The return to Strathmore was decidedly anticlimactic; the portal emerged into a stone-walled room, where Suzume presented a primly-annotated stack of notes and drafts to Topher (who duplicated them with Amanuensis and handed them back), then opened another portal and disappeared without so much as a farewell. Zashe eyed the space where she had been moments before with palpable dread. "It does not engender peace of mind to know that the Demon Queen can teleport directly into my bedroom in the middle of the night, but I suppose I must bear it. Let us deliver this to the appropriate persons."

Confidently, he turned, navigating the hallways of wherever they were with aplomb; Topher followed, confused. "Where are we, anyway? Didn't the castle get blown up?"

"Quite thoroughly," Zashe acknowledged over his shoulder, "but the Archmage rebuilt it a short while afterwards." Like how Kelfir rebuilt parts of Orvale, Topher remembered with a shock. I wonder if I can do that too? "Incidentally, are you done reading the book I loaned you?"

Topher started guiltily. "Uh, it kinda got destroyed when the Demon Lord's assassins burned down our inn. I'll pay for it."

Zashe chuckled, shook his head, and approached a large pair of double doors; "I will put it on your bill," he murmured humorously, then pushed the great wooden obstructions aside. Within, Topher could see the main room in which he'd first been summoned; Zashe strode through, and he followed, blinking.

As he did so, a strange feeling swept over him; he felt as though he was looking at everything with double vision, seeing things that once been strange and frightening to him with much more depth and understanding. The ridiculous scale of the room -- large enough to hold multiple Olympic swimming pools -- no longer seemed abnormal to him, nor did the comically small number of guards (four) responsible for securing the personification of the state. He was briefly awash in nostalgia, and a wisp of imaginary cigarette smoke tickled his nostrils and reminded him that he had, at one time, actually smoked. Then his brain registered the other inhabitants of the room, and everything came flooding back.

Quint was lying down near the foot of the throne, surrounded by doctors and healers; a mage in white robes with red triangular trim was casting small, frequent healing spells on the stump of his leg, and several men in black hats were taking very precise measurements of the Archmage's remaining appendage. Quint himself appeared to be unconscious, but Topher wouldn't have been surprised if the Archmage had just been faking it to avoid having to make inconsequential conversation.

Kelfir sat, looking exhausted, in a chair nearby off to one side of the throne -- he appeared to have his normal complement of limbs, which confused Topher for a moment until he remembered how the elf had helped him reattach his own leg after defeating Vashyarl. He gave a tentative wave, which Kelfir returned tiredly; as he did so, Topher glimpsed dark scars along the elf's upper arm as his sleeve fell back from his recently-reconstructed flesh. Jesus. Guess it's better than the alternative like Quint is going through.

Lastly, the trio of Rudo, Hana, and Zanasha were huddled together in the far corner, having some manner of intense discussion -- Topher was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the complex emotional tsunami which surged through him upon catching sight of them drowned out everything else. Zanasha seemed to be illuminated in his vision, with the rest of everything else fading to uninteresting grays; forgetting himself, he stepped away from Zashe and strode towards her. As he did so, she noticed him as well, and did the same; like a pair of magnets, they were drawn to each other.

Topher's heart felt like it was being tightly squeezed -- the worry he'd felt while away from her melted away, replaced by an overpowering physical need for her proximity. As they drew within arm's reach of each other, they both hesitated, then abandoned themselves to the inevitable; he threw his arms around her in a tight hug, and she threw her own arms over his shoulders and let both hands fall down across his back. Despite his overpowering desire to do so, Topher did not kiss her; instead, he simply pressed his cheek to hers and squeezed her tightly, awash with high-voltage relief at her safety.

There was a moment, timeless and boundless, in which nothing and no one else existed or mattered; then he heard an exaggerated cough from Rudo, followed by Hana's wry comment of "Yeah, the rest of us are here too, you know."

He chuckled, disengaging and looking over to them; he tried to look ashamed, but his face was beaming so brightly that he was simply incapable. "Sorry." He tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, failed, and gave up; instead, he just shrugged, and turned back to face Zashe again while keeping his arm around Zanasha's waist.

The king was handing the peace treaty and its subsequent documents to a guy Topher had never seen before; he was short and intense-looking, with a dark gray robe and a leather holster which appeared to hold a battle-ready assembly of quills and inkpots. As Topher's brow wrinkled in confusion, Rudo appeared as if summoned at his other elbow; "Sansonnet Helmeister," he murmured, "Seneschal of the kingdom."

Topher blinked, then smirked. "You think he's also got the Clerk Class?"

Rudo shook his head, smirking back. "Master Administrator. You don't really think that such an important duty would be entrusted to someone with an F-Rank Class such as Clerk, do you?"

They chuckled together, then Topher sobered as the Seneschal bowed and took the documents away to whatever digestive process within the kingdom's administrative framework awaited them. "So what happens now?"

Rudo shrugged. "I suspect that question will occupy the King and the Archmages for some time -- as well as, one hopes, the True Demon Lord. If I had to guess..." -- he looked over at Hana, who was assisting with the healers and chirurgeons helping Quint -- "...I would say that there will be a brief cessation of hostilities, followed by a collaborative effort at intelligence gathering and an attempt to come up with a plan of response."

Topher pondered the Innkeeper's words. "And if you were the True Demon Lord, what would you be doing while we did that?"

Rudo hesitated not at all. "Eliminating everyone involved to prevent things from getting more out of control."

Topher sighed. "Figures."

Reluctantly letting go of Zanasha's waist, he strode forward to talk to Kelfir; the elf looked up tiredly as he approached and nodded glumly. "Christopher. I presume the day is not going to get easier."

Topher grunted. "Depends on what you consider easy, I guess." He pulled another chair over next to Kelfir with Attract Object, then sat in it, leaning close to confide in the elf. "First off, how are you? You look a lot better off than Quint, but I'm guessing that's not the whole story, and I notice Sahlerra isn't here either."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The Archmage nodded, his tired eyes hooded. "Archmage Aumraham is not as practiced in the subtleties of transmutation as I; it is not, as you might imagine, his forte. Archmage Siukh is on another level entirely, as her, ah, physical attributes indicate; she will likely be fully recovered by sunrise." The elf's gaze wandered back to Quint. "I am not so fortunate. The next time I suffer such an injury, it will doubtless be my end."

"Look, pal, I'm not sure anybody typically walks away from having both their arms ripped off," Topher protested. "This True Demon Lord guy tried to kill all three of you, and he got zero; that's a win in my book, even if Quint gets a wooden leg out of the deal. But that doesn't mean he won't try again."

"Indeed," Kelfir murmured back wearily. "I overheard Master Muchenje's claim, and cannot contest it; nevertheless, we lack information, and have no other options." He sagged slightly; Topher started to grab him to help keep him upright, then halted in caution of Kelfir's Wyrds; then, after a moment, he realized how stupid he was being. They're probably all gone. Jesus, he must be feeling half-dead in so many ways. Guiltily, he muttered the runes for Remove Fatigue and watched the elf straighten up again. "What remains now is to uncover what sources of information we have yet to investigate -- particularly in the vaults of forbidden and dangerous knowledge my ancestors have sealed away."

"What, there are elf secrets you don't know?" Topher raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you were, like, the boss of all elves, or something?"

"I remind you again that elves are not a unified people," Kelfir muttered sourly in reproof. "We do not have a 'boss', and if we did, they would administer a particular community of elves, not elfkind as a whole. The lore and secrets of the elven folk are scattered and disparate; while I do have the most plausible claim to their collection, locating and making sense of them will be neither simple nor swift." He sighed.

As they watched, the flurry of activity around Quint eased; the black-hatted men finished their measurements and departed, and the white-robed healer followed shortly thereafter. The Archmage was left dozing peacefully on a cot with only Hana watching him; Topher started to worry, then remembered that Quint's Arch Shielding would likely protect him from anything short of (and possibly including) another explosion destroying the castle.

"I furthermore imagine," Kelfir continued after a short pause, "that given his ability to eliminate Zytis and Tuveinth before we could even anticipate such an action, the True Demon Lord has likely already taken steps to expunge some, if not all, of what information we might desire. Our only hope is that the very paranoia and irascibility of our sages which has heretofore frustrated effective intelligence-gathering may have acted to somewhat safeguard such fragments as remain, if any." As the elf fell silent, Hana laid a hand on Quint's forehead; the Archmage's eyes opened, staring up at her, then he winked cheekily before closing his eyes once more. Irritated, the young Japanese woman strolled back to where Rudo was standing.

Topher winced. "Okay, so, as usual, we're boned. What now? What can I do to help?"

To his surprise, Kelfir patted him comfortingly on one knee. "For now, I do not believe anything will be required of you; though we may eventually require your assistance, this is a task best left to others. There are heroes other than Christopher Bailey in this realm, you know." As Topher gaped, he rose, then strode over to where Quint lay and bent down for a whispered conversation; after a few moments, he stood back up, nodded in a general way to the room at large, and disappeared in a flash of golden light.

Topher sat, feeling awkward and aimless, for a few minutes; eventually, Hana came over and took the chair Kelfir had been using. "Quint will probably be okay," she said stiffly. "They said they're going to get him a prosthetic leg. Something magic or other."

Topher nodded. "You seemed like you were mad at him, or something."

Hana sighed. "I had a lot of anger at him after we were first Summoned. Seeing him almost give his life for us helped a little, but..." She shrugged, closing her eyes. "I'm trying to be a better person, Bailey-sama. But I don't think I'm very good at it."

"I think you're amazing at it," said Topher sincerely. She straightened up, eyes wide, and searched his face for condescension or mockery; but Topher's mind was elsewhere, and the gentle, comforting words which he would have normally bitten back for fear of awkwardness seemed to be coming out of him without his consent or approval, and weirdest of all he wasn't even upset about it. "I'm probably the last person you should take advice from about becoming a better person, but one thing I do know about it is that actually trying is the important part." He looked away, watching Zashe as he engaged Rudo and Zanasha in conversation; they seemed to be hitting it off. "They're saying we might have some time off, or something, but that scares me. I feel like we should be trying to capitalize on the peace treaty, or doing something else to prepare."

Hana nodded, grimacing. "I guess. I want to go home... check on my garden. But I also want to train, to help, to learn more about what happened to me in the fight with Vashyarl..." she looked down at her hand, seeing something Topher couldn't understand. "I want a lot of things. But I also don't want to lose what I have."

Topher shifted uncomfortably, knowing where this was going. "Yeah." Reluctantly, he turned back to face Hana, who had a stern expression. "I know what you want to hear, Hana, but I don't have any answers either. This is all just as new to me as it is to you, and..." -- he winced -- "...I don't have much of a plan either. I don't know what I'm doing, and this could all fall apart or go wrong even if the True Demon Lord never bothers us again." He closed his eyes. "But unlike you, there's only one thing I want."

They both looked away from each other, but neither of them moved. The silence between them stretched for a long time; Topher felt awkward and selfish, but he couldn't see any other way past this. I'm asking you to trust me. So the least I can do is trust you.

Eventually, the young Japanese woman sighed and turned back to him. "Bailey-sama, I'm stuck too. I want to meet you in the middle, but..." -- her lip trembled -- "...I'm afraid. So instead of saying it's okay..." She paused, took a deep breath, and soldiered on. "Instead, I'll say... good luck." She blinked away a sudden surge of emotion and lowered her eyes.

Impulsively, Topher spread his arms; reluctantly, she leaned in for a hug. "You'd better not mess this up," she growled into his shoulder; Topher chuckled and patted her back as reassuringly as he could manage.

"Well, if I do, I apologize in advance," he managed, struggling a little with the weight of the situation and his feelings. "Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, maybe."

She nodded, pushing him away and wiping her eyes; he was surprised to see a smile on her face. "You forgave me. So I guess it's only fair."

Grateful, he stood, waving awkwardly; she watched him go as he turned away. As he approached, Zashe nodded to him and moved on to some other errand; Rudo, to Topher's surprise, followed him, leaving him alone with Zanasha. She smiled beatifically at him, but her expression faded as she beheld his serious mien. "Topher? Is everything well?"

"I think so," he managed, staring at her; as always, her beauty took his breath away. "But things are probably going to get serious soon, so I have to talk to you about something."

Instantly, she was all business once more; her muscles tightened, her fist gripped her sword hilt, and steel entered her spine and her eyes. "Of course. How may I be of aid?"

Topher steadied himself as best he could; this wasn't going to be easy at all. His hands fumbled as he searched for the best words. "The True Demon Lord is probably going to move fast, so we don't know how much time we'll have. And I think..." -- he struggled for words a little -- "...I think I need to take action quickly, while the opportunity lasts. And that means I need to ask you something difficult."

Her eyes were full of worry, he saw; nevertheless, she was a Fighter, and would weather any trial or challenge without complaint. And so it was a shock of tremendous proportions when, instead of asking her to stay behind or accompany him into a Hell-Dungeon with no hope of survival, he simply dropped to one knee and proffered the Ring of Nondetection he'd pulled off his own hand to her. "I love you, Zanasha Jones, and I'm not gonna take the chance that you might get away. So, uh, despite us only having dated for about a day and a half so far..." -- he gulped -- "if it's not too crazy, will you marry me?"