Angel's Creed, two

[theguindo]

Chapter two, in which certain plot elements are introduced and we get to know a bit about our main characters. 10,238 words.

FEEDBACK IS AWESOME. I would like to know:
- What you like
- What you dislike
- Whether anything pulls you out of the reading (poor phrasing, something happens that you have to stop to puzzle out, a world-specific thing is ill-defined enough to stop your reading inertia, can't tell who's speaking for a certain line or set of lines, etc)
- Does anything feel extraneous or feel like it needs to be expanded upon?
- Impressions of characters, setting, or story
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Chapter 2

After spending the majority of his day hiking through the mountains in the snow, the last thing Matt wanted to do was hike back through the mountains in the snow at night.

Unfortunately, the private banging on his door had left him little choice. He'd been woken out of a dead sleep and informed of an emergency at a location ANGEL was responsible for guarding. All he could think, as he pulled on his cold weather gear and headed for the stables to grab his steed, was that the timing just figured, didn't it? He would get called out for something the night before he had to leave on the most obnoxious mission of his life.

So it was that Matt ended up riding through the biting cold to the Temple of Lyndas.

The temple, nestled in the mountains to the northwest of Alrael, was a piece of history. It had been built by Daruma's followers to mark the place where Alm had sealed one of her eleven parts. Now, ANGEL held a constant guard over the temple, just in case somebody should get the idea to go around trying to resurrect Daruma.

Not that he really believed in any of that.

The first thing he noticed as he rode up to the temple was that there were too many thurgia outside. The feathered, bipedal reptiles that ANGEL used as mounts were herded together near one unfortunate looking soldier whose job it obviously was to watch over them. Matt dismounted and handed off his thurgia's reins.

The second thing he noticed was that out of the five ANGELs present, not one of them saluted as he walked up.

The highest ranking soldier there was a corporal; he approached Matt. The other three remained huddled on the temple steps.

Matt preempted him with, "What's going on?" His voice was muffled slightly by the white scarf over his mouth and nose - standard ANGEL cold-weather gear. Everyone present, Matt included, was wearing the full set: scarf, red sweater, and white coat over the normal uniform.

The corporal paused to look back over his shoulder at the soldiers sitting on the temple steps. "I don't rightly know, sir," he said as he turned back to Matt, similarly muffled. "It...well, I think maybe you had better see for yourself."

That was never a good sign.

The corporal led him up the steps, and Matt's eyes drifted to the familiar, disconcerting architecture. He had pulled guard duty at the temple before, back when he was a private. He hadn't liked the place then, and he didn't like it any more now. The temple was decorated with defaced images of Daruma, and gruesome scenes of her Valkyries slaughtering on the battlefield and standing in glory over Alm's forces lying devastated.

That alone was unsettling enough, but more than that, Matt hated the feeling he always got around the temple. It was a vague, unnameable feeling, like something lurking just at the edge of his perception.

He didn't get much chance to dwell on that, however. As soon as they crossed under the archway into the temple, he knew exactly what the corporal had wanted to show him.

There in the hall stood two incredibly lifelike statues. Both were young men dressed in ANGEL uniforms, standing at the ready. The one on the left had a look of confusion, and the right one of utmost terror.

Matt didn't want to say what he was thinking. He stepped forward for a closer look at the granite, swallowing his horror. The details were exact, down to the stitching of their rank on the sleeves of their coats.

Bernard let out a low whistle, flying from Matt's shoulder to alight on the stone epaulet of Private Rowlins. "That is some magic," he said. This time, as had been the case until Amelia Varista had entered the picture, Matt was the only one to hear him.

Matt stepped back, doing his best to remain composed. "They turned to stone?"

"It...doesn't seem possible, sir," the corporal answered, shaking his head, "but that's the only explanation. Whatever happened caught the other two on patrol, too."

"It's not possible," said Bernard. "Technically."

But Bernard had mentioned magic. Matt reached out tentatively, fingers brushing the stone of one statue's shoulder. He couldn't feel it through his gloves, but he could tell it was solid. "Is there any kind of magic that could do this?"

"I don't know, sir," but Bernard spoke over the corporal, answering, "A basilisk, sure, maybe a Spirit if it was powerful enough, but mortal magic? No way."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Basilisks aren't real."

"Sir?"

He looked to the corporal. "Are they?"

"I..." He frowned, eyes drifting from Matt to the statues. "...I don't know, sir."

Matt stepped back. He stared at the unfortunate soldiers a moment longer before turning to face the still-living one. "You said the other two are the same? That's four, there should be five."

"Sergeant North? Ashed."

Matt's eyebrows rose at that. "Something came into the temple with enough power to turn four soldiers into solid stone, and then it just killed their sergeant?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it ran out of power?"

Matt heard Bernard's derisive snort, but ignored it. "Where's his ash?"

"Downstairs, at the Seal. General Sterling's waiting for you down there, sir."

Sterling. Great. There was a lot he had to say to that, but it wasn't the sort of thing a major should say about his general in front of a corporal.

General Sterling was Matt's commanding officer. The one who'd assigned him as Amelia's escort.

Instead of heading deeper into the temple, Matt walked past the corporal, back toward the steps. Bernard returned to his shoulder. "You're gonna piss the guy off, princess."

He didn't comment. He couldn't, not in public, but he was accustomed to that well enough. The thing was, he didn't care how pissed off General Sterling was with him, because General Sterling was in a perpetual state of being pissed off. Matt just happened to bear the brunt of it because Sterling, for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with a young Private Richards mouthing off to him, had a personal dislike for Matt.

The corporal observed at a cautious distance as Matt stopped at the head of the stairs to look down at the four ANGELs gathered around the steps. The one in charge of the thurgia was standing at the bottom, busy lighting a cigarette, while the others lounged and made light of things, as soldiers in bad situations were wont to do.

"You know what happened here?"

"A travesty?" the smoker muttered, casually indifferent.

"Sergeant Tramden happened here."

One of them, obviously green, rebutted, "The hero of Arithea? Why would he be here?"

"Sergeant Tramden came to unseal Daruma. So he can resurrect her and then kill her himself."

The fourth soldier nodded sagely and chimed in, mock serious, "It's no wonder those who stood in his way were turned to stone. Sergeant Tramden has a petrifying gaze."

The rookie was obviously confused by all this. Thankfully for him, Matt stepped in to interrupt. "Hey, ANGELS, I have some questions for you." It was a heroic effort that kept him from interrupting with a Sergeant Tramden line of his own.

All four of them snapped to attention, desperately trying to pretend they hadn't just been throwing around ANGEL in-jokes within hearing range of an officer.

"At ease." They relaxed, but only slightly. "Tell me what happened here."

There was a faint chorus of muffled "uh"s, followed by one soldier's cautious, "Sir?"

"When you got here to relieve the other crew, what happened?"

The thurgia guard spoke up, sounding no less apathetic than he had before. "We got here, found the statues, found the ashes, and sent a thurgia back to base to tell the chain of command. Sir."

"That's all there is to it?"

"That's all there is to it, sir." The others nodded or mumbled their combined agreement.

"Roger. Carry on." He turned back into the temple, throwing the corporal a nod as he slipped past.

He didn't want to do it, but it was time to go talk to Sterling.

It was no great surprise that he found himself looking for every excuse not to descend those steps to the Seal. It wasn't until he was halfway down them that he finally realized one.

"It's gone," he said, in a volume only Bernard would be able to hear.

"Yeah?"

"It's been gone this whole time. How did I not notice it sooner?"

"What has, princess? This may shock you, but I can't read your mind."

"That...feeling. Every time I've been here before, there was always this...pressure. I don't know how to describe it. But it's gone now."

"Well, it's not like there was a piece of Daruma sealed here or anything."

His initial response was exasperation, but it took less than a second for what Bernard had said to sink in and Matt stopped cold. He'd never thought that maybe the reason for the temple's unsettling presence was that its story was true, that there really was a piece of the wicked goddess sealed here. Now that he thought about it, and the natural conclusion for that void, he liked that idea even less.

"How long you gonna keep General McHatesYou waiting, princess?"

He shook off his thoughts and continued his descent.

The stairs were completely enclosed all the way to the bottom, where they led into a hallway that in turn led to the Seal. The Seal was a spacious round chamber with a tiled floor and lamps lining the walls for light. Nobody bothered lighting them usually, because nobody bothered staying at the Seal longer than it took to walk the perimeter and leave, but now there were four of them - the ones nearest the entrance - that stood burning.

In the flickering lamplight, he could make out the details that he'd missed on his quick patrols as a private. The tile had been painted, ages and ages ago, but its colour existed now only as a chipped, faded stain. The walls still contained imagery of Daruma, but the focus seemed to be on an elven man in antiquated armour. The temple's namesake?

Toward the back of the chamber stood an altar in the shape of Daruma herself. Like every other depiction of her in the temple, it had long ago been defaced by Alm's followers, her head and right arm missing completely. The lamplight barely reached that far back, and the shadows played over the black stone in a way that almost tricked the eye into thinking it was moving.

Beside the statue he could see an edge of white and a slash of red against the tile, and an odd shadow across the floor that he had to squint to make out.

"'Bout damn time you made it, Richards," boomed a terrifyingly familiar voice.

Matt turned away from what were surely the ashes and uniform of the unfortunate Sergeant North to face the man addressing him.

General Sterling was a broad-shouldered bulldog of a man who was every bit as mean as he looked. With him were a captain and a colonel, both of whom Matt recognized, and a priest that he didn't. All eyes but the priests' were on him.

"Yes, sir," was all he said.

"You saw the statues." It wasn't a question. They had been impossible to miss.

"Yes, sir."

"...Take off that scarf, you look ridiculous." Sterling, because he was made of stone himself, wore no cold weather gear at all.

Holding back a sigh, Matt pulled the scarf down and tugged it off. He took some solace in the fact that Sterling had made the captain and colonel remove theirs, too.

"Is that a non-standard-issue leather all-weather coat, Major?"

Matt's eyes narrowed and his hand curled into a fist around the scarf. "Yes. Sir."

"Is there something wrong with the standard issue canvas one, Major?"

His eyes flickered over the captain and colonel, who both wore the canvas version, and both looked like they were too afraid to point out that General Sterling had more important things to concentrate on than berating soldiers for doing things that were perfectly within regulation.

There were many things wrong with the canvas version, in Matt's opinion. The leather all-weather coat was warmer, drier, and the gold wings on the back were embroidered instead of painted, which made it look better, too. The only drawback was that the leather one cost several-hundred drachma and the canvas one was issued free.

For some reason, Sterling had an irrational hatred for letting his soldiers spend their money on non-standard gear.

For a brief moment, Matt was tempted to give a smart-ass reply. Thankfully, his better judgment prevailed. "No, sir."

"Then if you're wearing a coat next time I see you, it had better be a canvas one. Am I clear?"

"Crystal. Sir."

Finally, Sterling decided to stop upbraiding him and get down to the matter at hand. "I hate to make you think you're special or something, but you're the best excuse we've got. You're escorting for a summoner's quest, so you can move unimpeded all over Threa and not raise any eyebrows. Go to the ruins of Fort Raheem up by Wey and make sure everything's secure up there. Send back a report and wait for a reply."

The ruins of Fort Raheem had been rubble for at least a century, closer to two. There wasn't much "secure" about that.

He didn't want to ask. Asking questions of Sterling had less than favourable results. But he had to or he wouldn't be able to accomplish the mission, so he steeled himself for the inevitable backlash and put forth his question. "What do you mean by secure, sir?"

The priest shielded him from Sterling's ire (oh but Matt caught the General's glare nonetheless). "There's a Seal there. We...need to know if there are any signs of intrusion. That's all. We'll send somebody to follow up as soon as the orders are out. You shouldn't have to stay in Wey any longer than a week.

The priest got a glare from Sterling too, but he ignored it.

"Roger," Matt said. "Check the Seal at Fort Raheem for signs of intrusion, report back by mail, await further orders, never wear a leather coat again. Understood."

The captain snickered and covered it up with a cough when Sterling's glare found him instead. "Get the hell outta here, Richards," Sterling grumbled.

Matt didn't stick around.

* * *

Morning came woefully early. That sort of thing happened when one wasted a good couple hours of potential sleep on answering a summons. But, as a practiced soldier, he had little trouble waking himself up and getting out the door in a timely fashion.

What he did have trouble with was keeping quiet about what had happened that night. As soon as he reached the relative solitude of the stables, he addressed Bernard. "You know something, don't you."

He pushed open the door to his thurgia's stall, dropping his gear inside. His eyes followed Bernard as the faerie flitted over to perch on the separating wall. "I know lots of things, princess. You're gonna have to be specific."

Ignoring him for a moment, Matt nudged the sleeping reptile with his foot. "Come on, Yvonne, time to get up."

When Matt nudged her, she pulled her head out from under her feathered arm and yawned wide, showing a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth. He pulled over a stool and sat down beside her. "What's going on with the temple?" he asked, resuming conversation with Bernard as he inspected Yvonne's claws for cracks.

"Bunch of guys fall victim to magic that doesn't exist, guy who hates you sends you off on a secret mission?"

"Yeah. Something's seriously wrong, there."

"What tipped you off?"

His leveled his gaze at the faerie. "Is somebody trying to unseal Daruma, Bernard?"

Bernard's eyes were on the far wall of the stables. His tiny face was unreadable at this distance.

Matt straightened, letting Yvonne pull her foot back. "...But that whole thing's just a story, isn't it? We just found some Darumite temples, decided they were Seals, and-?" He cut off, letting it hang.

"Doesn't matter if it's true." Bernard turned to him. "Your big-wigs think it's true, so when something weird goes down at a supposed 'Seal,' of course they're gonna panic."

Right. Panic and send him to check another supposed "Seal" to make sure the same thing hadn't happened there. He just wondered what the hell they expected him to find if something had gone wrong. It wasn't like there were any guards up at Fort Raheem to find suddenly given a granite makeover.

The Seal, real or not, didn't matter anyway. What mattered was what had happened at the temple.

"What kind of magic turns people to stone?"

Bernard gave an almost amused sounding snort. "Not mortal magic, that's for sure."

"None of the creatures that can do it are real, and the other option is a Spirit. And why the hell would a Spirit be interested in the Temple of Lyndas?" He froze, eyes going wide as he answered his own question. A Spirit wouldn't have to be interested in the temple. Just a summoner that had it Contracted.

Now the question became, who would have an interest in the temple, and why?

"They don't pay you to think, princess," Bernard replied, seemingly oblivious to the sudden epiphany. "They pay you to go frolicking across Threa with a chatty broad."

"Mm." He fell silent and turned back to Yvonne, combing through her crest for bent or broken feathers. She gave a pleased trill and set her head on his knee.

The silence didn't last very long. "Hey, Matt, figured I'd find you here."

It was a familiar voice, belonging to a familiar face. Captain Aristophanes Lebeaux stood at the stall's gate, resting an arm over it.

Stoph was a tall, lean man with prematurely grey hair and roguish smile. He had one brown eye and one bulky black eye-patch which led to no end of creative lies. Normally he'd be dressed in the uniform of ANGEL's air-navy, but he was currently dressed in casual clothes, with a bag slung over one shoulder.

"Hey, Stoph," Matt replied, pausing long enough to give a nod of acknowledgment before returning to tending his thurgia. "Leave again?"

"Yeah, two weeks. My poor ailing mother is ailing again. Just wanted to let you know before I head out."

"Ah. Just like last time?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Always is. Anyway, I hear you've got escort duty, huh?"

"Yeah." He didn't even try to hide the contempt in his voice.

Aristophanes winced. "That bad, huh?"

"She's a spoiled brat who can't keep her mouth shut."

"Bummer. Well, if you ever need it, my ship's open to you. After two weeks, of course."

"That's kind of you, Stoph." He was never going to take him up on that, though.

"No problem. I'll see you around. Good luck with your, uh. Summoner." He gave a short wave and turned to leave - then he hesitated and turned back. "Oh, and watch out for the Summoner's Bogeyman."

Matt blinked. "The what?" But by the time the question was out of his mouth, Aristophanes was already on his way out the door.

* * *

When Matt arrived, Joel was already waiting in the Cathedral's main hall.

Actually, to say he was waiting would be inaccurate. He was standing off to the side of the hall with Naomi, conversing without making eye contact, shoulders tensed and posture closed-off. She looked about as nervous.

Matt recognized the look of awkward teenagers. He opted to wait by the doors for them to finish.

Naomi seemed to sense his presence. She glanced up suddenly, eyes instantly on Matt. He could feel that unsettling air from yesterday even this far from her, but it was surprising to see that she apparently felt something similar from him.

She looked back at Joel, and Matt could hear her force a nervous sounding laugh before excusing herself to dash off down the hallway. She disappeared around the nearest corner, taking that unsettling air with her.

Joel hung his head; Matt could just imagine the sigh that must have gone with it. But when he turned around, he seemed perfectly chipper, wearing a soft smile instead of the disappointment Matt expected. He called out a greeting.

"Morning," Matt called back, walking over. "Where's Varista?"

Joel glanced back over his shoulder, smile unwavering. "When I knocked, she said she'd be just a minute."

"Figures," he muttered under his breath.

Joel quickly covered up a chuckle with the back of his hand. "I wasn't supposed to hear that," he said in a tone similar to Matt's.

That got an arched eyebrow from Matt, but he decided not to comment. Instead, he decided to ask about something he'd been wondering since his conversation with Aristophanes. "Hey, do you know anything about something called 'the Summoner's Bogeyman,' Father?"

Joel's smile turned pensive and his head cocked slightly to one side. "Oh? Where did you hear about that?"

"Friend of mine mentioned it. Didn't give me any details."

"I see." He seemed to debate it for a minute, and then finally decided on a reply. "I suppose you should know as much as possible. It wouldn't do to send you out without a proper briefing on the situation - though, one wonders how you haven't already been briefed on this."

Matt's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.

Joel continued. " 'The Summoner's Bogeyman' is a name the church uses for the man suspected to be responsible for the deaths of several summoners over the past few years."

"Oh, him." Now Matt knew what he was talking about. That killer was some nebulous entity that the military hadn't been able to apprehend yet. The military also had a tendency to blame a lot of deaths on him, not just those of summoners, which explained why the "Summoner's Bogeyman" moniker was an unfamiliar one.

"Ah, you do know."

"Yeah. We'll be careful."

Joel gave a single, slow nod.

Matt looked down the hallway, searching for a sign of Amelia; she was still conspicuously absent. Turning back to Joel, he said, "I'm gonna wait outside."

Joel gave another silent nod in reply, and Matt turned to head back out.

This morning the front doors were wedged open just far enough for an average-sized person to be able to slip through. He wasn't sure why they bothered; it wasn't like keeping the doors shut kept the place any warmer. He stepped out into the open air, taking a moment to set his cap in place before he walked down the steps to where he'd left his thurgia.

The biggest functional difference between horses and thurgia was that horses were prey animals, and thurgia were predators. Nobody in his right mind would leave a horse untied and unattended. Thurgia, however, did not spook. There was no danger of having a well-trained thurgia run off just because nothing was holding its lead. A scared thurgia would stand its ground, intimidate its assailant, and, if necessary, kill it.

Military thurgia skipped that last part unless ordered. Usually.

So, Yvonne was waiting at the foot of the church steps unattended, and this was not considered strange or negligent in the least.

Though, to be honest, she wasn't entirely unattended. Bernard was seated quite comfortably on her back, reclining in the red and white saddle. He pried an eye open as Matt approached. "You get ditched?"

He stopped beside Yvonne, running a hand over her crest. "Varista's taking longer than expected."

"As expected."

"Mm." He took a cursory glance around, double-checking for anybody in earshot. He'd long since learned how to look natural when talking to Bernard, how to keep people from suspecting anything, but there was always hearing range. "Now here's the big question: considering how angry she was about my decision to leave at sunrise, how bad do you think it'll be when I tell her we need to go to Wey?"

"Yeah, you're screwed."

"Thanks."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and the baby elf will back you up."

"Maybe." But he obviously didn't hold much faith in that option.

Some time later, Joel and Amelia finally emerged from the Cathedral and started down the steps. Well, Joel did anyway. Amelia stopped at the top as soon as her eyes fell in Matt's direction.

"You brought a bird?!" It was practically a scream. Joel visibly cringed. Bernard let out a groan and crawled into one of the saddlebags so he wouldn't have to listen.

"She's a reptile," Matt corrected.

"No, I'm not going. You can't bring your stupid bird on my quest."

He glared. "Good thing she's not a bird then, isn't it."

Joel had stopped halfway down the steps and now half-turned to look up at her. "Amelia."

"No!" She pointed furiously down at Yvonne, who was watching with a curious tilt to her head. "Thurgia are - are big scary lizards with too many teeth! And they're too smart! That thing'll eat us while we're sleeping! You can't bring it!"

That broke through. Now it was a personal affront, and Matt looked just as annoyed as he felt. "Are you serious, Varista. She's a military thurgia. She's better trained than you are."

"Please." Joel held up both hands, his smile strained. They both looked to him and fell silent. "Amelia," he turned to her, holding out a hand, "come down with me."

Glaring warily at the thurgia, she nonetheless complied, moving down the steps and taking Joel's hand when she was close enough. He led her the rest of the way and they stopped at the bottom. She practically glued herself to his arm without ever taking her eyes off of Yvonne.

"Let's be reasonable about this," he said, looking up toward Matt. "Could you explain your reasons for wanting to bring your thurgia?"

He sighed. "Think about it, Varista. If something attacks us, she can help fend them off. Or, if somebody gets sick or injured, having a trained steed along is a hell of a lot more convenient than carrying that person back to town. And I don't know about you, but I'd like to avoid having to lug our gear the entire way."

Joel seemed to know which reason would best convince Amelia. He turned to her and said, "Your rucksack will only get heavier the longer you carry it. If you allow the thurgia to come, you won't need to worry about it."

She frowned and shifted the bag's straps on her shoulders. She was considering the logic.

"I'll stay between it and you."

That seemed to do it. Still frowning, she slid her arms out of the bag's straps and pushed it on Joel. "Fine." She didn't sound happy about it.

He took her bag and walked to Matt, handing it over to him. Wordlessly, they got both Amelia's and Joel's gear shoved into Yvonne's saddle bags, which were bigger on the inside than on the outside. Nenakret magic. Very convenient. Bernard had to climb back out onto the saddle while they did this; it was accompanied by displeased grumbling which Matt ignored and Joel couldn't hear.

When that was done, Joel leaned in to whisper, "She suffered a rather traumatic experience with a poorly trained thurgia when she was young. She's been afraid of them ever since. Try not to be too hard on her for it."

Matt gave a resigned sigh. "Yeah, alright."

That got a nod of thanks, and then Joel walked back to Amelia, who didn't look any less surly than she had when he'd first left her side.

"Where are we headed?" Matt asked. He was hoping to hear an undecided response. What he got was better.

"Ligaram," Amelia answered. "Wey. It was Joel's idea. There's a lot of Spirits up that way so it's a good place to check."

He was too stunned to give a reply. That was uncannily convenient.

He looked at Joel, but the priest's quiet smile revealed nothing. "We should get moving," was all Joel said, before leading off for the gates.

* * *

The confederacy of Ligaram lay north of Almsland, across the Lujan River. The river was too wide for there to be any bridges built across it, and so the most reliable method of crossing was to take a ferry from the port city of Rodale.

The way between Alrael and Rodale was blanketed by an evergreen forest, but there was so much traffic between the two cities that a road had been built through it to create a direct, easily-trod path. It was about a three-day walk between cities, two if you kept up a military pace, and one if your thurgia ran fast enough and you rode a long day. Matt resigned himself to a three-day trip.

True to his word, Joel stayed in between Amelia and Yvonne the whole way. Bernard slept, and they trudged on in relative silence. Relative, because it was punctuated by bursts of Amelia either complaining or commenting on the latest thing to cross her mind. It was mostly easy to ignore, and that was what Matt did.

It wasn't until they stopped for lunch that Matt finally decided to spark a conversation of his own. It was practical, of course, because Matt did not yet know his companions well enough to start a frivolous conversation. He asked for a run-down of his group's primary means of defense.

"Why am I not surprised that's the first thing you'd ask after being quiet all day?" was Amelia's reply.

"Because you know me so well, Varista."

"You can call me Amelia, you know."

"I know."

She gave him an exasperated look for that, but it faded quickly as she settled into an answer. "Anyway, once I have some Contracts, I'll be able to use my Spirits. But until then, I have this." Her ruffled skirts fell away from her legs as she shifted. She wore thick knit stockings the same shade of violet as her knit sweater, but now there was a leather strap visible against her right thigh. She reached through the gap in her skirts and delicately pulled a revolver out of its thigh holster.

Matt blinked. That was unexpected, he had to admit. "Let me see that," he said, reaching out for it. She handed over the weapon and he only inspected it for a few seconds before exclaiming, "This is-Varista! Where the hell did you get this?"

His awed surprise seemed to make her leery. "Um. My Uncle Esteban gave it to me."

"He just...gave it to you?"

She nodded. "For my birthday." She smiled, her tone turning proud. "He said that even if I was going to have an escort to protect me, I should still be able to protect myself. So he gave me that and taught me how to use it."

"Varista, this is a rifled dueling pistol! It's worth hundreds, maybe thousands!"

Her smile brightened. "He said it was the best thing to come out of Goblini yet!"

He threw his incredulous stare at Joel, who casually looked away. "Steve has money, and only Amelia to spend it on."

Matt was slightly thrown off by Joel's use of the common nickname, but only because Joel didn't seem the sort of person who used nicknames. "What is he, nobility?"

"Hah!" Amelia thrust an accusing finger in his face, forcing him to lean away from her. "Like you?"

This earned a confused look from Joel. Matt just held up his hands, the perfect picture of innocence (well, aside from the gun still in his right hand). "I don't know where you got that idea, Varista."

"Oh come on!" Her voice rose. It seemed to do that whenever she got started on something, Matt had noticed. "Why else would you be raised at Castle Ramsthus!"

Joel arched an eyebrow.

"This may shock you, but not everyone at Castle Ramsthus is noble."

"Well it's not like they just raise peasant kids there!"

"Seven wings of Khim!" Bernard swore, peeking out from the saddle bag he'd been sleeping in. "His mom's a servant! Shut up already!" And he vanished back under the flap.

Amelia and Matt stared at the space where Bernard had been, while Joel continued watching the two of them, woefully oblivious to Bernard's interruption.

"My mom's a servant," Matt echoed flatly, turning back to Amelia.

"...Right." Her eyes strayed to Joel, who now had his head cocked to one side with the most perplexed variant of a smile that Matt had ever seen. "So you grew up at the castle because..."

"Because my mother lives there. It's not that rare."

"What about your father?"

He flipped the revolver over and held it out to her, grip first. "Anyway, that's a hell of a weapon. That's some uncle you have there."

"Oh, he's not really my uncle." She took the revolver, slipping it back into its thigh-holster and rearranging her skirts over it. "That's my Uncle George, my mom's brother. Uncle Esteban is actually my godfather - he was my dad's best friend. And Joel's." She gestured toward him. He just nodded, apparently deciding not to comment on the prior weirdness. "They all served together during the war - I think I told you that already, right?"

"Mmhm." But now that he had met Joel, the information had extra meaning. The last war with LaoZhen had ended nearly seventeen years ago, which meant that Joel had been way too young to be serving in any wars, elf or not.

Joel seemed to notice the look Matt was giving him, and he politely changed the subject back to Matt's original one. "As for your question of defense, I'm a practiced Sureka with training in ANGEL's particular brand of close-quarters-combat. And you, I assume, are a dragoon?"

Matt nodded. It wasn't difficult to tell if you were familiar with the way ANGEL marked these things. The feather stuck in the band on the left side of his cap was a pointed black feather from the crest of a thurgia. Other professions were similarly coded, and if Joel really had spent an appreciable amount of time around ANGELs then he would have picked up on the code.

The news about him being a Sureka was interesting, though. Sure-ka was the style of martial arts that elves practiced, and if he'd been in Almsland as long as he had, as young as he was, it was a bit of a mystery how he'd managed to become well-trained enough in Sure-ka to actually call himself a Sureka. It led Matt to think that maybe he was just claiming it to make himself seem more capable than he really was. Humans weren't likely to know the difference between somebody who did and didn't know what he was doing when it came to an art they'd never seen, after all.

"What's a dragoon?" Amelia asked, pulling him away from his thoughts on Joel's supposed skill level.

"It means I ride a thurgia and carry a rifle and a cavalry saber." The rifle slung over his back, the saber at his left hip, and the thurgia curled up on the ground to his side all served as evidence for that.

"Oh." There was a pause, long enough for a breath. "So what about your dad?"

Matt stood, moving to start packing away any supplies that were left out. "Oh, he's not a dragoon."

"That's not what I was asking."

"Wasn't it?" He threw a glance back at her. One that dared her to keep going.

She opened her mouth, but Joel set a hand on her shoulder and gently shook his head. She shut her mouth, but didn't look too happy about it.

Well, at least one thing could get her to stop talking.

* * *

The rest of the day was filled with Amelia chattering about any number of things. The topic she came back to most was that of her Uncle Esteban. He was, apparently, an ex-ANGEL living in D'Naba, who had nothing better to do with his time than spoil his goddaughter rotten. The sweater, gloves, and stockings she wore had all been knit for her by him, he'd spent a hefty sum of money and time on getting her a revolver and teaching her how to use it, and even the rucksack she was using for this trip had been a gift from him (another expensive one, too - it was a wingspace bag: one of those bags that was bigger on the inside than the outside).

Matt was starting to dislike the guy solely by virtue of Amelia not shutting up about him. Also by virtue of him having raised a goddaughter like her.

There were the more interesting parts, though. Parts where Joel provided conversation instead. He would continue from Amelia's lead about the esteemed "Uncle Esteban" and provide stories of the time he and "Steve" and Amelia's father had spent together during the war.

Joel's war stories led to Matt's war stories, and for these wondrous, woefully short spans of time, Amelia did not dominate the conversation.

Despite his apparent youth, Joel had been through a lot. Never technically on the front lines, not as a chaplain (even one designated a fighting priest), but even in the rear things got messy. It was a reminder for Matt to consider Joel's history before considering his looks.

Overall, the day was surprisingly tolerable.

Stopping for the night, on the other hand...

"You want me to stand watch alone with that bird?!"

Just when he was starting to have hope. "She's not a bird," Matt muttered, head in hand.

"I don't care what it is! I don't trust it!" She pointed at Yvonne, who was nestled innocuously on the ground near Matt's feet. "If I'm the only one awake, it could eat me and nobody would ever even know until morning!"

"Yvonne doesn't eat people, Varista."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Joel stepped in for this one, providing a quote from scripture. "'The very earth itself turned poisonous, and those warriors who had found solace in death were roused from the earth to continue their battle. The Angel Khim grew furious, but even he who lords over death itself could do naught for the poisoned land. Thus Khim did decree to his Arch-Fae servants that upon death, those who would rise should instead fall to ashes where they lay. And so it is to this day, that mortals and their beasts of war shall no longer be left to the earth, and the dead shall keep their solace.'"

Amelia folded her arms and stared at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means ash is unappetizing, Amelia."

"Huhhh. But!" She waved an arm, indicating it with her other one. "It could eat my arm or something! Without killing me!"

"It's okay, Yvonne, you don't have to listen to that mean girl," Matt said as he leaned down to pat the thurgia's head, in the sort of voice normally reserved for favoured dogs. "I know you'd never eat her, no matter how annoying she is."

"I am not annoying!" she shouted, stomping a foot to emphasize.

Joel coughed politely and glanced away. That alone nearly had Matt cracking up. Bernard did, and Amelia's glare turned on him instead. Of course, Bernard was sitting on Yvonne's back, so that really didn't help the situation at all.

"Alright, Varista. Look. You need to do your fair share. I'm not letting you off the hook on guard shifts just because you're afraid of my thurgia. So, I'll tie her, and you'll only need to stay out of her range to be perfectly safe, okay?" It was patronizing, though. Like a parent reassuring his child that he would check the closet to make sure there were no monsters lurking in there. "And let me show you something else, too."

He stood and looked down at Yvonne. "Yvonne, up."

She gave a quiet trill and rose, shaking out her feathers. Bernard flew from her saddle to Matt's shoulder. Amelia stepped back, taking a hold on Joel's arm and watching cautiously.

"Go!" he commanded, pointing off into the forest.

Instantly, Yvonne took off running.

"Hold!"

She froze in place.

"Return!"

She pivoted around and ran back to Matt's side.

Amelia had hidden completely behind Joel at that point, peering out from behind his shoulder.

"See that? She listens." The thurgia gave another low trill as Matt scratched her crest. He nudged her head around so that she was looking in Amelia's direction. "See her, Yvonne? Her name's Varista. If she tells you to hold, you hold, okay?" There was a quiet warble in reply.

That just made Amelia's eyes go wider. "She understands you," she hissed.

"Of course she does. Thurgia are smart. But watch, I'll tell her to go, and you tell her to stop. Just shout 'hold,' like I did."

She was forced out of her hiding place by Joel quietly edging away from her. She frowned, tucking one side of her bangs behind her ear. "...Why?"

"Because if you know that you can have control over something, it's not as scary."

The frown deepened, but she said, "...Okay."

"Alright." He pointed again. "Go!" And again, Yvonne took off.

Amelia fidgeted for a moment, chewing at her lip and staring off at the thurgia, before finally shouting out a weak-sounding, "H-hold?"

Just as she had for Matt, Yvonne froze.

"It worked!" Her hands covered her mouth in surprise.

"Hah, the one thing that'll listen to you."

"I told you." Matt interrupted Bernard halfway through his jab. "Yvonne, return!" She came running back to Matt's side once more. "So you have nothing to worry about, Varista. All you have to do is tell her to hold and she will stay exactly where she is."

"You're still gonna tie her up though, right?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I'll still tie her up."

Amelia made a noise like a low hrmmm. "...Fine, okay. I'll take the first shift."

"Don't worry, doll," said Bernard, "I'll keep you company."

"Never mind I don't want to do a guard shift."

If Joel hadn't been there, Matt would have had some very choice words for Bernard.

Joel's very patient and only slightly confused, "Amelia..." got her to sigh and throw up her hands before relenting again.

* * *

Night passed with thankfully little incident. Amelia seemed extremely grateful for her shift's end when she woke Matt for his, but that was nothing strange. At least she'd gotten through her three hours in relative peace and without killing his thurgia in a panic. (Or without killing Bernard in a rage.)

Joel had taken the last shift, and in the morning Matt woke to find him leaning against Yvonne and reading by the firelight. Yvonne was still tied soundly in place, as per the agreement with Amelia, but rather than having her head tucked under her arm, it was wedged into place under Joel's arm. He didn't seem to mind, leaving his fingers buried in her crest and holding the book with one hand.

Matt climbed out of his sleeping bag and went about getting ready for the day. The worst part was donning his absolutely frigid cold weather gear and waiting for his body heat to make it worth wearing.

Joel's polite, "Good morning," made him look up from shaking out his boots only briefly before grunting back a reply and sliding them on.

Matt had long since decided that ANGEL's choice of footwear was meant as a lesson. It was a tool to demonstrate to young ANGELs that all things in life were ultimately meaningless and that no accomplishments would be lasting ones. There was nothing to be done but "your best" and to hope that would be good enough. And if it wasn't, mean people in funny hats would make you do push-ups.

He made a token effort to brush the dust from his white boots, thankful not for the first time that nobody expected a man to shine those things out in the field.

When he looked up again, Joel had moved and the book had vanished. Remembering the curious behavior around the book he'd been caught with in the library, Matt arched an eyebrow and asked, "What were you reading?"

"Oh." That was definitely a nervous pause. "The Book of Alm."

"Yeah?" Somehow he didn't think a priest would be so quick to hide a religious text.

"Surely you don't think we priests quote scripture from memory without a refresher every now and then."

"Surely not." He had the feeling that he wasn't going to get Joel making any confessions anytime soon. Well, his secrecy about his reading material wasn't important, anyway. What was important was getting the group moving again, and that meant waking up Amelia.

This, Matt realized as he stared down at her sleeping form, was going to be the worst part of the trip.

A few seconds of hesitation later, Joel appeared beside him, holding an arm up in front of Matt's chest to motion him back. "She'll more easily forgive me than you. Focus your energy on what other things must be done."

Matt was grateful beyond words for that last-minute salvation. He turned away without comment and went to smother the fire and work on packing up instead. He did his best to ignore what he could hear of Joel's attempts to rouse Amelia, instead waking up Yvonne and focusing on getting her gear in place.

It wasn't long before Bernard appeared seemingly out of nowhere and settled on Yvonne's back. That wasn't strange, really. Bernard did on occasion vanish; Matt had always assumed he just stopped projecting onto the Mortal Plane for some reason or another. Faeries could be interestingly selective about who did and didn't see them. It made him wonder why Bernard insisted on being seen by him at all.

"You're being followed, princess," he said.

Matt threw a quick glance back at the camp, now dim in the feeble light of a newborn sunrise (presently Joel was attempting to physically fish Amelia out of her sleeping bag), and then turned back to Bernard with a questioning look.

"Couldn't get a good look, but I saw another campfire."

"Mm." It could just be other travelers who happened to be on the road at the same time. Somebody following them would probably avoid making themselves so obvious. "How far?" he asked, keeping his voice low so Joel wouldn't be able to hear.

"A mile, maybe two."

"Think you ca-" A high-pitched scream pierced the air. He winced.

Another glance back over his shoulder showed him an image of Amelia, wide-awake with water dripping from her hair, and Joel holding an empty canteen and handing a towel over to her.

Bernard started laughing. Matt turned back to him. "...Uh. Can you scout for us today?"

"Yeah. Yeah sure," he answered, barely intelligible through the laughter. "In a minute."

"That was uncalled-for!" Another scream; Matt turned to watch.

Joel and his patient smile faced her down as she tried to dry off what she could. "Perhaps you should take it as a lesson, then. If you take too long waking, I'll do something uncalled-for."

She grunted and threw the towel back at him. He caught it. "You're not supposed to be mean to me!"

"I believe your father would have called it 'tough love.' "

"Huhhh." But she gave up at that and turned away to find the various articles she'd stripped off to make her outfit into reasonable sleepwear.

"Aw, show's over." Bernard's voice held a sincere hint of disappointment. "Alright princess, I'll let you know if I see anything detrimental to your health." Matt gave him a slight nod, and Bernard vanished into thin air again.

Once they broke camp and had all their gear packed up and were nearly ready to get on the road again, Amelia asked, "Can I take a look around for Spirits before we leave?"

"What, you didn't do it during your guard shift last night?"

"Um, no? Because I was guarding?"

That was unexpected. "...Wow, a surprisingly reasonable answer from you."

"Huhhh, I wish they'd given me an ANGEL who wasn't such a jerk."

"Oh, we're all like this, Varista."

"My Uncle Esteban isn't!"

"That's different. He's retired."

"Steve isn't retired," Joel said, before Amelia could reply. "He quit."

Matt folded his arms, cocked his head to the side, and arched an eyebrow.

Joel's smile provided no further explanation. He turned to Amelia. "As the purpose of your quest is to find and Contract Spirits across Threa, I believe we can pause a moment for you to seek any that might be in the area." He glanced back at Matt. "Unless the major has any objections?"

Matt really wanted to get the group moving, because the sooner they got moving the sooner this thing ended, but Joel had a point. Looking for Spirits was the entire purpose of the Summoner's Quest, and maybe if she found enough early on she'd call it off sooner. He shrugged. "No objections here."

She gave him a look as if to say, "Yeah, there better not be," and turned away to find a reasonably comfortable spot under a tree. She sat down, legs folded, and arranged her skirts to keep them covered (mostly; it was a rough task when there were slits that started at mid-thigh on either leg). After settling, she suddenly looked back up to Matt. "You know about the trance, right?"

Joel, presumably, already knew what she was talking about, having lived around summoners and the church for as long as he must have. Matt, however, knew relatively few summoners, and so he shook his head.

"Okay!" She sounded, maybe, a little too enthusiastic about giving an explanation. "A summoner's trance is when summoners project themselves onto the Spirit Plane so they can interact with it without the filter of the Mortal Plane in the way. Spirits like Terrate are active Spirits, who exist on the Mortal Plane and the Spirit Plane, but most Spirits are dormant Spirits who only exist on the Spirit Plane, so you can't find them unless you go there to-"

"Okay, Varista, I didn't need an essay."

She frowned at him.

"Go. Do your thing."

"It's a trance."

"Well, trance."

She huffed, but closed her eyes and took a deep breath and began to settle into her summoner's trance. Before long, her breathing slowed and her body relaxed, as if she'd fallen into sleep.

There was silence for a while, before Matt turned away from her and toward the forest at large. Guard duty was not a beast unknown to him. This was probably the entire reason summoners needed escorts in the first place.

Joel was the first one to speak. "You did something very kind last night."

That alone made Matt turn skeptical, and he gave Joel a matching look.

His pleasant smile never faded. "You took the time to help assuage Amelia's fears, instead of telling her to 'deal with it.' You didn't need to do that, but you did. You act as if you're constantly annoyed, but you're willing to go out of your way to be kind."

For some reason having it pointed out like that, put in those words, made him feel awkward about it. Maybe it was just the fact of who was saying it - that fourteen-year-old face with those wise priestly words. "Yeah, well. You lead soldiers for a while, you learn how to deal with people."

"Or become too jaded by them to bother trying anymore."

That, said in Joel's usual pleasant tone, caught Matt off-guard. He was stunned to silence for a brief moment before he recovered and tried to play it off. "Hah, I'm not a general yet," he replied with a roll of his eyes and a flippant shrug.

"How is it you came to be assigned to this task? Does the Delta 88th no longer need their commander?"

"Ah, the Delta Dragoons..." He'd been the captain in charge of that company up until his promotion to major. They were the ones who'd earned him his reputation. "Well, I'm not in charge of them anymore. I got promoted out of that position, and Varista just so happened to need an escort before I got officially assigned a new one."

"I see."

Silence fell. It was awkward, somehow. Joel didn't seem to feel it, but Matt was struck with the sudden urge to fill the silence with something. "How did you become a priest, Father? Pretty rare to find elves serving Alm like that."

There were reasons for that, of course. Elves and humans got along decently now, but the elves had served on Daruma's side of the Gods' War. It had taken centuries for Almsland to forgive them for that role, and even now elves were expected to be submissive towards the children of Alm and to be ashamed for their history. They were expected to pay a "racial debt" and to serve humanity in some way if they meant to live among humans.

Usually those who believed in their racial debt paid it by joining Almsland's military, but elves were generally bitter toward Alm's church and stayed away from service there. It wasn't unheard of to find elven priests, but it was rare enough to raise questions.

Joel answered this one without hesitation. "I applied for the priesthood, was accepted as a trainee, and proved my potential. I graduated from trainee status to assistant priest status, and after years of service was eventually promoted to full priest status. Much the same way as any other Almic priest becomes one, I suspect."

Matt stared at him. Technically, he'd answered the question he'd been asked. Humouring him, Matt tried a different approach. "Why did you become a priest?"

"Because I have a strong faith in Alm and the ways of Alm's teachings, and I felt that faith was best served by the priesthood."

He gave up humouring. "That isn't what I meant."

"No?"

That too-innocent question with its too-innocent smile made Matt quite aware that Joel knew exactly what he meant, and he wasn't going to answer it. What an ironically familiar conversation. Reluctantly he dropped it, making a note to ask Amelia about it later. She'd probably ramble about it for an hour or so, but such was the price of curiosity.

* * *

Amelia fell into her trance on the Mortal Plane, and stood up from her body on the Spirit Plane. She was used to the sight of it by now - she'd tranced many times in training and knew what to expect it to look like - but nonetheless she paused to take a look around, out of curiosity more than anything else.

The Spirit Plane, without its image being superimposed over the Mortal Plane's, looked like a black slate that had been shaded and drawn on with various colours of chalk. Yellow for air, green for earth, red for fire, blue for water, white for light, and grey for shadow. (She'd heard that purple was for death, but had yet to prove that; not many things in nature carried death as an innate element.)

She could see the outlines of her companions. Matt's bird was green, and - she noticed now - still tied down. Joel's outline was blue, which she'd already known. Certain personalities seemed to go with certain elemental innates, and Joel's calm, strong patience had always reminded her of water. She remembered being completely unsurprised the first time she'd seen it.

Matt's outline, on the other hand, was white. "...Huhhh, I was sure you were a shadow innate," she muttered, frowning.

There was something else that was stranger, though. She set her hands on her hips and peered around the campsite for a sign of Bernard. When she hadn't seen him all morning, she'd just assumed he'd crawled into the saddlebags again to sleep (he sure did sleep a lot), but even if that was the case, she should've been able to see him now.

Faeries existed on the Spirit Plane at full size and projected a miniature version of themselves onto the Mortal Plane. Heather, the faerie who accompanied Naomi, had explained it to her before. Faeries were actually human-sized, but could only appear that way on the Mortal Plane if they were powerful enough, and even then they could usually only do it for very short lengths of time.

But on the Spirit Plane, they would appear as their true size no matter what, just like Heather had every time Amelia had looked at her through her Spiritalker's sight. So even if Bernard had been sleeping in the saddlebags, she would have seen him here doing something like lounging on the bird's back instead.

If she couldn't see him, he wasn't here, and that made her curious.

"Bernard?" she called out, looking toward the green-outlined treetops. She gave it a few seconds. Nothing. Strange.

Well, she thought it was strange, anyway. For all she knew, maybe Bernard did this sort of thing all the time. Matt was the one who'd lived with him after all, not her. (And why, anyway? Was he really lying about that "true heir of Ramsthus" thing? Maybe Matt really was and he just didn't know, but then why would Ljasame, Queen of the Elves, send a faerie to watch over a human prince? She was kind of a mysterious lady, wasn't she? Maybe she had plans that only she knew and Matt was important to them somehow...)

This wasn't what she'd tranced for, anyway. She was supposed to be looking for Spirits, and faeries, Spiritual creatures though they may be, were not Spirits. So, with an air of determination, she adjusted her beret and set off into the woods.

It wasn't long before she found the road, and she stopped there to take another glance up at the sky, now visible through the trees. She thought that she'd never get used to looking up and seeing a yellow sky spotted with blue clouds. Even though it made sense elementally, it just went against common sense.

The road wasn't the best place to look for Spirits, though. She crossed it, heading into the trees on the other side. Branches rustling overhead caught her attention and she looked up to see a few brightly coloured bird-like things take flight.

Minor elementals. Not powerful enough to be Spirits and not smart enough to ever get powerful enough. The Mortal Plane had animals and people, and the Spirit Plane had elementals and Spirits.

Weird that they'd gone flying like that, though. Maybe her approach had scared them off, just like real birds.

The deeper in she walked, the more it felt like she could sense something here. Spirits, strong ones especially, had a sort of aura to them that Spiritalkers could sense. (And maybe mages, but she'd never asked one.)

It was a weak feeling, though. If it was a Spirit, it wasn't a very strong one. She stopped, frowning thoughtfully. Weak or not, she did need Contracts. And Spirits got stronger if they Contracted, too, so maybe it was worth it to keep looking.

Maybe she was wasting time, though, and the quicker she got to talk to the stronger Spirits in Ligaram the better.

Joel had told her that beastmen worshiped the Spirits (or at least really respected them), so Ligaram's Spirits were more common and more powerful. Ligaram even had its own version of summoners, sort of. In Ligaram, people with Spiritalking abilities became shamans, and learned how to talk to Spirits and work with them, but not how to Contract and summon them. So they were used to talking to people, but not competing for Contracts. And that was why Ligaram was a good choice (though she didn't know why Joel wanted to go to Wey exactly - he hadn't said).

"Bit lost, love?" A polite, strangely accented voice drew her out of her thoughts.

She whirled around to find a beastman standing there behind her. In full-colour, no less, which meant he was either a Spirit, or projecting himself too. ...Oddly, he was a Wyule beastman (she could tell because of the horn), and they came from Wey. That was a strange coincidence.

His eyebrows rose, and his black lips curled into a smile. "Sorry, did I surprise you?"

"Oh, uh." She gathered her thoughts and tried to form a response. "A little, yeah. I wasn't expecting to see anybody else here." She paused, cocking her head curiously. "Are you a Spirit?" He didn't feel like one, but it seemed worth asking.

"Me? No. I'm just your average everyday bloke, taking care of an errand." As he said it, his hand went into his coat, reaching around to his back.

An errand? "Are you looking for a Spirit here, too?"

He pulled out a knife, and his smile widened to show his canines. "No, love, I'm looking for a summoner."