There was a brief moment of serious panic when the guards called out that there was an armed intruder at the gates.

It abated slightly when they clarified there was only one person at the gates, but by then, every person trained to fight had already armed themselves and gathered by the gates, as the Chief made her way up the stairs to the viewing platform, staff in hand, with Rann, Vann and I right behind her.

"I swear to all the gods, alive or dead…" Max, one of the guards, grumbles under his breath as he clutches his spear. "Why does this happen whenever I get gate duty…"

The man standing before the gates is indeed a man, not a scout of the Red Wolves. He's dressed in plain clothes, and all he carries is a sheathed arming sword, and a sack slung over his back. It takes me a moment, though, before I recognise that I know this man.

Or rather, I know his hairstyle. Long, brown, wavy hair going down to his shoulders, perfectly parted around his face. He's grown a bit of stubble, but he still has that same damn smile beneath those ruby-red eyes.

"... What business does one of the Keepsguard have at our gates? Alone, no less?" The Chief asks, in a loud, commanding voice.

"Former Keepsguard, if I am to be specific." The man chuckles. I remember his name now. "I am no longer Sir Marco, Chief Lichtrufer. It's just Marco now."

"That doesn't answer my question. Why are you here." The Chief repeats, narrowing her eyes as she grips her staff. He did good to remember her name, at least.

"If I must elaborate, then I left the Keepsguard. They won't come looking for me, if that's what is causing your worries; it's the armour they care about, not the person wearing it. I have to say, I worried if I would ever find this place again. I'm probably the only person from the Keep with the memory to remember where to go. We'd never ventured so far west before." He explains, but he's using a lot of words to say very little, as his noble type is wont to do.

His answer isn't satisfying the Chief, either, as she says nothing and continues to glare down at him. She likely knows his verbal tricks better than I do.

"Look…" He scratches the back of his head, looking down sheepishly. "I was going mad combing through every inch of that infernal forest. Whatever wild goose chase you sent Sir Ryvon on worked. I'd had enough. I didn't have a choice in joining the Keepsguard, either, and I figured… you've taken in former Keepsguards before."

Now that I look at him again, he doesn't look much older than 20. Which would mean… he was a young teenager at most when he was reborn in the Abyss. He probably really didn't have a choice in joining the Keepsguard, if he was found as a boy by a group of fully armoured knights.

"Chief." Ingrid's voice calls from behind us, and we look back only to see… several people struggling to hold Ingrid back, as she tries to force her way towards the stairs, warhammer in hand. "I heard there was an intruder."

"There's only one, Ingrid. Put the hammer down." Vann sighs, rubbing his forehead. "We're handling it."

"Is that Ingrid back there?" Marco laughs. "I'd ask her to vouch for me as I did for her, but I imagine that isn't why she brought her hammer again."

"You still have not clearly answered my question, Marco." The Chief turns her gaze back to him, leaning forward over the palisade. "Why are you here?"

"Well, if I really must…" He laughs, but looks down again. "Would you consider acting out of charity this one time? I did come all this way in the vain hope you'd at least let me rest the night…"

"I was more than charitable the last time your ilk was here by not erasing them right where they stood. Why should we let you in now?" She tilts her staff forwards as a subtle threat.

"I don't come empty-handed, to be clear… I imagine you want information on the Keepsguard from someone more open to talking about it than Ingrid?" He holds his hands out with his invisible offer.

"Hmm." The Chief stands up straight, giving both Rann and Vann a look. "Very well. Open the gates."

"Thank you, Chief Lichtrufer. I will never forget this kindness—" He begins to speak, only to find golden chains manifesting and tightening around his wrists and ankles, as the gates rumble open before him, and several armed guards and Expedition team members move to surround him. "... Ah. Fair enough, I suppose."

"Bring him to the interrogation room. We have many questions for you, Marco." The Chief orders, as Robb nonchalantly scoops Marco up and slings him over his shoulder, as others confiscate his sword and sack.

"S-surely… I could walk there myself if you untied my ankles—" Marco tries to protest, but a sharp jab to the backside from Einar shuts him up.

"Keep quiet, boy." Einar scowls at him.

So.

This was what it looked like when they brought me into Haven…

…

Marco had been safely carried all the way and locked up in the interrogation room for now. Normally, the Chief would get straight into interrogation, especially since Marco isn't unconscious like I was when I was brought in, but she is instead dealing with a different issue first.

"Why did you let him in?" Ingrid demands to know from the Chief.

That issue being Ingrid, who stopped the Chief, Rann and I right outside her residence as we were going to go begin said interrogation.

"Because he knows how to find Haven, and he has some use to us. I don't see how it concerns you." The Chief answers curtly.

"He's a Keepsguard." Ingrid says with vitriol. "You can't just leave the Keepsguard. I know that better than anyone here."

"I'm aware of that, Ingrid. I'm sure you're also aware that you can't just leave Haven. He's here, we have no choice but to take him in. We do, however, have a choice on what terms we allow him in on."

"He's. A Keepsguard. He can't be trusted." Ingrid repeats, to the Chief's annoyance.

"So were you, Ingrid. Yet, despite my regretting it at this very moment, we took you in as our own." She sighs with a slight growl.

"I was an auxiliary at most, not even trusted to go anywhere near the Keepsguard's armour. He wore it. He was with Ryvon. Ryvon likely sent him here to spy. He may go on and on about knightly valor, but he was never above sending others to do his "dishonourable" work." Ingrid presses, but her concerns annoys the Chief further.

"I'm well aware, Ingrid. Do you truly think I believed for even a moment that he wouldn't have any ulterior motives? He most certainly has more reasons for being here than he's letting on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it, before you got in my way." The Chief's voice starts to rise in anger, and Rann puts his hand on her shoulder.

"I get your worries, Ingrid. He's not going to be wandering around town on his own anytime soon. Not until we've made sure he's trustworthy." Rann speaks up, trying to calm the both of them down.

"He isn't worth trusting. What will you do then?" Ingrid scowls, clenching her fist. "Get rid of him?"

"Normally that happens after interrogating a prisoner, Ingrid, if it happens at all." Rann sighs, shaking his head. "Preferably, there will be no bloodshed."

"Trusting him is a mistake, he'll only—" Ingrid starts, before the Chief finally snaps.

"Will you shut it!?" She yells, stamping her boot into the mud. "I get it. I get it. You don't trust the Keepsguard. You seem to be labouring under the assumption that because we let him in, in chains no less, we trust him. We don't. We obviously don't. Half of the reasons why we let him in instead of vaporising him on the spot is he has useful information on the Keepsguard. Something you have proven to lack in recent times, Ingrid. If you do not get out of our way so we can get that information out of him, then I'm more than happy to throw you into the Cellars alongside him!"

"... Okay." Ingrid steps aside.

"O-Okay? You're just… whatever. We've wasted enough time." The Chief storms past her in a huff towards the tavern.

"Honestly, Ingrid…" Rann gives her a weary look.

"Letting him in was a mistake, but I don't want to share a cell with him." She shrugs.

"I really don't get you, sometimes…" He sighs again, stepping past her. "Come on, Marina. The Chief might bite this Keepsguard's head off if we leave her alone with him."

Fortunately, Vann had been in the room with Marco this whole time, keeping an eye on him. Marco had kept quiet, chained to the chair this whole time, as the Chief met with Tiff outside the room, before the two of them, Rann, and I entered. The three of them took their seats, while I stood quietly behind them against the wall.

"Is this… normally how guests are treated in Haven?" Marco asks, shuffling his arms a little behind him helplessly.

"Uninvited ones, yes." is the Chief's blunt answer.

"I am thankful to finally be out of the mud. I must also apologise for Ryvon's remarks over this being a "witch's hovel." You've built a beautiful little town here, in spite of the circumstances." Marco flashes that rehearsed smile, but it fails to work against someone like the Chief.

"I imagine Ryvon wouldn't be too happy about one of his knights deserting his keep. Let's start with how you left in the first place." Rann speaks, crossing his arms.

"A few of us always stay behind to hold down the fort, so to speak. Ryvon was setting off on another blasted foray into that blasted forest, and though I thankfully didn't have to join this one, I knew I'd be called up for the next one. Simply put, I'd had enough. I told the others I was taking off my armour and leaving, and they'd have to fight me to stop me. None of them did. I walked out the gate and never looked back. I kept walking and walking until I eventually made my way to the gates of Haven. As I said, Ryvon won't come looking for me. I left the armour behind, that's all that old fool cares about. Does that answer your question, Mister…?" Marco explains, then asks for Rann's name.

"Rann." He answers.

"Rann. Is that a northern name?" Marco asks with that smile again.

"Compared to you, yes. Sovranan, aren't you?" Rann raises an eyebrow.

"Is it that obvious…?" He chuckles lightly.

"Yes." I automatically answer.

"Obvious to you, my brave fool. Alas, I know my charm is wasted on the fairer sex of my country… they are far too accustomed to our usual manners of courtship." He smiles effortlessly, as he suddenly speaks Sovranan to me.

I haven't heard my native tongue in some time. Though it has similar roots to what was the original language of the Giornovan Empire, where the Common language gifted by the god Axel has all but replaced it, part of the Sovranan Republic's proud independence is the continued use of its own language. Of course, being a mercantile republic, everyone knows Common as well as Sovranan, and Sovranan functions as a bit of an inside-language between traders overseas to get better deals. It also helps that the Sovranan tongue has no shortage of insults.

"Yes, I know your "usual manners" all too well. My father made sure all his daughters were aware of the usual tricks of no-good noble sons." I respond back in Sovranan, drawing a look from Vann.

"Mind sharing what you two are talking about? It sounds… colourful." He asks, leaning against the wall opposite me.

"Yes. I'd prefer all conversations in this room happen in Common, going forward." The Chief lays down the rule.

"Forgive us, Chief Lichtrufer. So rarely do I get to speak my native language these days. I was happy to find an opportunity to do so." Marco apologises with a slightly abashed smile.

"Depending on how this meeting goes, you may have many such opportunities to converse in your native tongue… or none at all." The Chief warns. Given Ingrid's already soured her mood, I dread to think just how she'll deny Marco the ability to talk in Sovranan.

"Alright, I apologise. I'll behave." He waves his restrained hands in sincerity.

"You said you have information on the Keepsguard. I want to hear it." The Chief leans forward, clasping her hands together. "All of it."

"All of it…?" Marco chuckles nervously. "What, the layout of the old keep, rank structure, armour cleaning rituals, the Banners of Chivalry…"

"Is that the name of that pair of teleporting banners you used last time?" Rann interjects as Marco rattles off a number of rather bland topics.

"It is the name Ryvon gave them. It is probably not their actual name, if they have one, it is just… what he called them. They were in the Keep when he discovered it and founded the Keepsguard." Marco shrugs. It's not a very inspired name.

"... I've never thought of it, but how long has the Keepsguard been a thing down here?" Tiff, who's been silently taking notes, looks up and asks.

"Must be nearing forty years now. They were a real problem when they first cropped up out of nowhere. How they found a godsdamn castle with an intact armoury complete with enchanted full plate armour, no one knows." Rann grunts. "Don't suppose you could tell us that too, could you Marco?"

"I wish I could. Just how Ryvon found the old keep is a secret he'll take to his grave. However he found it, he believes it gives him the right to do… whatever he deems right." Marco sighs, looking down. "Trust me, we have all tried to learn how he found it. He will never tell a soul."

"How long were you part of the Keepsguard?" The Chief asks, sitting upright.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Ten years, I would say. I was… fourteen when I, well, ended up down here. I was found by the Keepsguard, and they took me in, regardless of what I thought about it." He shrugs again. "I never saw myself as knightly material, but my somewhat noble birth seems to have impressed Ryvon enough to take me in."

"I don't imagine all the Keepsguard are of noble birth. Most of the time, nobles are more likely to avoid untimely deaths than those of a more humble origin." She posits. Humble origin is a delicate way to put it, given I don't know of any "nobles" in Haven besides herself and Irie.

"They aren't, yes." He smiles. "But apparently he'll take anyone who happened to be born to a higher family right away. Others have to… earn their place, as he put it."

"Is that what led to Ingrid's expulsion?" The Chief asks, her curiosity piqued. "Did she fail to earn her place?"

"No. Ingrid was expelled because Ryvon couldn't stand her." Marco chuckles. "It is a shame we lost her. She was a fine smithy, even with her… prickly temperament."

"I see…" She sighs, no doubt feeling some unexpected sympathy for the leader of the Keepsguard. "Well. Regarding more pertinent information. Let's start with the layout of the old keep you left."

Throughout the interrogation, Marco was entirely cooperative, answering every question asked with as much detail as he could. His description of the castle was so vivid that Tiff could produce an accurate sketch of its entire floorplan, level by level, including the side entrances and secret tunnels. He gave us the name and role of every member of the Keepsguard, all twenty-eight of them. They had twenty sets of enchanted plate armour, and seventeen were in use; it was eighteen until he left, while the rest performed supportive roles. While the castle had a small garden, most of their food they got via what Ryvon called his "levies", but were in actuality naked extortion of other groups in the Abyss that weren't fortunate enough to find an entire castle they could take as their own.

The plate armour itself was of great interest to everyone present. Though he did not know their true nature as he was not a mage, he could list their features: they didn't rust, they were self-cleaning, they could even slowly repair damage over time, and they always fit their wearer perfectly. They were not impervious to damage, but they were tougher than he expected, and highly resistant to magic. Though the individual pieces were heavy, when worn as a complete set, they were almost weightless. Thankfully, they didn't infer any improved strength or agility to their wearer, but that was hardly a drawback given all their other benefits. Tougher, lighter plate armour that didn't require maintenance was already a massive advantage.

Fortunately, their weapons were as ordinary as they come, but that's little consolation when we could face up to twenty fully-armoured soldiers marching on Haven's gates. Ryvon will, sooner or later, give up on his futile endeavour to find his long-lost princess buried in the Dead Hollows, and he'll likely come straight back to us when he realises he's been had. There was also the issue of their teleporting pair of banners. As Ingrid said, one was always kept in the castle and the other was taken with the group that set out, so they could instantly return to the old keep, and Marco confirmed that this was always how they operated. The banners project a circle on the ground around them, and everything within that circle is recalled to the other banner. This also let them bring back far more than they could ordinarily carry, meaning supplying themselves was no issue.

There were a few holes in his descriptions, though. Ryvon was a notoriously secretive man, who regularly withheld information from the other Keepsguard unless they absolutely had to know. Dueren, the oldest member of the Keepsguard, was Ryvon's right-hand man, but even he didn't know all the secrets Ryvon kept. He often had to act as the voice of reason whenever Ryvon proposed an action without explaining why it had to be done. Although Marco told us there were twenty-eight people in the keep, he admitted that he couldn't be entirely sure there wasn't anyone else within the keep, as it held as many secrets as Ryvon himself. Tiff brought this up when she looked over her floorplans and saw several inexplicable gaps or nonsensical pathways; stairs that lead nowhere, or doors that opened to nothing. He also, importantly, didn't know how Crow was caught, and whether or not they had a magical detection trinket that aided in his capture. If they did, it was another one of Ryvon's secrets, since Ryvon caught him.

It had been an hour of questioning before Marco began to grow more evasive with his answers.

"Is the fact that you "had enough" of Ryvon's demands the only reason you abandoned the Keepsguard?" The Chief asks him directly, after several more indirect questions along the same lines had gotten vague answers.

"That is the main reason. I never liked him, to be clear. No one did, but they were too afraid to act against him. Despite his age, he could best any of us in a fight, even when it was many of us against just himself." Marco explains with a calm smile, the same he's kept throughout most of the interrogation.

"That doesn't answer my question, Marco." She lowers her gaze to glare at him. "Just because you've been cooperative in some regards, doesn't mean I haven't seen your evasiveness in others."

"Hah…" He laughs dryly, looking towards the window. "I know. Soulseer, aren't you? I've heard of your type."

"If you've heard of my type, you know whatever you're doing won't work on me." She calmly responds.

"Well…" He turns to look back at us, but his friendly demeanour drops, his hair falling over one eye as he tilts his head. "That is fair. I do have my own reasons for being here. You see, I… have no interest in dying in this miserable, muddy little hell-hole."

"None of us do." Rann points out the obvious. "Why'd that make you come to us?"

"I knew you had your own secrets, being a secret little village across the Abyss from us. The fact that you have a village at all speaks volumes." He tilts his head towards me, setting his gaze on me. The usual lustre of his ruby eyes were gone, instead looking like blank red circles framing cold white pupils. "When that brave fool over there leapt down before me to rescue that child, I got a good look at her, from top to bottom. Including those green marks on her knees. I was not so pampered a child that I did not know what a grass stain looks like."

Everyone goes silent, and looks back at me.

The day the Keepsguard arrived at our gates was also the day after I flew out of the Abyss. The day after I fell to my knees in the grass, and got it all over my legs. The day that Tiff had elected not to wash my pants, just so people could see something green. The Chief and I had hoped none of the Keepsguard noticed, when I jumped down to back up Ingrid, and rescue Crow.

At least one of them did.

"... Did you share this observation with any other Keepsguard?" The Chief asks, turning back to Marco cautiously.

"No, because I could not be certain, until I saw your reactions just now." He laughs self-assuredly. "I did not see anything green here, even in your lovely little village. Nothing is green down here. So the only way one of you could end up with grass stains… is if you had a way out."

"You knew what you saw." The Chief corrects Marco, drawing a slightly surprised look from him. "It just gave you more questions than answers. Such as, if we really had a way out…"

"... Heh. Then why would you all still be here." He sighs to himself. "That is one question I could not answer, no matter how hard I thought about it."

"It's more than that, Marco. It is evident to me that you think very highly of yourself." The Chief explains, voicing all her observations of him. "You have one prerogative in mind: self-preservation. You saw the grass stains on Marina's legs, and reasoned that we must have a way out of the Abyss, as there is nothing green down here. It's what drove you to abandon the Keepsguard, and cross the entire Abyss on your own to find Haven, and try and bargain your way inside. Such a solo journey is no mean feat, unless someone cares deeply about their self-preservation. Egoists like you can always be trusted to do just one thing: act in their own best interest."

"Aha…" He laughs nervously, looking away from the Chief's glower. "That is a little harsh, but… I am just hedging my bets. As I said, I don't intend to die down here."

"Yet you made a mistake." The Chief's tone turns serious, and Marco freezes. "You assumed that whatever information you gave us would at least earn you a place here, and you could quietly figure out just how one of us got out of the Abyss, so you could leverage that to find your own way out. Such selfish desires are anathema to this settlement, and have no place here. Either we all escape this place, or none of us can. No-one deserves to spend their second lives trapped down here."

"Then…" Marco snorts at the incredulity of the Chief's statement. "Then what about that girl? How did she find grass? Did she escape? If she did, why did she come back? Why would ANYONE come back here if they had a way out?"

The thought crossed my mind, yes. It was tempting. So very, very tempting to just turn and run, rather than come back down. But I made a promise, and I believe in the Chief's vision. We're all making it out of here. Not just one of us. All of us.

I go to answer him, but my wings decide they'll answer his other question pertaining just how I escaped, by thrusting themselves out from under my cloak, nearly covering the back wall with their length and size.

Marco just stares wide-eyed at me for a long moment, before he mutters "... what the fuck?" in Sovranan, and slumps back in his chair.

"Hah!" Rann laughs. "Been a while since I've seen that look on someone."

"Marina…" The Chief sighs, looking back at me. "Was now really the right time to do that?"

"It was their idea, not mine."

"You… have wings?" Marco stutters, trying to process what he's looking at. "You can fly…? But then why… would you…"

"If you must know, there really was just grass up there. Some mountains in the distance, sure, but no sign of civilisation, though we know it does exist. That wasn't the important part, though. As the Chief said, we're looking for a way for all of us to escape. Not just one. All."

"Hah… Haha…" Marco's head sinks, laughing in self-pity. "This is what I get…? I left one group of hopeless idealists, just to hand myself over to another?"

"Let me guess." The Chief smiles. "Ryvon's after the Gauntlet, isn't he?"

"That accursed…" He swears in Sovranan, before reverting to Common. "Yes. His idiotic ideals of knightly valour or whatever are what got is into this fucking mess. Searching through a deadly forest for some princess that'll magically open the way to the Gauntlet. I don't have time for fairy tales. I want out. You have a way out, but don't tell me you're…"

"Looking for the same thing?" Rann grins dryly. "That we are. Don't suppose you have any pointers for us, do you?"

"What have I done…" he mutters to himself as he sinks into his chair.

"Left one group of hopeless idealists for another." I smile, answering him in our mother tongue. "There's no leaving this lot, either."

"Marina…" The Chief gives me a look.

"Just repeating his words back at him, Chief."

"Well, Marco." She turns back to him, clasping her hands on the table. "You may have just walked out of the Keepsguard after issuing a challenge, but if you try the same here, your challenge will be met. Now that you're here, we can't just let you leave."

"So what now? I am to be your slave?" He glances up at the Chief, a scowl on his face.

"Oh, it's not that bad. I've been there before."

"Marina!" The Chief glares back at me, before turning her attention back to Marco with an annoyed sigh. "Call it what you will, Marco. No one is allowed to leave Haven; its secrecy is its security. You have breached its secrecy, so you will have to work to make up for it."

"I take it I should get used to these chains…" He slumps back in his chair, defeated.

"Please." With a wave of her hand, the golden chains binding Marco in place fall away and disappear into nothingness. "They're just a formality."

Marco sits up, stretching his arms and legs out as he gives the Chief a slightly confused look. "After all this talk about my selfishness being an anathema to your town… You will still let me stay?"

"You're no use to us rotting in the Cellars. There's plenty of work we can put a young, able-bodied man to. Of course, we'll be keeping a close eye on you for the time being, but you needn't worry. You'll get a warm bed, a roof over your bed, and if you cooperate, three hot meals a day." The Chief smiles. "You'll hardly be living the slave's life. Just ask Marina."

"Well…"

"Marina." She glares at me over her shoulder.

"L-Like I said, it's not that bad. It's a thousand times better than trying to survive on your own out there."

"Right…" Marco seems unconvinced by my answer, but knows he doesn't have a choice. "So, is the questioning over…? Can I ask any questions…? Such as…"

"Such as why Marina has wings?" The Chief finishes for him.

"That is where I wanted to start, yes." He blinks, staring at my wings.

"She has wings because she has wings. If you want a more detailed answer, you'll have to behave long enough to be allowed into my library. For now, though, it's time we showed you where you'll be staying now that you're a member of Haven." She waves off his question and gestures towards

"Alright then. Come on, I'll show you to your room for the time being until we find a more permanent place for you." Vann pats Marco on the shoulder, making him flinch slightly.

"R-right… nowhere near Ingrid, I hope? While I have nothing against her, I heard she was… out for my head…" Marco stands. He's a bit shorter than Vann, seeing them side by side.

"Don't worry. We'll keep you safe from her." Vann chuckles, and the two leave the room.

"Gods…" Tiff smiles, flicking through her notes. "So many pages. He must have a very good memory to recall the castle with such detail…"

"If we ever plan to attack it, we have maps now." Rann leans back, stretching his arms. "Not that I plan on it."

"We'll have to organise a town meeting soon, preferably tomorrow, given we gained a new member of Haven today…" The Chief sighs, rubbing her forehead. "An unexpected one, but one we'll just have to deal with."

"What do you make of him, Chief?"

"What do you make of him, Marina? You seem familiar with his… type." She turns back to face me.

"You're right in calling him a self-preserving egoist, but… he must be capable if he made it all the way here by himself. I don't think he'll pose a threat, at least as he is now."

"I've never heard you speak Sovranan before, Marina. It sounds rather musical~" Tiff comments.

"I've never had someone to speak it with, besides maybe Irie. I was worried I'd be a little rusty with it."

"I'm not too familiar with it, so I hope he didn't say anything untowards Haven or anyone in this room…" The Chief raises an eyebrow at me.

"It was just cursing, complaining, and a bit of flirting. It's how most conversations in Sovranan go."

"Hm, that explains a couple things…" She mutters to herself.

"Does it now?"

"It does." She speaks in her normal tone before standing. "Would you mind checking on Ingrid for me? She's hopefully retreated back to her smithy, and if I hear another word out of her mouth today, I… I may do things I will briefly regret."

"I'll check on her. I have been wondering how my sword's been going."

Sure enough, Ingrid had retreated to her smithy, wordlessly labouring on sharpening my new sword as I leaned against the entrance to her smithy.

"So?" She finally asks, without looking up. I can guess she wants to know what's happening with Marco.

"You know the rules. We can't just let Marco leave, so he'll be staying here and be put to work."

She snorts, giving me a look. "What, she's not throwing him in the Cellars?"

"He's no use to us rotting away down there, is what the Chief said."

"I don't trust him." She scowls, staring down at her grindstone as she furiously pedals it with her feet. "I never did. Smiles too much, and uses a lot of words to say very little of worth."

"I know. He admitted that he came to Haven because he thought we had an easier way out than what the Keepsguard were looking for. He was sorely disappointed when he found out we were after the same thing. He also got pretty startled when he saw my wings."

She stops, and gives me another blank look. "They are weird, you know."

"Yeah, I know, and I'm the one they're attached to. I'm still struggling to comprehend how they can regrow their blade-feathers by drawing strength from my body."

"Do you think if we broke a whole sword off, you'd regrow the whole thing?" She asks with slightly worrying interest.

"... Maybe, but given how I passed out from just regrowing a little of each of them, I don't want to see what will happen if I lose an entire blade-feather."

"I guess." She looks disappointed, and goes back to working the grindstone.

"At least, it seems that the Keepsguard are no closer to finding the Gauntlet than we are, if Marco knew nothing about it we didn't, besides Ryvon's lopsided idea of how to open it if he found it."

"Why does everyone always talk about the Gauntlet like there's only one of them?" She asks, staying focused on her work.

"... What do you mean?"

She gives me a look like it's the most obvious thing ever. "What good is one gauntlet? They come in pairs for a reason."

"You… have a point."

"I never cared much about the gods, but I know Arnar's symbol is an empty suit of armour. Why wouldn't it have two gauntlets?" She shrugs.

"Even if there were two, it doesn't help us much if no-one's found either of them…"

Still…

She really does have a point. Yeah, a gauntlet can mean a series of challenges, but it's also… a piece of armour, and Arnar is sometimes depicted as an empty suit of armour. A full suit of armour usually has two gauntlets.

While it might be worth bringing this up with the others, it still doesn't help if we can't find either of them, but looking for two things can be easier than looking for one. If there are two, and both promise a way out, then we only need to find one of them.

"Marina." Ingrid says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Your sword won't be finished today. Come back tomorrow." She gives me a blank stare.

"R-right. Sorry. I'll leave you to your work."

Though she has her own reasons, I get why Ingrid doesn't like Marco. I've never liked his… type.

I just hope whatever work he does will be away from me… and from Ingrid. Yeah, I'm not a fan of him. Ingrid might actually throw a hammer at him if provoked.

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