A gavel rings out inside the Assembly, as Reigan looked onwards to the center with tired eyes. The seats that surrounded the concave filled to the brim, people lining along the wall of the building, standing to witness the trial of the Warding Bloodhound Clan, as Ruben stood as its representative as the Clan Master. A Master with a seat on the Assembly that was now accused on behalf of his people for being traitors.

Or so that was how Joran imagined it happening, as he watched the truck nearing Korhal, the residential districts coming into view, contrasting the flat farmlands giving a brief reprieve before Joran felt reality settle back on his shoulders. The soldiers had for the most part been reinvigorated by Drekor, who was singing alongside a handful of them as the rest shared relieved grins or laughing heartily in the night. To Joran, he didn’t sober from the incident; or rather, he refused to.

A light tap on his shoulder brought his right eye, to Drekor’s worry-filled eyes as he comforted Joran, “No person can shoulder a loss alone. It’s good to be steeped in the loss, but don’t lose yourself in it as well.”

Joran shook his head, then resting his head back on the frame of the canopy, long used to the road now, “I realize that, but… I can’t really stop thinking about it.”

Drekor cracked a smirk and patted his friend’s shoulder, “Neither can I, Joran. But we will have our chance at dealing our hands against the Beasts again. Especially if that was just the beginning.”

Joran looked back on the road they had come from, before gingerly lifting a hand up to his left eye, still wrapped in bandages that Drekor administered to him, and tried to at least start humming along the singing of the soldiers as they made their way into Korhal. At one point, before they had entered Crown City, Joran began to join in as well.

Moving past the Precinct inside the tightly wound-up residential district again sobered Joran however, as he slowly fell silent, his eyes tracking the building as they drove by, towards a military base near Argo’s residence within Crown City. He could see swathes of people standing in front of the main building in apparent uproar, others working to deface the three surrounding red pillars. He could see bottles being thrown at the windows and doors of the Precinct proper, shattering or falling short.

As the Precinct and protestors disappeared from view, Joran’s gaze snapped away as he stared into space, thinking to himself. There was little he could do to stop the Beasts other than join the people and fight alongside them. But at the very least he could help bring about retribution to those that had abetted the Beasts. His face darkened as he remembered Joseph. Hallson. All of them, even Liam.

The soldiers had quieted as they reached the base, a handful of Suekamikou soldiers circling the vehicle as a familiar face stepped forward and addressed Joran directly.

“… Are you all that remains of the garrison, Joker?” Dorgan’s eyes were filled with dread and desperate hope, as Joran and Drekor looked at each other.

“Sentinalus has fallen,” Was Joran’s curt reply.

The soldiers on the truck had turned ashen while Dorgan’s soldiers were beginning to clamor before being silenced by her, “Well. At the very least those were the only casualties. I didn’t see the merchants and traders myself, but reports say that they were fully evacuated.”

Joran felt his eyes grow wet with tears as he finally gulped the breath he had been holding, “… I’m glad.”

He looked around briefly and could see the rest of his comrades in the truck were holding a similar breath, now patting each other’s shoulders, and letting tears roll down their face. Drekor nodded sternly, a warm smile as he rallied them before turning serious again and faced Dorgan.

“Commander. Tend to these men and women, the Crown Prince and Joker shall take their leave to the Sovereign Palace.”

Dorgan bowed formally, nodding towards the soldiers circling the truck and gesturing the two friends to follow her. As people began to unload out of the truck and be brought to the infirmary on the base, Dorgan led Drekor and Joran to her own grey jeep that was smaller than any others Joran had been in. Once inside, they began to make their way through the city where Joran could see people openly rioting on the streets, protests against the Bloodhounds, some defending them. The tension in the air exceeded what Joran felt in his entire time in Sentinalus.

Dorgan looked over to him in the backseat and smiled bitterly, “To be honest, I almost wish I was there.”

“You don’t,” This was the first time Joran could hear Drekor’s sullen feelings on what happened, now that he was away from the soldiers they were with, “It was over almost as fast as it started. We opened the gate to the harbor to give the non-military people a chance to leave. I’m glad we stalled the Beasts long enough for that... I’m also glad we’re not on the coast anymore.”

A chill went through Joran’s spine as he viscerally remembered the Serpent’s torso batter the wall as Drekor explained some of what they saw.

He shook his head fiercely, and asked the question on his mind, “Have these riots been common?”

“No, they just started yesterday. The Realm Monarch had kept the investigation under wraps until they had evidence and proof of their collusion with Beasts, securing witnesses from Cael. Others that were like that boy we saw. He announced that the trial will be tomorrow, where Ruben will stand to answer for what the Clan has done. But now… it’s almost getting out of hand.”

As she says that, a fire was let loose on a house that they drove by as a few people forced out a middle-aged man of the house, throwing him into the ground before outright battering him with their fists. It took mere moments before the house had become a blaze, an orange light basking the grey night, as people began to holler in the newfound hysteria and crowd around the Heca.

“… It just might be, now,” Drekor lamented, as they rounded a corner away from the scene, and headed on the road leading straight towards the Sovereign Palace, its golden rings scaling upward as regal as always.

Joran glanced towards the skyscrapers that were around them, seeing people skulking about, some screaming and pointing at the jeep as it passed by, “… Can Cael not be reinstated to replace Heca, yet?”

“That will depend on tomorrow. If Idaten can prove to the Assembly that Heca is guilty, then they will move forward with the changes necessary.”

The crowds began to thin out as more and more guards from the Palace began to come into view, pacifying and clearing out the area of people before it got too out of hand. Although the crowds were annoyed at being redirected, their qualms were with Heca, not Idaten, so they obliged.

Joran inquired, “So what kinds of changes?”

The two Idatens shrugged and Drekor replied astutely, “We’ll have to ask my Father.”

The trio embarked into the Palace after they left the car on the side of the now desolate road, heading in. Of those that were inside, many were apparently relieved at the duo’s arrival, some cheering Drekor and Joran back. Some, however, were mortified at Joran’s wrapped up head. Many of the attendants especially gasped and even apologized to him for his ill fortune. Apologies that fell on deaf, numb ears. Joran did not have any of their apologies and shook his head each time, waving them off as if he was just returning on a casual day.

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Ascending the levels of the Palace, he eventually came to his chambers, where he peeked in to see it was properly organized and cleaned. His attendant nowhere to be found as of yet.

Callahan…

After his momentary detour, he caught up with Drekor and Dorgan as they made the rest of the way to the Throne Hall, where they could see Reigan not sitting, but pacing back and forth until he heard the doors open. He frantically shifted his gaze over to see the trio, his eyes landing on Drekor before he rushed instantly to them, holding his son in his embrace as his voice trembled in a way Joran never heard before.

“Drekor… I’m so glad you’re back safe.”

Drekor chuckled and reciprocated the hug, giving his father a pat on the back, “Dad… I’m fine, please. We have people here.”

Reigan pulled away from the hug, gripping both of Drekor’s shoulders as he sternly shook his head, boring his eyes right into Drekor’s, “No. There is nothing in this world more important to me than you and your brother, son. Not since your mother passed away. When I heard that Sentinalus had been attacked and the silence thereafter, I… I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t help but assume the worst.”

“…” Joran looked at Reigan and gave a curt bow, closing his right eye shut, “Forgive me for being careless, Realm Monarch.”

Silence pervaded the room, as dread filled Joran’s chest. But he maintained his bow, his brows furrowed as he endured the quiet, until he heard Reigan below him, on his knees looking up at Joran.

“And to say nothing of you, Joran. Is… Is your eye okay?”

Drekor nodded, “A scar that’ll teach him not to be so careless, to be sure. But he should be okay!”

Joran’s eyes wavered as he looked at the Realm Monarch below him, for the first time seeing him warmly smile the same way he had to Drekor, to him. Now it was too much for Joran to bear. He began to sniffle into a sob, collapsing onto the ground.

“… I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t…. C-couldn’t be better… I couldn’t save anyone… I’m sorry,” Joran repeatedly apologized as he slowly balled himself, letting his emotions out, not caring for the Throne Hall, not caring for anything other than the raw relief, sorrow, and guilt he bore not just from the battle, but from the Sanctuary, everything that had happened since he had gone to Ardenta, from his powerlessness time and time again.

The release he felt was cathartic, as Drekor embraced him, soothing him, “Joran, one person can’t do everything, no matter how powerful they are, no matter how influential they are. But the desire to do as much as you can, no matter what, is what makes one a hero. To dash forward and join others in the fray, to proffer optimism where there is none. You are what everyone in this Realm aspires to be. And I’m proud to call you my friend.”

Joran cries intensified at each sincere praise Drekor lent to him, wailing as he clutched Drekor, now almost babbling, “Y-… You had to save me from the Walkers… I didn’t do anything..”

Reigan laughed heartily and patted Joran’s back as he straightened himself up again, “Nonsense! You have proven to be invaluable to aiding the Metropolis in her defense! Your courage and stubbornness not to yield to any of the leaders in the Assembly? Your determination and resolve to do whatever is necessary, finding the Bloodhounds’ treachery? There isn’t much else anyone could ask of you.”

Joran’s wails continued as he destressed his emotions, letting them run dry from him for several minutes, until they finally faded. He slouched onto the ground, looking up at the three looking down at him. His bandage was sopping wet now, and he could feel the dried salty streaks down his face and now onto his sides as he smiled faintly, holding his hand out for Drekor to grab and pull him up.

“Sor-… Thank you, to you two. And you as well Dorgan,” Joran gently nodded his head at the commander, whose eyes were wide in confusion.

“Me as well?”

“Yes. If Drekor proclaims me as a hero, then you and every soldier that’s fought against the Beasts are legends by comparison. So thank you. For what you do for the Realm,” Joran gave a deep bow towards her, who was now profusely shaking her head, until Reigan waved her off coyly.

Dorgan looked back and forth for a moment before she nodded her head, a complicated smile on her face as she took a bow and left. Those that remained were the trio, and the guards who still stood stoically, though some no doubt were moved by the commotion. Reigan waved the boys over as he sat down in his throne, his eyes hardened again, back to the ordeal.

“As much as I wish that was the end of our struggles, it is not. I’m sure you have seen the riots and protests in the city.”

Drekor cleared his throat as he assumed his usual formal prose, “You are right. Commander Dorgan informed us that the trial is to be tomorrow, as well.”

He nodded sternly, “The plan for Idaten is to send in the witnesses we have now, to testify. But I doubt they will take the sentencing without a fight. I expect Ruben to take at least a calculated risk.”

Joran raised an eyebrow, now much calmer, and steeling himself for the newfound coming battle, “Like what?”

Once more, an Idaten shrugs, as Reigan responded frankly, “Too many possibilities, so we will have to see. For now, take your leave, and prepare as the Joker for the Assembly.”

Joran nodded, understanding the double entendre. On the one hand, Reigan meant to prepare his Assemblage and mentally be ready to stand with the Major Families in the Assembly. On the other, he means for Joran to act as a genuine wild card for the proceedings, to step in as someone who’s now fought Beasts several times, and come face to face with death.

The audience was adjourned, a guard dispatched to collect Hando from the Iris Plaza, and Joran made his way back to his chambers, where he could now see Callahan worriedly study Joran as he stood in the hall outside, with fresh bandages and alcohol in hand. No doubt having heard of Joran’s return and his injuries from the other attendants before coming with the supplies necessary for Joran. For his master and friend. Joran gave a faint smile, and gestured for them to both enter the chambers, where they sat down, Joran now expectantly waiting for Hando as Callahan began to tend to his face.

His obvious fretting and darting eyes caused Joran to chuckle to himself as he waved his friend’s worries away, “Callahan, please. I’m okay.”

“Master Joran… Are you really okay?”

Joran paused and looked off into space, now reflecting on everything that’s happened with a fresh mind, sighing as he lamented the suffering that was endured by him and those around him. But he looked back at his attendant, his friend, and smiled as he pat his back.

“I will be. Take off this bandage, I haven’t seen how bad it actually is.”

Callahan started unwrapping the soaked and tarnished bandage, asking about what happened in the last week and a half, since he had left for Ardenta. The Basilisk, the Bloodhounds, Sentinalus. Saum. He notably omitted any mentions of the Siren to anyone beyond Drekor, and could only hope Drekor kept his meeting with her a secret for the time being.

Joran had started recounting the assault on Sentinalus when the bandages were fully off, and he could feel pressure alleviated from his head, his left eye closed for the moment as he was unsure as to whether he could open it or not, if he trusted that he could or not. Callahan gave him a brief lookover before he reached for a hand mirror, offering it to Joran. When Joran picked it up, he expected his face to be marred, but surprised to see only two claw marks going from his forehead down to just below his left eye, and it was scarring already. He slowly opened his left eye, and realized he could still see out of it, much to his relief.

He chuckled to himself and handed the mirror back to Callahan, “Well. It’s much better than what I thought it was going to be.”

“The way it was wrapped up and what I heard the others saying, I thought your eye was beyond any hope of being fixed…” Callahan took a deep breath as he calmed down, and started dabbing alcohol on the wound, stinging Joran, but not as much as before.

“At the very least, I won’t have to get used to fighting with just one eye… Hey, the scar will be cool, right?” Joran jested with Callahan for a moment, and let him start wrapping his head in clean white wraps.

Callahan chuckled at the light joke, his nervous energy vaporizing along with it, bantering right back, “I don’t know if ‘cool’ is what I’d go for. Battle scars aren’t exactly known for being in style, you know.”

Joran laughed as he let the wraps go around, darkening his left eye’s view.

He reached over from his seat to the bed, feeling the sheets, the smoothness of it, their welcoming softness as he pondered, “I thought I appreciated life for what it was. But turns out there was much more I didn’t think about.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

Joran thought back to the beach, the grit in his hands before he sunk into the lake of the Sanctuary for the last time, and he smiled bitterly, “The answer was obviously to appreciate the beauty of life. But I only appreciated nature, and the world. I would’ve lived my life to be nothing, had I not been thrusted here. But now I know better.”

Joran looked away from the bed, and back to his friend as he was sticking the last of the wraps on, and gave a warm smile, “At the very least, because of this ‘curse’, I got to experience more of the world than I thought I ever would. I got to venture with my old teacher, meet you. Reunite with my best friend, Drekor.

“There have been many things I can regret, but I can count my fortunes alongside them as well.”

Callahan didn’t fully understand what Joran was reminiscing, but nodded and gave a faint smile as they heard a rap on the door. Both of them were able to wager a guess as Joran asked them to come in. Hando stepped in, his somewhat tired eyes lazily scanning the room until he settled his gaze on Joran and Callahan. And then he saw the bandages.

“… WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!”

Joran gave Callahan a knowing smile and they began to settle Hando down so Joran could recount the events that have transformed the world, both for everyone and for Joran personally. And then to prepare for tomorrow, where the young man’s destiny will forever be weaved into the threads of this world.