The day after Chickadee had disappeared, a trio of letters had been sent to the elementalist encampment. One for Pegasus to explain that Chickadee wouldn’t be around for a few weeks. It was his fault that the fort had collapsed. His binding charms weren’t strong enough. He was going to work on his redesigns in absolute seclusion.

Another letter was sent to Emery. He apologized that he would not be able to be in touch for some time. This was followed by a page of erotic material that Chickadee had promised they could try when he got back, followed by some romantic poetry. Emery would be a mess during the days that followed, but not exactly because his boyfriend had gone missing.

The last of his letters was for his squad. It specified that he would be fine and that he simply wanted time to train. He signed the letter with his name and a set of tails twisting about each other.

Twin tails, which were the symbol both for Braytons and Tyrtain. They knew that Tyrtain and taken Chickadee. He would be serving as Tyrtain’s champion while Zaniyah acted as Iath’s. The whole situation left Sybil’s stomach twisted up into knots.

She sat at her work table while furiously polished dark wax into Foggy’s skull. Veximarl had examined the golem and noticed that her soul gem had cracked. Foggy was effectively gone, but Sybil felt like there was still a chance that she could do something or… Anything, really. What she needed right now was anything that made her feel like she was accomplishing something.

Alton pried the skull out of her hands and set it down on the table. “Study time.”

“I just need a few more minutes to work on this, Alton. I know I’m going to reach a breakthrough any minute.”

He knelt by the table and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll get plenty of time to work on Foggy once you’ve been grounded for skipping lessons.”

Sybil let out a groan as she put her hand on her forehead. “... Is it already time to meet with Professor Rosethorn?”

Alton gestured to the stack of essays on the table. “At least you got your work done on time.” He frowned as Sybil went to the weapons rack first. She checked her daggers and decided to go with all four of them. Oh, and the sword as well. Just in case. “Really? You’re not even leaving the barracks.”

“And Duxton has been passing off his missions to other second years. He’s going to find some excuse to be in that room and I refuse to be around him without a weapon.”

“... Fair enough.” Alton handed her her homework. “Warn me by letter first so I can watch you stab him.”

Sybil didn’t bother wearing her Grimstone uniform anymore unless she was supposed to meet up with Till or Stonetoe. She wore her old core uniform, the same one she had worn during the entrance exams. It had some holes that needed patching, but it was comfortable.

At some point, she would have to see if it was worth it to buy some men’s clothing in her size. She wasn’t fond of the wool that was commonly used in the Gilded Region. Importing silk from Carapace and finding someone to work with it also seemed like a pain. Sybil also didn’t want to wear anything loud, which was basically every outfit that outlanders wore.

She was supposed to be meeting them in one of the library’s study rooms. Sybil walked in and was surprised to see that it was only Duxton and Rosethorn present. Shaw was usually here as well. Rosethorn smiled briefly and gestured to a small table by the door. She went to put her papers on it but he shook his head.

“The weapons, actually.”

“... But I need them,” muttered Sybil.

Rosethorn flashed a brief smile. “I know that you have had some… Troubles with Prince Duxton during your mission together in Fogbloom. However, I seek to…” He hesitated.

“He doesn’t want you to stab me,” replied Duxton.

Rosethorn cleared his throat. “And in exchange for keeping your weapons away from our lessons, Duxton has agreed to remain cordial and quiet.”

Sybil took her time to remove her many daggers and her sword before flopping down in a chair. Rosethorn settled in a chair on the opposite side of the table and began to flip through a notebook. Behind Sybil, Duxton picked up her sword and pulled it out of its sheath. He examined it for a moment before he gave it a few practice swings.

“Put that back,” hissed Sybil as she glared at him over her shoulder.

“Wear less black,” he spat back. Rosethorn tapped a knuckle against the table and Duxton rolled his eyes. He put the weapon away and went to lean against the wall.

Rosethorn then folded his hands on his lap. “The world outside of Lustro,” he began.

That immediately peaked Sybil’s attention. Rosethorn had graduated from Grand Temple and had spent several years abroad as a member of a scouting vessel. Their goal was to do cultural exchanges with any country they came across. They traded books involving history, religion, and fiction. Even though he had spent years abroad, he had yet to mention any of that time to Sybil.

He flashed a warm smile. “We are going to spend today examining the theology of the outside world.”

Sybil immediately tilted back her head and groaned loudly. Every lesson of Rosethorn’s was somehow about religion.

“Sybil, I am going to have to inform Lady Till that you have been slacking. At least pretend to be interested,” scolded Rosethorn. She immediately scrunched up her nose. “We are going to talk about the creation of this world.”

“I already know about that,” muttered Sybil. “Eishur was a wandering god who was the last of her kind. We live on her dying body. The miasma and mists are simply the rot coming off her corpse.” At least, that's what Veximarl had told her.

“Ah!” Now Rosethorn’s interest had been piqued. “That’s the lore that swamp necromancers teach! How interesting! They believe that death is all around us, and through death we become protectors of life and creation,” he preached. “You must have learned of it during your time in the swamplands.”

Sybil slowly nodded her head. “... Yes.”

Rosethorn slapped the table, clearly enthusiastic and full of energy. “Incorrect! All if it is incorrect!” He cheerfully exclaimed. “Humans mucked everything up when the new four gods founded their church and the different sects had no choice but to put together what they knew by word of mouth and what they dug up from the siren temples. We’ve been over this, Sybil. Humans are dumb. Individually, we’re alright, but as a species, we are very, very dumb.

We have no way of knowing for certain if what the Others say is true, but I have been to many lands. Time after time again, the religious texts bear remarkable similarities. Harpies, wyverns, centaurs, unicorns, even the land of chimera and their manticore king share the same names for the first four gods.

Solik, Eishur, the Unknown, and Crea. The sun, two worlds, and the goddess of life who populated them both. That is the earliest record of written text. From there, we can track their myths and pull out the strings of truth that make up our history.”

“In other words,” corrected Duxton. “Rosethorn is insane and you should blow off lessons. Let’s go to Tilrey. They’ve started to crack upon their barrels of salgam. It’s great for hangovers.”

“I don’t have a hangover,” replied Sybil.

Duxton grinned. “We should drink until we have one.”

Sybil rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to learn here.”

“Precisely,” added Rosethorn. “And I am here to teach.”

Duxton scoffed and grabbed himself the chair next to Sybil. Rosethorn was in a lecturing mood today. They were going to be here for hours.

“Now,” continued Rosethorn. “This world, Eishur, was one of two. Crea was the goddess of the Unknown world. At first, she was alone. Time passed and she discovered that she had the power to create life. She used the forces and laws of this universe as their souls. These entities would become the first gods.

Solik was first. The sun provided the energy needed for her creations to grow. First came the flowers, followed by grass and trees. She and Solik strived to cover the barren lands with colorful life. Once her world was beautiful, she created the Unknown to become its guardian.

Crea then turned her eyes to the skies and spotted Eishur. A world that was covered in fog. She gave Eishur a body of her own and offered her the same deal as the Unknown. Eishur refused and asked that her world be left in peace.

Though Crea agreed to leave Eishur alone, the Unknown refused to let her be. Much to Solik’s dismay, Eishur allowed for the unknown’s advances. Solik believed that all of the universe was his. Eishur was his. The Unknown should not have been allowed to seek out Eishur, and she should’ve known better than to set her eyes on a god that was not Solik.

Solik knew nothing of giving up or of being reasonable. He placed the Unknown into an inferno so hot that even its name was burned to ashes... But, that fire also unveiled a horrid truth. Destroy a god, destroy everything they represent. The Unknown’s world also burned. Their ashes still remain for all of us to see.” Rosethorn pointed upward. “They’re the moon, you see.

Crea, who struggled to comprehend what happened, was overwhelmed with grief. She did not wish for something to happen to either Eishur or Solik, otherwise all would be lost. Instead, she slowly unwove Solik’s existence while he screamed out in agony. He was restored back into the pieces that Crea made him from, thus assuring the sun would be safe.

This world, Eishur’s world, would have met the same fate if they did not act quickly. Eishur tore herself apart and placed herself into torpor. Crea would become imprisoned on her body, a holy land, where she could not create new gods or harm anyone else. Such an act could not be done alone. For as Crea was the god of one world, this world already had a god of its own.

That god was Bellia, who had remained hidden until Solik’s death. Crea had been driven to insanity by Eishur’s betrayal, the murder of the Unknown, and the cries of Solik as he was torn apart. In order to ease her madness, Bellia helped her to craft Tyrtain from parts of Eishur’s body, and Tock out of the essence of time. Together, the four became the gods of this world.

Bellia, who had a gift for crafting souls, worked with Crea to inhabit this world with whatever life they could imagine. Each god was given a race to serve them. Sirens, nymphs, elementals, and harpies. When Crea grieved at the wars that Others had with each other, Bellia helped her create humanity. They chose prophets who could use divine magic, and would act as this world’s peacekeepers.

Yet Crea’s grief continued to overwhelm her.

She wished to meddle more in the lives of her creatures, to craft beings with even more power. More gods to govern this world. More gods to cover up the pain and mistakes of her past. When Bellia refused to help her, Crea tore herself into four pieces and crafted new gods from her own body. This resulted in her death but in the creation of Tria, Iath, Eatha, and Mart. The only gods that are worshipped by humanity.”

“So no one outside of Lustro knows about our gods?” Sybil found that to be odd. She had met some. They were definitely real.

“Others know about the gods but they refuse to acknowledge them as such. You must understand that there are incredibly powerful creatures among the Others. To them, the siblings are nothing more than monsters who have imprisoned the old gods and enslaved humanity as their pets. As long as they do not leave Lustro, they are not a threat.

But worry not of such matters. What’s important is that we acknowledge the beliefs of other lands. Religion acts as a nation’s moral compass. By reading their texts, we learn how to be at peace with our neighbors. After all, this is all one world that we share together.”

Sybil looked up from her notetaking. “But aside from the Coral Kingdom, we rarely deal with Others.”

“Because we’re nothing more than brainwashed slaves to our gods,” replied Duxton. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Lustro cannot afford to lock itself away forever,” answered Rosethorn. “Unlike what you have been taught, humans do exist outside of these lands. There is something about the divine mists of Lustro that make us sick to miasma. Those born outside of it are immune to miasma sickness. Those humans, who have no magic, have relied on technology to protect themselves. They have weapons beyond what you are capable of imagining.

In order to explore the world, we are forced to use necromancers on our ships. They are the only ones who can create wards powerful enough to push back the miasma. There is no choice but to make peace with our own kind and with our neighboring countries. It is only a matter of time before they come to us and we are horrifically ill-prepared for when that happens.”

Rosethorn then elaborated on his adventures outside of Lustro. Human cities built around golem technology. The land of chimera and their manticore king, which was flooded with miasma during all times of the year. So much so that its citizens could not survive without it, much like how humans relied on mist.

It was well into the afternoon by the time Rosethorn was done with his class. It was a refreshing change from the lectures that Sybil had been used to. His sessions were conversations based around exploring different issues. How miasma shaped populations, theoretical timelines, and exploring philosophy and how it should affect the government.

Shaw appeared near the end of class. He was there to escort Sybil out, even though she assured him that she didn’t need a damn escort inside the barracks. Duxton had chosen to stay behind and talk with Rosethorn some more. Sybil stretched out her arms as she took in the sunlight. She was beyond late for Stonetoe’s lessons but she doubted that he would mind as long as she had been studying.

“I took the liberty of ordering you some attire before we left Carapace. It should arrive within a few days,” said Shaw. He looked over her old outfit and scowled with disgust.

Sybil rolled her eyes. “I absolutely do not need more dresses.”

Shaw stopped and raised a hand. “Squires and knights at Braytons are allowed to wear the traditional clothing of their region. You appeared to be more comfortable wearing the styles of Carapace over the fashions Sir Stonetoe has assigned you. Being able to feel comfortable is an important foundation to being productive, thus I have ensured that the outfits are both muted in color and come with pants.”

Sybil stared at him, still completely untrusting. “This isn’t because I’m Zani’s friend, is it? You’re not trying to buy me off so that she’ll like you more?”

He looked off to the side. “I was in the process of ordering Zaniyah some clothing and it wasn’t all that costly to add something for you to that order.” Shaw held out of hope that Zaniyah would wear more appropriate clothing if Sybil owned similar outfits.

“Well… Thanks, I guess.” Sybil noticed that Paladin Buttonweed was quickly approaching. “Afternoon, Sir.” Both her and Shaw bowed politely.

He glared at both of them. “You are truant for your assigned class. Why is it that?”

Sybil’s first instinct was to respond with snark. This was the man who had brushed Zaniyah off to the side when she asked for paladin training. She didn’t have any respect for him as a result. But, Sybil also didn’t want to get another earful from Till because she showed a nobleman disrespect.

“Apologies. My morning lessons ran long,” she replied.

“I did not see you in Lady Till’s office.” Buttonweed narrowed his eyes.

“Why do you need to know where I am?” Spat back Sybil.

“Because the safety of these barracks and the squires within is my responsibility,” he spat back.

Sybil shook her head. “It’s actually Dalkirk’s responsibility.”

That seemed to set something off. A look of rage flashed over Buttonweed’s features as he looked Sybil over. His eyes then fell upon her weapons. “Quit making up excuses to cover up for your wretched lies! Where have you been?”

Shaw stepped forward and angled himself between the paladin and Sybil. “Professor Rosethorn has taken over Miss Twist’s tutoring in order to alleviate Lady Till’s workload. She has been attending his lectures with myself and Prince Duxton.”

Buttonweed held his ground. “Then I will have to have a discussion with Professor Rosethorn and the curriculum that he has sought to present.”

The paladin went to step around the pair but Shaw blocked his bath. She glared at Buttonweed for a moment before he let the man pass. Sybil heard him scoff quietly in disgust as the leather of his glove creased. He was visibly angry.

She glanced between Buttonweed’s back and Shaw. “What was that about?”

“He is throwing about his authority. Paladins at Grand Temple are strict and command a great deal of respect. He isn’t used to the disarray that this barracks breeds. Though unintentionally, you have given up a target to throw that anger at.”

“Eh?” Sybil tilted her head as a hint of guilt stung her chest. “Is something wrong with Professor Rosethorn?” Both Rosethorn and Buttonweed were members of Grand Temple. Though Buttonweed was ten years older, they might have been associates or even had a relationship as student and teacher at one point.

Shaw shook his head. “There are those who believe that Rosethorn represents a new age of radicalism. Making peace with Others will only succeed in encouraging immigration and interbreeding. New citizens will bring with them new ideals that will undermine our laws and religion.

Lustro has maintained the traditions of old and have fallen behind on science and technology as a result. There is fear that Others will invade and conquer if we show weakness. Rosethorn preaches peace, while the current court would rather rage the inevitable war.

Grand Temple, above any other power, is the most deadset on tradition. They do not approve of Rosethorn spreading his teachings.” Shaw shook his head with disappointment. Even as a paladin, he couldn’t approve of how inflexible the beliefs of Lustro were.

And yet Rosethorn was the man Duxton hand-selected to be his knight at Braytons. Sybil frowned. What if Buttonweed was sent here to monitor Rosethorn? That would be the only explanation that Sybil could think of. Why else would such a prestigious paladin be sent to Braytons rather than help command the war?

She felt ill at the thought. There were spies within Braytons. People who wanted to keep tabs on the prince and possibly her as well. Till didn’t seem like the type to put up with underhanded tactics. If something was happening, it meant that she was powerless to stop it. Sybil hated the idea that there were power games going on and that she couldn’t do anything about it. Just thinking about it was frightening.