Michael kicked a rock with enough force to send it skittering across the dirt. The action was instinctive, a brief flare of frustration breaking through his usual self-control. They’d been combing through the Oxvein’s sprawling woods for days, fruitless in their efforts. The spike of excitement he’d felt when they first set out had long since evaporated, leaving behind a stagnant impatience that gnawed at him more with each passing hour.

All around him, the forest seemed to mock him. Gnarled roots twisted beneath his boots, and towering trees loomed overhead, blotting out the sky. The scenery never changed. Trees, more trees, and still bigger trees, an endless expanse of foliage that turned every search into a maddening loop. He felt like a starving dog scrounging through a forest with no prey, chasing shadows of a beast he wasn't even sure was still here.

The chosen few, he thought, that’s what they’d been called by Lord Kenneth during their departure from Astra. A hand-picked group sent to hunt down an oathbreaker, as if the title alone made the task special. Well, he guessed the task was a little special. Michael had imagined glory, imagined being part of a story that would become legend, tasked with killing an oathbreaker as notoriously dangerous as this one was something he could boast about for the rest of his days.

But this… this endless wandering through tangled woods? It was pathetic. With a territory this vast, the oathbreaker could’ve sprinted past them days ago and left a trail of dead in its wake, and they’d still be stumbling in circles, none the wiser.

“Damn it,” he spat, voice low and tight with frustration. “Five fucking days in this forest, and not a single trace. We’ll be wandering until dawn at this rate. And once the sun is up we'll be on the sixth, then seventh, fucking next month will be around by the time we even find the oathbreaker's footprints.” He glanced up at the moon, pale and unblinking, hovering low in the sky, it was still early in the night. “Should’ve brought a bow with me, gone hunting instead. I saw better game these past nights than whatever it is we’re chasing.”

Raid glanced sideways at him. “We do have a bow. Anna's a slingshot, remember?”

“Yeah, but I meant my own bow. Doesn’t feel right to use someone else’s weapon.”

“Oh? You have some decency left in you?”

“Do you even know how to shoot a bow?” Claire chimed in, brushing a stray leaf from her shoulder.

Michael hesitated, then shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “No… But it can't be that hard.”

“It’s harder than you think.” Owen’s voice came from behind him, dry and clipped. “I tried it once. You wouldn’t hit a deer if it stood right in front of you.”

Michael snorted. “Maybe you’re just terrible at it.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone talking out of his ass,” Owen retorted, glaring.

“Enough.” Nova stepped in between them, her gaze flickering like flint against stone. “We don’t have time for this. We need to keep moving. There’s too much ground to cover, and arguing doesn’t make it shrink."

“We weren’t arguing,” Owen said with disgust, as if the mere thought of expending that much effort on Michael’s nonsense repulsed him.

"Well it's certainly starting to sound like it. You two have been biting one another for the last two hours, quit it," Nova scolded. "Just thinking about the hours we got left wandering already gives me the ick, I don't want you two adding on to it. Having only three teams searching an area this large is like building a single fortlet on the Kundis border and hoping it would stop bandits.”

“Exactly my point,” Michael almost yelled, his temper flaring albeit momentarily. “It doesn’t matter if we keep moving, or don't. We could sit here all night, build a campfire, roast some boar for all the gods' care, and it’d make no difference. We’d get the same result.”

“Idiot,” Claire responded. “Why would we make a campfire when we’re not even allowed torches to light our way? Might as well send the oathbreaker an invitation with directions on where to avoid us.”

“We don’t even know if it’s still here. Took us what? Like a week to get here? Another solid half searching thus far? Crawling around this place. Remember what that lordling back in Astra said? Reports of the oathbreaker already on our side of the border before we even left the Kes-Northern.”

Everyone else glanced at Nova, curious whether she had anything to say about Michael’s inconsiderate tongue, having insulted Lord Kenneth, an affront that could easily be viewed as a slight against nobility as a whole, depending on her mood. However, she didn’t care in the slightest, she was in fact far more irritated by their expectant stares than by Michael’s ongoing nonsense. Fixing them with a hostile glare, Nova watched as their gazes quickly shifted elsewhere.

“It wasn’t a report, just an assumption,” Owen corrected. “The last confirmed sighting was of it entering the Snowset from the Indis. It could still be here, somewhere. Takes time to cross those mountains, If that’s even possible.” He gestured north, where the horizon was dominated end to end by a jagged line of peaks, serrated and unforgiving against the sky. A natural stone wall, massive and unbreachable, larger and higher than anything that could possibly be built by human hands.

“The oathbreaker can use aura, it shouldn't be that difficult. A little body enhancement and it'll cross those mountains in days,” Michael argued. “It could be anywhere by now, even in Rose proper, having left the Oxvein before we even arrived.”

“I don’t see why the oathbreaker would be in such a rush,” Raid remarked. “You talk as if it's running scared.”

“I understand your frustration Michael, and I believe you’re not the only one,” Nova said. “But I’m afraid we have to keep moving. It’s the only thing we can do right now.”

“When I find this Henrietta, I’ll snap its neck,” Michael said, gripping the air as if choking something. “Then I’ll honor my forefathers at my ancestral grave when I return home. The achievement would be a good addition to my lineage. My family would be proud.”

“I thought this was a team effort?” Anna tilted her head, looking slightly confused. “Are we just going to let Michael duel the thing while we watch then?”

“Of course not, he’s being delusional,” Nova answered. “Leave him be. I can only listen to so much of this before my ears start bleeding.”

“Quit acting like a child,” Claire said disapprovingly. “You’ve been ranting the whole way here about all the different ways you’ll kill it. We’re sick of it Michael. Do you want to die that badly? Because if you charge in alone, that’s exactly what’ll happen. It’s dangerous.”

“What’s that?” Michael’s voice turned mocking. “Do I hear the sound of a coward speaking?”

“No,” Claire retorted, eyes hardening. “I hear the sounds of a fool. You’re like a mutt barking at its own shadow, riling yourself up over nothing.” Growing too tired to argue, she began slowly turning away.

“Hey! Art piece! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”

“Leaving you. I want some quiet. At this point, we don’t even need a fire, your voice alone is enough to scare it off. Congrats, you’ve made Owen’s role pointless. Your idiotic yelling is enough for the other teams and the oathbreaker to locate us.”

“Y-you!” Michael bristled, hand twitching at his side. “Get back here! I want a word with you!” Taking a step forward, chasing after Claire.

“Looks like we'll be stuck here a little while longer with everyone scattering about,” Owen murmured, watching Claire’s and Michael's retreating form. He smirked, glancing sideways at Raid. “If those two ever get married, how much of a house would still be standing?”

“House?” Raid scoffed. “They’d be lucky to have a roof by the end of the first week. The builders would love them. The real question is, how many builders and their extended families can those two feed if our loveable pair of house wreaks get married?"

Owen pondered the question for a few long moments. "Maybe three builders?" Answering earnestly.

"Did you actually seriously consider the question?" Raid laughed.

“Umm, if you guys don’t mind, I’d like to quickly check on Charlie. He looks like he’s nodding off over there,” Anna murmured, concern threading through her voice as she gestured toward a large tree. Leaning against its rough bark, Charlie’s head kept bobbing as if it couldn’t quite decide whether to stay up or surrender to sleep.

“Seems like he didn’t get much rest last night,” Owen remarked, brow furrowing. “Already dozing when we’ve only stopped for a bit… Here, let me come with you.”

Raid and Nova stood side by side, watching Anna and Owen disappear into the distances. For a long moment, they lingered in companionable silence, merely observing. The glimmer of stars peeked through the canopy gaps, muted conversations, the scent of bark and molding wood drifting on the faint wind, with an edge of sweet decay and damp soil in consideration of autumn. But Raid’s focus kept on drifting to the twin blades strapped to Nova’s sides. He couldn’t quite ignore them. The polished scabbards seemed to gleam at him despite the night, each embossed with an emblem, a pigeon perched atop a fox. Its significance would be lost on everyone else, but to him, and in extension, Marcus, the gallant fox meant volumes.

He hesitated, fingers twitching as if wanting to reach out. Before he could speak, Nova’s gaze nudged toward him, steel-brown eyes, unwavering. “I’m fine, Raid,” she said quietly, each word a wall bricked between them. Her voice, firm, left no room for him to push further unless he intended to break through the boundaries she had so staunchly drawn. Reluctantly, he nodded, deciding to take her words at face value and withdraw, choosing to respect her unspoken command, though they still brought him a sense of closure.

“I’ve had these for a while now,” she continued, her tone softening just a fraction, “but you’re only hinting now?”

“I wasn’t sure.” He shifted his weight, uneasiness flickering within his eyes. “You said you’d never use them, so I thought… maybe something’s changed. Should I take this as a good sign?”

“It’s just a pair of steel. Nothing more to it.”

“Any other pair would do just as well then?”

“Not these,” she murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “These are better.”

“And the short sword?” He gestured toward the blade hanging behind her hip, smaller and sleeker than any he's seen. “I’ve never seen you use one until recently. You’ve been sneaking off to practice with it. Does your artform even allow for that?”

Nova arched an eyebrow, an amused glint breaking through her guarded expression. “I see someone’s been paying attention. So, you've finally decided to confess your crimes? You’re not very good at hiding your curiosity you know, or yourself in that matter.”

“I wasn’t hiding. Just… wondering. It just so happens that I stumble upon your training more often than not.”

“My, what coincidence. It's almost as if your stumbling is intentional. And is it so strange that I use a short sword now? You know these are my mother's blades, and the fact we use the same artform.”

“The thought did cross my mind when they were first shown to me, but after years of seeing you just use the slim. I assumed the short was purely for emergencies. I guess my assumption is wrong then. Judging by your swordplay, it’s different now, odd, the way I see it. Is this because of the Oathbreaker?”

She exhaled slowly, as if weighing how much to reveal. “I’m practicing some of my classes, the ones I couldn’t use until now. While also refining my other ones to refit this change. And this current style of mine only seems odd to you because you’re used to the old me.”

“With a short sword?” He asked, clearly perplexed.

“Yes, my style actually requires one. I can see what you’re about to ask. Then why didn’t I use one before? Right?”

Raid nodded. “Exactly. Remember, you never talk about your artform. And what I do know I had to pry off you, and even then only the few techniques you use the most often. It would be nice if you were to mention this and that on your own once in a while."

“Because it’s common courtesy not to ask, or share? Do you forget basic manners?” she reminded him, voice firm. “We classify ourselves for a reason, so others know what we do without prying into the specifics of our flow. Only those who share the same artform discuss it in detail.”

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“I get that. But still, we work together, kinda, you know? If we don’t know each other’s limits, how can we fight together effectively, watch each other's backs? Remember that battle? There were a few times our plan wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t known your skills. Like the Flare, for example.”

“I don't remember us planning anything. We more, act on the fly. And to be fair, you haven’t explained yours very well either.”

“What’s there to explain? Most of mine are stances.”

“Well, my artform requires two swords. Now you know," a faint edge to her voice. "I can’t access some of my classes without both. As for why I’m choosing to use them now, of all times… that’s something I’d rather not talk about.”

“That’s fine,” Raid said softly, backing off with a small nod. “I’ll be here when you’re happy to share. But, those string things? The way you handled them, it’s part of one of your classes, isn’t it?”

Her gaze lingered on him, measuring. “You saw that too, huh? Then yes, they are. I’m still getting familiar with it, but… I don’t know. I’m not very good at it yet.”

“Give it time. Takes years to master an artform for a reason.”

“I guess that’s true.” Nova scanned the surrounding trees suspiciously, seeing nothing but darkness, twisted roots and dense undergrowth. No signs of alarm, even with her moments of caution. She turned back to Raid, voice low. “Do you think we’ll find it?”

“What? The oathbreaker? Are you having doubts yourself?”

“Why? Do you think otherwise?" Nova’s gaze turned distant. “Honestly, I hope we don’t.”

“Are you serious?” Raid asked, puzzled. “Regardless of how dangerous she is, we just have to be careful. I'm sure we can kill her. This operation serves a good cause.”

“A good cause…” Nova murmured thoughtfully. “The oathbreaker swore the Final. Breaking it harmed no one but its family’s and clan’s honor. For oathbreakers like it, I’m on the side of outcasting if it's so dangerous.”

“Where is this coming from? You also agreed to its death when we left Astra.”

“And I still do for the most part. But I’ve just been thinking. The journey here has allowed me to get my head on straight, you know, wander my mind a little. Exploring. Now I might still support its death if we weren’t the ones carrying it out. But right now? I’m worried it’s too dangerous to pursue, to justify taking a risk like this for something as intangible as honor.”

“Intangible?” Raid chortled, stepping closer. “Honor is the heaviest of the virtues. Isn’t it said that death is lighter than dishonor? And the oathbreaker has killed many now.”

“After the fact. If it had killed with intent from the beginning, I’d agree with its extermination. But we simply don’t know for sure. Everything we've been told so far sounds like self-defense to me.”

“Careful now." His voice dropped to a warning thrum. "You’re defending an oathbreaker. Others would not tolerate this.”

“Which is why I’m speaking to you.” Nova’s eyes softened. “Because despite our clear prejudice, we can still talk and hypothetically defend things we both don't agree with. Honor? It’s just a prettier word for pride. The fact it has reached a point that it's worth more than a person's life is heresy I say."

“Hypocritical, don’t you think?” Raid said, tone biting. “We’re knights. We follow honor, live by it, respect it by choice. I’ve seen you hold it in the highest esteem, time and again, even recently in fact. When did this change?”

“I don’t know. Just confused with myself. Maybe it hasn't changed. What can I say? I am a hypocrite. I might say honor isn’t worth a life, and then kill someone over it tomorrow. Who knows?”

“You’re overthinking.”

"Perhaps.” Nova sighed, head tilting. “But what is honor anyway? Everyone throws the word around, but it means something different to each person, that’s a fact. Even among knights, no two have the same code, similar yes but not same. We may have all sworn by honor when we receive our tags but it's not like the rules are written down anywhere. One day, we might even meet a knight who genuinely believes that the suffering of innocents is righteous. Who uses twisted logic and reasons to justify it. Who are we to judge? Wouldn’t his justification be as valid as ours? We just happen to kill a different sort of people.”

“Why does it have to be written down? The conduct of former knights before us set the example. That’s how we discern right from wrong and determine whose honor is deemed true, or more so over others. There may be slight differences in interpretation, but fundamentally it’s all the same.”

“Is that really the case? Would you say those who have fulfilled their obligations share the same code as we do? Those who return from the Stellaris Watch are never quite the same. Thomas for example, and Miles? Do you remember him? Though maybe his honor comes more from his age. But it's different nonetheless.”

“Again… you’re overthinking. We’ll deal with it as it comes. Regardless of the oathbreaker’s intentions, the fact remains that it has committed heresy and killed many of our fellow kin. Justifiable or not. Did it matter what Hendania’s intentions were before she created the Almirs? The little harm the God of Sin caused before no longer mattered after that. That action defined her forever. Nothing else of her remains. And like her, an oathbreaker is defined solely by their heresy. From that moment, their worth is no longer ours to judge but the Fair Maid’s. She will decide if the oathbreaker deserves peace.”

“Peace?” Nova asked, voice soft. “What kind of peace? Do we go to a hell? If so, which hell? The one of torment, or the halls of fine wine and long-gone comrades awaiting our stories that exceeded theirs, as our ancestors believed?”

“Some still believe in that kind of hell… Is that not why we sometimes jest about reunion beyond death?”

“Or maybe we go to a different world. An afterlife. Another life, as the fairy tales say. Or perhaps there’s just the void, it's what the Lemfords seem to believe. What do you think?”

"I'll know when I meet the Fair Maid. But if we return our discussion back to the oathbreaker, our thoughts don't truly matter in the end. Her fate isn’t ours to decide. Orders are orders. We’re here to hunt, and that’s what we must focus on."

“I know. It’s just my opinion, anyone without a little contradiction in their beliefs can’t possibly be called human. But out of all the different kinds of honor, I think a clan’s honor is the worst.”

Raid raised a brow. “The kind that sparks wars and determines the fates of many over a perceived insult?”

Nova’s face darkened, eyes hardening as if staring into a memory best left buried. “The kind that reasoned our people’s extinction was not just justified, but necessary. The kind with ambition, the kind that made our heartland cease to exist…”

Raid studied Nova’s face as she stared blankly into the darkness. Since returning with her mother’s swords, she’s acted almost like her usual self, quick with her words, sharp in her observations, but something about her seemed... off. Subtle, hard to define, like a shadow that didn’t quite match its source. He couldn’t shake the nagging sense that something had changed, though he had no way of knowing if it was real or just his mind playing tricks on him. Sometimes, excessive, unwarranted concern could easily create a rift, and he wasn’t sure he was willing to take that risk.

“Nova, if there’s ever anything on your mind... you can rely on me,” he said quietly.

“I know.” Her voice was clipped, factual.

The answer sufficed him for now. That's when they both noticed Owen returning, the rest of the group trailing behind him.

“I think we’ve lingered here long enough,” Claire announced as she strode forward. “Should we get going?”

“Where to?” Michael asked, frowning.

Raid smirked. “You two stopped fighting already? That was awfully fast.”

“You think I’d waste my time chasing him all night?” Claire said irritably, glancing at Michael with disdain. “The coward runs his mouth but flees the moment I do something about it."

“Who are you calling a coward?” Michael spat.

“Who else?”

Nova cut through their bickering with a casual, almost disinterested tone. “I was thinking we should head north, closer to the Snowset Mountains. We haven’t really started exploring there yet.”

“Agreed,” Owen said, nodding. “I had the same thought.”

“Should we run?” Anna asked, her eyes lighting up at the prospect.

“No, please don't,” Owen pleaded, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m begging you, can’t we just walk? I’m not built for running.”

“We won’t cover much ground walking,” Michael remarked distastefully.

“Have some consideration,” Claire replied. “How do you expect him to keep up when he isn’t a combat user? Can't even enhance.”

“It’s not like we’ve been running that fast with Owen in our group anyway,” Michael muttered dismissively.

“Hey!” Claire snared, anger flashing in her eyes. “That’s uncalled for.”

Signalflares serve as the only reliable source of long distance communication on the field. Messengers were slow, and in operations like this, where all parties were in constant motion, they became more of a hindrance, even useless. In short, Owen was a non-combatant. His legs, untrained for the sudden shifts in direction and speed that the knights executed with ease, protested against the unfamiliar terrain. Slowed the entire team to match his hesitant pace.

Owen glanced down at his knees, where dirt marred his pants, leftovers of a series of falls and stumbles. “I don’t think I can take any more of this, or I’ll be unable to walk,” he admitted. While he hasn't expressed it, everyone could see the truth in the way he walked after each fall, there were at least a few bruises he was trying to hide.

“We're walking then,” Nova announced. “Charlie, how are you holding up? You okay?”

Charlie nodded gently but remained silent.

That was enough of a response for Nova. She knew he was not one for words, preferring to observe the world around him rather than engage in banter. “Let’s move. Anna, you take lead.”

“On it,” Anna replied, jogging to the front of the group.

And so, everyone began walking north, inching closer to the outlined mountain range looming on the horizon.

Anna has displayed a remarkable ease in this environment, as though it seemed second nature to her. She climbed trees effortlessly, her agile movements allowing her to scout from above. The way she dodged branches and leaped over obstacles seemed almost instinctual, while the rest struggled to keep pace. Time and again, the team had to slow to a crawl, their progress hampered by the intermittent harsh terrain that Anna navigated with grace.

It was only natural for the group going forward to designate Anna to take point whenever they moved, sometimes allowing her to briefly scout ahead, especially when the terrain became challenging.

In these moments, Anna transformed before their eyes, one that thrived in the wild. Once timid and reserved, she now radiated confidence, leading the team through the thick underbrush. The only orders they had received were to wander and search for signs of the oathbreaker, and Anna embraced this role, becoming an unofficial guide, despite her unfamiliarity with this forest.

“How did you become so good at navigating these places, Anna? Are you from a village by chance? Somewhere near the woods?” Nova asked, her curiosity obvious as the group walked in single file, Nova just behind Anna.

“A small city, actually, called Lousten, in western Rose. It’s not too far from the border to Delcasa, but it’s not exactly close either. Have you heard of it?”

“No, I’m not really familiar with the west."

“It’s primarily a trading city,” Anna explained, a hint of nostalgia creeping into her tone. "The soil isn’t very good there you see. My father makes charcoal for a living. He would spend days in the forest, working alongside a few others. I often got dragged along to help. In spring, I would also go hunting with him. Any woodscape I consider dear to me, although the ones in the west are a little harsher compared to this one.”

“Did you not have siblings?” Michael, the fourth in line, asked. “Fathers usually take their sons to work. I mean, charcoal isn’t an easy job, definitely not for girls, it’s dirty. Is there a different mindset there?”

“Just one brother now, the eldest. There used to be two, but the second eldest died of illness, he was born weak. The oldest ran away from home, I don’t know why. My father never liked either of my brothers much, especially the oldest. And he doesn’t like leaving me at home either, so he takes me everywhere he goes, including work. I got used to it.”

“What about your mother?” Nova asked, her voice gentle but probing. “Never stayed with her at home while your father worked?”

Anna fell silent, and since she was leading the group, her back was turned to them. If they could see her face, they would have recognized the anguish Anna wore in response to Nova’s question.

“Anna?” Claire voiced.

“It’s nothing,” Anna replied, a practiced smile barely masking her discomfort. “Is it okay if I stop talking about this?”

“That’s fine,” Raid quickly chimed, eager to change the subject in consideration of Anna's anxious tone. “I thought I saw an owl just now. Did you guys catch anything?”

“Where?” Claire asked, quickly jumping on the distraction. “I thought they were hard to spot.”

“Can’t seem to see it anymore. I must’ve been imagining it then,” Raid shrugged. “Owen, do you know anything about owls?”

“Do I look like someone who knows anything about owls?” Owen retorted, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

“Well, don’t you stare at the sky all day?” Raid teased.

“Because it's my entire job to stare at the sky and interpret stars from other signalflares.”

“Something you’re not doing,” Nova added, her tone playful.

“Because nothing has happened in the last five days!?” Owen exclaimed, his tone more reactive than he'd realized.

“We know, we’ve been here with you,” Raid replied curtly, matter of fact.

A response that severely annoyed Owen's nerves. “Then why in hell did you bring it up? What does being a signalflare and staring beyond have to do with owls anyhow?”

“What difference does it make? Staring at stars, studying owls, same shit, isn’t it?” Michael tossed the words out with a casual smirk.

Owen’s mouth twisted into something that was almost a laugh, sharp and edged with irritation. “I know you’re all just fucking with me, but somehow, you’re actually starting to get under my skin.”

“I didn’t know you were such a proud signalflare,” Raid grinned. “But honestly, what if we were actually serious though? About the owl thing.”

“Hell. Damn you all.”

“My, my, it seems we’ve managed to make our signalflare mad. He actually sounds pissed off,” Claire teased. “You’re normally so calm, Owen. I didn’t know you had a blind spot for jokes.”

“If he takes his role so seriously that owls can rile him up, then maybe he should be gazing up at the stars with a little more… devotion,” Raid added, voice low and needling.

Owen shot Raid a glare. “Ah, yes, the great stars I’ve spent my entire career studying. No signals, no messages in days, but you all want me to keep staring up like some kind of tireless night bird? I wonder, if I did, would fate grant me her all-seeing wisdom?” His voice was laced with something bitter, somewhat mocking.

“Try it,” Michael said, shrugging off the sarcasm. “Let me know if you gain anything in ten years time. Maybe I'll follow suit.”

Raid had no idea Owen had such a weakness in pride, to be so emotionally invested, even if only mildly, in what was meant to be a joke. But he could sort of see where Owen was coming from. The sky and the land were seen as two great yet separate worlds of influence.

It is believed that one could dedicate their life to only one world in the pursuit of wisdom. For the prideful signalflares, whose identity lay in looking up while being bound as mere mortals to the ground, being compared to an owl, an animal whose life is spent looking down for prey, despite its ability to fly, could easily feel like an insult to their pride.

But the ill-fated relationship between the two became permanent when the intentional gifting of an owl led to a famous murder in days long past. He guessed even Owen could be a little immature at times.