Zaniyah didn’t want to be here. She didn’t belong in the Arbutus family. This was a reality that she understood on a deep, emotional level. Her body tensed as her eyes scanned the sides of the fort. Though the rest of Fogbloom was somewhat modernized, the Arbutus home had remained as a heavily fortified fort. These stone walls were well over a thousand years old, and were built to survive another thousand more.

Dozens of banners had been hung along the sides. Shaw explained that they were the personal shields of family members, going back to the first paladin who served alongside Brayton. Only members who had made an extraordinary contribution to Lustro were allowed to have their banners hung up.

She glanced at Shaw. He was always the strong, quiet type, but his shoulders had visibly sunken. His gaze was following the banners. Zaniyah felt like she was supposed to say something to reassure both of them, but her tongue was strangely tied up in her mouth.

“And there is a forge?” Fairy asked eagerly.

“... Yes. You will need to clean it. No one has tended to it since the war ended,” replied Shaw.

The past century hadn’t been kind to the Arbutus family. First came the destruction of the Fogbloom family, then the Bellia murders, which had caused infighting among the family. Those without bloodline magic changed their names and left, leaving only the paladins behind. After nearly a century, what was once dozens of paladins had become just two. Nicolas and Shaw… And now Zaniyah.

There was a time when the four founding families ruled over Fogbloom. Now, only the Aconite family stood strong. However, maintaining the Arbutus family was a responsibility that Shaw was willing to burden by himself. When it came to this sudden appearance of this girl...

Shaw glanced over to Zaniyah, who was still staring at him. Her face had gone pale, and her brow had started to glisten with cold sweat. A sister. He had wanted a sister… What he got instead was a complete mess.

“I clean my family’s forge all the time,” said Fairy confidently. She had completely failed to read the mood in the carriage. “It’ll only take a day or two to get it running again.”

“We will prioritize enrolling you as an exchange student in Petalmist,” replied Shaw sternly. “You will be returning to Carapace as soon as Zaniyah and I are done with our family visit. If travel conditions are unfit, you will return as soon as winter has ended.”

Fairy’s expression now matched Zaniyah’s. “But I can’t go back! Why did you even drag me to the university if I’m just supposed to leave and go back to that stupid city!”

The only reason why they had gone to the university was because they needed to drop off Gwyn… Great. Now Shaw was in an even worse mood. “Perhaps there will come a time, after you have graduated from Starsons, where you will be allowed to return there.” Shaw was sounding more like a strict father instead of someone only a handful of years older than her.

Zaniyah folded her arms and glanced out the window. “Just give her a few days. She’ll get bored and then we’ll go home together.” She then tossed Fairy a pleading stare, praying that Fairy would throw a massive fit tomorrow that would cause them to leave immediately.

Fairy failed to see Zaniyah’s attempt at a secret signal. “You shouldn’t toss ill words at me, sir, simply because your maiden has tossed aside your affections.” She tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. It flew aside just as easily as Gwyn had hurled Shaw’s heart into the gutter.

“We have arrived,” snarled Shaw between his teeth.

Fairy waited for the carriage to roll to a stop. “I wish to examine the forge,” she announced as she opened the door.

Shaw felt drained. He didn’t wish to babysit for any longer. “We should locate father.” He exited the carriage and waited for Zaniyah to follow.

Why did her legs feel so weak right now? Zaniyah hesitated to stand up. In the back of her mind, she was imagining that she would fall over on the ground the moment she left the carriage.

“Do you need assistance?” Shaw called out.

“No,” grumbled Zaniyah. She kept a tight grip on the sides of the carriage as she stood up and hopped down on the ground. For such a big fort, there didn’t seem to be anyone around. “... I thought you said we had a big family.”

“Father and I are the only lords that reside here,” replied Shaw. “Many of our men died out in the war and our woman married into other families. We will arrange for a gathering at some point so you can meet them all.”

“No rush,” whispered Zaniyah. “But uh, before we find dad, can I go to my room? I’d like to unpack my stuff.” And take a private moment to have a panic attack.

The question caught Shaw off guard. Their wagon, the one they had traveled to Fogbloom in, had been sent ahead to the fort. In his desperation to keep Gwyn in his life, they had had lunch as a group in the city before dropping her off. Not only had his attempt failed, but he had completely forgotten to formally announce his arrival.

“I will have to find someone. They may have set up a room for you.” If he had bothered to give them a time of arrival, there would have been servants ready to greet them.

“Could I use Sena’s?” Zaniyah rubbed the back of her head. “I mean, I don’t want to make a big deal of setting up a nice room for myself. She would probably have everything a girl would need, and it’s not like she’s using it.” The words immediately left a bad taste in her mouth. She instantly regretted her words.

Shaw’s face had paled from her statement. “Y-yes, of course... Sena would’ve wanted that.”

He took a moment to pay the carriage driver and escorted Zaniyah indoors. This place was cold, even on the inside. Zaniyah drew her jacket closer to her body as she followed Shaw down the halls. After a few minutes, he stopped by a door that had been decorated with a solid black banner.

“My room is next door.” Shaw unhooked the banner from the nail it was hanging from. “I will find out where they put your luggage.”

Shaw shook the dust off the banner before he rolled it up. He tucked it underneath his arm as he walked away. His heavy footsteps were the only sound that Zaniyah could hear, which gave a weight to the loneliness within the fort. She muttered a quiet, “okay,” before entering the room.

The first thing that stuck out about Sena’s tastes was that she liked the color yellow. Lots of little yellow and white items decorated the room, along with dried out flowers, which had long since lost their scent. There was a small desk in the corner that had a diary sitting open on it. It was next to a bookshelf that was stuffed to the brim with novels.

At least someone came in and cleaned once in a while. Barely any dust in here. Rather than look around, Zaniyah flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes. She inhaled slightly. It sort of reminded her of the apartments in the Carapace core. A little musty, and the stones made the place feel stiff.

… So this was Sena, huh? The sister she would never meet. Zaniyah remained quiet and still, simply listening to the sounds of the fort while imagining what sort of life Sena had here. Was it really all that lonely, or was she simply imagining it that way?

Should she feel guilty about lying to her father all those years ago? Should she have told him that she really did have magic? Zaniyah was a kid who was scared of being separated from her family. Of course she would lie. She didn’t have a reason to feel guilty for the actions she took as a child.

But the reality was that Zaniyah always felt like she had to play catch up with the rest. Sybil and Chickadee rarely relied on her and Zynn and Zyris never needed help to reach their goals. Shaw and Sena… Even though they had each other, they must have felt so lonely.

And in that moment, Zaniyah found herself pondering… Would Sena be alive today if she hadn’t been such a selfish child? Could she have done something to prevent that horrid event from ever happening? Sena couldn’t fight, but Zaniyah at least had that going for her.

There was a knock at the door.

“Hello?” Zaniyah sat up.

Nicolas opened the door and instantly became visibly uncomfortable. “... Hello.” He remained in the doorway, as though a pane of glass were blocking his entry. Not even a hair attempted to cross the threshold.

Zaniyah gestured to the room around her. “Shaw said it was okay, but is it alright if I use this room?”

“Yes, of course. Sena would love to have you,” he said, mimicking the distant tone Shaw had used. “I, uh, actually wished to speak with you about a different subject.” His body twitched, as though he almost thought about entering the room but found himself completely unable to move.

“... Uhm, alright,” muttered Zaniyah.

“I’ve gotta ask you to do some chores while you’re here. Family matters and stuff like that,” grumbled Nicolas as he averted his eyes. “We’re going to introduce you to the family before church service next satyrday, and we’ll have a feast here after that. There’s quite a few of us Arbutus’ laying around, but it’s mainly cousins and distant cousins at this point… Because of the war.”

“Yeah, Shaw kept mentioning that a lot of you guys died in the war.”

“A lot,” parroted Nicolas. He held his hands apart. “A looooot.”

Zaniyah moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Right. Nicolas seemed cool with not pressuring her into anything at the moment. Maybe the rest of the family aren’t exactly expecting much from her. “Okay. I’ll be prepared for it.”

“The family,” Nicolas stressed the word family when he said it, “would appreciate it if you were to meet with some potential suitors while you are here.” Zaniyah’s face twisted up in a grimace. “One. Just meet one. Then we’ll say you’re too busy to meet with any others, but I promised my mother that you’d at least try to meet one.”

“I don’t want to meet any,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Your mother thinks you’ll like the one she picked out, so I hope that you will trust her opinion?”

“Mom?” Zaniyah scrunched her nose. “My mom? She’s here?”

Nicolas cheeks, mostly hidden by his freckles, flushed. “We are,” his hands tumbled in the air, “We are… Uh, how to phrase this... We are being mature about our decisions.”

“How is not telling my mom’s kids that you kidnapped her and dragged her here a mature decision?” Zynn definitely didn’t know. Otherwise, he’d have popped up to drag her out of here already.

Now Nicolas was the one scrunching his nose. “Zoe has decided to visit Fogbloom so that she could… Both me and your mother are getting older and at our age… Ah...” He was very slow and precise with the way he worded it. “I wish to discuss the idea of starting a relationship with your mother. Since I have my duties in Fogbloom, that would mean that she would have to move here, and she didn’t wish to tell you be-”

“Because Zynn would find out and throw a big hissy fit.” Zaniyah looked down at the ground. “... Are you two getting married?”

“... W-we haven’t discussed that yet,” replied Nicolas in an abruptly terrified tone. “We are still at the phase where we don’t know if, uhm, r-romance is an option for us.”

“... Right,” replied Zaniyah quietly. This was suddenly awkward. “Sorry, but I’ve got some stuff to do.”

Nicolas studied her face. “... I wouldn’t ask you to move here.”

“I wasn’t making plans to, but…” All this talk about her mother and meeting a suitor was making her upset. “I should figure out where they put my stuff and unpack.”

“I’ll ask to have it sent this way.” He put a hand on his hip. “Dinner in an hour. It will be the family and that Cully girl you brought with us. As long as she can manage to wash the soot she stirred up before then. Ah, and no weapons at the table. Your grandmother doesn’t like work being brought up during meals.”

The mention of food had Zaniyah’s stomach grumbling. Shaw had mentioned that Fogbloom meals were nothing like what they ate at Braytons, and definitely nothing like what was in Carapace. They normally had a dozen little dishes brought out one after another. Thinking about it was making her mouth water with anticipation.

But no, she had to hold it in. No getting excited or acting childish. She had to act like a mature woman if she was going to gain the respect of others. As long as she had everyone’s respect, they would let her do as she pleased.

“I would be honored to dine with you tonight, father,” she stood up and held her hand to the side, mimicking a curtsy without a skirt. “Thank you for the invitation.”

And dinner wasn’t surprisingly bad. The people of Fogbloom heavily relied on the sea for their meals, meaning they ate a lot of fish and squid. It also helped that Zoe had brought a jar of her pickled snails, so there was the faint taste of home. Grandma wasn’t all that bad either. She didn’t say a single word to Zaniyah, but that wasn’t really a bad thing. It didn’t seem like she hated her at all, she was merely indifferent.

Over the coming days, Nicolas took the time to show off what daily life was like in Fogbloom. He showed off his duties as a trainer for the royal guard, and taking them on tours about the city. Fairy had wanted to go with them, but they immediately enrolled her in Petalmist so that she wouldn’t fall behind on her studies. That was good, because it gave Zaniyah one less thing to worry about.

The Arbutus family wasn’t as much of a pain as Zaniyah worried they’d be. They were kind to Zoe, which gave Zaniyah some confidence. She was worried they’d only be nice to her mom because Zaniyah was like this prestigious unicorn. The first female paladin in several decades and she just happened to be born an Arbutus.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. This was a chance to expand her family, right? All they wanted was for Zaniyah to have the opportunities she didn’t have before. There was encouragement, and hugs, and all the little things that Zaniyah felt were missing from her life in Carapace.

If she wasn’t careful, she might start to believe that living here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

---

Three outfits, some food that could last for a few months, and… What else was there? Veximarl looked around the squad room. If there was one item from that he wanted to keep forever, what would it be?

Veximarl hastened to dig through his dresser. He eventually found a brown and blue scarf that had a grosbeak bird embroidered on it. The only memento he kept from the war of the years, where he had beaten Trenchall in one on one combat. His triumph wasn’t important, but this scarf was. This was the only memento that Gwyn had left him.

Basil had a matching one, but this was still a very important item to Veximarl.

He carefully folded it, wrapped it in burlap, and placed it within his inner pocket. There. Packed. Veximarl’s eyes slowly drifted to the empty bag. The Volo Refuge mission. He hadn’t packed anything for it yet. Alton and Chickadee had been there for over a week now, and Lady Blu had only just now given her blessing for Veximarl to join them.

It was actually only a sort of blessing. Volo Refuge was close enough where Veximarl could easily come back for more medicine. More time was needed to prepare before he could follow through on his plan to leave Braytons. Blu insisted that he shouldn’t make any extreme decisions. Wait until after he was done taking the medication. Tish’s magic needed to be out of his system before he did anything to extreme

But Veximarl didn’t have a choice but to be extreme. Desperate measures were needed. He knew what Tish had been doing to him for months and he had made the choice to let her continue. It was his fault that his squad was broken. With Sybil gone, there was no opportunity to fix it. The wise choice was to leave and hope that his absence would be the first step in the healing processes.

There wasn’t a need to pack heavy duty outfits into his mission back. Veximarl packed whatever he could find that was comfortable, as well as some notebooks and quills to take notes. Proper organization was going to be key. He picked up both his mission and emergency escape bags and headed to the infirmary.

Blu was surprisingly not around. Simon was in his rocking crib, with Luca sitting next to him. He had his foot on the edge of the crib and so he could rock it back and forth. Normally, he would nod at Veximarl when he entered the infirmary. This time, he frowned to himself as he kept his eyes on his book.

The reaction was understandable. No one had treated Veximarl normally over the past two weeks. Either he was completely ignored or treated like a fragile piece of glass. Even his own squad had been treating him harshly. Zaniyah had written a letter to both Alton and Chickadee. Veximarl didn’t know what the contents of the letters were, but he did know that he didn’t get one.

“Did your mission end early?” Veximarl didn’t want to put Luca on edge, but he also didn’t know what to say. Small talk seemed like the best ice breaker.

Luca checked to see if Simon was asleep. “It’s ongoing. We simply decided that someone needed to come back to keep Doctor Blu company.”

“Is she busy at the moment? I wished to inform her that I was heading out.” Veximarl looked around the infirmary. One of Blu’s quilting projects was resting on a chair, implying that she hadn’t planned to leave for long.”

Luca nodded his head. “Doctor Blu received a request to perform a surgery in Tilrey. She’ll be back by evening.”

Veximarl put a hand to his chin. “Would she need your assistance? I have time to watch Simon while you’re away.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to.” Luca stood up and set his book down on the seat of the chair. “Can I say something? It’s been a bit rough on all of us, but I feel like I still have room to talk.”

The request made Veximarl’s stomach churn. He didn’t want to keep focusing on everything negative that happened. “... I have time,” he repeated.

Luca took a step forward, but remained an arm’s distance away. “I only wanted to say that no one blames you for what happened to Tish. None of us in Macestar do, and if someone has a problem with it, we’re going to take your side. It’s just as much our fault because we failed to notice what was happening to you.”

There was that fragile wording again. Those sympathetic eyes. That fear that one wrong word or gesture would send the tower of glass crashing to the ground. Veximarl hated this. “The sentiment is appreciated,” he replied with a fake smile.

“I just hope that Tish is at peace now,” muttered Luca. “Yeah, Vex, uh, thanks for listening. Lady Till has given me permission to excuse myself from mission duties for the next few weeks, so feel free to message me by letter if you need to talk.”

Veximarl wanted to ask about Tish. He knew he shouldn’t, because no one would give him any information, but he just wanted to know something. Was she safe? Was she going to be okay? All he wanted was an ounce of confidence that she was doing alright. “... Thank you. Sorry, if I am not needed, I should excuse myself.”

“Not a problem.” Luca tilted his head and flashed a weak grin. “I’ll see you around.”

It was unlikely that Veximarl would ever see him again. “Of course. I’m hopeful that it will be under better circumstances.”

Luca became immediately uncomfortable.

“... Well then, g-goodbye,” stammered Veximarl.

He rushed downstairs and hastened to summon Ale. The monks of Volo Refuge had been attempting to organize the materials located within the lower ends of the temple. Due to the dangers of heavy mist, the Braytons’ squires had been handling the main bulk of work. Veximarl had been eager to join them.

A short ride later and Veximarl was finding himself hesitating. It would be so easy for him to turn the horse east and keep going. His hands tensed on his thighs. There was still a duty to fulfill. He still needed to check in and see if they were doing alright. Maybe fake some words of encouragement or attempt to apologize for his behavior again.

He dismounted, grabbed his bags, and made his way into the temple. Anais was the only person he recognized. She had been idling by the front desk, talking with the monk who had been assigned there.

“Oh, Vex! Thank goodness you’re here!”

Veximarl was actually startled by the warm welcome. “Uhm… Thank you?”

Not wanting to waste time, Anais grabbed onto Veximarl’s hand and began to drag him about. “I cannot stress how… Well, none of us expected for it to end up this way, but I guess they really had an excuse to ask for help? It did seem awfully strange that they wanted extra hands for sorting.”

Ivy’s panicked cries reached their ears before they even had a chance to pass the first row of weapons. Veximarl broke into a jog as he raced towards the stairs. He delved further and further into the depths of the temple, until the scent of mist became overwhelming. As he stepped onto the bottom floor, he heard a crash as Alton was slammed into the wall next to him. An inky-like tentacle was wrapped around his throat.

Veximarl’s gazed snapped to the source of the attack. The tentacles were bursting out of a sword that Ivy was attempting to tame. Her arms, up to her shoulders, were wrapped with black tendrils. She was jolting about as the tendrils fought for control over her body. Vincent was using his golem as cover, while Chickadee was lying unconscious by the wall.

Alton’s heels scraped against the ground as he attempted to free himself. His fingers tightened against the tentacles, sinking into the goo as he gagged and choked. Veximarl hesitated for a moment, slipped past him, and knelt next to Chickadee. He pressed his palm against the side of the mage’s neck and closed his eyes.

Bruising to his chest and sternum. Unconsciousness due to a strong hit to the torso, but his heart was fine. Alton’s situation was far more dire. He didn’t know if the tendrils would let go once Alton had lost consciousness. Approaching Ivy wasn’t an option either. Vincent wasn’t having any luck with his golem, and Veximarl doubted that his summons would help.

Trails of purple and red light trailed around Veximarl’s wrist and dripped down to his fingertips. He held his hand up and slowly gripped onto the tendril that was wrapped around Alton’s neck. “Calm yourself.”

The tentacle melted at his touch. Alton fell onto the floor. He clutched his throat as he proceeded to have a coughing fit. Veximarl focused on moving towards Ivy, muttering incantations to himself as he went. His footsteps left imprints of light behind them, which faded as his cloak brushed over them. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached Ivy, and he placed his hand on the side of the blade.

“It’s time to rest,” he gently whispered.

Ivy let out a sigh as the inky mass evaporated off of her. “... This is why I said we should’ve gotten him here sooner,” she growled through her teeth. She thrusted the handle of the weapon at Veximarl. “This is your problem now!”

Vincent dissipated his golem with a wave of his hand. “He needed to focus on his recovery.”

A utility knife was used to pry the blood iron coin out of the pommel of the weapon. Veximarl rolled it about in his hands. Chickadee had taught him a little about weapon forging, but he still had trouble reading enchantment engravings. Sybil described them as both poetry and complicated mathematical equations, which was enough to break his head a little.

“Does this happen often?”

Vincent glanced over to Chickadee. Alton was already shaking him awake. “Pre-blood law weaponry.” Meaning they had been forged before it was illegal to harvest and use your enemy’s blood iron. “They’ve been buried in the miasma since Tria’s fall.”

Blood iron was something equivalent to the soul gems he made, wasn’t it? That was something Veximarl had been starting to realize. The poor souls must have been driving to madness by centuries of miasma and isolation. “I would have hastened that recovery if I had been told of the dangers you all were in.”

“And what would you have done differently?” Grumbled Alton as he stood up. He dragged Chickadee with him and hoisted him on his back. “Dismantle the enchantments and turn the weapons over the monks for categorizing? What do you think we’ve been doing this whole time?”

Perhaps it was possible to give blood iron a proper burial using his magic, but that was a specialty of the swamp necromancers. All metal could do was rust and rot. “... That is all we can do for now, yes.” Veximarl agreed with Alton, but he still felt like he should be able to do more. “I would have to do more research on the subject.”

“Chi can tell you what he’s been doing,” muttered Alton. He then glanced over to Vincent. “I’m taking a break.”

Veximarl slipped the blood iron in his pocket and rested the sword against the wall. He then followed the others upstairs and to their makeshift breakroom, where Alton set Chickadee down on a bench. Anais had been waiting for them with glasses and a pitcher of water. She had learned early on to just stay out of the way whenever a weapon started to act that way.

The silence in the room was making Veximarl tense. He couldn’t tell if they were purposely ostracizing him or waiting for him to say something. They needed him here, as his magic had already proven useful, but he also felt that he should make his plans known.

“I should let you all know that I plan on leaving Braytons. Permanently.”

Veximarl’s voice was caught on his throat. It wasn’t him that had spoken up, but Anais. She had taken the words right out of his mouth.

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Is that a joke?” Anais shook her head. “... Are you being serious?!” She now sounded like she was on the verge of panicking. “You know that Vincent is graduating in a few weeks! Do you expect me to wait around for Remi to come back by myself?! I’m just supposed to do that alone?!”

“Well, you see, uhm…” Anais began to pour water into the cups. “Mister Alder and Miss Ackerat had received a generous offer from Duke Sickleson. He’s gained permission to send a unit into the Clay Region to investigate where the arrows of faith are coming from and uhm, they asked me to go with them.”

“Are you being serious?” Ivy repeated.

Vincent placed his hand on Anais’ shoulder. “I believe that you will make a valuable asset to their team.”

Anais beamed at the compliment before boiling down into a mess of muttered sweet nothings. She wouldn’t have been able to get this far without everyone’s help. Gwyn and Ivy had supported her so much, not to mention that Vincent always had given her good advice.

Alton waited patiently for her voice to trail off before he glanced at Veximarl. “... When are you leaving?”

Vincent’s features tensed with anger. “This is not the time for that sort of discussion.”

“I was put in charge of this mission, and I need to know what resources we do and do not have,” spat back Alton.

Veximarl fiddled with the blood iron in his pocket. “I will stay for as long as I am needed.”

“Then you can leave tonight,” replied Alton as he stood up. “Take Sybil’s sword with you.”

“I had planned to, but you will need to hand it over first,” said Veximarl as he straightened up in his seat.

Alton stared at him. “...” He squinted. “It’s in the bottom drawer of Sybil’s dresser.”

Veximarl disagreed with a shake of his head. “That drawer had nothing of interest in it. I had assumed you had brought it to the refuge for safe keeping.”

Both of them turned to stare at Chickadee, who was leaning against Alton. He was still a little dazed from his ordeal. “Maintainenced night Sybil left,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Last saw then.”

The sword had gone missing? Sybil hadn’t taken it with her and no one thought Zaniyah was dumb enough to bring it with her to Fogbloom. Veximarl furrowed his brow. Tish hadn’t even been allowed back in the dorms to pack her belongings, and Buttonweed was dead. Was there someone else that would have wanted to take it?

“... Duxton,” snarled Alton under his breath. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would want the troublesome thing.

The sword was tucked in a drawer. None of them had thought to check it in weeks. It was completely possible for Duxton to have sent someone to grab it or for him to have taken it for himself. Beat had his hands full with barracks security since Mila and Irving had gone to Mareth. There was a chance that someone related to Duxton or an entirely different entity had stolen it only recently.

Veximarl agreed that Duxton was likely the root behind this problem. The majority of their problems were caused by either Duxton or their own hubris. “I regret to inform you that I do not plan on going to Fogbloom to fetch it,” he grumbled.

“I wasn’t asking you to.” Alton felt the faint tingles of an encroaching migraine. “I don’t care if you stay or go, but it’s better for all of us if you leave as soon as you’re able to.” He gently eased Chickadee off of him before standing up. The others remained silent as he walked out of the room.

Anais did her best to sound reassuring. “I’m certain that he’ll forgive you eventually.”

“He often lets his emotions take control of his better judgment. I doubt that he will ever accept my apology,” replied Veximarl.

Anais looked to Vincent for guidance. He merely nodded his head in agreement. “Well, why don’t we plan to leave at the same time? I know that you probably weren’t planning on going south, but you’re more than welcome to come with us if you wish.”

To search for more arrows of true faith? He did owe it to Alex to find the supplier. “Unfortunately, I must decline. Sir Stonetoe is expecting me on the battlefield.”

There were other necromancers in the Clay Region. Ones with techniques that Veximarl hadn’t even heard of. Rosethorn was one of them, and last Veximarl had heard, Stonetoe had been assigned to the same unit as him. It would be wise for Veximarl to spend the next few years focusing on learning different necromancy techniques.

He fiddled with the blood iron coin in his pocket again. There were opportunities to be had here. Veximarl simply had to find the right partner for the job.