Giving the cubs a simple order to follow and using them to support himself, they began their journey back to home base. It took him a while to find a rhythm that didn't send excruciating waves of pain through his body, and even if it subsided somewhat, the pain lingered. He was trying his hardest to stay conscious, concentrating solely on sharing his weight between his working leg and the two cubs to his sides.

Although they were in the middle of the night, his visibility wasn't affected in the slightest. He saw everything clearly as if the sun was still out. He had noticed this perk a while back and guessed that this body had some kind of night vision. It was a nice advantage to have, or so it would seem.

The reason he didn't like to come out at night wasn't because of the darkness. No. Ever since he tried it out, something had bothered him.

He stopped and looked to his right. He swore he saw something moving between the bushes, but it turned out to be nothing. Like always. He continued.

For some reason, his paranoia escalated to crazy levels as soon as the sun set. He called it paranoia, although he was certain that something was watching him. He felt eyes on the back of his neck. He turned and there was nothing, again.

He didn't like it, not one bit. However, as long as he didn't catch any creature staring at him, it was just paranoia. Perhaps the lack of sleep was affecting him. Nevermind that, it was obviously affecting him, he just… felt that something was off.

Regardless, he needed to ignore it for now and hope that it wasn't anything. Maybe that was why he told himself that it was just paranoia.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally arrived at the clearing.

Alexander hadn't felt such elation in a long time. He sighed in relief. Finally recognizing what surrounded him brought an immeasurable amount of comfort to his agitated heart. He was finally home. He didn't want to leave ever again.

He hated feeling like this.

By this point, his left hand was working fine again. Whatever bone that had broken during the fight with the mother bear had reattached itself. He moved his fingers. No matter how many times it happened, he was always amazed at how fast he healed, and at the same time slightly worried. He didn't want to take it for granted, because it would be his end if it ever stopped working, yet it was one of the characteristics that gave him a fighting chance against the monsters that lived here.

He had to be a freak of nature in order to survive.

Standing in front of the entrance to the cave, he realized a small detail. The entrance was too narrow for the cubs to pass through. Fuck this shit. He didn't have time for this. With a grumble, he limped towards the opening.

"Move," he commanded and the cubs got out of the way. He punched from the inside, blowing a large rock out of the way and into the forest. It crashed beyond his field of vision. A freak of nature indeed, "Let's go," he said and the cubs followed.

After the climb which took him longer than intended, he finally relaxed against the wall, his vision growing cloudy. The severe exhaustion struck him like a ton of bricks and he suddenly felt like his whole body was submerged in a viscous liquid. He noticed the two bears staring at him and a thought suddenly crossed his mind. What if his control broke when he passed out? Would they attack him? Fuck. He hadn't thought about that.

"P-Protect…" he managed to sputter before he collapsed on the solid surface that he called a bed and blacked out.

A wave of colors assaulted his vision as his sense of direction went haywire. He was falling into a spiral. Turquoise, white and pink. A kaleidoscope-like structure. He saw things. Images. Despair and sacrifice. Violence. Cruelty. Freedom. And smoldering love.

He crashed into the ground and it shattered before the pieces joined again. The colors had changed. Orange, blue, purple and red. A static painting of a mother being devoured by its children.

"I love and hate this world," a distorted voice said, "When I was young I couldn't come to terms with these conflicting emotions. They pulled and pulled in opposite directions until they tore me apart. I thought they were two incompatible views that could never- would never reach an agreement. But you understand… Please, understand-"

Then, silence. Everything disappeared. He was floating on a blank canvas.

Armand Marcel of House Besson hummed the melody of a song he didn't recall the name of while Miss Heidi, his head maid, fastened a teal-colored cloak made of velvet over his dark blue vest. Her wrinkly hands trembled as she tried to pin the cloak, but after a few tries, she succeeded.

"There, finally. If you grow any taller, young lord, I won't be able to help you dress," Heidi said.

"Even if I do, I would simply have to sit down while you help me," Armand said with a smile and gave his outfit a quick appraisal.

"No, no, that wouldn't do. Your clothes would crease and wrinkle if you did," He looked at her small form and noticed she was looking down, the remainder of her white hair covering her face, and his eyes softened. Heidi had been working for his family many years before he was even born, he'd heard, initially being hired as a dishwasher. However, picturing the impeccable, elegant and rigid lady in all but title in front of him as a dishwasher was preposterous.

"I don't care for a couple of wrinkles if it means having you around, Heidi," Armand said, placing a hand on her chin and making her look up. That face, which once he thought was hideous, gave him a small smile that filled him with warmth, "Besides, no one can make me look this good! I have depended on your tastes for years, without your help I wouldn't be the casanova I am today!"

"Blaming it on me, huh…" Heidi said as he spun around in front of the mirror while making silly faces, "Well, young lord you're ready for the feast. I know it is not my place to comment, but I'm glad to see you this excited."

"Am I that obvious?" Armand mumbled with puckered lips.

After a couple of knocks on the wooden door, a newcomer stepped inside his room. Gregoire. His younger brother. It was easy to recognize him by the mop of messy, light-brown hair that he rarely brushed. Despite being two years younger, his expressions always seemed more severe than his own. Right now he had a stern look. "Brother," Gregoire said simply.

"Oh young lord, you look so handsome! That's the new tunic your mother brought you from Alarose? It's so beautiful. That tone of red suits you perfectly," Heidi said as soon as her eyes landed on the smaller figure of Gregoire. Said boy nodded in response, a hint of a blush tinging his cheeks and mouthed a quiet thank you.

Armand almost laughed at the display. His brother didn't know how to handle attention very well, though he was improving. "Hey Greg, what is it? Do you need something?"

Gregoire nodded, "Father wants to speak to both of us before the feast. Achilles asked me to get you. It's…" he took a quick glance at Heidi that Armand noticed, "I don't know what exactly, but it seemed urgent."

Armand took a last look at himself in the mirror, giving his auburn hair a bit more shape until it was perfect. He was pleased with the result. "Heidi, thanks for your help. I'll join you shortly," he said with a smile and approached his brother, "Alright, let's go."

Once they were walking through the wide and ostentatious halls of the Besson Estate towards their father's office, Armand continued their conversation.

"So, do you have any idea what could be happening?" Armand said. The Count of Allaire was currently visiting their Estate, along with his unfairly beautiful daughter, which was the reason for the feast that was programmed to begin in thirty minutes. In that case, the matter must be of utmost importance for their father to summon them.

"Barely," Gregoire answered, "I only caught glimpse of an exhausted messenger that they are currently attending to in the kitchen. Someone said he pushed his horse to the verge of death, so I would guess it's not a trivial matter. Then again, it was old man's Dreafon who said that, so take it with a grain of salt."

Old man's Dreafon was the man in charge of the stables and he cared too much about his horses, so if he said it was on the verge of death it was probably an exaggeration. Though, a messenger… it could be anything. He prayed that it didn't take long, or God forbid that the feast was to be canceled. This was his chance to win the heart of one Henriette Allaire, the most entrancing and pleasant maiden he had ever met, or at the very least get closer to her. If not, then all of his effort to look his best was for naught. That would be unacceptable.

"Whatever it might be, it seems like Father wants us to get involved," Gregoire added. He was about to say something else, but they had arrived at their destination.

Armand regarded the two guards at the entrance of his father's office with a curt nod and they opened the doors for them to enter. He did so with his head held up high.

As soon as he came in, he took notice of every individual in the room and did his best to read the atmosphere. For their part, they all stopped talking and turned to look at the newcomers. His father sat behind a grand dark-brown desk trimmed with blue ornaments and a small smile tugged at his lips as he watched his children enter. His sky blue eyes, the same tone as Armand's and Gregoire's, held a discrete amount of excitement that only Armand was able to identify. The relaxed posture of his father was in stark contrast to the tense, rigid figure of the man standing in front of his desk; Achilles de La Croix, a veteran knight sworn to serve House Besson.

As the door closed behind them, Armand lowered his head in the direction of his father and raised it again after a couple of seconds. It was an informal greeting, but judging by the state of things, pleasantries were unnecessary at the moment.

To the left of his father sat one of his most trusted advisors, a wizened old man by the name of Theo, whom everyone called 'The Breathing Book' due to his extensive knowledge on useless facts. They were a bunch of other minor knights and a couple of butlers, but Armand had already grasped the gist of the situation. Even more so by the presence of a kid who was sweating buckets, with wide dark eyes full of uncertainty. That was probably the messenger.

"Armand, Gregoire, you arrived just in time," his father said, "I do apologize for the unexpected and sudden summoning, but I want your take on this. Go ahead," he motioned towards Achilles, who looked between the two brothers and their father with slight bewilderment before he sighed.

"I'll make this brief. Armand, Gregoire," he gave a quick bow to the boys and then continued, "Seven days ago we received a letter from Foireville, a medium-sized town in the region of Bastia. In it, they claimed that their home was suddenly overrun by a wave of monsters. They said it all started a few days prior, when they reported a spike in the presence of game, mainly Cerves and Vrelies, which are common to the region. However, and I quote, 'the creatures were behaving in an odd manner, unlike anything we have ever seen.' Cerves, which are often docile, attacked at first sight. The villagers decided to blame the climate and perhaps a decrease in the quality of their food to explain their change of temperament. Yet, after the population kept increasing, they decided to leave and take shelter on a neighboring town," Achilles paused to let the information settle in before he continued, "I didn't think much of it, but it appears that it is not an isolated event," he pointed to a stack of documents on top of his father's desk, "Thirty-two instances of similar situations, some worse than others, but they all have one thing in common; a spike in the monsters' population and a shift in their behavior. We can no longer ignore this."