#s:andrei

He hadn't actually intended to get anything, but one of the bookshop's wares — many discounted, in a hasty bid to gather coin to rebuild the damaged storefront — catches his eye, and he decides not only to purchase it, but also to make the effort to track down the recipient on the special day in question.

"Hilda," Andrei catches her attention in an unoccupied moment, "It is your birthday today, is it not?"

"You are of House Goneril of the Leicester Alliance, or so I have heard." In the same week as the Rusalka excursion, his own group had been sent to Goneril to acquire supplies. And while it hadn't been as bad as some of the other cities...

He takes a deep breath. Were they still in Jugdral, and were he some neighboring duke, there would be an art to speaking of such matters, of delicate insults and backhanded comments, spoken with a polite air.

...But he is not a duke any longer, and Hilda once roped him into fake dating her on that island, so Andrei feels somewhat less compelled to observe that complicated dance. He hands over the book, wrapped in a simple length of cloth that would be extremely easy to uncover, and waits for her to read the gold-printed title—

Territorial Management for the Beleaguered Noble

—before continuing. "Consider strategies to improve the public safety in your cities," he says bluntly, "We were beset by a near endless swarm of unruly ruffians, nobility and commoner alike, during our time there."

And they were there only a short time, too. He could hardly imagine what it would be like to live long-term in such a city, and wartime could only explain so much before the rest had to be chalked up to deep-seated social issues.

"There is no better way to ensure a peaceful year ahead than to minimize citizen unrest, after all," he says, "Though I do wish you a pleasant birthday today, even given the circumstances."

Hilda decided to at least give it until after her birthday until she followed the Golden Deer's orders to vacate the monastery. That way, she would get to celebrate with her friends, and her family would still be obligated to present her with gifts and host a feast in her honour -- it was a win-win!

One person she hadn't expected to seek her out, however, was her faux-ex from the reality show they'd lived through. Even less so had she expected to be presented with a cloth-wrapped flat box by his hand.

"Aww! You remember I broke up with you, right?" she teased, weighing the gift in her hands. It was relatively heavy for its size. "You shouldn't..." She pulled the cloth loose and examined the title of the book she was now holding. "Have..."

Territorial management? Improving public safety? She didn't understand. Was this payback? Had he really harboured such a grudge against her since Happyland?

But Hilda was good at reading people, and his tone, whilst blunt, was genuine. " ... Thanks so much! I'll... Cherish it!"

A strange sensation begins to overwhelm her. Surely, just moments ago she was enjoying the Rusalkan sunshine and the warm sand beneath her feet. Or had she been at the inn, sipping a hot cocoa in her nightgown and preparing to fall into a plush, comfortable bed. The roar of the crowd reverberates in her ears, so loudly it’s almost painful.

How did she get here?

A glance around her shows that she isn’t alone. She even recognises a couple of these faces - it’s hard not to remember Ophelia’s presence after all. Andrei too, looks frighteningly like his son Scipio. Hesitantly, she shuffles closer to the rest of them, taking in the sight of the vast arena. There’s something odd about the crowd, how the people’s eyes lack any light, any spark of life. Her fists curl around the... syringe she found in her hands upon awakening here. It’s vastly oversized and filled with a strange liquid.

“What should we do? I don’t know how I’m even here,” Julia laments, but she doubts she’s the only one with such questions. A bird caws at them from across the battlefield - huge and seemingly made of fire. Her mouth falls open in awe at the creatures majesty and the crowd cheers once more. Chants of “fight! fight!” fill the colosseum, making her head spin. It’s clear there will only be one way out. Julia steels herself, she will be brave and strong today, just like Seliph. “I-I’ll go first, please? I think I might be able to weaken it for the rest of you.”

Syringe held like a lance, Julia charges forward tentatively. Far too hesitant in the presence of such a fierce foe. The crowd and it’s deafening cheers disorient her. The moment she breaks out into a run, she trips, tumbling gracelessly to the ground in a heap. Her right ankle twists awkwardly but it isn’t pain that brings tears to her eyes. It’s shame. The mighty beast roars in rage and in an instant bears down upon her with it’s sharp, piercing beak, tearing into her shoulder as she lays face down in the dirt.

Julia uses Shatter Slash against Sun Form.  Roll d20+2: 1 (+2) = 3! Miss. Sun Form takes 0 damage. Sun Form counterattacks with Sharp Beak. Roll d20: 15! Hit. Julia takes 1.5 damage. Sun Form has 10/10 HP remaining Julia has 8.5/10 HP remaining.

It hurts. Yet it compares nothing to the pain of letting the others down. Failing her allies so early in their trial. Her arms quiver and shake beneath her as she tries to support her weight and get back up again.

She cannot fall here.

The Academy is always hard at work inventing new and extraordinary methods of helping its pupils find their true potential. One day, an announcement appears on the board, inviting all those interested in discovering something new about themselves to Lieutenant Lanton’s Loose Lottery. The idea is simple: Lieutenant Lanton hands you a weapon and puts you in front of another participant for you to spar with. The catch? You receive the first item he happened to grab and have to work with it, no matter what it is. No second chances! [Grants Any Skill +1]

Anything to improve oneself.

That had been Elincia’s reasoning, at least, for signing up to this circus. A chance to either improve an existing skill or to diversify her arsenal. It would also provide a great opportunity to see how her students were progressing in pursuit of their own goals. That had, at least, been the plan. Reality had a funny way of being far more unsual than her imagination.

Lieutenant Lanton hands her a child’s peashooter. Elincia wonders if she’s missing the punchline of this joke. Or if she is the punchline.

“Excuse me, sir? I think there’s been a mista--” “Don’t question me. Get back to work!”

Evidently, there was going to be no reasoning with this man. Elincia sighs, letting her shoulders slump as she reaches up to massage her temples. She’d be lucky to escape the day without an overbearing migraine at this rate. Look on the bright side, she tries to tell herself, searching in vain for a silver lining. What use would a toy be, either in sparring or on the battlefield? What situation would she find herself firing dried seeds at her foes? Certainly none that would require any practice or finesse.

Maybe it would help focus her aim? She really did feel as if she was grasping at straws with that one. Still, a cursory glance around her reveals that she isn’t the only one handling something that clearly is not intended to be used as a weapon. 

Truthfully, she’s almost thankful she isn’t brandishing a daikon radish at least.

“Oh, Andrei! It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Elincia greets the stern archer, relieved to see a familiar face at least. “I’m not quite sure how to spar with this, but would you care to be my partner?”

Over a decade has passed, yet Enbarr’s high street has barely changed at all. Even the crowds are as overwhelming as they are familiar. It takes her back in time, when she’d cling to Mother and Emile’s hands on their shopping trips. Mercedes feels an uneasy chill run down her neck. The urge to look over her shoulder.

There is nothing to fear. House Bartels fell years ago.

She recognises the bookshop, her old favourite, immediately at a brings a fond smile to her face. The clothing boutique next to it still stands too and the jewellers across. The food vendors are different but still stand in almost the same spots. The only glaring difference is a curio shop, decorated with bright posters reading ‘SALE’. It looks out of place in a way she can’t quite explain. As if she’s looking at it through a mirror. 

The smell of baked goods grabs her attention though. Her stomach makes a whine of protest and Mercedes realises that none of them have eaten since arriving. They couldn’t possibly start their investigations on empty stomachs! She pulls out her coin purse and clutches it in one hand, extending the other to her companions.

“We should probably hold hands so we don’t get lost in the crowd.” Even stood to the side they were bumped and jostled by passers by. It would be terrible if they were to be split apart and lost in such busy crowds, especially as only Linhardt was really familiar with these streets. “Let’s head over the street for some snacks first, my treat. We can discuss where to go and what to do once we’re filled up and energised!”

It was all they ever were, in the end, but they had both been there, both seen those figures with their own eyes. They'd seemed so real, their important people.

...He thinks Hilda might be able to understand why he would wish to know.

Hilda nodded glumly in response to the first part of Andrei's question. Their trip had been a success in the eyes of their leadership, but victory felt a lot worse than she might have anticipated.

Her gaze lifted to meet his as the second question escaped, and her eyes showed that she understood everything that he was asking. Those who'd accompanied her to Rusalka on this most recent trip didn't understand -- how could they? But those who had been there the first time, who had experienced first-hand the horrors of watching their loved ones die, would know the fear that returning to such a place might evoke --- the fear of what they might find there.

Garbed in the robes of a Saint feels sacrilegious, but with both staff and tome in hand, her weariness starts to fade somewhat. It has been a long, drawn out nightmare but at least she is equipped to be most useful to her allies. The quietly hopeful hint of a smile is painted across her face as both Andrei and Ophelia rise once more. Both radiant and glorious in their power, risen like the legendary phoenix. With both of them blazing brightly, surely there was nothing to fear.

Their foe, shaded and indistinct has other ideas though. There is nary a moment to catch their breath, to ask after everyone’s health and prepare to attack. In an instant it’s right up in Ophelia’s face and, panic ridden, Julia rushes over to his side too.

“Don’t you dare! Not my dear friend--” she shouts, clutching the Luce tome to her chest. Their is no time to call upon illusory warriors, or to prepare much aid. Julia comes to a halt, transfixed in horror. Ophelia isn’t under attack, thank whichever gods and goddesses have chosen to answer her prayers, but the vague form of their foe warps into a disturbing deconstruction of her friend. An arm here, an eye and smirking mouth over there... none of it connected, all of it lacking the bright, divine spark that makes Ophelia so wonderful. Rather, it dissects and scatters the heroine of Dusk, so terribly that if Ophelia wasn’t stood whole right next to her, she thinks she might faint from the implication. “I can hardly bear to look at it. Ophelia, is it hurting you?”

There are no wounds or marks of which she can see, but pain can be inflicted in the strangest of ways. Julia is careful and cautious to focus only on the real Ophelia, rather than the abomination before them. Something stirs though, she can feel it as she turns her head to call out.

“Everyone, be careful! It’s about to try something, I’m sure--”

Before she can finish her sentence, it’s myriad of eyes (except Ophelia’s) appear to shoot at them. Glowing light bursts from it’s eyes and whilst she, Nyna and Lloyd are able to jump out of the way in time, the same cannot be said for Andrei and Ophelia. Both frozen solid and Ophelia - her own gaze appears a million miles away. Their connection, severed abruptly, makes her wants to weep in despair. Julia takes a shuddering breath to steel herself. She must stay strong, must be brave if she wishes to be of any aid to either of them. Instinctively, she steps between the enemy and Ophelia, knees knocking together but refusing to tear eyes away from the many cold, unfeeling compound eyes that dot it’s ambiguous form,

“Nyna, Lloyd, please watch out for Andrei too. I’ll keep guard here,” and it is to her great relief that this creature without form chooses her as it’s prey. At least the others will be safe and unharmed. At least. It strikes without mercy, hitting her square in the chest with a ball of light. Almost knocking her off her feet, she adjusts her stance and balance before fighting back. What a fool she was, not to simply take Ophelia’s hand and run. Like her friend it is swift and relentless, unlike Ophelia it is determined to choke out her last breath.

Mimic attacks Julia with Luce Roll d20: 5! Hit. 1 damage to Julia Julia counterattacks with Luce Roll d20: 9! Hit. 2 damage to Mimic Julia takes 2 damage from Thorny Hide Mimic follows up with Luce Roll d20: 12! Hit. 1 damage to Julia Mimic has 38/10 HP remaining Julia has been defeated

It’s knocked out of her by a blow to the chest as her skin loses any hint of colour or life beneath it. Light, her birthright, finally brings her down in a way even the flames of chaos could not hope to. Her knees buckle beneath her as she falls forward, terrified and desperate - she had to stay on her feet, had to fight and protect her precious friends. Black tendrils dance across her vision, she cannot fight it much longer. The abyss calls out and pulls her under. It takes the last, fading morsels of her strength to please.

She expects to stir awake slowly, taking in her surroundings. Needing a moment to remember where she is. Safe, not in that blasted colosseum, battling monsters and watching her allies crumple beneath talons and beaks ripping into their skin. It’s a rather rude awakening.

She is still here, standing in the arena. The terrifying bird they faced off against is replaced by a metallic behemoth, dwarfing all five of them, and three smaller monsters. Would this nightmare never end? Julia clutches the shield the adorns her closer to her body and feels warmth emanate from it. How very strange, but certainly not an unwelcome boon.

Seiros Shield restores 1 HP to Julia Julia has 7.5/10 HP remaining

Garbed in the robes of a priest, Julia slinks over to where Andrei and Lloyd both struggle to stand. She’s hit by the crushing realisation she can only heal one of them. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth but -- “Andrei, sir? Could you please heal Lloyd for me?” The lord of Yngvi would not be able to heal himself, but he could help relieve her burden. Choice made, she calls upon the light, warm and familiar. Yet her hands still shake - desperate to escape. Her unease is palpable and it limits her capabilities, even at something so natural to her as the healing arts.

Julia cast Recover on Andrei. Roll d20: 4! 5 HP recovered Andrei has 6.5/10 HP remaining.

He looks sturdier on his feet at least, although she had truly wished to do more for him. No longer on the brink of fainting though, she steps back and notices he carries a shield of his own. Perhaps it will be of aid to him, too.

“Oh, sir? Your shield... it may gift you yet more vigor and vitality!”

Brisk winds whipped at Elincia’s face as she exited the infirmary tent, in dire need of a moment to herself. There was so little she could do to help the sick and injured when their water supply was stained black as ink. Trying to rehydrate patients was futile, the dirty water simply made them even more ill. Rinsing wounds to prevent infections was a losing battle too - whatever was in the water smelled foul and was akin to rubbing mud into the wounds. She let out a deep, long sigh, allowing her shoulders to fall. The situation felt utterly hopeless.

It was then that the first drop of rain splashed against her cheek. Turning her face up to the heavens, Elincia took in the dark storm clouds gathered above. As if struck by lightning, she had an idea.

If she could manoeuvre through the storm succesfully astride Chrysaor with some buckets, the water could be boiled to sterilise it and used in the infirmary. It was risky but she believed in him - proud and brave as he was. There was only a brief window of opportunity though and it would be difficult to gather enough water alone.

“Lord Andrei?” Elincia approached the young man, one of the only other students here and thankfully, another pegasus rider. They’d barely had occasion to speak, what with the chaos they’d found here. “I was hoping you could assist me with something.”

It was one thing to put herself in danger but another entirely to request that of another. Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before rising to meet his face. This wasn’t a demand and he was free to turn her down. Cowering away and hiding from his eyes just showed her own weakness and insecurity. Who would be convinced by a woman so meek? So Elincia straightened her posture and did her best to smile in spite of their circumstances.

“The patients and villagers require clean water. If we can collect enough from the storm and boil it, we could save lives. I intend to fly close to the clouds to collect the rain.” A pregnant pause passes between them. Her appeal was inferable but she owed him the respect of voicing it aloud. “I was hoping you’d be willing to do the same. The villagers need safe drinking water and the patients need clean water. There’s some danger but I trust in both of our skills.”