Ana turned over in the bed. The shape of her lover sleeping caused her to smile and she slowly rose from underneath the blankets. She tiptoed across the expanse and exited into the hallway. Donning her stained shirt, leather apron and boots.

She ventured into the forge through the kitchen and quickly reached for a shovel. Her arms protested as she scooped the ashes into the sack as she hastily turned away from the clouds of dust. Ana tied the bag and exited into the training yard.

With a grunt she heaved the massive sack over her shoulder and she carried it over a hill. Her muscles groaned but seemed to welcome the labor.

The scent of death filled her nostrils. A familiar scent which appeared to be growing closer with each step. Rays of sunlight escaped from beyond the walls and the gigantic shadow of the Citadel was cast onto Sanctuary. As she peered over the small hill, her stomach churned as bodies greeted her with their cold, lifeless eyes. Their rotting flesh seethed with magical energy which surged from one body to another like lightning. Frost clung to their skin and appeared to crush their bones further with each passing seconds. With each jolt, they twitch and turned about as if they still lived. Limbs were scattered about and appeared to claw at the ground in desperation. Articles of clothing were shredded into ribbons from the terrible blasts from the night before, leaving their frames exposed to the elements. Sharp incisors reminded her of the enemy.

She hastily heaved the bag filled to the brim with ashes and dumped the load over the mound of corpses. In vain, she appeared to be hiding the evidence, but in truth, she scorned the sight. The image had been burned into the abyss of her psyche and took root. It sprouted into a rising tree and flourished, nourished by the fresh nutrients of fear.

Ana covered her mouth then turned away. She darted back to the safety of her own home and shut out the outside world. With her back to the door, she panted heavily, slowly sliding against the surface to the floor.

Her eyes shot to Gelehrter as he entered. He wore a disheveled tunic, dark pantaloons and leather boots. They were a simple garb she picked for him and kept it at her house, yet on his person they seemed drab. A sigh of relief escaped her and she composed herself.

“Is something the matter?” He asked.

“E-er...no, nothing is wrong.” She stood upright and brushed herself off.

A mirror hung on the wall adjacent to him and she glimpsed their reflection. In his place, a man stood no taller than he. However, his snow white hair shone brilliantly despite the dim room. As he turned away and headed to one of the counters nearby, she attempted to contain her surprise. A pair of lapis lazuli eyes followed his movements as he readied a few dishes. Pale skin was wrapped around his frame.

Yet, as she compared the reflection to the truth, she found herself dumbfounded.

“You seem like you have seen a ghost.” As he addressed her, he shifted his gaze to the mirror to peer back at her. The image of the man before had vanished and was replaced with the true Gelehrter. She shook her head in reply.

“I...I think... I think I've been working too much.” Ana fed him a lie and he was sated.

“If you think so...then perhaps you should take a break. It is a healthy thing to do.” He answered and he focused then on his task. The image of the man before returned, but it focused onto her. His eyes seemed to beg for her attention and Ana was unable to spurn.

A knock from the door jolted her to her senses. She hastily headed for the entrance and extended a hand to the knob. As her hand tightened around the knob, an eerie sense of foreboding suddenly embraced her. A feeling of immense fear, an irrational terror which swept through her frame like a torrential typhoon. She felt helpless. Seconds seemed to pass like an eternity as she finally turned the knob and opened the door wide.

Ana blinked in surprise as an immaculate figure stood before her. Accalia's pale visage bore the expression of a woman seeking to damn anyone who faced her. Sapphire eyes drank in the image before her with a sense of disgust. A white gown flowed with her movements as she curtsied to her gingerly, the Royal Vizier greeting her with respect. Dignified to her very core.

Ana realized it was only manners that she was met with, nothing more.

“Excuse me, my dear. I have come on behalf of our Sanguine Overlord. You are aware of Gelehrter's evaluation, are you not?” Accalia's voice cooed to her, yet it bore the slightest hint of malice as if Ana were lesser than she.

“I am. He is here if you wish to see him.” Ana stepped aside dutifully. She smiled to Rena, who had been standing behind her silently. She was adorned with a simple dark gambeson, leather gloves, loose fitting pantaloons with boots that extended above her knees. Ana recognized the longsword and smiled, the tool she had created was still in use.

As the pair ventured into the room, Accalia focused onto him. He turned his head to her and feigned ignorance. Instantly he took note of her involvement and he glanced to Rena.

She seemed troubled, but he could not place why.

“I have come to take you to Gavilis. He is ready to give you one final meeting before he decides whether you are fit for duty.” She motioned for him to follow, but he interjected.

“The Royal Vizier performing an errand for our Overlord? I have done my research on your station and none of them require you to do anything but advise. Our Sanguine Overlord seems to have little use for you--”

“Do not speak to me in such a manner, worm. I am here under her request and nothing more. I will have the respect I am due.” She growled.

Ana stomached the exchange and yearned to leap to his aid.

“I will take his place while they are gone, don't worry. As of a few days ago, especially while we are conducting night raids, select Justicar will remain during the night and protect craftsman. There have been cases where vampires approached them in their sleep to turn them.” She explained while crossing her arms.

Gelehrter glanced over to his lover and a yearning took hold of him. Though they were but a few steps from one another, the intrusion felt unjustified. There was no warning.

“Perhaps...you had better get going.” Ana suggested.

“Aye...the sooner I have been cleared by Gavilis--”

“The sooner you can quit moping about like a ninny.” She giggled and shook her head. “Go on, get out of here.”

She shooed them out of her front door. While Accalia was turned away, she gently pressed her lips onto his cheek and watched him disappear into the depths of Sanctuary's market. Her shoulder sunk in defeat as she entered her home. In the midst of Rena, her guardian, the home of her late father appeared empty.

“Perhaps you can help me start the forge, Rena...” Ana motioned for the other woman to follow. She obliged and followed her into the smithy. Its usual scent of soot and grime tickled at her nostrils. The shelves, once covered with various weaponry, were nearly bare.

They labored for a time gathering the necessary fuel for the flames. Their silence was filled with tension, as one wished to confide in the other.

“I've...something ask.”

“Go ahead.” A spear of fire magic spiraled into the coals and Ana raised her hand to pump the bellows. Air was forced into the flames and they hungrily devoured the oxygen within. Her keen eyes and experienced required for additional fuel, her body reacting instantaneously.

“How is he? Has he been getting better?”

Her memory focused onto the visage in the mirror. She nodded hastily as she rose with a filled spade. The coals readily took to the flame and she gritted her teeth as her hand approached the flame too closely.

“He has been...the progress has been slow. It is a shame...I had hoped he would remain here a little longer.” She mused and Rena was taken aback.

“We need any and all Justicar for our operations. You cannot mean to keep him to yourself.”

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“At the end of the night, he is mine. I've given myself to him and he has given himself to me. We are partners, through and through. I am a little short with him at times and I am not a fighter, but I make his tools. I-I...I should have a say!” She growled and instead of a gaze filled with anger, she instead was met with sadness.

Rena, whom donned the mantle of Justicar years ago, stood before her not as a formidable giant, but as a mortal. A being who suffered immensely from simple words, a being who suffered from hunger and thirst. Dark eyes begged for her to stand down. The hues of understanding, which delved deeper into Rena's psyche, were filled with a yearning for Ana's obedience. Obedience which would allow Gelehrter to perform at a higher level than his current state. Free from the weight of her worry, her hardships, her agony. Silence pervaded between them for a spell before she shook her head and leaned against one of the counters. She crossed her arms, her intimidating presence returning.

“It is not so wrong for a lover to wish for her beloved to stay. At what cost, though? Would the lives of many be sacrificed for the whims of a craftsman who falls for one of their protectors? No one should be allowed to suffer such consequences.” Rena argued.

Ana turned to her to retort, but her gaze locked with another mirror. This reflective surface was caked with soot, oil, and in some areas, blood. A pair of sapphire eyes focused onto her from the abyss. Their frame was diluted by the contents sticking to the surface and as Ana discovered the man observing her, she nonchalantly retrieved the mirror. She hugged the surface to her chest and then strode to Rena, her emerald eyes locking with hers.

“...I've been seeing things. I don't know if its because he's come back from the Lower Sector...but I'm worried. I'm worried over my own sanity.” Ana turned the mirror over onto the counter as she spoke.

Rena raised an eyebrow.

“...I know of Ernald's spirit being housed within him.” She grimaced and shook her head in dismay. “Please, do not let others know I am seeing these things. I...I won't know what I would do if I lost Gelehrter to them or if they took me from my forge.”

The Justicar before her remained silent and seemed to contemplate the avenues on which this promise would venture.

“I...I know it is asking much. I cannot lose either of these things...they are the only aspects of my life worth fighting for.” Ana pleaded and she was met with a solemn nod.

Their promise was sealed with a silent agreement, though Rena's eyes surveyed her cautiously. “I'll agree to this. I...I just wish to know why you protect him so.”

“I love him.”

“But...”

“It is a love which cannot be broken with thousands of hammers. It cannot be made with even the hottest coals, or the most advanced forging techniques. I can melt metal and mold it into any shape I like, but it will always bend. Our love is unyielding as a contract and superior to any Blessed Star.” Her reason hissed with passion, yet her young heart expanded it beyond mortal understanding. “You cannot being to comprehend the willingness I have for throwing myself into the pits of the Lower Sector should he be there. I would climb the rising Citadel a thousands times over to see him again should death wrap him in its cold embrace.”

Rena glanced away nervously as the intensity of her aura threatened to engulf her.

“I-I...I'm sorry. I don't mean to be...so like papa. He was a man of few words and enjoyed his work, as do I. Your books have helped enlightened me to understand that life yields more than fashioned steel.” Ana's apology was followed with her retrieving a length of steel she had laid to rest previously.

The smith placed the metal into the heat of the forge and pulled down with the weight of her body, blaze bursting with life anew.

“I...see you've come on rough times.” She glanced to the near empty counters as Ana prepared her set of tools for the deed: calipers, her worn hammer, gloves and waterskins which threatened to burst.

“Aye, I have.” The master smith admitted. “Too many orders, not enough materials and too little time.”

Rena's usual manner of observation took over for a spell. Ana proceeded to work in the pace she had set over many years. An unseen rhythm played deep in her psyche, the hammer shaping the steel. With each passing moment, she surveyed her work as it went.

Using the calipers to safely handle the white hot metal, she turned it over expertly. Her eyes strained to spot every imperfection within her work.

She rested the metal into the flames once again. Her keen eye caught Rena studying her movements, mostly out of habit.

“I wish to ask you something.”

“E-Err...please, go ahead.”

“You're hoping to make something which would never break. Enchanted weapons are such a thing, but they come at a cost.” Rena shook her head in dismay. “The Soul Cube is used in its synthesis.”

“Aye, I know. Papa's ring allowed me to learn the technique, but I have yet to put it into practice. It would be a nice to practice something like that...even if it is just for a little while... Papa made many enchanted weapons and armor over his lifetime.” She hummed to herself as she attempted to gather her thoughts, reaching for a nearby set of calipers. “I've been wondering...”

“I've something to share, if you wish to listen.”

Ana's ears perked up.

“You are to expel any thoughts of affection toward him. You will jeopardize any mission with your presence in his mind, he will lose his nerve and they will use you to break him.” Rena grimaced as Ana answered with a quick glare.

“I know! I...I know.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“...I don't know.”

Rena appeared to contemplate for a few moments before she leaned against one of the counters.

Ana resumed her work absentmindedly.

* * *

Gelehrter's body numbed. The air within the Sanguine Overlord's living area were unnaturally bitter, even more so while he concentrated on the protective spell of the Blessed Star.

All around him the Council were gathered in secret for this hearing.

He awaited their approval. He hoped for it.

He yearned for the matter to resolve to his liking. Carefully he calculated and began to mull over the possibilities of charming every individual in the chamber.

Gavilis, Ovelia and Accalia included.

From his sitting position, he counted several individuals in close proximity. They boasted long coats around their bodies, engulfing their otherwise hulking masses. Some consisted of fat, others heaved neglected muscle.

Targon's crimson gaze however took him by surprise. Their reflective, glossy scarlet hues studied him. His ancient, decrepit skin seemed to be stretched over a mannequin. His hands rested on a simple black cane. Each of his fingers bore a ring, many of them similar to one another. Metallic wings outstretched brilliantly, they appeared to resemble his House. However, upon a closer inspection, he glimpsed a few tiny details: the absence of Sanctuary's Holy Cross. The compass which all of Sanctuary resembled.

Several of the Council members he had forgotten over the years, or paid no attention to, observed him intently.

His eyes darted to the familiar painting on the wall. Gelehrter attempted to contain his shock when he drank in the image of Ernald once more.

“We've a few questions to ask of you, Gelehrter.” One of the nobles near Targon finally spoke after the spell of silence.

He waited anxiously.

“You've been to the Lower Sector and returned. Are you...alright?”One of the other nobles asked feverishly. Their gazes shifted to him out of annoyance, but then they too shared his sentiment.

Within the darkest pits of his psyche, his focus had shifted. No longer would Sanctuary bind him to Her will, but instead guide him. Hierarchy mattered little to him, as he felt the weight of the cosmos rest on his shoulders, a weight he gleefully bore. Yet, on the surface, he wore the mask of the Justicar Gelehrter. As his dark eyes shifted to the coffee table ahead of him, he rested his palms against one another. He placed his index fingers against one another, curling them as he did so.

Gavilis and Ovelia raised an eyebrow slightly at the signal.

Accalia's senses however fell dully on the trap and she glossed it over.

“I...have been troubled. I am a Justicar, my blade and magic are mine to wield for the will of Sanctuary.” Gelehrter raised his head slightly to stare blankly ahead as he spoke. “I am unable to help my comrades who routinely throw their lives in harm's way to protect those who wouldn't dare--”

“You will mind your tongue, boy!” Another noble to his right spat.

“Boy or not, I have survived the Lower Sector. When Rena and Arden returned, did you not treat them with the same disrespect? I am a Justicar. You will allow me to serve.” His statement fell unto them like a command from the Overlord herself.

“Justicar or not, we are the Council. The Overlord has the final say, but we are the ones whom debate and fund your operation.” Targon tapped his fingers against the wooden surface of his cane and his decrepit skin seemed to writhe under the simple movement. “You are paid just like the Templarate, who serve as Sanctuary's defense. You are Sanctuary's dagger, but not her spear. I will remind many Justicar of this one day, but you are our knife in the dark. We ask you to perform many strange duties such as espionage, theft, sabotage, murder...you take your pick. A Justicar may wear Sanctuary's Blessed Star, but we are the ones who give you purpose.”

Targon's lips parted and Gelehrter contained his surprise of the elongated incisors.

“Perhaps I have said too much.” The old noble wheezed and the others around him murmured uncertainly. “Though...you are arguing for your case to serve. If you are well enough to put up a fight with words, you are well enough to swing a sword.”

Gavilis winced.

“S-Sir...you would let him off so easily?”

“I have lived too long to allow for all this dawdling. We are at war with ourselves, whether we drink blood or otherwise. If we are to fight then we must utilize every blade.” Targon's eyes flashed with a hint of malice.