The Voyager Keep, the home base of the Argonauts, a place that houses those praised as the true heroes of Mastorn, even more so than the honorable knights themselves. In this place inhabiting individuals of both absurd power and personalities--the man responsible for running this untameable lot has called in two individuals.

"Sir Bulsteighn, I believe my tea is running cold."

Clearly uncomfortable in the stiff chair formed of wood, the ever-smiling Rouge shifted about in his seat as he kept his hands on his lap.

The office of the large commander matched his somber choice in apparel--dark, lifeless wood without a hint of decoration, besides his many honors from his time in service, made up the room. Draped over his shoulders was a fluffy, thick cape of obsidian wool that resembled the coat of a crow.

"--"

The man sitting behind the desk flooded with paperwork, holding an unmoving stone-faced expression that stood out even behind his thick, bristly scarlet beard and locks that draped over his forehead.

"You know I usually wouldn't complain, but it was rather expensive tea. Actually, price isn't the issue here, it took months for it to be imported, you know, so--"

"Silence, Rouge!"

Even thunder couldn't hope to shake the soul of another man as much as Bulsteighn's booming voice.

"You're lucky I don't have you demoted for your past failure. It is an utter disgrace, staining the reputation of the Argonauts."

Falling silent for a moment after the man of superior rank finished his gruff comment, Rouge raised a finger to the air, "So, I'm not being demoted then? What a relief, I thought that's what this meeting was all about!"

Before Bulsteighn could part his lips to unleash a high-decibel scolding to the frivolous, bob-cut baring man, the colossal door both of height and density had flung open, the iron door handle bouncing against the wooden base, commanding both of the men's attention.

Upon his crimson irises meeting with the unknown guest, Rouge's smile drooped down, stopping himself from cracking the joke he had planned.

"Ah, there you are, Avdima."

Greeting the man standing in the doorway, Bulsteighn's tone took a higher, more relaxed pitch as his expression followed by softening.

The man possessed skin of such a pale complexion it was a mystery to the world that he had frequently seen the sun, looking as if he belonged in an abandoned house on a dark hill. As he took a stride into the office, his prickly buns on the back of his head bounced.

Not a single word was said from him as he sat in the chair beside Rouge, keeping his gaze forward. With eyes as worn out looking as his, holding abyssal bags under, it was a question if he even indulged in the act of slumber.

"...Excuse my rudeness, but what the hell is this man doing here?"

Rouge looked at the somber man as if seeing a piece of litter. Even as he spoke of the man directly next to him, he didn't earn a spec of his attention--further fueling his distaste as he scoffed, adjusting one leg over the other as he sat.

"Silence, Rouge. One can only put up with enough of your antics for a day," Bulsteighn scratched his beard, "Now that you're both here, let's get this over with, shall we?"

The bulwark of the Argonauts shuffled through documents for a moment as the room fell to mostly silence, besides the sound of papers being ruffled through. Taking a peek at the man next to him, Rouge sneakily moved his gaze, watching Avdima as he sat in complete silence.

"Say, Avdima, I heard you recently returned from a Phantasmal-rank mission."

The sleepless argonaut wore loose-fitting, black trousers with a baggy, all-white tunic sitting under a dark vest. As was the case with argonauts of higher positions, there wasn't exactly a universal uniform required to be worn.

"Yeah."

"How was it? Did you almost die? Bruised up at least?"

"It was boring."

Attempting to make small talk with the bristly-haired argonaut beside him, Rouge was almost met with responses as dry as a cat's tongue.

--This is what I hate about him. He's so damn unreadable! A single skewer--that's all it'd take to see if he has any vibrancy in his blood, the damn, dead-eyed fool.

A hoarse cough erupting from Bulsteighn's throat brought forth the attention of the two men sitting in front of his desk. Setting his iron gaze on Rouge, the burly man clasped his bear-like hands together before addressing the frivolous argonaut.

"A year ago, you launched an assault on the Althaus manor after Gaol discovered the existence of an otherworlder being harbored there."

"Correct."

Rouge confirmed the report, holding his eccentricities within him when faced with the large-set commander.

"While you carried out punishment on all those within the estate, you let the one target you were there for escape, with the Outlanders, no less."

"--There was no way I could've predicted Sora himself showing up when he did, I mean, it is maddening for an Outlander to attempt such a maneuver!"

"Silence!" Bulsteighn brought his club of a fist down upon the russet desk with a bellowing command, "You will speak when I ask you to speak. This is your problem, Rouge. You have no respect for the order of things that must be done. The moment you heard of Gaol's discovery, you rushed to the estate of Althaus without bringing with you a single executioner or another from your squad--such impatience and negligence led to the escape of the otherworlder."

"He was useless. Weak. Broken. That boy won't be a problem, I'll find him and finish what I started, just give me another--"

Another slam of Bulsteighn's hand against the desk resounded against the eardrums of Rouge, quickly sealing his lips as he could feel the commander's frustration become tangible.

"In the hands of the Outlanders, that boy has surely been trained by now. Your incompetence has led to another Outlander being born into this world. You will not waste but a single moment of your day on this mission, Rouge. You're hereby dismissed from hunting down Ren Nakamura."

Being berated as such, without a single opportunity to defend himself, guided Rouge into a void of anger within his mind. It wasn't often he experienced such burning emotion, feeling his fingers twitch against the fine leather of his gloves.

--I want to pierce his flesh. I want to see what his shade of red looks like. It'll be fine, won't it? Who the hell cares about him anyway?

Lingering in a tinge of red, his mind wandered off about the plethora of ways he could go about skewering the hulking commander, feeling his blood stream through his veins with radiant warmth.

"Rouge!"

The ear-wrenching yell of Bulsteighn dragged the man back from his fantasies of crimson, returning his scarlet pupils from their dilated state as he cleared his throat. Shaking his head with a sigh, Bulsteighn grumbled before continuing with his hoarse words.

"In your place, Avdima will take on the mission of hunting down Nakamura."

"Excuse me?"

He had already deduced as much, but having it confirmed felt surreal, causing a demeaning, almost laughful tone to guide Rouge's words from his lips.

"Is there a problem with that, Rouge?"

"Is there a problem? Mind my rudeness, but Avdima can hardly find the will to raise himself a cup of water. That man has no haste in his step or any desire for that matter. By the time he finds Nakamura, he will likely have become a full-fledged Outlander."

As Rouge spilled his words that were coated by nothing but honesty, he wasn't halted by words or even a slam of the desk by Bulsteighn--but a menacing aura rising from the man sat next to him. For a moment, any frustration was replaced by primal fear, refusing to turn his head, only shifting his eyes to the side to check on Avdima.

The man who not only looked like a ghost but also behaved such as one did not move from his position, yet his abyssal irises were locked on Rouge, dilated with a form of emotion he had never felt emanate from the usually stoic argonaut. From his alabaster pores, a deathly aura rose, giving way for a cold air to fill the chambers of the commander.

Words were not spoken, but Rouge understood through those murderous eyes what Avdima was saying--"I will not be disrespected again."

"...Fine, have it your way. How do you plan on finding Nakamura anyways? Do you plan to use Gaol again?"

"You know just as well as I that Gaol was only able to find the otherworlder boy because he was in such close proximity. Gaol has little chance of finding anyone once they're under the veil of that rotten sage."

Bulsteighn answered the disgruntled argonaut, stroking his beard between his calloused fingers. It was almost soothing to watch his well-kempt beard of crimson locks be caressed through the grace of his hand, although Rouge always had found himself enamored with the shade that resembled blood.

"If that's the case then what purpose does assigning a mission like this have? Without Gaol, it'll simply be attempting to find a needle in a haystack."

"I have a lead."

For the first time, Avdima spoke up on his own, catching both Rouge and Bulsteighn's attention directly to him. It was complete news to the ears of Rouge, glancing back at Bulsteighn, it seemed this knowledge was something original to the tired-eyed man himself.

"Elaborate."

Rouge rested his chin atop his hands as he held a look of genuine curiosity across his face, earning a response from the quiet argonaut.

"After you had left the premises of the Althaus estate, the cleanup crew had found something--a set of clothes that was peculiar. Something that could only belong to someone, not of this era or world."

As Avdima explained his findings, a look of frustration began to tint the bob-cut man's face, his eyebrow twitching as he found himself regretting this oversight.

"While Gaol might be unable to pinpoint the location of someone within Beatrice's barriers, he was able to get a general sense of his last traceable location by using the clothing as a catalyst."

"...And where might this location be?"

Rouge pressed for the answer but Avdima had fallen silent, scratching the top of his head as he attempted to ignore the man's curiosity.

"Where is it?"

"Rouge, no. As you're no longer heading this mission, such information is none of your concern."

"What would you have me do then, Bulsteighn? I am an Argonaut, my purpose is to eradicate the otherworlders that come to Gaia."

Standing himself up, he protested the withholding of such precious information, wanting nothing more than to carry out what he had started.

"You will stay in the capital and continue your duties as an argonaut, away from the field. That is what sleuths do, lest you forget. Now, that is an order, Rouge."

He knew better than anyone that once Bulsteighn had made a decision, there was no convincing him otherwise, such stubbornness earned him the nickname--"Iron-Skull ''. Rouge begrudgingly accepted this, adjusted his long coat with a huff before storming out of the office.

"That man will be the death of me one day…"

Bulsteighn let out a sigh, massaging his temple as he momentarily shut his eyelids.

"How many men can I bring with me?"

It wasn't often for the commander to hear the silent, gloomy-looking argonaut to speak first, opening his eyes quickly to the question.

"Huh? As many executioners as you need—"

"Argonauts. I want Argonauts."

"Mmm…" Bulsteigh stroked his beard as he pondered, "…Three. You can choose whoever except Rouge, the Cataclysmic Trio, or the problematics."

"Understood."

Given his answer, Avdima stood from his seat and left without another word.