pressure you over your name, over your assumed lack of deserving of it. Pay them no mind, $firstname. Not now, and not ever. One day, as I did, you will carve a name for yourself, one way or another. Soon, the people of the world may know you as '$firstname of Sola', if you work hard enough for it." [[Next|Chap2Scene130b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"What's wrong with mine?!" Uncle Callen protests indignantly.<<else>>"Beg your pardon, $firstname?" Aunt Sonia coughs loudly.<</if>> "I believe such a custom is not present in the Telfrin-adjacent Risen Cities, unfortunately," Master Gwyndon smiles a bit at your boldness, "though I am sure you will carve a name for yourself, one way or another. One day people may know you as '$firstname of Sola', if you work hard enough for it." [[Next|Chap2Scene130b]]

You stand, back straight and in a loud, clear voice, say, "It's good to meet you, Master Gwyndon. I'm $firstname. Master Gwyndon looks taken aback, glancing between your Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, who each shrug. "I ... was well aware, though your greeting is excellent." He drops to one knee, resting his arm atop it as he speaks to you. "When I last met you, you could not form the smallest of words. Now you charm with the best of them, it seems. 'Tis a funny thing, time..." You just smile cordially at his words--partly because you don't really know what to say to that. What do //you// know about time?! "Tell me, $firstname, have you a second name? I must admit," he says, standing and turning to your guardians, "the rules around warding are foggy in my mind." "The $callenChild took <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my name<<else>>Sonia's name<</if>>, Cadoch." Uncle Callen explains. "Mm," he hums, looking at you again. "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Edros is a mighty name to live up to. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<<else>>Wierszy is a new name, but a mighty one all the same. $firstname $lastname, I expect, will be a storied name in our histories, one day. Lofty expectations of you are sure to be had, but do not let them weigh you down, little one."<</if>> "He's going to tell you about how he got his name now, kid." Aunt Sonia sighs, though with a nostalgic twinkle in her eyes. [[Next|Chap2Scene128.5a]]

"It is a good story," he protests, "one I am all-too-happy to pass down to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>my good friend's protégé.<<else>>the next step in my lineage of Bladeweavers, as it were.<</if>> In Abria, your last name is given by your family--as it is in Telfrin--though there is a difference. Some who reach sufficient social standing have the option of choosing a new name for their lineage, as a way to truly make a name for themselves. Such options are available to the poor and nameless, of course, though it is that much more difficult. I was born poor and armless, the last son of a failing fishing village in a place with precious few fish. "One day, our village was set upon by those seeking capable fighting stock. What they found was me, barely ten, trembling with a gutting knife in my hand. Suffice to say, they found me wanting indeed, but one of the leaders of the band took pity--much as one like he could have in such a time--and taught me to fight with my one arm, using what I knew of spear-fishing as a foundation. "I was quite the spearman by twelve," he smiles wistfully, "and had become ingrained with my fellow mercenaries. 'Little Caddy', they would call me. Some of them pooled resources to send me home, so that I might help the place I had come from, in some way..." "Master, do you think--" Aunt Sonia tries to interrupt, but the sideburned man reasons with her. "These tales ought to be told, Wierszy. The nature of the world is not always kind, but it can become that way, with the right knowledge." "Alright, then..." Master Gwyndon continues, "Once I had accrued a hefty sum, I departed the band, travelling with the odd caravan who would take pity on a ragged little boy, despite the spear he carried. When I finally reached my old home ... I still see the ruins in my sleep, my $child. Something no child should see. There was nothing left to save, and so I went where my skills might be of some good: Florre, where the Bladeweavers were at their most plentiful in Abria. I trained so hard I thought I might die, some days, and eventually I graduated, choosing a design I recalled from my village for my weapon," at this, he pats his Empyrean glaive with his hand. It's curved, with a small barb near the tip. It //does// look like something one might fish with, now that you think about it. "It would not do for me to graduate the Order without a name, so I chose one that seemed fitting. My old village was called Gwynn'tonu, meaning 'white waves' in my mother tongue. The world might have forgotten the humble place of my birth, but I would not let it forget me." Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia listen with soft smiles on their faces. They have surely heard this story before, and are waiting to see your response to it. [["So you picked your own name? That's amazing!" (Cold -)|Chap2Scene128.6a][$cold to $cold - 1]] [["Did you ever find the mercenaries who took you?" You ask.|Chap2Scene128.6b]] [["I'm sorry about your village..." You frown.|Chap2Scene128.6c]] [["Could I pick my own name one day?" You ask.|Chap2Scene128.6d]]

Everything moves rather quickly after that. Master Gwyndon, as he mentioned, was indeed at the head of a much larger Bladeweaver escort intended for <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen on his<<else>>Aunt Sonia on her<</if>> way to the arena, with the rest of you taking a different path to the stands. <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">><<if $mentor == "Sonia">>You bid her goodbye hesitantly, making her promise, again, that she would not get hurt in the duel. "Do you take me for a loser?" Is all she said, winking at you with her helmet held at her hip, having declared it was, 'amazing, but too hot to wear inside.'<<else>>You bid him goodbye hesitantly, making him promise, again that he would not get hurt in the duel. "I'll try me best, $callenChild, but there're plenty of healers here, so I'll be fine should anythin' happen, alright?" Was his gentle assurance, as he gave you a wide but soft smile. He'd taken his helm off as soon as he could, not caring that he would only have to don the thing later on anyway.<</if>><<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">><<if $callenClose >= 50>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a warm hug--as warm as you can get hugging armour--and a hearty wave as you walked the other way.<<elseif $callenClose <= 49 and $callenClose >= 40>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a detached and clipped farewell.<<else>>You hardly even bid $mentorThem goodbye, only a muted 'bye' upon Aunt Sonia's insistence.<</if>><<else>><<if $soniaClose >= 50>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a warm hug--as warm as you can get hugging armour--and a hearty wave as you walked the other way.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 49 and $soniaClose >= 40>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a detached and clipped farewell.<<else>>You hardly even bid $mentorThem goodbye, only a muted 'bye' upon Uncle Callen's insistence.<</if>><</if>><</if>> You end up in an area extremely close to the floor of the arena, hard-packed dirt that's been dented from events past. You are below even the premier seating that overhangs the rest of the stands, where banners for many of Telfrin's great houses have already been set up. There's the flaming bull of House Tiero, the silver scales of House Undruf, and so many more that you can hardly recall, though it seems much of the nobility is yet to arrive. Looking over the polished wooden railing provides you with a few of the very perimeter of the floor, panelled with dark wood. It's an odd detail, but craning your neck further reveals a recessed area beneath this very stand. It must be where the participants go in-between bouts, for support and provisions. There are several large iron gates dotted around the edge, too. You can only imagine how many people could come riding through those for the massive group melees, and the //ship battles// you've heard about in arenas like this. How would that work?! <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen pulls you back by your collar before you lean any further forward, chuckling at how you startle.<<else>>Aunt Sonia pulls you back by your collar before you lean any further forward. "I don't need you breaking your neck before the fighting even starts, kid."<</if>> "Are we //early//?" Sam wonders aloud while looking around your fancy little seating area, separated from the next section by a thick wooden divider, engraved with the sorts of fanciful patterns you've seen in many Solan establishments. "I can hardly see anyone..." Archer, already perched in a plush chair of their own in the shade, answers him. "I believe the stands are just opening to the public now. They like to stagger these things so that the nobles have a peaceful entrance, difficult as their lives are." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia stifles a laugh. "Keep it down, Arch! Someone'll overhear and have us thrown out there to fight a lion or something." They shrug, drumming their ringed fingers on the arm of their chair, each ring flickering with light upon each tap. "I reckon I could kill a lion."<<else>>"Archie, ain't hardly the place for commentary, eh?" Uncle Callen chastises. In response, Archer points up to a nearby noble's lounge, upon which a purple-and-green standard hangs, depicting an owl clutching a scroll and sword in each of its clawed feet. "I might ask some of our neighbours if they agree, hm?" He sighs in response, rubbing his sore head.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene129]]

"Well," Master Gwyndon sighs softly, "I believe I have kept you long enough, with my prattling. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance once more, $firstname, though we will need to leave shortly. The exhibition is soon to begin," he turns to Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen as he finishes speaking, brushing the front of his dark outfit down with his hand. All of a sudden, it's like he's back to the gloomy Master he presents himself as. "O' course, Cadoch." Uncle Callen smiles, glancing towards the open door. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Will ye be comin' with me to the arena?" "I will, with a few others. Grandmaster Enota wishes to speak with you just before the duel begins, so she has elected to watch from the ground floors." "Ah, joy." Uncle Callen grins, strained.<<else>>"Will ye be comin' with us to watch?" "Unfortunately not. I, with a few others, will be going with Wierszy to the ground floors." Master Gwyndon turns to speak to Aunt Sonia, "Grandmaster Enota will also be in attendance, so prepare yourself accordingly." "Oh, that's just fantastic." Aunt Sonia sighs, "Well, cheers for the warning, Master."<</if>> "Ah, before I forget!" Uncle Callen gasps, like he'd forgotten something. "This," he gestures awkwardly with his hands to Sam, still sat in his chair, "is young Samuel Alban. He's the $callenChild's companion for the day, as it were. He's seein' the city after moving with his father last month. They're right next to us, with a shop and everythin'!" Master Gwyndon nods cordially at the boy. Perhaps his willingness to accommodate a child has been drained by you. "A fellow son of Abria, hm? I trust you are enjoying Sola as much as I have in the past." With the way he says it, it doesn't seem like he's ever really enjoyed it at all. "I might just visit your father's shop, should I make a visit while I am here." "Thanks, mister!" Sam chirps, smiling unabashedly at the dour Bladeweaver. "An' pa would love that! He'd love to talk to someone from back there. He misses home." His mouth twists slightly, no longer a full smile, "Guess I do too, a bit..." "In time, I am sure you will come to see Sola as such," Master Gwyndon reasons with him, "there are worse places to make a home." [[Next|Chap2Scene128.8]]

Everything moves rather quickly after that. Master Gwyndon, as he mentioned, was indeed at the head of a much larger Bladeweaver escort intended for <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen on his<<else>>Aunt Sonia on her<</if>> way to the arena, with the rest of you taking a different path to the stands. <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">><<if $mentor == "Sonia">>You bid her goodbye hesitantly, making her promise, again, that she would not get hurt in the duel. "Do you take me for a loser?" Is all she said, winking at you with her helmet held at her hip, having declared it was, 'amazing, but too hot to wear inside.'<<else>>You bid him goodbye hesitantly, making him promise, again that he would not get hurt in the duel. "I'll try me best, $callenChild, but there're plenty of healers here, so I'll be fine should anythin' happen, alright?" Was his gentle assurance, as he gave you a wide but soft smile. He'd taken his helm off as soon as he could, not caring that he would only have to don the thing later on anyway.<</if>><<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">><<if $callenClose >= 50>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a warm hug--as warm as you can get hugging armour--and a hearty wave as you walked the other way.<<elseif $callenClose <= 49 and $callenClose >= 40>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a detached and clipped farewell.<<else>>You hardly even bid $mentorThem goodbye, only a muted 'bye' upon Aunt Sonia's insistence.<</if>><<else>><<if $soniaClose >= 50>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a warm hug--as warm as you can get hugging armour--and a hearty wave as you walked the other way.<<elseif $soniaClose <= 49 and $soniaClose >= 40>>You bid $mentorThem goodbye with a detached and clipped farewell.<<else>>You hardly even bid $mentorThem goodbye, only a muted 'bye' upon Uncle Callen's insistence.<</if>><</if>><</if>> You end up in an area extremely close to the floor of the arena, hard-packed dirt that's been dented from events past. You are below even the premier seating that overhangs the rest of the stands, where banners for many of Telfrin's great houses have already been set up. There's the flaming bull of House Tiero, the silver scales of House Undruf, and so many more that you can hardly recall, though it seems much of the nobility is yet to arrive. Looking over the polished wooden railing provides you with a few of the very perimeter of the floor, panelled with dark wood. It's an odd detail, but craning your neck further reveals a recessed area beneath this very stand. It must be where the participants go in-between bouts, for support and provisions. There are several large iron gates dotted around the edge, too. You can only imagine how many people could come riding through those for the massive group melees, and the //ship battles// you've heard about in arenas like this. How would that work?! <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen pulls you back by your collar before you lean any further forward, chuckling at how you startle.<<else>>Aunt Sonia pulls you back by your collar before you lean any further forward. "I don't need you breaking your neck before the fighting even starts, kid."<</if>> You sigh and plant yourself in your seat, much too big for you, and look around absentmindedly. "It's so empty..." "We should start seeing the rest of the crowds fill in soon," Archer muses, leaning lopsidedly in their own seat, fingers framing their chin. "They like to stagger these things so that the nobles have a peaceful entrance, difficult as their lives are." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia stifles a laugh. "Keep it down, Arch! Someone'll overhear and have us thrown out there to fight a lion or something." They shrug, drumming their ringed fingers on the arm of their chair, each ring flickering with light upon each tap. "I reckon I could kill a lion."<<else>>"Archie, ain't hardly the place for commentary, eh?" Uncle Callen chastises. In response, Archer points up to a nearby noble's lounge, upon which a purple-and-green standard hangs, depicting an owl clutching a scroll and sword in each of its clawed feet. "I might ask some of our neighbours if they agree, hm?" He sighs in response, rubbing his sore head. "Ye're my biggest headache, and that's sayin' a lot..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene132b]]

After a short while of waiting <<if $patient > 50>>(during which you declare your boredom a half-dozen times)<<else>>, which you fill by watching people move around the grounds and stands above,<</if>> the crowds fill the stands proper. There must be at least 30,000 here. You're not sure if you even know 30 people! The place is abuzz with conversation, shouting and pure //sound//. All of a sudden, a voice speaks up, coming from everywhere all at once. Archer directs your attention to a ring of metal that seems to span the entire arena, thick and visibly buzzing. //A noise-maker//, they mouth. "''Welcome, all, to the Helaic Colosseum, for the Grand Exhibition of this most wondrous Festival of Light. Each and every one of you honour Sola with your presence today. May He shine upon you.''" With that, the blaring, grainy speech stops for a moment, just as the sound of trumpets replaces it. "''Many Lords, Ladies and otherwise faithfuls have joined us in tribute to the Sun God today,''" as the voice says this, those trumpets sound again, each one at a different stand as the voice announces their presence. //Now// there are people there, standing and waving as parts of the crowd make known their fealty, or their distaste. Many of these nobles, from families you've perhaps heard once in some old history book, certainly look the part for a Festival of Light, dressed in glittering gowns and robes, white and gold and perhaps adorned with a touch of their house's colours. The exception to this trend seems to be stood in one of the stands nearest to you, the one Archer pointed to with the owl banner. It's then that the announcer, well, announces their presence. "''And a very special welcome to House del Varro, represented by the good Lord Galen of Owl's Hollow, Royal warmaster, and his two youngest sons: Aldo and Lucas! In these uncertain times, it warms our hearts to know patrons of other Gods seek worship of all the Twelve. Be welcome, patrons of Zofin.''" Those trumpets blare out from that stand now, drawing the crowd's enraptured attention to the three that stand beneath the green owl. A man, glittering sabre stowed at his hip, gives a pensive wave to those around him, though a smile barely graces his olive-skinned face. He's dressed unlike anybody else, wearing a doublet so dark purple you mistake it for black at first, while the only golden detail on him is a brooch, pinned to the left breast of his doublet. It seems utterly out of place on this austere man. [[Next|Chap2Scene133f]]

Your attention turns next to the boys that have appeared at his side, dressed darkly but not quite as sombre as this Lord Galen, one in purple and one in green--the colours of their house, you realise. Each of them has his dark hair and dusky-olive skin, though it's impossible to tell anything else about their appearance from here, such as the colour of their eyes. One boy stands somewhat taller than the other, waving happily to whomever he can. The other boy, however, simply scans the crowds slowly, stood straighter than you've ever seen any child stand. He must be the younger son, Lucas. You're too far to make out any proper facial expression from him, but can tell when his gaze turns downards. To you. For a moment, you're locked in a sort of staring contest with this lordling. House del Varro ... that's from the far west, isn't it? It //is// a Telfrini house, but Telfrin is a big country. Perhaps the custom in his homeland is different. That might explain why he won't stop staring at you. His father seems to take notice of where he's looking and, after a moment of stillness during which he glances at you, stoops to whisper something in his son's ear before turning away again. Was he talking about ... you? [[Custom or not, you don't like him staring. Give him your meanest scowl possible. Who cares if he's the son of some great Lord? (Volatile ++)|Chap2Scene131j][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $ch2Lucas to "scowl"]] [[Custom or not, you don't like him staring. Make a rude gesture. (Volatile ++, Cautious -)|Chap2Scene131k][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $cautious to $cautious - 1, $ch2Lucas to "rude"]] [[Look away first. It's unnerving. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene131l][$cautious to $cautious + 1, $ch2Lucas to "lookaway"]] [[Look away first. What does it matter? (Cold +)|Chap2Scene131m][$cold to $cold + 1, $ch2Lucas to "lookaway"]] [[He doesn't seem mean. Give him a wave! (Cold -)|Chap2Scene131n][$volatile to $volatile + 2, $ch2Lucas to "wave"]] [[Perhaps you can make this solemn-looking boy laugh. Make a silly face. (Sarcastic+, Cold -)|Chap2Scene131o][$cold to $cold - 1, $sarcastic to $sarcastic + 1, $ch2Lucas to "scowl"]] [[Hold his gaze. He seems interesting, and he's obviously interested in you. (Cautious -)|Chap2Scene131p][$cautious to $cautious - 1, $ch2Lucas to "stare"]] [[Hold his gaze, silently challenging him to look away first. (Cautious -, Stubborn ++ )|Chap2Scene131q][$cautious to $cautious - 1, $stubborn to $stubborn + 2, $ch2Lucas to "stare"]] [[There's just no other option. Stick your tongue out at him. (Sarcastic +, Cautious -)|Chap2Scene131r][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 1, $cautious to $cautious - 1, $ch2Lucas to "tongue"]]

It's a small satisfaction that you can spot the slight movement of his head, a backwards jolt that belies offence at the ferocity in your scowl. You're not entirely sure if he was even able to see from there, but if not then something in your stance must have disturbed him, because a few moments later his head whips away from you, looking elsewhere. "It might be wise to keep your head forward if you cannot bear looking at people, $firstname," Archer tuts, glancing from you up to the booth above. You protest, "But he was staring--" "And you weren't?" They tilt their head, blinking. A little frustrated growl forms in your throat, and you scoff. "//Fine//, I was." They just laugh in response, letting the whole thing go. "Of all the people to make a nasty face at..." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia, who'd been watching this exchange silently, finally speaks up. "The kid didn't know, Arch. But, yeah," she pats your shoulder, "I wouldn't go making an enemy of a del Varro this early, $firstname. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering you about in a decade or two. You'd be best served by making a good impression, or none at all." She sighs. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<<else>>Uncle Callen, who'd been watching this exchange silently, finally speaks up. "Ah, leave the $callenChild be, Archie. 'Sides that, I don't reckon any of those boys'll end up a Weaver. The del Varros might be old blood in the Order, but they ain't had a member in near eighty years. The one y'were starin' at is Lucas, the thirdborn. If any one of that Lord's sons ends up a Weaver, my bet'd be on him. That, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

You try to do it as sneakily as possible, raising your middle finger in a gesture you've seen Aunt Sonia do dozens of times, though she always tried to hide it before you. It doesn't work, because <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she notices almost immediately and snatches at your hand, covering the obscene gesture apparently before the boy can notice it. You look at her, startled, before turning to look back at him. He's already looking elsewhere, with his father glancing at you and whispering in his ear. "Let's not show our middle fingers to nobility, yeah, kid? You like having all ten of them, don't you?" She asks, folding the offending finger back down for you. You're not sure why it's such a horrible thing to do, but it //must// get results, if even Aunt Sonia doesn't want you doing it.<<else>>Uncle Callen notices almost immediately, hissing, "Stop that //now//, $callenChild!" You're startled by the harshness in his tone and hide your hands, glancing at him, chastised. When you look back at the staring boy, he's already turned his attention elsewhere.<</if>> You slump in your plush chair, disappointed that he likely didn't see. It'd serve him right for staring... Archer laughs, having seen the whole thing. "Of all the people to do //that// to..." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia glares at them. "I notice you didn't do a thing to stop $them, Archer." They shrug. "I am a supporter of children making their own mistakes," they pause, grinning, "especially if I find the mistakes amusing." She rolls her eyes, landing her stare on you. "You just nearly made a properly rude sign at a del Varro, kid. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering you about in a decade or two. You'd be best served by making a good impression, or none at all." She sighs. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<<else>>Uncle Callen sighs raggedly. "Thanks a lot for givin' me a warning, Archie..." "Your attempts at sarcasm will never cease to be adorable, Callen," Archer grins. He sighs again, ignoring the smiling mage for the time being and addressing you. "Ye very nearly made a nasty sign towards one of Telfrin's biggest families, $callenChild. More'n that, they're one of the biggest //Bladeweaver// families. It wouldn't surprise me one bit to see that thirdborn of theirs ye're not fond of, Lucas, join the Order one day. That, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this. "Anyway, my //point//, is let's not go lookin' at any more nobles, aye? For yer own safety..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

A pit of insecurity wells in your gut, and you have no outlet for it other than to look away quickly. Just knowing he was looking at you, may still be looking at you, unnerves you. Taking a tentative look back brings relief, as you find that he's no longer fixated on you. He's already looking elsewhere. "Are you nervous?" Archer asks from nowhere, the concern in their eyes very unfamiliar. They glance up to where you were looking, and then their dark eyes narrow. "Did something happen with one of those boys?" "No," you squirm in your seat, somewhat embarrassed, "I just didn't like him looking at me..." Archer blinks, their mouth turning into a flat line. "Oh." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"D'aww, ye do care, Archie!" Uncle Callen laughs, patting their shoulder roughly enough to make them shake, before speaking to you. "Those lads're noble, so they've no qualms about lookin' down on people, so to speak. Was it the little one that was lookin'?" You nod, and he continues unprompted. "Aye, that's Lucas, thirdborn of his house. The del Varros're a historical Weaver family, $callenChild, so I reckon if any of 'em are gonna be yer peer in a few years' time, it'll be him. That, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"Careful, Archer," Aunt Sonia coos, "you almost felt something, then." She flashes them a grin, and turns to speak to you. "Pay them no mind, kid. Let them stare, I say. Which one was it?" She peers up at the booth, where the sombre figures still look elsewhere. You point out the younger boy, and she hums. "That one's Lucas, I'm fairly sure.The del Varros are old blood, a famous Weaver family. I wouldn't be surprised if that boy ends up your superior in a decade or two," She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

You don't care for the scrutiny of this noble boy. It's not as if you'll see him again. You look pointedly away from him, opting to scan the crowds as the announcer goes on and on and on with listing yet more noble attendants. When you look back, curious to see if he's still looking, you find his attention has turned elsewhere. "Someone you know?" Archer asks lightly. "Just a stupid boy." You snort derisively. They glance up to the booth. "I didn't know you'd met the del Varros before, $firstname. Have you a political streak we weren't aware of?" <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I hope not," Uncle Callen joins in the conversation, revealing he'd been listening, "the Order needs more like you, $callenChild. That boy's from a famous Weavcer family, an' as the thirdborn he's likely to be joinin' the Order, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"Get into politics and I'll disown you, kid." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "Besides, I want to be able to say my kid's better than a del Varro. That boy, the thirdborn, is probably going to end up as one. We'll do everything to make sure he doesn't end up strutting around, giving you orders." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

Your arm sways side-to-side eagerly, and you beam a smile that he probably can't see from where he is. For a moment it seems as if he isn't going to do anything other than just stare at you. Then, he slyly turns his head, apparently checking over his shoulder, and looks back at you. His hand, which had been resting on the railing of his family's booth, lifts and moves side-to-side, just barely. That must be what passes for a wave 'hello' in the del Varro family. With little else to do past that point, the boy apparently loses interest, looking away. "Making friends?" Archer smiles, amused. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Wouldn't be a bad friend to make, $callenChild," Uncle Callen speaks up, "That's Lucas del Varro, thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this. "Much as I don't like to notice it, havin' friends in high places will get ye results in the Order..."<<else>>"There'd be worse friends to make," Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering you about in a decade or two. Might as well be on his good side when that happens." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

You hook your fingers under your eyelids, dragging your cheeks down while rolling your eyes back and grinning fiercely. It might make a younger child--or a more squeamish one--recoil, but once you can see again it's obvious from the way his shoulders jolt that you've made this solemn boy laugh, if only a bit. Success! Before this no-longer-solemn boy can retaliate, as it seems he wishes to, his father places a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from you. "Making friends?" Archer smiles, amused. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Wouldn't be a bad friend to make, $callenChild," Uncle Callen speaks up, "That's Lucas del Varro, thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this. "Much as I don't like to notice it, havin' friends in high places will get ye results in the Order..."<<else>>"There'd be worse friends to make," Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering you about in a decade or two. Might as well be on his good side when that happens." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

You tilt your head a bit, intrigued. The distant boy appears to do the same, and you stay like that, locked in a silent and faraway staring match, surrounded by cheers and jeers. The boy breaks first, though not by choice. His father seems to have noticed what's going on, and turns him away. When he never looks back, you feel a twinge of disappointment. "Someone you know?" Archer asks, playing with a loose bit of fabric on the arm of their seat. "No, he just seemed ... interesting," you reply, giving another look back just in case the faraway boy changes his mind. He does not. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Interestin' is one word, $callenChild," Uncle Callen joins in, "that one's Lucas, thirdbornof House del Varro. A weaver family through an' through, so that one's more likely'n either of his brothers to end up a Weaver. That, or guardin' somebody's court far-off somewhere as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this.<<else>>"At their noses, if you can't stand eye contact." Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "And, for your first question, that's a noble boy called Lucas del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering $firstname about in a decade or two." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

You jut your chin out in a silent challenge, smirking. The distant boy probably can't see your expression, but keeps eye contact anyway. You stay like that for a long while, in a silent and faraway staring match, surrounded by cheers and jeers. The boy breaks first, though not by choice. His father seems to have noticed what's going on, and turns him away. He does not look back, and you pump your fist at having 'won', though it could've been earned a bit more fairly. "Congratulations to the first victor of the day named $lastname," Archer gives a little clap. "A friend of yours, I presume?" "No?" You half-answer, half-question, amused by the conclusion they've come to. "I just wanted to beat him." "Oh. Very well, then." They seem to at least half-understand your reasoning. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Wouldn't be a bad friend to make in all honesty, $callenChild," Uncle Callen speaks up, "That's Lucas del Varro, thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this. "Much as I don't like to notice it, havin' friends in high places will get ye results in the Order..."<<else>>"Well, there'd be worse friends to make," Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering you about in a decade or two. Might as well be on his good side when that happens." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

It's perhaps a bit brazen, but today is a day for fun, right? You may as well do //something// while waiting for the exhibition to actually start, and you're sure this boy won't care about a bit of silliness--highborn or not. Your concerns are assuaged when, upon realizing what you're doing, the boy's shoulders jolt as one's do when they chuckle unexpectedly. Your fun doesn't last, though, as when he looks about to copy you his father seems to notice what's going on, quickly glancing at you and placing a hand on his youngest son's shoulder. The boy is turned away, and doesn't look back. "Making friends?" Archer smiles, amused. "Maybe," you reply cheekily. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"Wouldn't be a bad friend to make, $callenChild," Uncle Callen speaks up, "That's Lucas del Varro, thirdborn of his house. They've historically been warriors, so I expect that one'll end up a Bladeweaver one day, or guardin' somebody's court far away as a favour, as the youngest son often does." He sounds surprisingly bitter upon saying this. "Much as I don't like to notice it, havin' friends in high places will get ye results in the Order..."<<else>>"There'd be worse friends to make," Aunt Sonia joins in the conversation, revealing she'd been listening. "That's a noble boy, Lucas of House del Varro. Fairly famous Weaver family, that one, so don't be surprised if one of those boys ends up strutting around, ordering you about in a decade or two. Might as well be on his good side when that happens." She grumbles. "Nobility seems to get a fast-track to Masterhood, these days..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene134b]]

Once all that tedious announcing is done with, the actual events start. You bear witness to all the staples of a great event: a joust (the winner of which is a rather plain-looking knight named Ser Grenwyc L'abaur, whom very few in the crowd appear particularly enthused about winning), a group melee, even a //horse race//, that kicks a massive amount of dust into the air. There are archery contests, wrestling, a foot race and even feats of gymnastics, with performers doing impossible amounts of spins in the air. Sam watches this with particularly rapt attention, otherwise seeming quite bored by all the combative events. [[You cheer and whoop during the combat events. It's amazing to see all these elite warriors in their prime, doing what they do best.|Chap2Scene135c]] <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>[[You'd be excited, but you instead sit in ancitipation of what's to come. The exhibitionary duel.|Chap2Scene135d]]<<else>>[[You enjoy these sorts of things, but you're here for the real event. The exhibitionary duel.|Chap2Scene135e]]<</if>> <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>[[You aren't a fan of watching these sorts of things, which only serves to further disturb you as you sit in ancitipation of what's to come. The exhibitionary duel.|Chap2Scene135f]]<<else>>[[You aren't a fan of watching these sorts of things, and find yourself a little bit bored.|Chap2Scene135g]]<</if>>

You've been to a few events like this in the past, albeit smaller. Sola has plenty of smaller event grounds that can serve as tourney arenas in a pinch, and Aunt Sonia delights in visiting them--and occasionally participating under an alias. She won the last one you attended, perhaps a year and a half ago, under the name of 'Helia of Bumworth', a moniker that drew chuckles from the crowds. So, to be watching all of //this//, in its overwhelming splendour, is a real treat. You grin and grip the wooden railings tight when your favoured contestant, or contestants, seem close to victory, and bemoan their losses when they happen. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia is appropriately vocal as well, yelling her disdain for certain participants and whooping when somebody she likes appears--it's embarrassingly evident that she's really only cheering for the women competing.<<else>>Uncle Callen doesn't seem to have much taste for tourneys and the like, but he still smiles at your enthusiasm, and claps politely whenever somebody wins.<</if>> Your experience is only heightened when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, marvelling at how the cup seems to have stayed chilled, and spy a few faint runes on the platter. They must keep everything appropriately cold for this hot day. [[Next|Chap2Scene136d]]

You've been to a few events like this in the past, albeit smaller. Sola has plenty of smaller event grounds that can serve as tourney arenas in a pinch, and Aunt Sonia delights in visiting them--and occasionally participating under an alias. She won the last one you attended, perhaps a year and a half ago, under the name of 'Helia of Bumworth', a moniker that drew chuckles from the crowds. But this is different. While the events here are like none you've seen before, with sections of the arena's floor shifting and clunking around to accommodate the differing sizes of each event, and each competitor adorned with the fanciest-looking armour you've ever seen, there's something //off//. If today goes badly it might taint your view of tourneys and arenas for a long time. You're nervous for <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen, despite knowing his prowess as a fighter. You've seen him fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<<else>>Aunt Sonia, despite knowing her prowess as a fighter. You've seen her fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<</if>> //They were just sparring matches. The real thing could go wrong, it could--// You find solace when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, marvelling at how the cup seems to have stayed chilled, and spy a few faint runes on the platter. They must keep everything appropriately cold for this hot day. [[Next|Chap2Scene136d]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Hearing Aunt Sonia mention wanting to 'cut loose' had you curious about just how good a fighter she is in a //real// fight. You have, of course, seen countless sparring matches between both of your mentors, but have rarely seen them duel others, and then only ever with training blades.<<else>>Uncle Callen is big, strong, and fast, deceptively so. Others have described him as a demon--the good kind, apparently--on the battlefield, whirling and dashing to-and-fro. You've been forever curious about just how good a fighter he is in a //real// fight. Naturally, you've seen countless sparring matches between both of your mentors, but have rarely seen them duel others, and then only ever with training blades.<</if>> You're full of anticipation for what's to come: the chance to see <<if $mentor == "Callen">>him at his best<<else>>her at her best<</if>>. Your experience is only heightened when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, marvelling at how the cup seems to have stayed chilled, and spy a few faint runes on the platter. They must keep everything appropriately cold for this hot day. [[Next|Chap2Scene136d]]

You've never particularly enjoyed the other exhibitions and tourneys you've attended. Perhaps you're just not a very //martially-aligned// young $child, as Aunt Sonia likes to lament, or perhaps you're just bored by tourneys and the like. Maybe one day you'll get to compete in one, and have your mind changed. If today goes badly, though, you doubt you'll ever want to set foot in an arena again. You're nervous for <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen, despite knowing his prowess as a fighter. You've seen him fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<<else>>Aunt Sonia, despite knowing her prowess as a fighter. You've seen her fight hundreds of times, but it does nothing to stop that doubtful little voice in your mind.<</if>> //They were just sparring matches. The real thing could go wrong, it could--// You find solace, and distraction, when food and drinks are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, marvelling at how the cup seems to have stayed chilled, and spy a few faint runes on the platter. They must keep everything appropriately cold for this hot day. [[Next|Chap2Scene136d]]

The few events you've seen haven't been anything special, in your eyes. Perhaps you're just not a very //martially-aligned// young $child, as Aunt Sonia likes to lament, or perhaps you're just bored by tourneys and the like. Maybe one day you'll get to compete in one, and have your mind changed. As it is, you watch the proceedings with your chin in your hands, finding some solace in the food and drinks that are eventually wheeled in by servants. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen happily munches on something that looks fried and very spicy, judging by the flush on his cheeks, while Archer takes long, languid sips from a goblet of something pink and sweet-smelling.<<else>>Aunt Sonia and Archer take a veritable armful of different drinks, taking tentative sips and trading cups. They strongly deny your requests to try some.<</if>> You pick out something that appeals to you, marvelling at how the cup seems to have stayed chilled, and spy a few faint runes on the platter. They must keep everything appropriately cold for this hot day. [[Next|Chap2Scene136d]]

When the last event is over, the crowd quiets after what feels like minutes of cheering and clapping. There is a sudden rustling of heavy cloth, and shadows dance over your faces. You snap your head upwards and stare, bewildered, at what's happening at the very top of the colosseum. Spreading inwards from the perimeter is a huge covering of thick, dark cloth. All-too-quickly you are blanketed in near-total darkness, with only the odd shaft of brilliant sunlight coming through tiny gaps in the impromptu ceiling. However, there is one //big// gap, right in the centre. It illuminates the arena's centre, with two somewhat-hidden trapdoors built into the ground. You feel the powerful vibration of the noise-maker around the inner edge of the arena before you hear the sound it makes, a deep rattle that reverberates through the floor and your chair, sending you slightly numb. ''For your thrill and excitement, please now bear witness to this most special of proceedings: a three-stage duel between an esteemed Master Bladeweaver, and a mystery opponent, who seeks to disparage the good name of Sola on this holy day.'' Cheers and boos sound out respectively for $mentorTermChild and this mystery opponent--who remains obscure even now, moments before the duel may happen. ''Now, please welcome Sola's champion on this blessed day: Master<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen Edros, the Argent Wolf,<<else>>Sonia Wierszy, the Hawk of Hangrot,<</if>> of the Bladeweavers' Order!'' The arena erupts into cheers. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🐺+ And so do you.|Chap2Scene137b][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🦅+ And so do you.|Chap2Scene137b][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You do not.|Chap2Scene137c]]

You cup your hands around your mouth and whoop $mentorTermChild's name, ringing loud and clear above everybody else. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Your Uncle Callen, armour-clad, with his mantle fluttering behind him like some great hero, rises from the now-open trapdoor, his back to you. His poleaxe is held steadfast in his right hand, like a battle standard. Somehow, he must hear you--or more likely, know where you are--because he turns his head and seems to look directly at you. You can almost see the grin he has on under that helmet at seeing you so excited. And then he turns back, almost unmoving.<<else>>Your Aunt Sonia, armour-clad, with her mantle fluttering behind her like some great heroine, rises from the now-open trapdoor, her back to you. Her sword is stowed safely in her scabbard, held in her left hand. She turns a few times, taking in the crowd's collective support before raising her scabbard in the air. She slowly, almost languidly, moves her other hand to grip the sword's hilt, before quickly ripping it from the sheath. The silver-green of the blade gleams in the concentrated sunlight, like a beacon in the dark. Somehow, she must hear you--or more likely, know where you are--because once she's clipped her scabbard to her hip, she somehow points the tip of the blade directly at you. It's not difficult to imagine her saying something ridiculous beneath that helmet, like 'this one's for you, $firstname,' and you giggle a bit despite yourself. All too soon, she turns back to face the other trapdoor, sword slung over her shoulder like a great weight.<</if>> Still the crowd //roars//, a sound that reverberates through the arena more than those big metal noise-makers had. Distant drums and horns play a militaristic, triumphant tune. 'The Weaver's March', it is unofficially known as, and it accompanies the Order's representatives at any event they attend. Looking around at the deep-shadowed crowd, shifting in support and admiration for just one Bladeweaver... [[It fills you with awe. If this is what being a Bladeweaver is, you want it.|Chap2Scene138b]] [[You feel put-off. Is this really what being a Bladeweaver is?|Chap2Scene138c]] [[Strangely, you feel disgusted. This can't be what being a Bladeweaver is.|Chap2Scene138d]]

<<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>You simply can't cheer this on, with how afraid you are of what will happen.<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">><<if $callenClose > 50>> You'll cheer when the fighting's done and he's won, of course.<<else>>You don't //want// to cheer him on, even now.<</if>><<else>><<if $soniaClose > 50>>You'll cheer when the fighting's done and she's won, of course.<<else>>You don't //want// to cheer her on, even now.<</if>><</if>><</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Your Uncle Callen, armour-clad, with his mantle fluttering behind him like some great hero, rises from the now-open trapdoor, his back to you. His poleaxe is held steadfast in his right hand, like a battle standard. Somehow, he must know where you are, because he turns his head and seems to look directly at you. You can almost see the grin he has on under that helmet at seeing you so excited. And then he turns back, almost unmoving.<<else>>Your Aunt Sonia, armour-clad, with her mantle fluttering behind her like some great heroine, rises from the now-open trapdoor, her back to you. Her sword is stowed safely in her scabbard, held in her left hand. She turns a few times, taking in the crowd's collective support before raising her scabbard in the air. She slowly, almost languidly, moves her other hand to grip the sword's hilt, before quickly ripping it from the sheath. The silver-green of the blade gleams in the concentrated sunlight, like a beacon in the dark. Somehow, she must know where you are--because once she's clipped her scabbard to her hip, she points the tip of the blade directly at you. It's not difficult to imagine her saying something ridiculous beneath that helmet, like 'this one's for you, $firstname,' and you giggle a bit despite yourself. All too soon, she turns back to face the other trapdoor, sword slung over her shoulder like a great weight.<</if>> Still the crowd //roars//, a sound that reverberates through the arena more than those big metal noise-makers had. Distant drums and horns play a militaristic, triumphant tune. 'The Weaver's March', it is unofficially known as, and it accompanies the Order's representatives at any event they attend. Looking around at the deep-shadowed crowd, shifting in support and admiration for just one Bladeweaver... [[It fills you with awe. If this is what being a Bladeweaver is, you want it.|Chap2Scene138b]] [[You feel put-off. Is this really what being a Bladeweaver is?|Chap2Scene138c]] [[Strangely, you feel disgusted. This can't be what being a Bladeweaver is.|Chap2Scene138d]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with a yearning you've scarcely felt. You want this. The love, the thrill that comes with the role. You want everything that comes with being a Bladeweaver, and you will do your best to seek it.<<else>>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with a yearning you've scarcely felt. You ... want this. The love, the thrill that comes with the role. Despite your misgivings, you want everything that comes with being a Bladeweaver, and you will do your best to seek it.<</if>> "And so it begins..." Archer mutters, deathly-quiet against the clamour around you. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Any hints as to who it'll be, Archie?" Uncle Callen leans forward. They cross their arms, unimpressed. "As I have said before, I know nothing. We will find out soon, regardless..."<<else>>"You've got to know something about who he's fighting, Arch. //Do I need to worry//?" She leans in, attempting to whisper but falling short--she must have had one too many of those sweet-looking drinks to realise how loud she's being. They cross their arms, perturbed. "Your faith in my work gladdens me, Sonia dearest. As I have said before, I know nothing. We will find out soon, regardless..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene139b][$bwOpinion to "like"]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty. You want to be a Bladeweaver, you really do, but perhaps not like this. You want to do good, to help people, but this pomp and pageantry feels at odds with what you know the Order to be. Surely there are better things that $mentorTermChild could be doing than a duel for an audience?<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the dread you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You do not want to be a Bladeweaver. This only compounds your growing dread for one day being one. Surely there are better things that $mentorTermChild could be doing than a duel for an audience?<<else>>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the unease you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You have no idea if you want to be a Bladeweaver. This only compounds your growing uncertainty of one day being one. Surely there are better things that $mentorTermChild could be doing than a duel for an audience?<</if>> "And so it begins..." Archer mutters, deathly-quiet against the clamour around you. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Any hints as to who it'll be, Archie?" Uncle Callen leans forward. They cross their arms, unimpressed. "As I have said before, I know nothing. We will find out soon, regardless..."<<else>>"You've got to know something about who he's fighting, Arch. //Do I need to worry//?" She leans in, attempting to whisper but falling short--she must have had one too many of those sweet-looking drinks to realise how loud she's being. They cross their arms, perturbed. "Your faith in my work gladdens me, Sonia dearest. As I have said before, I know nothing. We will find out soon, regardless..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene139b][$bwOpinion to "like"]]

<<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with a strange disdain. You want to be a Bladeweaver, you really do, but not like this. You want to do good, to help people, but this pomp and pageantry feels disgusting, a betrayal of what you know the Order to be. Your mentors have worked and bled and fought to protect people, but they are made to wave for crowds and fight useless duels.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "no">>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the dread you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You do not want to be a Bladeweaver. All this pomp and pageantry has turned your dislike into disgust. Your mentors have worked and bled and fought to protect people, but they are made to wave for crowds and fight useless duels.<<else>>Seeing this adoration, this pure //joy// at the sight of just one Bladeweaver ready for battle, fills you with an odd uncertainty, atop all the unease you already feel around the prospect of joining the Order. You have no idea if you want to be a Bladeweaver. All this pomp and pageantry has turned your unease into disgust. Your mentors have worked and bled and fought to protect people, but they are made to wave for crowds and fight useless duels.<</if>> "And so it begins..." Archer mutters, deathly-quiet against the clamour around you. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Any hints as to who it'll be, Archie?" Uncle Callen leans forward. They cross their arms, unimpressed. "As I have said before, I know nothing. We will find out soon, regardless..."<<else>>"You've got to know something about who he's fighting, Arch. //Do I need to worry//?" She leans in, attempting to whisper but falling short--she must have had one too many of those sweet-looking drinks to realise how loud she's being. They cross their arms, perturbed. "Your faith in my work gladdens me, Sonia dearest. As I have said before, I know nothing. We will find out soon, regardless..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene139b][$bwOpinion to "like"]]

''Now, all in attendance, bear witness to the second contestant in this duel for light. A leal hound of the Church of Death, servant to She-in-Shadow, Moro. The Corpus Aurus of house Baalor: Ser Malack Baalor.'' The bombastic tune of the Weaver's March stops abruptly. The crowd goes ... //quiet//. If this is who they were expecting to fight, it certainly doesn't seem that way. The other trapdoor opens, and a dark figure rises from it. A morose, sad tune begins to play from below, dozens and dozens of string instruments in perfect alignment. It's like a funeral march, one of a few processions for someone important you've spied moving through the street from your window. It makes you feel empty and satisfied all at once, like the feeling of grief put into song. Your eyes, however, are locked on this Ser Malack. It's a difficult task, dressed as he is. In contrast to $mentorTermChild's gleaming, flowing plate, his armour is formed of jagged ribbed plates, enamelled black and so dark that his garb almost absorbs the light around him. He looks like a blowing torrent of black smoke, steadfast in the brilliance of the sunlight above. Affixed to his gauntlets, greaves, breastplate and helm, currently held at his side, are... You mutter your realization quietly. "Bones?" //Golden// bones, at that? <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"It's an old legend," Aunt Sonia whispers to you, "of the Baalor family. The greatest Baalor was a giant of a man, standing three heads above even the tallest. He'd make your Uncle Callen look like you. He served the Death Church fearlessly, fighting in every battle he could find, all in service of Moro, such was his fanaticism." She stares at the shadow-clad warrior with revulsion. "When he finally fell, laughing and screaming as they say, the bits of him that were left ended up coated in gold and put around that very armour. His descendants, if proven worthy, get to wear it."<<else>>"It's an old legend," Uncle Callen whispers to you, "of the Baalor family. The greatest Baalor was a right giant of a man, standin' three heads above even the tallest warriors. He would'a made me look a silly little fool. He served the Death Church fearlessly, fightin whatever fights he could, all in service of Moro, such was his urge to kill." He stares at the shadow-clad warrior with an unbecoming disgust. "When the bugger finally fell, laughin' and screamin', as the songs tell, his bones ended up coated in gold and forged into that very armour. His rotten ancestors compete for the honour of wearin' the damned thing."<</if>> "Or so they say." Archer laughs in assurance. "It is more likely that the bones are sculpted. A replication to fit a grim story." Even still, it makes for a grim sight. Pieces of golden jawbone line the armour's bevor, a piece of plate that protects the face, extending up from the chestplate. Chunks of skull are dotted around the helm, sockets lining the eyeholes in a display of morbid precision. The breastplate looks as if it was moulded underneath a bloated ribcage, shiny and gilt. The air is charged with nervous anticipation--yours included. [[Next|Chap2Scene140b]]

You want to hurt him the way he's hurt you, ugly and uncomfortable as the thought is, to have him beg for a mercy he chose not to extend to $mentorTermChild. There is justice in that, isn't there? <span id = "invader-text">Is there?</span> You shiver. You shouldn't be thinking these things... It's then that you spot Uncle Callen running, with Archer at his side, to where Aunt Sonia lays on the dirt, still shifting around uncomfortably. She is surrounded by all sorts of people, oddly-dressed mages, healers, and the odd Bladeweaver. Ser Malack is already being escorted away, and he is pushed quite roughly back by the guards when he attempts to walk over to Uncle Callen, who crouches at his companion's side. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>[[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a2]]<<else>>[[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a]]<</if>>

Your jaw quakes uncontrollably, but no tears fall from your eyes. All you can seem to do is stare at what's going on below. The crowd is a muffled roar in your ears, drowned out by your rapid heartbeat. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>[[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a2]]<<else>>[[It's then that you notice something else in the dust cloud, kicked up by this chaos.|Chap2Scene154a]]<</if>>

Time passes slowly, and you find yourself bored. There's not much to see in the tent, save for some pretty designs on the carpeted floor and the interior side of the tent itself. You decide to take a peek outside--not stepping out, mindful of somehow alerting the witch to your exit, but enough that you can see through the fluttering entrance. You watch the fairgoers walk by for a while, spying all sorts of different outfits and people. There's a pale-faced lady with hair half as tall as the rest of her, glittering with little bejewelled bees and a portly man in distinctly Vengardian attire, made up of far too many furs for this sun. There are, surprisingly, plenty of Abrian attendees, with their geometric outfits coloured in a patriotic manner--quite a bold choice in a Risen City deep within Telfrini territory. They must all be here for something other than the Festival of Light, as Abrians follow a different pantheon to that of Sola and the rest. A celebration of Sola isn't something that would exactly draw thousands from a different nation altogether. You eventually get bored of even this, and pull your head back through the curtains with a sigh. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTeller7a]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia returns through the curtains after a few minutes, looking perturbed.<<else>>Uncle Callen returns through the curtains after a few minutes, looking perturbed.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller8a1][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller8a1][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You don't bother asking, you're sure you'll find out somehow.|Chap2FortuneTeller8a2]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia returns through the curtains after a few minutes, looking perturbed.<<else>>Uncle Callen returns through the curtains after a few minutes, looking perturbed.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What happened?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller8c1][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller8c1][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You don't bother asking, you're sure you'll find out somehow.|Chap2FortuneTeller8c2]]

You end up having to shuffle past a few people--the tent is surprisingly packed--and find <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen talking to a chastised-looking Sam.<<else>>Aunt Sonia clutching the arm of a quite chastised-looking Sam.<</if>> "I didn't know it was //this// full, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Miss Sonia!<<else>>Mister Callen!<</if>>" The boy peeps, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>slightly twisting his arm in her grip. She promptly lets go, and he straightens his sleeve quickly, chewing his lip nervously. Aunt Sonia might look slightly irritated at his antics, but you haven't really seen him this nervous, even for his father's own scolding. The mere hint of Aunt Sonia's has him shaken...<<else>>chewing his lip nervously. Uncle Callen doesn't even look angry, but that doesn't seem to ease Sam's nerves. How strange--he doesn't seem to mind his father's own scolding, but the mere prospect of your Uncle Callen's has him shaken...<</if>> [["What's wrong?" You ask, confused about his reaction.|Chap2MagicTentSam3a]] [[🌞+ "Why would you run off like that?" You ask, also cross with him, but more concerned than anything.|Chap2MagicTentSam3b][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[🌞- "Are you stupid?!" You fume at Sam. What was he thinking?|Chap2MagicTentSam3c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"This one thought it clever to run into a crowded tent," Aunt Sonia sighs, irritated. <<else>>Uncle Callen startles, having forgotten you in the rush to find Sam. "Sorry, $callenChild! I got caught up in findin' this one," he chuckles, pointing at Sam with a thumb.<</if>> "I didn't //mean// to run off, I just got excited. I'm real sorry, to both of you even!" Sam's voice rises with each word, getting more and more piping until it almost hurts your ears. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen sighs, but you can tell the sincere display--and Sam's capability for making his eyes as big and round as possible--has already won him over. "I know, lad. Just try an' keep yerself close while we're out. Yer father'd have me head if I'd lost ye!" This makes the boy giggle a bit, and Uncle Callen smiles winningly. "Alright then, ye wee buggers, let's 'ave a proper look around now."<<else>>"You can be excited, kid, but that stops where my stress begins. I never saw myself having to look for lost children and not getting paid for it, so don't make me start now, alright?" Sam nods quickly, promising to keep close from now on. "Very good," Aunt Sonia uncrosses her arms, gesturing for everybody to keep going, "let's see what all the fuss about this place is for."<</if>> As you start to take a proper look around, Sam peers at you silently. [[🌞+ "Please don't run off again," you ask. "It was scary..." (Cautious +)|Chap2MagicTentSam3a1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $cautious to $cautious + 1]] [[🌞+ "Come on," you smack his arm lightly, ignoring the incident, "let's go!" (Cautious -)|Chap2MagicTentSam3a2][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $cautious to $cautious - 1]] <<if $samRomance > 0>>[[🔥Look away quickly.|Chap2MagicTentSam3a3]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose this option.//<</if>> [[Just keep walking.|Chap2MagicTentSam3a4]]

The boy tries to give you a mollifying smile, despite his own state. "I didn't //mean// to, I just got excited. I'm real sorry, to both of you even!" His voice rises with each word, getting more and more piping until it almost hurts your ears. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Uncle Callen sighs, but you can tell the sincere display--and Sam's capability for making his eyes as big and round as possible--has already won him over. "I know, lad. Just try an' keep yerself close while we're out. Yer father'd have me head if I'd lost ye!" This makes the boy giggle a bit, and Uncle Callen smiles winningly. "Alright then, ye little hellions, let's 'ave a proper look around now."<<else>>"You can be excited, kid, but that stops where my stress begins. I never saw myself having to look for lost children and not getting paid for it, so don't make me start now, alright?" Sam nods quickly, promising to keep close from now on. "Very good," Aunt Sonia uncrosses her arms, gesturing for everybody to keep going, "let's see what all the fuss about this place is for."<</if>> As you start to take a proper look around, Sam gives you a quick, apologetic smile. [[🌞+ Smile back and bump shoulders with him. There's no use staying mad, now that the problem's sorted.|Chap2MagicTentSam3b1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["It's okay," you reassure him. "I was just worried for a second..."|Chap2MagicTentSam3b2]] [[Look away. You're still slightly miffed.|Chap2MagicTentSam3b3]]

"I didn't think--" The boy stammers, but you interrupt him. "You //never// think!" Sam, stunned into silence, just stares at you with big, round eyes. He almost looks //angry// at you. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"That's enough now, $callenChild, he knows he wasn't to 'ave done that." Uncle Callen sighs.<<else>>"Enough from you, $firstname. I'll handle this." Aunt Sonia stares you down.<</if>> "But--" You begin, but it's worthless to even try to keep going. Sam's got that look on his face, the one that you've seen absolve him of any blame when he's in trouble. "Fine..." "I'm real sorry, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Miss Sonia,<<else>>Mister Callen,<</if>> I didn't mean to just go like that..." Sam apologizes, at least //sounding// sincere, though you have your doubts. <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I know, lad. Just try an' keep yerself close while we're out. Yer father'd have me head if I'd lost ye!" This makes the boy giggle a bit, and Uncle Callen smiles winningly. "Alright then, ye little hellions, let's 'ave a proper look around now."<<else>>"You can be excited, kid, but that stops where my stress begins. I never saw myself having to look for lost children and not getting paid for it, so don't make me start now, alright?" Sam nods quickly, promising to keep close from now on. "Very good," Aunt Sonia uncrosses her arms, gesturing for everybody to keep going, "let's see what all the fuss about this place is for."<</if>> As you start to take a proper look around, Sam mutters, "Don't call me stupid..." while giving you a wary look. [[🌞+ Whisper back, "I'm sorry, I just thought you'd gotten yourself lost..."|Chap2MagicTentSam3c1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["It's alright, I just got worried," you admit.|Chap2MagicTentSam3c2]] [[🌞- Ignore him. You don't much care what he does or doesn't want you to call him.|Chap2MagicTentSam3c3][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]

Sam's smiles sheepishly. "Yeah, that happens sometimes. I'm loud, though, so you would'a found me eventually!" He gives you a lopsided grin, weighing the imaginary scenario with his hands. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

"Well, I'm sorry, $samNick," Sam gives you a muted smile. "I'll try not to do it again!" [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

You feel his eyes on the back of your head for a while, but Sam doesn't say anything else. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

There are wonders abound here: massive moving constructs of metal and wood, held together by wispy strands of yellowish light from within like a network of luminescent veins, a magically-powered engine, clunking and chattering in the open for all to marvel at its complex insides, there is even a group of mages throwing a ball of hard light to one another, occasionally letting someone in the audience catch the thing and gawk at how it's actually //tangible//. Archer would hate the novelty-focused aspect of the whole thing, but you know someone who certainly does not. "Oh my //Gods//!" Sam cackles in delight, turning round and round with wide eyes, very nearly bumping into more than one person. You eventually come to a wide, dark table, covered in all sorts of little trinkets. Sat in a levitating chair is a mage, dressed richly in a layered robe cut with little gold accents. Their eyes are hidden behind round brass-rimmed spectacles with dark ruby lenses. Gold thread has been woven into the strands of their hair that aren't pinned into an elegant bun. "Honoured guests," their voice is high and teasing, carrying with it a high-and-mightiness you've simply begun to associate with all mages, "Welcome to the Empyrium--that is, our Empyrean Emporium..." They flash you a toothy grin, and you blink upon noticing that most of their teeth have been replaced with carefully-carved gemstone analogues. It's as if there's a rainbow in their mouth. Mages certainly have //a// taste in fashion. You're not sure if it's a good one, but it's there. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam5]]

<<if $samRomance > 1>>You think you spot a little reddening in Sam's cheeks, but the boy is quick to respond with a gentle shove of his own.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>Butterflies flutter around in your stomach for a second at the contact, but Sam is quick to respond with a shove of his own, turning the moment into a little battle.<<else>>Sam is quick to respond with a nearly-too-rough shove of his own, giggling all the while.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

Sam's back to his usual grinning self immediately. "Good to know!" [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

All you hear is his soft sigh before he's back to his usual self. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

<<if $chap2GoHome isnot "yes" and $chap2GoHome isnot "yesSam" and $chap2GoHome isnot "yesTired">>"Promise I won't," Sam makes that clawing motion you remember from when you visited his home for the first time<<else>>"Promise I won't," Sam makes a clawing motion over his heart, three of his fingers dragging across the pristine--save for a few specks of dirt that are inexplicably there--surface of his shirt.<</if>> //Intelligence...// <<if $intelligence > 1>>//Success.// You recognise it as an Abrian gesture, and respond properly, tapping three of your own fingers against your forehead--the claws over the heart are a sincere promise, and the claws over the head are to show that one will remember the promise made.<<else>>//Failure.// "What does that mean?" You ask, confused as to why he's dragging his fingers over his chest<<if $chap2GoHome isnot "yes" and $chap2GoHome isnot "yesSam" and $chap2GoHome isnot "yesTired">> again.<<else>>.<</if>> "Oh, it's an Abrian promise," Sam explains like you ought to already know it. "Here, you've gotta do this to make sure it sticks," he makes a similar pose with his hand again, and taps it to his forehead. "This shows I've made the promise, and you've shown you'll remember it." "Oh! Alright," you nod, making the gesture yourself and tapping your forehead with it. It feels silly, but it must be a big deal in Abria if even the children do it.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

If Sam was feeling a bit down before, he certainly isn't now. Your encouragement has him almost skipping again, which causes <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia to shoot him a warning glare.<<else>>Uncle Callen to watch warily, though he doesn't go far.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

Sam makes a muted sound of confusion at your reaction. "What's up, $firstname?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia seems to notice something off about you, so she tells Sam to leave you be. "Stop teasing $them."<<else>>"Alright, lad," Uncle Callen chuckles, apparently having noticed your reaction, "stop teasin' the $child."<</if>> Sam sputters, "But I wasn't--" he sighs, "never mind..." [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

Sam sighs, a little disappointed that you didn't notice him, but is otherwise unbothered, looking around the tent as you walk. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam4]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia frowns momentarily. "I wasn't aware businesses were allowed to have 'Empyrean' in their names." The mage does an exaggerated spin in their floating chair, coming to a stop after about three turns. "My good lady, we are certainly no mere //business!// Besides that, the rule extends only to the mainland," they wave a nonchalant hand, covered in a translucent, silky glove, "down below, we go by a wholly different name." "And what would that be?" The mage taps their nose, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Aunt Sonia blinks, unamused. She has little patience for Archer's peculiarities, so this unknown mage must be testing her limits. "I would, but I'll let you keep your secrets, mage. What've you got on display?" "Please, peruse some of these fine wares," the mage waves to the table before them with one of those gloved hands, "plenty of choice for the discerning <<if $agab == "male">>boy and his friend<<else>>girl and her friend<</if>>." <<if $samRelationship < 50>>You frown at the word //friend//, but don't let it bother you much.<<else>>Sam grins at being called your friend.<</if>><<else>>Uncle Callen laughs heartily. "That's a clever name!" The mage smiles wryly, spinning their floating chair left and right slightly, shuffling around to get more comfortable. "It gladdens me that you think so, my good man." They push their spectacles back up their nose with a gloved hand, covered in a translucent silky material. "Would you care to peruse some of these fine wares? Plenty of choice for the discerning <<if $agab == "male">>boy and his friend<<else>>girl and her friend<</if>>." <<if $samRelationship < 50>>You frown at the word //friend//, but don't let it bother you much.<<else>>Sam grins at being called your friend.<</if>><</if>> [[Just as you lean over to take a look, a noise startles you.|Chap2MagicTentSam6]]

A noise to your left, the clattering of some of the--quite delicate-looking, mind you--magical trinkets and what seems to be the pitter-patter of tiny feet. And, to your surprise, Sam's delighted squeal once he sees what's approaching. It's a little creature, sleek and grey with pale green eyes and pointy ears. It locks eyes with you and blinks slowly, making a sound akin to a chirp. [[Oh, it's a cat! You've never seen one in person before, or heard one, so you were a bit confused at first. Greet the thing happily.|Chap2MagicTentSam7a][$chap2Cat to "like"]] [[Oh, it's a cat. You've never seen one in person before, or heard one, so you were a bit confused at first. You're not a fan of the things, based on how they're described, so you'll leave it be.|Chap2MagicTentSam7b][$chap2Cat to "dislike"]] [[You have no idea what this creature is, but it seems friendly. Greet it--with a small amount of caution, of course. (Cautious +)|Chap2MagicTentSam7d][$cautious to $cautious + 1, $chap2Cat to "like"]] [[You have no idea what this creature is, but it seems friendly. Greet it happily! (Cautious -)|Chap2MagicTentSam7e][$cautious to $cautious - 1, $chap2Cat to "like"]] [[You have no idea what this creature is, so you'll keep a respectable distance. (Cautious +)|Chap2MagicTentSam7f][$cautious to $cautious - 1, $chap2Cat to "dislike"]] [[What in the twelve hells is that?! You shuffle back, afraid of whatever this thing is.|Chap2MagicTentSam7c][$chap2Cat to "afraid"]]

You join Sam in saying hello to the cat, in a sort of pincer formation of pets. Sam runs a soft hand over its back, delighting in the way it arches its back while you softly scratch its head, feeling the tickle of whiskers and a slightly damp little nose on your hand as it pushes its head further into your palm. "His name is Iasper, my little treasure," the mage says umprompted, smiling down at the two of you from their high chair. "He's so soft," Sam giggles, shifting to peer into the cat's eyes for a moment. "Oh, he'd better be," the mage snorts. "He eats better than we do, most days!" [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam8]]

"Hey, what's the matter, $samNick?" Sam looks at you, confused, while scratching the cat's head. "I don't really like cats," you admit. "Huh? Have you ever even seen one?" He asks, not believing your dislike of the things. You frown. "Well, no, but I've read about them! I just ... don't want to do anything with it." Sam's brow creases in thought, before relaxing. "Huh. Alright then! More cat for me!" With that, he goes right back to enthusiastically scratching the cat, smiling at it all the while. "His name is Iasper, my little treasure," the mage says umprompted, smiling down at the boy from their high chair. "He's so soft," Sam giggles, shifting to peer into the cat's eyes for a moment. "Oh, he'd better be," the mage snorts. "He eats better than we do, most days!" [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam8]]

You hesitantly join Sam in saying hello to the thing, in a sort of pincer formation of pets. Sam runs a soft hand over its back, delighting in the way it arches its back while you softly scratch its head, feeling the tickle of whiskers and a slightly damp little nose on your hand as it pushes its head further into your palm. The sensation startles you slightly, and you pull your hand back. The thing just chirps, pushing its head even further up. "His name is Iasper, my little treasure," the mage says umprompted, smiling down at the two of you from their high chair. "He's so soft," Sam giggles, shifting to peer into the creature's eyes for a moment. "Oh, he'd better be," the mage snorts. "He eats better than we do, most days!" [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam8]]

You quickly join Sam in saying hello to the thing, in a sort of pincer formation of pets. Sam runs a soft hand over its back, delighting in the way it arches its back while you softly scratch its head, feeling the tickle of whiskers and a slightly damp little nose on your hand as it pushes its head further into your palm. The sensation startles you slightly, and you pull your hand back. The thing just chirps, pushing its head even further up. "His name is Iasper, my little treasure," the mage says umprompted, smiling down at the two of you from their high chair. "He's so soft," Sam giggles, shifting to peer into the creature's eyes for a moment. "Oh, he'd better be," the mage snorts. "He eats better than we do, most days!" [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam8]]

"Hey, what's the matter, $samNick?" Sam looks at you, confused, while scratching the cat's head. "I ... don't know what it is," you reply, shrugging. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Wait," Aunt Sonia gasps, looking shocked. "We never taught you about //cats//?!" You pause, looking confusedly up at her. "...No?" She doesn't reply, instead opting to put a hand to her mouth, deep in contemplation.<<else>>"Ye don't know what a cat is, $callenChild?" Uncle Callen gapes at you, eyes wide. "We //must've// told ye what one was, one time..." "...I don't think you did, Uncle Callen," you grimace. "Well, that's on us, I suppose..." He chuckles lightly. "Now ye know, that's a cat!"<</if>> "His name is Iasper, my little treasure," the mage says, smiling down at Sam from their high chair. "He's so soft," The boy giggles, shifting to peer into the cat's eyes for a moment. "Oh, he'd better be," the mage snorts. "He eats better than we do, most days!" [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam8]]

You make a shocked, strangled sound as you move back, causing the wide-eyed creature to crouch protectively, staring at you as if you were the weird grey thing that just came out of nowhere. "What's the matter, $samNick?" Sam looks at you with a confused half-smile, already moving to comfort the wicked beast, rubbing his fingers across the top of its head. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Don't touch it!" You gasp, horrified that he'd consider going near it. You don't know what it //is//, so that's cause for concern.<<else>>You gape at the ease with which he approaches it, carefree in that way he seems to always be.<</if>> Sam actually //giggles//, instead of showing some semblance of caution. "It's just a cat, silly! You don't know what a cat is?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia puts a hand to her mouth. "Did we ... never teach you what a cat was...?" She sounds aghast, almost ashamed.<<else>>Uncle Callen stares with an open mouth. "I can't have forgotten to teach ye about cats, $callenChild..." he mutters unsuredly.<</if>> <<if $volatile > 50>>You scowl. "//I don't know!//" You growl, still glancing at the thing in your periphery while speaking, noting the way it flips onto its back to let Sam scratch its tummy. Is it preparing to attack, or something? It seems to have //claws//.<<else>>"I think you did..." you mutter, still glancing at the thing in your periphery while speaking, noting the way it flips onto its back to let Sam scratch its tummy. Is it preparing to attack, or something? It seems to have //claws//.<</if>> "You should move away from it, Sam. It looks dangerous!" "Oh, he's not dangerous," the mage laughs airily from their chair, "I hadn't accounted for a Solan child having never seen a //cat// before. His name is Iasper, my little treasure. He is as friendly as anything. You can stroke him, if you'd like!" Sam nods hurriedly, "Yeah, c'mon, $samNick! He's //so// soft." The boy waves you over, presumably to join him in petting this strange monster. [["Well ... alright," you decide, bravely stepping over to say hello to the thing. (Cautious -)|Chap2MagicTentSam8c][$cautious to $cautious - 1]] [["I'm staying right here!" You declare. This beast won't get you like it wants to get Sam. (Stubborn +, Cautious +)|Chap2MagicTentSam8c2][$cautious to $cautious + 1, $stubborn to $stubborn + 1]]

You take a brave step forward all of a sudden, and Sam's smile widens.<<if $samRomance > 0>> It feels nice to have him believing in you...<<else>><</if>> "Yeah, that's it! Come an' scratch his chin. He wants two of us pettin' him." The boy speaks very matter-of-factly, as if he could possibly understand what this thing wants. //Not thing, Iasper//, you have to remind yourself as you finally stand before the cat and reach out a slightly-shaky hand towards its upturned chin, fuzz shining in the bustling tent's light. There's a flash of lime green as the cat turns his head to watch you approach, and he blinks once your fingers tentatively brush against his chin. It takes all you have not to flinch away when Iasper stretches out, his legs coming to rest against your forearm as you gently scratch his chin. This continues for a few more moments, with Sam gently encouraging you and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> watching, amused. [[Maybe cats aren't so bad, after all.|Chap2MagicTentSam9c1][$chap2Cat to "like"]] [[Alright, that's enough. You've had all the interaction you want with this thing. You're not afraid now, but you certainly aren't a fan.|Chap2MagicTentSam9c2][$chap2Cat to "dislike"]] [[You step back, still uncomfortable. That was nice, but you reckon you're still afraid of the thing.|Chap2MagicTentSam9c3]]

The mage shrugs, unbothered by your adamant refusal. "Very well, then. I'll say it's your loss, sprite. He //is// quite soft, but alas. //Tss-ts//," they make a strange noise with their mouth, and the thing--cat, you remind yourself--suddenly springs up from its back, drawing a giggle from Sam, and makes a strong leap up into the floating chair. The beast quickly settles in his master's lap, making a noise like the rumbling of a carriage wheel on rough cobble. "You may peruse undisturbed now, little ones. Be not afraid of the beast," they chuckle, running a gloved hand slowly over the cat's back. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam9]]

"See?" Sam encourages you even further, "He's not that bad, is he?" You just keep smiling at the cat, rumbling happily under your scratching fingers. "He //is// really soft..." "Well, I suppose I shall let the two of you peruse now. //Tss-ts//," they make a strange noise with their mouth, and the cat suddenly springs up from its back, drawing a giggle from Sam, and makes a strong leap up into the floating chair. Iasper quickly settles in his master's lap, making a noise like the rumbling of a carriage wheel on rough cobble. It is a bit disappointing to see your new friend spring away, but you have some browsing to do! [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam9]]

You give the cat a wary look before stepping back slowly. You've overcome that small fear, but you reckon cats just aren't for you. "Well, I suppose I shall let the two of you peruse now. //Tss-ts//," the mage makes a strange noise with their mouth, and the cat suddenly springs up from its back, drawing a giggle from Sam, and makes a strong leap up into the floating chair. Iasper quickly settles in his master's lap, making a noise like the rumbling of a carriage wheel on rough cobble. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam9]]

Sam gives you a sympathetic smile. "Hey, at least you tried!" "Well, I suppose I shall let the two of you peruse now. //Tss-ts//," the mage makes a strange noise with their mouth, and the cat suddenly springs up from its back, drawing a giggle from Sam, and makes a strong leap up into the floating chair. Iasper quickly settles in his master's lap, making a noise like the rumbling of a carriage wheel on rough cobble. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam9]]

"Well, I suppose I shall let the two of you peruse now. //Tss-ts//," they make a strange noise with their mouth, and the cat suddenly springs up from its back, drawing a giggle from Sam, and makes a strong leap up into the floating chair. Iasper quickly settles in his master's lap, making a noise like the rumbling of a carriage wheel on rough cobble. [[Next|Chap2MagicTentSam9]]

Laid across the table--on a silky cloth, of course--is an assortment of little trinkets, the kind that might entertain you for a day or two, then end up taking space on a shelf or desk. You know these kinds of item well, given that there are dozens of Solan shops selling all sorts of little magical curiosities. Sam, however, does not, given that he's currently staring wide-eyed at a toy soldier, marching around in circles with a halberd slung over its shoulder. You can hear the gentle clacking of its wooden joints as it moves jerkily around. Small pinpricks of a soft blue light are visible from within the gaps in the figure's limbs. Sam, tongue stuck out in concentration, hurriedly digs around in his pockets, and you begin to hear the clinking of metal on metal. Finally, he wrenches his hand free from a pocket, holding in his fingers three little silver coins. "How much is this one?" He eagerly asks the mage, peering up at them with anticipation. "Hmm..." they tilt their head, pushing their spectacles down their nose for a second and giving you a look at their violet-grey eyes, "an eagle and a half, for the soldier." Sam quickly counts the coins in his hand, face lighting up with glee when he realises he's got enough. "Oh! I want the soldier, then. How do I--" The boy is cut short when the twinkling coins in his hand suddenly float up and towards the mage. You realise with a start that the lenses of their spectacles are //glowing//, etched with tiny thin lines. This must be the focus they use for their Functional magic, being Risen, much like Archer uses their rings. It's useful for storing pre-calculated spellwork, capable of being cast at a moment's notice. "Whoa..." Sam mutters softly as the coins gracefully land in the mage's outstretched hand. "Yes, this will do," the mage nods strongly, depositing the coins in a compartment of their levitating chair before slowly gliding down to the ground. They look at the marching figure, which suddenly stops its march and stops glowing. "Feel free to take the thing and give it a trigger-word. It will need to be powered every few months, depending on how much you use it, sprite. There's no shortage of mages here, so I think you'll have little problem with that!" "Thanks!" Sam grins, hastily picking the toy up. He holds it close to his mouth, almost staring cross-eyed at it, before muttering... "Walk." The toy flashes with light for a second, and nothing else happens. "You'll need to say the word again if you want anything to happen, sprite," the mage adds helpfully. "Oh! Then, walk!" Sam yells, delighting in how the figure once again lights up, this time permanently, its legs whirring around helplessly as he holds it between his fingers. "Amazing..." He chuckles, saying the word again to have it stop. [["You couldn't pick a word you wouldn't use a lot?" You giggle.|Chap2MagicTentSam10]] <<if $nickForSamCh2 == "yes">>[["Very imaginative, $nickForSam..." You sigh.|Chap2MagicTentSam11]]<<else>>[["Very imaginative, Sam..." You sigh.|Chap2MagicTentSam11b]]<</if>> [[There's no better time than now. "Walk!" You yell. (Sarcastic +)|Chap2MagicTentSam12][$sarcastic to $sarcastic + 1]]

"What d'you mean, $samNick?" The boy gives you a puzzled look. "When would I be sayin' 'walk'?" He startles as the toy whirrs to life in his hand again, before breaking into a fit of giggles. After stopping the toy a second time, he acknowledges your point. "I'll have to be more careful with sayin' ... uh," he hesitates, almost making the same mistake, "//movin' around with your legs.//" Sam grins triumphantly, pocketing the toy soldier. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Your turn, kid. //Don't// get anything loud or flame-y. I've survived thirteen years in this city with Archer, I'll not have some other mage's work doing me in." Aunt Sonia gives you an expectant stare, nudging you towards the table with her knee. With that warning in mind, you take a look at some options...<<else>>"Go on then, $callenChild," Uncle Callen stoops, smiling kindly. "Go an' have yerself a look. I'm bettin' there's plenty ye'd be interested in, eh?" You move forward, looking at some options...<</if>> [[A small levitating marble, looking like a beast's eye, draws your attention.|Chap2GetMarble][$chap2MagicTentItem to "marble"]] [[A hairpin, decorated with a jewel that seems to shift colours, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetHairpin][$chap2MagicTentItem to "hairpin"]] [[A little ring, adorned with a softly luminescent marble-white stone, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetLightRing][$chap2MagicTentItem to "lightring"]]

<<if $nickForSam == "Goldie">>Sam chuckles at you calling him 'Goldie'.<<elseif $nickForSam == "Sammy">>Sam scowls amusedly at you calling him 'Sammy'.<<elseif $nickForSam == "Sam-wich">>Every time you call Sam 'Sam-wich, he ends up quite tickled by it. After a few seconds of laughter, he recovers and says,<<else>>"I'll still never get why you call me that." The boy giggles, before continuing,<</if>> "It's the first thing I thought of, //$samNick.//" He punctuates his point by blowing a raspberry at you, pocketing his new toy and patting his pocket protectively. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Your turn, kid. //Don't// get anything loud or flame-y. I've survived thirteen years in this city with Archer, I'll not have some other mage's work doing me in." Aunt Sonia gives you an expectant stare, nudging you towards the table with her knee. With that warning in mind, you take a look at some options...<<else>>"Go on then, $callenChild," Uncle Callen stoops, smiling kindly. "Go an' have yerself a look. I'm bettin' there's plenty ye'd be interested in, eh?" You move forward, looking at some options...<</if>> [[A small levitating marble, looking like a beast's eye, draws your attention.|Chap2GetMarble][$chap2MagicTentItem to "marble"]] [[A hairpin, decorated with a jewel that seems to shift colours, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetHairpin][$chap2MagicTentItem to "hairpin"]] [[A little ring, adorned with a softly luminescent marble-white stone, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetLightRing][$chap2MagicTentItem to "lightring"]]

"It's the first thing I thought of, //$samNick.//" He punctuates his point by blowing a raspberry at you, pocketing his new toy and patting his pocket protectively. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Your turn, kid. //Don't// get anything loud or flame-y. I've survived thirteen years in this city with Archer, I'll not have some other mage's work doing me in." Aunt Sonia gives you an expectant stare, nudging you towards the table with her knee. With that warning in mind, you take a look at some options...<<else>>"Go on then, $callenChild," Uncle Callen stoops, smiling kindly. "Go an' have yerself a look. I'm bettin' there's plenty ye'd be interested in, eh?" You move forward, looking at some options...<</if>> [[A small levitating marble, looking like a beast's eye, draws your attention.|Chap2GetMarble][$chap2MagicTentItem to "marble"]] [[A hairpin, decorated with a jewel that seems to shift colours, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetHairpin][$chap2MagicTentItem to "hairpin"]] [[A little ring, adorned with a softly luminescent marble-white stone, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetLightRing][$chap2MagicTentItem to "lightring"]]

It honestly reminds you of the cat's eye--<<if $chap2Cat == "dislike">>you note reluctantly<<elseif $chap2Cat == "like">>you smile at this<<elseif $chap2Cat == "afraid">>you note with disdain<</if>>--though this marble is a mix of browns, golds and oranges, blooming forth from a central black slit, shifting around slightly beneath the glassy surface of the marble. You pick it up, inspecting the thing closely with your fingers. It doesn't seem to be doing much now, even though it was //floating// before. <<if $patient > 50>>You look up to the mage for some assistance. "What does this do?" You ask.<<else>>You shoot your gaze up to the mage. "Hey! It isn't working."<</if>> "Try warming it in your hands, sprite. Many of these things work off of heat." Oh! You quickly clasp your hands around the marble, rubbing it around in the warm enclosure of your grip. When you deem it sufficient, you open your hands again, and the marble almost springs up, hovering a good foot above your hand. "Wow..." you smile, watching as the thing spins in place. Moving your hand has it following the surface it floats above, though there's a slight delay in its movement, meaning it moves with a slight springiness. "Whoa, $samNick! That's amaaazing..." Sam breathes, full of awe--and perhaps a touch of envy. "Wish I'd seen that one..." "Will it be this one, then?" The mage asks, glancing between you and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen.<</if>> [["Yes," you confirm. Buy the floating marble.|Chap2Buy]] [["I'll look at something else, first," you say, glancing at that glowing ring.|Chap2GetLightRing][$chap2MagicTentItem to "lightring"]] [["I'll look at something else, first," you say, glancing at that nice hairpin.|Chap2GetHairpin][$chap2MagicTentItem to "hairpin"]]

The pin looks like a standard affair at first, with a simple band and a pin that goes through it, though each have some slight ornamenation. They're both a dark-greyish metal, the only colour of the thing save for the curious translucent jewel at the head of the pin. "Take the pin, and think of a colour," the mage explains. You pick the pin up, staring at the jewel--which is currently blank, looking like frosty glass. What better colour than your favourite? You think //hard// about your favourite colour--$favcolour, of course--and slowly, gradually, the jewel shifts to match its hue. "Oh, wow" you chuckle, impressed, as the jewel finally ends up a deeply saturated shade of $favcolour. "Y'know, it's not what //I'd// be getting, but I'm not you!" Sam laughs, evidently unenthused by your choice. "Will it be this one, then?" The mage asks, glancing between you and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen.<</if>> [["Yes," you confirm. Buy the colour-changing hairpin.|Chap2Buy]] [["I'll look at something else, first," you say, glancing at that glowing ring.|Chap2GetLightRing][$chap2MagicTentItem to "lightring"]] [["I'll look at something else, first," you say, glancing at that levitating marble.|Chap2GetMarble][$chap2MagicTentItem to "marble"]]

The ring is a simple affair, with what looks like a silver band--though it is probably just polished iron--inset with a luminescent rock, smooth as glass save for some thin black lines running just beneath the surface, shifting like little worms. Thankfully, it's your size, and fits very well on your middle finger. "How does it work?" You ask the mage. "Warm it with your palm for a while, and it should brighten," the mage explains. "Many of these things work by heat." You test their advice by placing your palm upon the glowing stone, moving it around for a few seconds. When you pull your hand away, you find much of your other hand--the one wearing the ring--illuminated by a pale blue-white light. It dances across the $skintone surface of the back of your hand, even catching the tiny hairs on the top of your forearm. "Blow on it to cool it down, so it isn't blinding everybody," the mage adds. You try this too, and marvel at how it dims near-instantly. "Whoa, $samNick. That looks like it could be useful! Are you gonna get it?" Sam asks, peering at the ring with a hint of longing. [["Yes," you confirm. Buy the glowing ring.|Chap2Buy]] [["I'll look at something else, first," you say, glancing at that levitating marble.|Chap2GetMarble][$chap2MagicTentItem to "marble"]] [["I'll look at something else, first," you say, glancing at that nice hairpin.|Chap2GetHairpin][$chap2MagicTentItem to "hairpin"]]

The figure ... does nothing. Sam blinks at you. glancing down to the figure. "Did you ... break it?" "It only motivates upon hearing your exact tone of voice, sprite," the mage explains after taking a long sip of a dainty pot of steaming tea. "That adorable little Abrian accent of yours will be a boon in making sure nobody else can use the thing," they snicker. Sam grins at the revelation, though there's a blush blooming on his cheeks at the mention of his out-of-place accent. "Oh--well, that's good..." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Your turn, kid. //Don't// get anything loud or flame-y. I've survived thirteen years in this city with Archer, I'll not have some other mage's work doing me in." Aunt Sonia gives you an expectant stare, nudging you towards the table with her knee. With that warning in mind, you take a look at some options...<<else>>"Go on then, $callenChild," Uncle Callen stoops, smiling kindly. "Go an' have yerself a look. I'm bettin' there's plenty ye'd be interested in, eh?" You move forward, looking at some options...<</if>> [[A small levitating marble, looking like a beast's eye, draws your attention.|Chap2GetMarble][$chap2MagicTentItem to "marble"]] [[A hairpin, decorated with a jewel that seems to shift colours, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetHairpin][$chap2MagicTentItem to "hairpin"]] [[A little ring, adorned with a softly luminescent marble-white stone, grabs your attention.|Chap2GetLightRing][$chap2MagicTentItem to "lightring"]]

<<if $chap2MagicTentItem == "hairpin">>"The hairpin, then?" The mage confirms one more time. You nod, and they smile. "One eagle, please."<<elseif $chap2MagicTentItem == "marble">>"The marble, then?" The mage confirms one more time. You nod, and they smile. "One eagle, please."<<else>>"The ring, then?" The mage confirms one more time. You nod and they smile. "One eagle, please."<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia grimaces as she hands the coin over, though she's always reluctant to part with //any/ amount of money, so it's of little note. "Lose it and you're going into work early to pay me back, kid," she says with a wink, though she otherwise sounds deadly serious.<<else>>Uncle Callen hands the coin over with little issue, smiling at you holding your new trinket. "Hope y'like it, $callenChild!"<</if>> With all that done, the three of you depart the tent, as the mage strokes the purring beast in their lap, giggling. [[Next|Chap2MTEndSam]]

This continues for another minute or two before <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> returns, holding two bows and two quivers full of little arrows. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Now, these are charmed to bounce off anything except the target they're meant for. Even still, //do not// point them at other people," she warns.<<else>>"Here ye go, you two! Be careful not t'shoot anybody with the arrows--they're charmed to just bounce off, mind, but I'd rather not have to explain that away!" He chuckles.<</if>> Sam takes his own bow with a wide grin, slinging the quiver over his shoulder with more difficulty than necessary, wriggling around to make it fit better before realising the thing has straps.<<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">> You put your own equipment on with a practised ease, having done this dozens of times before.<<else>>You resignedly put your own equipment on with a practised ease, having done this dozens upon dozens of times before.<</if>> You're then ushered into a group of other children, numbering eight in total with you and Sam. He immediately gets into greetings--introducing himself //and// you, to your amusement. Some of the children give hesitant smiles, though one or two mutter things like 'mongrel Abri...' and 'damn invader' under their breaths. Sam doesn't hear them, but you do. [[You give them your hardest glare, making absolutely sure they stop. (Cold +)|Chap2ArcherySam3a][$cold to $cold + 1]] [[You try your best to ignore them, hoping Sam doesn't overhear. (Cautious +)|Chap2ArcherySam3b][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [["Hey, shut your mouths!" You yell at the children, balling your fists. (Volatile +)|Chap2ArcherySam3c][$volatile to $volatile + 1]] [[You just try to make conversation with some of the nicer children.|Chap2ArcherySam3d]]

"Hey, that's good, then!" Sam laughs, "You'll be the first horse-bow-Weaver in history, I bet." Your conversation continues for another minute or two before <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> returns, holding two bows and two quivers full of little arrows. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Now, these are charmed to bounce off anything except the target they're meant for. Even still, //do not// point them at other people," she warns.<<else>>"Here ye go, you two! Be careful not t'shoot anybody with the arrows--they're charmed to just bounce off, mind, but I'd rather not have to explain that away!" He chuckles.<</if>> Sam takes his own bow with a wide grin, slinging the quiver over his shoulder with more difficulty than necessary, wriggling around to make it fit better before realising the thing has straps.<<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">> You put your own equipment on with a practised ease, having done this dozens of times before.<<else>>You resignedly put your own equipment on with a practised ease, having done this dozens upon dozens of times before.<</if>> You're then ushered into a group of other children, numbering eight in total with you and Sam. He immediately gets into greetings--introducing himself //and// you, to your amusement. Some of the children give hesitant smiles, though one or two mutter things like 'mongrel Abri...' and 'damn invader' under their breaths. Sam doesn't hear them, but you do. [[You give them your hardest glare, making absolutely sure they stop. (Cold +)|Chap2ArcherySam3a]]

Sam's smile drops a little. "Oh," he hesitates, soon lighting up again. "Well, you can still ride a horse. You don't know if you like that or not yet, right?" You shrug. You //don't//. "You're right." Sam pumps his fist. "Knew it! You'll be the first horse-Weaver in history, I bet." You're not sure what that means, exactly, but your conversation continues for another minute or two before <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> returns, holding two bows and two quivers full of little arrows. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Now, these are charmed to bounce off anything except the target they're meant for. Even still, //do not// point them at other people," she warns.<<else>>"Here ye go, you two! Be careful not t'shoot anybody with the arrows--they're charmed to just bounce off, mind, but I'd rather not have to explain that away!" He chuckles.<</if>> Sam takes his own bow with a wide grin, slinging the quiver over his shoulder with more difficulty than necessary, wriggling around to make it fit better before realising the thing has straps.<<if $chap2Archery == "likeVocal" or $chap2Archery == "likeQuiet">> You put your own equipment on with a practised ease, having done this dozens of times before.<<else>>You resignedly put your own equipment on with a practised ease, having done this dozens upon dozens of times before.<</if>> You're then ushered into a group of other children, numbering eight in total with you and Sam. He immediately gets into greetings--introducing himself //and// you, to your amusement. Some of the children give hesitant smiles, though one or two mutter things like 'mongrel Abri...' and 'damn invader' under their breaths. Sam doesn't hear them, but you do. [[You give them your hardest glare, making absolutely sure they stop. (Cold +)|Chap2ArcherySam3a]]

<<if $samRelationship > 50>>You're not about to let them make Sam feel unwelcome, especially today.<<else>>You might not be fond of Sam, but you won't let random kids make him feel unwelcome.<</if>> Something in your eyes quells their mean chatter, and they settle on looking away from the two of you. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam4]]

As the rules are explained to you by a tired-looking attendant--get the most points by hitting the inner ring with every arrow you have--one of the other children strikes up a conversation with you and Sam. She's a relatively tall girl, a bit taller than Sam, though perhaps she's just older. Much of her jet-black hair is kept beneath a band, glittering gold with green gems embedded in it. Small antler motifs are embedded in its surface, matching a necklace depicting a rearing buck that she wears. "Hello there," she smiles, friendly. "I haven't had the chance to speak to you two yet! Everybody else was talking first, "I'm Clarice. I'm //meant// to tell you my house and what we're doing here, but it doesn't really matter." She sighs. "Hiy-a, Clarice!" Sam grins brightly, reaching a hand out that the girl shakes, looking puzzled. She looked as if she was about to dip into a curtsy, so Sam's gesture must have taken her off-guard. <<if $cold < 50>>"Hello," you give her a warm smile of your own. "It's nice to meet you."<<elseif $cold < 50 and $cold > 45>>You mumble a quick 'hello' of your own.<<else>>You give her a simple nod as your greeting.<</if>> "Are you two good at archery?" Clarice asks, spinning her bow on one of the ends of its arms while holding it up with a finger. "I'm not, but $samNick here is--I think. I've never seen $them actually do it," Sam giggles. <<if $samNick != $firstname>>"Wait, //$samNick?//" Now it's the girl's turn to giggle. "That can't be your name," she grins questioningly, looking at you. You bite your lip. "It isn't. My name's $firstname." "So why does he call you that?" Sam begins to explain, "Well, it's because when--" You hurriedly stop him, giving the boy a pleading look. "It's because nothing, he just calls me it sometimes!" "Well, alright, //$samNick//," the girl says teasingly. "Keep your secrets!" "Are you any good at archery?" Sam asks her. Clarice shrugs. "I've been practising a lot. I used to want to train with a sword, because Father says it's expected of an Earl's child, but I suppose he didn't mean me." Her smile falters somewhat, "My brothers said swords weren't for girls, so I learned how to use a bow, but then they said //that// isn't for girls, either! So, I just stopped listening to them and learned it anyway. Now I'm really good--" The girl pauses, blushing. "I shouldn't say things like that. It's not humble..." Sam snickers at her sudden reticence. "So what? If you're good, you're good! But we're about to see if you're right or not, hey?" His eyes narrow in a challenge.<<else>>"Oh, I'm glad. Some of the others here have been at this a few times--//they aren't very good//," her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as she leans in and covers her mouth with her hand. You and Sam snicker at this. "Are you?" Clarice shrugs. "I've been practising a lot. I used to want to train with a sword, because Father says it's expected of an Earl's child, but I suppose he didn't mean me." Her smile falters somewhat, "My brothers said swords weren't for girls, so I learned how to use a bow, but then they said //that// isn't for girls, either! So, I just stopped listening to them and learned it anyway. Now I'm really good--" The girl pauses, blushing. "I shouldn't say things like that. It's not humble..." Sam snickers at her sudden reticence. "So what? If you're good, you're good! But we're about to see if you're right or not, hey?" His eyes narrow in a challenge.<</if>> [["So where are your brothers and father now?" You ask.|Chap2ArcherySam5a]] [["We definitely are," you smirk competitively.|Chap2ArcherySam5b]]

Too shy to say anything, you content yourself with keeping Sam distracted while trying to ignore their muttering. Thankfully, the boy doesn't overhear anything. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam4]]

Sam's chattering quiets at your outburst, as does that of the rude children. They look away from you, now quite chastised. "What was that about?" Sam asks, giving you a look. <<if $honesty < 50>>"Nothing," you lie. "They were just being annoying, is all." "Huh, alright. Y'could try to be a bit nicer, though, $samNick!" He giggles.<<else>>"They were saying awful things," you admit, though don't mention they were about him. Sam's eyes widen, and he nods in understanding. "Oh, alright then. I shout sometimes too, but I try not to..."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam4]]

Thankfully, Sam doesn't overhear the rude children's whispering. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam4]]

Clarice pouts. "Father took my brothers into the arena already. They know one of the competitors, I think. Mother wanted to take me to look at some jewels, but they all looked the same, so I made her take me here!" She then turns and points at a very prettily-dressed woman, in a silky gown entwined with golden thread made to look like twisting antlers. //This family must be very fond of deer//, you think. The woman notices her daughter pointing and gives a little wave with her fingers, smiling sweetly. Clarice turns around, cheeks slightly pink. "She never tells me not to do anything, but I think she wishes I did more lady things. I said I would if she let me do this, so I suppose we'll be looking at necklaces soon..." She slumps, but doesn't appear too bothered by it. "I hope I win, then maybe my brothers will stop teasing me!" [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam6]]

Soon, you're all lined up before a target of your own. Sam ends up to your right, and Clarice to your left, with the boy still fiddling around with his quiver and the girl staring intensely at her target. Every target consists of a canvas circle, painted with rings of varying sizes and colours with a black dot about the size of an apple in the middle, though it looks much smaller from where you are. That one must be what gets you the most points if you hit it. "You ready, $firstname?" Sam asks at your side, clumsily pulling an arrow from his quiver. "You ought to have put it on your hip, you know," Clarice points at her own quiver, hanging next to her leg. "So much easier to get them!" "Oh, I'll just--" Sam is interrupted by the sound of a loud, clanging bell. [["Archers, loose!" The attendant calls out.|Chap2ArcherySam7]]

<<if $samNick != $firstname>>"Oh, you're on, $samNick." Clarice grins at getting to use the name you don't like yet again, and you huff. "I'm just going to beat you even harder, now," you declare.<<else>>"Oh, you're on, little $child." Clarice grins, a competitive fire in her brown eyes. "I'm just going to beat you even harder now," you declare, "then we'll see who's little!"<</if>> Clarice and Sam laugh, each picking up their bow as the attendant starts to line you all up. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam6]]

<<set $archeryScore to 0>>The sound of several arrows whistling through the air fills your ears, along with the triumphant yells and defeated groans of various competitors. Clarice has already fired her first arrow, hitting the innermost ring--not quite the middle, but enough to put her in what looks to be a comfortable lead of seven points. Until you fire, of course. All of your training comes unbidden to the front of your mind as you assume the stance, plucking an arrow from your quiver and drawing it back. You breathe, reminding yourself of the scoring. Ten points for the centre. Seven for the inner ring. Five for the middle ring. Three for the outer ring. Two for hitting the white space outside of the rings. [[You loose your first arrow.|Chap2ArcherySam8]]

$strength $agility $instinct $finesse $charisma $martial $intelligence

Your arrow sails into the inner ring with a satisfying ''thwack'', the wooden shaft of the thing buzzing slightly from the impact. 7 points! "Nice shot, $samNick!" Sam cheers, though he ends up completely missing his first shot, distracted as he was by yours. "Aww..." "Well done," Clarice calls out, looking at you while drawing her bow. "But I'm afraid it might not be enough!" She looses her arrow, still looking your way all the while, and appears genuinely shocked when it sails into the black marker in her target's core. "Oh, Gods! I actually--" The girl sputters and stammers, while you quickly focus back on your own target, earning yourself five additional points. Good, but you're well behind Clarice, as is every other child competing. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam9]]

The next minute of shooting passes quickly, with Clarice earning another five points, then--to her great dismay--two, and then five again. Her strong start seems to have wavered. Perhaps it's nerves or she isn't as good as she says she is, but either way, she's faltering. Twenty nine points. Sam, to his credit, is trying his hardest, though he has only accrued six points in total. The boy stomps his foot, breathing heavily as he draws his final arrow. "//Guide me forward...//" you hear him mutter under his breath, speaking to something--or someone--that's not there. His 'speed over accuracy' approach to archery hasn't done him any favours. You have been firing steadily, netting yourself seven points after your first twelve, and then five, and then seven again. Your point total stands at ... twenty nine, too! You glance at Clarice, who slowly pulls an arrow from her quiver, readying it. The next shot will decide the winner. She'll certainly be aiming for the middle dot again. A dreadful second passes, and then her arrow flies from her bow with a //twang//. It spears the inner ring, coming dreadfully close to hitting the black mark of ten points, but coming up short. Thirty six points. [[(FINESSE) If you're deft enough, you're certain you can hit that elusive centre mark.|Chap2ArcherySam10a]] [[It isn't worth the risk. If you miss, you could lose. Aim for the inner ring, and draw with Clarice.|Chap2ArcherySam10b][$chap2ArcheryComp to "draw"]]

Perhaps it's your competitive spirit igniting<<if $mentor == "Callen">>, or Aunt Sonia cheering you on louder than she ought to from the sidelines<<else>><</if>>, but you aren't content with simply drawing. Win or lose, you'll know you tried your best. You let out a massive breath, and let go of your bow's string. //Finesse...// <<if $finesse > 0>>//Success.// Your arrow flies true, impossibly so, and plants itself in the direct centre of the centre of the target. You stand with a shocked look on your face, slowly morphing into a proud grin. You've won! Thirty nine points! Then, there's another cheer to your right. You quickly glance over at Sam's target, and your jaw drops again to find that he's //also// hit the centre, netting himself sixteen points in total. "Did I--" He stammers, pointing at the arrow with an open mouth. [[🌞+ You pull him into a triumphant hug. "We both got the bullseye!"|Chap2ArcherySamWin1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Well done, Sam!" You grin at his small victory, though you're still focused on your own.|Chap2ArcherySamWin2]] [[🌞- "Big deal!" You point at your own victory. So what if he did it too? You've won the whole thing!|Chap2ArcherySamWin3][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]<<else>>//Failure.// You can only watch with dismay as your arrow flies not into the target's very centre, but into the middle ring, netting you only five points. Clarice has won, and she makes it known with a shrill cheer.. The girl holds her bow aloft, grinning, though it's quickly interrupted by another shout--Sam's. You look at his target and your jaw drops to find that he's hit the centre, netting himself sixteen points in total. "Did I--" He stammers, pointing at the arrow with an open mouth. [[🌞+ You encourage him, "You got the bullseye!"|Chap2ArcherySamLose1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [["Well done, Sam!" You grin at his small victory, though you remain disappointed in your own failure.|Chap2ArcherySamLose2]] [[🌞- "Who cares, I lost!" You fume at his small victory.|Chap2ArcherySamLose3][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]<</if>>

Your arrow sails directly into the top of the inner ring with a //twang//. To your left, a groan, to your right, a ... cheer? Sam jumps up and down, cackling madly while pointing at his target. His arrow is embedded in the very centre. Other than Clarice, he's the only one to have done it. Well, good for him, but you've managed only a draw with Clarice. How will this even work now? What prize will you earn? [[🌞+ You encourage Sam in the meantime. "Well done, Sam!"|Chap2ArcherySamDraw1][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[You encourage Sam, though you're mostly nervous about your draw and its consequences.|Chap2ArcherySamDraw2]] [[🌞- "Shush a minute," you snap. "Nobody even won..."|Chap2ArcherySamDraw3][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 1]]

Sam squeals excitedly, bouncing and spinning around with you. "That was amazing, $samNick! We both got the centre, //and// you won!" When he parts, he points at the girl to your left, "Take that, Clar--" he pauses, grimacing. "Uh, nothing! I didn't mean--" "It's alright," the girl smiles, eyes still scrunched from disappointment at her loss. I can get too excited by these things as well. Well done, $firstname!" Clarice pats you on the shoulder. "That was a good shot." "Well done to me, too!" Sam pipes up, pointing at his own incredible shot. "And you too, Sam," Clarice laughs. "You're both winners today, but I think $firstname's is the bigger one." "Well, I never thought I'd hit the middle, but..." Sam grumbles, still grinning. "Does $they win anything, then?" He asks, looking around for the attendant. He doesn't need to look long, for the man finds you while ringing the same bell that started this contest. "And the winner, with thirty nine points, is..." He leans down to ask your name, and you mutter it into his ear, "$firstname!" A round of polite clapping follows, along with a small metal badge, dropped into your hand. It depicts an archer mid-draw. "Ooh, nice!" Sam glances at the thing. "You should put it on." It's a pity to put a hole in your nice clothes, but this is worth any talking-to you might get later. You're the archery //champion!// [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12][$chap2ArcheryComp to "won"]]

"Thank you, my fellow master archer!" The boy does a silly mock-bow, tucking his bow behind his back like a fencing sword. He glances upwards, and looks slightly worried. You turn to follow his gaze and find Clarice standing before you, slightly red-cheeked and having leant her bow against a fence. Finally, she grins from ear to ear. You thought she might've been upset, given her earlier competitiveness, but she appears fine--perhaps the redness is just from the exertion of intense archery. "Well done, $firstname," the girl pats you on the shoulder. "That was quite the shot." "And me!" Sam pipes up, pointing at his own incredible shot. "And you too, Sam," Clarice laughs. "You're both winners today, but I think $firstname is the bigger one." "Well, I never thought I'd hit the middle, but..." Sam grumbles, still grinning. "Does $they win anything, then?" He asks, looking around for the attendant. He doesn't need to look long, for the man finds you while ringing the same bell that started this contest. "And the winner, with thirty nine points, is..." He leans down to ask your name, and you mutter it into his ear, "$firstname!" A round of polite clapping follows, along with a small metal badge, dropped into your hand. It depicts an archer mid-draw. "Ooh, nice!" Sam glances at the thing. "You should put it on." It's a pity to put a hole in your nice clothes, but this is worth any talking-to you might get later. You're the archery //champion!// [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12][$chap2ArcheryComp to "won"]]

Sam shrugs, trying to seem unbothered by your jab. "Well, //I'm// proud. Well done, $firstname," he adds almost as an afterthought. Clarice comes over to congratulate you. You thought she might've been upset, given her earlier competitiveness, but she appears fine. "Well done, $firstname," the girl pats you on the shoulder. "That was quite the shot." "And me!" Sam pipes up, pointing at his own incredible shot. "And you too, Sam," Clarice laughs. "You're both winners today, but I think $firstname is the bigger one." "Well, I never thought I'd hit the middle, but..." Sam grumbles, still grinning. "Does $they win anything, then?" He asks, looking around for the attendant. He doesn't need to look long, for the man finds you while ringing the same bell that started this contest. "And the winner, with thirty nine points, is..." He leans down to ask your name, and you mutter it into his ear, "$firstname!" A round of polite clapping follows, along with a small metal badge, dropped into your hand. It depicts an archer mid-draw. "Ooh, nice!" Sam glances at the thing. "You should put it on." It's a pity to put a hole in your nice clothes, but this is worth any talking-to you might get later. You're the archery //champion!// [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12][$chap2ArcheryComp to "won"]]

The boy frowns. "I care..." You glance again at your target, and sigh in defeat, and frustration. "Well done, Sam!" Clarice encourages him, brushing past you to congratulate the boy on his small victory. "I didn't think you'd be the only other one to get the bullseye. Someone must be smiling down at you for luck like that." Sam smiles, glancing upwards. "I hope so..." Clarice turns to you. "That was really close, $firstname. You're good!" "Thanks," you grunt begrudgingly. She smiles politely, then moves away. Soon enough, the attendant from before finds her, ringing the same bell that started this contest. "And the winner, with thirty six points is..." He leans down, presumably to ask her name, "Clarice!" A polite applause follows, with Sam joining in. The girl is ultimately given a small badge for her victory, and she wears it proudly on her dress. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12b][$chap2ArcheryComp to "lost"]]

"Thank you, my fellow master archer!" The boy does a silly mock-bow, tucking his bow behind his back like a fencing sword. "Master?" You question, chuckling. "I didn't win, though." "You still did real good! Only one other person beat you, so that's a master in my eyes." "Well, thanks," you mumble bashfully. "Well done, Sam!" Clarice encourages him as well, moving past you to congratulate the boy on his small victory. "I didn't think you'd be the only other one to get the bullseye. Someone must be smiling down at you for luck like that." Sam smiles, glancing upwards. "I hope so..." Clarice turns to you. "That was really close, $firstname. You're good!" "Thanks," you sigh. "I wish I'd won, though." She smiles sympathetically. "Sorry you didn't, but I bet you will some other time. Skills like yours can only grow, can't they?" Soon enough, the attendant from before finds her, ringing the same bell that started this contest. "And the winner, with thirty six points is..." He leans down, presumably to ask her name, "Clarice!" A polite applause follows, with you and Sam joining in. The girl is ultimately given a small badge for her victory, and she wears it proudly on her dress. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12b][$chap2ArcheryComp to "lost"]]

"I can't believe I got the middle, $samNick! And, um, sorry you lost. You were real good, though. 'Least you never missed, like me!" He shrugs, grinning. You smile back at him. "Thanks, Sam..." "Well done, Sam!" Clarice encourages him as well, moving past you to congratulate the boy on his small victory. "I didn't think you'd be the only other one to get the bullseye. Someone must be smiling down at you for luck like that." Sam smiles, glancing upwards. "Yeah, maybe someone is..." Clarice turns to you. "That was really close, $firstname. You're good!" "Thanks," you mumble bashfully. "So are you." She just grins winningly. "I know!" Soon enough, the attendant from before finds her, ringing the same bell that started this contest. "And the winner, with thirty six points is..." He leans down, presumably to ask her name, "Clarice!" A polite applause follows, with you and Sam joining in. The girl is ultimately given a small badge for her victory, and she wears it proudly on her dress. [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12b][$chap2ArcheryComp to "lost"]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia raises an eyebrow at the badge pinned through your clothing, but her joy at your win must overcome her annoyance, because she smiles too. "I take it you beat them, then?" You nod heartily. "Just like I learned." She laughs, "Well, that makes one archer I like." It takes you a few seconds to realise what she means, and you snicker. "I hit a bullseye, too!" Sam exclaims, "I didn't even know I could do that." "Ha, well done to you too, kid! Maybe there's a future for you in hitting one in six shots." Sam snickers, "Maybe there is!" "Alright then, you two, let's go do something else." With that, Aunt Sonia takes you and Sam away from the archery stands. Clarice gives the two of you a wave, already having returned to her mother.<<else>>Uncle Callen claps for you as you approach, completely ignoring the badge pinned through your clothing. "Good showin', $callenChild! You managed t'get the bullseye too, eh Sam?" "I did!" The boy chirps, happy to be recognised. "But $firstname did the best. Maybe one day I'll win one of these things," he laughs. "Maybe, lad, maybe." Uncle Callen chuckles. "Right, then! Let's get goin'. Plenty to do, not much time to do it!" As the three of you leave, you spot Clarice with her mother. She gives you and Sam a wave goodbye.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2AEndSam]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia nods at your approach. "You lose, kid?" You nod sheepishly. "Yes..." She motions for you to look up at her. "You'll win next time?" <<if $cautious > 50>>"I'll ... try?" You hesitate. "No you won't. You'll win," she corrects with a smirk. "I'm proud of you. That girl was good, but I'm willing to bet she can't do half of what you can outside of archery."<<else>>"Yes!" You affirm, standing tall. "That's my $child," she nods, impressed. "Never let a loss keep you down. You get up again and again, and eventually you'll come out on top. I'm proud of you, $firstname. That girl was good, but I'm willing to bet she can't do half of what you can outside of archery."<</if>> "She didn't even know $firstname's gonna be a Weaver!" Sam exclaims, having realised he didn't divulge that bit of information to Clarice. "It'll be good for her ego, kid," Aunt Sonia chuckles, glancing at the girl. "Best not tell her now. Right, let's get going." With that, Aunt Sonia takes you and Sam away from the archery stands. Clarice gives the two of you a wave, already having returned to her mother, showing off her winner's badge with a gleeful smile.<<else>>"Good showin', $callenChild." Uncle Callen smiles sympathetically at you as he approaches. "That girl was a terror with the bow, I wouldn't be too hard on meself were I in yer shoes." "That's what I'm saying," Sam agrees wholeheartedly with him. "Oh--Mister Callen, did you see my shot? I hit the bullseye!" "That I did, lad!" "But $firstname still did better, even if $they didn't win," Sam admits. "Maybe one day I'll win one of these things," he laughs. "Maybe, lad, maybe." Uncle Callen chuckles. "Right, then! Let's get goin'. Plenty to do, not much time to do it!" As the three of you leave, you spot Clarice with her mother, showing off her winner's badge with a gleeful smile. She gives you and Sam a wave goodbye.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2AEndSam]]

"I can't believe I got the middle, $samNick! And, um, sorry you drew. You were real good, though. 'Least you never missed, like me!" He shrugs, grinning. You smile back at him. "Thanks, Sam..." "Well done, Sam!" Clarice encourages him, moving past you to congratulate the boy on his small victory. "I didn't think you'd be the only other one to get the bullseye. Someone must be smiling down at you for luck like that." Then, she turns to you. "That was a good match, $firstname! I can hardly believe we were evenly matched like that. If only I hadn't whiffed that bad shot..." She sighs. "Anyway, congratulations. I'm not sure what's going to happen, though," Clarice giggles, looking out for the attendant. Eventually he comes, looking confounded by the result. "Well," he rings a bell, getting everybody's attention, "the //winners//, each scoring thirty six points, are..." He leans down to get your names, "Clarice and $firstname!" A round of polite clapping follows, along with a small metal badge, dropped into both your hands. It depicts an archer mid-draw. "Ooh, nice!" Sam glances at the thing. "You should put it on." "What a result," Clarice chuckles. "Well, it's nice to be co-champions, at least!" It's a pity to put a hole in your nice clothes, but this is worth any talking-to you might get later. You're the archery //co-champion!// [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12c]]

"Thank you, my fellow master archer!" The boy does a silly mock-bow, tucking his bow behind his back like a fencing sword. "Master?" You question, chuckling. "I didn't exactly //win,// though." "You still did real good by drawing! You were evenly matched to the best here, so that's a master in my eyes." "Well, thanks," you mumble bashfully. "Well done, Sam!" Clarice encourages him, moving past you to congratulate the boy on his small victory. "I didn't think you'd be the only other one to get the bullseye. Someone must be smiling down at you for luck like that." Then, she turns to you. "That was a good match, $firstname! I can hardly believe we were evenly matched like that. If only I hadn't whiffed that bad shot..." She sighs. "Anyway, congratulations. I'm not sure what's going to happen, though," Clarice giggles, looking out for the attendant. Eventually he comes, looking confounded by the result. "Well," he rings a bell, getting everybody's attention, "the //winners//, each scoring thirty six points, are..." He leans down to get your names, "Clarice and $firstname!" A round of polite clapping follows, along with a small metal badge, dropped into both your hands. It depicts an archer mid-draw. "Ooh, nice!" Sam glances at the thing. "You should put it on." "What a result," Clarice chuckles. "Well, it's nice to be co-champions, at least!" It's a pity to put a hole in your nice clothes, but this is worth any talking-to you might get later. You're the archery //co-champion!// [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12c]]

Sam frowns. "Technically you both won..." The boy grumbles. "Well done, Sam!" Clarice encourages him, brushing past you to congratulate the boy on his small victory. "I didn't think you'd be the only other one to get the bullseye. Someone must be smiling down at you for luck like that." Then, she turns to you with a wary look. "That was a good match, $firstname. I can hardly believe we were evenly matched like that. If only I hadn't whiffed that bad shot..." She sighs. "Anyway, congratulations. I'm not sure what's going to happen, though," Clarice giggles, looking out for the attendant. Eventually he comes, looking confounded by the result. "Well," he rings a bell, getting everybody's attention, "the //winners//, each scoring thirty six points, are..." He leans down to get your names, "Clarice and $firstname!" A round of polite clapping follows, along with a small metal badge, dropped into both your hands. It depicts an archer mid-draw. "Ooh, nice!" Sam glances at the thing. "You should put it on." "What a result," Clarice chuckles. "Well, it's nice to be co-champions, at least!" It's a pity to put a hole in your nice clothes, but this is worth any talking-to you might get later. You're the archery //co-champion!// [[Next|Chap2ArcherySam12c]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia raises an eyebrow at the badge pinned through your clothing, but her joy at your win must overcome her annoyance, because she smiles too. "I take it you beat them, then?" "Well," you hesitate. "We sort of //drew//." "Huh," she mutters, "Well, that's sort of winning. You didn't do worse than anyone, did you?" "I hit a bullseye too!" Sam exclaims, "I didn't even know I could do that!" "Ha, well done to you too, kid! Maybe there's a future for you in hitting one in six shots." Sam snickers, "Maybe there is!" "Alright then, you two, let's go do something else." With that, Aunt Sonia takes you and Sam away from the archery stands. Clarice gives the two of you a wave, already having returned to her mother to show her badge off.<<else>>Uncle Callen claps for you as you approach, completely ignoring the badge pinned through your clothing. "Good showin', $callenChild! You managed t'get the bullseye too, eh Sam?" "I did!" The boy chirps, happy to be recognised. "But $firstname did the best. Maybe one day I'll win one of these things," he laughs. "Maybe, lad, maybe." Uncle Callen chuckles. "Right, then! Let's get goin'. Plenty to do, not much time to do it!" As the three of you leave, you spot Clarice with her mother to show her badge off. She gives you and Sam a wave goodbye.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2AEndSam]]

What if you somehow //do// hit the bell, and it falls on your head? More people ought to think of these kinds of things. The world would be a safer place if they did. "That's alright," Sam grins, "you can watch us two win!" The boy rolls his sleeve up and flexes a skinny arm, giggling. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia rolls her eyes, amused.<<else>>Uncle Callen chuckles, "Careful, lad. Ye'll pull somethin'!"<</if>> You move quickly down the line until the three of you are finally within reach of the hammer. It's almost comically large, standing as tall as you and Sam, with a big round wooden head and a rope-wrapped handle. It's been painted a bright red, though that's worn away on the edges of the hammerhead. "How am I even meant to lift that?!" Sam whisper-shouts. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"They're lighter than they look, kid. This whole thing isn't actually all about strength. There's a technique, and I'm gonna use it to get our money back." Aunt Sonia declares confidently.<<else>>"Try yer best, lad," Uncle Callen smiles at him.<</if>> Finally the man running the contest waves the three of you forward, grinning when he sees you and Sam. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>>Instead of him, it works on Aunt Sonia instead. Her expression darkens. "He's exactly as he should be, mate. Now take our money and leave the boy alone, else I'll find a different use for that hammer." It's no surprise that he hurriedly takes the money and scampers off soon after, Aunt Sonia staring after him the whole while. She turns back to you and Sam, all smiles. "Right, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<<else>>"Hey, he isn't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and he'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Aunt Sonia's offered coins--two half-eagles, one for her and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Aunt Sonia glares at him. Of the three of you, Sam--who the insult was intended for--seems the least bothered, in the end. "Well, I'm glad you had that handled, $firstname," Aunt Sonia chuckles sarcastically. "So, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<</if>><<else>>"You look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>> Rather than him, the jab bothers Uncle Callen, who shifts forward slowly. "Beggin' pardon?" The man's grin drops as he takes in the--much--larger man's stature, nervously glancing at the big hammer, lying within reach. "Meant no insult, sire. I-It's two half-eagles for the two of you..." Uncle Callen, now all grins again, readily drops the coins into the smaller man's shaking hands. "Many thanks, lad!" He scampers off without another word. Uncle Callen picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<<else>>"Hey, he isn't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and he'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Uncle Callen's offered coins--two half-eagles, one for him and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Uncle Callen sighs softly. "I would've handled that, $callenChild..." You scuff your shoe on the ground, shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, he was being rude. So I told him off!" The big man laughs. "I think ye've been spendin' too much time with yer Aunt Sonia as of late," he then picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<</if>><</if>> The boy readily takes the hammer, dragging it into position. [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam3]]

Never mind the fact that even the most muscle-bound of all the competitors here are having trouble reaching the bell, you possess something they do not. //Bravado//. You don't know what it means, but you've got it, according to Archer. "Big talk, kid," Aunt Sonia nods her approval. "Let's get ourselves in line." You move quickly down the line until the three of you are finally within reach of the hammer. It's almost comically large, standing as tall as you and Sam, with a big round wooden head and a rope-wrapped handle. It's been painted a bright red, though that's worn away on the edges of the hammerhead. "How're we even meant to lift that?!" Sam whisper-shouts. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"They're lighter than they look, kid. This whole thing isn't actually all about strength. There's a technique, and I'm gonna use it to get our money back." Aunt Sonia declares confidently.<<else>>"Try yer best, lad," Uncle Callen smiles at him.<</if>> Finally the man running the contest waves the three of you forward, grinning when he sees you and Sam. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You two look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile you and Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>>Instead of you, it works on Aunt Sonia instead. Her expression darkens. "They're exactly how they should be, mate. Now take our money and leave the <<if $agab == "male">>boys<<else>>kids<</if>> alone, else I'll find a different use for that hammer." It's no surprise that he hurriedly takes the money and scampers off soon after, Aunt Sonia staring after him the whole while. She turns back to you and Sam, all smiles. "Right, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<<else>>"Hey, we aren't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and we'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Aunt Sonia's offered coins--three half-eagles, one for her, you and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Aunt Sonia glares at him. "Well, I'm glad you had that handled, $firstname," Aunt Sonia chuckles sarcastically. "So, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<</if>><<else>>"You two look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile you and Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>> Rather than him, the jab bothers Uncle Callen, who shifts forward slowly. "Beggin' pardon?" The man's grin drops as he takes in the--much--larger man's stature, nervously glancing at the big hammer, lying within reach. "Meant no insult, sire. I-It's a half-eagle for each of you..." Uncle Callen, now all grins again, readily drops the coins into the smaller man's shaking hands. "Many thanks, lad!" He scampers off without another word. Uncle Callen picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<<else>>"Hey, we aren't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and we'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Uncle Callen's offered coins--three half-eagles, one for him, you and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Uncle Callen sighs softly. "I would've handled that, $callenChild..." You scuff your shoe on the ground, shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, he was being rude. So I told him off!" The big man laughs. "I think ye've been spendin' too much time with yer Aunt Sonia as of late," he then picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<</if>><</if>> The boy readily takes the hammer, dragging it into position. [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam3]]

"Just watch, $samNick. We'll definitely win!" Sam declares excitedly. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Big talk, Sam," Aunt Sonia nods her approval. "Let's get ourselves in line."<<else>>"Ye certainly will with that attitude!" Uncle Callen laughs. "Let's get in line, 'fore anybody else shows up."<</if>> You move quickly down the line until the three of you are finally within reach of the hammer. It's almost comically large, standing as tall as you and Sam, with a big round wooden head and a rope-wrapped handle. It's been painted a bright red, though that's worn away on the edges of the hammerhead. "I know I was all talk before, but how're we even meant to lift that?!" Sam whisper-shouts. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"They're lighter than they look, kid. This whole thing isn't actually all about strength. There's a technique, and I'm gonna use it to get our money back." Aunt Sonia declares confidently.<<else>>"Try yer best, lad," Uncle Callen smiles at him.<</if>> Finally the man running the contest waves the three of you forward, grinning when he sees you and Sam. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You two look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile you and Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>>Instead of you, it works on Aunt Sonia instead. Her expression darkens. "They're exactly how they should be, mate. Now take our money and leave the <<if $agab == "male">>boys<<else>>kids<</if>> alone, else I'll find a different use for that hammer." It's no surprise that he hurriedly takes the money and scampers off soon after, Aunt Sonia staring after him the whole while. She turns back to you and Sam, all smiles. "Right, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<<else>>"Hey, we aren't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and we'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Aunt Sonia's offered coins--three half-eagles, one for her, you and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Aunt Sonia glares at him. "Well, I'm glad you had that handled, $firstname," Aunt Sonia chuckles sarcastically. "So, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<</if>><<else>>"You two look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile you and Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>> Rather than him, the jab bothers Uncle Callen, who shifts forward slowly. "Beggin' pardon?" The man's grin drops as he takes in the--much--larger man's stature, nervously glancing at the big hammer, lying within reach. "Meant no insult, sire. I-It's a half-eagle for each of you..." Uncle Callen, now all grins again, readily drops the coins into the smaller man's shaking hands. "Many thanks, lad!" He scampers off without another word. Uncle Callen picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<<else>>"Hey, we aren't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and we'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Uncle Callen's offered coins--three half-eagles, one for him, you and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Uncle Callen sighs softly. "I would've handled that, $callenChild..." You scuff your shoe on the ground, shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, he was being rude. So I told him off!" The big man laughs. "I think ye've been spendin' too much time with yer Aunt Sonia as of late," he then picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<</if>><</if>> The boy readily takes the hammer, dragging it into position. [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam3]]

"That's alright," Sam grins, "you can watch us two win!" The boy rolls his sleeve up and flexes a skinny arm, giggling. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia rolls her eyes, amused.<<else>>Uncle Callen chuckles, "Careful, lad. Ye'll pull somethin'!"<</if>> You move quickly down the line until the three of you are finally within reach of the hammer. It's almost comically large, standing as tall as you and Sam, with a big round wooden head and a rope-wrapped handle. It's been painted a bright red, though that's worn away on the edges of the hammerhead. "How am I even meant to lift that?!" Sam whisper-shouts. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"They're lighter than they look, kid. This whole thing isn't actually all about strength. There's a technique, and I'm gonna use it to get our money back." Aunt Sonia declares confidently.<<else>>"Try yer best, lad," Uncle Callen smiles at him.<</if>> Finally the man running the contest waves the three of you forward, grinning when he sees you and Sam. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"You look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>>Instead of him, it works on Aunt Sonia instead. Her expression darkens. "He's exactly as he should be, mate. Now take our money and leave the boy alone, else I'll find a different use for that hammer." It's no surprise that he hurriedly takes the money and scampers off soon after, Aunt Sonia staring after him the whole while. She turns back to you and Sam, all smiles. "Right, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<<else>>"Hey, he isn't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and he'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Aunt Sonia's offered coins--two half-eagles, one for her and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Aunt Sonia glares at him. Of the three of you, Sam--who the insult was intended for--seems the least bothered, in the end. "Well, I'm glad you had that handled, $firstname," Aunt Sonia chuckles sarcastically. "So, who wants to hit some metal? You can go first, Sam."<</if>><<else>>"You look weak as weeds!" He chortles, clearly intending to rile Sam up. <<if $volatile < 50>> Rather than him, the jab bothers Uncle Callen, who shifts forward slowly. "Beggin' pardon?" The man's grin drops as he takes in the--much--larger man's stature, nervously glancing at the big hammer, lying within reach. "Meant no insult, sire. I-It's two half-eagles for the two of you..." Uncle Callen, now all grins again, readily drops the coins into the smaller man's shaking hands. "Many thanks, lad!" He scampers off without another word. Uncle Callen picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<<else>>"Hey, he isn't weak!" You fume at him. "Take the money and he'll //prove// it." He laughingly takes Uncle Callen's offered coins--two half-eagles, one for him and Sam--and says, "It's all yours!" As he walks away, Uncle Callen sighs softly. "I would've handled that, $callenChild..." You scuff your shoe on the ground, shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, he was being rude. So I told him off!" The big man laughs. "I think ye've been spendin' too much time with yer Aunt Sonia as of late," he then picks up the hammer with one hand, deftly handing it over to a wide-eyed Sam.<</if>><</if>> The boy readily takes the hammer, dragging it into position. [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam3]]

Sam lifts the hammer in front of him, arms already wobbling, and hefts it back over his shoulder, the motion causing his shirt to ruffle around his head like an oversized ruffled collar. The hammer finally smacks the ground behind him, and the boy narrowly avoids falling with it. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Off to a good start..." Aunt Sonia mutters,<<if $samRelationship > 50>><<if $samRomance > 0>> and you shush her, watching the boy intently.<<else>> and you shush her.<</if>><<else>><<if $samRomance > 0>> and you snicker, though continue to watch Sam intently.<<else>> and you snicker.<</if>><</if>><<else>>"Steady, lad!" Uncle Callen grits his teeth, stepping forward as his protective instinct--something you've been the subject of //many// times<<if $callenClose > 50>><<else>>, much to your irritation<</if>>--kicks in.<</if>> Making an exaggerated grunt and bracing himself for the swing of all swings, Sam lifts one foot in the air, high, before bringing it down while swinging the hammer at the same time. The red-daubed head sails up, and then down, directly onto the wooden pad with a thud. //[[Clang!|Chap2StrengthTestSam4]]//

Instantly, the little metal puck at the bottom of the pillar sails upwards, and Sam's gaze quickly follows it up, and up, and up, until... It stops halfway up, dropping limply back down, bouncing on the puck a few times because Sam didn't move the hammer. His shoulders slump and he releases a long breath before shrugging and dragging the hammer away. "Oh well! I never did one of those before," he says, satisfied with his performance, even if it wasn't a winner. <<if $strengthtest == "yes">><<if $samRelationship > 50>>Sam hands you the hammer by tilting it towards you, letting you catch the handle as it falls. He grins, giving you a cheery, "Good luck!" as he lets you pass.<<else>>Sam looks like he's going to hand the hammer over to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia rather than you at first. She waves him off, and he blinks before handing the thing over to you.<<else>>Uncle Callen rather than you at first. He guides the boy to you instead, and Sam blinks before handing the thing over.<</if>><</if>><<else>>Sam drags the hammer over to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> with a smile, straining to lift it like an offering.<</if>> <<if $strengthtest == "yes">>[[Your turn.|Chap2StrengthTestSam5a]]<<else>>[[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam5b]]<</if>>

Your first thought is //wow, this thing is heavy//, as you half-drag, half-carry it into position. You're faring a little better than Sam did, though that doesn't come as much surprise given that you actively train in these sorts of things--though swinging a big hammer has never been one of your exercises. You might have to ask <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Aunt Sonia to include that in her regimen<<else>>Uncle Callen to include that in his regimen<</if>> for you from now on, if you do well... The pad to swing the hammer on, which will then lever the puck upwards and into the bell above, is quite long. Where should you aim? [[(STRENGTH) At the very end.|Chap2StrengthTestSam6a]] [[(STRENGTH) In the centre of the pad.|Chap2StrengthTestSam6b]] [[(STRENGTH) Further up the pad, near the pivot of the lever.|Chap2StrengthTestSam6c]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia regards the hammer with the respect she would any other weapon, which is quite amusing. She keeps one hand close to the end of the hammer, slinging it over her shoulder. To see her using something with two hands is odd, because her own fighting style favours one-handed strikes with her falchion, leaving the other hand free for a shield--or, as she likes to joke, free to punch and elbow in-between strikes. You both wait with bated breath as she shuffles around in silence, peering down at the wooden pad to presumably find the right angle of attack. When she's satisfied, she shuffles into a wide stance, twisting her torso sideways slightly. The hammer jumps in her grip, and as if from nowhere comes crashing down onto the pad. Almost instantly the bell rings, almost vibrating the inside of your ears, before the puck quickly drops. Aunt Sonia turns around, arms spread wide to soak in praise--praise that only really comes from <<if $soniaClose > 50>>you and Sam<<else>>Sam<</if>>. "Hmph," she grunts. "At least someone can recognise greatness." She drops the hammer, letting it lean against the pillar of the game, and calls the man from earlier over. "I'm a man of my word," he says, slightly reluctant, handing her two whole eagles over, shimmering golden coins. "That you are," Aunt Sonia smirks condescendingly, pocketing the money languidly. "Right, you two. Let's be on our way. Not like anybody else is going to win," she laughs.<<else>>Uncle Callen approaches the game with little fanfare, gripping the hammer with one hand and hauling it back over his shoulder before quickly swinging it down onto the pad. There's a loud thwack, but to your utmost surprise, the puck doesn't hit the bell. Rather, it sails upwards, avoiding hitting the metal by a good few feet before clattering uselessly back down. He shrugs, gently setting the hammer down and turning around with a smile. "Can't win 'em all, eh?" Sam gapes at his failure. "I would'a thought for sure you'd get it. Now you won't get your money back..." "Aye, it's a pity, lad, but these things take more patience an' skill than I've got," Uncle Callen chuckles self-consciously. "Still, I reckon the two of ye had some fun, so it's not all a loss," he reasons, ever-positive. Sam puts a finger on his cheek, deep in thought. "I wonder how much these things cost to get for yourself..." Uncle Callen's eyes widen. "Don't tell yer father ye got that idea from a day out with me, lad. Let's be on our way, now. Can't spend all day here, eh?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2STEndSam]]

//Strength...// <<if $strength > 0>>//Success.// You heft the hammer back and then over your head, just like Sam did, to get the most momentum possible, all the while using your shoulders and legs to put as much oomph as you can behind your strike. It works! A satisfying smack sounds out as the hammer impacts the very edge of the wooden pad, with far more force than Sam had been able to put into it. Alas, it doesn't work as well as you might have hoped. The puck launches upwards, stopping three-quarters of the way to the top. The bell is still not within reach, to your disappointment. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Damnit..." you mutter under your breath, stepping back huffingly from the contraption.<<else>>You tut softly and pull the hammer away.<</if>> Sam doesn't seem to care about your loss, congratulating you on doing better than him. "Whoa, you're strong, $firstname. <<if $agab == "female">>Even for a girl!" He praises you earnestly. "//For// a girl?" You laugh. "What does that mean?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia frowns a little. "Strong's strong, Sam. No two ways about it," she corrects him, giving you a reassuring look.<<else>>Uncle Callen chuckles, correcting him, "Some o' the nastiest fighters I ever saw were lasses. Girl or boy makes no difference when ye're good at swingin' heavy things around, lad."<</if>> "Yeah, you're right," Sam mumbles, twisting his mouth. "You're just strong, $firstname!" He grins between the two of you.<<else>>You were so close!"<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Right, you two," Aunt Sonia stretches her arms out, swinging them around in circles to loosen up, "I'm gonna show you how it's done."<<else>>"I s'pose it's my turn, then," Uncle Callen takes the hammer, weighing it effortlessly in his hands.<</if>><<else>>//Failure.// You heft the hammer back and then over your head, just like Sam did, to get the most momentum possible, though you can't put much actual force behind the strike. Nonetheless, satisfying smack sounds out as the hammer impacts the very edge of the wooden pad, with about as much force as Sam had been able to put into it. Alas, it doesn't work as well as you might have hoped. The puck launches upwards, stopping halfway before coming quickly back down. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Damnit..." you mutter under your breath, stepping back huffingly from the contraption.<<else>>You tut softly and pull the hammer away.<</if>> <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Hey, better luck some other time, $samNick," Sam offers kindly as you move back. "Least you didn't mess it up, or almost fall over like I did!"<<else>>As you return, Sam offers a weak smile of consolation, one you aren't much interested in.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Right, you two," Aunt Sonia stretches her arms out, swinging them around in circles to loosen up, "I'm gonna show you how it's done."<<else>>"I s'pose it's my turn, then," Uncle Callen takes the hammer, weighing it effortlessly in his hands.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam7a][$stresult to "lost"]]

//Strength...// <<if $strength > 0>>//Success.// You heft the hammer back and then over your head, just like Sam did, to get the most momentum possible, all the while using your shoulders and legs to put as much oomph as you can behind your strike. It works! A satisfying smack sounds out as the hammer impacts the very centre of the wooden pad, with far more force than Sam had been able to put into it. The puck sails up, and up, and up, and to your great surprise the next thing you hear is a loud ringing! You've done it! Sam and <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> cheer behind you, and you feel awash with joy, making your stomach do flips even though you aren't nervous. Sam bounces in place, smiling giddily at your victory. "Whoa, that was amazing! You're strong, $firstname. <<if $agab == "female">>Even for a girl!" He praises you earnestly. "//For// a girl?" You laugh. "What does that mean?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia frowns a little. "Strong's strong, Sam. No two ways about it," she corrects him, giving you a reassuring look.<<else>>Uncle Callen chuckles, correcting him, "Some o' the nastiest fighters I ever saw were lasses. Girl or boy makes no difference when ye're good at swingin' heavy things around, lad."<</if>> "Yeah, you're right," Sam mumbles, twisting his mouth. "You're just strong, $firstname!" He grins between the two of you.<<else>>You'll have to train me to get that strong, and I'm older than you!"<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Right, you two," Aunt Sonia stretches her arms out, swinging them around in circles to loosen up, "$firstname already showed us how it's done, so this is just me showing off."<<else>>"I s'pose it's my turn, then," Uncle Callen takes the hammer, weighing it effortlessly in his hands. "After that performance, I'm a fair bit nervous, $callenChild!" He chuckles.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam7b][$stresult to "won"]] <<else>>//Failure.// You heft the hammer back and then over your head, just like Sam did, to get the most momentum possible, though you can't put much actual force behind the strike. Nonetheless, satisfying smack sounds out as the hammer impacts the very centre of the wooden pad, with about as much force as Sam had been able to put into it. The puck sails up, and up, and up, but stops //just// short of actually hitting the bell. At first, you think it will, but no ring sounds out. The puck falls uselessly back down, having come so close yet so far. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Damnit..." you mutter under your breath, stepping back huffingly from the contraption.<<else>>You tut softly and pull the hammer away.<</if>> <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Whoa, that was //really// close," Sam offers kindly as you move back. "You figured out a way of doin' it, $samNick! I bet you'll be strong enough to get it one day."<<else>>As you return, Sam offers a weak smile of consolation, one you aren't much interested in.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Right, you two," Aunt Sonia stretches her arms out, swinging them around in circles to loosen up, "That was a good effort, kid, but I'm gonna show you how it's done."<<else>>"I s'pose it's my turn, then," Uncle Callen takes the hammer, weighing it effortlessly in his hands. "After that performance, I'm a fair bit nervous, $callenChild!" He chuckles.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam7a][$stresult to "lost"]]<</if>>

//Strength...// <<if $strength > 0>>//Success.// You heft the hammer back and then over your head, just like Sam did, to get the most momentum possible, all the while using your shoulders and legs to put as much oomph as you can behind your strike. It works! A satisfying smack sounds out as the hammer impacts the inner part of the wooden pad, with far more force than Sam had been able to put into it. Alas, it doesn't work as well as you might have hoped. The puck launches upwards, stopping halfway to the top. The bell is still not within reach, to your disappointment. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Damnit..." you mutter under your breath, stepping back huffingly from the contraption.<<else>>You tut softly and pull the hammer away.<</if>> Sam doesn't seem to care about your loss, congratulating you on doing better than him. "Whoa, that looked like it would'a been hard to do. You're strong, $firstname. <<if $agab == "female">>Even for a girl!" He praises you earnestly. "//For// a girl?" You laugh. "What does that mean?" <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia frowns a little. "Strong's strong, Sam. No two ways about it," she corrects him, giving you a reassuring look.<<else>>Uncle Callen chuckles, correcting him, "Some o' the nastiest fighters I ever saw were lasses. Girl or boy makes no difference when ye're good at swingin' heavy things around, lad."<</if>> "Yeah, you're right," Sam mumbles, twisting his mouth. "You're just strong, $firstname!" He grins between the two of you.<<else>>You were so close!"<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Right, you two," Aunt Sonia stretches her arms out, swinging them around in circles to loosen up, "I'm gonna show you how it's done."<<else>>"I s'pose it's my turn, then," Uncle Callen takes the hammer, weighing it effortlessly in his hands.<</if>><<else>>//Failure.// You heft the hammer back and then over your head, just like Sam did, to get the most momentum possible, though you can't put much actual force behind the strike. Nonetheless, satisfying smack sounds out as the hammer impacts the inner part of the wooden pad, with about as much force as Sam had been able to put into it. It is ... not successful. The puck seems to barely bounce upwards, stopping perhaps a quarter of the way before falling like a rock. <<if $volatile > 50>>"Damnit..." you mutter under your breath, stepping back huffingly from the contraption.<<else>>You tut softly and pull the hammer away.<</if>> <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Hey, better luck some other time, $samNick," Sam offers kindly as you move back. "Least you didn't mess it up, or almost fall over like I did!"<<else>>As you return, Sam offers a weak smile of consolation, one you aren't much interested in.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Right, you two," Aunt Sonia stretches her arms out, swinging them around in circles to loosen up, "I'm gonna show you how it's done."<<else>>"I s'pose it's my turn, then," Uncle Callen takes the hammer, weighing it effortlessly in his hands.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2StrengthTestSam7a][$stresult to "lost"]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia regards the hammer with the respect she would any other weapon, which is quite amusing. She keeps one hand close to the end of the hammer, slinging it over her shoulder. To see her using something with two hands is odd, because her own fighting style favours one-handed strikes with her falchion, leaving the other hand free for a shield--or, as she likes to joke, free to punch and elbow in-between strikes. You both wait with bated breath as she shuffles around in silence, peering down at the wooden pad to presumably find the right angle of attack. When she's satisfied, she shuffles into a wide stance, twisting her torso sideways slightly. The hammer jumps in her grip, and as if from nowhere comes crashing down onto the pad. Almost instantly the bell rings, almost vibrating the inside of your ears, before the puck quickly drops. Aunt Sonia turns around, arms spread wide to soak in praise--praise that only really comes from <<if $soniaClose > 50>>you and Sam<<else>>Sam<</if>>. "Hmph," she grunts. "At least someone can recognise greatness." She drops the hammer, letting it lean against the pillar of the game, and calls the man from earlier over. "I'm a man of my word," he says, slightly reluctant, handing her two whole eagles over, shimmering golden coins. "That you are," Aunt Sonia smirks condescendingly, pocketing the money languidly. "Right, you two. Let's be on our way. Not like anybody else is going to win," she laughs.<<else>>Uncle Callen approaches the game with little fanfare, gripping the hammer with one hand and hauling it back over his shoulder before quickly swinging it down onto the pad. There's a loud thwack, but to your utmost surprise, the puck doesn't hit the bell. Rather, it sails upwards, avoiding hitting the metal by a good few feet before clattering uselessly back down. He shrugs, gently setting the hammer down and turning around with a smile. "Can't win 'em all, eh?" Sam gapes at your guardian's failure. "I would'a thought for sure you'd get it. Now you won't get your money back..." "Aye, it's a pity, lad, but these things take more patience an' skill than I've got," Uncle Callen chuckles self-consciously. "Still, I reckon the two of ye had some fun, so it's not all a loss," he reasons, ever-positive. Sam puts a finger on his cheek, deep in thought. "I wonder how much these things cost to get for yourself..." Uncle Callen's eyes widen. "Don't tell yer father ye got that idea from a day out with me, lad. Let's be on our way, now. Can't spend all day here, eh?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2STEndSam]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia regards the hammer with the respect she would any other weapon, which is quite amusing. She keeps one hand close to the end of the hammer, slinging it over her shoulder. To see her using something with two hands is odd, because her own fighting style favours one-handed strikes with her falchion, leaving the other hand free for a shield--or, as she likes to joke, free to punch and elbow in-between strikes. You both wait with bated breath as she shuffles around in silence, peering down at the wooden pad to presumably find the right angle of attack. When she's satisfied, she shuffles into a wide stance, twisting her torso sideways slightly. The hammer jumps in her grip, and as if from nowhere comes crashing down onto the pad. Almost instantly the bell rings, almost vibrating the inside of your ears, before the puck quickly drops. Aunt Sonia turns around, arms spread wide to soak in praise--praise that only really comes from <<if $soniaClose > 50>>you and Sam<<else>>Sam<</if>>. "Hmph," she grunts. "At least someone can recognise greatness." She drops the hammer, letting it lean against the pillar of the game, and calls the man from earlier over. "I'm a man of my word," he says, slightly reluctant, handing her two whole eagles over, shimmering golden coins. "That you are," Aunt Sonia smirks condescendingly, pocketing the money languidly. "Hang on, since two of us won, shouldn't that be triple?" She looks expectantly at the man, who stares blankly at her before turning around and striding away. "Well, that's me told," she sighs. "Right, you two. Let's be on our way. It's not as if anybody else is going to win but us," she laughs.<<else>>Uncle Callen approaches the game with little fanfare, gripping the hammer with one hand and hauling it back over his shoulder before quickly swinging it down onto the pad. There's a loud thwack, but to your utmost surprise, the puck doesn't hit the bell. Rather, it sails upwards, avoiding hitting the metal by a good few feet before clattering uselessly back down. He shrugs, gently setting the hammer down and turning around with a smile. "Can't win 'em all, eh?" Sam gapes at his failure. "I would'a thought for sure you'd get it. Even $firstname did!" "Hey, what's that--" "Aye, lad, but these things take more patience an' skill than I've got," Uncle Callen chuckles self-consciously. "Still, we've earned our coin back, at least. Thanks to $firstname the Strong, here," he pokes you playfully. Just then, the man running the game finds the three of you, holding two full eagle coins in his hand, shining and golden. "Since the $child won, you've still earned your coin back. I'm a man of my word, see..." Uncle Callen takes the coins before you can, winking at you. "Many thanks, friend! Right, littl'uns, let's be on our way."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2STEndSam]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Once you both have your hands stamped, Aunt Sonia ushers you through the now-open door. Just before it shuts, you hear parts of a conversation she strikes up with the nice lady at the door. "It's true, you know. I //am// a Weaver. Sonia Wierszy," she boasts with unmistakable pride. "I never did catch your name, did I...?" She is cut off when she notices you listening, and you quickly close the door behind you.<<else>>Once you both have your hands stamped, you step through the now-open door with Sam. Uncle Callen gives you a little wave before it shuts behind you.<</if>> "Whoa..." Sam gasps quietly. Before you is a large circle of children, older and younger than you alike, sat in a big group on a plush rug, nearly as wide as the tent itself. Some of them look your way, as the light from outside spills in for a moment, but quickly turn back to their real focus: the wispy strands of colour shifting above them. A helper quickly ushers the two of you into the circle, finding an empty space for you to rest on and watch the show. Some of the children grumble at you stepping over and around them, <<if $volatile >50>>and you scowl at them while Sam grins sheepishly<<else>>and you smile sheepishly with Sam, trying to get around as quickly as you can.<</if>> Sam plops down, sitting with his knees at an angle while resting his head on his hands. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>He smiles expectantly at you, perhaps hoping you'll sit with him.<<else>>He casts a wary look at you, perhaps hoping you'll sit away from him.<</if>> [[🌞+ Settle in next to Sam.|Chap2LightShowSam3a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[Shuffle away from the boy, making yourself comfortable in your own spot. You like your space, you explain.|Chap2LightShowSam3b]] [[🌞- Shuffle away from the boy, frowning.|Chap2LightShowSam3c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

<<if $samRelationship < 50>>Sam's head jolts slightly, having not expected you to //want// to sit next to him.<<else>>Sam's smile only grows when you plant yourself next to him.<</if>> <<if $samRomance == 1>>Your hands brush against one another, and you recoil slightly, mumbling an apology.<<elseif $samRomance == 2>>Your hands brush against one another, and you both recoil slightly, with you mumbling an apology and Sam's cheeks blooming with a dusky crimson. <<if $samRelationship > 60>>He contents himself with just leaning slightly against you the whole time, his arm on yours feeling a hundred times heavier than it really does.<<else>><</if>><<else>><<if $samRelationship > 50>>He leans against you for a moment, bumping shoulders.<<else>>He steals the occasional glance your way, probably wondering why you've decided to sit this close.<</if>><</if>> [[A loud call startles you into attention.|Chap2LightShowSam4]]

Sam nods in understanding. "That's okay! 'Least now we can both," he kicks one skinny leg out after another, stretching so that they almost go completely straight, "streeetch out!" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You smile and follow suit, stretching your own slightly tired legs out.<<else>>You scoff quietly at the sight. However, he //does// have a good point, you could certainly relax a little bit with the space between you. It's nice to rest your slightly tired legs for a while.<</if>> [[A loud call startles you into attention.|Chap2LightShowSam4]]

<<if $samRelationship < 45>>Sam blinks, having expected that outcome.<<else>>Sam's head jolts slightly, having not expected that outcome.<</if>> "I wonder what they're gonna show," he muses, staring up at the dancing shapes above--right now, there's nothing in particular being depicted. [[A loud call startles you into attention.|Chap2LightShowSam4]]

"Now, now, everybody!" A girl who at most looks about double your age calls out gently, hushing the bustling, excited chatter of children to a muted whisper. "It warms our hearts to see so many of you today, celebrating Sola and His great story. I'm sure you'll all have heard much about Him already," she says sardonically, drawing laughs from some of the older children, "so we've decided to show you a different story today!" Now the whispering rises again to an anticipation-filled muttering. Sam waits silently, staring at the girl with wide eyes. "Mayhaps we'll take some suggestions?" She grins, greenish-brown eyes twinkling under the shifting wisps of light that swirl around her head. Pieces of jewellery on each of her hands, rings and bangles linked with thin silvery cord, flash and glow with tiny movements of her digits. She must be one of the mages making the lights dance! You glance quickly around, spotting a few others in the darkened corners of the tent. So this is a multi-mage operation... [[It had better be good, you think. These things are usually just silly. (Optimistic -)|Chap2LightShowSam5a][$optimistic to $optimistic - 2, $lightshow to "pessimistic"]] [[That's promising. More mages is better than one! (Optimistic +)|Chap2LightShowSam5b][$optimistic to $optimistic + 2, $lightshow to "optimistic"]] [[You'll reserve your judgement. You've seen light shows before, some good and some quite poor.|Chap2LightShowSam5c][$lightshow to "neither"]]

You don't see the appeal. None of it is real! After the girl's request, dozens of shrill voices start to call out. "Daegal's Desolation!" "The Twin Kings!" "Tale of the Silent Ladies!" Sam joins in, cheering his vehement support for Daegal's Desolation--it's a story that's a mainstay on every Telfrini child's bookshelf, so it must be quite popular in Abria too. That one is by far the most popular among the children here, it seems, so it's likely that one will be depicted by the mages. [[Voice your support for Daegal's Desolation, a tale of heroism and danger--with plenty of dragons, of course.|Chap2LightShowSam6a]] [[Voice your support for The Twin Kings, a perhaps too-tragic tale for children, though one that's a staple of the land's history.|Chap2LightShowSam6b]] [[Voice your support for the Tale of the Silent Ladies, an eerie tale and a warning to those who might be reckless.|Chap2LightShowSam6c]]

From huge, complex scenes spilling through Sola's darkened streets--those were your favourites, of course--to Archer's own attempts at the art (after which they thoroughly explained they were not at all trained in the art of lightspinning, as it is commonly known), you're no stranger to light shows. They're one of your favourite displays of magical power, and there's no shortage of them at times like these. You wonder what kind of show this group will do... After the girl's request, dozens of shrill voices start to call out. "Daegal's Desolation!" "The Twin Kings!" "Tale of the Silent Ladies!" Sam joins in, cheering his vehement support for Daegal's Desolation--it's a story that's a mainstay on every Telfrini child's bookshelf, so it must be quite popular in Abria too. That one is by far the most popular among the children here, it seems, so it's likely that one will be depicted by the mages. [[Voice your support for Daegal's Desolation, a tale of heroism and danger--with plenty of dragons, of course.|Chap2LightShowSam6a]] [[Voice your support for The Twin Kings, a perhaps too-tragic tale for children, though one that's a staple of the land's history.|Chap2LightShowSam6b]] [[Voice your support for the Tale of the Silent Ladies, an eerie tale and a warning to those who might be reckless.|Chap2LightShowSam6c]]

From huge, complex scenes spilling through Sola's darkened streets--those were your favourites, of course--to Archer's own attempts at the art (after which they thoroughly explained they were not at all trained in the art of lightspinning, as it is commonly known), you're no stranger to light shows. They're one of the most popular forms of magical entertainment, and when done right can be quite the thing to see. After the girl's request, dozens of shrill voices start to call out. "Daegal's Desolation!" "The Twin Kings!" "Tale of the Silent Ladies!" Sam joins in, cheering his vehement support for Daegal's Desolation--it's a story that's a mainstay on every Telfrini child's bookshelf, so it must be quite popular in Abria too. That one is by far the most popular among the children here, it seems, so it's likely that one will be depicted by the mages. [[Voice your support for Daegal's Desolation, a tale of heroism and danger--with plenty of dragons, of course.|Chap2LightShowSam6a]] [[Voice your support for The Twin Kings, a perhaps too-tragic tale for children, though one that's a staple of the land's history.|Chap2LightShowSam6b]] [[Voice your support for the Tale of the Silent Ladies, an eerie tale and a warning to those who might be reckless.|Chap2LightShowSam6c]]

It's one of many tales of the mythical Daegal, a pre-historical hero--supposedly--who travelled across all of Phanol, doing good and slaying demons. Hi89s depiction is different depending on who you ask, with most Telfrini tales depicting him as a dragon-slaying warrior, while an Abrian tale might show him to be a guardian of livestock and farmers, fending off horrid beasts and bandits alike. This story in particular tells the tale of his journeys across Telfrin's east, where the old dragon kings once ruled all of Phanol. Sam delights in your support, and it's no surprise that once the girl has you all settle down again, announcing with a smile, "With a nigh-unanimous vote, we will show you the tale of Daegal's Desolation!" The boy claps giddily. "I love this one, $samNick. I bet they'll make Daegal look //soo// strong!" [[Next|Chap2LightShowSam7]]

Centuries ago there lived a Telfrini king whose wife bore him two twin sons. The elder of the boys was naturally designated the heir, but he was eventually seen to be unfit for rule. His brother, meanwhile, was charismatic, strong and kind. The two were eventually turned against one another, nearly sending the kingdom into a ruinous war before deciding their fates by way of a duel, fought with their own Empyrean twinned swords, forged at their birth. What happened next ... well, you've forgotten. Hopefully you'll get to-- "With a nigh-unanimous vote, we will show you the tale of Daegal's Desolation!" The girl announces, grinning warmly while gently shushing everybody. Well, that's quite disappointing. Many of the Telfrini-looking children cast you odd looks. The story is quite unpopular in the nation below given that it depicts a less idealised view of the royal family, though it is freely told in the Risen Cities. Sam looks at you, puzzled. "That's a kid's story in Abria. The kings were //real// bad at ruling, or something, and they both ended up getting lost in the woods," he says with a snicker. That's certainly different from what you know of the tale told here, perhaps Abrian writers take more liberties with the story... [[Next|Chap2LightShowSam7]]

Uncle Callen is quite fond of scary stories, and read it to you once last year. It tells the tale of a group of adventurers who come upon a group of a minor demon called 'silent ladies', a floating wraith that creates a bubble of silence around it. Any within that bubble are silenced, and powerless to call for help when the demon gets them in its clutches. You //really// hope those kinds of demon won't come back, as many others seem to have. Perhaps you'll get to shiver and cower from the tale again when-- "With a nigh-unanimous vote, we will show you the tale of Daegal's Desolation!" The girl announces, grinning warmly while gently shushing everybody. Well, that's quite disappointing... Your choice was by far the least popular, though a few of the older children give you approving looks. You were perhaps a bit young to have heard the tale when you did. Sam looks at you with wide eyes. "Silent Ladies are //scaaary//. I read about 'em in this big book in Alposa before we came up here. I don't ever wanna see one!" He announces this with a definitive swipe of his hand, cutting the notion of encountering the fearsome monster out of existence like a blade. [[Next|Chap2LightShowSam7]]

All in an instant, the wispy strands of light vanish, casting the group in darkness. In the shadows you see the announcer-girl shuffling around, getting away from the group with surprising ease, as if she can see in the dark. She quietly joins one of the other mages in the corner, leaning in to whisper into their ear. There are a few moments of still silence, as dozens of eyes look upwards to an empty black space. Then, a steady, quiet beat of drums begins as new light sparks to life in the centre of the air above, slowly forming the shape of a warrior, a flat image projected high above. The details of his armour--black but outlined in red--fill out first, and then his weapon, a colossal Empyrean steel axe with two absurdly large heads. The mythical Daegal strikes a heroic pose, axe held at his side like an oversized walking cane. "That's not Daegal..." Sam mutters grumblingly, staring at the scene with suspicion. A few hasty shushes from the surrounding children ensue, so he speaks to you quieter. "He's meant to have a scythe, $samNick!" [["That's the Abrian version," you explain quietly. (Cautious +)|Chap2LightShowSam8a][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [["Shh!" You're getting into the story! (Volatile +)|Chap2LightShowSam8c][$volatile to $volatile + 1]] [["Scythes are stupid," you declare, jutting out your chin. (Stubborn +)|Chap2LightShowSam8b][$stubborn to $stubborn + 1]]

"Here they show Telfrin's version, but I've seen the Abrian version a few times," you elaborate whisperingly, and Sam stares in awe of your knowledge. "You sure know a lot, $samNick..." He mutters before turning his attention back to the show. For a show of purely visuals, without the written word or a second of spoken dialogue--only the light drumbeat to accentuate particularly bombastic moments--this wispy-light rendition of Daegal's Desolation gets the point across quite well. It speaks to his good nature, his will to help others at any cost, and, of course, his ferocity when facing his enemies: the cruel Feu d'Ciels and their fire-spitting winged beasts. This continues for what feels like an hour, with the black-clad hero travelling the land, walking through impressively-rendered visuals of rolling hills and bustling towns made of hard light. Beautiful maidens, hard-faced warriors and sneering princelings make up the cast, each moving as if they were real people. The story ends with the hero walking, cloak around his back, into a sunset that illuminates the entire tent, casting everybody's faces in a stark, warm glow. It's ... surprisingly sombre. Daegal slew the last dragon, but none could celebrate his achievement before he had to leave yet again, moving on to the next battle... The crowd of children starts clapping, with some even whistling and cheering their support. <<if $lightshow == "optimistic">>[[That's exactly as good as you thought it would be. You sit back with a satisfied smile on your face.|Chap2LSSoa][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[You can't hide your disappointment. You'd been so excited to watch another light show, but it just wasn't that good!|Chap2LSSob][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<<elseif $lightshow == "pessimistic">>[[You're surprised, really. You were expecting something awful, but that was great!|Chap2LSSpa][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[Well, your earlier thoughts have only been confirmed. That was gods-awful.|Chap2LSSpb][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<<else>>[[You weren't sure about these things before, but at least this light show was quite good.|Chap2LSSna][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[Well, that was pretty terrible. While your mind wasn't made up on light shows before, you can certainly say this one wasn't for you.|Chap2LSSnb][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<</if>>

"They're not even good for fighting with. An axe is way better, even that silly thing," you argue, pointing at Daegal mid-swing, admittedly looking quite striking even if his axe isn't realistic. Sam gapes at you. "Nuh-uh! They are //not!//" He says this perhaps too loudly, because a boy in front of you turns around quite suddenly, speaking in a raspy voice. "Can you shut up?!" He fumes, before turning around and crossing his arms. Sam frowns, though seems unwilling to test this boy's wrath any further. He leans in and whispers, "You're still wrong," before moving back and sticking his tongue out. You huffingly turn back to the show above.<<if $stubborn > 55>>You've half a mind to rebuke him, but are yourself wary of a telling-off from that boy again.<<else>>You grumblingly concede, turning back to the show above.<</if>> For a show of purely visuals, without the written word or a second of spoken dialogue--only the light drumbeat to accentuate particularly bombastic moments--this wispy-light rendition of Daegal's Desolation gets the point across quite well. It speaks to his good nature, his will to help others at any cost, and, of course, his ferocity when facing his enemies: the cruel Feu d'Ciels and their fire-spitting winged beasts. This continues for what feels like an hour, with the black-clad hero travelling the land, walking through impressively-rendered visuals of rolling hills and bustling towns made of hard light. Beautiful maidens, hard-faced warriors and sneering princelings make up the cast, each moving as if they were real people. The story ends with the hero walking, cloak around his back, into a sunset that illuminates the entire tent, casting everybody's faces in a stark, warm glow. It's ... surprisingly sombre. Daegal slew the last dragon, but none could celebrate his achievement before he had to leave yet again, moving on to the next battle... The crowd of children starts clapping, with some even whistling and cheering their support. <<if $lightshow == "optimistic">>[[That's exactly as good as you thought it would be. You sit back with a satisfied smile on your face.|Chap2LSSoa][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[You can't hide your disappointment. You'd been so excited to watch another light show, but it just wasn't that good!|Chap2LSSob][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<<elseif $lightshow == "pessimistic">>[[You're surprised, really. You were expecting something awful, but that was great!|Chap2LSSpa][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[Well, your earlier thoughts have only been confirmed. That was gods-awful.|Chap2LSSpb][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<<else>>[[You weren't sure about these things before, but at least this light show was quite good.|Chap2LSSna][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[Well, that was pretty terrible. While your mind wasn't made up on light shows before, you can certainly say this one wasn't for you.|Chap2LSSnb][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<</if>>

Sam's brow furrows, and he smirks playfully hissing, "Well, excuse me, <<if $agab == "female">>princess!<<else>>my prince!<</if>>" Before leaving you to your viewing. For a show of purely visuals, without the written word or a second of spoken dialogue--only the light drumbeat to accentuate particularly bombastic moments--this wispy-light rendition of Daegal's Desolation gets the point across quite well. It speaks to his good nature, his will to help others at any cost, and, of course, his ferocity when facing his enemies: the cruel Feu d'Ciels and their fire-spitting winged beasts. This continues for what feels like an hour, with the black-clad hero travelling the land, walking through impressively-rendered visuals of rolling hills and bustling towns made of hard light. Beautiful maidens, hard-faced warriors and sneering princelings make up the cast, each moving as if they were real people. The story ends with the hero walking, cloak around his back, into a sunset that illuminates the entire tent, casting everybody's faces in a stark, warm glow. It's ... surprisingly sombre. Daegal slew the last dragon, but none could celebrate his achievement before he had to leave yet again, moving on to the next battle... The crowd of children starts clapping, with some even whistling and cheering their support. <<if $lightshow == "optimistic">>[[That's exactly as good as you thought it would be. You sit back with a satisfied smile on your face.|Chap2LSSoa][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[You can't hide your disappointment. You'd been so excited to watch another light show, but it just wasn't that good!|Chap2LSSob][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<<elseif $lightshow == "pessimistic">>[[You're surprised, really. You were expecting something awful, but that was great!|Chap2LSSpa][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[Well, your earlier thoughts have only been confirmed. That was gods-awful.|Chap2LSSpb][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<<else>>[[You weren't sure about these things before, but at least this light show was quite good.|Chap2LSSna][$lightshowop to "like"]] [[Well, that was pretty terrible. While your mind wasn't made up on light shows before, you can certainly say this one wasn't for you.|Chap2LSSnb][$lightshowop to "dislike"]]<</if>>

Sam notices your pleased look, and grins. "You liked it? It's not what I know, but that was pretty good. I liked Daegal's armour, in our version he just wears rags or somethin'." You snicker. "It's just like the books we have here. I liked how we could understand the story without any words..." He nods strongly in agreement. "That //was// really good! I wonder if they're gonna do any m--" "That, I'm afraid, was our last show of the day!" The girl from earlier steps back into the crowd, looking apologetic. Groans ring out as many of the children begin to stand, and Sam looks alarmed at all the people rising around him. [[🌞+ Stand up and offer the boy a hand.|Chap2LightShowSam9a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[Stand up on your own.|Chap2LightShowSam9b]] [[🌞-- Smirk at him. "Something wrong?"|Chap2LightShowSam9c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

Sam notices your disappointed look. "Hey, what's the matter, $samNick?" You shrug lamely. "It was just a bit..." You make another, more exaggerated shrug. "I didn't like it, even though I wanted to." He gives you a mischievous look. "So you thought it was a bit poo? That's a shame, I really liked it!" You stifle a laugh. "Sam!" The boy blinks at you. "What?" "...Nothing," you say, shaking your head. "I wonder if there are more--" "That, I'm afraid, was our last show of the day!" The girl from earlier steps back into the crowd, looking apologetic. Groans ring out as many of the children begin to stand, and Sam looks alarmed at all the people rising around him. [[🌞+ Stand up and offer the boy a hand.|Chap2LightShowSam9a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[Stand up on your own.|Chap2LightShowSam9b]] [[🌞-- Smirk at him. "Something wrong?"|Chap2LightShowSam9c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

Sam notices your impressed expression. "You see somethin', $samNick?" He asks, looking around where he thinks you're staring. You snap your gaze to him, confused. "No? I just liked the show." "Oh! That didn't look like you liked it," he tilts his head slightly. "Well, I didn't //think// I would," you admit, <<if $patient > 50>>shrugging.<<else>>slightly exasperated from his slowness to understand.<</if>> "Ohh," Sam nods, "so you're just happy you were wrong. That's rare!" He snickers, looking around again. "I wonder if they're gonna do another--" "That, I'm afraid, was our last show of the day!" The girl from earlier steps back into the crowd, looking apologetic. Groans ring out as many of the children begin to stand, and Sam looks alarmed at all the people rising around him. [[🌞+ Stand up and offer the boy a hand.|Chap2LightShowSam9a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[Stand up on your own.|Chap2LightShowSam9b]] [[🌞-- Smirk at him. "Something wrong?"|Chap2LightShowSam9c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

Sam notices your deadpan look. "Hey, you alive over there, $samNick?" He chuckles, waving a hand in front of your vision. <<if $volatile > 50>>Frowning, you swat him away and he laughs more.<<else>>You shift backwards and he laughs, stopping.<</if>> "I didn't like that," you sigh, "but I knew I probably wouldn't anyway, so I don't really care..." "Aw, I'm sorry you thought it was a bit poo. I liked it!" Sam beams. You stifle a laugh. "Sam!" The boy blinks at you. "What?" "...Nothing," you say, shaking your head. "I wonder if there are more--" "That, I'm afraid, was our last show of the day!" The girl from earlier steps back into the crowd, looking apologetic. Groans ring out as many of the children begin to stand, and Sam looks alarmed at all the people rising around him. [[🌞+ Stand up and offer the boy a hand.|Chap2LightShowSam9a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[Stand up on your own.|Chap2LightShowSam9b]] [[🌞-- Smirk at him. "Something wrong?"|Chap2LightShowSam9c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

Sam notices your impressed expression. "You see somethin', $samNick?" He asks, looking around where he thinks you're staring. You snap your gaze to him, confused. "No? I just liked the show." "Oh! That didn't look like you liked it," he tilts his head slightly. "Well, I wasn't sure I would," you admit, <<if $patient > 50>>shrugging.<<else>>slightly exasperated from his slowness to understand.<</if>> "Ohh," Sam nods, "so you're just happy you were wrong. That's rare!" He snickers, looking around again. "I wonder if they're gonna do another--" "That, I'm afraid, was our last show of the day!" The girl from earlier steps back into the crowd, looking apologetic. Groans ring out as many of the children begin to stand, and Sam looks alarmed at all the people rising around him. [[🌞+ Stand up and offer the boy a hand.|Chap2LightShowSam9a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[Stand up on your own.|Chap2LightShowSam9b]] [[🌞-- Smirk at him. "Something wrong?"|Chap2LightShowSam9c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

Sam notices your deadpan look. "Hey, you alive over there, $samNick?" He chuckles, waving a hand in front of your vision. <<if $volatile > 50>>Frowning, you swat him away and he laughs more.<<else>>You shift backwards and he laughs, stopping.<</if>> "I didn't like that," you sigh, "but I wasn't sure about the whole thing anyway, so I don't //really// care..." "Aw, I'm sorry you thought it was a bit poo. I liked it!" Sam beams. You stifle a laugh. "Sam!" The boy blinks at you. "What?" "...Nothing," you say, shaking your head. "I wonder if there are more--" "That, I'm afraid, was our last show of the day!" The girl from earlier steps back into the crowd, looking apologetic. Groans ring out as many of the children begin to stand, and Sam looks alarmed at all the people rising around him. [[🌞+ Stand up and offer the boy a hand.|Chap2LightShowSam9a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[Stand up on your own.|Chap2LightShowSam9b]] [[🌞-- Smirk at him. "Something wrong?"|Chap2LightShowSam9c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship - 2]]

Sam quite desperately takes your hand, hopping up on his feet as fast as he can. "Thanks, $firstname!" He chirps, dusting off the tail of his shirt, slightly crumpled from his time on the floor. "Let's go," you decide, "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia will be waiting for us." "She seemed to like the lady at the door, I hope they made friends!" he smiles.<<else>>Uncle Callen will be waiting for us." "I hope he didn't get bored," Sam says while following you to the door, which swings open.<</if>> There's quite a large crowd of adults outside, waiting for everybody to spill out, which they inevitably do. You and Sam stick close<<if $samRelationship < 50>>, more out of necessity than anything<<else>><</if>>, nudging your way through when you notice <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia waving to you both. "Hi-ya, Miss Sonia," Sam smiles sweetly once you approach, giggling when Aunt Sonia greets you with a knock to the shoulder like usual. "Where'd your friend go from earlier?" Aunt Sonia's brow furrows, the corners of her mouth quirking down. "My friend?" "The lady you were talking to at the door?" You join in, looking at Sam, puzzled. How doesn't she know who her friends are? She doesn't have many, so that should make it easier... She blinks. "Oh--her. Well, she needs to watch the door and make sure none of you kids end up running away, doesn't she? People can't talk all the time when they're doing their jobs, kids." "Oh, well I guess you can talk later, right?" Sam grins, finding a solution to Aunt Sonia's woes. She coughs, seeming surprised. "I'm, uh, sure we will talk later, Sam. I think we'd like that."<<else>>Uncle Callen waving to you both. He ruffles your hair when you get close, and Sam giggles. "Can you do that to me too?" Uncle Callen laughs before doing it right away, leaving the boy's curly hair standing on end like a field of wheat. He looks dizzy. "Does yer pa do that, lad?" Sam shakes his head, partly to answer him and partly to attempt to fix his current state. "No, my--" he pauses, "um, I just like it." Uncle Callen blinks, eyes widening slightly. "Alright then, lad."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2LightShowSam10]]

Sam quickly hops up alongside you, almost shying away from the bustling crowd of children now. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>It's strange how he changes his demeanour like //that//, in an instant.<<else>>//He's being a bit of a baby,// you think. <<if $cold > 50>>You aren't especially fond of being around lots of people either, but you wouldn't take it this far.<<else>><</if>> "Let's go," you decide, "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia will be waiting for us." "She seemed to like the lady at the door, I hope they made friends!" he smiles.<<else>>Uncle Callen will be waiting for us." "I hope he didn't get bored," Sam says while following you to the door, which swings open.<</if>> There's quite a large crowd of adults outside, waiting for everybody to spill out, which they inevitably do. You and Sam stick close<<if $samRelationship < 50>>, more out of necessity than anything<<else>><</if>>, nudging your way through when you notice <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia waving to you both. "Hi-ya, Miss Sonia," Sam smiles sweetly once you approach, giggling when Aunt Sonia greets you with a knock to the shoulder like usual. "Where'd your friend go from earlier?" Aunt Sonia's brow furrows, the corners of her mouth quirking down. "My friend?" "The lady you were talking to at the door?" You join in, looking at Sam, puzzled. How doesn't she know who her friends are? She doesn't have many, so that should make it easier... She blinks. "Oh--her. Well, she needs to watch the door and make sure none of you kids end up running away, doesn't she? People can't talk all the time when they're doing their jobs, you know." "Oh, well I guess you can talk later, right?" Sam grins, finding a solution to Aunt Sonia's woes. She coughs, surprised. "I'm, uh, sure we will talk later, Sam. I think we'd like that."<<else>>Uncle Callen waving to you both. He ruffles your hair when you get close, and Sam giggles. "Can you do that to me too?" Uncle Callen laughs before he obliges, jolting Sam's head around quite roughyl and leaving the boy's curly hair standing on end like a field of wheat. He wobbles around in place. "Does yer pa do that, lad?" Sam shakes his head, partly to answer him and partly to attempt to fix his hair. "No, my--" he pauses, "um, I just like it." Uncle Callen blinks, eyes widening slightly. "Alright then, lad."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2LightShowSam10]]

Sam's brow quivers for a moment, and the boy starts to look self-conscious even as he quickly stands, holding one arm with the other draped across his chest protectively. "Everyone got up too quick," he mumbles. Is he about to cry? You stifle a snicker--mainly because you don't want him to //actually// cry. "Let's go," you decide, "<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia will be waiting for us." "She seemed to like the lady at the door, I hope they made friends!" he smiles, already in better spirits.<<else>>Uncle Callen will be waiting for us." "I hope he didn't get bored," Sam says, already in better spirits, while following you to the door.<</if>> There's quite a large crowd of adults outside, waiting for everybody to spill out, which they inevitably do. You and Sam stick close<<if $samRelationship < 50>>, more out of necessity than anything<<else>><</if>>, nudging your way through when you notice <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia waving to you both. "Hi-ya, Miss Sonia," Sam smiles sweetly once you approach, giggling when Aunt Sonia greets you with a knock to the shoulder like usual. "Where'd your friend go from earlier?" Aunt Sonia's brow furrows, the corners of her mouth quirking down. "My friend?" "The lady you were talking to at the door?" You join in, looking at Sam, puzzled. How doesn't she know who her friends are? She doesn't have many, so that should make it easier... She blinks. "Oh--her. Well, she needs to watch the door and make sure none of you kids end up running away, doesn't she? People can't talk all the time when they're doing their jobs, kids." "Oh, well I guess you can talk later, right?" Sam grins, finding a solution to Aunt Sonia's woes. She coughs, seeming surprised. "I'm, uh, sure we will talk later, Sam. I think we'd like that."<<else>>Uncle Callen waving to you both. He ruffles your hair when you get close, and Sam giggles. "Can you do that to me too?" Uncle Callen laughs before he obliges, jolting Sam's head around quite roughyl and leaving the boy's curly hair standing on end like a field of wheat. He wobbles around in place. "Does yer pa do that, lad?" Sam shakes his head, partly to answer him and partly to attempt to fix his hair. "No, my--" he pauses, "um, I just like it." Uncle Callen blinks, eyes widening slightly. "Alright then, lad."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2LightShowSam10]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"So, how'd ye both like the show? I hear they were doin' one of the Daegal stories. Good memories readin' those things as a lad..." Uncle Callen smiles wistfully. "I liked it!" Sam declares, giving a big thumbs up to the big man. <<if $lightshowop == "like">>$firstname did as well," he says, looking at you and grinning, happy to have something you both enjoyed. "Aye, my $callenChild has the best of taste, Sam!" Uncle Callen chortles, beaming between the two of you. "I'm glad ye had a good time in there, now let's go an' have more of those somewhere else, 'fore we end up crammed in that arena for an afternoon."<<else>>$firstname didn't, but I don't mind." "Ah, well, not everyone's made to enjoy the good things in life," Uncle Callen chuckles, winking at you. "Hey, I just--" you start to protest, but are cut off by him. "Ye're forgiven, $callenChild! I'll not get ye anythin' else to do with the Old Hero from now on," he says solemnly. "I didn't say //that//, I just didn't like the show," you groan. "I'm just pullin' yer leg, $callenChild," he says apologetically, before pinching your arm. "An' yer arm, an' yer head, ears, nose--" he pinches each of these parts as he lists them, causing you to dart away from him, giggling. "Alright now, where are we off to next?" Uncle Callen hums once you're all back together. "I reckon we can see some more o' the sights 'fore we end up in that arena for an afternoon."<</if>><<else>>"How was Daegal's whatever?" Aunt Sonia asks, genuine interest in her expression despite her dismissive words. It's just one of the things she likes to do, and you're not sure if there's any reason behind it. Perhaps she just likes to be annoying. "Daegal's des-lation," Sam corrects her quite confidently, mispronunciation and all, before gushing about the show. "I really liked it! <<if $lightshowop == "like">>So did $firstname," he says, grinning at you for a moment, happy to have something you both enjoyed.<<else>>$firstname didn't, but I don't mind."<</if>> "Fantastic," Aunt Sonia says, crossing her arms. "Well, then, it looks like it's time for us to move on to greener tents, hey? I'm sure there's more to see before we get going."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2LSEndSam]]

Your panic grows, an invisible grip seizing at your throat and chest. "I--I don't..." She continues without registering your response, babbling frantically. "Wings! O, I see the shadow of wings on desert sand, hear the creak of iron beneath the scarlet corona. //Be not afeared of the blood-slick petals.// In your name. In the name of--" All too soon, she's thrown out of her stupor, and her eyes lock back into place, immediately kind and worried. "//Oh my//--is everything alright, dear? Did I frighten you?" You shake your head hurriedly, clasping your hands together to stop their incessant shaking, too stunned to answer honestly. <<if $honesty > 50>>"No, I'm a-alright." The lie is evident to her, but she says nothing more.<<else>>"No, I'm alright." Your lie seems to go undetected, and she smiles sweetly.<</if>> "Good, then. I truly am sorry, my dear. Some are more receptive to the readings than others, so it can often end up as little more than nonsense. Run on now, and call that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>lovely young lady in<<else>>handsome fellow in<</if>>, will you?<</if>>" [[Too shocked to hesitate, you scramble out of the chair.|Chap2FortuneTeller11a]]

You stumble through the curtains, which are even heavier than they look, and emerge to<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's<<else>>Uncle Callen's<</if>> bemused expression. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"All good, $firstname?" Aunt Sonia looks you over as you approach her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."<<else>>"Y'look worried, $callenChild. Everythin' okay?" Uncle Callen frowns as you approach him.<</if>> For a moment you think that you'll be able to explain, in full, just what the witch said to you in her dazed stupor. It comes to be a fantastical notion, as you're only able to offer a fleeting summary. "Scary--she said lots of scary things." Endlessly frustrated with your own resistant mind, you <<if $volatile >= 50>>stomp the ground impotently<<else>>clench your fists, managing to contain your anger for the time being.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He crouches, clutching your arm gently. "Whatever she said ain't the least bit set in stone, $callenChild. Remember these things're more performance than prediction."<<else>>She sighs, gently brushing a finger through your mussed hair. "Don't put any stock in the sayings of fortune tellers, $firstname. Listening to prophecy has never done anyone a lick of good in the end. Am I clear?"<</if>> You nod quickly, almost too eager to accept the idea that none of what you heard was meaningful. How could it have been, when it was absolute gibberish to your ears? [[It must have just been a bad reading. They can happen, right?|Chap2FortuneTeller12a]] [[The notion that your fortune is to be the jumbled frenzy the witch described lingers in the back of your mind, dark and writhing.|Chap2FortuneTeller12a]]

To your mild surprise, you are given no answer. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia must have heard something bad, with the way she's looking at you, not even offering some insight into what she heard from the witch. She looks strangely disturbed... "Right," Aunt Sonia declares, interrupting your thoughts, "it's your turn, $firstname. Off you pop. Best of luck, kid. she nods as you pass. "Don't take whatever she says too seriously, remember."<<else>>Uncle Callen must have heard something bad, with the way he's trying not to look at you, not even offering some insight into what he heard from the witch. He looks strangely disturbed... "Well!" Uncle Callen booms, interrupting your thoughts. "I'd say it's high time that yer own fortune got a good readin', eh?" As you walk by, he speaks to you again, hushed. "Good luck, $callenChild, an' don't be gettin any dark prophecies read about yerself, eh?" Uncle Callen winks, and waggles his fingers like a ghost. What a silly old man.<</if>> [[Now it's your turn.|Chap2FortuneTeller9c]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, she sat me down, was rude, and she took some of my hair--which I //very much// objected to--" <<if $soniaClose >= 55>>"Not that, silly!" You giggle, <<else>>"That's not what I meant..." You sigh, <</if>>"Why can't you say anything about the fortune she gave?" She clicks her tongue in thought, looking slightly disturbed. "You'll just have to trust me when I say it's only worth hearing later on. I'll give you a hint, though: it does mention you." She says, with a wink. The curtains flutter open behind her, and the witch steps out, looking at you. "It's your turn now, $firstname. Don't take whatever she says too seriously, remember."<<else>>"Tell ya once ye're grown up, $callenChild. Promise." He winks. Despite that, he looks strangely disturbed... "Well!" Uncle Callen booms, interrupting your thoughts. "I'd say it's high time that yer own fortune got a good readin', eh?" As you walk by, he speaks to you again, hushed. "Good luck, $callenChild, an' don't be gettin any dark prophecies read about yerself, eh?" Uncle Callen winks, and waggles his fingers like a ghost. What a silly old man.<</if>> [[Now it's your turn.|Chap2FortuneTeller9c]]

To your mild surprise, you are given no answer. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia must have heard something bad, with the way she's looking at you, not even offering some insight into what she heard from the witch. She looks strangely disturbed... "Right," Aunt Sonia declares, interrupting your thoughts, "we've got more places to be, haven't we? Since you're not up for a spot of having your fate read," she nods coolly towards the witch, now having emerged from her den, "we're all done here. Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>Uncle Callen must have heard something bad, with the way he's trying not to look at you, not even offering some insight into what he heard from the witch. He looks strangely disturbed... "Well!" Uncle Callen booms, interrupting your thoughts. "I'd say it's high time the two o' us got ourselves out of this bleedin' dark tent and into somewhere more cheery, eh, $callenChild?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he bids goodbye to the witch, now having popped out of her curtained den. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, both of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEnd]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, the loss of a bit of my hair was //sorely// felt." She mutters sourly, brushing the short, still-growing remnants of her ordeal on the surface. "But, uh, I'll tell you once you're older, kid. We got a deal?" She looks strangely disturbed... "Right," Aunt Sonia declares, interrupting your thoughts, "we've got more places to be, haven't we? Since you're not up for a spot of having your fate read," she nods coolly towards the witch, now having emerged from her den, "we're all done here. Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>"Tell ya once ye're grown up, $callenChild. Promise." He winks. Despite that, he looks strangely disturbed... "Well!" Uncle Callen booms, interrupting your thoughts. "I'd say it's high time the two o' us got ourselves out of this bleedin' dark tent and into somewhere more cheery, eh, $callenChild?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he bids goodbye to the witch, now having popped out of her curtained den. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, both of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEnd]]

Departing the tent, <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia bumps your shoulder. "What's next, kid?"<<else>>Uncle Callen flashes you a reassuring grin. "Anythin' else ye'd like to do, $callenChild?"<</if>> //Note from the author: There's currently nothing else available to do for this path, sorry!// [[That's all for now. Proceed to the arena.|Chap2Scene105b]]

The witch sniffs haughtily as you enter. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"She is half-correct, little one. Take heed of what you hear, but let it not consume your every waking thought, hm? My readings are only possible futures--visions borne of choice and consequence, not divine fate." She cackles, clipped and loud, the noise absorbed by the inky curtains that surround the two of you. "If any of the Twelve were to speak to //me//, I'd surely be somewhere else today, hm?"<<else>>"My readings are not prophecy, nor are they set-in-stone, little one. They are only possible futures--visions borne of choice and consequence, not divine fate." She cackles, clipped and loud, the noise absorbed by the inky curtains that surround the two of you. "If any of the Twelve were to speak to //me//, I'd surely be somewhere else today, hm?"<</if>> You don't really know what to say in response to her tirade, and just nod numbly. "Bah," she waves at you dismissively with her jingling hand, "take a seat, little one. Before we begin, I'd like to inform you of what will happen." You squeeze yourself into a simple wooden seat, sat across from Clori at the other end of the rectangular table. A set of odd tools are spread out before her, and she brushes her hands across them with an air of reverent caution. She looks down at the tools, peeking through a veil of her whitened hair, and smiles. "Have you ever had a reading before?" <<if $cold > 50>>You shake your head. "Mm-mm." "A $child of few words, are you?"<<else>>"No, not ever!" "Excited, are we?"<</if>> The witch laughs, picking up a long, thin tube. It sparkles with an odd texture in the light, and looks as if it was made of very dark, shiny bronze. "This is my burner. It will take a part of you and condense your //empira//, the sum of your being, into something I can look at--if only for a brief moment." //Intelligence...// <<if $intelligence >= 2>>//Success.// She's talking about the age-old Spirit Theorem, of course: the idea that each person is comprised of two halves. Their mortal body contains their base instincts and thought, while their ethereal spirit is comprised of memory and identity, which is created and strengthened by lived experience. When one dies, it is said that burning their body releases their //empira// into the Veil, where it then passes into the Heavens beyond. You nod along, understanding everything, which she looks at you appraisingly for.<<else>>//Failure.// You haven't a clue what this peculiar old witch is talking about, so you just pretend to understand and nod slowly. It has //something// to do with your spirit and body being separate things when you die, but you aren't very interested in reading about what goes on ... then. She doesn't seem convinced, but continues nonetheless.<</if>> "I'll need but a small part of you, so be not concerned--a lock of hair will suffice." With that, she picks up a tiny set of tweezers, and inches her hands towards your head. [[You lean back quickly, glaring at her. "Won't it hurt?" (Cautious +)|Chap2FortuneTeller9c1][$cautious to $cautious + 2]] [[You allow the touch. (Cautious -)|Chap2FortuneTeller9c2][$cautious to $cautious - 2]]

The witch sniffs haughtily as you enter. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"She is half-correct, little one. Take heed of what you hear, but let it not consume your every waking thought, hm? My readings are only possible futures--visions borne of choice and consequence, not divine fate." She cackles, clipped and loud, the noise absorbed by the inky curtains that surround the two of you. "If any of the Twelve were to speak to //me//, I'd surely be somewhere else today, hm?"<<else>>"My readings are not prophecy, nor are they set-in-stone, little one. They are only possible futures--visions borne of choice and consequence, not divine fate." She cackles, clipped and loud, the noise absorbed by the inky curtains that surround the two of you. "If any of the Twelve were to speak to //me//, I'd surely be somewhere else today, hm?"<</if>> You don't really know what to say in response to her tirade, and just nod numbly. "Bah," she waves at you dismissively with her jingling hand, "take a seat, little one. Before we begin, I'd like to inform you of what will happen." You squeeze yourself into a simple wooden seat, sat across from Clori at the other end of the rectangular table. A set of odd tools are spread out before her, and she brushes her hands across them with an air of reverent caution. She looks down at the tools, peeking through a veil of her whitened hair, and smiles. "Have you ever had a reading before?" <<if $cold > 50>>You shake your head. "Mm-mm." "A $child of few words, are you?"<<else>>"No, not ever!" "Excited, are we?"<</if>> The witch laughs, picking up a long, thin tube. It sparkles with an odd texture in the light, and looks as if it was made of very dark, shiny bronze. "This is my burner. It will take a part of you and condense your //empira//, the sum of your being, into something I can look at--if only for a brief moment." //Intelligence...// <<if $intelligence >= 2>>//Success.// She's talking about the age-old Spirit Theorem, of course: the idea that each person is comprised of two halves. Their mortal body contains their base instincts and thought, while their ethereal spirit is comprised of memory and identity, which is created and strengthened by lived experience. When one dies, it is said that burning their body releases their //empira// into the Veil, where it then passes into the Heavens beyond. You nod along, understanding everything, which she looks at you appraisingly for.<<else>>//Failure.// You haven't a clue what this peculiar old witch is talking about, so you just pretend to understand and nod slowly. It has //something// to do with your spirit and body being separate things when you die, but you aren't very interested in reading about what goes on ... then. She doesn't seem convinced, but continues nonetheless.<</if>> "I'll need but a small part of you, so be not concerned--a lock of hair will suffice." With that, she picks up a tiny set of tweezers, and inches her hands towards your head. [[You lean back quickly, glaring at her. "Won't it hurt?" (Cautious +)|Chap2FortuneTeller8b1][$cautious to $cautious + 2]] [[You allow the touch. (Cautious -)|Chap2FortuneTeller8b2][$cautious to $cautious - 2]]

Your panic grows, an invisible grip seizing at your throat and chest. "I--I don't..." She continues without registering your response, babbling frantically. "Wings! O, I see the shadow of wings on desert sand, hear the creak of iron beneath the scarlet corona. //Be not afeared of the blood-slick petals.// In your name. In the name of--" All too soon, she's thrown out of her stupor, and her eyes lock back into place, immediately kind and worried. "//Oh my//--is everything alright, dear? Did I frighten you?" You shake your head hurriedly, clasping your hands together to stop their incessant shaking, too stunned to answer honestly. <<if $honesty > 50>>"No, I'm a-alright." The lie is evident to her, but she says nothing more.<<else>>"No, I'm alright." Your lie seems to go undetected, and she smiles sweetly.<</if>> "Good, then. I truly am sorry, my dear. Some are more receptive to the readings than others, so it can often end up as little more than nonsense. Run on now, and call that <<if $mentor == "Callen">>lovely young lady in<<else>>handsome fellow in<</if>>, will you?<</if>>" [[Too shocked to hesitate, you scramble out of the chair.|Chap2FortuneTeller11b]]

You stumble through the curtains, which are even heavier than they look, and emerge to<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia's<<else>>Uncle Callen's<</if>> bemused expression. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"All good, $firstname?" Aunt Sonia looks you over as you approach her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."<<else>>"Y'look worried, $callenChild. Everythin' okay?" Uncle Callen frowns as you approach him.<</if>> For a moment you think that you'll be able to explain, in full, just what the witch said to you in her dazed stupor. It comes to be a fantastical notion, as you're only able to offer a fleeting summary. "Scary--she said lots of scary things." Endlessly frustrated with your own resistant mind, you <<if $volatile >= 50>>stomp the ground impotently<<else>>clench your fists, managing to contain your anger for the time being.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>He crouches, clutching your arm gently. "Whatever she said ain't the least bit set in stone, $callenChild. Remember these things're more performance than prediction." Even as he says this, a flash of conflict passes over his worried features. What he heard in there must have damaged his conviction.<<else>>She sighs, gently brushing a finger through your mussed hair. "Don't put any stock in the sayings of fortune tellers, $firstname. Listening to prophecy has never done anyone a lick of good in the end. Am I clear?" Even as she says this, she looks conflicted. What she heard in there must have damaged her conviction.<</if>> You nod quickly, almost too eager to accept the idea that none of what you heard was meaningful. How could it have been, when it was absolute gibberish to your ears? [[It must have just been a bad reading. They can happen, right?|Chap2FortuneTeller12b]] [[The notion that your fortune is to be the jumbled frenzy the witch described lingers in the back of your mind, dark and writhing.|Chap2FortuneTeller12b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, then," Aunt Sonia lets out a short breath, "I suppose it's my turn." <<if $soniaClose > 50>>"Do you have to?" You ask <<if $cautious > 50>>nervously, chewing the inside of your cheek in an anxious reflex.<<else>>with a sigh, not particularly wishing to be alone.<</if>> "It won't take long, $firstname," she sighs, slight exasperation bleeding into her tone though you know she means nothing by it, "she'll just tell me I'm amazing and then I'll be out, alright?" That makes you chuckle, and she flashes you a grin for a second. "There we go. Be good, kid," she says, and then she is gone, passing through the curtains which close behind her.<<else>>You let her go with little issue. Maybe being alone with your thoughts for a moment will help... "Be good, kid," she says, winking at you as she passes through the curtains, which close behind her.<</if>><<else>>"Alright then, $callenChild," Uncle Callen stands, smiling kindly at you. "Will ye be alright while I go in? I'll not be long." <<if $callenClose > 55>>You would prefer he stay, but he //has// already paid for the reading. You let him go, still looking disturbed.<<else>>You let him go with little issue. Maybe being alone with your thoughts for a moment will help...<</if>> "I won't be long, $callenChild," he repeats more strongly, patting your shoulder before passing through the curtains, which close behind him.<</if>> [[You are alone.|Chap2FortuneTeller13]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, then," Aunt Sonia lets out a tired breath, "I think that's enough fortunes for today. We're all done here. Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>"Well!" Uncle Callen booms, interrupting your thoughts. "I'd say it's high time the two o' us got ourselves out of this bleedin' dark tent and into somewhere more cheery, eh, $callenChild?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he bids goodbye to the witch, now having popped out of her curtained den. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, both of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEnd]]

The tent seems darker than before, and you slump to the slightly-hard ground, <<if $cold > 50>>hugging your knees to your chest and peering around the empty space.<<else>>kicking your legs out in a languid stretch, peering around the empty space.<</if>> It's hard to imagine why the witch said what she did, how she did. Fortune readings can be cryptic--often unnverving--but you've never heard of an experience such as that. You wonder if it's connected to the voice you first heard a couple of weeks ago, before you met Sam... [[Tentatively, you try speaking out to the voice. "...Are you watching me?" (Cautious +)|Chap2FortuneTeller14a][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [[Call the voice out. "I know you're watching me!" (Volatile +)|Chap2FortuneTeller14b][$volatile to $volatile + 1]] [[All of this is just ... overwhelming. You let loose tears of frustration.|Chap2FortuneTeller14c]] [[You just sit there, and try to forget what you heard, calming yourself.|Chap2FortuneTeller14d]]

Predictably, you receive no answer. You're glad there's nobody else to hear you, because that would have made you look //quite// mad. "I just want to hear you again," you explain. "Whoever you are, I don't care! I just--" you hesitate, wondering if the presence can feel offence. "I don't want you to watch me, or talk to me anymore." You sigh raggedly, hugging yourself tightly. "Nobody else has something like you, and you won't even let me tell anybody..." Your only answer is the muted bustle of the outside world, and the quiet thrum of your own heartbeat in your ears. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTeller15]]

Predictably, you receive no answer. You're glad there's nobody else to hear you, because that would have made you look //quite// mad. The kind of mad you aren't right now, which is just plain angry at this thing. "Thought as much," you mumble bitterly, crossing your arms. "You're scared of me, or something. I just want you to leave me //alone!//" You rasp furiously, taking care not to be too loud, but unwilling to mask your anger any longer. Your only answer is the muted bustle of the outside world, and the hammering thrum of your own heartbeat in your ears. [[Next|Chap2FortuneTeller15]]

Before you know it, you're quietly sniffling. All of this is too much to bear on your own. A droplet falls on the satiny surface of your clothing, and then another. You don't understand why this presence is watching //you//, why the strange things that are happening, are happening to //you//. None of this is fair... <<link "You wipe at your eyes furiously. You're a big $child, and big $child<nobr>s</nobr> //don't// cry.">> <<goto Chap2FortuneTeller15b>> <</link>> [[You let yourself cry until you're done. It's strangely cathartic...|Chap2FortuneTeller15c]]

Closing your eyes, you let the quiet bustle of the world outside drop to a mere hum, taking deep steadying breaths. It feels like an hour passes, although it has certainly been less time than that when <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> emerges from the curtains, looking perturbed. You open your eyes, blinking feverishly--even a small amount of light can be blinding when one's eyes have been closed, of course--and stand quickly, stepping over to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>her<<else>>him<</if>>. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You don't bother asking, you're sure you'll find out somehow.|Chap2FortuneTeller16b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia emerges from the curtain looking perturbed, and you quickly get up.<<else>>Uncle Callen emerges from the curtain looking perturbed, and you quickly get up.<</if>> <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You don't bother asking, you're sure you'll find out somehow.|Chap2FortuneTeller16b]]

By the time <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia emerges from the curtains looking perturbed<<else>>Uncle Callen emerges from the curtains looking perturbed<</if>>, you've dried your eyes with the only hint of your earlier tears being the odd drop on your clothing. Hopefully <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she<<else>>he<</if>> doesn't notice. You get up quickly, stepping over to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>her<<else>>him<</if>>. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You don't bother asking, you're sure you'll find out somehow.|Chap2FortuneTeller16b]]

By the time <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia emerges from the curtains looking perturbed<<else>>Uncle Callen emerges from the curtains looking perturbed<</if>>, you've dried your eyes, though they're slightly-irritated looking from your wiping. Hopefully <<if $mentor == "Callen">>she<<else>>he<</if>> doesn't notice. You get up quickly, stepping over to <<if $mentor == "Callen">>her<<else>>him<</if>>. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🦅+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🐺+ "What did she say?" You ask.|Chap2FortuneTeller16a][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<</if>> [[You don't bother asking, you're sure you'll find out somehow.|Chap2FortuneTeller16b]]

To your mild surprise, you are given no answer. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia must have heard something bad, with the way she's looking at you, not even offering some insight into what she heard from the witch. She looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, did she...? "Right," Aunt Sonia declares, interrupting your thoughts, "we've got more places to be, haven't we?" she nods coolly towards the witch, now having emerged from her den. "We're all done here. Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>Uncle Callen must have heard something bad, with the way he's trying not to look at you, not even offering some insight into what he heard from the witch. He looks strangely disturbed.. You wonder, did he...? "Well!" Uncle Callen booms, interrupting your thoughts. "I'd say it's high time the two o' us got ourselves out of this bleedin' dark tent and into somewhere more cheery, eh, $callenChild?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he bids goodbye to the witch, now having popped out of her curtained den. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, both of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEnd]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Well, the loss of a bit of my hair was //sorely// felt." She mutters sourly, brushing the short, still-growing remnants of her ordeal on the surface. "But, uh, I'll tell you once you're older, kid. We got a deal?" She looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, did she...? "Right," Aunt Sonia declares, interrupting your thoughts, "we've got more places to be, haven't we?" she nods coolly towards the witch, now having emerged from her den. "We're all done here. Thanks for your services, good witch. Cryptic as they might've been..."<<else>>"Tell ya once ye're grown up, $callenChild. Promise." He winks. Despite that, he looks strangely disturbed. You wonder, did he...? "Well!" Uncle Callen booms, interrupting your thoughts. "I'd say it's high time the two o' us got ourselves out of this bleedin' dark tent and into somewhere more cheery, eh, $callenChild?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he bids goodbye to the witch, now having popped out of her curtained den. "Many thanks for t'readings, Mind's Eye Clori. With //fate// on our side, I reckon we'll meet again, eh?" He smiles at his own joke, though she offers no response. He deflates some.<</if>> The witch smiles cordially. "Remember, both of you. Choice and consequence govern your futures, not a paltry hair-reading. Good day." [[With that encouraging message, you leave the fortune teller's tent.|Chap2FTEnd]]

<<if $ch2MalackRevenge == "yes">>You're only admitting the thoughts you had earlier, as uncomfortable as they make you. There's a small relief in getting it out there, as bad as the consequences may be.<<else>>Being here, seeing the true results of Ser Malack's ferociousness, has only served to make you wish it were him in this position. One day you'll be strong enough to take him down, and you'll ... find him.<</if>> Archer makes no visible reaction, but their gaze stays fixed on you. "What do you mean, $firstname?" "One day," you say, face twisting in muted anger, "I'll hurt Ser Malack just like this. I don't care how long it takes, I'll--" "You don't truly believe that," Archer says softly. "You are entitled to your anger, $firstname, but $mentor would not wish the burden of revenge on you. Not ever." <<if $volatile > 50>>You almost //vibrate// with indignance. "I'll be strong one day!" You shout, wishing to rise from your chair but finding your legs too weak to allow it, "And I'll make him regret it. I //will//."<<else>>You frown deeply, but keep your cool. "He hurt me too. I--I want him to feel that pain as well."<</if>> "Not. Ever." Archer repeats, looking at you imploringly. [[You scoff, looking off to the side. They don't get it, clearly.|Chap2Scene159a]] [[You hesitate. Is this truly what your mentor would want? You abandon the notion of revenge.|Chap2Scene159b][$ch2MalackRevenge to "no"]]

"In time, $firstname," Archer reassures, glancing at the door. "We will be out of here soon, with luck." "...What's going to happen afterwards?" You ask, conscious of the fact that both Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia might be kept from home for much of the day--this sort of thing won't just go away in a couple of hours. "I imagine there will be words to be had," Archer's eyes narrow. "I have already offered to take you <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>and Samuel<<else>><</if>>home, so worry not about being kept here." "Okay," you say numbly. This place feels stifling... After that, there is relative silence--save for the rushing of footsteps at the door. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[They're here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Aunt Sonia is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>>[[Uncle Callen is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<</if>><</if>>

<<if $ch2MalackRevenge == "yes">>You're only admitting the thoughts you had earlier, as uncomfortable as they make you. There's a small relief in getting the truth out there, even though $mentorThey can't hear it.<<else>>Being here, seeing the true results of Ser Malack's ferociousness, has only served to make you wish it were him in this position. One day you'll be strong enough to take him down, and you'll ... find him.<</if>> Archer glances at you from their chair, but their lack of reprimand shows they didn't hear you at all. You slump back in your chair, chest feeling tight with the weight of your solemn promise. After that, there is relative silence--save for the rushing of footsteps at the door. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[They're here.|Chap2Scene160][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]]<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Aunt Sonia is here.|Chap2Scene160][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]]<<else>>[[Uncle Callen is here.|Chap2Scene160][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]]<</if>><</if>>

For a long while there is nothing but relative silence--finally interrupted by the rushing of footsteps at the door. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[They're here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Aunt Sonia is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>>[[Uncle Callen is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<</if>><</if>>

Archer's sigh is all you hear next, and then utter silence--save for the rushing of footsteps at the door. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[They're here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Aunt Sonia is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>>[[Uncle Callen is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<</if>><</if>>

"...Okay," you say after a minute of silence, looking apologetically at $mentorTermChild. "I'm sorry. I won't think about it anymore." Archer smiles, nodding gratefully. "Thank you, $firstname. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>We don't need you //and// Sonia dearest swearing vengeance upon the man. I am certain he will be paid his dues soon.<<else>>I am certain the man will be paid his dues soon enough.<</if>>" After that, there is relative silence--save for the rushing of footsteps at the door. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[They're here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Aunt Sonia is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<<else>>[[Uncle Callen is here.|Chap2Scene160]]<</if>><</if>>

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"He said he wouldn't be hurt. <<if $callenClose < 50>>He //lied//." You scoff, sniffling at the same time.<<else>>He said that to me..." You murmur, sniffling.<</if>><<else>>"She said she'd be just fine. <<if $soniaClose < 50>>She //lied//." You scoff, sniffling at the same time.<<else>>She said that to me..." You murmur, sniffling.<</if>><</if>> Archer hesitates to speak, but eventually--after a few moments of stroking their chin--does. "None could have foreseen this, $firstname. Precious few knew that a man like Ser Malack would even be //allowed// a presence here, let alone fight. I can only imagine somebody thought it would make for more drama..." You look numbly at the floor. "That doesn't help..." "No, it doesn't," Archer agrees, sighing. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Your Uncle Callen thought only to reassure you, $firstname, as he always does. It would not have done for you to spend the day worrying about him, when you ought to have been enjoying your time at the festival. This is difficult for you, and I apologise on his behalf. I am sure he will do the same once he wakes, for he would //never// have wanted you to feel this way."<<else>>"Your Aunt Sonia thought only to assuage your fears, $firstname. It would not have done for you to spend the day worrying about her, when you ought to have been enjoying your time at the festival. She will have words for you once she wakes, I am sure, about conquering your fears, but I shall save those for her. None can emulate a good lecture from Sonia Wierszy," they smirk slightly at this, glancing over at Aunt Sonia. "I expect she'll try to hop right from that bed and show you that she's in fantastic spirits."<</if>> Archer's words are a small reassurance, but the fact remains that $mentorTermChild was hurt, and $mentorThey said $mentorThey wouldn't be. There will certainly be words had... Soon after, there is relative silence--save for the rushing of footsteps at the door. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[They're here.|Chap2Scene160][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]]<<else>><<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[Aunt Sonia is here.|Chap2Scene160][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]]<<else>>[[Uncle Callen is here.|Chap2Scene160][$ch2MalackRevenge to "yes"]]<</if>><</if>>

<div id="header-text">END OF DEMO</div> This is the current end of the demo! That SUCKS! It's not all bad, though. Bladeweaver is a work-in-progress, meaning there will be updates coming in the future. If you'd like, you can go back a step and save your game in the previous scene, that way you can continue from where this update left off when the next one releases. In the meantime, you can join the Bladeweaver Discord at https://discord.gg/bWGefvYFrF to stay in touch with news about the game and speak to other readers. You can also browse the Tumblr for more info on the game, world and characters. From there, you can also submit posts and ask me about the game over at https://www.tumblr.com/bladeweaver-if I hope you enjoyed reading!

Aunt Sonia stiffens as you bury your head in the crook of her neck, but eventually lifts an arm up to your back, patting softly and rubbing the slight bump of your spine, hunched as you are. She breaks the hug with a firmer pat, squeezing your shoulder as she stands up, looking solemn. "Has he woken up yet?" She asks, looking over at Archer. "He hasn't, and shan't for a while, I wager," the mage replies, smoothing back their hair. "The treatments were quite //potent//." "Mm," Aunt Sonia grunts, flexing her jaw for a second. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>She casts a glance to the still-open doorway, where Sam effectively hugs the frame, calling out, "You can come in, Sam. I reckon you'll be glad for a seat, hm?" The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Uncle Callen abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Miss Sonia," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. Her mouth thins in an approximation of a comforting smile, and she gently sits at the foot of Uncle Callen's bed, taking care not to jostle the man.<<else>>After a moment of standing in place, staring numbly at the bed, she shifts to sit down at its corner, taking care not to jostle Uncle Callen.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Not long now, $firstname," Aunt Sonia responds, grinding her palms into her eyes tiredly. "Believe me, we're all going to sleep well tonight," she laughs hollowly. ...You aren't too sure about that. "What kept you?" Archer asks, tone not entirely devoid of accusation. <<if $soniaClose > 50>>You might leap to Aunt Sonia's defense, but she has it handled.<<else>>Aunt Sonia's eyes narrow, but her response doesn't address their tone.<</if>> "Tell you the truth, I've been sat in on damned //meetings// most of the time." She glances at Archer, "lots of talking about absolutely nothing. They haven't even reached a decision on what to do with the bastard." "Sonia..." Archer grimaces, gesturing to you<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> and Sam.<<else>>.<</if>> "Oh, <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>they don't<<else>>$they doesn't<</if>> care about a bloody //mean word//, Arch," she fumes, "I ought to go and actually do someth--" "No." Archer sighs, chastising her like a child. "With any luck, a verdict will be reached with haste. Mayhaps they will..." They begin, cutting themself off. "What of the Order? Have your gracious superiors an opinion beyond bloodlust?" Aunt Sonia grunts. "Enota wants his head. We finally agree on something, at least..." she chuckles hollowly. "But the //esteemed// Empyrean Church officials think the more //religious// members of the Order wouldn't like that." Their exchanged words start go beyond what you're interested in<<if $ch2MalackRevenge == "yes">>, as much as knowing Ser Malack's fate would be useful right now. You have plenty of time to get back at him, one day...<<else>>. This is all too much.<</if>><<else>>"I'm sorry ye've been kept in here, $callenChild," Uncle Callen smiles thinly, clasping his big hands together. "This's no place for a child."<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>He glances at Sam after you. "How are ye holdin' together, lad?" "M'okay, Mister Callen," Sam near-whispers, chin nearly touching his collarbone, "just cold..." "We'll be back in the sun, soon enough," the man reassures, "but I reckon we'll be back before yer father gets home. Have ye a key?" Sam shakes his head, frowning. "He--he thought we'd be back late, but I told him I should have one anyway--but he doesn't trust me with one, an' I //always// tell him I should have one, but he never listens!" Uncle Callen raises his hands placatingly, "I understand, lad. Ye can stay on with us until he's back. Don't worry about a thing." Sam, now alight with emotion, deflates immediately. "Okay..." he murmurs quietly.<<else>> "It's //really// cold down here," you note, glancing around at the peculiar construction of the place. "Aye, these parts of the arena must've been built when Sola wasn't so ... risen. A pity the architects didn't consider how cold their arena'd be once it flew into the bleedin' air, eh?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>Despite things, you snicker. "Yeah, how careless!"<<else>>You chew your lip. He's trying to be funny, and now is not the time.<</if>> Archer interrupts, "Might I ask what kept you?" Their tone is not entirely devoid of accusation. <<if $callenClose > 50>>You want to leap to Uncle Callen's defense, but he seemingly has it handled.<<else>>Uncle Callen winces at the tone, unable to ignore it.<</if>> "I hadn't meant to stay so long, Archie. Tell ye the truth, I was in a meeting," he turns to Archer to address them as well, "to talk about what happened. They'll not let that man get away with a slap on the wrist, that's for damn certain." "With any luck, they'll..." Archer begins, cutting themself off with a grimace. "Has a decision been reached?" "Grandmaster Enota wanted him to, eh //face consequences//, but the Augurs present thought that'd go down poorly with Moro's followers in the Order," Uncle Callen grumbles, as their exchanged words go beyond what you're interested in<<if $ch2MalackRevenge == "yes">>, as much as knowing Ser Malack's fate would be useful right now. You have plenty of time to get back at him, one day...<<else>>. This is all too much.<</if>> Archer squeezes the arm of their seat, frowning. "They just had to nominate a //religious// warrior, didn't they? Honestly, I--"<</if>> [[They are interrupted by a groan to your left.|Chap2Scene163]]

She nods in apparent understanding. "Alright, $firstname," she whispers before standing. "Has he woken up yet?" She asks, looking over at Archer. "He hasn't, and shan't for a while, I wager," the mage replies, smoothing back their hair. "The treatments were quite //potent//." "Mm," Aunt Sonia grunts, flexing her jaw for a second. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>She casts a glance to the still-open doorway, where Sam effectively hugs the frame, calling out, "You can come in, Sam. I reckon you'll be glad for a seat, hm?" The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Uncle Callen abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Miss Sonia," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. Her mouth thins in an approximation of a comforting smile, and she gently sits at the foot of Uncle Callen's bed, taking care not to jostle the man.<<else>>After a moment of standing in place, staring numbly at the bed, she shifts to sit down at its corner, taking care not to jostle Uncle Callen.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

Surprised, Aunt Sonia actually chuckles, albeit sharply. "You try navigating that maze out there on your own, kid. Fools around here couldn't even point me in the right direction," she sighs, before standing. "Has he woken up yet?" She asks, looking over at Archer. "He hasn't, and shan't for a while, I wager," the mage replies, smoothing back their hair. "The treatments were quite //potent//." "Mm," Aunt Sonia grunts, flexing her jaw for a second. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>She casts a glance to the still-open doorway, where Sam effectively hugs the frame, calling out, "You can come in, Sam. I reckon you'll be glad for a seat, hm?" The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Uncle Callen abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Miss Sonia," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. Her mouth thins in an approximation of a comforting smile, and she gently sits at the foot of Uncle Callen's bed, taking care not to jostle the man.<<else>>After a moment of standing in place, staring numbly at the bed, she shifts to sit down at its corner, taking care not to jostle Uncle Callen.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

She frowns slightly, clenching the hand that had lain over yours. "I know this is hard, $firstname," she whispers before standing. "Has he woken up yet?" She asks, looking over at Archer. "He hasn't, and shan't for a while, I wager," the mage replies, smoothing back their hair. "The treatments were quite //potent//." "Mm," Aunt Sonia grunts, jaw flexing for a second. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>She casts a glance to the still-open doorway, where Sam effectively hugs the frame, calling out, "You can come in, Sam. I reckon you'll be glad for a seat, hm?" The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Uncle Callen abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Miss Sonia," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. Her mouth thins in an approximation of a comforting smile, and she gently sits at the foot of Uncle Callen's bed, taking care not to jostle the man.<<else>>After a moment of standing in place, staring numbly at the bed, she shifts to sit down at its corner, taking care not to jostle Uncle Callen.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">><<if $callenClose > 50>>"We needed you," you say sadly, squirming in your seat.<<else>>"I needed you," you say, squirming uncomfortably in your seat.<</if>> Aunt Sonia blinks and looks away, expression tight with something you don't understand. "...You did. I wasn't there, $firstname, and I ran off to chase something I wanted. That was low of me," she finally says, looking back at you unblinkingly. <<if $soniaClose > 50>>That's almost an apology, which is rare enough for her. You're too tired to argue, so you accept it.<<else>>That's almost an apology, but you're not surprised she won't even say 'sorry'. She hardly ever does.<</if>> "Tell you the truth, I've been sat in on damned //meetings// most of the time." She glances at Archer, "lots of talking about absolutely nothing. They haven't even reached a decision on what to do with the bastard." "Sonia..." Archer grimaces, gesturing to you<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> and Sam.<<else>>.<</if>> "Oh, <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>they don't<<else>>$they doesn't<</if>> care about a bloody //mean word//, Arch," she fumes, "I ought to go and actually do someth--" "No." Archer sighs, chastising her like a child. "With any luck, a verdict will be reached with haste. Mayhaps they will..." They begin, cutting themself off. "What of the Order? Have your gracious superiors an opinion beyond bloodlust?" Aunt Sonia grunts. "Enota wants his head. We finally agree on something, at least..." she chuckles hollowly. "But the Church representatives think the more //religious// members of the Order wouldn't like that." Their exchanged words start go beyond what you're interested in<<if $ch2MalackRevenge == "yes">>, as much as knowing Ser Malack's fate would be useful right now. You have plenty of time to get back at him, one day...<<else>>. This is all too much.<</if>><<else>><<if $soniaClose > 50>>"We needed you," you say sadly, squirming in your seat.<<else>>"I needed you," you say, squirming uncomfortably in your seat.<</if>> Uncle Callen looks as if he's about to speak, but swallows his words. "Oh, $firstname ... there's nothin' I can say. I left ye alone, runnin' off for nothin' at all." He leans forward, eyes steeled in determination. "I will not let it happen again, $callenChild. Y'have my word." <<if $callenClose > 50>>He's being entirely genuine, as you well know. Uncle Callen isn't a liar, and you take his declaration seriously.<<else>>He's being annoyingly genuine, of course. That still doesn't change the fact he was gone for //hours// while you were practically left alone with your thoughts--and Archer.<</if>> "As for where I was this whole time," he lets out a drawn-out sigh, "tell ye the truth, I was in a meeting," he turns to Archer to address them as well, "to talk about what happened. They'll not let that man get away with a slap on the wrist, $callenChild, that's for damn certain..." "With any luck, they'll..." Archer begins, cutting themself off with a grimace. "Has a decision been reached?" "Grandmaster Enota wanted him to stand trial, but the Augurs present thought that'd go down poorly with Moro's followers in the Order," Uncle Callen grumbles, as their exchanged words go beyond what you're interested in<<if $ch2MalackRevenge == "yes">>, as much as knowing Ser Malack's fate would be useful right now. You have plenty of time to get back at him, one day...<<else>>. This is all too much.<</if>> Archer squeezes the arm of their seat, frowning. "They just had to nominate a //religious// warrior, didn't they? Honestly, I--"<</if>> [[They are interrupted by a groan to your left.|Chap2Scene163]]

He smells a little bit like smoke, sweat and, oddly enough, heather--sweet and slightly musky. It isn't a smell you've focused on before, but you have little option but to acknowledge it like this, firmly in his embrace. Aunt Sonia must have picked out a perfume for him before she left. She'd certainly never admit it, but she's quite fastidious about smelling good. Her tough-and-gruff exterior is, at least partially, a mere front. You hope this isn't the last scent she chooses for him... <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>There's another noise at the door, and three pairs of eyes lock on to the sudden disturbance. Sam shuffles into view, practically hugging the frame with his eyes downcast. "Come on in, lad," Uncle Callen encourages him softly. "I hadn't meant to leave ye out." The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Aunt Sonia abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Mister Callen," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. The man leans over to pat the boy's knee comfortingly before he sits at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<<else>>Uncle Callen rubs a hand over his mouth before moving to sit at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

His fancy festival garb, now wrinkled and mostly untucked, is slightly scratchy against your forehead. It's a fine linen, woven using the latest machines in the city and bought at Aunt Sonia's recommendation. She helps buy all his--and your--clothes. She likes to do it, as much as she puts up a grumbling front when Uncle Callen asks for her help. ...You hope it isn't the last thing she picks out. Uncle Callen cups your face in one big hand--the one without a glove on--and moves back, crouching down. "I'm here now, $callenChild."<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> There's another noise at the door, and three pairs of eyes lock on to the sudden disturbance. Sam shuffles into view, practically hugging the frame with his eyes downcast. "Come on in, lad," Uncle Callen encourages him softly. "I hadn't meant to leave ye out." The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Aunt Sonia abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Mister Callen," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. The man leans over to pat the boy's knee comfortingly before he sits at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<<else>> He rubs a hand over his mouth before moving to sit at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

<<if $volatile > 50>>"It was just us. What if something happened?!"<<else>>"It was just us. What if--if something happened?"<</if>> You half-ask, half-accuse. He should have gotten here quicker. It's been //hours.//" Uncle Callen winces, looking chastised. "I ... I know, $callenChild. But I'm here now..." He brushes a loose strand of hair back, having peeked over the bandage around his head which Aunt Sonia wrapped for him this morning. It all seems so long ago... <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>There's another noise at the door, and three pairs of eyes lock on to the sudden disturbance. Sam shuffles into view, practically hugging the frame with his eyes downcast. "Come on in, lad," Uncle Callen encourages him softly. "I hadn't meant to leave ye out." The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Aunt Sonia abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Mister Callen," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. The man leans over to pat the boy's knee comfortingly before he sits at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<<else>> Incle Callen rubs a hand over his mouth before moving to sit at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

He blinks, but smiles sympathetically. "Alright, $callenChild..." Uncle Callen mutters softly, patting the arm of your chair. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>There's another noise at the door, and three pairs of eyes lock on to the sudden disturbance. Sam shuffles into view, practically hugging the frame with his eyes downcast. "Come on in, lad," Uncle Callen encourages him softly. "I hadn't meant to leave ye out." The boy, now wide-eyed at the sight of Aunt Sonia abed, shuffles forward slowly, giving you an uncharacteristically shy look before planting himself in a seat next to you. "Thanks, Mister Callen," he mumbles, staring down into his lap where he picks at his fingers. The man leans over to pat the boy's knee comfortingly before he sits at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<<else>>He rubs a hand over his mouth before moving to sit at the foot of Aunt Sonia's bed, taking care not to jostle its sleeping inhabitant.<</if>> [["When can we go home?" You ask.|Chap2Scene162]] [["Where have you been?"|Chap2Scene162b]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>You scramble around in your chair, facing the bed. Uncle Callen moves with a fatigued sluggishness, one bare arm--still with a glove on his right hand, funnily enough--moves slowly to wipe at his barely-open eyes. Aunt Sonia practically leaps off the bed, moving forward to stare down at him. The half-awake man takes a few stuttering gasps, groans again, then smiles weakly. "Did ye cut yer hair again, lass?" Aunt Sonia lets out a groan of her own, "You f--" she stops herself, growling. "You ever do this again, I'll finish the job myself. You //idiot//." You hadn't even noticed that her hand moved to clasp his own, her grip far stronger than his. "I'll ... keep that in mind, Sonia," Uncle Callen coughs, turning his head to look at you with great effort. "Now there's a sight fer sore eyes, and just about everythin' else..." [[🐺+ Fling yourself forward, scrambling into a hug.|Chap2Scene164Cala][$callenClose to $callenClose + 2]] [[🐺+ Clasp his hand, smiling weakly.|Chap2Scene164Calb][$callenClose to $callenClose + 2]] [[🐺+ You hesitate. You don't want to hurt him. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene164Calc][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1, $cautious to $cautious + 1]] <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>[[Tears prick at your eyes. "You promised..."|Chap2Scene164Cald]] [[🐺- You glare at him. "You promised!"|Chap2Scene164Cale][$callenClose to $callenClose - 2]]<<else>>//Choices unavailable.//<</if>> [[You're rooted to the spot. Words escape you.|Chap2Scene164Calf]]<<else>>You scramble around in your chair, facing the bed. Aunt Sonia just blinks for a moment, glaring up at the drab ceiling before letting out another low groan of half-lucid pain. Her fingers move first, and then her whole arm lifts to rub at her face. A bandage covers her wrist, but you didn't remember her being hurt there. Uncle Callen quickly gets up, staring at her as if she could combust at any moment. "//Sonia?//" She takes a stuttering breath, and the ghost of a smirk appears on her sallow face. "Last ... I checked..." She jokes groggily. Archer, now at the foot of her bed with their hands clasped behind their back, tuts. "If there were any doubts as to your condition, let that be what dashes them. Welcome back to the waking world, Sonia dearest." "Love you too, Arch," she chuckles, though it sounds more like a weak cough. She turns her head slowly towards you. "Hello, you," her dull green eyes glint, "that was a bit embarrassing, wasn't it?" [[🦅+ Fling yourself forward, scrambling into a hug.|Chap2Scene164Sona][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 2]] [[🦅+ Clasp her hand, smiling weakly.|Chap2Scene164Sonb][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 2]] [[🦅+ You hesitate. You don't want to hurt her. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene164Sonc][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $cautious to $cautious + 1]] <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>[[Tears prick at your eyes. "You promised..."|Chap2Scene164Sond]] [[🦅- You glare at her. "You promised!"|Chap2Scene164Sone][$soniaClose to $soniaClose - 2]]<<else>>//Choices unavailable.//<</if>> [[You're rooted to the spot. Words escape you.|Chap2Scene164Sonf]]<</if>>

She lets out a pained grunt, but grins as fiercely as her fatigue will allow. Uncle Callen gently lifts you off, but not before she pats your back weakly. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> Aunt Sonia glances over at Sam. "I reckon you didn't think you'd end up down here, did you? I'll forgive you if you aren't as scared of me after that." "Um, that's okay, Miss Sonia," the boy smiles shakily. "I can try?" "Hmph," she snorts.<<else>><</if>> "Are you ... alright?" You ask hesitantly. She's more bandage than person right now, but she seems almost chipper. Aunt Sonia shuffles up into an almost-sitting position, using her elbows to push herself up. "What, do I look //hurt//?" She asks glibly. When you don't respond, her face hardens. "...I'll stop this now, $firstname. Archer?" The mage glides towards the opposite side of her bed. "The situation was quite dire, Sonia." "Understatement of the bleedin' year..." Uncle Callen grumbles, arms crossed. They continue, "I will elaborate further once you are more cognizant, but do not expect to be walking for at least a week, even with the best healing available. You are //quite// sedated, thus your pain shan't be apparent." Aunt Sonia smirks airily, letting her head drop back onto her pillow while blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "I thought I felt light. Feels ... odd to breathe, too." "Yer chest needs time to heal, lass," Uncle Callen says firmly. "That means nothin' strenuous. I'll be yer custodian for a long while, it's lookin' like." She looks sourly down at her blanket. "There's no need to rub it in, Cal, I already lost the biggest duel of my career..." "The biggest duel //so far//," Archer corrects her, "one loss is hardly the end, Sonia dearest." She chuckles. "Things must have been dicey if you're bigging me up." [[They shrug. "You looked as if you could use it."|Chap2Scene165]]

Aunt Sonia's grip is somehow weaker than your own, and her hand is clammy. But it's warm. That is what matters. She gives a squeeze before you retract your hand with a relieved smile.<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Then, she glances at Sam. "I reckon you didn't think you'd end up down here, did you? I'll forgive you if you aren't as scared of me after that." "Um, that's okay, Miss Sonia," the boy smiles shakily. "I can try?" "Hmph," she snorts.<<else>><</if>> "Are you ... alright?" You ask hesitantly. She's more bandage than person right now, but she seems almost chipper. Aunt Sonia shuffles up into an almost-sitting position, using her elbows to push herself up. "What, do I look //hurt//?" She asks glibly. When you don't respond, her face hardens. "...I'll stop this now, $firstname. Archer?" The mage glides towards the opposite side of her bed. "The situation was quite dire, Sonia." "Understatement of the bleedin' year..." Uncle Callen grumbles, arms crossed. They continue, "I will elaborate further once you are more cognizant, but do not expect to be walking for at least a week, even with the best healing available. You are //quite// sedated, thus your pain shan't be apparent." Aunt Sonia smirks airily, letting her head drop back onto her pillow while blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "I thought I felt light. Feels ... odd to breathe, too." "Yer chest needs time to heal, lass," Uncle Callen says firmly. "That means nothin' strenuous. I'll be yer custodian for a long while, it's lookin' like." She looks sourly down at her blanket. "There's no need to rub it in, Cal, I already lost the biggest duel of my career..." "The biggest duel //so far//," Archer corrects her, "one loss is hardly the end, Sonia dearest." She chuckles. "Things must have been dicey if you're bigging me up." [[They shrug. "You looked as if you could use it."|Chap2Scene165]]

She smiles sadly at the wariness in your eyes. "I'm not made of glass, $firstname." "What if--if you get hurt more, though?" You say, mouth twisted into a nervous frown. "Do as you like, but I want you to know I'm alive and well. Take more than that to--" She is interrupted by a deep cough, one that makes her, and everyone else, wince. "I think I'll stop testing fate now," she says with a quiet laugh.<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Then, she glances at Sam. "I reckon you didn't think you'd end up down here, did you? I'll forgive you if you aren't as scared of me after that." "Um, that's okay, Miss Sonia," the boy smiles shakily. "I can try?" "Hmph," she snorts.<<else>><</if>> "How hurt //are// you?" You ask hesitantly. She's more bandage than person right now, but she seems almost chipper. Aunt Sonia shuffles up into an almost-sitting position, using her elbows to push herself up. "You think I look hurt?" She asks glibly. When you don't respond, her face hardens. "...I'll stop this now, $firstname. Archer?" The mage glides towards the opposite side of her bed. "The situation was quite dire, Sonia." "Understatement of the bleedin' year..." Uncle Callen grumbles, arms crossed. They continue, "I will elaborate further once you are more cognizant, but do not expect to be walking for at least a week, even with the best healing available. You are //quite// sedated, thus your pain shan't be apparent." Aunt Sonia smirks airily, letting her head drop back onto her pillow while blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "I thought I felt light. Feels ... odd to breathe, too." "Yer chest needs time to heal, lass," Uncle Callen says firmly. "That means nothin' strenuous. I'll be yer custodian for a long while, it's lookin' like." She looks sourly down at her blanket. "There's no need to rub it in, Cal, I already lost the biggest duel of my career..." "The biggest duel //so far//," Archer corrects her, "one loss is hardly the end, Sonia dearest." She chuckles. "Things must have been dicey if you're bigging me up." [[They shrug. "You looked as if you could use it."|Chap2Scene165]]

Her hand clenches, and she looks away for a moment. "I did, didn't I?" "She couldn't have known that would happen, $callenChild..." Uncle Callen says gently, patting Aunt Sonia's blanket-covered leg. You sniff and wipe at your eyes with a sleeve. "Then why did you promise?" You ask, hurt beyond hurting by what's happened. She could have ended the fight quickly. She //chose// to gloat, and paid for it. And so have you; what you saw... Aunt Sonia looks genuinely disappointed in herself, a rare departure from whom that look would usually be cast towards--though only during training. "I was arrogant, $firstname. I know you''ll be better than me, and //never// do something like that. There's a lesson to be learned here about hubris, I suppose..." "One I am sure you will take to heart," Archer mutters. She ignores them. "I won't make promises I can't keep any more, $firstname. You have my word."<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> Then, she glances at Sam. "I reckon you didn't think you'd end up down here, did you? I'll forgive you if you aren't as scared of me after that." "Um, that's okay, Miss Sonia," the boy smiles shakily. "I can try?" "Hmph," she snorts.<<else>> That's another promise. You're unsure if she can keep this one, too.<</if>> "Are you ... hurt?" You ask hesitantly. She's more bandage than person right now, but she seems almost chipper. Aunt Sonia shuffles up into an almost-sitting position, using her elbows to push herself up. "I look hurt?" She asks glibly. When you don't respond, her face hardens. "...I'll stop this now, $firstname. Archer?" The mage glides towards the opposite side of her bed. "The situation was quite dire, Sonia." "Understatement of the bleedin' year..." Uncle Callen grumbles, arms crossed. They continue, "I will elaborate further once you are more cognizant, but do not expect to be walking for at least a week, even with the best healing available. You are //quite// sedated, thus your pain shan't be apparent." Aunt Sonia smirks airily, letting her head drop back onto her pillow while blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "I thought I felt light. Feels ... odd to breathe, too." "Yer chest needs time to heal, lass," Uncle Callen says firmly. "That means nothin' strenuous. I'll be yer custodian for a long while, it's lookin' like." She looks sourly down at her blanket. "There's no need to rub it in, Cal, I already lost the biggest duel of my career..." "The biggest duel //so far//," Archer corrects her, "one loss is hardly the end, Sonia dearest." She chuckles. "Things must have been dicey if you're bigging me up." [[They shrug. "You looked as if you could use it."|Chap2Scene165]]

She looks stricken by your outburst, blinking confusedly at you. It's almost like she isn't entirely there, and a part of you feels even more angered that she can't properly understand how you feel. "I did..." "She couldn't have known that would happen, $callenChild..." Uncle Callen says gently, patting Aunt Sonia's blanket-covered leg. "Then--then why //promise//?!" You half-yell, hurt beyond hurting by what's happened. She could have ended the fight quickly. She //chose// to gloat, and paid for it. And so have you; what you saw... Aunt Sonia looks genuinely disappointed in herself, a rare departure from whom that look would usually be cast towards--though only during training. "I was arrogant, $firstname. You will be better than me, and //never// do something like that. There's a lesson to be learned here about hubris, I suppose..." "One I am sure you will take to heart," Archer mutters. She ignores them. "I won't make promises I can't keep any more, $firstname. You have my word."<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> Then, she glances at Sam. "I reckon you didn't think you'd end up down here, did you? I'll forgive you if you aren't as scared of me after that." "Um, that's okay, Miss Sonia," the boy smiles shakily. "I can try?" "Hmph," she snorts.<<else>> That's another promise. You're unsure if she can keep this one, too.<</if>> "Are you ... hurt?" You ask hesitantly. She's more bandage than person right now, but she seems almost chipper. Aunt Sonia shuffles up into an almost-sitting position, using her elbows to push herself up. "I look hurt?" She asks glibly. When you don't respond, her face hardens. "...I'll stop this now, $firstname. Archer?" The mage glides towards the opposite side of her bed. "The situation was quite dire, Sonia." "Understatement of the bleedin' year..." Uncle Callen grumbles, arms crossed. They continue, "I will elaborate further once you are more cognizant, but do not expect to be walking for at least a week, even with the best healing available. You are //quite// sedated, thus your pain shan't be apparent." Aunt Sonia smirks airily, letting her head drop back onto her pillow while blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "I thought I felt light. Feels ... odd to breathe, too." "Yer chest needs time to heal, lass," Uncle Callen says firmly. "That means nothin' strenuous. I'll be yer custodian for a long while, it's lookin' like." She looks sourly down at her blanket. "There's no need to rub it in, Cal, I already lost the biggest duel of my career..." "The biggest duel //so far//," Archer corrects her, "one loss is hardly the end, Sonia dearest." She chuckles. "Things must have been dicey if you're bigging me up." [[They shrug. "You looked as if you could use it."|Chap2Scene165]]

Her expression shifts, and she sighs. "I'm alive and well, $firstname." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>She glances at Sam. "I reckon you didn't think you'd end up down here, did you? I'll forgive you if you aren't as scared of me after that." "Um, that's okay, Miss Sonia," the boy smiles shakily. "I can try?" "Hmph," she snorts.<<else>><</if>> "Are you ... hurt?" You ask hesitantly. She's more bandage than person right now, but she seems almost chipper. Aunt Sonia shuffles up into an almost-sitting position, using her elbows to push herself up. "I look hurt?" She asks glibly. When you don't respond, her face hardens. "...I'll stop this now, $firstname. Archer?" The mage glides towards the opposite side of her bed. "The situation was quite dire, Sonia." "Understatement of the bleedin' year..." Uncle Callen grumbles, arms crossed. They continue, "I will elaborate further once you are more cognizant, but do not expect to be walking for at least a week, even with the best healing available. You are //quite// sedated, thus your pain shan't be apparent." Aunt Sonia smirks airily, letting her head drop back onto her pillow while blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "I thought I felt light. Feels ... odd to breathe, too." "Yer chest needs time to heal, lass," Uncle Callen says firmly. "That means nothin' strenuous. I'll be yer custodian for a long while, it's lookin' like." She looks sourly down at her blanket. "There's no need to rub it in, Cal, I already lost the biggest duel of my career..." "The biggest duel //so far//," Archer corrects her, "one loss is hardly the end, Sonia dearest." She chuckles. "Things must have been dicey if you're bigging me up." [[They shrug. "You looked as if you could use it."|Chap2Scene165]]

<<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"And what of my opponent?" Aunt Sonia spits the term out like it was hurting her tongue. Archer glances over at you<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> and Sam.<<else>>.<</if>> "He ... faces judgement now. Arena guards spotted him attempting a //departure//, and last I heard, there is a standoff between his cohort and the Order within the arena. High tensions, vows of revenge, that sort of thing..." She blinks, wide-eyed. "I knew they liked me, deep down..." "Mess with one o' us..." Uncle Callen makes a leading gesture with his hand that practically says //you know the rest//.<<else>>"Well, you'll be happy to know there's plenty of bed rest in your future, Cal." Aunt Sonia smiles wryly, but looks somewhat guilty afterwards. "You took a blow to the lung, and the impact of the strike shattered some of your ribs." "It will be weeks, at the very least, until you are even close to being considered for active duty once more," Archer adds. <<if $callenClose > 50>>Part of you rejoices at the opportunity to have more time home with him.<<else>><</if>> "That long, eh?" Uncle Callen blinks tiredly. "If nothin' else can be done, I suppose I'll have to accept a future o' bein' waited on..." "If the hit had been cleaner you wouldn't have needed all this," Aunt Sonia throws her arms out, "but it wasn't. Couple that with--well--your age..." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Sam stifles his first giggle in a long time,<<else>>You stifle a giggle that came unbidden,<</if>> while Uncle Callen hums contemplatively. "There're old Weavers, an' there're bold Weavers. Nobody's ever been both. I can see why that sayin's so popular now..." "Cheer up," Aunt Sonia encourages him, throwing her shoulders back and practically puffing out her chest in an attempt to retain some of her vigour. "You can rest easy knowing you'll have justice sooner rather than later." "Justice, revenge, it's all nothin'. Ye know that, lass..." Uncle Callen mumbles, though whether it's from his medicine or exasperation with her, you're not quite sure. Aunt Sonia shrugs, looking chastised. "Still, //I'd// recover better knowing the one who hurt me wasn't having an easy go of things." "On the topic of what is to //happen// to Ser Malack," Archer clears their throat, "He faces judgement now. Arena guards spotted him attempting a //departure//, and last I heard, there is a standoff between his cohort and the Order within the arena. High tensions, vows of revenge, that sort of thing..." Uncle Callen sighs raggedly. "They'll only cause more damned hurt in the end..." "It can't be avoided, Cal," Aunt Sonia mutters. "He nearly..." She stops herself, clawing at her shirt's sleeve.<</if>> "As for the results of the fight itself, you'll be happy to learn this," Archer waits a beat, very unhelpfully. "You have been ruled the victor via disqualification. Ser Malack's strike was judged to be both intentional and against the rules of the bout, if there were any such doubts..." <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Oh, I'm feelin' much better..." Uncle Callen murmurs. "I feel the light o' bureaucratic decision-makin' fillin' my eyes..." Aunt Sonia frowns. "Callen, //do not// talk about light filling your eyes." "I'm seein' the Veil now, lass..." She delivers a swift kick to one of the bed's legs, hardly moving it but shutting the man up all the same.<<else>>"Any chance at a rematch later?" The mage fixes her with a hard stare. "No." "Nobody lets me have any fun." "I am sure the monetary prize will alleviate some of your sadness." Aunt Sonia's eyes widen. "You know, I'm inclined to agree, Archer."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene166]]

Uncle Callen makes no sound as you collide with him, merely sliding an arm over you and weakly patting your back as you cling to his clammy neck. You're only separated from him when Aunt Sonia pulls you away gently. "He's just woken up, $firstname," she admonishes you, albeit more gently than usual. There's a tired, defeated edge to her tone. Perhaps her anger is just beginning to wilt. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Sam shifts in his seat, drawing Uncle Callen's attention. "Oh, lad," he murmurs apologetically, "you an' $firstname should be ... enjoyin' what's out there, not watchin' after me..." "Huh?!" Sam shakes his head strongly. "I'd feel bad!" "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<<else>>"Ye ought to be out there, $callenChild," Uncle Callen murmurs softly, "enjoyin' what's outside, not watchin' after me..." <<if $callenClose > 50>><<if $volatile > 50>>"What?!" You exclaim. "We all need to be //here!//"<<else>>"But--" You stammer, confused by why he'd even say that, "you're ... hurt. We should all be here...<</if>> He chuckles quietly. "How'd I raise such a kind $callenChild...?"<<else>>If Aunt Sonia wouldn't have you cleaning the house until you were of age, just for entertaining the idea, you might agree...<</if>> "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<</if>> "Well, I'll be the one t'start the nasty part. Just what happened? I can 'ardly remember..." He admits sheepishly. [[Next|Chap2Scene165]]

Uncle Callen's reddened grey eyes crease. "Someone cast a suspendin' spell on ye, $callenChild?" "What if--if you get hurt more, though?" You say, mouth twisted into a nervous frown. He coughs, shaking his head softly. "There ain't nothin' ye could do that'd make me worse off, $callenChild." He pats his own chest--albeit lightly--and grins through his now-scraggly beard. "See?" <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>His attention is suddenly drawn to Sam when the boy shuffles around in his seat. "Oh, lad," he murmurs apologetically, "you an' $firstname should be ... enjoyin' what's out there, not watchin' after me..." "Huh?!" Sam shakes his head strongly. "I'd feel bad!" "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<<else>> "I've been here with the $child for hours, at this point. $theyF hasn't left your side," Archer informs the grimacing man. "Ye ought to be out there, $callenChild," Uncle Callen murmurs softly, "enjoyin' what's outside, not watchin' after me..." <<if $callenClose > 50>><<if $volatile > 50>>"What?!" You exclaim. "We all need to be //here!//"<<else>>"But--" You stammer, confused by why he'd even say that, "you're ... hurt. We should all be here...<</if>> He chuckles quietly. "How'd I raise such a kind $callenChild...?"<<else>>If Aunt Sonia wouldn't have you cleaning the house until you were of age, just for entertaining the idea, you might agree...<</if>> "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<</if>> "Well, I'll be the one t'start the nasty part. Just what happened? I can 'ardly remember..." He admits sheepishly. [[Next|Chap2Scene165]]

His hand completely engulfs your own, but its grip is weak, and the contact is made less heartening by the glove that covers it. Uncle Callen also seems to notice this and, with great effort, shifts his other arm--grimacing in pain all the while--to clutch your little hand with his ungloved one. "That's better, $callenChild," he beams through the pain. "Callen, $they could've put up with the glove," Aunt Sonia admonishes him quietly. "You really don't need to be moving around //now//." There's a tired, defeated edge to her tone, despite her sternness. Perhaps her anger is just beginning to wilt. "Aye, but $they'll never have to 'put up' with anythin', long as I breathe," he responds with conviction, squeezing your hand before his grip loosens completely. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>His attention is drawn to Sam when the boy shuffles around in his seat. "Oh, lad," he murmurs apologetically, "you an' $firstname should be ... enjoyin' what's out there, not watchin' after me..." "Huh?!" Sam shakes his head strongly. "I'd feel bad!" "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<<else>>"Ye ought to be out there, $callenChild," Uncle Callen murmurs softly, "enjoyin' what's outside, not watchin' after me..." <<if $callenClose > 50>><<if $volatile > 50>>"What?!" You exclaim. "We all need to be //here!//"<<else>>"But--" You stammer, confused by why he'd even say that, "you're ... hurt. We should all be here...<</if>> He chuckles quietly. "How'd I raise such a kind $callenChild...?"<<else>>If Aunt Sonia wouldn't have you cleaning the house until you were of age, just for entertaining the idea, you might agree...<</if>> "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<</if>> "Well, I'll be the one t'start the nasty part. Just what happened? I can 'ardly remember..." He admits sheepishly. [[Next|Chap2Scene165]]

He looks confused for a moment before the realisation passes over his pained features like a storm. "Oh, $callenChild, I'm so so sorry..." With the limited motion his condition provides, he still manages to stroke your cheek, wiping at an errant tear with a gloved thumb. "Nothin' would've prepared me for what I fought in there. If I'd known there was a chance o' danger, I'd not have said a thing." Aunt Sonia stares silently at the ground, arms crossed. "He had you pinned, Cal. Didn't seem to like you much, either." "Well, that's partly me own fault," he chuckles cautiously, "I've still some o' my boyhood spirit in me, I wager. I don't think I was helpin' matters..." "Ser Malack, //infant// that he is, broke the rules. He will face consequences," Archer coldly replies. "Ain't important now..." Uncle Callen mutters weakly, letting his head fall against his pillow. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>His attention is suddenly drawn to Sam when the boy shuffles around in his seat. "Oh, lad," he murmurs apologetically, "you an' $firstname should be ... enjoyin' what's out there, not watchin' after me..." "Huh?!" Sam shakes his head strongly. "I'd feel bad!" "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<<else>>"Ye ought to be out there, $callenChild," he murmurs softly, "enjoyin' what's outside, not watchin' after me..." <<if $callenClose > 50>><<if $volatile > 50>>"What?!" You exclaim. "We all need to be //here!//"<<else>>"But--" You stammer, confused by why he'd even say that, "you're ... hurt. We should all be here...<</if>> He chuckles quietly. "How'd I raise such a kind $callenChild...?"<<else>>If Aunt Sonia wouldn't have you cleaning the house until you were of age, just for entertaining the idea, you might agree...<</if>> "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<</if>> "Well, I'll be the one t'start the nasty part. Just what happened? I can 'ardly remember..." He admits sheepishly. [[Next|Chap2Scene165]]

Uncle Callen looks more pained than if you'd stricken at his near-fresh wound. "//$firstname,//" Aunt Sonia responds sharply, shooting you a cool look. "Watch your tone." "No, lass, it's..." He sighs, "I went an' let you down, didn't I?" He says, looking at you pleadingly, disappointment at himself etched in every line on his face. <<if $volatile > 50>>"//Yes,//" you say emphatically, "You made a--a promise!"<<else>>Some of your anger has already left you, but you manage to waveringly say: "You ... you made a //promise//."<</if>> Uncle Callen nods, "An' they're an important thing to be kept, $callenChild ... I'll not make a promise that can't be kept for sure again. If ye'll believe it, ye have my word." He smiles uncertainly. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> <<if $callenClose > 50>>You'd like to believe him, you really //really// would. But only time will tell...<<else>>Only time will tell, it seems.<</if>> His attention is suddenly drawn to Sam when the boy shuffles around in his seat. "Oh, lad," he murmurs apologetically, "you an' $firstname should be ... enjoyin' what's out there, not watchin' after me..." "Huh?!" Sam shakes his head strongly. "I'd feel bad!" "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<<else>> <<if $callenClose > 50>>You'd like to believe him, you really //really// would. But only time will tell...<<else>>Only time will tell, it seems.<</if>> "Ye ought to be out there, $callenChild," he murmurs softly, "enjoyin' what's outside, not watchin' after me..." <<if $callenClose > 50>><<if $volatile > 50>>"What?!" You exclaim. "We all need to be //here!//"<<else>>"But--" You stammer, confused by why he'd even say that, "you're ... hurt. We should all be here...<</if>> He chuckles quietly. "How'd I raise such a kind $callenChild...?"<<else>>If Aunt Sonia wouldn't have you cleaning the house until you were of age, just for entertaining the idea, you might agree...<</if>> "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<</if>> "Well, I'll be the one t'start the nasty part. Just what happened? I can 'ardly remember..." He admits sheepishly. [[Next|Chap2Scene165]]

Uncle Callen smiles patiently and gives you a sympathetic look. "I'll mend, $callenChild." His attention is drawn to Sam when the boy shuffles around in his seat. "Oh, lad," he murmurs apologetically, "you an' $firstname should be ... enjoyin' what's out there, not watchin' after me..." "Huh?!" Sam shakes his head strongly. "I'd feel bad!" "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<<else>>"Ye ought to be out there, $callenChild," Uncle Callen murmurs softly, "enjoyin' what's outside, not watchin' after me..." <<if $callenClose > 50>><<if $volatile > 50>>"What?!" You exclaim. "We all need to be //here!//"<<else>>"But--" You stammer, confused by why he'd even say that, "you're ... hurt. We should all be here...<</if>> He chuckles quietly. "How'd I raise such a kind $callenChild...?"<<else>>If Aunt Sonia wouldn't have you cleaning the house until you were of age, just for entertaining the idea, you might agree...<</if>> "It's chaos out there, Callen," Aunt Sonia mutters, though not quietly enough to avoid you overhearing. "If ever you doubted your popularity, you've got an answer now... The man blinks a few times, staring up at the ceiling with dark-rimmed eyes.<</if>> "Well, I'll be the one t'start the nasty part. Just what happened? I can 'ardly remember..." He admits sheepishly. [[Next|Chap2Scene165]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Right," Aunt Sonia declares an end to the conversation. "All of this //discussion/ is going to last long into the night, so we need to get <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>the children home<<else>>$firstname home.<</if>> Archer, can I trust you to handle things until Callen and I are back?" The mage looks shrewdly at you for a moment. "It may well be the greatest challenge of my professional career, but I have faith in the <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>three of us.<<else>>two of us.<</if>>"<<else>>"Well," Uncle Callen brings everybody's focus back to him. "I'd say it's high time <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>$firstname an' Sam got back home.<<else>>$firstname got back home.<</if>> Archie, would ye..." "Hmph," the mage crosses their arms, looking shrewdly at you for a moment. "It may well be the greatest challenge of my professional career, but I have faith in the <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>three of us.<<else>>two of us.<</if>>"<</if>><<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> "We're goin' home?" Sam asks hopefully. "Have you a key to your home?" Archer asks the boy, who freezes up. "Oh. I ... I don't..." "Mm, no matter. I will have a letter sent to the temple for your father, and let him know of your whereabouts for when he returns." Sam stares at the mage with wide eyes. "You can do lots of stuff, Archer..." "Some would call me the premier 'stuff-doer' of my guild, my boy. Shall we prepare for our departure, then?"<<else>> They smile lightly. "Mayhaps we will make a stop at a food stall on the way home. I hear the Abrian food they serve is something //approaching// authentic. Shall we, $firstname?"<</if>> [[Truth be told, you're happy to get home after all of this. You'll say your goodbyes and go, as much as you're shaken up.|Chap2Scene167a]] [["But--I want to stay here..." You mutter sadly. (Volatile -)|Chap2Scene167b][$volatile to $volatile - 2]] [["No, I'm staying here!" You huff. (Volatile +)|Chap2Scene167c][$volatile to $volatile + 2]] [[🐺🦅+ Leaving your guardians is the last thing you want to do right now.|Chap2Scene167d][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1, $callenClose to $callenClose + 1]] <<if $mentor == "Callen">>[[🐺+ Leaving Uncle Callen is the last thing you want to do right now.|Chap2Scene167e][$callenClose to $callenClose + 1]]<<else>>[[🦅+ Leaving Aunt Sonia is the last thing you want to do right now.|Chap2Scene167f][$soniaClose to $soniaClose + 1]]<</if>>

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Uncle Callen grips your hand again as you say your goodbyes. "Keep Archer from tearin' the house up, eh, $callenChild?" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"I'll try," you snicker quietly. "Good $callenChild," he smiles, letting you go.<<else>>You give him a tired look. "That won't happen..." "Not with our miniature security around, no!" He chuckles quietly. "Bye, Uncle Callen." "'Til next time, $firstname," he grins through his scruffy beard.<</if>><<else>>Aunt Sonia gestures for you to lean down, close enough for her to press her forehead against yours. "Don't take any shit from Archer, you hear me? I won't be able to get them back for a few weeks, so you're on your own, kid." <<if $cautious < 50>>"I'll handle them!" You say seriously. "Hmph," she chuckles shortly. "Hard to believe you're not my blood. Off you go, now. I'll see you soon."<<else>>"I--I'll try?" You say awkwardly. If Archer decides they want to annoy somebody, they usually end up getting what they want. She snorts quietly. "I'm sure you will, $firstname.<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> I'm sure you and Sam can raise enough hell for them between the two of you. Get creative.<<else>><</if>> Right, now. Off you go before I start asking you to stay."<</if>><</if>> <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going, children?"<<else>>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene168]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia sighs softly, and crouches--not without effort--while placing her hand on your shoulder. "It would make both of us feel better if you were safe at home, $firstname." She says with more firmness than her words imply; she is //not// asking. You look to Uncle Callen for support, but the bed-bound man gives you a sympathetic look. "I know it's difficult, $callenChild, goin' away while I'm like this, but yer Aunt Sonia's right ... Nothin' would make me feel better now than knowin' ye were out of this nasty place. Can ye ... do that for us?" He says amidst laboured breaths. "...Fine." You certainly don't like it, but if it will make him feel better, then you have to do it.<<else>>Uncle Callen smiles thinly in sympathy. and pats your shoulder softly. "Both me an' yer Aunt Sonia would rather ye were safe an' happy at home, $callenChild. This ain't a place for <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>children<<else>>a child.<</if>>" You look to Aunt Sonia for support, but her mind already seems made. "I'd fling myself out of this bed and savage the one who let anything happen to you in this place, $firstname. I'd prefer not to do that at the minute, so could you save me the trouble, please?" Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. When was the last time she said //that//?! "...Fine." You'd rather stay, but you'd much rather not cause Aunt Sonia any more stress.<</if>> <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going, children?"<<else>>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene168]]

<<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia blinks, putting on a stern expression at your outburst, and crouches--not without effort--while looking you directly in the eyes. "This is no request, $firstname. We want you home, both of us. We aren't punishing you, or pushing you away. Having you somewhere safe is all we want." She says with her usual firmness, leaving no room for argument. You look to Uncle Callen for support, but the bed-bound man gives you a sympathetic look. "I know it's difficult, $callenChild, goin' away while I'm like this, but yer Aunt Sonia's right ... Nothin' would make me feel better now than knowin' ye were out of this nasty place. Can ye ... do that for us?" He says amidst laboured breaths. "...Fine." You certainly don't like it, but if it will make him feel better, then you have to do it.<<else>>Uncle Callen frowns sadly. "This is an awful thing to have to do, I know that, $callenChild. But this ain't a place for <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>children<<else>>a child.<</if>>" You look to Aunt Sonia for support, but her mind already seems made. "I'd fling myself out of this bed and savage the one who let anything happen to you in this place, $firstname. I'd prefer not to do that at the minute, so could you save me the trouble, please?" Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. When was the last time she said //that//?! "...Fine." You'd rather stay, but you'd much rather not cause Aunt Sonia any more stress.<</if>> <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going, children?"<<else>>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene168]]

You look between the two of them with pleading eyes. "Can't I stay with you two? I ... I don't want to go home without you." "I am //not// that difficult to be around," Archer says with mock-petulance, pursing their lips. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>"Quiet," Aunt Sonia nudges them with her elbow. "We both want you here as well, $firstname, but the safest place for you to be is home, where we know you're alright." "I agree, $callenChild," Uncle Callen adds at your side, blinking slowly but managing a small smile. "We'll both be safe an' sound here." "...Fine." Part of you screams at yourself to stay here, where the chances of seeing ... //that// again are lower, but you can't stand against the wishes of both of your mentors.<<else>>"Quiet," Aunt Sonia mutters from her bed, shooting them a sharp look. "Listen to me, $firstname," she says with as much firmness as she can muster. "This is no place for you<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> or Sam.<<else>>.<</if>> Both of us would be in a better mood if you were home, safe and sound." "That's right, $callenChild," Uncle Callen smiles sadly down at you. "Much as it might pain ye to go, ye'll feel better back once ye're home, an' so will we. This ain't a place for children." "...Fine." Part of you screams at yourself to stay here, where the chances of seeing ... //that// again are lower, but you can't stand against the wishes of both of your mentors.<</if>> <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going, children?"<<else>>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene168]]

She sees your concern plain on your face. "Listen to me, $firstname," she says with as much firmness as she can muster. "This is no place for you<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">> or Sam.<<else>>.<</if>> I'd be in a better mood if you were home, safe and sound." <<if $patient > 50>>You pause for a moment, considering his words. "But ... I want to--"<<else>>Your patience, already wearing thin, wavers for a moment. "You don't //get it//, I want to--"<</if>> "I have the biggest man I've ever seen at my bedside, alongside three-dozen Weavers out for blood in my name, $firstname. I'd feel even //safer// if you were home. Please?" Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. When was the last time she said //that//?! "...Fine." You'd rather stay, but you'd much rather not cause Aunt Sonia any more stress. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going, children?"<<else>>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene168]]

He sees your concern plain on your face. "Nothin' more will happen, $callenChild. There ain't anyone I'd trust more to keep me happy an' hale than the people who're doin' that as I speak." <<if $patient > 50>>You pause for a moment, considering his words. "But ... I want to--"<<else>>Your patience, already wearing thin, wavers for a moment. "You don't //get it//, I want to--"<</if>> "I'll not be able to make a fool of meself anymore, $callenChild," Uncle Callen says, more definitively than before. "Ye need //rest//. I'll be home by nightfall, that's a promise I //can// make, okay?" "...Fine." You certainly don't like it, but he's at least a little bit right, as much as you'd rather not admit it. <<if $chap2Hurt == "yes">>You can only hope this promise is fulfilled.<<else>><</if>> <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going, children?"<<else>>"As long as we are all in agreement," Archer claps lightly, "Shall we be going?"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene168]]

The next hour comes and goes like the wind, with you <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>and Sam whisked out of the arena, with chaos brewing all around you. The boy is practically trembling by the time you're out, <<if $cautious > 50>>and so are you.<<else>>but you've managed to put on a slightly braver face.<</if>><<else>>whisked out of the arena, with chaos brewing all around you. <<if $cautious > 50>>You're practically trembling by the time you're out.<<else>>You manage to put on a brave face amidst it all.<</if>><</if>> You are then stuffed into a carriage, rumbling down Sola's shadowed streets as the early evening sun dips just beneath the horizon, casting the city in dim shadow and golden light. You think of the surface with no small amount of envy, for the sun still reigns supreme down there. Up here you are closer to the night, and the full moon that comes with it, heralding your strange dreams and the appearance of that //thing//. ...Yet it came to you during the day, again, when the sun reached its peak. What does it want? More importantly, just what is it? [[You're determined to figure it out.|Chap2Scene169a][$chap2InvaderOp == "discover"]] [[Whatever in the Gods' names this thing is, you want nothing to do with it.|Chap2Scene169b][$chap2InvaderOp == "avoid"]] [[You don't care; you don't want to discover what it is, you want to get rid of it. You hate it!|Chap2Scene169c][$chap2InvaderOp == "hate"]]

Every appearance it makes only serves to strengthen your resolve, threatening as it seems in the moment. Curiosity is beginning to overcome your reflexive fear of this strange apparition. You'll discover what it is, and figure out how to handle it when the time comes. Only you can help yourself here, since //something// is stopping you from speaking of it to anybody. [[The carriage judders to a stop.|Chap2Scene170]]

You just want to be left alone, and not //tormented// by some strange white-clad creature of the moon, speaking in its raspy tones and beckoning you to gaze upon its form. This mystery can remain as such if it means you don't have to think about it. Perhaps you can just ignore it next time. That will work, won't it? [[The carriage judders to a stop.|Chap2Scene170]]

That's what any //normal// person would do if a ghost suddenly started appearing every few weeks, you're certain. Ever since it first appeared to you in a reflection, this thing has haunted you on every day of the full moon, ceaseless in its advances. It needs to //go//, and you'll find a way to destroy it one day, you know that much. [[The carriage judders to a stop.|Chap2Scene170]]

"Mm," Archer looks away for a moment in thought. "Were I able to make it such that your day was not ruined by that wicked man, I certainly would." You chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment. "I don't want to talk about him..." "Of course," they bow their head, dark hair glistening in the outside lanternlight. "My apologies." You're startled, again, by a knock on the carriage's front window. The driver slides it open, peering in and looking at you <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>and Sam <<else>><</if>>for a moment before addressing Archer. "We've arrived," she says briskly, her voice taking on a weary edge; she must have driven a lot of people around today. "Very good," Archer responds, handing over a couple of shiny coins before swinging the nearest door to them open. "Out we go." <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[🌞+ You had been sat next to Sam, so he exits first.|Chap2Scene172a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[You had sat across from Sam, and exit first.|Chap2Scene172b]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥🌞+ Having leant your head on Sam's shoulder, you reluctantly move to let him out first.|Chap2Scene172c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<<elseif $samRomance == 2>>[[🔥🌞+ You and Sam had practically been laying on one another, so you have to untangle yourselves before either of you can get out.|Chap2Scene172d][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<<else>>[[🌞+ You and Sam had been comfortably leant against one another, so he exits first.|Chap2Scene172e][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<</if>><<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene172f]]<</if>>

Having been lost in thought, you look at Archer with what must be a startled expression, for they chuckle lightly. "Have you something on your mind? I imagine this was quite the day for you." <<if $chap2Fair == "yes">>[["I liked the fair," you admit, glad that it was everything you'd hoped, "but everything else was scary..."|Chap2Scene171a]] [["I didn't like the fair," you sigh, disappointed after your initial excitement. "Everything else just made things worse."|Chap2Scene171b]]<<else>>[["The fair was good," you admit, surprised at how much you enjoyed it with your initial reservations, "but everything else was scary..."|Chap2Scene171a]] [["I knew I wouldn't like the fair," you sigh, not surprised at how much you disliked it, "everything else made things even worse."|Chap2Scene171b]]<</if>>

"Mm," Archer's mirth ebbs away quickly. "It is a great pity you had a foul time, $firstname, doubly so that it was made worse by that wicked man." You chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment. "I don't want to talk about him..." "Of course," they bow their head, dark hair glistening in the outside lanternlight. "My apologies." You're startled, again, by a knock on the carriage's front window. The driver slides it open, peering in and looking at you <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>and Sam <<else>><</if>>for a moment before addressing Archer. "We've arrived," she says briskly, her voice taking on a weary edge; she must have driven a lot of people around today. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[🌞+ You had been sat next to Sam, so he exits first.|Chap2Scene172a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]] [[You had sat across from Sam, and exit first.|Chap2Scene172b]] <<if $samRomance == 1>>[[🔥🌞+ Having leant your head on Sam's shoulder, you reluctantly move to let him out first.|Chap2Scene172c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<<elseif $samRomance == 2>>[[🔥🌞+ You and Sam had practically been laying on one another, so you have to untangle yourselves before either of you can get out.|Chap2Scene172d][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<<else>>[[🌞+ You and Sam had been comfortably leant against one another, so he exits first.|Chap2Scene172e][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]<</if>><<else>>[[Next|Chap2Scene172f]]<</if>>

The boy gives you a little smile as he hops out, aided by Archer. [[Next|Chap2Scene173]]

The boy watches you exit quietly, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve before following you out. [[Next|Chap2Scene173]]

It was strangely nice to feel the rumbling of the carriage through his slightly bony shoulder--certainly not the most comfortable headrest. It served as a reminder that he was simply //there//, even if he wasn't exactly brimming with conversation at the moment. Neither were you. Sam smiles softly as you lift your head off of his shoulder, pointing out how some of your $haircolour hair now sticks up. You fix it hastily before following him out. [[Next|Chap2Scene173]]

It was nice to have that closeness with someone for a while. Archer certainly wouldn't have let you cuddle up with them. Archer smirks at the two of you, a knowing look in their eye as Sam giggles, stretching exaggeratedly. "I could'a fallen asleep in there," he tells you as you follow him out groggily. [[Next|Chap2Scene173]]

The boy gives you a supportive smile as you follow him out. [[Next|Chap2Scene173]]

They help you out with a daintily offered hand, shutting the door behind you. The carriage leaves shortly after. [[Next|Chap2Scene173]]

<<set $samObvTell to "no">>You find yourself once more outside of your home, with its cracked green walls and big front door. No light comes from inside. You expect it will be cold, even with all the measures taken today to heat the city up. Archer pulls out a key, given to them by <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Aunt Sonia<<else>>Uncle Callen<</if>> just as you were leaving. "Well, with any luck we are in for a quiet evening. Can <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>either of you<<else>>you<</if>> cook? No, of course you can't; I'll make do," they sigh without even letting you respond, and move to unlock the door. "It's been a while since I opened this the proper way," they say to themself, amused. <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>[[An idea comes to you. "Could you take us to the star-seeing place, like you have before?"|Chap2Scene174a][$ch2EndPoint to "obv"]] [[You let them open the door without interruption.|Chap2Scene174c]]<<else>>[[An idea comes to you. "Could you take me to the star-seeing place, like you have before?"|Chap2Scene174b][$ch2EndPoint to "obv"]] [[You let them open the door without interruption.|Chap2Scene174c][$ch2EndPoint to "home"]] <</if>>

They pause, turning around slowly. "I have taken //you// there, and it is called an observatory. I will make a note to get you a dictionary on my next visit." <<if $samTower == "yes">>"Oh!" Sam perks up almost immediately, cobalt eyes alight with new hope. "Is this what you told me about in the forest?" Archer frowns slightly. "Our visits there are to be a secret, $firstname. Now you tell that secret to what I can only assume is the //most// talkative boy I have ever encountered?"<<else>>"Huh?" Sam goes still, dumbfounded. "//Observatory//, like where you look at stars an' all that?" You look away guiltily. You're sure you had valid reasons for not telling him, though he doesn't //seem// angry. "Surprisingly verbose, well done," Archer nods at him, "though it was intended to be a secret. A secret that I can only assume is the //most// talkative boy I have ever encountered now knows of."<</if>> "Honest, I won't tell a soul! But ... could we? The Veil will be //soo// clear tonight; there's hardly any clouds!" Sam babbles, directing your attention up to the clear, orange-y purple sky. The first hints of the Veil's light have already begun to appear, distant and wispy and curling around the dim moon. Archer pinches the bridge of their nose, thinking for a moment. "I suppose ... I do have some lingering work I was dragged away from by all of this festival nonsense." They stop any celebration from the two of you with a held-up finger. "However, you are to be as quiet as the wind and equally as visible. I will //not// have my reputation tarnished or my work hampered by the two of you, am I to be understood?" <<if $chivalrous > 50>>You and Sam eagerly nod your agreement with the mage's terms, though their allusion to the wind doesn't make much sense. It's //very// loud up here.<<else>>Sam eagerly nods his agreement with the mage's terms, though you are slightly more reluctant in your response. Archer shoots you a withering look, but acquiesces.<</if>> "Very well, I will call the carriage that I just sent away," they sigh, striding off in the direction the carriage left. "Stay there, and try not to turn to dust or whatever it is children your age do when unattended." [[Next|Chap2Scene175a]]

//UNFORTUNATELY, THIS ROUTE IS UNFINISHED. PLEASE MAKE A SAVE AND CHECK BACK DURING A LATER UPDATE.// They pause, turning around slowly. "It is called an observatory, $firstname. I suppose a dictionary is in order for your ninth birthday, hm?" "You //always// get me books for my birthdays," you sigh. "So, can we?" "They are very useful tools for dull little minds," the mage says with a lecturing tone. "You ask a lot of me, $firstname, but ... I suppose I do have some lingering work I was dragged away from by all of this festival nonsense." They stop any celebration from the two of you with a held-up finger. "However, you are to be as quiet as the wind and equally as visible. I will //not// have my reputation tarnished or my work hampered, am I to be understood?" <<if $chivalrous > 50>>You eagerly nod your agreement with the mage's terms, though their allusion to the wind doesn't make much sense. It's //very// loud up here.<<else>>You are slightly reluctant in your response, mumbling about them being too strict. Archer shoots you a withering look, but acquiesces.<</if>> "Very well, I will call the carriage that I just sent away," they sigh, striding off in the direction the carriage left. "Stay there, and try not to turn to dust or whatever it is children your age do when unattended." [[Next|Chap2Scene175b]]

Soon after, you and Sam find yourselves stuffed back into the very same carriage you arrived in, while Archer explains the situation to the confused-looking driver--whose confusion goes away the moment the mage flashes another pair of coins. "I've seen the Guild up-close," Sam says with brewing concern in his features. "they don't let //anyone// in unless you're a member, or you have this special badge. How will we get in?" "Well, you and $firstname will have to put on a rather large coat, and //one// of you will have to clamber on the other's shoulders," Archer's eyes twinkle. Sam's lips twist in thought. <<if $strength > 0>>"Well, $firstname's probably a //bit// stronger than me, so $they can carry me?"<<else>>"I ... think I could carry $firstname? I'm not that strong, but I really wanna see from the tower."<</if>> Archer's facade breaks, and they reassure him, "I only jest, boy. The observatory is not within the Guild's complex, though I will still need to create a convincing lie for the two of you. How would you like to be two young scholars in need of instruction?" [["I've seen how you teach," you snicker. "You aren't good."|Chap2Scene176a1]] [["Can't you just tell them to let you in? Aren't you a big name there?" (Cold +)|Chap2Scene176a2][$cold to $cold + 1]] [["And ... they'll believe that?" You ask, voice wavering. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene176a3][$cautious to $cautious + 1]]

//When Rion returns, it is late at night, flanked by their own guard and a half-dozen others, wearing armour quite unlike that worn by your comrades. You've set up camp outside the city; while the majority of the caravan found lodgings within, you opted for this place, as did Rion. You've never felt particularly safe in cities or towns, feeling more comfort in front of a roaring campfire, like the one you sit before now. "I bring good news, Druso!" They sing-song self-assuredly, sauntering over. "We have made some new friends--I shall have to tell you about them later, but they are quite the sight to behold. This 'Stonefist' breeds loyalty with coin, so it was ... easy, to convince them of a path better-lit." You eye the group splitting off from Rion's own guard, which hangs back while the two of you speak in private. "You let them walk about as if they are our companions, so soon?" "From this day, they ''are'' our companions. I made a promise, you see. The good dimarch saw reason, bless his heart, and pledged us with provisions and workers aplenty for our journey ahead. He only asks that we one day bring him and his to the city upon its completion," they grin excitedly, child-like satisfaction creasing their golden-hued face. "Rest assured, their loyalties now lie with us, and our dream. Efinia and the others will not see harm on this night. Oh--where ''is'' the good priestess, anyway?" "In the city," you grunt. "She heard tell of a healer's clinic, and wished to learn the ways of 'healing without prayer'." "If we have any sick in our number, I ought to--" "Wave a hand and make things better?" You chuckle, unable to stop derision seeping into your tone. "Sometimes I think you a..." "A what, Druso?" Rion frowns slightly, daintily sitting down next to you. Their hand settles on your forearm, warm and soft. You shake your head, sighing. "You do too much, too fast. Sanguinity will only take us so far; we have enemies out there, and I see you taking on more than we can handle every other day!" "You scold me for being ... ''hopeful''?" Rion looks at you in humoured disbelief. "We are working for a better world, Druso. In service of that goal, we ourselves must work to be better. I cannot doubt, or falter. I must help everyone. I can feel it, sometimes ... their ''faith''. I feel as if I have gotten stronger, these past few months. That I can do ''more''. The more people who follow us, the more I will be able to offer to them." "You speak truly?" "Always," they squeeze your arm, smiling with a far-off look in their golden eyes. "Think on what I have said, my friend. Though ... I do appreciate your advice, always. My goal is not to be careful, is all." "I know, Rion..." "Good!" They laugh, getting up smoothly and holding out a hand to you. "Shall we take a look in the city? Perhaps we might run into your little love, hm? She can teach me to heal the ''regular'' way." [[You reluctantly get up, swatting their hand away. "I ... suppose we can take a look."|Chap3PostDream]]

You wake, but not where you expect to be. The horizon is bleak and empty, with nothing but a calm ocean stretching as far as you can see. Wait, an //ocean//? You look down, and find yourself stood on water, dark and calm. It's with a start that you realise you're still in a dream, just not the one you were having. How did you wake into //another// dream?! You look around, trying to find something else to focus on, and rest your gaze on the moon, hanging heavily in the night sky, large and round and altogether too big, bigger than it should be, taking on a pale red-orange hue. [[A blood moon.|Chap3PostDream2]]

There's the sound of rising bubbles, right behind you. You turn, still confused at how you can stand on water, and step back once you realise what it is that's come face-to-face with you. The white-clad phantom, the very same you saw in reflections, and then in the crowd at the exhibitionary fight, and a dozen more times in the two years since that awful day. Steam rises from its still form as it creakily shifts to stand at least three times your height. Something dark and viscous oozes from the barely-visible joints in its armour--or is it truly armour? Is this thing the armour itself, a living //thing// made of steel and sorrow, sent to torment you? You are stunned into silence as the creature suddenly animates, stepping around you to stand before the moon with great, lumbering steps. More and more fluid oozes from its joints, drip-dropping into the calm water to form little murky clouds under its surface. It looks like it's bleeding all over. When it comes to a stop, the armour is deadly still. Its beak-like head shifts slightly to point directly at you, but its form does not shift to betray any hint of something within drawing breath. It makes no sound at all. Until it speaks. In the same deep, echoing rasp you've come to associate with it, the figure says, <span id = "invader-text">"How many times we have tried. How many times we have ... dwindled. You,"</span> it draws out the sound with a droning, sickly croak, <span id = "invader-text">"must be the last. Go beyond ferality, claim the Oldest Blood."</span> It's in this very moment that you find yourself in some control of your faculties. You've read of dreams where the dreamer came to understand that they were sleeping, and became able to control the course of the slumbering world they inhabited, though you don't seem quite at that point. If you could, you'd will all of this away. [[You step forward, curious despite yourself. "What ... are you?"|Chap3PostDream3a]] [["Stay back!" You panic, darting away from the thing.|Chap3PostDream3b]] [["W-what are you even talking about?!" You ask frantically.|Chap3PostDream3c]] [[You cover your ears, crouching down in fear. "You aren't real, you aren't real, you aren't real..."|Chap3PostDream3d]]

<span id = "invader-text">"You ... are not yet ready, child," the thing says, as if just coming to the realisation itself. "Learn, grow and thrive, inheritor, and I will yet return to your senses. The sun is yet to bleed. Farewell..."</span> "Ready for what? W--" You are unable to finish your questioning, as the ocean beneath you opens up to swallow you in its great aquatic maw. Darkness, all-encompassing, though no water fills your lungs. Somewhere distant, deep below, you feel something, //multiple// somethings. So many presences, all unnervingly familiar. They are waiting. They are patient. //[[So very patient...|Chap3Scene1]]//

The armour stands silently for a moment, bowing its oddly-shaped helm. <span id = "invader-text">"I am necessary."</span> <<if $sarcastic > 50>>If you were braver, you might find yourself saying something like, 'Hello, Necessary,' but as it stands you don't reckon this thing even has a sense of humour, nor do you wish to find out. "Necessary for what?"<<else>>"Necessary for what?"<</if>> Another pause. All of a sudden you feel a slight ... frustration? <span id = "invader-text">"For ''you''. For the world. For all that is and could yet be."</span> [[The armour shifts, making a creaking sound not unlike a quiet scream.|Chap3PostDream4]]

There's the //splish-splash// of the water's surface under your feet, but when you look over your shoulder to check if the creature has given chase, you find it directly behind you, completely immobile. You come to a shuddering stop, paralysed with fear. You didn't move at all. //You don't control this dream//, the armoured creature does. <span id = "invader-text">"Flee ... at your peril, inheritor,"</span> it says quietly. <span id = "invader-text">"Cowardice is the spark that lights a world-burning fire."</span> A frustrated disappointment blooms in the very corner of your mind. A feeling that is not quite yours. [[The armour shifts, making a creaking sound not unlike a quiet scream.|Chap3PostDream4]]

<span id = "invader-text">"I speak of the death of dreams, inheritor."</span> The creature makes a groaning sound as it gestures shakily to the reddened moon. <span id = "invader-text">"Of the frightful second in the grand span of bedlam you will dub, 'humanity'."</span> "Just please stop," you half-beg, asking your own sleeping mind as much as this thing to let you go. "I don't want this, I don't want you here, I just--" The creature's helmet-head creaks as it turns towards you. If it had eyes, they would be staring //through// you. <span id = "invader-text">"You seek peace where there is only emptiness. The two are not the same."</span> An unfamiliar emotion prickles at the murky depths of your mind. Loneliness? Longing? Perhaps regret, then. Perhaps it is your privilege that you do not fully know it. [[The armour shifts, making a creaking sound not unlike a quiet scream.|Chap3PostDream4]]

A series of creaking and groaning sounds echo across the empty space, and you peek through your fingers--clasped over misty eyes--at the thing //crouching//, resting one red-leaking gauntlet over a paper-white knee. <span id = "invader-text">"''We'' are real, inheritor. You are here. I," it pauses, turning its beaked helm towards the blood moon, "will be here evermore."</span> All at once, you feel peaceful and strangely unsettled. Is this contentment? Something solemn cuts under the comfort, a dimmed devotion. Duty. Tears, not of fear but of something else entirely, wet your eyes again. <span id = "invader-text">"Stand."</span> Despite yourself, you do. [[The armour shifts, making a creaking sound not unlike a quiet scream.|Chap3PostDream4]]

Soon after, you find yourself stuffed back into the very same carriage you arrived in, while Archer explains the situation to the confused-looking driver--whose confusion goes away the moment the mage flashes another pair of coins. "So," Archer looks at you scrutinously, "what has brought about this wish to see the stars?" [["I ... actually want to see the moon," you admit.|Chap2Scene176b1]] [["I didn't want to go home yet. It'd feel ... bad," you mutter. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene176b2][$cautious to $cautious + 1]] [[You snort. "We haven't been there in so long, it was about time!" (Stubborn +)|Chap2Scene176b3][$stubborn to $stubborn + 1]]

//UNFORTUNATELY, THIS ROUTE IS UNFINISHED. PLEASE MAKE A SAVE AND CHECK BACK DURING A LATER UPDATE.//

//Many years ago...// Sonia sits, alone, at a table in a dark corner of a tavern--one that she is an infrequent patron of, if only for the fact that she frequents so many others. She leans back in her chair with a tired sigh, draining half a cup of ale in two gulps. Looking down at the table, she only notices the presence of a visitor by the descent of their bulky shadow on the table's surface. "Unless just so happen to be an absurdly muscular woman, I'm not interested," she murmurs. "Cease this self-embarrassment," the figure responds in a gruff and dismissive tone. "Fuck--" Sonia snaps into an upright position, sitting as straight as possible in her chair while looking at her visitor with bleary eyes. "Master?!" Cadoch Gwyndon quirks an eyebrow. "You took me for a woman?" Sonia shrugs, gathering her wits quickly with a crooked smirk. "I've enjoyed fair ladies with deeper voices than yours." "Twenty-seven and still a child," Cadoch grunts, dragging the opposite seat to Sonia out with a screech, planting himself on it with a grimace while gently placing a goblet of wine in front of him. "You ought not bring your blade to places such as this, Wierszy. You only invite ire and challenge," he lectures, nodding at Sonia's Empyrean blade--unsheathed--resting against the edge of the table. "Tell you a secret, you big oaf," Sonia leans in, grinning. "Having greensteel makes //everybody// want to talk with you. Weavers are in fashion these days!" "And whom exactly have you //talked// with, hm?" Cadoch asks, planting his arm on the edge of the table to lean on it. He wears travelling clothes, and dons neither his Master's badge nor his glaive. His sideburns look slightly unkempt, and slight dark circles ring his deep blue eyes. Sonia snickers impishly. "Only the ones with pretty eyes and a good pair of--" "Gods above, Wierszy, show some tact." "You //asked//. Can't blame me for being honest." She blinks, sighing miserably. "I miss women, Master. I miss them a lot..." [[Next|Chap3SonCad2]]

Cadoch gives her a barely-masked sneer. "I do not care." Sonia makes a similar expression, mocking him. "So, what brings you to Sola?" She asks, settling down for the moment. She cradles her tankard of ale like a cup of steaming tea. "You," Cadoch replies, straightening his shoulders. "Or, more accurately, the child you seem to have //found// yourself in possession of." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>"I sent that letter as soon as I could. Why only come now?"<<else>>"//Technically//, the kid's Callen's. I sent that letter as soon as I could. Why only come now?"<</if>> "Channel outages in Abria delayed your letter by a week. It seems the disaster at Elfrod was not enough to encourage the Empire to take maintenance of their Channels more seriously." [[Sonia's expression darkens. "What else is new..."|Chap3SonCad3]]

"Moreover," Cadoch continues, "I was //busy//. I trusted the two of you to keep the $child alive until I could next visit. And it seems I was correct in my belief; $they looks healthy." "High praise from the mighty Cadoch Gwyndon. I'll make sure to tell $them you said that, Master, thank you ever so much." Sonia bows her head so deeply that her hair nearly ends up soaked in a different cup--this one, however, is half-full of wine. Cadoch rolls his eyes again, leaning back in his chair. "You drink and make //fun// with strumpets, and ''fools'', while Edros cares for that child<<if $mentor == "Sonia">> which is your responsibility!<<else>>.<</if>> I came here, full of hope that this event might have shown you a different way, but woe to me that I find you the same girl, running away from that which challenges her. Even a Debt brand cannot keep you in check." "I serve the Order when I have to, and drink when I need to. I'm taking a break, Master," Sonia responds defensively, almost spitting out the last word. "Callen gets it. He actually //understands//." "The man has always coddled you, Wierszy, though I do not blame him. You each ... have endured a great deal, but this is not the way to manage your pain. Leaving your home to drink and cavort every other night will only end in one thing: A child who does not //know// you." Sonia slams her cup on the table, drawing gasps that cut through the tavern's lively music for a moment. "Well, maybe $they's better off that way!" "Wierszy--" "We stood there and watched $their mother and father burn. Never learned their names. The city wanted it done hush-hush so nothing would get stirred up. A murder, in Sola? There would be chaos, so they were hid in shipping crates while we went down the Sky Lift. Callen didn't say a word. Do you know how rare that is? The tattoos were still raw on our skin, and there we were, burning bodies," Sonia hisses, low and sharp. She finally pauses, reaching for a cup--a different one to that which she slammed down earlier--and takes a swig, grimacing immediately after. "Oh, I fucking //hate// Terisian wine. Who the hell ordered this?" "That is mine, Wierszy." "You've still got shit taste, Master." Sonia slides the goblet across the table to him, crinkling her freckled nose in disgust. Cadoch stops the stuttery movement of the cup with his hand, glowering at the sloshing liquid within. [["Enough of this," he rumbles.|Chap3SonCad4]]

"There was a time when you would speak to me of your insecurities, Wierszy. When your scars were not yet healed, and you would sit in my study during breaktimes with a sour look in your eyes. I see that same look now, and so I will extend you this one invitation; what troubles you, //really//?" Sonia's head tilts questioningly, her green eyes turned dark and curious. "Do you mean romantically, or..." Cadoch is stony still. "You have one more chance before I leave this place, Wierszy. Do not waste it." Sonia stares at him, mouth twitching. The puckered surface of her scar is barely visible on the shadowed side of her face. "...We messed up." "In what way?" Sonia scowls impatiently. "In taking the kid. Grandmasters Enota and Abraham played us both for fools. They think we'll make a mess of things, that //I'll// make a mess of things." She sighs, sipping from another cup. "The Weavers hate me, Master. I've always known it, accepted it, but this $child doesn't need to be a part of that. I'm afraid $they will be, and it's killing me." Cadoch's expression is unreadable. "Then why take $them?" "...Empathy, I suppose. //Fucking empathy//. $theyF had no choice, so neither did we. Now we'll all live with the consequences," Sonia says, clipped and abrupt. [[Next|Chap3SonCad5]]

Cadoch's eyes soften. "Have you more to say?" Sonia's hand clenches around her cup, knuckles turning white before she sighs and drops the sloshing container on the table, looking away from her old master. "This $child's life won't be easy, to put it lightly. I think--" she pauses to run her hands through her hair frenetically, irritated by one or two loose strands. "We made a mistake. Sure, we can stomach the costs, what our Debts will put on us, but I know, deep down, we're raising a ... a killer. If not a killer, a laughing stock. I've tried ignoring it, but whenever I look in that $child's eyes I see Gerrow, and Navin, and all the others whose names I've tried forgetting. I'm no mother, Master. I can't raise a person, not a good one. Callen can, much as he never expected fatherhood, so I ... I leave him to it." Cadoch blinks slowly. "You have not discussed these thoughts with Edros." "//Tch//," Sonia smirks sourly. "How'd you know?" He glances down at the several goblets and cups laid out before her. "You drink beyond your capacity when you are anxious. Call it //intuition//. Has this weighed on you ever since the $child came into your care?" She goes to take another sip of her wine, but stops herself when Cadoch raises an eyebrow. "In varying amounts, at varying times," she sighs, pushing the cup away from her definitively. "And these aren't all mine. Somehow, I'm scaring all the //conversationalists// away tonight." "Mm, only the Gods would know why," Cadoch chuckles for the first time, sounding more like a cough. "Sonia," he uses her name for the first time since sitting down, turning somber once more, "you admitted to me that you took the $child in out of empathy. You //cared//, understood $their predicament. I know few who could say they would do the same, given similar circumstances to yours. Sola is ... expensive," he looks around, disgruntled. "And still you chose to help. I told you that you have not changed, but I was wrong. You are on the correct path, my old apprentice, and you must continue down it." "...What would you have me do?" "Speak to Edros, for a start. //Communicate//. Edros sees in you what you cannot; he wants only the best for you." Sonia stares hard at him for what must be half a minute, hardly blinking. "I'll try." "Well," her old master bows his head graciously. "That is all I can hope for." [[Next|Chap3SonCad6]]

After a few moments of pleasant silence, Cadoch grunts, suddenly remembering something. "Have you given the $child a name, yet? Edros refused to tell me, and insisted that you be the one to tell me. I had hoped age would temper his mischief..." <<if $mentor == "Sonia">>Sonia grins. "I have, but it took me a //while//. Did you know there are entire books, just full of names, in Sola's library? It's fucked." "Who knows what else you might find if you spent more than an hour in a library..." She smirks, tilting her cup towards him in a conceding gesture. "You've got me there, Master. I hardly ever read the books you assigned us to study. I just had Bethan write the studies for me." "I knew that was //not// your handwriting..." "How is she, these days, the good Baroness Holam? I never thought to keep in touch," Sonia says lamely, her lie going unchallenged despite its clarity. Cadoch looks away for a moment. "I hear she manages her estate well, but any attemps at contact have been refused. I ... do not blame her." Sonia sighs. "No, me neither..." "Now, Wierszy. The name?"<<else>>"That was Callen's right. He spent an entire //week// deciding on it. Do you know how strange it is to just call your kid '$child'?" Cadoch scratches his chin, looking strangely contemplative. "The mercenaries who took me called me 'boy' until I won my first practise duel. T'was a rite of passage." "You don't talk enough about how fucked your childhood was, Master, all due respect." Sonia shakes her head. "Few of us do, Wierszy. Few of us do. Now, the name?"<</if>> "Oh, right," she snorts. "I'd forgotten what we were talking about. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Callen chose the name '$firstname'."<<else>>"I chose the name '$firstname'."<</if>> "Mm," Cadoch nods. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>He chose well." "I think so, too." Sonia smiles softly.<<else>>You chose well." "Thank you." Sonia bows her head.<</if>> Cadoch grabs his cup, lifting it high into the air. "Well, to $firstname. May $they seek a better world than that which has been left to $them." Sonia grabs picks out two cups of her own, raising them just as high. "To $firstname!" [[Next|Chap2Ending]]

"When I teach those who //listen//," Archer says pointedly, "I am quite good. I simply overestimated your ability to understand the topic of natural philosophy..." <<if $volatile > 50>>"I'm //eight//!"<<else>>"I am only eight," you grumble.<</if>> "Age ought not stop a genius from blossoming, but alas. Your talents are yet to be found elsewhere, I am sure," Archer teases you. [[Next|Chap2Scene177a]]

"Quite correct, $firstname, I thank you," Archer smiles winningly, "but alas, no. Even for one of my caliber in the Guild's ranks, there are policies in place; old rules to be followed. Even I can understand the reason for such things." "I don't know about anything about this stuff, Mx. Archer!" Sam says waveringly. "You know proper address, isn't that sweet!" They smirk, impressed. "Worry not. I will do //all// of the talking for both of you. You need only look ... somewhat composed." Sam's expression shifts into one of forcefully-imposed seriousness. "I can do that!" [["Very good," Archer nods.|Chap2Scene177a]]

"They have with you, in the past," Archer shrugs. "I don't see what would change with one other child added to the equation." "What if they ask why Sam's never visited before?" Archer pauses. "...We will say he is a transfer student from Abria. //Gods, I'm good at this.//" "I could'a thought of that," Sam snickers. "Ah, but you didn't, so I remain the genius." Archer basks in their own, nonexistent glory. [[Next|Chap2Scene177a]]

It takes longer than necessary due to all the bustle moving around the city--merrymakers and festivalgoers seek out places to unwind and enjoy themselves, flitting about the streets in a swarm of bright colours and personalities. You watch them through one of the carriage's windows, pressing the side of your head against the cold glass. It's quite soothing, even if every rumble and bump of your journey is felt. ...It's a paltry distraction, everything considered. <<if $optimistic > 50>>You try to keep focused on your destination, and not everything that came before, which helps some.<<else>>You try and fail to focus on your destination, mind swimming with worries and fear about everything that's come before.<</if>> Sam grunts and shuffles to look out of his own window, moving so close to the glass that he leaves a little patch of condensation on the glass with each breath. "It's still so busy," he wonders aloud. "Why isn't everyone goin' home?" "I expect the Sky Lifts will be stuffed to overflowing, so most of the festivalgoers will opt to stay the night--or multiple nights if they can afford to. There is also fun to be had after a fair, I suppose..." "Pa doesn't let me go out when it gets dark," Sam sighs, turning away from the window and bouncing in his seat. "But I don't mind much! I just get up real early so I have more time to do what I want in the day." "And I am sure your father appreciates that," Archer says behind their hand, glancing at you knowingly. <<if $samRelationship > 55>>You frown slightly, taking offense to the way they make fun of Sam.<<elseif $samRelationship < 54 and $samRelationship > 45>>You find some humour in it, but feel slightly uneasy at making such blatant fun of the boy.<<else>>You stifle a giggle, amused at how they so boldly make fun of the boy.<</if>> Eventually the carriage comes to a stop outside a great looming tower, built atop and inside of a massive rocky protrusion. Sola is mostly flat, but some parts stick out, such as this one. Much of the city's exterior and bottom is made up of natural rock too, with tunnels carved through it and many foundations added to the perimeter, allowing the city to expand outwards--if only slightly. "Wow, that's big," Sam notes. "It has to be," Archer says airily, carrying the tone of someone who has been here hundreds upon hundreds of times. "I do hope you like stairs, Samuel." "Why?" You sigh distastefully. "There are //so// many." [[Next|Chap2Scene178a]]

"The moon?" Archer chuckles questioningly. "Have you a sudden interest in the Goddess Noctome?" "Not in Her," your face twists a little in annoyance--both at Archer's teasing and your sudden inability to explain your true reasons. "I just ... want to see a full moon." "Well, I suppose there is some beauty in the full moon, as much as most Solan devotees would have me repent for that simple comment. How strange it is that the Gods united, yet we still divide ourselves in Their names..." [[Next|Chap2Scene177b]]

Their expression softens. "Ah, I see. Well, I don't expect we will stay particurly long, especially since <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Sonia dearest and Callen<<else>>Callen and Sonia dearest<</if>> should be back by nightfall. Still, I will do my best to be a comforting host, for a change." It's a rare moment of genuine kindness from the mage, who so often turns to teasing, that you're somewhat taken aback. [["Thanks, Archer," you smile sweetly. (Cold --)|Chap2Scene177b2][$cold to $cold - 2]] [["You'd better not be lying," you frown. (Cold ++)|Chap2Scene177b3][$cold to $cold + 2]] [[You aren't sure what to think of their assurance, and opt to stay silent.|Chap2Scene177b]]

"Oh!" Archer puts on a face of mock-seriousness, "I hadn't been made aware you were giving orders, now! I take it you can pay for this ride, then?" "...No." "I see," they smirk. "Well, next time you wish to see the stars, do try to keep some coin on hand. I believe Sonia dearest keeps some spare..." "I don't think she'd want me to steal from her," you snicker. "No? Well, she should have thought about that before she borrowed a hundred Eagles from me four years ago. I am //yet// to be repaid..." They grumble. [[Next|Chap2Scene177b]]

"You are most welcome, $firstname," they smile slightly, looking out of the window. It seems their kind streak only goes so far as //saying// nice things. Looking at you while doing so might still be a ways away. [[Next|Chap2Scene177b]]

"On the memory of my good mother, I am not," they place a ringed hand over their heart solemnly. [[Next|Chap2Scene177b]]

You all exit the carriage once again and stand under the shadow of the Guild's observatory. Like Archer mentioned, it isn't near to the actual Mage's Guild compound, where the rest of their fellows work and learn. It's made of almost glittery white stone, though it looks more yellowed in the evening light. It doesn't take long to get in, with Archer's lie going unchallenged, <<if $honesty > 50>>though you have a difficult time keeping your calm since you don't often lie,<<else>>while you play your part perfectly,<</if>> and Sam does his absolute best to look like his imagining of a young scholar. It isn't a good impression, but it seems to do its job. [[Next|Chap2Scene179a]]

"Wow!" Sam exclaims breathlessly, leaning forward with his hands on his legs while looking around the observatory's highest chamber. It's a fairly wide room, circular in shape, with all sorts of contraptions and boards--littered with esoteric scrawlings--scattered about in a way that implies //some// form of organisation, but one you are not familiar with at all. A great scope sits in the centre of the room, built into the domed ceiling, which also has a massive, curtained window for simply looking out of. You know how to use the scope, and Archer even got a little stool for you to stand on since the thing doesn't quite lower to your height yet. "Remember; ''touch nothing''," Archer turns on their heel, shooting you a scrutinous glare, and then Sam. [["Can we look through the scope?" You ask hopefully.|Chap2Scene180a1]] [[When they aren't looking, touch something. You have to. (Chivalrous -)|Chap2Scene180a2][$chivalrous to $chivalrous - 1]]

"Of course," Archer nods, heading up a small set stairs and sitting down at a desk on a platform built higher than the rest of the room, idly writing on something. "I trust you remember how to operate the thing, $firstname?" <<if $cautious > 50>>"...I think so?" You respond uncertainly. "It is hardly difficult, you will remember. I am sure of it," they respond flippantly.<<else>>"I do!" You respond with confidence. "Very good," they respond with approval.<</if>> "Yes!" Sam yells in excitement, grimacing and looking apologetic when Archer glares at him. [[Next|Chap2Scene181a]]

Sam shoots you a look of alarm as you creep over to a standing globe, showing the known world. He glances over at Archer, who has promptly gone to sit down at their desk, at the top of a small set of stairs, and scrawl away on some paper. With that confirmation, the boy creeps over and watches as you place a finger on the globe, tracing the shape of the continent of Phanol. Curves and spikes, Abria to Vengard, all coalesce to create the dagger-like silhouette the landmass is known for. The boy reaches over hesitantly to spin the globe around, marvelling at how it moves so smoothly. "There's no cities or anything here," he frowns, pointing at a massive landmass to the east of Phanol, across the Churning Ocean. Depictions of ship-wrecking storms and great leviathans are painted in the waters around the strange, unmarked continent, while its land is shown as only desert; beige and empty where Phanol is dotted with lush, diverse landscapes. "That's uncharted land," you whisper back, "hardly anybody goes there; Aunt Sonia told me it's because the place is cursed. She says the..." You shoot another glance up to Archer, who writes away obliviously, "The //Thirteenth// came from there." Sam covers his mouth, gasping. "You shouldn't say that! Thirteenth didn't come from //anywhere//, it's just a monster." <<if $stubborn > 50>>You're about to protest<<else>>You're about to ask where he heard that<</if>> when a sharp whistle makes the two of you jump. "The globe is alright to handle," Archer drawls from the top of the stairs, leaning on a wooden railing, "though I would rather you asked." "Sorry!" The two of you exclaim in unison. [[Next|Chap2Scene181a]]

"Now," the mage continues, "I plan on muting the sound around me while I do my work. I abhor distractions, and I fear I have brought two big ones into my place of work. If you need me, well," they peer at the floor, "there are plenty of crumpled-up papers laying around. Throw one of those." With that they turn around quickly, make a quick motion with their fingers, some of the rings around them flickering and sparking, and then they are promptly back to work. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>Sam glances at you, smiling excitedly. "Should we look through the scope?" "I'll show you how to use it," you helpfully offer, walking with the boy up to the scope's complicated eyepiece.<<else>>Sam looks around again, deep in thought. "I'm gonna look through the scope." "You don't know how to use it," you sigh. "I'll figure it out! Or--uh, you could help me?" The boy smiles sheepishly, having not thought of that beforehand.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene182a]]

You end up showing Sam how to use the big scope, after dragging a stool over for the two of you to stand on. The boy is a quick learner<<if $samRelationship < 45>>, surprisingly<<else>><</if>>, and is soon turning the little crank that angles the massive contraption as if he'd done it a dozen times, like you. "Wow, a constant--uh--//constellation//!" He suddenly exclaims, beckoning you to come and look. He steps off the stool and hurries you on to it: You're sure he'd be pressing your eye to the eyepiece as well if he was sure he wouldn't hurt you in doing so. You peer through the little glass lens, blinking as it tickles your eyelashes, and the image comes into focus. Past the still-wispy hints of the Veil is the very beginning of a deep blue night sky, dotted with an unfathomable amount of little pinpricks of light. "Can you see it?" You can feel Sam's presence behind you, as if he's peering over your shoulder despite being able to see anything at all. "It's //riiight// in the middle, $samNick." <<if $samNick != $firstname>>You roll your eyes at the nickname, and look harder once the image comes back into focus.<<else>>You hum and try to look harder, scanning the image for something resembling a constellation.<</if>> [["I can't see anything," you mutter. You don't really know anything about constellations.|Chap2Scene183a1][$starKnow to "no"]] [[Then it comes into focus, right in the centre of the image as Sam said. It helps to have some paltry knowledge about stars!|Chap2Scene183a2][$starKnow to "yes"]]

Some pretty colours, and a lot of bright little spots, but you can't see anything of note. You pull back with a huff, shaking your head. "I can't see it." "Aww," Sam groans, "I don't know what it's called, an' I thought you'd know..." <<if $cold > 50>>"Well, I don't," you jut out your chin. You aren't //stupid//, you just don't know stars! "We'll figure it out some other way, I bet," Sam smiles again, oblivious your prickly response. "We could be astrologers one day!" "//Astronomers//..." You correct with a sigh. You've been on the receiving end of //that// lecture from Archer too many times to hear it again. Even if they've surrounded themselves with a bubble of silence, they might still overhear someone making a mistake for them to correct.<<else>>"Sorry," you smile sheepishly. "I'll try to learn some for next time?" "I like the sound of 'next time', $samNick!" Sam grins. <<if $samRelationship < 50>>"...We'll see," you mutter, looking away.<<else>>You return his grin, already wondering when you'll be able to visit this place again.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene184a]]

You have one or two books of the major constellations in the night sky--gifted by Archer, of course--and have looked through them for the most famous ones. The Dancing Bulls, Garma's Folly, and of course, the Old Huntress, resembling a woman with her bow drawn, are all fresh in your mind. In fact, you think you're looking at the Old Huntress now. A cloud of stardust, as common belief goes, makes up the flowing shape of her hair, swirling golds and greens and blues, while you can easily trace the path of her figure through the shape of the stars. A particularly bright star shines at the very tip of her drawn arrow. "Found it." "D'you know which one it is?" Sam asks excitedly. "It's the Old Huntress, I think. It's a good one," you grin excitedly, turning from the lens momentarily. "I ... don't know that one," Sam scratches his head, confused. "Well, she was from Telfrin, so they probably wouldn't teach Abrians about it," you reason, disappointed. The boy's face sours. "That's all so silly. I bet we'd all know more if they just ... made up!" You snicker. Aunt Sonia's many political rants tell you that probably wouldn't be as simple as the boy makes it seem. [[Next|Chap2Scene184a]]

Evening turns into, well, a //later// evening, as the dusky orange skies shift to a deep, cloudless blue. You and Sam occupy yourselves<<if $samRelationship > 50>><<else>>, albeit separately and at different times,<</if>> with the big scope, as well as some smaller tools and models--including a moving model of how the world spins around the sun in a path called an orbit, and the moon does the same on a much smaller scale. "Who would'a thought the world wasn't flat, huh?" Sam says absentmindedly, now laying on the floor with a cushion--pilfered from one of Archer's big chairs--propping his head up, staring at the window in the ceiling. <<if $intelligence > 0>>"They only discovered it recently," you inform him. "Some people //still// think it's flat. I don't really know why." The boy scrunches his nose. "How recent?" You shrug. "A hundred years ago, I think?" You can't remember the exact details, but you know for certain the world was--uneqoivically and undeniably--proven to be a round mass, flying through space, roughly a century ago. The revelation was somewhat unnerving, which might be why some people prefer the alternative, as impossible as it is. Sam bursts out in giggles. "A hundred's not //recent//, $samNick! That's, what, ten times how old I am?" <<if $cautious > 50>>"It's recent for something big like that..." You mumble, uncertain. You'd wanted to offer information, and now he's making fun of it.<<else>>You snort. "Well, it's pretty recent as far as //the world// goes, right? When was the last time you heard something as big as that?"<</if>> His giggling quiets, and he nods. "Yeah, you got a point, $samNick. D'you want to look at the Veil with me? I got the best view //ever// here."<<else>>"Lots of people, I think," you respond with uncertainty. "But I guess everybody thought it was flat at one point, so it would have been normal then." "//Normal// ain't real," Sam snickers. "We're sittin' in a big floating city, and everybody acts like it's all well and good!" <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Everyone actually hates it here," you snicker. "They say it's too cold, //and// the wind can--" "I know that's not real!" Sam interjects, shaking his head strongly. "The wind ain't //ever// strong enough to blow someone off, so don't even try! There's nets, too. I saw them when we were comin' up on the Lift," he says matter-of-factly. "Oh," you deflate, your chance at mischief extinguished like a little flame. "Ah, well, $firstname. You'll get me next time. D'you want to look at the Veil with me? I got the best view //ever// here."<<else>>"Seems pretty normal to me," you shrug. Sam squints, not expecting a retort. "That's 'cause you //live// here!" "Still normal!" You fire back, and he snickers. "Agree to disagree, $samNick. D'you want to look at the Veil with me? I got the best view //ever// here."<</if>><</if>> [[🌞+ "Okay," you smile, shuffling down to lay next to him.|Chap2Scene185a][$obvPos to "lay"]] <<if $samRomance > 1>>[[🔥🌞 You freeze. "I--I don't think I should..." (Cautious ++)|Chap2Scene185b][$cautious to $cautious + 2, $obvPos to "sit"]] [[🔥🌞 You'd been hoping for a chance to be close to Sam again, and here it is. You lie next to him happily.|Chap2Scene185c][$obvPos to "lay"]]<<else>>//You are not romantically interested enough in Sam to choose these options.//<</if>> [[You'll just sit down, apart from Sam.|Chap2Scene185d][$obvPos to "sit"]] [["Is that alright?" You ask hesitantly. (Cautious +)|Chap2Scene185e][$cautious to $cautious + 1, $obvPos to "lay"]]

Sam enthusiastically slides one of his cushions over for you to use as a headrest, patting it before you settle on the floor. He bumps your booted foot with his own playfully, smiling contentedly with his arms folded over his chest. [[Next|Chap2Scene186a]]

Sam snorts. "Why not, $samNick? We won't get struck by lightning, or anything. Promise." You don't budge, something in your stomach twisting and fluttering. "I'll just ... sit next to you, instead." His lips twist. "You'll hurt your neck doin' that, but if you say so..." You //do// say so! Lying next to Sam just isn't doable. Not a chance. <<if $samCrushrealise == "y">>Your feelings for the boy, while you aren't //entirely// certain what they are, are surely the reason for this sudden bout of nerves.<<else>>You wish you knew why you keep feeling sudden bouts of nerves around him like this...<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene186a]]

<<if $samRomance > 1>>Sam grins giddily at your decision to lie right next to him, bumping your elbow with his own and shuffling his makeshift headrest over to his left in order for you to put your head on it as well.<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>Sam smiles at your decision to lie right next to him, bumping your elbow with his own and sliding one of the cushions that make up his headrest over to you, letting you lay with some modicum of comfort.<<else>><</if>> <<if $samCrushrealise == "y">>At times like this, being close with Sam just feels //right//. It must have something to do with what $mentorTermChild talked about, a few weeks ago...<<else>>At times like this, being close with Sam just feels //right//. You aren't sure what the reason for it is, but you don't mind it one bit.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene186a]]

"You want a cushion?" The boy asks, ignoring your decision. For a moment you don't answer, until the base of your back starts to hurt //just// a little bit. Hard wood doesn't make the comfiest seat--or headrest, in Sam's case--so you hold out a hand, which soon finds itself filled with a plush cushion. [[Next|Chap2Scene186a]]

"Why wouldn't it be?" Sam makes a confused face, dragging one of his pillows out from under his head and sliding it across the floor to you. Worries dashed away, you kneel on the floor and gingerly plant yourself down, laying near a victorious-looking Sam. It isn't at all comfortable, but the view you get might just make up for that. [[Next|Chap2Scene186a]]

"This's got to be the best view in the city, $samNick. //In the whole world//, even," Sam mutters breathlessly, entranced by the swirling display of celestial might above you. The sun must have just begun to dip beneath the horizon on the surface, now, turning the sky //truly// dark and leaving only a swirling astral ocean to focus on. <<if $optimistic < 50>>"I wish the window were bigger," you say glumly, "but it's a good view no matter what."<<else>>"It is, isn't it?" You smile proudly. This thing, formerly just yours and Archer's to share, is now Sam's, too. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>Sharing parts of your life with your neighbour simply feels good, like he's really becoming a part of it. Since you haven't had much in the way of friends until now, it's quite something.<<else>>It feels like a small step to the far-off possibility of him being your //friend//. Perhaps. You aren't too sure at the moment. But this is ... nice, all the same.<</if>><</if>> Sam sighs contentedly. "Yup," he says in response, though he still looks conflicted about something. His eyes look strained, and not just from the Veil's bright light, casting your faces in a multitude of shifting colours. <<if $obvPos == "lay">>[["Did you want to talk about something?" You say conspiratorially, rolling over to face him.|Chap2Scene187a1L]]<<else>>[["Did you want to talk about something?" You say conspiratorially, leaning over to look at him.|Chap2Scene187a1S]]<</if>> [[Stay silent.|Chap2Scene187a2]]

"...Why?" Sam asks with a suspicious note to his voice, looking at you by his side. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"You've been looking strange for a while. I thought ... you might want to?" A hint of mirth flickers in his eyes. "That's a rude thing to say, $samNick." "Not rude if it's true," you retort. That tickles the boy, and after a surprised giggle he admits; "Yeah, I have been thinkin' about ... things. You don't care if we talk instead of looking at the Veil?" You snort quietly. "Why can't we do both?" "Oh, yeah!"<<else>>"You've had this //strange// look almost all day. You're thinking about //something//." "You shouldn't call people strange, $firstname," Sam says, smiling slightly but falling short of his usual grin. "Don't change the subject," you sigh. He hums quietly, blowing a frustrated puff of air out of his nose. "Okay, you're right. I have been thinkin' about things. You really don't care if we just talk?" "We can still watch the Veil; that way we won't get bored." Now Sam properly grins. "Right!"<</if>> [[Make conversation. "How are your friends?"|Chap2Scene188a1]] [[Make conversation. "Is the shop doing well?"|Chap2Scene188a2]] [[Make conversation. "Did you like the fair?"|Chap2Scene188a3]] [[You don't know what to say, honestly. Let Sam speak first.|Chap2Scene188a4]]

"...Why?" Sam asks with a suspicious note to his voice, glancing up at you. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"You've been looking strange for a while. I thought ... you might want to?" A hint of mirth in his eyes. "That's a rude thing to say, $samNick." "Not rude if it's true," you retort, shuffling around on your little seat. That tickles the boy, and after a surprised giggle he admits: "Yeah, I have been thinkin' about things. You don't care if we talk instead of looking at the Veil?" You chuckle. "Why can't we do both?" "Oh, yeah!"<<else>>"You've had this //strange// look almost all day. You're thinking about //something//." "You shouldn't call people strange, $firstname," Sam says, smiling slightly but falling short of his usual grin. "Don't change the subject," you sigh. He hums quietly, blowing a frustrated puff of air out of his nose. "Okay, you're right. I have been thinkin' about things. You really don't care if we just talk?" "We can still watch the Veil; that way we won't get bored." Now Sam properly grins. "Right!"<</if>> [[Make conversation. "How are your friends?"|Chap2Scene188a1]] [[Make conversation. "Is the shop doing well?"|Chap2Scene188a2]] [[Make conversation. "Did you like the fair?"|Chap2Scene188a3]] [[You don't know what to say, honestly. Let Sam speak first.|Chap2Scene188a4]]

<<if $samFriends == "notFriends">>Sam's face contorts in confusion. "What d'you care about them? You've only seen 'em once or twice..." You shrug. "I just wanted to ask?" He snickers, thankfully. "You're //real// bad at talking to people sometimes, $samNick. S'okay, so am I lots of times!" Without missing a beat, Sam immediately begins to answer your initial question. "I've been making so many friends all over. Some of 'em aren't //my// friends, they just know one of the kids I like, but I think that counts..." <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"I think it does," you agree with him, and you share a snicker.<<else>>"Whatever you say," you mumble under your breath.<</if>> "Anyway!" Sam says conclusively. "We've been buildin' up my den in the woods. Pa said he'd drag some old chairs an' whatever he can't sell so we can be comfy! You should //really// think about coming over some time. Even if you don't like everybody else!"<<elseif $samFriends == "like" or $samFriends == "likeR">>Sam smiles, confused. "You mean //our// friends, $samNick? You forgot about them or something?" Well, //no//, but they're more Sam's friends than yours. Of course you know Marin, Yvette, Artus--from the big manor, as Sam often reminds everybody--and all the rest, but they seem more drawn to Sam's nature than yours. <<if $cold < 50>>You aren't sure why, you can be just as friendly as he is!<<else>>You suppose it makes sense, but it sort of stings.<</if>> Still, you are on good terms with all of them, and you'd not have known there were so many other children in Sola if not for the boy. "Well, they're all okay," he says after a moment's thought, noticing that you weren't saying anything else. "I think Marin got be ... betrothed? Like where you promise to marry someone once you're old? //Ech//," he shivers, hugging his chest with a sour expression. "What if you ended up hatin' each other?" His sheer disdain at the idea makes you giggle. "You should ask Marin that when we see him." "I think I will, $samNick!"<<elseif $samFriends == "dislike" or "dislikeR">>Sam looks a little bit sad at your question. "I thought you weren't friends with 'em?" "I still want to know," you shrug. "Well, they're all okay," he says after a moment's thought. "I think Marin got be ... betrothed? Like where you promise to marry someone once you're old? //Ech//," he shivers, hugging his chest with a sour expression. "What if you ended up hatin' each other?" His sheer disdain at the idea makes you giggle. "You should ask Marin that next time you see him." "I think I will, $samNick!"<<elseif $samFriends == "jealousR">>Sam frowns confusedly at your question. "Did you make friends with 'em or something while I wasn't looking?" <<if $volatile > 50>>"No," you snip defensively--//what if he figures out why you don't like his friends//--before clarifying, "I just wanted to ask. I couldn't make friends with them anyway. //They only like you.//"<<else>>"Not likely. They only like you," you mutter sadly.<</if>> <<if $samRomance > 1>>A second passes, and Sam blinks at you with a troubled look on his face. Does he //know// why you aren't fond of his friends? Does he secretly wish they weren't there too? Does he--<<else>>A second passes, and Sam smiles amusedly. Does he //know// why you aren't fond of his friends? <<if $samCrushrealise == "y">>Does he feel for one of them what you feel for him?<<else>>Does he suspect something about you?<</if>> Does he--<</if>> Your thoughts are interrupted by Sam, of course.<<if $samRelationship > 50>>"You like me too! Lotsa people do, $samNick. I want to be friends with everyone, but it's hard," Sam sighs.<<else>>"Hey, it ain't my fault! I think we could be friends if we tried real hard, that way you might get on better with my friends ...<</if>> Anyway!" He says conclusively. "We've been buildin' up my den in the woods. Pa said he'd drag some old chairs an' whatever he can't sell so we can be comfy! You should //really// think about coming over some time. Even if you don't like everybody else!"<<else>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

Sam keeps his gaze fixed on the Veil for a moment, distracted. You repeat your question <<if $patient < 50>>with a touch more urgency<<else>><</if>> and he starts. "Huh? I don't know. Lots of people come in, but most of them don't take anything. Pa says they're ordering things instead, so it must be doing alright," he gives a reassuring smile--for whom, you aren't exactly sure. "I think he's going to let me help out properly soon," Sam speaks again, an excited glint in his blue eyes. "Like running with deliveries an' all that. We've a proper driver for them now, so I want to ride with him! I'd see //so// much of the city that way, wouldn't I?" <<if $optimistic > 50>>"That would be nice," you agree, and Sam's grin widens at your agreement.<<else>>"It's not that special," you say, slightly bemused. "You only think that 'cause you've lived here forever, $samNick," he chides good-naturedly. "For me? Sola's the special-est place I've ever seen."<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

<<if $chap2fairevents > 0>>Sam grins. "It was so fun!" Then his smile falters. "Uh--before what ... happened, obviously!" "I know," you whisper quietly, looking at the distant moon for a moment. <<if $chap2MagicTentItem != "none">>[[Sam reaches into his pocket, fishing out the toy soldier he got from the magic tent.|Chap2SamShowToy]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $chap2FortuneTeller == 1>>[[You bring up the fortune teller's tent that you visited with him.|Chap2SamTalkFT]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $chap2StrengthTest == 1>>[[You talk about the results of the strength test at the fair.|Chap2SamTalkST]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $chap2LightShow == 1>>[[You feel inclined to bring up the light show that you watched at the fair.|Chap2SamTalkLS]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>> <<if $chap2ArcheryTent == 1>>[[You want to talk about the archery competition that happened at the fair.|Chap2SamTalkAT]]<<else>>//Choice unavailable.//<</if>><<else>>Sam snickers. "Well, we didn't really do anything at the //fair//, but I liked some of what we watched." The smile he'd been wearing falters. "Uh--before what ... happened, obviously!" "I know," you whisper quietly, looking at the distant moon for a moment. "I think they should just do more, like, running an' athlete stuff an' all that," Sam sighs, looking away. "Not everything should be about //fighting// all the time. The Festival's meant to be about everyone being good to one another 'cause of Sola, right?" He frowns, speaking louder. "I think it's..." Sam squeezes his eyes shut, stopping himself. "Never mind. Sorry," he murmurs, growing quiet once more. [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]<</if>>

After a few moments of Silence that Sam spends apparently deep in thought about something, the boy takes a deep breath. "...I think I want to tell you somethin'," he says <<if $samRelationship > 50>>with a smile that seems more for reassuring himself than you.<<else>>with an uncertain look on his face, as if he can't quite believe what he's about to do.<</if>> <<if $samRomance > 1>>Your heart leaps into your throat. //Does he know?!//<<elseif $samRomance > 0>>Butterflies start to flap around in your stomach again. //Does he suspect something?!//<<else>>You wait for him to speak again, frozen in place.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190b]]

"Pa said ... your parents went away too, but not like my ma. He said I shouldn't talk about it to you," Sam wipes an errant tear from his cheek, letting it soak into the sleeve of his tunic. "I hope they come back for you, $firstname, I really do," he smiles sadly. "...Even if my ma can't come back to me." "I never even met my real parents, but I still think about them. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia help me remember. I don't think he'll let you forget her--I don't think he'd want himself to, either."

Sam shuffles around uncomfortably, until he turns his head to look at you imploringly. "Would you mind if ... if we talked about somethin'? I'm not good with quiet," he chews his lip, chuckling quietly. "I know that's a surprise." <<if $cold > 50>>"What about?" You half-grumble, sighing. You'd hoped for some quiet after all that happened today...<<else>>"What about?" You ask with a small moment's hesitation. You'll hardly turn down a chance for conversation, but Sam would typically just ... start talking. Asking is unlike the boy.<</if>> He shrugs, a difficult thing to do without looking silly when laid down as he is, so he sits up<<if $obvPos == "sit">>, now level with you.<<else>>, and you follow him so that you're level.<</if>> "Anything. Something? I'm not sure," he admits sheepishly, fidgeting with his hands. [[You may as well make conversation first. "How are your friends?"|Chap2Scene188a1]] [[You may as well make conversation first. "Is the shop doing well?"|Chap2Scene188a2]] [[You may as well make conversation first. "Did you like the fair?"|Chap2Scene188a3]] [[You don't know what to say, honestly. Let Sam speak first.|Chap2Scene188a4]]

"Why, $firstname, Callen and Sonia did not think to tell you?" They grin sharply. "I am taking you," they pause dramatically, eyes glinting, "to see how Empyrean steel is made." [[What?!|DemoEnd]]

The conversation lulls when Sam quiets. Like earlier, there's almost a shift in his behaviour. His eyes dart around, looking at everything in the room but you. "Can I say something else?" He asks quietly. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"Um ... yes?" You confirm questioningly.<<else>>"If you must," you mumble.<</if>> "Don't interrupt me, or anything, or tell me I'm being a baby. Please," Sam almost begs, a sudden desperation in his voice. <<if $samRelationship > 55>>"You're my friend, so I want to say it to you."<<elseif $samRelationship < 55 and $samRelationship > 45>>"You wanted to take me //here//, so even if we aren't really friends, I'd like to be. I want to say it to you."<<else>>"You wanted to take me //here//, so even if I don't ... know //why//, I want to say it to you."<</if>> <<if $cold > 50>>"You're acting strange," you murmur, perturbed by his strange, suddenly earnest behaviour.<<else>>"What's wrong?" You ask, voice full of concern. He's never acted like //this//.<</if>> "I really like it here. All my friends, the city, the forest. <<if $samRelationship > 55 or $samRomance > 1>>You,<<else>>Everything,<</if>>" he whispers, shame contorting his bubbly features like a sharp, sudden pain. "But ... sometimes I feel bad that I do." [["You miss Bivia?" You ask.|Chap2Scene191a]] [["Why are you complaining?" You ask, put off. "Sola is amazing." (Cold +)|Chap2Scene191b][$cold to $cold + 2]] [[🌞+ "That makes sense," you smile reassuringly. "I'd miss Sola if I left, too."|Chap2Scene191c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]

"What happened to your eye?" "A channeling accident," the tall mage replies smoothly, running a finger along the skin beneath his ruby prosthetic. "The Veil provides a great deal of power, but it should never be taken for granted, especially by upstart mages with more bluster than sense." Dalio winks with his false eye, leaning back in his seat again. "Now, I believe your chaperone has found you. The jig is up, I fear," he laughs, nodding at Archer who quite suddenly appears at your side. They don't look too happy.

Memories of the rainbow-toothed mage and their sleek grey cat flash through your mind, as if they happened in a distant past, to someone completely different. The boy sets the toy on the floor and grins, cheering one word. "Walk!" At his insistence, the toy whirrs to life again, walking in a clean circle in a consistent, endless march. "What did you get again?" Sam asks, peering at you. <<if $chap2MagicTentItem == "glowingring">>You were already wearing the ring you got, so you hold out your hand and rub your other palm on top of the ring's stone for a few moments, the pale blue glow increasing the more you do it. Sam's awe-filled grin is lit up when you remove your hand. "I bet that'll be useful, $samNick. Mine just ... walks around." <<if $cautious < 50>>You shrug. "I like it, but a lantern would be brighter." "Can't fit a lantern on your finger, can you?" Sam reasons, grinning--he knows he made a good point there. ...So do you.<<else>>"Regretting it, huh?" You grin, happy at your own purchase. "Nope!" Sam beams at his still-marching soldier. "I'll play with this lots, so I don't care that it ain't so useful. Maybe I can scare someone with it or something..."<</if>><<elseif $chap2MagicTentItem == "marble">>You fish the marble out of your pocket, rubbing it around between your palms quickly. It springs up and out of your hand as soon as you splay your palms, hovering above your hand as if on a string. "Still wish I'd seen that first," Sam marvels, tapping the marble with a finger and giggling as it wobbles back into place, gradually losing its levitational power and dropping back into your palm with a tiny smacking sound.<<else>>He smiles as you pull out the hairpin, though you get the sense he still isn't particularly interested in it. "Can you make it change colours again?" The pin sits in your hand, $favcolour jewel nestled within its cool metal shell. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You smile at Sam. "Pick one!"<<else>>"...Choose a colour," you offer begrudgingly.<</if>> <<if $favcolour != "yellow">>Sam's eyes narrow in thought before he settles on a choice; "Yellow," he says affirmatively. "That's my favourite!" <<if $samRomance > 0>>You idly wonder if you have anything yellow.<<else>>Well, that's good to know.<</if>> You focus on the little jewel, currently a deep $favcolour, and will it to slowly change into a vibrant, almost luminous yellow. You show it to Sam, and the boy claps his hands, giving a little cheer. "It's almost like being able to do magic yourself. I bet Weavers have enchanted weapons, an' all that, don't they?" "They do," you confirm. <<if $cold < 50>>"Uncle Callen once used a shield that could grow a //bigger// shield and wrap around him if he was surrounded!"<<else>>"Uncle Callen had a shield that could make a bigger shield around him," you say informatively. "Like a shell, I suppose..."<</if>> "Wow!" Sam balks, impressed. "Does he still have it?" The boy is surely imagining the sorts of situations you could get into with a magical shell around you. Most of them probably involve rolling down a very steep hill. You wince. "He ... lost it." Sam frowns, disappointed. "Aww..."<<elseif $favcolour == "yellow">>Sam's eyes narrow in thought before he settles on a choice; "Blue," he says affirmatively. "Yellow's my favourite, but blue's up there too. Oh--that means we like the same colour!" He grins, just coming to the realisation. <<if $samRelationship > 50>>You like Sam, he likes you, and you both like yellow. How fun!<<else>>...Perhaps you'll choose a different favourite later on.<</if>> You turn your focus to the little jewel, currently a deep $favcolour, and will it to slowly change into a deep, saturated blue. It almost looks like a sapphire, except not as sparkly. You show it to Sam, and the boy claps his hands, giving a little cheer. "It's almost like being able to do magic yourself. I bet Weavers have enchanted weapons, an' all that, dont they?" "They do," you confirm. <<if $cold < 50>>"Uncle Callen once used a shield that could grow a //bigger// shield and wrap around him if he was surrounded!"<<else>>"Uncle Callen had a shield that could make a bigger shield around him," you say informatively. "Like a shell, I suppose..."<</if>> "Wow!" Sam balks, impressed. "Does he still have it?" The boy is surely imagining the sorts of situations you could get into with a magical shell around you. Most of them probably involve rolling down a very steep hill. You wince. "He ... lost it." Sam frowns, disappointed. "Aww..."<</if>></if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

<<if $samRelationship > 50>>"...Alright?" You confirm questioningly.<<else>>"If you must," you mumble."<</if>> "Don't interrupt me, or anything, or tell me I'm being a baby. Please," Sam almost begs, a sudden desperation in his voice. <<if $samRelationship > 55>>"You're my friend, so I want to say it to you."<<elseif $samRelationship < 55 and $samRelationship > 45>>"You wanted to take me //here//, so even if we aren't really friends, I'd like to be. I want to say it to you."<<else>>"You wanted to take me //here//, so even if I don't ... know //why//, I want to say it to you."<</if>> <<if $cold > 50>>"You're acting strange," you murmur, perturbed by his strange, suddenly earnest behaviour.<<else>>"What's wrong?" You ask, voice full of concern. He's never acted like //this//.<</if>> "I really like it here. All my friends, the city, the forest. <<if $samRelationship > 55 or $samRomance > 1>>You,<<else>>Everything,<</if>>" he whispers, shame contorting his bubbly features like a sharp, sudden pain. "But ... sometimes I feel bad that I do." [["You miss Bivia?" You ask.|Chap2Scene191a]] [["Why are you complaining?" You ask, put off. "Sola is amazing." (Cold +)|Chap2Scene191b][$cold to $cold + 2]] [[🌞+ "That makes sense," you smile reassuringly. "I'd miss Sola if I left, too."|Chap2Scene191c][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1]]

"She was //so scary//," Sam whispers, as if the seeing-witch might somehow hear your conversation. "I almost screamed when she took my hair!" He muffles his consequent giggle with a hand, eyes squinted conspiratorially. <<if $chap2FTKnow == "no">><<if $cold < 50>>"I knew I was right to stay out!" You grin cheekily.<<else>>"Now you see why I didn't go in," you say flatly.<</if>> "You still should've," Sam counters, frowning playfully. "If I have to get my hair pulled out, so do you!" <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"I'm not letting you take my hair," you inform him laughingly.<<else>>"Don't even think about it," you warn him with a sharp look.<</if>> "I wasn't going to," he drawls, a cheeky glint in his eye telling you otherwise.<<else>><<if $cold < 50>>"It scared me, too!" You agree heartily. Sam looks relieved that you feel the same way--it would normally seem strange, him being //happy// that you were scared too, but you understand.<<else>>"Wasn't //that// bad," you mutter. "If you say so, $samNick<<if $samNick == "Screamy">>. I know what you're //really// like. I haven't forgotten how loud you screamed when I snuck up on you!" Sam teasingly reminds you.<<else>>," Sam shakes his head, chuckling.<</if>><</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

<<if $stresult == "won">>Sam brightens. "I //still// can't believe you did it, $samNick! Nobody'll believe a little $child managed to do one of those things." <<if $cold > 50>>"I'm not little," you prickle, eyes narrowing. "Nobody would know you're a year older than me."<<else>>"We aren't that far apart, Sam," you chuckle, rolling your eyes. "So don't call me little!"<</if>> "In my world, where everyone's //so much older// than you," Sam teases, grinning, "you are little!" "//And// I hit the bell, when you couldn't," you point out. "Wellll," Sam draws the sound out while trying not to laugh. "I suppose that makes you equal--maybe a bit little, still." He crosses his arms with a smug look.<<elseif $stresult == "lost">><<if $mentor == "Callen">>"I thought Miss Sonia'd be able to get it. She looked right proud of herself, didn't she?" Sam snickers. "She takes things like that so seriously," you agree, <<if $soniaClose > 50>>smiling. She's 'brazenly competitive', according to Archer.<<else>>with a note of distaste in your voice. She's 'disturbingly competitive', according to Archer.<</if>> "I think she wanted the money, too." "Don't Weavers have piles of money, though?" Sam asks earnestly. You certainly haven't seen any in your house... <<if $sarcastic > 50>>Laughing, you say, "Well, I haven't found ours yet..."<<elseif $sarcastic < 40>>"I would've found it by now," you reply, frowning.<<else>>"Some do," you agree. There are Bladeweavers who, through decades of work, are supposedly rich enough to rival nobles--even without being such themselves. Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, however, are not that. Uncle Callen comes from an old clan, though he doesn't seem to have inherited anything from it. He ... doesn't talk about it often. "But not us."<</if>> "Oh, well," Sam shrugs the disappointment away like a loose, light cloak. "It was funny seein' her work so hard for it, either way!"<<else>>"I thought Mister Callen'd be able to get it! He was //soo// close," Sam sighs dramatically. "Maybe his head's still hurtin'. I might not be as strong as normal if I hit my head like that." <<if $callenClose > 50>>"He ... shouldn't have tried it, I don't think," you murmur. "He //is// really strong, but I think he just wanted to show off, or something. That man //was// rude to us..."<<else>>"It was silly to try, with his head," you grumble. "Uncle Callen always tries to act like he's fine when he isn't..."<</if>> Sam giggles. "Miss Sonia told me once, she's the brains //and// the muscle. Mister Callen's there for decoration, she said." You know that isn't true, and so does she, really. He might play the fool much of the time, but you know Uncle Callen's like the foundation of a house; strong, stable, with a lot weighing him down. You just hope what happened at the exhibition won't put yet more weight on his strained shoulders.<</if>><<else>>Sam smiles. "I think you should'a tried the test, $samNick. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>I knew Miss Sonia'd get it, though! She looked right proud of herself, didn't she?" He snickers. "She takes things like that so seriously," you agree, <<if $soniaClose > 50>>smiling. She's 'brazenly competitive', according to Archer.<<else>>with a note of distaste in your voice. She's 'disturbingly competitive', according to Archer.<</if>> "I think she wanted the money, too." "Don't Weavers have piles of money, though?" Sam asks earnestly. You certainly haven't seen any in your house... <<if $sarcastic > 50>>Laughing, you say, "Well, I haven't found ours yet..."<<elseif $sarcastic < 40>>"I would've found it by now," you reply, frowning.<<else>>"Some do," you agree. There are Bladeweavers who, through decades of work, are supposedly rich enough to rival nobles--even without being such themselves. Aunt Sonia and Uncle Callen, however, are not that. Uncle Callen comes from an old clan, though he doesn't seem to have inherited anything from it. He ... doesn't talk about it often. "But not us."<</if>> "Oh, well," Sam shrugs the disappointment away like a loose, light cloak. "It was funny seein' her work so hard for it, either way!"<<else>>"I thought Mister Callen'd be able to get it! He was //soo// close," Sam sighs dramatically. "Maybe his head's still hurtin'. I might not be as strong as normal if I hit my head like that." <<if $callenClose > 50>>"He ... shouldn't have tried it, I don't think," you murmur. "He //is// really strong, but I think he just wanted to show off, or something. That man //was// rude to us..."<<else>>"It was silly to try, with his head," you grumble. "Uncle Callen always tries to act like he's fine when he isn't..."<</if>> Sam giggles. "Miss Sonia told me once, she's the brains //and// the muscle. Mister Callen's there for decoration, she said." You know that isn't true, and so does she, really. He might play the fool much of the time, but you know Uncle Callen's like the foundation of a house; strong, stable, with a lot weighing him down. You just hope what happened at the exhibition won't put yet more weight on his strained shoulders.<</if>><</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

"I wish we could have stayed there longer," Sam huffs sadly. <<if $samRelationship > 55>>"I thought you'd like it," you smile softly at him. Sam might be a rough-and-tumble boy much of the time, but from the short time you've known him, you gather that he //does// in fact enjoy some quiet time--in moderation, of course.<<else>>"You liked it that much?" You ask, confused. You don't really see Sam //enjoying// having to lay down and watch something for a long time. Though, you suppose, that's exactly what he's been doing here, and he seems ... mostly fine.<</if>> Sam nods strongly, his night-darkened blonde curls springing around loosely. "It was really good! I knew that Daegal story already, but it was really somethin' seeing it like that. I liked it better than the book!" [["I'd rather read the story," you disagree with him.|Chap2SamTalkLS2a]] [[🌞- "Reading isn't that hard, you know," you snort. (Cold +)|Chap2SamTalkLS2b][$cold to $cold + 1]] [["I liked it as a light-show too," you smile.|Chap2SamTalkLS2c]]

<<if $chap2ArcheryComp == "won">>Sam grins at the reminder of that fateful competition, eyes twinkling as he stares at the winner's medal still pinned to your clothing. "That Clarice girl was nice. You were really good for bein' able to beat her, though," he says, speaking as if informing you of new information. "D'you think you'd be, um, an archer Weaver or something? Once you get there, I mean." You recite what you last heard on the topic. "Bladeweavers use bows, but they don't get Empyrean arrows or such. It would be wasteful, and the arrows would drop once you fired them," you say--just as informatively. "That's only if they've had that //thing// done to 'em that means it gets heavier!" Sam protests, looking focused. "This man came through town one day, and he let me hold his greensteel knife for a bit! It was just like holdin' a regular knife, 'cept it was ... green." "How did you know about that?" Your eyes widen in confusion. Even actual Bladeweavers don't talk about the process that makes Empyrean special--more so than it normally is--openly at all, let alone a young boy. Sam crosses his arms, jutting out his chin smugly. "I know things too, $samNick." [[You have nothing to say to that...|Chap2Scene190a]]<<elseif $chap2ArcheryComp == "draw">>Sam grins at the reminder of that excruciatingly close match. "That Clarice girl was nice. You were really good for bein' able to do as well as her," he says, speaking as if informing you of new information. "D'you think you'd be, um, an archer Weaver or something? Once you get there, I mean." You recite what you last heard on the topic. "Bladeweavers use bows, but they don't get Empyrean arrows or such. It would be wasteful, and the arrows would drop once you fired them," you say--just as informatively. "That's only if they've had that //thing// done to 'em that means it gets heavier!" Sam protests, looking focused. "This man came through town one day, and he let me hold his greensteel knife for a bit! It was just like holdin' a regular knife, 'cept it was ... green." "How did you know about that?" Your eyes widen in confusion. Even actual Bladeweavers don't talk about the process that makes Empyrean special--more so than it normally is--openly at all, let alone a young boy. Sam crosses his arms, jutting out his chin smugly. "I know things too, $samNick." [[You have nothing to say to that...|Chap2Scene190a]]<<else>>Sam lets out a puff of air at the reminder of that match, looking suddenly frazzled. "That Clarice girl was nice--//and// real good at archery," he says, speaking as if informing you of new information. "D'you think there are archer Weavers? I bet she'd make a good one." You recite what you last heard on the topic. "Bladeweavers use bows, but they don't get Empyrean arrows or such. It would be wasteful, and the arrows would drop once you fired them," you say--just as informatively. "That's only if they've had that //thing// done to 'em that means it gets heavier!" Sam protests, looking focused. "This man came through town one day, and he let me hold his greensteel knife for a bit! It was just like holdin' a regular knife, 'cept it was ... green." "How did you know about that?" Your eyes widen in confusion. Even actual Bladeweavers don't talk about the process that makes Empyrean special--more so than it normally is--openly at all, let alone a young boy. Sam crosses his arms, jutting out his chin smugly. "I know things too, $samNick." [[You have nothing to say to that...|Chap2Scene190a]]<</if>>

"Hey, good for you," he smiles genuinely. "I'm not so good at readin', so I like to watch stories instead. <<if $samRomance > 1>>Maybe ... I'll try to read some more. I'll ask pa!" //What sparked that idea?// Is all you can think. Sam smiles widely, cheeks pink--surely from the strain of smiling so much. You think.<<else>>"You got books, and I got the good stuff," he flashes you a sly grin.<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

"We don't have to like the same things," Sam drones as if repeating a lecture from his father; Perhaps he's had one too many arguments about trifling things such as this in the past. You imagine he has, honestly-- the boy isn't difficult to disagree with. "And it is for me," he adds with a shrug. [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

"Right?!" Sam cheers, grinning. "I knew you had good taste, $samNick. <<if $samRelationship > 55>>You're my friend, for one thing!"<<else>>You like it up here, for one thing!"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene190a]]

"I think so..." Sam sighs, a sound mixed with melancholy and a small amount of relief, and something else--you aren't sure what. Wisftulness? <<if $samRelationship > 50>>"It must've been hard moving so far away," you offer with a supportive smile.<<else>>You have little else to say, other than; "...That's rough."<</if>> "Maybe." With the single word, Sam's shoulders slump. "Sometimes I think I'm just being ... childish. I don't know." <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Well, you //are// a child," you bite your lip, stifling a laugh. Sam's face breaks in a small grin for a moment, and he shakes his head. "I know, but that's not what I mean."<<else>>"Childish about what? Being homesick?" "I don't think it's bein' homesick ... That's not what I mean."<</if>> <<if $volatile > 50>>"So what //do// you mean?" You ask him directly.<<else>>"You can tell me, you know," you offer. "It's alright."<</if>> Sam's shoulders sieze as if readying himself for a great feat of acrobatics--perhaps a cartwheel you've seen him practicing in the back yard of his home on more than one occasion--but no springy movement comes, no leap or flip follows his tensing. When he finally speaks, it's in a scratchy, sombre voice. [["I miss my ma..." Sam's shoulders fall weakly.|Chap2Scene192a]]

"Yeah," Sam agrees quietly, though he looks a bit more frustrated than before. "I don't mean it's bad, honest!" "So you //do// like Sola, but, what?" You ask, eyebrow raised questioningly. "I--I don't know!" Sam says, exasperated, almost yelling. He doesn't seem angry at you, rather at himself, for not //knowing//. "I'm just being ... childish." <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Well, you //are// a child," you bite your lip, stifling a laugh. Sam's face breaks in a small grin for a moment, and he shakes his head. "I know, but that's not what I mean."<<else>>"Childish about what? Being homesick?" Sam genuinely considers your question, blinking in thought before answering carefully. It's the slowest you've heard him speak. "I don't think it's bein' homesick ... That's not what I mean."<</if>> <<if $volatile > 50>>"So what //do// you mean?" You ask him directly.<<else>>"You can tell me, you know," you offer. "It's alright."<</if>> Sam's shoulders sieze as if readying himself for a great feat of acrobatics--perhaps a cartwheel you've seen him practicing in the back yard of his home on more than one occasion--but no springy movement comes, no leap or flip follows his tensing. When he finally speaks, it's in a scratchy, sombre voice. [["I miss my ma..." Sam's shoulders fall weakly.|Chap2Scene192a]]

All of a sudden, Sam shuffles to sit up, <<if $obvPos == "sit">>leaving him level with you.<<else>>and you follow him, leaving the two of you at the same level once more.<</if>> The boy speaks deathly-quiet, whispering despite Archer having no chance of hearing. "Before we came here, my ... my ma went away. Forever. I don't know if you knew..." He folds his arms across his chest tightly, tucking his hands into his armpits, although it's hardly cold. "Pa said she got sick, an' I know she was 'cause she got real pale and quiet, before..." You feel cold, all of a sudden, as the realisation comes over you; Sam only came here with his father. Neither had even //mentioned// a mother. You'd assumed she might just have been absent, and had no idea his mother was--he never gave any sign, never said anything, did he? Sam had been so ... cheerful the whole time he was here. Was today what finally broke his walls down? Sam takes a deep breath, glancing at you with something dark in his eyes. "//I saw her,//" he whispers shamefully, even though there's not a chance Archer will hear. "I always woke her up in the mornings 'cause pa went out to work in the shop, but she wouldn't..." He stops and glances up at the stars through the observatory's ceiling, eyes following the gentle motion of the Veil as it streaks across the night sky. Deep purples, greens and blues flow in a stream of undistilled energy, gentle despite its almighty power. "She always watched it with me. 'Til she couldn't stay up so much anymore... "Sometimes I think we shouldn't have gone away. But I know it hurts pa if I'm sad, so I try not to be. Before we left everyone said I should be strong for him," his cheeks are flushed a ruddy shade, and he blinks feverishly. "And that ma wouldn't want either of us to be hurting, but..." Sam chokes back a sudden sob. "What was so bad about home?" [[Your face crumples in sympathy, and you quietly say, "I'm really sorry about your mother, Sam..."|Chap2Scene193a]] [[🌞++ In an instant, you throw your arms around Sam's shoulders, drawing him into a hug.|Chap2Scene193b][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 2]] [["...Are you angry at your father?" You ask quietly.|Chap2Scene193c]] [["Do you want to go back to Abria?" You ask, hoping he'll say no.|Chap2Scene193d]]

A distant thought springs up, then. When your parents //do// come back for you, what will happen? You're to be a Bladeweaver one day, of course, but will they allow you to stay on that path? <<if $chap2BWExcited == "yes">>You hope so.<<elseif $chap2BWExcited == "unsure">>You don't know if you want to find out.<<else>>You hope not.<</if>> /*Do they know?*/ Sam's answer pulls you back into the moment. "Thanks, $firstname," he smiles in gratitude. "Sometimes I think I'm being ... childish, or something. I don't know." <<if $sarcastic > 50>>"Well, you //are// a child," you bite your lip, stifling a laugh. Sam's face breaks in a small grin for a moment, and he shakes his head. "I know, but that's not what I mean."<<else>>"Childish about what? Being homesick?" "I don't think it's bein' homesick ... That's not what I mean."<</if>> <<if $volatile > 50>>"So what //do// you mean?" You ask him directly.<<else>>"You can tell me, you know," you offer. "It's alright."<</if>> Sam's shoulders sieze as if readying himself for a great feat of acrobatics--perhaps a cartwheel you've seen him practicing in the back yard of his home on more than one occasion--but no springy movement comes, no leap or flip follows his tensing. When he finally speaks, it's in a scratchy, sombre voice. [["I miss my ma..." Sam's shoulders fall weakly.|Chap2Scene192a]]

Sam stiffens, surprised by your quick reaction, but practically melts into you after a moment, crying weakly. His face is buried into the crook of your neck. <<if $samRomance > 0>>Your heart would be jumping for joy, were the circumstances not ... //this//.<<else>><</if>> You rub Sam's back soothingly for a moment, and then he slowly, reluctantly, shifts of of your grip, looking sheepish. "...Thank you. I got your shoulder wet." You hardly even glance at the little spot. "I don't mind." A relieved smile passes over his pained features for a second. "Okay..." he breathes, ragged and uncomfortable. After a few moments, he speaks again. "Sometimes I think about what it'd be like if we went back," He smiles sadly through his tears, looking down at his hands. "My friends'd come and hug me, tell me everything that's happened. They all saw me and Pa off when we left..." <<if $optimistic > 50>>"You could visit one day?" You offer helpfully, but Sam's shoulders jerk upwards in a simple, dismissive shrug. "That'd just make things worse. I'd have to leave again. Leave ... her again."<<else>>You have nothing to say. You can't imagine what it would be like, having to leave your home like that so soon after losing someone you love. /*one day buddy lol*/ "I don't even want to visit," he admits, scowling. "'Cause then I'd have to go back eventually. I'd just be //leaving// again. Leaving ... her. I'm scared I'll forget what home was like, what she was like." <</if>> [[Sam sighs, finally looking at you.|Chap2Scene194a]]

"You--you didn't make her sick," Sam murmurs between sobs. "Nobody did. She just ... //went//. And nothin' could make her better..." "I don't have to be responsible to feel sorry," you counter, taking the boy by surprise. "I ... guess you're right. Now I'm sorry," he smiles for a moment. Soon after, he speaks again. "Sometimes I think about what it'd be like if we went back," He smiles sadly through his tears, looking down at his hands. "My friends'd come and hug me, tell me everything that's happened. They all saw me and Pa off when we left..." <<if $optimistic > 50>>"You could visit one day?" You offer helpfully, but Sam's shoulders jerk upwards in a simple, dismissive shrug. "That'd just make things worse. I'd have to leave again. Leave ... her again."<<else>>You have nothing to say. You can't imagine what it would be like, having to leave your home like that so soon after losing someone you love. /*one day buddy lol*/ "I don't even want to visit," he admits, scowling. "'Cause then I'd have to go back eventually. I'd just be //leaving// again. Leaving ... her. I'm scared I'll forget what home was like, what she was like." <</if>> [[Sam sighs, finally looking at you.|Chap2Scene194a]]

"No!" Sam exclaims, affronted that you'd even ask such a thing. "He didn't do anything--he moved us here 'cause we'd be better off," he frowns deeply despite his supportive words, tears flowing openly down his reddened cheeks. His bottom lip trembles. "I have t-to make sure he's okay." <<if $volatile > 50>>"I'd be angry if I was taken from my home after that..." "Well, I'm //not//," Sam snaps sharply.<<else>>"You really aren't angry?" "No, I'm //not//," Sam snaps sharply.<</if>> He looks surprised at his own reaction, and looks away, sniffling. After another moment, he speaks again. "Sometimes I think about what it'd be like if we went back," the boy smiles sadly through his tears, looking down at his hands. "My friends'd come and hug me, tell me everything that's happened. They all saw me and Pa off when we left..." <<if $optimistic > 50>>"You could visit one day?" You offer helpfully, but Sam's shoulders jerk upwards in a simple, dismissive shrug. "That'd just make things worse. I'd have to leave again. Leave ... her again."<<else>>You have nothing to say. You can't imagine what it would be like, having to leave your home like that so soon after losing someone you love. /*one day buddy lol*/ "I don't even want to visit," he admits, scowling. "'Cause then I'd have to go back eventually. I'd just be //leaving// again. Leaving ... her. I'm scared I'll forget what home was like, what she was like." <</if>> [[Sam sighs, finally looking at you.|Chap2Scene194a]]

<<if $samRomance > 0>>He can't leave you so soon.<<else>><<if $samRelationship > 50>>You've found in Sam a friend, and you'd hate to see him go.<<else>>No matter your reasons, he seems to have found his place in Sola, after only a few weeks.<</if>><</if>> "Sometimes I think about what it'd be like if we went back," Sam smiles sadly through his tears, looking down at his hands. "My friends'd come and hug me, tell me everything that's happened. They all saw me and Pa off when we left..." <<if $optimistic > 50>>"You could visit one day?" You offer helpfully, but Sam's shoulders jerk upwards in a simple, dismissive shrug. "That'd just make things worse. I'd have to leave again. Leave ... her again."<<else>>You have nothing to say. You can't imagine what it would be like, having to leave your home like that so soon after losing someone you love. /*one day buddy lol*/ "I don't even want to visit," he admits, scowling. "'Cause then I'd have to go back eventually. I'd just be //leaving// again. Leaving ... her. I'm scared I'll forget what home was like, what she was like." <</if>> [[Sam sighs, finally looking at you.|Chap2Scene194a]]

<<set $samObvTell to "yes">>"Pa said ... your parents went away too, but not like my ma. He said I shouldn't talk about it to you," Sam wipes an errant tear from his cheek, letting it soak into the sleeve of his tunic. "I hope they come back for you, $firstname, I really do," he smiles sadly. "...Even if my ma can't come back to me." [[You glance away uncomfortably. "I don't want to talk about them..."|Chap2Scene195a]] [[Now tears shimmer in your eyes. "Thank you..."|Chap2Scene195b]] [[You frown. "I don't know if they'll come back for me, but I don't care."|Chap2Scene195c]]

"Okay," Sam reassures you quietly. "We don't have to. I just thought you might miss them, is all. I'd miss my parents if I never--" He stops short when you look <<if $volatile > 50>>angrily<<else>>pleadingly<</if>> at him. "Right. Sorry..." "I just don't want to think about it, especially after today. I might never know why they left me here," you sigh, deflated. You didn't want to think about this; not now, not today. "It just hurts." "That ... makes sense, $firstname," Sam sighs, smiling in sympathy. "I'll think I'll always miss her, even when I'm a hundred years old. I don't know if I want it to hurt forever, though..." "One day, I don't think it will." "You don't?" Sam's eyes almost sparkle under the Veil. [[🌞+ "I'll make sure you stop hurting one day."|Chap2Scene196a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $samCh2Promise to 1]] [["I don't," you confirm.|Chap2Scene196b]] [["...Maybe?" You smile awkwardly.|Chap2Scene196c]]

"Oh, don't you cry now! I just stopped," Sam grimaces, hands hovering over you but not actually touching. "I won't," you blink the tears away, "That was just ... a nice thing to say." "Hey, don't mention it, $samNick. You just let me cry like a //baby//." "You aren't a--" "I know!" He interrupts you with a finger. "...I just don't want to forget her, I think. It makes me sad, thinking I will. I think Pa //wants// to forget her. He barely ever talks about her now..." You smile softly. "I never even met my real parents, but I still think about them. Uncle Callen and Aunt Sonia help me remember. I don't think he'll let you forget her--I don't think he'd want himself to, either." Sam blinks, a new understanding passing across his face. "I never thought about it that way. I haven't ... cried about her in a while, really. I don't think I'll ever stop missing her, even when I'm a hundred years old. I don't know if I want it to hurt forever, though..." "One day, I don't think it will." "You don't?" Sam's eyes almost sparkle under the Veil. [[🌞+ "I'll make sure you stop hurting one day."|Chap2Scene196a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $samCh2Promise to 1]] [["I don't," you confirm.|Chap2Scene196b]] [["...Maybe?" You smile awkwardly.|Chap2Scene196c]]

Sam looks at you like you'd just admitted to eating worms, surprise stemming the flow of his tears. "You //don't//?" "Why should I?" You shrug. "They left me here, and they haven't come back yet. Wherever they are, I hope they're happy, because so am I. I don't need them." "That ... makes sense, $firstname," Sam sighs, smiling shakily. "I think I'll always miss her, even when I'm a hundred years old. I don't know if I want it to hurt forever, though..." "One day, I don't think it will." "You don't?" Sam's eyes almost sparkle under the Veil. [[🌞+ "I'll make sure you stop hurting one day."|Chap2Scene196a][$samRelationship to $samRelationship + 1, $samCh2Promise to 1]] [["I don't," you confirm.|Chap2Scene196b]] [["...Maybe?" You smile awkwardly.|Chap2Scene196c]]

"I'll remember that," Sam sighs, nodding and drying his tears. "I'm sorry, $firstname. I didn't want to talk about horrible things like that after today. I just ... I thought you might //get it//." "It's not the same, but I think I do," you smile. "If we both help the other person, we'll be happier, right?" "You're a smart little Weaver, y'know that?" Sam giggles, tapping the side of his head. <<if $intelligence > 2>>"I'm so smart that I already //did// know that, yes!" You snicker. "See?!" Sam waves his hands at you. "I knew it was clever, talkin' to a genius." [[Next|Chap2Scene197]]<<else>>"I think you're the first person who's ever said that," you smirk. "Well, then everybody else is just stupid, how about that?" [["That works," you agree.|Chap2Scene197]]<</if>>

"You're a reliable $child, $samNick," Sam sighs happily. "I think, one day, you'll help lots more people..." <<if $optimistic < 50>>You grimace. "That's a //lot// of pressure." Sam shakes his head strongly. "I think you've got what it takes."<<else>>A blush rises in your cheeks. "I'd like to..." Sam grins encouragingly. "So you will!"<</if>> [[Next|Chap2Scene197]]

"That's good enough," Sam snickers at your unserious answer, in spite of all the serious talking you've been doing. "Our best is all we can do, ain't it?" [[Next|Chap2Scene197]]

Silence hangs between the two of you for a moment as Sam calms down, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "D'you think ... Can we keep watching the Veil, for just a little bit longer? We've been here for so long already, and I want the night to last..." It //is// quite late, now. The sky beyond the Veil is dark as pitch. It might even be nighttime on the surface, too. "We should," you agree. <<if $samRomance < 1>>[[🌞❤️+ The two of you settle in close to one another, staring up at the Veil once more. Oddly enough, you feel more than physically close. Something has shifted between you and Sam during this time, and you feel it deep in your chest.|Chap2Scene198aR1][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1]]<<elseif $samRomance == 1>>[[🌞❤️+ The two of you settle in close to one another, staring up at the Veil once more, nerves writhing like snakes in your gut at the closeness. Something tells you ... Sam feels it too.|Chap2Scene198aR2][$samRomance to $samRomance + 1]]<<else>>[[🌞🔥 Sam's hand clasps yours firmly as you settle in close to one another.|Chap2Scene198bR]]<</if>> [[The two of you watch the Veil in enraptured silence.|Chap2Scene198c]]

<<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>Sam and his father settle into Sola properly after a couple of years, any misgivings over their Abrian nationality going forgotten by Sola's inhabitants. Alban's Articles becomes quite the success, and the street outside your home is rarely quiet during daytime. Sam's father even secures a small contract with the Bladeweaver's Order, thanks to Callen's efforts.<<else>>Sam and his father settle into Sola properly after a couple of years, during which you learn of the true reason for their move. Sam's mother had passed away earlier that year, prompting Sam's father to uproot their life--to get away from the pain of it all, according to Callen. Despite him not having told you, his grief occasionally becomes evident, despite his best efforts to hide it. Regardless, Alban's Articles becomes quite the success, and the street outside your home is rarely quiet during daytime. Sam's father even secures a small contract with the Bladeweaver's Order, thanks to Callen's efforts.<</if>> It becomes difficult not to see Sam in a different way after learning of his mother, but as the boy grows, he hardly loses any of his cheeriness and, eventually, his grief seems to ebb away. [[Next|Chap3Interlude2.75]]

Even two years after the incident at the duel, $mentor's maiming and 'loss' to Ser Malack is still whispered about. <<if $mentor == "Callen">>Many a night does Sonia come home looking rough, having defended Callen's honour from a too-mouthy drunkard, or a foolish noble. She fights more than fifteen personal duels in the months following the exhibition, and thankfully wins them all without issue. This, of course, does not stop Callen from begging her to let the issue be. "Let this apple rot, lass," he would implore her, "ye'll keep it ripe by swingin' at everyone who mutters a word of it." It takes a few of these occasions, and one night of arguing you were certainly //not// supposed to hear, to finally stop her insistence on fighting for him. She's mellowed out to a cold glare and a pointed insult, when the occasion calls for it--which it often does.<<else>>Callen does his utmost to defend her honour, using his sway as a Master and friend of the upper echelons of the Order to stimy any discriminatory action taken against her. That is not to say that these punishments do not come at all, of course. Once recovered, Sonia found herself burdened with busywork at the Academy--work not at all befitting of a Master. She never complained, strangely enough. Part of you thought she was punishing herself--on top of everything else she was made to do--for her failure. Callen attempts to further intervene on her behalf, but he is sternly told not to. It's strange: she might have been spared some of what she was assigned, had she only swallowed her pride. Despite this, she certainly does not accept any ill talk of the matter, wishing to duel any who question her prowess. On one occasion, she spun on her heel and marched up to the face of an Abrian diplomat who'd called her performance 'disappointing' and said, "Come and test my steel, if you're so sure yours won't break, you //gówniir!//" You knew not the meaning of the word, but the gasps that broke out around the courtyard of the place you were visiting told you more than enough. A duel was not fought that day, but the hands of the diplomat's personal guard flew to their sword-hilts whenever she marched by, half-smiling and half-snarling. Eventually she is convinced to stop her obsessive guardianship of her honour by Callen one night. "Let this apple rot, lass," he would implore her, "ye'll keep it ripe by swingin' at everyone who speaks a word of it." She's since mellowed out some, resorting to a cold glare and a pointed insult, when the occasion calls for it--which it often does.<</if>> And so the three of you moved on with the years, with the memory of $mentor's pallid, waxy skin flickering like a candle in the dark nothing of your dreams. [[Accompanied by yet stranger visions...|Chap3Interlude3]]

<<set $ch2SamCrushMoment to "4">>His hand clasps your own, his grip warm and firm. You glance at him nervously for a moment, and he gives you an infectious grin. There must be thousands of people in Sola, watching this spectacle. Millions across Phanol could be staring up with awe at the Veil's unfathomable might at this very moment. But for you, there is nothing else; nothing more breathtaking to look at than the shimmering eyes of your neighbour, so trusting as to bare his most guarded secret--the source of his pain, hidden deep behind a cheerful mask. Sam has shared a piece of himself with you, tonight, though perhaps you might not yet understand the gravity of his confession. Perhaps one day this will lead to something more. For now, you only know his little hand is warm around yours, and your chest feels full with nerves and fondness in equal measure. Even as Archer finishes their work and leads the two of you--now practically swaying with tiredness--down the stairs, you stick close together. You each have suffered pain, seen some small part of the world's cruelties, but you have one another in this small, bright moment. [[...That is enough.|Chap3SonCad]]

His hand clasps your own, his grip warm and firm. You glance at him nervously for a moment, and he gives you an uncharacteristically shy little half-smile, flicking his gaze away from you and back to the Veil. There must be thousands of people in Sola, watching this spectacle. Millions across Phanol could be staring up with awe at the Veil's unfathomable might at this very moment. But for you, there is nothing else; nothing more breathtaking to look at than the shimmering eyes of your neighbour, so trusting as to bare his most guarded secret--the source of his pain, hidden deep behind a cheerful mask. Sam has shared a piece of himself with you, tonight, though perhaps you might not yet understand the gravity of his confession. Perhaps one day this will lead to something more. For now, you only know his little hand is warm around yours, and your chest feels full with nerves and fondness in equal measure. Even as Archer finishes their work and leads the two of you--now practically swaying with tiredness--down the stairs, you stick close together. You each have suffered pain, seen some small part of the world's cruelties, but you have one another in this small, bright moment. [[...That is enough.|Chap3SonCad]]

This just feels right, somehow. There must be thousands of people in Sola, watching this spectacle. Millions across Phanol could be staring up with awe at the Veil's unfathomable might at this very moment. But for you, there is nothing else; nothing more breathtaking to look at than the shimmering eyes of your neighbour, so trusting as to bare his most guarded secret--the source of his pain, hidden deep behind a cheerful mask. Sam has shared a piece of himself with you, tonight, though perhaps you might not yet understand the gravity of his confession. Perhaps one day this will lead to something more. For now, you only know his little hand is warm around yours, and your chest feels full with nerves and fondness in equal measure. Even as Archer finishes their work and leads the two of you--now practically swaying with tiredness--down the stairs, you stick close together. You each have suffered pain, seen some small part of the world's cruelties, but you have one another in this small, bright moment. [[...That is enough.|Chap3SonCad]]

Eventually, Archer comes down from their desk, bidding the two of you to stand while smiling at how comfortable you'd managed to get. "I shall have to install a hammock; it would serve me well on late nights, too," they laugh as they open the observatory's door, leading you and Sam down the stairs ahead of them. ...It's been quite the day. Sam's confession lingers in your mind, strangely reassuring in its blunt truthfulness; if even those as cheery as Sam can be sad, scared and angry inside, what chance does //anyone// have? You have to take the good with the bad, even if the bad seems to be all there is at the moment. Something pushes at you to move past all you've endured today, to keep descending these stairs and go home, where your mentors surely wait for you, alive and well. Hopefully they won't be cross that you went here, though Archer will surely bear the brunt of that telling-off. [[...That's fine by you.|Chap3SonCad]]

REMEMBER FOR WRITING NEXT TIME! <<if $chap2SamFair == "yes">>You and Sam are ushered in ahead of Archer, who shuts the door behind them without locking it. Sam asks to see your room if you chose that he hasn't visited often earlier, but asks if the two of you can go up there if you chose that he's visited quite a bit. You have the observatory talk there with pretty much the same options, but slightly changed because you aren't looking up at the stars.