Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn’t every day that a regular academy student wandered down to Abyss, even less so with a clear purpose in mind. Especially not now, in the middle of the night, where even a denizen could waltz into trouble should they take a wrong turn out the door--despite Yuri's best efforts to the contrary, of course. But when Yuri heard a knock on the open doorframe (speaking of things that almost never happened in Abyss), upon looking up to face Ashe, wearing the look of polite apology that belonged anywhere but here, he found himself not entirely surprised. Well, Yuri thought, I suppose a den of rogues isn’t too far out of his wheelhouse, isn’t it?

“What a surprise,” Yuri said, turning back to the letter from one of his sources, one he was too occupied with to muster any real sarcasm. “What can I do for you?”

“May I come in?” asked Ashe. This time, the unnatural politeness caught Yuri in an amused snort.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” he said, waving at the vague space in the chamber where there may be a spare chair. It wasn’t an entirely sincere invitation, but upon hearing a chair lightly scrape against the uneven stone floor, he rolled the letter back up and returned it to the string it came on.

“So,” he said, turning to Ashe, who was now sitting with ramrod posture in his seat. “What’s the occasion? More students getting kidnapped?”

“I need your help,” said Ashe.

“You personally?” Yuri said, finally easing into a smirk. “Well, how cute. But I think my services may be out of your area of interest.”

“It’s in regards to House Rowe,” said Ashe.

“You have picked the absolute worst pitch to get me interested,” said Yuri.

“I received a troubling letter from an old friend,” said Ashe, and Yuri took a moment to marvel at how well the man could let sour words roll off his back rather than let it get under his skin. “Do you know that Rowe Manor has been under knight supervision since his betrayal at Arianrhod?”

“I’m aware,” said Yuri.

“According to the letter,” said Ashe, looking up with odd concern in his eyes, “Count Rowe may have had access to information about Lord Lonato’s involvement in the rebellion against the church.” He sighed deeply. “And they may be trying to destroy the information.”

“A shame, but all of that’s outside my jurisdiction,” said Yuri, shaking his head. “The Knights and I have some…bad blood between us, let’s say.”

“That’s actually why I came to see you,” said Ashe. “The documents are being stored in a manse at the border of Gaspard and Rowe. And the ones in charge of it…they may be outside of direct knight supervision.”

“Ah, now I see,” said Yuri with another smile. “One, not every crooked knight is on my list of friends–if anything, I make it a policy to keep them at arm’s length. Two, why can’t you just ask the nice guards upstairs to do this for you? I’m sure they could take care of this, quick and easy.”

“Well…” Ashe said, eyes drifting to the floor. “Personally, I worry that these people who might be trying to destroy the documents are no different than I was–poor and desperate. Just being used as pawns in someone else’s scheme.”

“There’s certainly no shortage of the poor and desperate, now is there?” Yuri said.

“And if I handed this to the knights, those people would probably be killed.”

Yuri blinked, half-expecting this to be a joke. The look Ashe gave him back–reproachful, and unnaturally trusting–threw him. It was enough for Yuri to shake his head in another laugh.

“So! You march all the way down here, make a bleeding heart personal request to me, knowing full well who I am and what I do,” he said, resting his forehead in his palm. “And on top of all else, you’re asking me not to kill people!” Another snort, and he looked back at Ashe, whose gaze hadn’t so much as flinched.

“I’m not foolish enough to think you’d just agree,” said Ashe. “And if you don’t, that’s fine. I’ll just take my leave.”

“Oh come now, I was giving you a compliment!” said Yuri with a flick of his wrist. “You’ve got guts to hand me such an interesting offer. But…do you have the pay?”

Ashe sighed, finally looking a little uneasy as he reached into his pocket. If Yuri was a betting man, he would think that Ashe hadn’t expected to get this far in negotiations. Ashe lifted himself out of the chair to walk over to Yuri, dropping a small ring in his open palm. (Another naive move–handing the merchandise right over to a guy who could grab it and run. But still, the ill-placed trust was endearing.)

“This was given to Lord Lonato by Count Rowe,” said Ashe, as Yuri lifted the ring up between his fingers and watched it glitter in the dead candlelight of the underground. “In their prime, Lord Lonato took an arrow for Count Rowe during a particularly fierce border skirmish. Count Rowe gifted this to him as thanks.”

“Well,” said Yuri dryly, continuing to turn it. “How uncharacteristically generous of him.”

“If you look under the bridge,” Ashe said, as Yuri turned the ring upside down instinctively to look at the small engraving under the gem, “it bears the signature of Lemnos, the successor to Zoltan.”

“Which puts this in almost too good to be true,” said Yuri, balling the ring in his fist.

“I’ve looked it over many times, and had a few smiths do the same,” said Ashe somberly. “As far as we can tell, it’s genuine. But I understand full well there would be reason to suspect.”

“You seem like a sharp guy,” Yuri said, opening his fist to look at the ring again. It was a handsome thing–earthy rose gold wrapped around a glittering green emerald, a series of ridges little bigger than grains of sand wrapping the rails to evoke sprawling vines. “So you know that most people in my business don’t take merchandise instead of coin.”

“And I would never have enough to pay you for something like this,” said Ashe, pulling out a small bag that clattered lightly under its own weight. “All I have is two thousand gold to offer you. If the ring is genuine–”

“Which is a big ‘if’.”

“–and you can find the right merchant–”

“Two big ‘ifs’.”

“It could sell for a hundred thousand, easily,” said Ashe. “That’s all I can offer you. I’m sorry.”

Yuri sighed deeply. “You should know better than to apologize before even settling a deal,” he said. “How ‘bout this–give me five hundred gold, and I’ll write to some of my contacts. See what they can find. Honestly, this whole debacle was so cute, I’ll even cut it to four-fifty.”

“I can’t do that,” said Ashe, shaking his head. “Those documents could be long burnt by the time they even pick up your letter. I’m sorry, but I need to move fast.”

“There you go again, apologizing,” said Yuri, shaking his head with another sigh. “I know it doesn’t seem like it since you only see me at class, but I’m a very, very busy man. Especially now, with all the chaos at the monastery? You’re lucky you caught me in one place.”

Ashe exhaled as well, eyes once again falling to the floor. “Well,” he said, “that’s why I’m not expecting you to say yes.”

Yuri was aware of several things getting to him in the moment, making his stomach tug as he looked at Ashe. He liked none of them. So he picked the one that was easiest to admit: “You know,” he said, “I really hate when people use a cute face 1to get on my good side.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that,” said Ashe, a little too quickly, shaking his head.

“Either way, it seems you’ve caught me on a very generous day,” said Yuri, placing the ring on the table next to the letter he was reading. “I just had some troubling correspondence from the region.” He tried to give another smirk, but by the way Ashe’s face was beginning to brighten, he was worried it looked too genuine. “Seems like I’ll be taking a little field trip.”

“Thank you, Yuri!” said Ashe warmly, a little truer to his usual, gregarious self. “When are we leaving? I’ll be packed immediately.”

“Um, we?” asked Yuri, feeling his brow knit. “I’m going alone. You are going to hear back from me in three days.”

“But I have to come with you!” said Ashe, his hands balling into fists. “I still…Lord Lonato is too important to me.” He relaxed a little, eyes still fixed on Yuri. “I have to see why he did what he did with my own two eyes.”

“Well, aren’t you eager to run into the fire?” said Yuri. “Look, Ashe, you’re playing in dangerous waters. I like you too much to see you end up face down in the mud.”

“But won’t it be dangerous for you to go alone, too?” asked Ashe. “We’ve both been training for a while now. Two arms are better than one, aren’t they?”

Yuri admittedly didn’t know what to say to that. He felt his eyes close, inhaling sharply through his nose. “I do a lot of work. Bodyguarding isn’t one of them,” he said at last. “If you think I’ll be taking any arrows for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I know,” said Ashe. “Please, Yuri.”

“There you go, trying to play me with that face,” said Yuri with a huff. “I’m taking every coin right now, and the ring.”

“Thank you,” Ashe said, giving another smile.

“One day to leave, one day to investigate, one day to return, that’s it,” Yuri said, counting each on his fingers. He was striking a deal now, speaking with the decisiveness he’d used to inform any would-be swindlers that he will put a knife to them if they try any tricks. Ashe only nodded along, as if taking simple instruction. “I’m leaving at dawn tomorrow. If you’re a minute late, I’m leaving you behind and not looking back.”

“I understand,” Ashe replied.

“And I’m serious–if you die out there, that’s your business,” said Yuri. “The first sign of trouble, I’ll leave you in the Goddess’s hand. And I’ll count your gold with a smile on my face.”

“Of course,” said Ashe. “Would you be too offended if I keep an eye out for you?”

“I don’t particularly care either way,” said Yuri. “You can carry me in your big strong arms from here to Rowe and back, if that’s your fancy. I’m still not sticking my neck out for you.”

“Don’t worry, I get the point,” said Ashe, shrugging off the implication once again. The deftness of which Ashe simply would not let himself be hurt by words was, admittedly, fascinating to Yuri. “I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t make you upset. You seem like a proud man.”

“And you’re right–but not too proud to accept the unfounded generosity of naive do-gooders,” said Yuri.

“I couldn’t ask just anyone for this, you know,” Ashe said, answering a question Yuri thought was a waste to ask. “And I’m well aware of what you do, and how much you put into it.” It was a compliment, and Yuri had a mixed relationship with compliments. They were a lot like jewels–bewitching and easy to fake in equal measure, and each one to not be accepted in quite the same way.

“You truly have my gratitude,” Ashe continued. That was sincerity, close cousin of compliments. Sincerity was always hard to stomach. “Now then! Please allow me to take care of our provisions. What sorts of things do you like to eat?”

“Okay, now I’m getting a little worried,” said Yuri, cradling his forehead once again. “What do you think this is, a picnic?”

“Even you have to eat, don’t you?” said Ashe wryly, almost teasingly. “You know, most people say I’m a pretty good cook.”

People say the same about me Yuri thought, but instead found himself in what he could only presume was a failed smirk. “Well, if you’re a good cook, then it shouldn’t matter what you make,” he said, as Ashe responded with a confident chuckle. “Surprise me.”

Chapter Text

“We’ll be in Rowe by afternoon.”

It was the first thing Yuri said since they got in the carriage, which by now was almost an hour ago. Ashe blinked sleepily, still tired from staying up the previous night to prepare for his trip. Yuri sat across from him, chin resting in his palm and legs crossed, seemingly not looking at Ashe at all. Before Ashe could ask, Yuri gave him a shrug, eyes still elsewhere.

“So staring out the window with your eyes bugged out isn’t going to get us there any faster,” said Yuri. “Take a nap or something–you’re going to stress us both out before we even get there.”

“I will in a bit,” said Ashe, letting his head lean against the window of the carriage. The crags surrounding Garreg Mach were receding even farther into the distance, and he could already see the land begin to thin into Faerghus soil. “I was honestly enjoying the view.”

Yuri let out a murmur of approval and said nothing more. “What about you?” Ashe asked. “Don’t you like to watch the scenery?”

“Not when I’m on business, no,” said Yuri flatly, still not looking up.

“A shame! It’s really quite beautiful when the leaves are changing,” said Ashe with a smile. Yuri gave another grunt of ambivalence. Truth be told, there wasn’t a lot else to do anyway–the cart itself was small, with barely a few feet of space between their knees.

This was all still a novelty to him; Lord Lonato was a modest man, and much preferred traveling on horseback to cart. Ashe could count the times he rode in a cart with his adoptive father on his hands, usually with his brother and sister piled in the seats next to him. It was crowded and intimate, the perfect space for a family to indulge in some trivial silliness like word games and tall tales. Conversely, not the most comfortable space to share with an acquaintance whose preference is working alone.

Well, Ashe thought, pulling himself off the glass, I did strong-arm my way here. It’s fair he’d be uncomfortable. Ashe did two quick dashes of drumming against the seat, enough to contemplate. Talking may well make things worse, he decided–a few sour conversations could last a long trip quite well. Still, he could tell that Yuri was not the person who distinctly preferred silence with the company of others. Surely there must be...

“Oh!” he said, suddenly remembering, leaning his bow aside to reach under the seat. Yuri instinctively perked up upon seeing a weapon shift. “Are you hungry? I have breakfast.”

“Oh,” Yuri said, more surprised than enthusiastic. Ashe carried up a small basket, removing the lid and pulling out a small parcel wrapped gingerly in cloth. He extended it to Yuri, who merely looked on.

“It’s a breakfast pasty,” Ashe said. “Still warm!”

“Really,” said Yuri, that being what finally led him to reach over and take it. “Huh. How late were you up cooking this?”

“I got a few hours of sleep if that’s what you’re asking."

Yuri looked at him quizzically, the first time Ashe got direct attention since the conversation started. He was half wondering if Yuri would hand it back, but to his surprise, he let the top of the cloth unfold, biting into a corner of the crust. He gave another mutter, rocking his back and forth as if in judgment.

“Not bad,” he said, after a quick swallow. “Egg, cheese…what’s the fruit?”

“Apples.”

“Really,” said Yuri. “Did you do something?”

“I gave them a quick vinegar soak.”

“You put too much work into this,” said Yuri, taking another bite, bigger this time. “But. It’s pretty good.”

“Thanks,” said Ashe, moving to dig his own from the bottom of the basket. It wasn’t until he finally peeled the thin cloth and took a bite that he felt relief; it did turn out alright. Funny, he thought for a moment, letting himself take a more generous bite, did I really think he’d be the type to lie about something like that? Maybe to a client, he thought. But that’s not what Ashe really was, right?

“The man I’m looking for is a guy named Owen,” said Yuri, now about halfway through his pasty. “Used to be a knight from House Rowe. Got into a brawl over something stupid, and another soldier ended up dead for it.”

“That’s terrible,” said Ashe, as Yuri nodded in agreement. “I suppose he was stripped of his title?”

“Slated to be executed, too,” said Yuri, a bitter smile on his face. “But he was the favorite son of some noble egotist, so he got off with being banished from the village. And that is how he wound up in this little hamlet.”

“What kind of person is he?” asked Ashe. He couldn’t help but smile a little to himself, feeling a bit of the tension broken. He should have known that Yuri would be type to get excited about his work.

“Typical bully and braggart that got stuffed in a suit of armor,” said Yuri wryly, wrapping up the rest of the pastry. “And just dimwitted enough to get himself caught in something bad.”

“What is he doing now?”

“Being a bully and braggart out of a suit of armor,” Yuri replied. “But he was the biggest scoundrel on the block, and so the other scoundrels in this town made him their leader. Nothing really out of the ordinary.”

“Do you think he’d be the type to get used by someone else?” Ashe asked. It was an honestly curious question, but the look on Yuri’s face seemed caught off-guard. He straightened up in his chair, as if catching himself being less than professional.

“Fair question,” he said, letting his arms relax behind him until they were spread across the back of his chair. “He’s not what I’d call sharp, but he doesn’t like being the one given orders. Which is what made his dealings suspicious.”

“Oh?” Ashe said, leaning in a little bit. He was being too casual now, for certain. But he could hear it in Yuri’s voice–Yuri was enjoying telling the story. Ashe was rewarded with another proud smirk.

“Of all things, he and his goons have stopped doing their dirty tricks,” said Yuri with a shrug. “A month ago, they were clashing with the local knights almost daily. Now, they haven’t made a peep.”

“So either they’re pulling back to plan something,” Ashe said, tapping his chin, “or there’s something more dangerous on the street right now.”

“Exactly,” Yuri said with a nod. “Unless of course, they saw the light and became good little choirboys."

“I’m assuming you’re not putting too much faith in that,” Ashe said. Yuri let out a snort of laughter–it was spontaneous and put Ashe at an odd ease. “Thank you for telling me all that.”

“You don’t have a thing to thank me for–except telling you information you should have asked for earlier,” said Yuri. “Word of advice: if you’re going to be joyriding on another guy’s deal, be smart and actually know what they’re planning.”

“I suppose you could have just lied to me, though,” said Ashe. Yuri smiled at that.

“Now you’re learning,” he said. “But it’s still good to show that you’re on your toes. Not just sleepwalking and an easy throw guy if things go south.” He gave another flick of his hand. “And while I’m giving free advice, get some sleep. You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“What if you rob me blind?” Ashe asked, pulling out his cloak.

“As far as I’m concerned, I already have,” said Yuri. “Besides, pickpocketing someone when they’re sitting right next to you makes for an awkward ride, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose I wouldn’t know,” Ashe said, rolling the cloak into something close to a head rest. He placed it on the edge of the seat. “This is bad form for a carriage ride, isn’t it?”

“I’ve seen worse. I’ve done worse.”

“I see,” Ashe said. He could have sworn he saw a look of disappointment cross Yuri’s face, no doubt hoping for a rise. I just think it’s funny when you do that, he came close to saying. Upon realization, he burst out laughing.

“What?” Yuri said suddenly, oddly concerned. Ashe shook his head, finally letting himself hoist onto the seat so that his entire body laid across it.

“I was wondering if I could fit,” he said. “I guess I could.” He needed to bend his knees, but sure enough, he could use the whole chair as a makeshift bunk. He could have sworn he saw Yuri bite his tongue to stop the laugh from being louder than it was.

“Do you have any idea who you’re driving with right now?” he said, trying to be stern through the grin. “You’re lucky I just got fed, or I’d knock you out just for that.”

“You said you’ve seen worse?”

“Go sleep that stupid off before I change my mind,” said Yuri, successfully burying his amusement. “That’s not a request.”

Ashe didn’t think he fell asleep, but he must have at least dozed; the next time he stopped to take a look outside, the sun was now high in the sky. He threw himself up instinctually before taking in where he was: bobbing along in a cart, Yuri across from him, Ashe’s ring between his index finger and thumb.

“Morning sunshine,” he said, turning back to the ring in his hand. “Still not there yet–might as well go back to sleep.”

“You took it with you?” Ashe asked, letting himself collapse back onto the side of the door. He felt his shoulder stiffen, neck aching from suddenly returning to an awkward posture.

“Figured I’d have a good shot at getting a buy for it in town,” said Yuri. “Actually I know a very shrewd businesswoman with a good eye for jewels.”

“Oh,” Ashe said, “That’s good.”

“Why didn’t you sell this sooner?” Yuri said, eyes staring at him. They were sharp this time, probably suspicious. “You seem like a man that’s good at haggling. I bet you could have cut yourself a smarter deal, even back at Garreg Mach.”

“Well, it wasn’t really mine to sell,” said Ashe, turning to look at the ceiling. “When I had to sort through Lord Lonato’s possessions, I–”

Found it? Took it? Stole it? What’s the word for things that get left behind?

“It was a sentimental gift,” Ashe said. The ceiling had a small door, locked tight with a bolt. Maybe to let air in during the summer. “Lord Lonato said it was priceless.”
One day you’ll understand, Ashe, he recalled his father saying, stroking the top of his head while turning the jewel in the light. A life is worth more than the most precious jewel, and to save it a thousand times more. Ashe had never seen a real jewel before, and as it slowly twirled in Lord Lonato’s grip, he realized why it was spoken of with such mythology: a vibrant shard of heaven, every twist revealing light, like all the night sky in the palm of your hand.

“It really wasn’t my right to sell it, but I...” Ashe suddenly turned to Yuri, who looked oddly concerned. Not for the value of what he took, but what Ashe was saying to him. It was almost embarrassment on his behalf, one that he could read along Yuri’s eyes: aren’t you telling me far too much?

“I can’t just let a part of Lord Lonato’s life disappear,” he said. “Burned, forgotten, it’s not…” Yuri’s gaze was still fixed, still unusually worried. Ah. That’s what’s making him uncomfortable. “I think Lord Lonato would understand,” he finished, and Yuri sighed. He turned back to the jewel, looking it over as if it had suddenly lost its shine.

“Too naive for your own good,” he said at last. Ashe knew it was directed at him, but by some strange reason, it didn’t sting. Ashe found himself wondering why. I think, he reasoned with himself, it’s because it always feels unreal. Not dishonest, but not telling the whole truth. He could have sworn he once heard Count Rowe call them little white lies.

“If you don’t want to sell it, I think it would look good on you,” he said, as Yuri looked back over in surprise. “The ring,” he corrected, even though he could tell Yuri knew what he meant. “It matches your eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t green,” Yuri said.

“I know–It brings out their brightness.” Ashe said. “Things don’t have to be exactly alike to match.”

Yuri snorted, and Ashe could almost hear cornball line in its echo. Yuri turned back to the ring in his hand once more. After a moment, he smiled.

“Huh,” he said. “You might have some sense after all.”

Chapter Text

They arrived at the hamlet of Carcoire not long after noon, sooner than either of them predicted. While refreshed after catching a nap in the cab, Ashe was nonetheless stiff from the long ride, legs aching as he finally could stretch them into the fresh air.

“Careful,” Yuri said, as Ashe hopped flatfoot onto the earth. He was clearly shorter than the intended passenger, but he’d long since let such trivialities roll off his back. “Well! Here we are. Beautiful Carcoire, in record time.”

“Thank goodness,” said Ashe, taking a step forward. He was surprised how empty the carriage stop was–he’d assume that there’d be fair traffic this time of day. “I’ll arrange us a room at the inn in a bit. First, I need to speak with Sister Maylis. Oh!” he said, suddenly chuckling. “Sorry, she’s the one that wrote me the letter!”

“I figured,” Yuri said. “Works out well though. I need to do a few quick checks with some of my people. Make sure nothing’s fallen as hard and fast as they made it sound.”

“Oh, let me come with you!” Ashe said. “Two is better than one for these sorts of things, aren’t they?”

“Oh my goodness gracious!” said Yuri, giving him a theatrical laugh. “Are you going to protect me if some terrible bandit decides to cross me?”

“Well, yes,” said Ashe. “I said as such, didn’t I?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Yuri, now serious. “Really, it's for the best. Let’s say some of my contacts don’t like strangers.” He let out another little chuckle. “Even teddy bear knights with freckles and button noses.”

“Anything can happen out there,” said Ashe. “Please be careful. Okay, Yuri?”

“Wait, you really do think I need protection,” said Yuri, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh wow, that’s…sweet. Really sweet.” He let out a quick sigh, pulling some bangs out of his eyes. “Look, I’ll see you later. Sister Maylis, right? Does that mean you’ll be at the church?”

“I hope so,” said Ashe.

“Good, meet you there,” said Yuri, with a nod. “Anything can happen–don’t let those big scary nuns dunk your head in holy water.”

“Whatever you say,” said Ashe dryly, while Yuri gave himself another small chuckle at his own joke. He waved over his shoulder as he made his way, strangely, to what looked like a school building. Ashe found himself shaking his head, but to his surprise, he found himself smiling.

The people of Western Faerghus were historically pious, and the church was one of the few extravagances of an otherwise provincial town. The spire guided him up the long hilly path, past the general store and knights’ post, along the circular path of the central well, before finally directing him to the aged white facade of the chapel. The steps themselves were narrow, but the top was wide and accommodating, easily holding the form of a large man in leather armor, and next to that, a far more familiar face: a middle-aged woman, wide-shouldered and statuesque, thinning hair still grown long and hastily tied back, robes too short to hide the thick work boots beneath them.

“Sister Maylis!” Ashe said. He could almost hear Hanneman’s scolding reminder of you are representing Garreg Mach Monastery as he lifted his arm in an eager wave. Upon seeing him, she looked up from the haggard man, careworn face blooming into a relieved smile.

“Ashe, you’re here!” she said, lifting the hem of her robes to tuttle down the stairs and meet him. “Oh my goodness, look at you, like a proper knight now!”

“Oh, hardly,” he said with a laugh. He hadn’t seen her in a few months, and yet he was struck by how prominent the gray threads through her long auburn hair became, how distinct the folds at the corner of her eyes were now. “It’s so good to see you. Are you well?”

“Very,” she said with a dry chuckle. “But I must say though, I was expecting a letter, not a visit.”

“I’m so sorry for such short notice,” he said. “A friend of mine was traveling here, so I. Ha ha, I guess you could say I followed him along.” He felt sheepish as he said it, already knowing he was presuming too much.

“I worry that I may have sounded too urgent in my letter if you came here in such a short time,” she said, shaking her head. Her smile was careworn, weighed down with the distinct guilt that comes from a long history of want. “I hope I’m not taking you away from your studies.”

“Not at all–I can only stay for a few days, unfortunately,” he said. “I hope that I can at least assess the situation, and hopefully make a formal referral to the church.”

“I am in your debt,” she said, giving a small bow. “Forgive me for not being able to provide you proper accommodations. I’m afraid that the town–”

“Sister,” the man interrupted, giving her a firm clasp on the shoulder. Ashe could hear the sound of impact, but Sister Maylis didn’t so much as flinch.

“Yes, of course,” she said. Ashe caught the man giving him a quick look, a fleeting assurance that his presence was not needed. “Ashe, I’m sorry. Would you give me a moment?”

“Of course,” Ashe said. Sister Maylis turned on her heel, her posture suddenly assured and aloofly professional. It gave Ashe a pang of suspicion, one that he would debate the validity of as the two of them turned a corner of the church to talk in the grounds behind.

He didn’t realize the tension he carried until he finally exhaled, letting himself turn around to get a proper look at Carcoire. He could count the times on one hand that he visited with Lord Lonato on business, but it was as unremarkable as he remembered it, save for the prominence of the chapel which served as a hub of knights that used the town as a crossway between Gaspard, Rowe and Arianrhod.

That’s when he realized what was missing–the knights themselves.

As if to correct himself, he frantically searched up and down the path he came from. Far down the path, at the crossroad into the hamlet, he noticed there were a couple of men in armor leaningly listlessly against a hitching post. In the other direction along the town proper, nothing, save for the slow-paced afternoon bustle of shopkeepers.

He remembered Lord Lonato once bragging that the knights nearly outnumbered the townspeople themselves. It was, no doubt, why he directed Ashe’s brother and sister to stay here while his uncertain rebellion against the Central Church unfolded. The palatable barrenness of the town, as well as the discovery of yet another betrayal of Lord Lonato’s trust, made his breath prickle with anxiety.

He gave a brief look over his shoulder–half out of hope that Yuri might suddenly reappear, half out of old instincts of needing to secure an escape should he be caught mid-pilfer. Assured by the empty air, he made his way up the steps of the church, through the still-open double doors and into the dusty, filtered light.

The sight struck him instinctively, dark as mortality itself. The main hall was stripped bare, two long lines of cots parallel to each wall. Twenty or so all together, more than half filled–all of them children. Ashe could see the pallour of illness on them, the ragged lips from difficult breathing, the weak gaze of lethargy.

“Not too dangerous a fever, thank goodness.” From behind him, he felt Sister Maylis’s hand rest on his shoulder, and only then did he realize his fingertips were digging into his palms. “Older folks seem to recover quickly with a few days in bed. But the children…”

“Has anyone died?” Ashe asked. He felt his throat dry.

“No, by the Goddess’s mercy,” she said, her arm now wrapping around his shoulders. She was a tall woman, almost matching Lord Lonato. He remembered running to Gaspard, still soaked with the blood of battle, so certain that everyone was gone. It was Sister Maylis who was sent to assess the situation, and she who ran to meet him at the edge of the village as he thundered, screaming words he could not remember for the life of him.

Your brother and sister are safe he remembered hearing, the same memory of her arms pulling him close to her, hand at the back of his head. He could smell her soft, dusty shirt as she wrapped him in her, could only describe it as the feeling of a mother. Your brother and sister are in Carcoire. They’re safe. It was only then he could let it go, go all but limp so every fiber could simply wail in horror at the world.

“Why didn’t you write about this?” he asked.

“I wrote several letters to the kingdom,” she said. “Much of the crown's resources have gone to the unrest at Arundel and the Western Church. Even Lord Jourdain was pulled to fortify Arianrhod should the worst come to pass.”

“And took his knights with him,” Ashe said weakly. Sister Maylis nodded, gave his shoulder another squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

“Garreg Mach still holds the Western Church in suspicion,” she continued, with a gravity that made Ashe roil with shame. “An acolyte such as myself would have little chance of petitioning her aid, I should think.”

“Whatever you need, I’m here,” said Ashe, turning to face her. She blinked in surprise, her sorrow seeming to deepen in the small creases in her face. “This takes precedence over any information breach. I’ll even leave tomorrow for help should you need it.”

“Please, be at peace,” she said. “We were blessed with a fair winter last year, so our medicinal supplies are at a surplus. With rest and care, they’ll be fine–though I worry what this winter will bring.”

“I…I understand,” said Ashe. “Still, it’s difficult to care for so many people alone. Don’t hesitate to call on me for anything, even errands and favors.”

“Such a generous spirit,” she said, a smile finally crossing her face. “Truly, you’re growing to be a gallant knight, and a fine man as well.”

“Sorry for interrupting.” A knock rapped on the doorframe after the apology, and sure enough, Yuri was there with a look on his face of someone who'd already carefully eavesdropped.

“Oh, Yuri!” said Ashe, guiding Sister Maylis toward him. “Sister Maylis, this is Yuri. He’s the friend that I’ve been traveling with.”

“Ah, I see,” she said with another small bow. “Thank you for accompanying Ashe, and welcome to our humble chapel. Our home and the Goddess’s benediction are yours in equal measure.”

“Your grace in troubling times is a visage, sister,” said Yuri, returning her nod. Something about the unusual deference traced a smile on Ashe’s face. “Now, forgive my rudeness. Are you currently accepting donations?”

“Ah, um,” she blinked, recovering quicker than Ashe, who stood agape. “Yes, of course. We’d happily accept–”

“Excellent,” said Yuri. “Twenty thousand gold is all I have immediately. I hope that’s enough to fill in the gaps.”

“Twenty thou–!” Ashe nearly spat.

“Your…your generosity is truly lavish,” said Sister Maylis. “I can only apologize. Any hospitality I’d have to offer you would be humble in comparison.”

“Well, good thing donations don't have strings attached, now should they?” said Yuri. His gaze was nothing like his offer–sharp and cold, like the glint of a dagger’s edge. “Now, before I give you this, I’d like to offer some free financial advice. Specifically about your dealings with–”

“I’d rather not discuss such things in front of the children,” said Sister Maylis, strangely firm, placing a hand back on Ashe’s shoulder. “Please, follow me to the service room.”

“As you wish,” said Yuri curtly. “Lead the way, sister.”

This was a conflict, and Ashe knew it. And like the worst of conflicts, it was between two people who, in his humble opinion, need not be fighting. Caution stilled him as he dutifully followed behind them into the high-ceilinged room beyond the main hall, towering images of the Goddess’s majesty glowing orange in the afternoon light. The room rumbled with the echo of the great doors creeping shut behind them.

“Sister Maylis,” Ashe offered, trying to broach the subject before Yuri could interrogate. “I meant what I said when I’d do all I could for you.” He sighed, already hating himself for taking on the distant mantle of a mediator. “Are you in some sort of trouble right now?”

“Regrettably, circumstances have led me to request the aid of those outside the kingdom’s purview,” she said, speaking to Ashe directly.

“A very diplomatic way to say you’re working with a pack of cutthroats,” said Yuri, shaking his head. “Please do me a favor and tell me you were simply too stupid to check on the men who are smuggling your goods.”

“Resources and manpower have been in short supply since Lord Jourdain’s departure,” said Sister Maylis, her tone unchanging. “Should the wolf come, I am to stand before my flock. And should the wolf keep coming, I must keep him at bay.”

“Even if it means cutting the wolf some protection money. Cute,” said Yuri dryly. “Don’t get me wrong sister–I’ve had to hire a few guys off the books myself. But I’d think you’d be smart enough to not keep coming back to an oathbreaker.”

Sister Maylis sighed, but it gave way to a smile unlike Ashe had seen. “I thank you for your concern,” she said. “And I’ve no place to cast aside the good faith complaint of a fellow sinner. But I fear you may overreach yourself.”

“You can set this empty church on fire and burn yourself alive in it. I’d still say a prayer for you,” said Yuri. “But dragging sick children into your game? You’re lucky I don’t bury bodies alone.”

“Yuri, enough!” Ashe said, louder than even he expected. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sister, this is Owen’s gang, isn’t it? W–I’ve already been looking into them. Please,” he was trying to be warm. Assuring. All those things a gallant knight would be when talking down the aggrieved. Sister Maylis’s face did not change. “Please, let us talk to the knights.”

“Ashe,” she asked, suddenly sharp while still stone-faced. “Do you really think the knights won’t have me executed if they knew?”

“They–”

“All of the bishops in the Western Church are imprisoned or dead,” she said. “Only acolytes such as I are left to lead the people of Western Faerghus. My friends have left their homes and families to tend to far flung villages, all while the graves of their brothers and sisters have yet to go cold.”

She didn’t say Lord Lonato’s name, but it flashed in her eyes. Retaliation for the rebellion on the Central Church. Ashe’s throat burned.

“Oh? So your point is that you really are doing this to keep your own skin?” said Yuri, eyes narrowing. “That’s rich! Delightful! Ah, nothing warms the heart quite like selfishness wrapped up in–”

“And you,” she said, for the first time looking Yuri in the eye. “Tell me, what do you charge for your dealings? Ten coin to purge the beasts that chase our flocks? Twenty to steal medicine from the capital and smuggle it to our forgotten town?”

“Better than what those robbers are offering, I bet,” said Yuri.

“And less unscrupulous to boot, I’m sure,” said Sister Maylis. “Never resorting to such lowly things as killing and battery. Pickpocketing from a higher class of noble. Guilt-free crime, at reasonable prices.” She gave another soft chuckle. “Your services must be in high demand.”

Yuri said nothing.

“Ah, my apologies,” she said, looking up at the window. “The hour is late. I’m afraid I’ve much to attend to.” She gave them both a deep bow. “Ashe, let's meet tomorrow to sort through this mess at the manse. And negotiate the details of that donation, should you be so inclined.”

She turned back to the double doors, digging her hands into the seam with well-worn ease, and pushing each of the heavy doors aside with each arm. It spilled in the hazy red light of the afternoon, catching the light of her thin, flyaway hair, already slipping out of her ponytail from the strain of the day. When she turned back toward the both of them, her face was oddly pensive, as if, despite it all, she was truly unoffended. She lifted her hand to the front of her face–a brief blessing–before turning back to the ward of the sick.

Chapter Text

The inn was as bare bones as the rest of the town, which Yuri was grateful for: he could read the writing on the wall for many things, but availability for rooms was never one of them. The innkeeper had clearly not seen traffic for quite some time, and treated them with a glut of friendliness and attention. It was a mixed blessing on a trip like this.

The inn’s tavern had a similar vibe–sparsely packed, leaving a dearth of attention from the bartender and hostess. Yuri found himself doing most of the talking to both, and he preferred it that way. Ashe hardly said a word through the whole thing, even when two bowls of oxtail stew were brought to their table along with a still-steaming loaf of bread between the two of them. It was the silence that Yuri had been hoping for since the journey began. He really didn’t know what compelled him to talk.

“You know,” Yuri said at last, “considering the year, I’ve had a lot of boring dinner company. But you’re definitely up there.”

“I can only imagine,” Ashe said, stirring the stew half-heartedly.

“I was joking. Relax,” said Yuri, even though Ashe already was sedate. He was still not looking at Yuri, which Yuri found more irritating than he should. He reached for a goblet placed at the end of the table. “Wine?”

Ashe looked up in brief surprise before shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said. “I’m too young.”

“Well, aren’t you a good little boy,” said Yuri with a shrug. “Suit yourself.” He pulled the bottle up and filled his cup. “You could probably drink the whole bottle and not even get fuzzy.”

Ashe didn’t say anything. Yuri was long past the point of getting annoyed at lack of interest in conversation. Granted, there were times when such were disadvantageous during negotiations, but this was just conversation; and just like feelings, conversation was fickle and fleeting. He let himself take a brief sip (no cause for concern–no feeling of powder on his lips, no uncharacteristic bitterness or fruity aftertaste trying to hide something). As he thought, the taste of alcohol was weak.

“I’m sorry,” Ashe finally said.

“For what?”

“For yelling at you,” Ashe said, lifting his spoon to his lips. “Back at the chapel. I cut you off when you were talking.”

“I really don’t–oh, that,” said Yuri, suddenly remembering. “Actually, I should thank you for that. I ought to know better than to get too heated in a negotiation.”

“Is that what it was?” Ashe asked.

“Basically,” said Yuri, taking a spoonful of his own stew. “And I was doing it alone, too. She could have easily gotten angry and tried to get into a fight with me.”

“I was there.”

“That you were,” said Yuri. “But you were mediating, not backup. Two very different things.” It was a statement of fact, but Yuri could have sworn Ashe looked down. “Either way, it was a good reminder. It’s why I’m buying you dinner.”

“Oh,” Ashe said. “Thank you.”

“No need to drown me in gratitude, now,” said Yuri, finding himself staring at a particular swirl in the broth more fixedly than he should.

“No, I am grateful!” Ashe said suddenly, looking a little stricken from embarrassment. “I’m really…” he let out a breath again, eyes falling back to his meal. “I’m really sorry.”

“And I said it’s fine,” Yuri said. Conversations are like feelings–fickle and fleeting.

“When Lord Lonato died,” Ashe said, “Sister Maylis took care of my family. Saw that they were moved safely.” There was a note of apology in his voice still, but also a clarity that seemed close to pride. “She was a great comfort in a dark time.”

“You two sound like you go back,” Yuri said, looking at Ashe with hands clasped.

“Not really,” Ashe said. “She was an acquaintance of Lord Lonato, so I ran into her a few times, but…” he let out a sigh, reaching for his glass of water. “I really didn’t talk with her until…until after the rebellion.

“I see,” Yuri said. Lonato’s attempted coup on the Central Church. Yuri himself had tried to put the pieces together of exactly what happened, and why Lonato made such a dangerous gamble with all but no hope of winning. Contacts and interviews gave him some theories, but nothing he’d make a bet on if pushed. Such things can slip through even the most cutting of gazes, the most thorough of studies, and simply drift into the sands of time.

“I was only vaguely aware that she was a part of the Western Church,” Ashe continued. “She gave Lord Lonato his last rites and buried him, even as the church was purged.” He drank deeply from his cup, knot in his brow the only giveaway that he was swallowing something back.

The red wine’s a good complement for this, actually, some part of Yuri thought. It brings out the savor of the beef. Makes it taste a little less like salt. Ashe dropped his glass on the table, exhaling loudly. You could use a drink right now, Yuri thought. He wondered which would sound stupider to say out loud. “I don’t know why she’s doing this,” Ashe finished at last.

“I don’t blame her for cowing to bandits, per se,” said Yuri. He reached to the center of the table to pull a wedge of bread off the loaf. “I just don’t like it when children get caught up in the half-baked schemes of adults.” He didn’t know why he was hesitating to take a bite. “That’s all.”

“To tell the truth, I feel the same way,” said Ashe, a trace of a smile crossing his still-weighed face. Yuri finally took a bite of the bread to quiet whatever twitched in mind. “My parents died of the plague, and I had to take care of my younger siblings. I was…” He let out an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t owe me a story,” Yuri said suddenly. “You can feel however you want about the sister, the kids, anything. I’m still going to do your job.” He took another bite. “Another piece of free advice–don’t hand out your story to the person you hire. You won’t get sympathy, and they may use it against you later.”

“I suppose I was just talking as a friend,” Ashe said. Yuri didn’t bother to agree or refute it–it would just lead to a conversation best not had. Ashe laughed guiltily. “Though you’re right. I guess I brought it up because I was curious about you.”

“Curious about me how?”

“I could tell you were upset,” said Ashe. “And I wondered why.”

You should never tell your client your story too, for the opposite reason. They will absolutely sympathize with you, and get invested in you. And with investment comes a sense of ownership. And with ownership, a danger to you both.

“The Faerghus Plague, right?” said Yuri, returning to his wine. “Nearly died from that one too.”

“Oh,” Ashe said. “Your parents–”

“My Mother. Alive, Bless the Goddess.”

“Oh. Oh, good,” said Ashe, smiling with relief. Yuri could tell he was hoping for more–but that was all he was getting.

“You must have been really little then,” said Yuri. “Too little to be on your own.

“I think a few strangers may have helped us here and there, but…yeah,” said Ashe. “It wouldn’t last long.”

“If there’s one thing kids are, it’s hungry,” said Yuri dryly. “And I remember food being hard to come by, even when the plague was over.”

“So you know how it is,” Ashe said, lifting the pitcher of water to refill his glass. “I still feel guilty with what I had to do to get by.”

“You shouldn’t,” Yuri said, taking another sip of his own drink. “Kids are supposed to live. It’s just how it is.” He grunted toward himself. “Hence why I lost my temper.”

“Really, you weren’t wrong,” said Ashe. By now, his bites of stew were a little more steady, like he was really eating. “If you were speaking with anyone else, I’d probably agree with you. Hence why I apologized."

“I told you, it’s fine,” Yuri said. He could feel a bitter smile creep along his face. “I mean, really, which one of us is the more dangerous one at the end of the day? A poor woman working in a church, or a pack of thieves?”

“There was a time when I would have agreed with you.”

Yuri didn’t know why that caught him. It was a mistake to look up at Ashe’s face. There was a distinct sort of smile on it, one that, despite Yuri’s best efforts, understood him. Being understood is the one thing you never, never want to get caught in.

“When you think about it, Owen and those bandits are just like we were,” said Ashe, putting down his spoon. “People that had no place, and were just trying to get by. Selfish. Oh, I mean!” he said quickly, waving his hand, stupid smile on his face. “I don’t mean to say you were selfish. Just. Self-motivated.”

Yuri decided to hold back on saying 'I knew what you meant' just to see what would happen. Ashe shrugged sheepishly.

“But either way, it’s predictable, you know?” said Ashe, a little flush with embarrassment. “All they’re really going to do is what will keep them alive. Sure, they cause trouble and pain, but not like…” His eyes narrowed. “After all, Lord Lonato–”

“Ugh, spare me,” said Yuri, eyes snapping to Ashe. “In case you haven’t noticed, the only reason we have lords and sisters is because they’re cleaning up the mess caused by people like me. Not every cutpurse is some hapless victim of circumstance.” This time, he turned to the wine, topping off his goblet–a little more than he had intended.

“Really,” Yuri said, putting the bottle on the table, being careful to keep his gaze away from Ashe’s. “Good people like you are the ones that are all the same. Calling themselves monsters while the real villains come out of the dark to drink up their tears.”

He’s being sharp again, just like he was at the church. He knew it, and he didn’t know why. Ashe was…something. Annoying? Naive? Too much. Yes, that was it, too much. He’d been too much since the moment he met him. The first time he gave Ashe his name in Abyss, he could see his eyes light up like he was some long lost brother–offering him a way back home, as if he’d take him back to Count Rowe by the hand. And kept doing foolish things like that: knocking on doorframes to be polite when there was no one to be polite to; baking breakfast pasties with care into the dawn, all for people who weren’t even hungry; making small talk, smiling at strangers, talking like he was a bad person too and that was fine. And now, extending forgiveness before he was even wronged.

He hadn’t yet realized that the heart wasn’t a bottomless well, that one couldn’t be infinitely generous with kindness. He was the sort of person Yuri couldn't stand.

When he looked up, Ashe’s face was like stone. He could see the tension of torment, trying to show agreement rather than his feelings. There was an unmistakable gleam along the bottom rim of his eyes.

“Goddess bless these barren lands,” Yuri grumbled to himself, tearing into the pocket of his coat. He pulled out a handkerchief quickly and shoved it roughly across the table, nearly knocking over his glass as he did so. Ashe looked stunned, the surprise chasing one of the tears down his cheek. “Here. Use it.”

“Oh, geez,” said Ashe, taking the handkerchief, brushing his eyes clean with barely a swipe. “I apologize. That was childish of me.”

“It’s fine, seriously,” said Yuri. “You are a child.”

“We’re not that far apart in age,” Ashe said.

“I can drink, and you can’t,” Yuri countered, not looking at him.

“Drinking doesn’t make you an adult."

“And crying doesn’t make you a child.”

It wasn’t supposed to be a comfort, but it made Ashe burst into a bright laugh. The kind where you could hear the tension fly off into the night, like a bird released from a trap. Yuri wasn’t going to let himself look. Childish he thought again. To his surprise, something inside him twisted with disappointment.

“You got me,” said Ashe. He was speaking in that way he usually did–light, unburdened. Bubbling under his own kindness. Too much. “Thank you.”

“I’m doing this for myself,” Yuri said, lifting his glass and taking another long sip. “I told you–I hate when people are cute to get on my good side. And there’s no cuter ploy than tears.” To his surprise, he heard a chuckle as he pulled the glass away. “What?”

“I’m probably presuming,” Ashe said with a smile, placing the handkerchief at his side. It was still starchy from its limited use. “But you seem like the type who uses your looks to get on people’s good sides all the time.”

“Well!” Yuri said through a laugh. “At least I play it more subtly than you do.”

“I find that a little hard to believe,” Ashe said, head sinking into the back of his hand. “Your beauty is striking.”

“I know, thank you,” said Yuri. No point in letting this line of topic grow.

“You know,” Ashe continued, “if Lord Lonato told me he was planning to stand against the church, I’d probably join him.” It was a dark confession, but to Yuri’s surprise, Ashe said it with a peaceful smile on his face. “I wonder what kind of person that makes me?”

“You hired a felon living in Abyss to help clear your father’s name, you got distracted helping sick children, and now you’re waxing poetic at how criminals are good and you’re bad,” said Yuri. “Sorry friend, there’s no label for you–you’re just a piece of work.”

Ashe laughed. His eyes closed under his smile, cheeks pinching as his hand lifted to stifle his own laugh. “You’re really funny, Yuri,” he said.

Childish, Yuri thought. He didn’t know who it was directed towards.

Chapter Text

Yuri always made it a policy to be up far earlier than anyone he worked with. He was already being lax in sharing a room with Ashe--at least some caution was due. But while he did manage to get out of bed and start his day before both Ashe and full daybreak, it wasn't by much. He had just started putting on makeup by the time he heard Ashe stir off the blankets from the bed across the room.

“Morning Yuri,” Ashe said groggily.

“Morning,” Yuri said, not looking up from his mirror. Beginning with clean skin was the essential first step, and one he preferred over half-baked morning pleasantries. He heard a shuffling from behind him, a small thump as Ashe’s feet landed on the floor. Yuri had just finished dabbing his cheeks dry when he caught Ashe at the corner of his eye, eyes half-lidded in sleepiness, carrying a tightly folded uniform across the room. Off to change out of Yuri’s sight.

“Well, aren’t you a good little boy,” Yuri muttered to himself, reaching for his concealer. Not too long after he began to spread it under his eyes, he could hear a light splashing coming from the other room, followed by a small, quick smack. Yuri’s reflection smirked at him–he must be trying to wake himself up.

“Don’t know why I’m even going all out,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve got a playdate with nuns and knight dropouts.” His reflection gave him a cagey look, as he pulled out a thin tube of lipgloss to drag across a slightly parted smile. Not long after, the door clicked open, and Ashe walked past him, lightly scratching the back of his nape. He offered Yuri a brief smile while passing by. Yuri pretended to not notice.

He heard the mattress of Ashe’s bed creak as he returned the lipgloss to its case. He opened his palette of paint–shades of dark purples and winey reds. He dropped his eyelids, felt that pleasant pressure against them which he couldn’t help but enjoy: a quiet touch just for him. He was turned to look over his shoulder as he opened his eyes. Ashe was staring out the window, his back to Yuri, watching the morning light start to creep bright edges along distant hilltops.

“You don’t need to hide your face,” said Yuri, dabbing one last corner of his eyeshadow back to even. “It’s not like I’m naked.”

“I figured you’d take this sort of thing seriously,” Ashe said, still facing the window. “So I didn’t want to stare.”

“Are you saying you would stare?”

“Maybe?” Ashe said with an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, I’ve never watched someone put on makeup before.” He shrugged. “And you look really nice. I think I’d get wrapped up in that sort of thing.”

“You really have to watch how you talk,” said Yuri, snapping his case shut. “I’m done, you can turn around.” Ashe swung his legs around the foot of the bed, turning so he could now sit and watch Yuri. “But really. If you're not careful, someone might think you’re trying to flirt with them.”

Ashe shook his head. “I don’t think I could do something like that if I tried.”

“Well, you should learn. It’s a good skill to know at your age.” Ashe gave him a quizzical look, making Yuri sigh. “Fine, our age. Seriously, aren’t you in the same class as Sylvain?”

“I, uh. I don’t think I want to take after him,” Ashe said.

“Smart boy,” Yuri said. He shouldn’t have felt so relieved. “Look, it’s basic stuff. When someone meets your gaze, they’re trying to get you, you know?” Ashe gave him a nod. “Really, it’s all about attention. Smile at them. Look them in the eye.”

“But that’s just being nice, isn’t it?” asked Ashe. “It’s kind of sad if people think something like that when you’re just trying to be kind.”

“Well, that’s why you’d do other things,” said Yuri. “Lower your voice. Give them a nod. You know, lay on the charm.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Amateur mistake,” Yuri said. “Most times, people don’t even want you to talk. Pickup lines are either for jerks or the self-absorbed.” He let himself smirk at that, which earned him a smile from Ashe as well. “If you’re going to say something, keep it simple but evocative. You know, ‘hey, need some company?’”

“Hey Yuri,” said Ashe, squinting and smiling too broadly, dropping his voice an octave. “Need some company?” Yuri worried his laugh woke up the entire inn.

“No! No, no no,” he barely managed to choke out, pulling himself up from gripping his sides. “No, stop,” he said, watching as Ashe pulled himself up from his own laugh. “Okay just–really just never do that again.”

“Okay! Okay,” Ashe chuckled. “What else?”

“Lift your chin a bit,” said Yuri, pointing to his own and tilting it up. Ashe followed suit. “And when I say go lower with your voice, I mean like…no.” He shook his head. “And Great Goddess in Heaven, keep your eyes open.”

“Hey Yuri,” Ashe said, smiling a little. The sunrise caught the edges of his hair. “Do you mind some company?”

It was a lot better.

“Yeah, you’re not ready for this,” said Yuri, turning around. He waved at Ashe over his shoulder. “Look, we’re leaving tomorrow first thing–let’s get moving.”

The sun was still barely creeping to its morning height by the time they left the inn. After a quick breakfast, the two of them agreed that there was much to be done, and time tends to pass fast on a deadline. And, Yuri had insisted, he still wanted to talk to that merchant about the ring. Ashe looked at him a bit incredulously as he brought it up, to which Yuri only responded with a breezy smile. Well, Yuri reasoned, I suppose it’s cute that he thinks twenty thousand gold is easy to come by for someone like me.

“I really am close to home,” Ashe said suddenly, looking up at the sky as the two of them made their way toward that high church spire. “I don’t know why it’s finally hitting me.”

“I told you before–this isn’t a picnic,” said Yuri. “Best not to absorb the sights too much when you’re out on a job.”

“You really are focused,” said Ashe. Yuri only shrugged in response. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You’ve given me a lot of good advice,” said Ashe. “Really, I wasn’t expecting to learn so much.”

“For crying out loud, would you please stop treating this like a field trip?” Yuri sighed, throwing both his hands behind his head.

“But I'm having fun,” said Ashe brightly. “I’m glad I got to come along with you.”

“Are you saying you’re absolutely enraptured with my company?” said Yuri with a teasing smile. “Are you going to cry bitter tears when we have to part once more?”

“Of course I’m enjoying your company. Sheesh,” said Ashe with a sigh. Yuri blinked in surprise–he was pretty sure that was the closest he’d seen Ashe get to annoyed. Before he could pry further, Ashe stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening.

“What?” Yuri asked, eyes already following his sight. They were at the steps of the church, which were–despite not yet even receiving the morning’s light–already immaculately swept. Indeed the entire path was spotless, as if someone had sat down on hands and knees and scrubbed.

But there was one conspicuous blemish just before the double doors: a deep crack in the top stair, its crevice dark with dried blood.

“Something’s wrong,” Yuri said, keeping his voice low. Ashe turned and gave him a nod. “I’m going to check on the kids.”

“I’ll search the grounds,” Ashe said, turning on his heel and bolting around the corner. Yuri threw the doors open at full force, the clatter shaking the frame, flooding the main hall with morning light and throwing about a dozen heads bolt upright in their cots. One of the children began to scream.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m so sorry,” said Yuri, doing a quick head check on each one. Still careworn with illness, but all alert and unscathed. He dropped to his knees next to the girl who was still screaming. “I know, I scared you,” he said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. “I’m really sorry.” She stopped for a moment to stare at him with bulbous eyes, then tore the handkerchief out of his hands and buried her face in it to sob.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She shook her head furiously. “Did anyone hurt you?” A pause, another shake of the head. “Do you know where Sister Maylis is?” She let her eyes rise over the cloth, red and glaring. She let out a huff before burying her face back in, shaking her head again. Yuri let out a small breath. “You probably don’t talk to strangers,” he said. “Good girl.”

“Yuri!” Ashe said sharply from the doorway. His eyes were steely; he jerked his head over his shoulder. Yuri nodded back.

“Try to get some sleep,” he said, rising to his feet, the girl staring back at him defiantly. He strode back to the door, quickly and quietly. When he made it back to the stairway, he made sure to carefully close the double doors behind him.

“Is she dead?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Ashe said. “But something happened out back.”

“Right,” Yuri said, drawing his sword from the scabbard at his side. Ashe unhitched his bow from his shoulder in response. “Keep my back, will you?”

“On it,” Ashe said, notching an arrow loosely on his string. Without another word, Yuri pressed himself against the wall of the church, sliding around its edge into the courtyard. The rising sun cast the alley into something close to night, making the creep along the church especially quiet. The signs of struggle were more pronounced now–deep slashes in the ground, blood streaked more visibly in the grass. Dirt and green trampled underfoot, leading to a chaotic locus next to the storehouse out back. Muddy footprints stacked on top of another. The door was torn off the hinge. A scraping sound could be heard dully from within.

Yuri reached back to pat Ashe on the shoulder. Ashe nodded and pulled the arrow back on the string. Yuri dropped immediately, allowing a second for a deep breath before lunging at the entrance to the storehouse. He sprung up, stance wide, eyes forward, both hands on the hilt.

Sister Maylis stood slightly hunched over the broom too small for her to use. There was a deep slash in her arm, making her motions slow and limp. Still, she turned to look at Yuri, eyes heavy with exhaustion. She sighed and turned away, not particularly shocked to see him staring her down.
“It seems I’ve left a terrible impression on you,” she said, returning to her sweeping. Yuri exhaled, resheathing his sword with a rough shove. He could hear Ashe’s bow go slack behind him.

“What on–” Yuri couldn’t even finish. He groaned loudly, burying his head into his hand. “Sister, with all due respect, what the hell happened here? You’re lucky we–”

“Your arm!” Ashe said, rushing past Yuri. He reached out for Sister Maylis’s back, guiding her to a stool near the door. “What are you thinking? You’re still bleeding!”

“It’s been treated,” she said, nonetheless letting herself be seated. “Worry not.”

“If it’s bleeding, it’s not treated,” said Ashe, lifting up the sleeve of her injured arm. A tightly wound bandage was soaked through. He sighed and shook his head. “For pity's sake,” he muttered, reaching for a thin knife to start cutting the dressings.

“Alright, so what was it?” Yuri asked, watching the severed bandage slowly snap loose. “Missed a payment? Got on someone’s bad side?”

“They weren’t kind enough to tell me,” she said dryly. “I assume the former, though I can’t imagine a house visit from the Savage Mockingbird helped.”

“Good grief,” Ashe breathed, revealing the gash. It was deep and dark red, bits of shredded white skin at the sides. “Did you wash this?”

“I did,” she replied. Ashe gave it a look over, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. “I tried applying some dried willow’s bark, but it seems to not be working.”

“You’d need a lot more than ‘some’,” Ashe said, straightening up. “The cut’s clean, but it’s pretty deep. We might need to–”

“Here,” Yuri said, extending a hand toward Sister Maylis. Ashe looked at him with surprise. “I know some healing magic. Let me give it a try.”

“Oh! That’d be very helpful,” said Ashe, taking a brief look around. “I’ll try to clean up here. See what’s damaged.” He picked up the broom resting against the wall. “At least get all this broken glass out.”

“Right,” Yuri said, spreading his fingers and hovering over the wound. Beloved Sothis, if only for a moment, let me see through your eyes. He felt the breath of life beneath his skin. Sister Maylis exhaled through her nose, finally letting some tension release.

“It’s rare that a member of the church doesn’t know healing magic,” he said, feeling the light dance beneath him. He lowered his voice before continuing, “Even rarer that I hear that little nickname off their lips.”

“I hope you didn’t disturb the children with all this,” she said.

“I might have, sister–apologies,” Yuri said. Behind him, he could hear the tinkle of glass clattering under Ashe’s furious sweeps. “I hope you’re planning on giving Owen a good scolding for waking the babies up.”

“Doubt everything about me, save one thing,” she said quietly. “I will not let them so much as look at the children.”
A retort danced on Yuri’s lips until his eye caught a flash of red in her palms. Her hands were like the rest of her–stocky and muscular, deeply calloused from years of use–but also sported bright red abrasions across their corners. The unmistakable burn of a weapon’s grip.

“I think I got most of it,” said Ashe, walking back over to them. “That’s the only good news though. I could salvage barely any of the supplies.” He sighed. “Most of the medicine’s ruined.”

“The children are recovering, so there’s no immediate danger,” she said before Yuri could ask. “But winter is coming. And should there be another spike, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Yuri. “I have a very reliable apothecary for a friend over in L’acois. I’ll write him a letter–he’ll be happy to pay a visit.”

“It’s been a warm autumn. I’m willing to bet there’s still some plants to gather,” said Ashe, brushing his hands on his shorts. “At least enough for a couple days.” He turned to Maylis and Yuri. “Oh wow, you did well!”

“Huh? Oh,” Yuri said, looking down at the wound. Sure enough, it was already beginning to close. “Yeah, looking good. Keep it clean, no more brawls with bandits.”

“I’ll try,” she said. Yuri almost scoffed–he expected to at least get a laugh out of her. “The Goddess smiles on your kind hearts."

If only she’d smile on your good sense, Yuri thought darkly.

“We should get this place cleaned up before the children wake up,” said Ashe, walking over to the door and lifting it back to the hinge. “Oh, good,” he said, “just needs to be screwed back in.”

“Let’s go wash off the carnage, shall we?” said Yuri with a sigh. “Oh, hang on.” He turned back to Sister Maylis and lifted up her hand, tracking a slight sigil along the red welts in the cracks of her palm. He didn’t entirely intend for it to be generous, so it was unnerving to see her smile.

Chapter Text

The gash in the painting along the wall was so deep it carved into the wall behind it. Cut from the top right corner to the bottom about three quarters across it, it contorted the remaining parchment from the loss of tension. It made Ashe pause in contemplation, more than he would have had it merely hung in its intended regal splendor.

The flags that marched over the hills in the unblemished distance were those of House Rowe, the mount of their carry looking about eighty years old–probably from the March for House Blayyd. At that point, Gaspard was a crestless house with little renown, so it was unlikely that their flag would have been included in this grand march across history.

And it may be gone forever now some voice warned him. It made him swallow a pitch of shame, gripping the tools he carried a little tighter.

Ashe knew, before even the setting of memories, that the life of nobles was grandiose. Yet despite living amongst its splendor for almost half his life, some child of the streets could still only cower before it. Paintings were one such towering luxury–a moment caught in time, magnified in glory and grace until it was something close to a visage of heaven.

When he lived in Castle Gaspard, there was one such painting on the mantle that always stopped him and commanded his attention: one Lord Lonato had commissioned of himself, his late wife, and their son, Cristophe. All of them were young and vibrant, Lonato’s features still bright and recognizable from some vault of time before Ashe even had eyes. His wife looked wise and beautiful, carefully brought to Lonato’s height by grace of him sitting in a high chair. Cristophe was little more than a baby, bright and apple-cheeked–nothing like the husky rascal who’d sometimes grab him from behind and hoist him onto his shoulders as a still-young Ashe would scream in surprise and laughter in equal measure.

It was warm and beautiful, just as they were in life. But something about it terrified him, bid him to leave the room whenever he was small and alone.

“What am I doing?” he voiced, shaking his head scoldingly at himself. He left the painting on the wall, walking with a quicker stride back outside to fix the storage shed’s hanging door.

-

Ashe wasn’t expecting a windfall as he walked the stone path down from the chapel, but he still opted for a large basket, one bulky enough that he needed to carry it in both arms. Better safe than sorry, after all. Besides, Yuri mentioned something about shopping afterward–it would be good to have the extra capacity.

“At this point, I don’t trust that sister of yours as far as I can throw her,” said Yuri, shaking his head. “I don’t know what she’s hiding, but it’s something. It’s really a forsaken day when I start considering asking the knights for help.”

“It is strange,” Ashe agreed. He always got the sense that Sister Maylis had a history, if only from the way she squeezed him on that day. He could feel that reach of care and empathy that can only come from someone with a grief-filled life.

Yuri sighed deeply. “All right,” he said. “What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“What’s eating you?” asked Yuri. “And don’t you dare say it’s nothing. Your face is an open book.”

“It really is nothing though,” Ashe said. He tried to give it some honest thought, but could find nothing–nothing within reach, anyway.

“If you’re worried about the kids, don’t,” said Yuri. Ashe felt an odd pitch in his stomach. That’s really what he should be worrying about now, wasn’t it? “I’m going to talk to a few people when I’m out shopping. Which is why I’m having you go back ahead of me when we’re done.”

“I understand,” Ashe said. Yuri let out another long sigh.

“If one nun can handle whatever Owen’s got, I think the two of us can do just as well,” said Yuri. He turned to Ashe. “So loosen up, won’t you?”

“I guess I am kind of tense today,” Ashe said with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.” Yet another sigh.

“Look. I said it once, I’ll say it again,” said Yuri. “If something happens to you, I’m not going to come running. You get hurt, that’s on you.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Ashe replied.

“I’m not–! You’re not worrying me,” Yuri said, just catching a note of agitation in his voice. “Though it’s annoying that you’re not seeming to take my advice to heart.”

“If I look like I’m spacing out, someone’s going to take advantage of me, and it’s probably going to be you,” said Ashe, with the even recitation of a schoolboy. He turned to meet Yuri’s eyes. “Right?” he asked. Yuri sighed again.

“You really aren’t scared of me at all, are you?” he asked.

“Not really, no,” said Ashe.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” said Ashe with a shrug. “Should I be?” He was expecting some churlish reply; all he got was a look that he could only describe as pitying. Yuri shook his head and turned away so he could tilt it forward into his palm.

“Sorry,” Ashe said. Even he was starting to pick up on how often he was apologizing. “I’m not trying to get on your nerves.” Yuri didn’t respond to that. “At least there’s no way I could be acting cute now.”

“Damn straight there isn’t,” Yuri muttered.

“Oh! Lamine’s slipper!” said Ashe suddenly, spotting the soft green leaves that belled out in three prongs. He trotted over, immediately dropping to his knees and setting aside the basket. “This’ll be really helpful.”

“Huh,” Yuri said, walking up to him. “This good for fevers or something?”

“No, actually!” Ashe said, pulling out a small, thin knife from his belt. “It doesn’t have any medicinal properties at all. But!” He turned to Yuri, who looked surprised at his sudden brightness. “It makes a lot of medicines taste less bitter.”

“I thought medicine was supposed to be bitter,” Yuri asked, a half-amused smirk finally tracing back to his face.

“I think it being taken is more important than it being bitter,” said Ashe, starting to make his way toward the base. “Don’t you?”

He could hear an exhale over him laced with a smile. “I wonder if this is just a knight thing,” Yuri mused. “Always trying to make life easier for the common folk.”

“I guess that’s it in a nutshell,” Ashe said. Despite himself, he felt a bit of a roil in his stomach, something between insult and shame. They were Lord Lonato’s words: Medicine wants to be taken--it didn’t choose to be bitter. Silly, he almost wanted to say, what would a plant even have to say about itself? He remembered when his sister found an especially tall stalk, screamed lets fight and began hitting him with it. Lonato scolded them both for it the rest of the excursion.

“I miss him,” Ashe said quietly. The blade was starting to stick in the stalk.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, turning back to begin sawing. That was the trouble with Lamine’s Slipper–all the starches kept growing throughout the year so by autumn the stems were tough to the point of being woody. He really should be using a serrated knife.

“What the hell were the knights doing yesterday?" Yuri said, suddenly looking over his shoulder. “I can’t imagine a clamor like that wouldn’t have at least alerted the night watch.”

He must be worried about the children, Ashe thought. He had gotten the sense before that Yuri had a special spot in his heart for children, and now he was almost certain. He had caught a glimpse of Yuri when he was gathering up the children for breakfast. One girl had his handkerchief in her hand, glaring daggers at him, but he was speaking to her in a way Ashe hadn’t seen before–wide-eyed and expressive, trying to encourage a smile. When she stuck her tongue out at him, he laughed with a hand across his lips.

Why didn’t Sister Maylis take that portrait down? The thought was a splinter, and only now did Ashe realize it was stuck under his skin. Why did he even think of that now? Maybe she didn’t care, some part of him reasoned. Maybe she was the one that did it.

The stem snapped.

The world flashed shut for a moment as Ashe felt the knife slip, felt it peel flesh before the hot needle of pain followed. “Ashe!” he could hear Yuri snap over his shoulder. “You–!” He only had a moment to look as the blood trickled down his palm before Yuri grabbed it from beneath, pulling it out from under his gaze.

I’m bleeding, Ashe thought, a little late in response to Yuri drawing two fingers over the wound, feeling a warm prickle rise through a well of pain. He inhaled briefly, a wistful smile replacing the sharp bite’s grimace. Can you imagine what Yuri would say if I said that out loud?

“What are you laughing about?” Yuri said with the barest attempt to hide the irritation in his voice. Ashe needed to swallow to stop his smile from deepening. “I’m never taking a client on an assignment again. Never. Not in a thousand lifetimes.”

“Why can’t I keep my mind on this?” Ashe asked.

“Now there’s a question for the ages,” Yuri scoffed, peering over his hand to inspect Ashe’s palm. “You’re off knife duty. Point me to the plant that need slicing, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Lord Lonato’s dead. Those children are still alive,” Ashe said, surprised he was still smiling. He felt Yuri’s arm stiffen, his poise freeze. “Why am I thinking that I’m losing time?”

Yuri let out a long, vocal exhale. “Because you paid through the nose to get a shot at this, that’s why,” he said.

“What does it even matter what I find?” Ashe said. He felt something slowly seep out of him despite the slice in his hand now being firmly knit. “Maybe he was tricked by the church, maybe not. Maybe I'll never understand why.”

He looked up at Yuri, who wore an expression that Ashe had only caught him with a couple of times: lips tight, brow as straight as the edge of a sword, but eyes sharp and alert. Stone-faced to hide his internal searching. Ashe wondered if Yuri knew how bright those eyes looked when they were alight with that curiosity, that hungry cleverness that Ashe found so captivating in him.

“Who would I even tell?” Ashe asked weakly. “Even I look over this town and think, ‘what if you had brought your knights here? Where are you when we need you?’” He laughed, this time bitter and dark. “I can’t even begrudge those who hate him.”

Yuri's eyes didn't leave his. “You love him,” Yuri said. “Isn’t that enough?”

Ashe had a reflex to correct him, but Yuri was right. It wasn’t in the past tense–Ashe did love Lord Lonato, here and now, even with his beloved father forever out of reach. But Ashe was a knight, a child of knights. That deeply engraved cover of gallant heroism was what brought him into the light. Even in these barren lands, where bread and kings can disappear like drops in barren earth, a legacy can keep a people alive when the boundaries between them and the veil are thinnest. He knew such sentiments smacked of naivety, even melodramatic vanity. But Goddess knows he crossed the desert to be closer to that bright tower.

So why, of all times, did those righteous spires feel farther away than before? Was it really Lord Lonato’s noble deeds that he wanted to preserve? He would always feel small next to those great tapestries and towering portraits of knightly history. But what Ashe wept for in the arms of Sister Maylis on that foggy day was that space at Lord Lonato’s feet, surrounded by a loving family, listening to his father read from that heavy old book, in words that Ashe gleed at beginning to understand. That look of surprise on his face when Ashe cooked for him on a tired day, how he looked at him with such warm pride upon eating the first spoonful of pease pudding, crying “what a clever son I have!” How warm his hand felt ruffling Ashe’s hair, showing him the constellations locked in the prism of Rowe’s ring, too cautious to wear and risk ruining, but always eager to show it to the children he loved so much.

“Thank you,” Ashe said suddenly, removing his hand from Yuri's, which seemed to twitch at the sudden loss. “I’m better now. Thank you.”

“You really think I’d let you keep playing around with a knife after that stunt?” Yuri asked. He looked concerned. It was enough to make Ashe laugh again.

“Really, I’m fine! Really,” he said with a teasing smile. “Even someone like you makes mistakes, don’t you?”

“You honestly think I’d fall for that?” Yuri asked. His expression, his eyes, were sharp and bright as ever. Ashe felt his face flush, that awful habit he always had of blushing at the slightest challenge. He quickly scooped the knife from the ground, moved back to the brush before him.

“It doesn’t look like it, but the best properties are close to the root,” he said, moving his blade down along the stalk. “I think someone with more experience should handle it.” He thought he could hear Yuri make some motion to speak, but he’d already knelt down and resumed cutting. It’s alright. I’ll be careful. He should have said out loud.

Only cut when you see the white, as Lonato would say. He did it with a kind of warble, the closest he’d ever come to singing. Could you even capture a moment like that in a painting? And even if Ashe made one for every precious memory, sang the tale of his father’s generous heart from sunup to sundown, it would do no justice. Lord Lonato was now beyond the shroud of death, and the march of time would only draw him further away. A life is worth more than the most precious jewel, and to save it a thousand times more.

He began to peel at the Lamine’s Slipper once again, ignoring Yuri as he stood above him, no doubt confused and concerned as Ashe often left him. Worrying Yuri. Wouldn’t that be something? Ah, he thought suddenly, this is just like something from The Tales of the Silver Maiden. The foolish knight errant who traded away the jewel of his father’s love for a visage carved in stone. And so too did that visage fall to erosion and the sands of time–if not the cleave of the ax of the aggrieved–for as anyone in Fearghus dares to remind themselves, vengeful ghosts are the only thing truly eternal.