Like Emilie, Krey had been to this place before, though it had been a long time ago and not for long. Most of his time in Jiel had been spent in a region they were likely to cross next - the Veil of Ever Autumn - during a campaign that sought to bring the ogres into the fold of civilisation. However, much like with the goblins and the kobolds, only a small handful ever detached themselves from the Old Ways. The ogres also had a particular spite about them when it came to those who abandoned those old ways, as if they had some kind of grudge against the new. Perhaps they do, Krey wondered, and perhaps with good reason. But those thoughts could wait. And even when the time to cross the veil did come, the odds of them stumbling upon one of those lumbering recluses were slim. For now, the human knight had someone else to keep his eye on.

Bel wasn’t drawing as many eyes as Krey had expected. Furthermore, he was surprised that he was the one to receive more odd looks. So preoccupied with this was he that he failed to pick up on how much Bel was striding through the streets with intent, as if with a destination already in mind, as if he had been here before. Of course, the possibility was very much there; Krey didn’t know Bel’s life story. However, today, he was about to get a glimpse into it.

The moralim, who continued to draw smiles and even the odd bow, eventually moved from the main streets and slipped between buildings into the back roads, and as the knight followed, he continued to feel a prickly tension in response to the squinted eyes scrutinising him… which always seemed to look at his surcoat first before actually looking at him. The residences hidden behind the main parts of town were not quite as beautiful or as clean, but they were still clearly maintained with some degree of respect.

It was also no longer jielic humans who were stood on the stoops of the houses, but moralim, either dressed in the traditional flowing fashions of Jiel’s human natives, or clad in gear that looked noticeably more rigorous, as if dressed for urban skirmishes— leathers, the odd smattering of light metal armour pieces, and with weapons dangling from every hip and strapped to every back.

After the first woman across the street saw him and immediately urged her small children to rush back into the house, her eyes wide with terror at the sight of him, Krey almost didn’t continue shadowing Bel… but, after a moment of locking eyes silently with the moralim mother, he did press on, keeping to the corners and fences to make sure Bel didn’t catch a glance of him over his shoulder. Perhaps it was because he himself was being sneaky, but Krey did sense a presence now tailing him as well, employing the same clandestine approach, and with a markedly more hostile vibration.

Bel picked up the pace to a brisk jog, turning off the footpath and toward one of the houses. He hopped up the stoop and knocked on the dark wood door, stepping back when he heard the knob turning from inside. A moralim woman emerged into the twilight, one that, from the look on Bel’s face, Krey was sure he didn’t recognise.

“I’m sorry,” Bel said, “but does a man named Akoshi still live here? Or a woman named Girelba?”

The woman simply shook her head.

“I see,” Bel said with a shudder. “Sorry to have bothered you.” He stepped down back into the road, and the woman closed her door.

“Don’t look so distraught,” Krey said, finally making himself known. Bel didn’t react to his voice at all. “Maybe your friends just had a change of residence.”

Bel turned to face Krey with a pained smile. “That’s not likely. I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

“You knew I was following you?”

“Your armour isn’t the quietest thing, jangling around with every step.”

“I was soft in my steps, and kept a good distance back. I don’t think you heard me.”

“Truth be told, I would’ve been surprised if you hadn’t followed me.”

“And why’s that?”

“We both know why, knight— let’s not trot this out again.”

Krey allowed the silence to linger for a moment before trying to change the subject. “So, these friends of yours…”

“They’re dead. Killed defending their home and their community, no doubt.”

“They were knights?”

Bel scoffed at that. “Of a sort. There are no knights in Jiel, Krey. Despite calling yourselves the Knights Berodyl, your order is remarkably absent from a great many places all across the land. Ocar, Tambur, the Marshlands, Dustfare, most of Natra…”

“Your point?” Krey interjected harshly.

“While most humans still spurn moralim because of a history we can’t change, the humans here in Jiel have come to accept us. Not that there wasn’t pushback at first; the priests and blades of the shrines, the Crusaders On High, even the Sisterhood of Communion— they all needed a lot of convincing. It was only when the Tearcry Saints stepped in were any of them initially convinced, allowing us to prove our worth, most moralim still alive today having at least some combative or survivalist experience out of necessity. In exchange for sanctuary - neighbourhoods like these where the majority of moralim now live - we help them fight the monsters of the wilds and the terrors of the night, and the very same demons with whom our ancestors made their pacts.” He pointed at the house. “I used to live here with two friends of mine, after we escaped the scorching of our original village in the Mossy Dries, razed and butchered by a host of many symbols. Your own symbol was among them - the crest of the Knights Berodyl - as were the cream-and-gold standard of the Crusaders On High, the silver-blue garb of the Apostles of Vosch, the white feathers of the Garnet Inquisition— maybe many more. Akoshi and Girelba were content with our new lives here, said I was a fool to strike out on my own…”

“I believe your story, Bel,” Krey said, “but I’m not sure I fully trust your memory. I can’t believe that all of those disparate factions were present solely for the unified goal of wiping out your village, and given that you were a frightened child at the time, further burdened with the care of fellow frightened children, it’s likely you simply saw anyone around you not from the village as a threat, an enemy. That’s all beside the point, though; what I understand is why you struck out. Everything was taken from you, and that demanded a response.”

“I should’ve listened to them,” Bel whimpered, a glistening tear threatening to spill from his eye. “I could’ve been here, fought alongside them, and—”

“And died alongside them for all you know,” Krey interrupted. “You can’t blame yourself for their deaths, Bel.”

“Who can I blame, then? You? That damn crest on your chest? The crest that should’ve been there with them as well? The one that should’ve saved our village?”

Krey could hardly bare to look him in the eye now.

“I’m sorry,” Bel said, clearing his throat. “You would’ve been a child yourself at the time. It’s just… I look at that surcoat of yours, and I can smell the fires. The fires sanctioned by the cryptic holy ghosts, by the vaunted god Fyren, by whoever else might’ve been partisan to the slaughter, perhaps even the stoic arietes…” he sighed. “They’re likely buried in the field of memorial, not far up the road from here. If I can’t do them the courtesy of a visit here in the realm of the living, I should at least pay my respects now that they’ve crossed into death’s abode.”

Krey walked with him, and felt the eyes on his back peel away as they left the housed area and moved into the rural outskirts. It wasn’t long before he spied what had to be the field of memorial, a clean, well-tended area cut out of the long grass in which monuments were stood, many with weapons stuck into the ground next to them. The epitaphs on them were all written in the ancient lettering of Tahrés, the kingdom that no longer existed, where ancient humans made pact with holy ghosts and demons alike. Needless to say, Krey could not decipher a single word, but after some searching, Bel found who he was looking for. He took to one knee in front of them, the two newest graves in the field. “Akoshi… Girelba…” Bel spoke to them. “I’m back, just like I said I’d be. Though, I can’t say I’m planning on staying… especially now that my only reasons for doing so are in the ground.” He looked up at Krey, and then pointed to each of the headstones in turn. “Akoshi came to favour the dao, another kind of sword found here in Jiel. Girelba was always more fond of magic than martial arts.” Akoshi’s dao was stood in the earth between their headstones. “Krey… I know I’ve only known you and your friends for a short time, but… the simple truth is I owe you all my life. I’d be buried in a far less respectable grave than this field of memorial by now if you hadn’t dragged me from the sand. I would not repeat past mistakes by leaving more friends to fend for themselves without me. When our current business is concluded, I hope there will still be a place for me among you. It’s not the party I would’ve chosen… but it’s all I’ve got now.”

“I can’t guarantee we won’t all go our separate ways at the end of this,” Krey shrugged, “again assuming we all survive. And, if I’m entirely honest… I share your hopes for a continuation of our group.”

“You have reason to doubt your inclusion?”

“I’m a knight, Bel, sworn to duty. I will go where I’m sent, with or without friends. That is to what I’ve pledged my life. This time, though… it’s different. This will not be an easy duty to move on from when all is said and done.”

“Maybe I’ll join you,” Bel smiled, “wherever you end up going next. I’m no knight, nor will I ever don the crest of the arietes, but I can fight the good fight. Besides… I can keep an impartial eye on you and your colleagues that way.”

Krey almost chuckled. “Perhaps more scrutiny from outside eyes is exactly what the order needs in the times ahead. The severance… losing so many of our gods…”

“None of which concerns me,” Bel groaned as he rose to his feet. “For me, for those like me, nothing changes. All that will matter is all that has ever mattered; making this world a better place. And it has always fallen to us, the nobodies, to make that happen— gods or no gods.”

You are a fool, that voice came from below once again, deep in the recesses of Bel’s mind. Your task is as it ever was, whether you bring me Fyren’s soul or not.

Bel said nothing— thought nothing.