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It is a day like any other.
The autumn sun rises over the distant hills of the Marrow Valley, the first rays brushing the rooftops of Trostenwald. This early in the morning, the Amber Road lies quiet, and the town itself is only beginning to stir.
At a crossroads near the town centre stands a two-story building. A little run-down. Weathered. Unremarkable. The sign outside reads: The Nestled Nook Inn.
-
The monster’s last cries subside, leaving behind no sound but the faint crackle of the Aeorian device at their backs.
Fjord permits himself a deep sigh as he dismisses the Star Razor from his hand. This has not been, all told, the longest day of his life. Far too long for him to be dealing with yet another ancient monstrosity, though.
“Did we get them all?”
He turns to face Yasha, who’s come up behind him. The Aeorian security checkpoint got a hit in on her, so she looks a touch singed, not that it seems to bother her.
“I think so,” Fjord answers her question, pausing to listen down the tunnel for more haunting cries. “Apparently, they hunt only in pairs.”
Yasha, bless her, appears to be genuinely disappointed that there’s no need to sever another eyeball the size of Fjord’s head from some creature’s tail. “All clear,” she calls over her shoulder to their friends. “We think.”
Fjord does a silent headcount as the Mighty Nein trail into the darkened tunnel one by one. First Beau, who scans him for dire injuries with a glance before twirling her staff in one hand and winking at Yasha. Veth and Caleb are right on her heels, the latter rather bloodied. A step behind them is Essek, who seems more concerned for Caleb’s state than Caleb himself, and quite obviously hasn’t a single clue what to do about it. Caduceus is the last to enter the tunnel, with an irritated glance over his shoulder like the creatures offended him personally.
Jester, as ruffled and drained as the others, strolls right past Fjord to yank her axe out the monster’s corpse, a smug air about her. “I heard you calling for help, Fjord.”
He places a hand over his chest, miming his best impression of a heroine from one of the romance books his friends have subjected him to against his will. “My hero,” he says, only half-joking.
Jester’s grin makes nearly being bitten in half by an eye-panther beast entirely worth it.
“Shall we keep going, then?”, Veth asks, already peering into the darkness ahead. Where that woman gets her unrelenting drive from, Fjord doesn’t know, but he can’t help but admire it. For his part, he thinks he might fall asleep on his feet soon.
“Or we could rest,” Caduceus suggests, dragging a hand through his tangled pink hair. “We’re low on spells. I think we can all agree that Jester throws a mean axe” – he eyes the dead creature on the ground – “but if we run out of healing…it won’t be pretty.”
“Agreed,” Fjord says. “We’re in no state to pick a fight with Lucien, and we have to sleep at some point.”
“Right here?” Beau glances around the space sceptically.
“Well,” Fjord nudges the growing bloodstain on the ground with one boot. “We should probably get a little further away, just in case something else heard us fighting.”
“Good point.” Beau looks down at Veth. “Want to scout ahead?”
“Sure!”
Just like that, they’re off into the darkness, quick and silent.
Caduceus turns to Yasha. “You’d think it would be our turn to scout ahead together at some point.”
“Right,” Yasha nods, straight-faced but with a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “I mean, you and I would be perfect for it.”
“I can’t believe we’ve never thought of that.”
Together, the two of them amble down the tunnel, following Beau and Veth at a much slower pace.
Shaking his head with fond exasperation, Fjord turns, expecting to find Jester still next to him.
Instead, she’s back at the entrance to the room they’ve just left behind, her form illuminated by the strange blue lighting crackling in the giant sphere.
“There’s a chest in the other corner,” she reports. “Should we check it out? It could be helpful.”
Caleb joins her to eye the room over her shoulder. “It could be, but there’s quite a bit of lightning between us and that chest.”
“Could you cast your globe again?” A familiar curiosity creeps into Jester’s voice. “How did you know that would work, anyway?”
“Not today, I can’t,” Caleb answers. “And I, ah – made an educated guess. The spell shields you from magical attacks, and that” – he nods up to the Aeorian device – “is powered by arcane means at least in part.”
Jester hums thoughtfully. “Do you think we could dispel it, then? If we wanted to investigate the room before we sleep?”
“I don’t know.” There’s a beat, as their wizard attempts to reign in his academic enthusiasm and fails miserably. “Possibly.”
“Ten feet distance, right?” With that, Jester catches Caleb by the sleeve and tugs him into the room after her.
Essek opens his mouth, one hand raised in caution, but isn’t nearly fast enough. He stares after them for a second, then looks to Fjord. “Shouldn’t we stop them?”
“Us? Stop Jester?” Fjord walks past him and leans in the doorway, crossing his arms nonchalantly. “We’ve got a few minutes until Beau and Veth pick a defensible place to camp. Longer, if they start to argue about it.”
Inside the chamber, Jester and Caleb have stopped just short of the range of the lightning and are merrily bickering over their options, their voices carrying a slight echo.
“We could sneak past the side and drag the chest out of lightning range.”
“Drag it with what? A rope? Actually, do you have that whip?”
“No, I gave it to Fjord ages ago. We could lasso it, though!”
Fjord does still have the whip, but he’s not about to volunteer it for this venture. Not that it seems likely that they’ll actually ask; Jester is bouncing in place a little to keep warm, and Caleb is smiling slightly – both of them obviously just doing this for their own entertainment. Contrary to what he said to Essek, Fjord could very easily appeal to their common sense to get them to leave. Just – not yet.
“Hey!” Veth appears at his elbow, sudden and silent like one of her bolts. “What are you guys still doing back here?
“Pushing our luck,” Fjord says, nodding at the interior of the chamber.
“Hmm.” Veth narrows her eyes, seemingly more put out by Jester and Caleb doing something ill-advised and dangerous without her than anything else.
“If one of us turned into a moth, do you think the lightning would still hit us?”
Essek lets out a low noise of distress, another crack in his poised demeanour. He’s shifting nervously beside Fjord, likely torn between his worry and his own curiosity.
Fjord trades an amused glance with Veth, who is watching Essek with interest as well. They could tell him that Caleb and Jester are just messing around, but this is actually quite informative. It has been something, watching Essek put his money where his mouth is when it comes to his claims of caring for the Mighty Nein.
Regardless –
“You found a place to camp?”, he asks Veth.
At her nod, Fjord tilts his head toward the chamber. “I’m going to go make sure our friends haven’t encountered another monster. Keep an eye on these two for me.”
“Yell if something starts to eat you,” Veth says distractedly, her own curiosity gleaming in her dark eyes as she studies the Aeorian device.
As he begins to walk down the tunnel, Fjord just catches Essek’s voice behind him. “Division of labour in this group is fascinating.”
He chuckles to himself.
The others have settled on a small crossroads for a campsite, just a few hundred feet away from the lightning chamber. Beau and Yasha are leant up against the wall, quite obviously flirting. Caduceus and his long-suffering expression are seated on the opposite side of the small space, next to a pile of rubble from a small cave-in.
He glances up from his pack as Fjord sits down beside him. “Hey.”
Fjord offers him a small smile. “I left the wizards and the detectives alone in the chamber with the weird lightning, so that might be the last we’ve seen of them.”
Caduceus lets out a low, rumbling laugh. “Possibly.”
“All quiet here?”
“I’ve been keeping an ear out,” Caduceus reassures him. “No sign of monsters or our…friends.”
The ironic tint to the word ‘friends’ makes Fjord’s lips quirk in dark amusement, but it also reminds him how fortunate they are to have Caduceus with them – in addition to the thousand obvious reasons.
Out of all of them, Caduceus and Essek are the only ones who can size up Lucien with anything approaching objectivity. And while Fjord likes Essek quite a bit, he has a spotty track record with judgement calls.
Fjord wishes he could be clear-sighted where Lucien is concerned, but he’s no longer in the habit of lying to himself. He’ll just have to let Caduceus see for him. That, Fjord has some experience with.
His reverie is interrupted by the arrival of the four straggles. An exasperated Veth walks in front, looking for all the world like she hasn’t nearly gotten them all killed on at least three separate occasions because she chose to stay behind to steal or investigate something.
Behind her, Jester and Caleb are no more singed than before, though their hair is floating about their heads, making them look ridiculous. As Fjord watches, Essek reaches up as if to touch the cloud of red hair that surrounds Caleb, before he catches himself and tugs his hand back quickly.
“Finally,” Beau calls out. “I was about to come drag you all here.”
“Did you get the chest?”, Fjord asks Jester as she flops down next to him.
“We gave up,” she informs him dejectedly. “Because the fate of the world depends on us being alive to stop Lucien, or whatever.”
Her belligerent tone and the grim words are entirely at odds with the blue hair sticking up from her head in all directions. Smothering a grin, Fjord raises a hand to smooth it down, a spark catching on his fingers as he does so.
“Don’t laugh at me, Fjord!”
Apparently, his grin wasn’t smothered very effectively.
“I’m not, I’m not,” he insists. “I think it’s a look.”
Jester knocks her shoulder into his chest in retaliation, then stays there, a warm weight tucked up under his chin. Fjord blows some floating strands of hair out of his face and hopes she cannot tell how fast his heart is beating.
In the meantime, his friends have started to bicker again. Fjord isn’t sure why they are arguing about the edibility of Aeorian insects, and joining a Mighty Nein-conversation halfway through is often an exercise in futility, so he just settles back against the wall more comfortably.
The only other person who hasn’t joined the debate is their wizard, who is ignoring the mayhem around him with practised ease. Caleb sits cross-legged on the ground on Caduceus’ other side, his spellbook open in front of him as he casts the dome.
Fjord hasn’t ever thanked Caleb for carrying their home around in his careful hands, he realizes as he watches him. He will do that, someday soon, when the words won’t sound like a goodbye.
Feeling secure in the knowledge that the dome is about to be up, Fjord closes his eyes.
He and Caduceus haven’t discussed it in so many words, but they are both keenly aware of how far from the Wildmother’s domain they are in Aeor.
Nature is everywhere, though. In the freezing air around him, the could stone under his feet, the slight echo of his friends’ voices.
Fjord focuses on it all for a moment, then lets it fade away as he listens inward. The warmth is there inside him, always; sometimes it’s a gentle stream, other times a tidal wave.
He draws in a deep breath, focuses on the swirling warmth –
“Fjord? Are you alright?”
“He’s meditating, Veth, leave him alone.”
“Should we let him meditate in here? What if he gets a red eye, too?”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“We don’t know, though. You didn’t think you’d get one by reading that book.”
“As someone who has prayed to the Wildmother since we got here, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.”
“It might.”
“He has been still a long time. Do you think he’s alright?”
“Fjord? Hey, Fjord, what are you doing?”
“Communing with the Somnovem,” he tells them dryly, his eyes still closed.
“You should ask Lucien what he’s up to,” Beau proposes. “He seemed to really hate that when I did it.”
With a deep sigh, Fjord opens his eyes. His friends have all arranged themselves in their customary untidy circle within the dome, leaning against some fallen rubble or each other. Fjord meets Caduceus’ gaze, who gives him a slow, pointed nod in commiseration.
“Do you remember when I told you how impressive it is that you’ve learned to meditate while living with these people?”
“I do,” Fjord says. “I think about it often.”
“You know what we should do?” Yasha looks around the circle. “Another group meditation. That way we won’t bother Fjord, and – you know, it was really nice last time.”
“You want to do a group meditation here?” Essek sweeps a hand out toward the darkened ruins of Aeor around them.
“Why not?” Beau sits up, smiling first at Yasha, then cracking her knuckles as she addresses the whole group. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“We’ve done one in a zombie infested swamp,” Caduceus tells Essek. “This really is an upgrade.”
“It’s a wonderful idea, Yasha,” Jester asserts.
Veth nods. “Let’s do it!”
“You can’t all fall asleep this time, though,” Beau says as she resettles herself, crossing her legs under her. “We haven’t even eaten yet.”
“If anyone falls asleep, you can kick them awake,” Caleb suggests.
“I like that.” Beau points at him. “We’ll go with that.”
“Only if we fall asleep, though,” Fjord feels the need to emphasise. “Don’t kick us just because you feel like it.”
“Of course not.”
One by one, the Mighty Nein close their eyes. Before he follows suit, Fjord takes a moment to study Beau.
Without anyone’s eyes on her, some of her practiced confidence falls away, giving a glimpse into exhaustion and fear he knows she would loathe to admit to.
Beau meets his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him in a silent question.
Fjord gives her his firmest nod.
We’ve got this.
His friend’s lips quirk into the hint of a smile, and she returns his nod.
Feeling somehow bolstered, Fjord shuts his eyes, listening to the low tones Beau slips into as she guides them all through meditation.
Fjord breathes in, deeply. Considers his guilt, his burdens, his fears – and breathes out.
Let’s them all go.
-
The shock of the previous day still sits in Nott’s bones, and she can tell Caleb feels much the same.
Their decision to come to a town instead of remaining in the woods seems even more risky in the harsh light of the morning, but they have already made it. And with good reason too; it’s barely autumn now, but come winter they will either freeze or starve in the wilderness.
“Yesterday was really not great”, Caleb says quietly.
At the words, Nott has to shake the image of him lying in a pool of his own blood, utterly motionless. She pushes down the memory, but the terror lingers.
She has nothing if she loses Caleb. She can’t bear the thought of returning to that.
“Yeah well”, she answers, willing the words to be true as she speaks. “We’ll do better today, right?”
“Sure.” Nott can tell Caleb doesn’t really believe in it, but he smiles at her anyway. “Sure, we will. Are you hungry?”
Nott is twitchy as her and Caleb gather up their meagre possessions. Well – more twitchy than usual. She’d hoped her nightly excursion would soothe some of her restlessness; instead, she might have been spotted by the Crownsguard already, barely a day into town.
As they come down the stairs, they find the tavern crowded despite the early hour. Nott affixes her mask to her face, searching the room for guards instinctively. That she doesn’t find any doesn’t ease the nervous tension in her shoulders.
Find some books, find some booze, she reminds herself. Don’t get caught by the Crownsguard. They already have goals for the day, that’s better than nothing.
Make it a better day than yesterday was.
-
Their impromptu group meditation only lasts about ten minutes.
Or, Caduceus assumes it was something around that time. If he asked him, Caleb could probably pin it down to the second.
Regardless, after ten-to-fifteen minutes, their meditation is interrupted by someone’s stomach growling loudly.
Jester giggles.
“Right.” A sharp clap punctures the tranquillity of the moment as Beau very effectively startles everyone back to alertness. “I think we’re good on mindfulness for the night.”
With a fond huff, Caduceus blinks his eyes back open.
His friends all stretch and straighten up around him, rubbing at weary eyes and rolling back tense shoulders. The general exhaustion is tangible in the air.
“None of you fell asleep this time,” Jester cheers them on. “Good job!”
“I nearly nodded off a bit,” Yasha tells her. “Beau just has a really soothing voice, you know?”
Beau winks at her, opening her mouth to reply –
“So, what’s for dinner?”, Fjord asks loudly.
“Your favourite,” Caduceus deadpans, grasping his holy symbol to create food and water.
“Ah, tasteless slob. Really, Caduceus, you shouldn’t have.”
Jester elbows Fjord in the side. “It’s a really good spell, Fjord.”
“Yeah!” Surely, Veth must have caught on to Fjord and him being ironic, but she apparently cannot pass up the opportunity to pile on. “You’re being really rude, and that after Caduceus laboured over dinner for us – “
“Okay, okay.” Fjord raises both hands placatingly. He catches Caduceus’ eye, warmth in his tone. “Seriously, though, thank you for not letting us starve to death.”
That prompts a series of similar expressions of gratitude, everyone talking over each other in a jumble of words and voices.
Caduceus smiles. Ridiculous people.
They all tuck into their flavourless meal, hungry enough not to mind at this point. As they eat, seated in the comforting warm light of the dome, Caduceus lets himself imagine that they’re somewhere else. Below deck on their ship, in the wastes of Xhorhas, in the depths of the Happy Fun Ball – that part doesn’t really matter.
Although sometime else might be more apt, now that he thinks about it. Caduceus wouldn’t mind being in Aeor if they didn’t have to die tomorrow.
A vision flickers across his mind, there and gone in the blink of an eye. The Mighty Nein, gathered – as they are now – around a meal. Unlike now, they are sitting in soft grass, surrounded by flowers. Streaks of silver thread most of their hair, and terrible weights have been lifted from their shoulders.
Caduceus wants it to be a sign from the Wildmother, but suspects it’s merely his own wishful thinking.
A small hand settles onto his elbow, bringing him back to reality.
“Caduceus, could we please have some tea?”
The question, commonplace as it is by now, never fails to make him smile. Veth is the one asking tonight, but it’s a different one of them each time. They have tea almost every day, and Caduceus cannot remember the last time he suggested it himself.
“Sure.” He drags his pack over, his hands going for his multitude of different teas, before he pauses. “Actually, hang on. I have a better idea.”
His friends – who know better than to wait for him to elaborate – return to their easy bickering.
Caduceus, meanwhile, pulls the cups from his pack. Seven weathered, worn and well-loved, one a touch more unblemished.
The cups bear the mark of their long trek across the continent and the sea. One has a crack on the rim from a time Veth snuck up on Fjord to spook him. Another has had a piece of green string tied around it for months now – for luck, Yasha said back then, and did not elaborate. All seven are stained with ink splotches – from Caleb and Beau – and splatters of paint – Jester’s, of course. There’s a blood stain on the handle of one cup that Caduceus keeps forgetting to wash off.
He lines them all up, goes about heating some water, and adds a ball of hot chocolate to each cup.
His friends only catch on when the smell begins to waft through the dome. It’s amusing how quickly they abandon their conversation, all of them perking up like young pups.
“I thought it might warm us up a bit more,” Caduceus says with smile.
Yasha returns it as she hands a cup bearing yellow and violet paint splashes over to Beau and takes the one with the crack for herself. “Thank you, Caduceus.”
“Yeah.” Beau accepts the cup with a soft smile to Yasha, then tosses Caduceus a more familiar grin. “What would we do without you, Cad?”
“Die horrible deaths,” he suggests flatly, making Fjord snort into his hot chocolate.
He passes the eighth cup, originally acquired because his mother raised him to always be prepared for guests, over to Essek. Although it has seen some use between Orly, Twiggy, Yeza, Raeni, Vilya, Dagen and Essek, it is the only one that still resembles the cups Caduceus bought his first time through Zadash, pale grey and whole.
Essek thanks him with a polite nod and the slight bafflement that seems to have made a permanent home on his features, shivering as he wraps both hands around his steaming cup. “Indeed, I could use a little warming up.”
Across the circle of their friends, Caleb frowns. He rummages through his own pack for a moment and produces one of their wool blankets. “You should hold onto this, it’s warmer than a cloak.”
Essek hesitates. “I wouldn’t wish to – “
Caleb neatly ends the handwringing by tossing the blanket at his head.
Essek’s reflexes kick in at the last second, and he catches the blanket before it would hit him square in the face. Jester audibly smothers a giggle.
It’s Fjord’s trick, Caduceus notes, just to himself. It’s what he would do to Caleb when he was being stubborn and ridiculous. The lesson has stuck better than intended, because Caleb has started doing it to Fjord as well, the two of them tossing rations and waterskins, an Ioun Stone and an Amulet of Protection, healing potions and spare pillows to each other whenever one of them starts to demur.
“Thank you,” Essek says with dignity. The flat glare he gives Caleb is somewhat undermined by the way he wraps himself up immediately.
“It is technically yours anyway,” Caleb tells him, half-smiling. “We took that blanket from the Xhorhaus the last time we left.”
From the corner of his eye, Caduceus catches the pointed face Veth pulls at Jester, who grins back at her and wiggles her eyebrows. No one has breathed so much as a word about whatever it is that’s hanging in the air between the two wizards, but they have all caught on to it. It isn’t Caduceus’ field of expertise, but the Mighty Nein aren’t known for their restraint where the affairs of others are concerned. Especially when it comes to each other’s affairs. One of his friends will pick their moment to interrogate their wizard, and it will be an inopportune one.
Caduceus just hopes they all to live long enough to tease Caleb about it.
The conversation moves on. Veth makes yet another reference to Fjord’s hair – or, following Aeor’s wild magic, lack thereof. The others join her happily in the ribbing. Caduceus leans back against the rubble as he listens, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
He does not tell them that he used up their last batch of it for tonight.
-
Fjord shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
He’s grateful for the silver the fisher compensated them with, of course he is. That doesn’t mean he can’t wish it had happened in a less public place.
As his new acquaintance – Beau, one hell of a fighter with one hell of an attitude, if the last twenty-four hours are anything to go by – valiantly attempts to divide the money into three equal shares, Fjord scans the room for prying eyes.
Three gentlemen, all of them human, are indeed watching their table from across the room. Fjord takes a swig of ale and narrows his eyes at them over the rim of his tankard, affecting Vandren’s unassailable demeanour.
Surprisingly, it works like a charm; all three avert their gazes. The spark of self-satisfaction barely has time to settle, though, before Fjord takes note of the table adjacent to their own.
Seated there are two figures. Another human man, about Fjord’s own age, bruised and filthy, and a smaller, hooded shape – a halfling perhaps? The man’s eyes are fixed down on his drink, but his companion is leaning toward their table surreptitiously. Fjord can just make out the glint of yellow eyes beneath the hood.
Creepy.
Both strangers are thin under their ragged clothes, he notes, his sense of unease growing. Fjord knows more than he’d care to admit about the dangerous combination that hungry and desperate make. He leans in closer to his companions.
“I think we have people watching us.”
He sees Jester perk up, while Beau’s eyes sharpen with something like curiosity. Interesting. Fjord didn’t take her for the inquisitive type, with all her careless attitude. He files the observation away for later.
“Who is watching us?”
He tips his head to one side slightly. “Well, just look over there.”
Both women’s heads swivel in the direction of the neighbouring table. Fjord sighs internally, bracing for some kind of confrontation.
He can’t wait to get out of this place and back on the road.
-
Jester fiddles with one of Artie’s figurines, her hands restless.
This time of night she normally uses for sketching, just after dinner but before they all go to sleep. Everyone else is acting like they usually do. Caduceus is immersed in his own prayers, Yasha is tending to the sword she borrowed from Kima, Beau and Caleb have their heads bent together over Beau’s notes. Fjord has shifted over to join them while he works on a rough map of the part of Aeor they explored today, occasionally nudging Caleb when he wants an approximation of a certain distance.
Essek is reading over Beau’s shoulder, not that he will get much from her notes. Jester has seen Beau’s notes – and drawn googly eyes in them – and they’re tricky to decipher even for her. Veth is right next to Jester, sorting through her pack in an attempt to find Traveller-knows-what. A small pile – made up of various tools, the Dagger of Denial, a tiny vase, a fluffernutter, a few bolts, and a golden cobra statue – has already grown next to her.
Jester wants to sketch, she really does. She has a lot to get on paper, like the Frost Giants, or the abandoned streets, or Fjord’s comical expression when he lost all his hair. She could try and outline the weird lightning or the eye-monsters, and she’s been meaning to get more practice drawing Essek.
She really does want to sketch, and yet –
Jester watches her friends.
She has drawn them all so many times. Rendered them in charcoal, in oil, in water colours, sketched them, painted them, abstracted them. She’s made caricatures and portraits, has drawn out tiny details or put down hasty outlines.
Yasha, bent over her harp as she plays or with her face tipped back in the rain, her light-and-shadowed hair falling over broad shoulders, her beautiful eyes almost obscured.
The arch of Beau’s brows, the swift crack of her staff through the air, the way she tilts her head at tracks or carvings when she’s crouched in the dirt to investigate.
Different shades of pink fading through Caduceus’ hair, his hands brushing the leaves of plants, his movements rarely hurried and always deliberate.
The wide-eyed look Caleb gets when he’s touched by something and the pattern of the freckles that dust his cheeks.
Veth, throwing her head back in laughter, arguing with sweeping, expansive gestures, doing something selfless and stupid with a glimmer in her brown eyes. It was a fair bit of work, learning Veth’s features anew once she got her own body back, but that glimmer has been there since the day they met.
Fjord, his upright posture and the slight spring in his step, visible even from afar. His tusks, a gleam of white on deep green. The mingling shades of yellow and gold in his eyes, and the way they crinkle with tenderness when he smiles. His steady hands, quick on the rigging or with a sword, gentle when they hold her. The masks that can slip over his changeable face, his bright sense of humour, the strength of his convictions shining out of his eyes.
She knows their features so well, by now; better than any on Exandria except for her mama’s. Jester used to wonder at that, at how deeply she could know these people, her friends.
At how deeply they’ve come to know her, too.
Jester knows how Caleb, Caduceus, Veth and Fjord move their hands to weave magic, each distinct from each other. She’s caught Veth’s quick fingers at thievery, knows the shade of Beau’s blush when she notices Yasha watching her.
She could paint them all, down to the last detail, from memory alone.
That last thought is a frightening one, so Jester is relieved when Veth lets out a small cheer of victory next to her.
“There you are!”
Jester scoots closer to her. “What were you looking for?”
“Oh, just the right screw.” Veth waves it in front of Jester’s face. “One of the mechanisms on the Bolt Blaster is jammed, I think.”
“Is that why you shot yourself in the eye earlier?”, Jester asks innocently, already dodging the inevitable elbow to her ribcage.
“Yes,” Veth says empathically. “No other reasons.”
Grinning, Jester studies her as Veth tugs the crossbow over into her lap. Her earlier thoughts return to her, of what it had been like to relearn her friend’s features.
Jester practiced drawing Veth Brenatto, back when that name still sounded strange in her ears. Back when she had nothing to go on but illusion spells cast for a limited duration. She’s never been brave enough to present Veth with any of the results. It felt…too raw.
Nothing like the threat of imminent death to make you braver than you really are.
“I’m going to show you something,” Jester decides, already going for her bag.
“Okay.” Veth abandons her tinkering and half-leans on Jester’s shoulder as she rifles through her belongings. “That’s not ominous at all.”
From near the bottom of the haversack Jester pulls a sketchbook, bound in deep blue leather. The one her mama gifted her when they left Nicodranas after their first stint as pirates, carried all the way to Xhorhas.
“Here.” The drawing is within the first pages, done the evening they spent in Felderwin. It’s Veth, but…not quite. The roundness of the cheeks is slightly exaggerated, Jester thinks critically. Her eyes are overly large, the lines of her face are too sharp. There’s a couple of smaller renditions on the next page, none of which were to Jester’s satisfaction. “I drew this just after we found out about your past.”
“And here.” Jester skips further ahead, to a sketch of Veth on the beach, playing with Luc. The proportions are better, but the hair is off – too straight and smooth, lacking Veth’s natural fringe. “I did this one the day we took Yeza to Nicodranas. And this –”
Another series of drawings, an attempt to map out her friend’s familiar expressions on that unfamiliar face. Veth grinning, laughing, rolling her eyes; Veth with her face scrunched up in concentration, with a blush and a smile. Better than Jester’s previous tries, but still not quite right.
“I didn’t know if you’d want to see them,” Jester says, her friend’s silence making her nervous. “Because I know it was difficult for you, not looking like you really do, and these aren’t any good – “
“Why did you draw these?”, Veth asks softly. There’s a strange note in her voice that Jester thinks might be wonder.
She can only shrug. “It’s a part of you,” she says, honestly.
Veth runs her fingers along the surface of the sketch. She then flips a few pages back, to a different drawing of herself. Only this one is Nott, in her goblin body. She’s chasing Beau up a snowy tree and cackling madly.
Veth leafes through the sketchbook, occasionally pausing on a page. Nott, rendered in colour, with her face tilted to the sky and the sun in her hair. A caricature of her, with one comically large eye looking through her magnifying glass. Nott sitting next to Caleb, who is sliding a flower behind her ear.
Jester watches the complicated expression on Veth’s face through it all, chewing at her lip.
“Fuck gold and shiny stuff,” Veth says at last, raising her eyes from a drawing of Fjord and Caduceus in front of a campfire, the smoke forming leaves and vines around them. “I should have been stealing your art.”
Jester grins, relived. “You really should have.”
Veth catches her hand and kisses to the back of it. “These are beautiful, Jessie.”
“Thank you, Veth,” Jester breathes. She leans down until she can rest her chin on top of her friend’s head.
“You barely draw yourself,” Veth notes as she turns a few more pages.
“I’ve never liked it that much,” Jester shrugs again. “Always more interesting things around to draw, you know?”
“Well, I happen to think you’re very interesting,” Veth chides. “And after all this is finished, I’ll commission you for – for a portrait, of all of us. Then you’ll have to practice drawing yourself.”
“Okay.” Jester smiles, even as nausea turns her stomach. After all this is finished…
She grips Veth’s hand tighter.
“Hey, Veth?” They raise their heads to look over at Yasha. While Jester and Veth were going through the book, Yasha, Beau and Caleb appear to have abandoned their previous tasks and are now all studying the map over Fjord’s shoulder. “The room with the tower we collapsed, did it have any other exits? Do you remember?”
Fjord and Beau’s eyebrows shoot up, and Caleb straightens sharply. “The tower you – “
“You mean the tower that spontaneously collapsed on its own?”, Veth interrupts pointedly. “While we were outside of the room looking in?”
“Yes.” Yasha, somehow lying worse than Veth, nods. “The tower we were only looking at, really quickly, because we said we’d scout ahead.”
Veth squeezes Jester’s hand and flashes her a conspiratorial grin before scooting over to join the ensuing argument. Jester grins back at her, barely holding back a giggle.
“Here we go.” Caduceus, apparently finished with his prayers, shifts closer to Jester and away from the bickering. “That ought to keep them occupied until we go to sleep.”
Still grinning, Jester shuts her old sketchbook and stows it away again.
“I sometimes feel a little bad for our friend,” Caduceus adds, nodding at Essek, who is watching the debate unfurl with an arched eyebrow. “I remember what the first few weeks were like for me, and we weren’t even half as bad those days.”
Jester pulls a face. “We were pretty bad, just – different.”
“I suppose so. These days the incessant arguing is loving, but everything else has only gotten more ridiculous. And I very much include myself in that.” Caduceus smiles. “You know, I never imagined going out into the world and finding…well, my people. But if I had, I would never have guessed that my people would turn out to be more chaotic than my siblings.”
“Pretty much my only friend was Artie,” Jester grins. “So I thought I knew everything about chaos already.” She glances over at their friends again.
“Good to be wrong sometimes, isn’t it?”, Caduceus asks, following her gaze.
“I’m glad we both went out into the world.” Remembering Beau’s earlier joke – remembering diamond purchases and word of recall, discussions of spells and gods and many shared burdens – Jester winds an around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek.
“I would have been lost without you,” she whispers in his ear.
Caduceus only smiles, so gentle it aches to look at.
“Like, seriously, I would have gone completely crazy.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” He leans closer, lowering his own voice. “I would have gone crazy without you, too.”
Jester laughs, ducking her head into his shoulder for just a moment. One of his arms comes up around her back, and she breathes in the smell of herbs that always clings to her friend.
Then, with a deep breath, Jester disentangles herself. She smiles at Caduceus, before she looks over to the others and raises her voice.
“Hey, you guys, I think we should really get some sleep soon.”
“Oh, definitely.” With a light punch to Veth’s shoulder Beau abandons their argument. She studies Jester and Caduceus with a discerning look, relaxing only when Jester gives her a slight smile.
“Yes, we have the end of the world to prevent,” Fjord says with some chagrin. It, adorably, takes him a moment longer to tear himself away from his map.
Veth glances around the group. “Is there anything else we need to prepare?”
“At this point, I think it’s time to rest and regain our spells,” Caduceus replies.
Jester has to swallow back the sudden lump in her throat as everyone else mutters their agreements to Caduceus, their expressions steely.
They all gather up their blankets and packs, shifting around and bumping into each other in the limited space. Jester does the same, muscle-memory taking over as her mind spirals.
Dread coils in Jester’s stomach, dark and ugly, whenever she thinks of tomorrow, thinks of Lucien and Cognouza. She has known for a while how this was going to end, so why is she still so afraid?
Right next to her, Fjord curses as he nearly gets Yasha’s sword hilt to the stomach, while to Jester’s right Beau apologizes for elbowing Caduceus, then immediately swears at Caleb who just tread on her foot – and Jester cannot lose them.
The mere possibility of it tears at her, lies in wait behind her eyes every time she blinks. The memory of Fjord, Veth and Caduceus’ bodies, lifeless under her hands, is still vivid in her mind. Jester has never been able to forget the way she felt back then. Like the ground dropped away underneath her feet. Like she might die, too.
She shudders, from something other than cold.
All at once, Jester comes to a decision.
“Caleb?” Her friend is in the process of unrolling his bedroll, but he lifts his eyes to her face immediately.
“Could you put up images again tonight?”
Caleb softens. His face goes thoughtful for a moment, then he reaches into one of his pockets. “Give me a minute.”
The pit in her stomach lightens, just a little. “Okay.”
She watches as Caleb unfolds a bit of cloth, revealing the pulverised jade dust within.
“Not a lot of that left,” Veth comments, her chin propped up on his shoulder. “We’ll have to steal another statue from Beau’s asshole dad.”
Beau snorts, rolling her eyes. “We’ll put it on the to-do list.”
The green dust begins to glow golden, the tiny specks lifting in the air as Caleb mutters over them. With a flourish of his hand the glow brightens, expanding outward in a wave of light.
Jester has to blink, and when she opens her eyes – images surround her on all sides, floating around the inside of the dome.
They’ve seen this before, but it stuns her every time. There’s just so many of them, so many memories moving and shifting and changing.
Jester spots their snowball fight back at outpost a few weeks ago, sees herself and Fjord climb a giant tree while Beau runs up the side, sees Caduceus being hugged by his family.
“Still cool,” Beau mutters beneath her breath, knocking her shoulder into Caleb’s.
“It really is,” Yasha agrees, smiling at the dome’s ceiling. Jester follows her gaze and finds a spectral Beau offering a flower to Yasha before their first date.
“Hey, look.” Fjord wraps an arm around Jester’s waist. When she turns to him, he nods over to their left with a smile. A tiny rendition of the Mistake floats there, Jester’s paintjob clearly visible on the side.
“Our first ship,” she cheers. “That name was pretty great, you have to admit.”
“Not quite as inspired as the Balleater, though,” Fjord says, the picture of amused long-suffering.
“I have all three of them somewhere.” Caleb tilts his head back, searching, then points out two other spots among the floating images. The Balleater, pursued by a dragon turtle and dragging Caduceus, Caleb and Jester behind on ropes, and the Nein Heroez, setting sail off the shore of Rumblecusp.
“We have quite the track record with ships, don’t we?” Fjord’s voice is rueful, but Jester can hear the smile in it.
She leans into him and cracks a wistful grin as another image floats by just past her face, two giant owls carrying five smaller figures. Jester was a giant spider only a few hours ago, but seeing this, part of her immediately longs for one of her favourite spells. Longs for flight.
There’s such a rush to flying, to shedding your own skin in favour of another form. She knows, without ever having needed to ask, that this is something her and Caleb have in common.
Jester has always been fond of illusions, but polymorph is even better; and she has often day-dreamed about the mischief she could’ve gotten up to with it in her childhood, had Artie taught her that particular trick sooner.
Deeper than that, though, changing her shape is better than illusion in the way actually getting away from danger is better than merely distracting it. The Mighty Nein have made an art of running from their enemies, and flying is faster than running.
Only now they’ve stopped running.
She lets the others’ voices fade into the background for a bit, her mind wandering further. There’s a lot of wonder up there, and a lot of danger. The images don’t actually ease her fear, but they – like her friends – make it easier to carry. They comfort her.
Jester was hardly ever afraid, growing up. She was bored – often – and lonely – all the time – but she didn’t scare easily, and there was never a real reason to be frightened.
She didn’t realize for a long time, but Jester met fear when she met the Mighty Nein. She met misery. She met death.
Jester lifts her eyes to the glowing images all around them.
She is in many of them – braiding Fjord’s hair on the beach, doing detective work with Veth, reading aloud from Tusk Love as she walks by the side of a frozen lake surrounded by possibly-hostile ghosts.
She thinks of Veth’s expression earlier, as she was going through the sketchbook.
It’s very strange and miraculous, seeing yourself through the eyes of someone who loves you.
She shifts her own eyes to her friends, their features illuminated by the warm amber glow.
Beau is wearing her softest smile, the one she normally keeps tucked close to her chest. Veth’s turquoise tattoo gleams in light as she moves her head this way and that, her keen eyes tracking all the images. Fjord is still pressed against Jester’s side, but she can feel a low chuckle rumble through his chest when his eyes catch onto an amusing memory. Caduceus has raised one hand, the spectral images of three moorbounders circling it. Yasha is leaning back on her hands, and Jester’s imagination paints the outline of wings around her. Essek’s eyes have gone wide with a soft sort of wonder. Caleb is watching everyone’s faces instead of the illusions, taking them in like he’s committing the moment to memory. When their eyes meet, Jester mouths Thank you.
Jester has tried and tried to put them all to paper. It still doesn’t feel like enough.
In a sudden rush of inspiration, she reaches for her sketchbook. Here’s a thing to draw, she thinks, glancing between the blank page and her family, surrounded by glowing pictures of their own memories. This moment she will keep for the rest of her life, even if that’s only for another handful of hours.
Worth it, Jester decides, just for herself. It was all worth it.
-
Caleb has the sneaking suspicion that three patrons at the adjacent table have caught Nott and him eying them.
It isn’t so suspicious a thing, he tells himself. If they didn’t want to get odd looks, they shouldn’t be scattering so many coins about in the middle of a crowded tavern.
Nott’s eyes hold a familiar glint as she surveys the neighbouring table and its occupants.
“We could follow them out”, she proposes in a whisper. “We could do the Moneypot. We could run Rat Food. We could do the Prince and the Pauper to get it from them. We could try Spider Eyes. Any of those could work – “
That is as far as she gets before a voice interrupts her, startling them both.
“Are you guys staying here?”
A young tiefling, blue-skinned and keen-eyed, is leaning toward Nott and him, perched precariously on the edge of her own chair. Glancing just past her, Caleb catches sight of her companions, a scowling human woman in blue robes and a half-orc man with an impressive poker face.
Caleb has no way to know it, but the entire world just tipped upside down.
-
“Look up there, that’s us on Traveler Con’s Eve!”
“Wow, we were wasted.”
“You really were,” Fjord laughs, watching the image of Beau, Veth, Caleb and Yasha dance, the drinks in their hands sloshing out over the rim of their cups. He grins at Beau. “Very sentimental, too.”
“Okay,” Beau drags out the word. “Let’s not get into all that.”
Veth smiles to herself, tilting her head back to catch sight of more of the floating memories.
She loses a few moments simply staring at a spectral Luc, who is dashing down the stairs of the Lavish Chateau and into Veth’s arms with a beaming smile on his face.
Gods, she hopes he’s okay. She hopes he can understand, one day, that all this was for him. For the world, yes, but for him most of all.
He will, Veth tells herself. Luc will understand, because he’ll have his mom there to explain it to him.
“What is that?”
Essek’s question drags her from her thoughts. When Veth glances over at him, she finds him leaning forward slightly, an appalled expression on his face.
Veth tracks his gaze to an image of the Mighty Nein, holding hands in a long chain and floating in front of a giant maw.
“Oh, that’s just us,” she says, affecting her most casual tone. “Floating into the mouth of an Astral Dreadnought.”
Essek blinks.
“What?”
“Didn’t we mention?” Fjord shrugs the shoulder Jester isn’t leaning on with great nonchalance. “We’ve made a brief trip to the Astral Sea before.”
“Wha – When?”, Essek demands, his eyes flickering between them. “How?”
“Well,” Jester begins, drawing out the syllables. “We had to go rescue Yussa from the Happy Fun Ball – Yussa is this mage that we’re friends with, you know, the one who’s also trapped in Cognouza right now – and we had just fought those really ugly monsters in a lab –“
“Which, sidenote,” Beau interjects. “These Aeorian monsters here kind of remind me of that lab.”
“Halas was almost a contemporary to Aeor,” Caleb offers up. “So that would track.”
“Right. We questioned him on that.” Beau pushes a loose strand of hair out of her face, her hand already twitching for her notebook again. “You think this kind of thing was going around back then?”
Caleb drums his fingers on the ground, looking thoughtful. “It is certainly possible. He did let slip that necromancy wasn’t as frowned upon in his day; the same could be true for other – to our eyes – nefarious experiments.”
“Anyway,” Veth cuts in loudly, before Team Library can turn this into a history lecture. “We killed the monsters and had a moment to think on where to go next. We were like 80% sure that Yussa was in this – what was it called, Fjord? The prison room?”
“I am not going to dig out the map and check for this.”
“The prison,” Veth forges ahead. “And – “
“We were more than 80% sure,” Jester protests.
“That’s right,” Beau says with a nod. “Cad asked the Wildmother, didn’t he?”
“So, 95% sure,” Veth amends.
“I actually did not –“ Caduceus speaks up, and is entirely drowned out by Jester.
“I asked Artie, and he told me Yussa was being kept in there!”
“So, we were like 70% sure we knew where Yussa was,” Veth goes on, speaking over the top of Jester’s sound of offense. “And we knew how to get there. Naturally, we went through an entirely different door instead, because we wanted to know what was in there.”
“And Beau made us all hold hands first so that Caleb wouldn’t run off and stumble onto one of the wizard traps,” Caduceus adds helpfully.
Fjord leans over to Essek. “Are actually you following all this?”
“To be honest, you lost me at ‘Happy Fun Ball’.”
None of the Nein manage to hold their laughter in at that. Jester is the first to recover, sitting up straighter to be able to gesture with her hands without elbowing Fjord.
“The Happy Fun Ball is this sphere that can transport you to another dimension. We got it from Twiggy, who said she stole it from – do any of you guys remember where she got it from?”
“Port Damali, maybe?” Fjord tilts his head. “I’m not sure.”
As Jester is talking, Caleb flicks a hand through the air, making a spectral image of Twiggy float over toward Essek in illustration. Veth has to stifle a giggle at Essek’s expression.
Jester beams at the image. “Twiggy was a stowaway on our ship – she was pretty awesome, she killed a dragon with us – just after we got the second Cloven Crystal – “
“Cloven Crystal?”, Essek interrupts, frowning. “What does that mean?”
Veth feels a grin creep over her face. “So, we were in the Labenda Swamp – “
“Oh no,” Fjord mutters.
“– because one of the Gentleman’s safehouses there had been taken over by fish people – Caleb, make a fish person – but before we even got there, we were ambushed by this swamp troll – “
“Oh, I had completely forgotten about that troll,” Beau cuts in. “Didn’t we almost die retrieving our, like, fifty gold pieces?”
“Twenty-five,” Caleb corrects. “Goes to show how things change, eh? Nowadays, Fjord buys Rings of Fire Protection for five thousand gold pieces.”
Beau barks a laugh. “And does not wear them.”
“It was one ring,” Fjord emphasises. “And I would prefer if we didn’t – “
“I did wear it on the Plane of Fire,” Jester exclaims. “I fell into lava with it!” She pauses, a sheepish expression on her face. “I wasn’t attuned to it, though.”
Fjord buries his face in his hands.
“Anyway,” Veth continues while Jester pats her boyfriend’s back consolingly. “The Gentleman had sent us to liberate his safehouse, and inside we found –“
Essek raises a hand. “I am aware that I am going to regret asking, but” – he sighs – “Who is the Gentleman?”
“A crime boss based in Zadash,” Veth informs him.
Which would have been a fine and reasonable answer if Jester hadn’t simultaneously said, “My dad.”
Essek looks from one to the other, his expression gone entirely flat.
“Both those things,” Yasha clarifies for him.
“The Happy Fun Ball is more commonly referred to as the Folding Halls of Halas,” Caleb explains, taking pity on Essek.
“Ah.” A realization crosses Essek’s features. “That is how you got access to his notes.”
“And the Cloven Crystal is one of the keys needed to release Uk’otoa,” Jester volunteers.
“Uk’otoa,” Veth, Beau and Caleb whisper simultaneously, which seems to mildly alarm Essek.
“Let’s not get into that tonight,” Fjord says firmly.
Caduceus nods. “We should probably stop clarifying things, I don’t think it’s working.”
A faint smile crosses Essek’s face. “I appreciate the effort.”
Veth’s attention is momentarily snagged by an image floating past her – Fjord and Jester waltzing beside Caleb and Beau. As she watches, Caleb pushes Beau at a laughing Jester and grabs Fjord’s hand for a partner switch.
It’s a lovely memory, but that isn’t what catches Veth off-guard. No, it’s the simple fact that she doesn’t recognize it. She wasn’t there for that.
Must have been that day in Rexxentrum. That’s the only significant bit of time she’s been away from them recently.
She watches for another beat, this tiny new piece of her friends she’s getting to see.
This is what it will be like, Veth realizes all at once. When she goes back to Yeza and Luc and makes a proper home with them. The rest of the Nein will come by to let her know all the crazy, spectacular things they’ve done since she last saw them, and she will do the same in turn.
Just on the heels of that thought, another image captures Veth’s attention, floating up above Yasha’s head. Two ragged figures tucked beneath the low-hanging branches of a large pine tree.
Veth remembers that day. It was a chilly spring day, the first time her and Caleb properly plotted one of their cons. Discussing their plan took a good half hour, naming it the better part of the afternoon.
Caleb laughed when Veth suggested Modern Literature; she’d never seen him do that before.
What a long way they’ve come since then. And Veth knows they can make it even further. There’s a good life out there, for all of them, for all of the Mighty Nein. Even a year ago that would have been impossible.
Veth wants to have that. She doesn’t want to miss that.
“– and then I polymorphed the roc into a bat and captured it in my cloak! Only it kept trying to get out.”
“It was a very angry bat,” Caduceus says sagely.
“Meanwhile, this useless bird and I” – Beau punches Caleb in the arm – “were up in the nest searching for treasure.”
While Veth was lost in thought the storytelling appears to have continued. Realizing she has the opportunity to do something very funny, Veth leans over to stage-whisper in Essek’s ear.
“Spoiler: This story ends with me blowing us all up with a fireball.”
“Veth!”
Veth laughs and tells herself that they will all be fine. She tells herself that they will come back safely, that she will hold Yeza and Luc and tell them all about her crazy adventure. The three of them will make a new home for themselves in Nicodranas, the Cerberus Assembly will be dealt with, and Caleb will live long enough to teach his godson magic and be happy. Jester and Veth will open a detective agency, and Jester will gush to her about the date that Fjord will finally take her on.
Veth tells herself that everyone is going to survive this, that everyone is going to live and forget what it felt like to be this afraid. They will have visits and dinners, they will all celebrate festivals and holidays together as a family, and Luc can grow up being spoiled by his many aunts and uncles.
Veth tells herself all of that. It feels like such a lie.
-
Yasha has just passed out two flyers to an intimidated-looking couple when Molly bumps her shoulder with his.
“What about these folk? Should we go say hello?”
She follows his gaze to a group of people spread out over two tables. Young, compared to most of the other patrons. Some of them a bit shabby even by the standards of the circus, though not by those of her old life. All of them are armed.
“You think so?”, she asks under her breath. “They look like trouble.”
“We’re trouble, love.” Molly winks at her. “’Trouble’ is just another word for ‘fun’.”
She raises one eyebrow at him, holding back a smile. “Go ahead, then. When they try to make a ruckus at the show, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”
“Deal,” he agrees with a grin. “Come on. If nothing else, this should be interesting.”
-
Caleb is about to lie down for the night when it occurs to him that, amidst their reminiscences, they have failed to discuss the obvious.
“Have we decided who is sitting watch tonight?”
Yasha shrugs. “Do we need to? We have the dome.”
“It might be smarter to get as much rest as we can,” Fjord backs her up.
“And Lucien is hardly going to backtrack to us now,” Beau adds.
“The Tomb Takers are not all we need to be concerned about, though,” Essek speaks up with a frown. “Some of those creatures had arcane abilities of their own, and Leomund’s Tiny Hut is limited in its capabilities.”
Caleb opens his mouth, but Beauregard is faster.
“What are you talking about, the dome is great.”
“Yeah, we always sleep in here, and nothing ever happens to us,” Jester says, with an indignation she usually reserves for times when her treatment of Sprinkle is questioned. “I mean, we also sit watch a lot, but nothing has ever dispelled it.”
“Except for Lucien,” Veth interjects.
“Yeah, yeah, except for him.”
“But as established: he’s not doubling back! So, we’re fine.”
“The dome has always kept us safe,” Fjord tells Essek, who for his part looks a touch baffled to have received so much push-back over his factually correct statement.
Caleb finds himself torn between the warmth that alights in his chest at his friends’ immovable certainty in the protection his spell offers, and the doubt gnawing at him. It’s his job to ensure they arrive safely at their destinations, to provide his friends a haven and a home; he made it his job.
Now he wonders if, come tomorrow, anything he can offer will be good enough.
He shakes himself from his anxious thoughts and turns to Essek. “As you can see, we are very attached to the dome.”
“Indeed, you’ve shown me that the spell is more useful than I ever gave it credit for.” There’s a twinkle in Essek’s eyes that suggests he found the impassioned defence of the spell rather amusing. “You might have to teach me someday. Nevertheless, my original point stands. Whatever creatures roam these tunnels might dispel the, ah,” he smiles slightly, “dome.”
Six heads swivel to Caleb for confirmation. He inclines his head. “They might, ja.”
“Watch it is, then,” Fjord decides. “Shall we do one person per shift to get as much sleep as possible?”
Beau nods. “Works for me.”
“Who’s sitting it?”, Veth asks, glancing around.
Caleb almost raises a hand to volunteer, but the prospect of spending a third of the night – this night, in particular – alone with his thoughts is a daunting one.
There’s a beat of quiet. Then Beauregard quirks an eyebrow at the group, a slight grin on her face.
“Boulder, parchment, shears?”
Caduceus chuckles. “Sure, why not?”
“Bring it,” Veth says menacingly, already raising a fist.
“The fate of the world, people,” Caleb comments dryly as he follows suit.
Beau grins. “Yep.”
Essek clears his throat. “My apologies,” he says when the Nein all look to him. “But I’m not sure what we’re doing.”
Jester’s eyes widen. “Have you never played this game before, Essek? Do you not have it in Xhorhas?”
“I am familiar with the rules,” he says slowly. “Only I’m unsure about their implementation here. Picking out three people out of eight in two-on-two matches seems like it would take some time.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Caduceus reaches over to pat Essek on the shoulder. “Just go along with it, you’ll see.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Essek raises a fist as well.
“Alright, here we go,” Beauregard grins. “One, two, three!”
Caleb, having picked parchment, looks around the circle for some sort of discernible pattern. Fjord chose shears, Veth, Caduceus and Essek also went for parchment –
“Beau, Jester and Yasha are the only ones who picked boulder,” Veth declares. “So they’re taking watch.”
“What?!”
“I don’t think that’s how the game works,” Yasha objects.
“The game doesn’t work,” Fjord points out dryly. “That’s its only constant.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Jester complains.
Caleb nudges her. “You expect us to start making sense now, at the eleventh hour?”
“You know,” Beauregard says begrudgingly. “That’s actually a good point.”
“Now that that’s settled,” Veth flops onto her back as she speaks. “Let’s finally go get some sleep.”
As his friends return to unfolding blankets and pressing their packs into shape for pillows, Caleb glances over to smile at Essek.
“We always make it work somehow,” he says quietly, knowing the double meaning will carry over well enough.
Essek’s violet eyes crinkle with something Caleb almost dares to call fondness. “If there is one thing I have learnt about all of you, it is certainly to expect the unexpected.”
His gaze flickers past Caleb’s shoulder briefly, alighting on something else. When Caleb turns to look, he finds an image of the night they had Essek over for dinner. The seven of them sitting in the hot tub, their guest perched on the side with his feet dangling in.
With a flick of his wrist, Caleb sends the memory closer to where Essek is sitting – and calls a second one into existence right next to it, of the feast Jester created in the Tower earlier today.
“You know, Caleb Widogast,” Essek says, watching them. “I have seen that spell cast many times in my life, but never quite like this.” He turns to Caleb, who is trying not to blush. “I hope to hear more of those stories in the future.”
“Ja.” Caleb lets his eyes pass over his friends, feeling his stomach twist. “I hope so too.”
He goes to lie down after that, pulling his coat close around himself since he gave his blanket away. As he does so, Caleb’s attention catches on the red eye on his hand, sending a shudder of cold fear through him. There is a good chance Lucien will utilize those eyes to make a puppet of Caleb. To turn him against the rest of the Nein.
They don’t know. Beauregard and he can theorize for hours on end, but the end result remains the same. They just don’t know.
Caleb curls his finger into a fist, then deliberately drops his hand to his side. Fjord will stop him, should it come to that. He promised.
Caleb will not kill his family again. Fjord will make sure of that, if he no longer can.
The thought lets Caleb breathe a little easier. He raises his eyes to the spectres of their shared past that continue to float about them. Directly above Caleb’s head, the Mighty Nein are ambling down a Rexxentrum street, tipsy and with stolen hats perched on their heads.
There’s a murmur of conversation to his left, Beauregard and Yasha’s lowered voices, a dry remark from Caduceus, and Jester’s giggle. Veth scoots closer to Caleb, resting her head right beside his.
Tomorrow will bring what it may. Tonight, Caleb is home.
-
Beau watches the stranger – Mollymauk, apparently – shuffle cards with a glare on her face that used to start bar fights back in Kamordah.
Molly either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind; he flips the over the cards for Jester like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
A Silver Dragon. An Anvil. A Serpent.
The goblin woman is peering closely at Molly’s hands, Beau notices. Probably looking for foul play – not that she’ll find any if this hustler is worth his salt.
Beau tunes out his yapping in favour of studying the rest of this strange crowd. Jester looks entranced by Mollymauk, leaning forward onto the table to study the cards. The weird dirty guy is watching the fortune teller as closely as his goblin companion, though his eyes are fixed on Molly’s face rather than his hands. His expression is shuttered, but if Beau had to put a name to it, she’d say he looked wary.
Fjord alone seems more interested in the broad-shouldered bouncer than the cards, which – well, Beau can relate to that, she’s hot.
Jester’s voice filters back in, climbed high with excitement. “Will you ask the cards if I’m going to find him?”
Molly blinks, on the back foot for barely a second before he catches himself. “Give me a little more. Who’s this ‘him’ you’re looking for?”
“I’m looking for my dad.”
A jolt goes through Beau at the words.
Stupid, she tells herself a second later. Her own dad probably hasn’t wasted a single thought on Beau since he got the son he’s always wanted, and here she is, twitching like a rabbit at the mention of someone else’ dad.
Molly flips another card.
“The Eye,” he announces dramatically. “You have already found the clue you’re looking for.”
Beau rolls her own eyes heavily. You already know the thing you’re asking me about – oldest trick in the book.
That – finally – concludes the fortune telling. If that is the extent of what the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival is capable of, Beau thinks, turning the flyer between her hands, she isn’t sure it will be worth the five copper.
Jester seems happy enough with the reading, though that might just be her resting state. She’s kept up this level of excitability the entire twenty-four hours that Beau has known her. Beau has yet to decide whether she finds it annoying or endearing.
There’s just something off about all these people, even Jester and Fjord. Beau can’t put her finger on it, but she’ll figure it out.
Right about then, Beau’s gaze catches on the last card Molly laid on the table.
A single eye, hovering over a restless sea.
-
Yasha rests her back against the stone wall and steels herself for the first watch. It’s not that she minds, exactly. Usually, Yasha enjoys the quiet hours. But with the threat of tomorrow looming over them –
She brushes her fingers over the handle of her blade to still the fluttering of her nerves. A crackling of energy shoots up her arm, not quite comfortable, but…reassuring. The fear does not abate, of course. There’s no balm for the thought of facing Lucien in battle, for the thought of what the familiar body he wears might do to the people she loves.
Yasha doesn’t require one, though. Her fear won’t hold her back. It will only remind her of what she stands to lose.
Like in answer to that thought, Beau shifts closer to Yasha. The smaller woman is only half upright, leant up on her elbows, and is watching Yasha from beneath her eyelashes, uncharacteristically hesitant.
Yasha lifts an arm in invitation and does her best to ignore the way her cheeks heat up.
Beau grins and drapes herself over Yasha’s lap, boneless and content like a cat in a patch of sunlight. When Jester catches Yasha’s gaze she pointedly glances down at Beau, then back up at Yasha, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Yasha blushes.
There’s the usual background noise of the Mighty Nein settling in for the night. Rustling of blankets and cloaks, quiet complaints, grumbling, a few people inadvertently – then purposefully – kicking each other as they get comfortable.
Yasha tugs half of her own blanket down to cover Beau as well and has to pull her few possessions closer to the wall so that Caduceus won’t knock his head on the edge of her bone-harp.
She lingers for a beat, trailing her fingers along the side of the harp absent-mindedly. Yasha is almost ridiculously glad that she carries it with her at all times – had it been in the Bag of Holding when Lucien stole it, she would have been devastated.
It’s the first thing in a long time that has been truly hers.
“Would you play something for us?” Yasha lifts her head and meets Caleb’s blue eyes, soft and hesitant in the low light. “Just before we go to sleep?”
“Of course,” she says, unthinkingly. Then, on the heels of her agreement, an unwelcome possibility occurs. “I don’t want any creatures to hear, though.”
“I mean,” Veth draws out the syllables. “It will probably be fine, right? We’re not talking that quietly either.”
Yasha isn’t good at reading faces, even these faces, though she’s improving, but Veth looks like she’s trying to convince herself as much as them.
“You could just play really quietly,” Jester suggests, her head bobbing up and down in a nod, her eyes wide.
“Just a small tune,” Caduceus adds with a smile.
Yasha glances around at her friends, all of whom are looking up at her from where they’ve settled on the ground. She waits for protest, for caution, but none comes.
Instead, they all seem…hopeful.
“Alright,” she smiles at them, quietly delighted by the burst of unexpected happiness that crosses every face. “I will play one song really quietly.”
She pulls her harp fully into her lap, careful of Beau’s head, and takes a minute to ponder as everyone else finishes rustling about.
The song she lands on she came up with herself. Yasha isn’t even sure it could be strictly called a song; it’s just something she strung together while they were staying in Nicodranas before the negotiations.
She was sitting at the beach that night, just her, her harp, the waves and the moon.
The tune she strums always reminds her of that: the stillness, the wild, the odd sense of belonging.
The music carries Yasha away, as it sometimes tends to, and she could not say afterwards if she did play quietly.
She doesn’t lift her eyes from her harp until the final notes have faded. By then the faces of her family have softened into sleep, exhaustion claiming the lot of them.
Yasha gently sets her harp aside.
The sounds of the others’ breathing return her mind to the vision she was given in the Blooming Grove. She could reach for Kima’s sword again, but she does not need to. Yasha can feel the Stormlord’s intent crackling through her even without it, pulsing in time with the beat of her heart.
Protect them. That is what she asked for, that is what she vowed.
She will protect them – and everything else will follow.
-
There’s a spring in Jester’s step as she ducks out of the Nestled Nook Inn and into the morning sunshine.
Trostenwald has woken up, it seems. More people are out on the street than last night after they finished their job. Compared to the bustle of Nicodranas, though, it’s…
Well, it’s a little boring. Jester is kind of exited to get back on the road soon.
Her new companions have already set off down the street, and Jester hurries after them. She’s not entirely sure where they’re headed, but suspects it will be another tavern. There doesn’t seem to be much else going on in Trostenwald.
As she’s walking, she catches Beau, from the corner of her eye, smooth out the crinkled circus flyer and pocket it.
Jester grins to herself. Apparently, Beau isn’t as harsh as she likes to pretend.
And, speaking of pretences, Jester also eyes the dirty guy with the weird accent, Caleb. He keeps his eyes down and his face is guarded, but he gently tugs Nott’s hood up over her head as they enter a busier square. The goblin girl absent-mindedly reaches up and squeezes his hand as he does.
Nott must feel Jester’s eyes on her, because her head snaps up to peer at her suspiciously. Jester offers her a sunny smile, and after a moment’s hesitation, Nott returns it.
Jester’s grin widens. She’s aware that Fjord thinks these people are strange, but she likes them. Besides, Fjord is strange himself, with his accent and his magic – pretty cool and very handsome, but really strange – so he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.
This will be awesome. They have the whole day ahead to get to know each other, and tonight they’re going to the circus.
As Jester skips ahead to fall into step with Fjord, she flashes Beau a smile as well.
Maybe this is what it’s like to make friends.
-
A gentle shake pulls Beau from her restless sleep.
She comes to slowly, groaning to herself as she buries her head in Yasha’s shoulder.
“Sorry, Beau,” Jester’s familiar whisper filters in. “Your turn for watch.”
“Mhm,” Beau grumbles. Were there any urgency in her friend’s tone she’d be up and alert in a heartbeat. As it stands, though, Yasha’s arm is snug around her waist, and Beau really doesn’t feel like moving.
“Beau.” A poke in her side. “I’m going to sleep now, so if monsters dispel the dome and eat us, it’s your fault.”
“Alright, alright.” With another groan, Beau carefully untangles her limbs from Yasha’s and sits up. “I’m awake. Have any monsters tried to eat us so far?”
“Not yet, but who knows.” In the dim light of the dome, Beau can just barely make out Jester’s shrug and the upturned corners of her lips. “Maybe they go hunting around dawn.”
“Maybe,” Beau concedes. She takes a beat to study Jester. Her fluffy white coat, the tangles in her blue hair, the freckles still dotting her cheeks despite the recent lack of sunlight in their lives. Cunning, exuberant, bold, empathetic Jester.
“What is it?”
Damnably perceptive Jester.
“I just” – can’t imagine living without you. Beau can’t say that. She’s following Fjord’s lead. She’s being an optimist.
They look to you.
“You have some hot chocolate on your chin,” is what she opts for instead, reaching up to wipe it away.
Jester leans her head into the touch for a moment, her fingers wrapping around Beau’s wrist when she pulls away. Their eyes meet, and the solemnity in Jester’s gaze tells Beau that her friend heard everything she won’t say out loud.
“Thanks,” she whispers lightly, squeezing Beau’s wrist once before letting go.
Beau swallows, then smiles at her friend. “Get some sleep, Jessie.”
With a nod and a small smile of her own, Jester curls up between Fjord and Caduceus. A flash of red fur is visible at her collar as Sprinkle buries deeper into her coat.
For her part, Beau pulls her feet under her and settles in for the remainder of the night.
They usually take watches in pairs, mostly because sitting one alone is boring as fuck. Beau has passed hundreds of hours like this; speaking in hushed voices with one of her friends, keeping one eye on the darkness outside the dome.
Tonight, she is alone.
Earlier, Beau assumed keeping watch on this particular night would be excruciating. She pictured her own thoughts racing around her head in anxious circles for hours on end. Instead, she finds herself curiously calm.
In the stillness of the earliest hours of the morning, Beau takes in her sleeping friends. Caduceus is wrapped in one of their woollen blankets, his ears twitching slightly as they always seem to when he sleeps. Perhaps he never truly stops listening. Beside him, Jester has tucked her head under Fjord’s chin; his even breaths move a few strands of her hair. Their captain himself is lying half on his back, having sprawled out like a starfish in his sleep. Beau smirks to herself, tucking that analogy away to tease him with later.
On his other side rests Caleb, one hand tangled unconsciously into the back of Fjord’s coat, his loose red hair falling into his face. Veth’s back is pressed to his; one of her hands is folded tidily under her head, the other is on her crossbow. Floating by her feet is Essek, his legs crossed under him in the air as he trances – still wrapped in the blanket Caleb offered him earlier.
Yasha’s body is half-wrapped around Beau, like she is trying – even in sleep – to shield her from the darkness outside their safe haven. With all the gentleness she is capable of, Beau runs her fingertips over Yasha’s brow, feather-light. Even here, sitting on cold, hard ground, watching Yasha flips something over in Beau’s stomach. Like vertigo.
Like flying.
The faint smirk tugging at Beau’s mouth softens into a smile as her girlfriend mumbles something in her sleep. There’s a rustling of fabric as Caduceus rolls over, nearly knocking his forehead into the back of Jester’s head. He’ll wake up with her hair in his mouth; Beau is willing to bet on it.
The images still float through the dome, too, spilling soft amber light down onto its occupants.
Caleb, awkwardly and impulsively, throws his arms around a stunned Beau. The Chaos Crew show off their brand-new tattoos on the deck of the Balleater. The Mighty Nein camp out under a starry sky on the edge of a volcano, sharing a drink with an Archfey.
You can pour a lifetime’s worth of joy into less than a year, it turns out.
If she had abandoned them, that day she offered the hag a deal to break Veth’s curse, she wouldn’t be here right now. If she had run away, this wouldn’t be the last night she will probably ever live to see.
Beau is so terribly glad to have stayed.
In a few hours, they will have to get up and face another day. They will have to – somehow – find the strength to save the world.
For now, Beau watches over her family as they rest.
-
The first rays of sunlight fall through the window, waking Caduceus.
He rises slowly, going about a long-standing routine.
Brew some tea. Take it outside. Walk the grounds to see how far the corruption has progressed.
Two birds draw circles in the sky above Caduceus. The flowers on the newest grave have finally blossomed into a deep blue. He sits down by the spring for a while, listening to the trickling of the water.
The Blooming Grove is quiet, as it always is, now.
It is a day like any other.