“So, you're a man of few words because it's just your nature, huh? I first had the impression you were trying to stay distant from the rest of us.”

“Sorry about that. I didn't mean to give that impression.”

“It's no problem.” Royd waves his wet hand dismissively. “I won't force you to make small talk for the sake of it or anything. Go on, continue about your old man.”

“Well...” Erik tries to pick up where he left off. “Shortly before the mist showed up, my father and I had a discussion about my future. He said he was happy about my archery results, but he worries I lack ambition.”

“Oh, I get it.” The bulky man has an epiphany. “That's why you said you wanted to do something great without the help of your family's name.”

“Right.” Erik nods. “My father's obsessed with the Rocheford name, and I want to accomplish something great without relying on it. I figured coming out here was a good shot.”

“Frankly, that sounds rather short-sighted.” Royd's tone becomes a bit low as he voices his disapproval. “I can see where you're coming from, but this is the most high-risk option you could've chosen.”

“High-risk, high-reward.” The noble corrects his comrade. “You're right, it's incredibly short-sighted to come on such a dangerous mission just to prove a point. My motivations for coming here are shallow compared to those who have troubles of greater consequence, but I still want to try.”

“Shallow or not, what matters is that you have the conviction to stick to it.”

“I do.” Erik gives a confident nod. “I want this more than anything right now.”

“Good.” Royd leans his head back again, feeling like he had a successful pep talk. “By the way, that was an excellent shot back there today. Square in the back of the knee. Your one arrow shifted the tide of the entire fight.”

“Oh, that was nothing.” The archer suddenly dons a proud tone and triumphant smile. “I just needed him to stop moving his legs for a second. After that, it was an easy target.”

Royd is surprised at Erik's sudden shift in attitude, he can't help but stare at him, wide-eyed and slightly annoyed.

“Boy, you sure become cocky when the discussion is about archery...” The woodcutter comments.

Soon after, Royd and Erik return to their teammates, feeling refreshed and clean for the first time in days.

“I can't begin to describe how welcome that bath was.” Royd continues to sing the praises of the bath's comforting presence as he sits to join the others around the small bonfire. “Whoever's next can go.”

“I'll try not to take too long.” Atticus responds as he stands and walks to the back of the barracks, drying cloths in hand, with Zyra quietly following behind.

“Wait...” Royd, watching the two walk away, appears confused. “She's alright with this?”

“It was her idea.” Kellar reveals with a shrug.

“Huh.” The muscular man raises his brow in both surprise and intrigue. “Good for her.”

Atticus pulls the bathing platform curtains open to examine the tubs, and notices there's no curtain between them. He turns to Zyra with a sympathetic expression on his face.

“You can get in first. Just tell me when you've settled in.” He says, holding the curtain to the side.

“Okay.” The pyromancer answers with a small nod, and slowly crosses the cloth threshold.

The knight lets go of the curtain, letting it fall closed into a neutral state. After a pause, he starts to hear the faint rustling of clothes being removed. With nothing to look at besides the beige of the burlap in front of him, he casts his gaze down toward the ground. His stare, despite being directed at nothing in particular, is somewhat intense, as he rarely even blinks. He soon hears the sound of water, presumably the now fully-nude Zyra entering the tub. Audible, small splashes are heard, and then a pause. He lifts his head again, expecting the 'okay' to come in.

“I'm in.” Zyra announces.

Atticus pulls the curtains to the side again, and finds Zyra submerged to her chin in the water of her tub, and her clothes folded neatly and placed on the wooden floor. The slightly cloudy water prevents him from seeing the rest of her body; only her face and her shaggy, short auburn hair are visible. She's staring up at him with eyes that are a mixture of expectant and nervous. He softens his expression a lets out a tiny, almost indistinguishable sigh – one that's hard to extrapolate as either relief or disappointment.

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Not wanting to waste time on an awkward staredown, the knight closes the curtain behind him, walks to his tub, and begins undressing with his back facing the other one. Zyra, throwing away all semblance of politeness, proceeds to stare at him as he sheds his cotton clothing. She quietly admires his toned form, but soon becomes distracted by the amount of small scars scattered around his torso – about a dozen or so of varying lengths and angles, just on his back and sides alone. A noticeable burn scar on his left shoulder is particularly curious to her. Before she realizes, he also submerges himself into the water, and sits back to relax his tired body.

Silence befalls the two of them as they both quietly soak in the hot baths. Atticus has his head back against the edge of the tub and his arms resting along the lip, staring upward at the ceiling above, while Zyra is hunched forward, staring down at the surface of her cloudy water. The pyromancer can't help but dwell on the pitiable state she's found herself in: unable to take the initiative and start a conversation with the stoic knight despite having no trouble doing it before. On the contrary, he seems far more comfortable with the current situation than she does. Trying to ease away feelings of anxiety, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Slowly, she leans back and rests her head against the edge of the tub.

Atticus, hearing her shift in the water, turns his head to see her mimick his relaxed posture. Now her neck, shoulders, and bare, slender arms are visible, and he realizes this is the most skin he's seen her bare, as she's usually covered head to toe in her everyday outfit, which is just a university student's robes, cape, and hood. Her skin is quite fair, and realizing the rarity of seeing it, he unwittingly leers at her. Losing track of time in his fascination, he eventually looks up at her face to find her with a sly half-smile upon catching his gaze. He turns his face forward again, feeling guilty for his stares, but Zyra smiles confidently to herself.

Yet another moment of silence shrouds them, but now they're both finally comfortable in the hot baths meant to soothe, paying less anxious mind to the presence of the opposite sex.

“Zyra.” The knight suddenly speaks.

“Yes?” The mage responds instinctively, almost jumping with surprise.

“Are you really here just for pyromancy?” Atticus inquires, turning his head to look her in the eye.

“What do you mean?” Zyra responds, not sure of the intent of the question. “Here, in the mist?”

“Yes.” Atticus nods. “You mentioned that you don't want to disappoint your parents, but aren't there less-dangerous ways to accomplish that?”

“Probably.” The mage answers, looking down at the water again. “But my parents sacrificed a lot to send me to the university. My father sold his textiles shop to cover my tuition. He had been seeing fewer customers over the months, so it was inevitable anyway, but he decided to sell the property early for a higher price.”

“Does he still work?”

“Yeah.” Zyra nods lightly. “He relocated with the spare money, but it's in an area that has far less activity than before, and in a much smaller building. They're only barely scraping by right now. I have a younger sister who helps out, but there isn't much she can do. That's why I want to succeed, but it's hard because every time I think of my university, the sight of my struggling family flashes in my head, too. If I fail my second year, I'll have extra tuition to pay if I want to repeat it, and even then, if I fail it a second time, I'll be kicked out.”

“So you came here to force yourself to practice the hard way?” The knight cuts in, filling in the blanks for himself.

“More or less.” The pyromancer sadly admits. “It's a move out of sheer desperation, but if I squandered my education, I wouldn't be able to look at my parents' faces again.”

Atticus leans his head back again, staring upward with a furrowed brow. He reminisces on his own troubles, and feels a sense of empathy.

“I know how you feel,” he utters. “The feeling of disappointing people you love because you couldn't keep important promises, and having to live with the shame of your failure afterward.”

Zyra, intrigued by her companion's sudden self-reflection, leans to the side of her tub, clasping the rim with both hands to get as close to him as possible without standing or exiting the bath entirely.

“I saw you earlier.” She begins talking with intent. “When Kellar and Veros were talking about the dangers of traveling alone, I saw you thinking about their words. Before you joined us, you were set on traveling alone, right?”

“I was.” He answers with a nod, returning her gaze.

“Did you come here expecting to die?” Zyra drops a rather big question on him.

He's taken aback by the implication of it, and his faces twitches reflexively into an expression of irritation, but not at her. While it's true that he had been throwing himself face-first into danger since leaving Threcia, he would justify it by saying he's trying to find meaning in his life again, to accomplish something that can wash away the stench of his failures. However, sometimes he would wrestle with himself, and wonder if he was just tired of living at all.

“I don't know what goes on in your head.” The mage begins an encouraging lecture. “But now that you're a member of a team, you have people who trust and depend on you, including me. Okay? So don't go anywhere.”

The knight is shocked at the sight of her being so invested in his well-being despite only knowing him for a handful of days, but he is appreciative of her consideration.

“Okay.” Atticus nods, cracking a slight smile. “I'll stick around.”

“Good.” Zyra nods and smiles back. “Because I'll need a tour guide to show me around Threcia when all of this is done.”

“Still on that, huh?” He asks with a more upbeat tone.

“I'm not letting it go. You'll take me to Threcia, one way or the other.” The mage jokingly prods as she leans back in her tub again.

The two continue to enjoy their cathartic hot baths, making sure to savour the sensation, as it could be the last on their journey.