“Argrave,” Anneliese called out, drawing him from a book. He read beneath the shade of a palm tree just beside the oasis. His Brumesingers stood near the buried bodies of the veterans that had fought at Sethia. He had thought the southron elves might be bothered by this, but rather, they saw it as an honor. They hoped the Brumesingers would replicate the forms of their fallen warriors, some day.

“Hey,” he greeted, shutting the book at once.

“Reading what Garm wrote for you?” she questioned, walking up.

“Yeah,” Argrave nodded. “The stuff about the soul. Galamon had said it might interest me, and… well, it certainly sounds familiar.” He weighed the book in his hand. “Just as he wrote, whenever I tried to learn a spell ‘Argrave’ knew, I learned it very quickly. I guess if I ever tried torturing people, I’d be good at that, too.”

Anneliese raised a brow. “I take it ‘Argrave’ was not a good person?”

“If Felipe was their father, they’re a bother,” Argrave rhymed with a snap. “But what do you need? Some questions about our journey back north? About Orion? I was vague about him, but he’s… Christ, he’s my biggest worry. We stand to be here a couple more days. Plenty of time to settle anything that needs settling, I reckon.”

“Yet you are sad,” she noted.

Argrave turned away, then turned back. “I hope that isn’t obvious.”

“To me it is. To others… I know nothing of what they notice,” she shook her head. “What troubles you?”

“Just thinking… maybe if I had talked to Garm more, something like this wouldn’t have happened,” he admitted.

Her face fell a little. “Then it is not me alone thinking like that.”

Argrave gave a slow, bitter nod. “Ironically… heh,” he scratched beneath his nose. “If I had trusted him less, he’d be alive now.” He lowered his head. “Why was I so quick to bring Durran along? I smelled trouble. I knew something was brewing. If I had just…”

“I would feel a hypocrite consoling you when I feel the same. But truly, these thoughts do nothing for us. Nothing for Garm.” Anneliese held her hand out. “Come with me,” she insisted.

Argrave looked at her hand. He decisively set the book down and took her hand, standing quickly. She led him through the oasis town, and they waved to the few acquaintances they’d made amongst the southron elves. Eventually, she ducked into a cavern. Her Brumesinger was lounging away from the sun there, fluffy ears twitching.

Argrave was perplexed, but he said nothing. The dark cavern opened up after not ten steps, revealing a plateau beyond. He sized up the place, searching for something she might wish to show him. He soon realized he was looking in the wrong place, though. The suns were setting.

“I hoped you would be willing to do this, for me,” Anneliese began, stepping towards him. “Every time the suns descend below the horizon… we could watch them, talk… for an hour or so.”

With things falling into place, Argrave couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on his face. She’s more sentimental than she lets on, he realized. But the fact she suggested this meant that moment back then had meant as much for her as it had for him.

He held his hand out. “What if we’re underground? That happens a lot,” he asked teasingly.

“Argrave, I—”

“Of course we can,” he interrupted her before she could misinterpret his answer as hesitance. “That sounds nice. Something to look forward to at the end of the day.”

Her small frown quickly turned into a smile. “That is… good,” she took his hand. “I feared it would be difficult to persuade you, especially since your health has improved. But I think this will be good for you, genuinely.”

Argrave furrowed his brows. “You’re not doing this out of obligation alone, I hope.”

“Well…” she paused, pulling on his hand slightly. “Even though you constantly joke, all you talk about is how we are to deal with Gerechtigkeit, the plague… how else am I to ask you questions, learn about you?” She led him towards the edge of the plateau, where she sat. “So, sit. Vincenzo,” she said pointedly.

Argrave scratched the back of his neck, and then obediently sat. “The only person that still called me ‘Vincenzo’ was my ma. Most people said ‘Vinny.’”

“Your mother?” Anneliese repeated. “A fitting point to start…”

Index
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