They decided to leave in the morning, though they set out a much more sedate pace compared to how they entered Crystal Falls. The village gathered to see them off, the gaggle of children Florent had under his care waving furiously at them. As a gift for dealing with the elemental, they now had a robust supply of dried fish for the road.

Priscilla gave them a jaunty wave before looking forward. They had been good kids, talkative but not annoying despite how they attempted to press Kavil for all the details of their fight with the elemental. Admittedly, that was mostly because Priscilla had been preoccupied with the revelations from yesterday during breakfast, so she hadn't helped much with entertaining the young ones. Illnyea had joined in since she had more energy, so Priscilla didn't feel too badly about staring at her oats like they might reveal the secrets the gods hid from her.

Sleeping on it hadn't provided any new insight (fuck you god of cowards) and until she talked with Kavil, Priscilla was stuck. There was no use wasting energy worrying about it, so Priscilla sighed as she spurred her horse to the front of their group so she could keep an eye on Perry, who was seemingly sleeping peacefully in his carrier on Illnyea's horse. Priscilla still wasn't sure how the platypus had terrorized a god, but it was something she wouldn't soon forget. Maybe she'd give him a few worms in exchange for a bit of god-terrorizing if her search stalled.

Despite the detour to kill a wayward elemental, they were still on track to get to the capital with time to spare before the tournament began. Priscilla didn't know much about Duchess Jencard besides her name, but she planned on hitting the ground running once they hit the capital and got settled in. She still hadn't decided if she'd pursue leads by herself or if she'd invite one of her friends to come along — her biggest reservation was that Priscilla had zero reasonable explanations for why she was trying to make contact with a duchess while she was a peasant who had previously expressed disdain for hoity-toity nobility.

There was still time, so Priscilla put 'figure out a good lie so her friends didn't worry' on her to-do list.

The day of travel passed by with no major incidents, to which Priscilla let out a small sigh of relief. She was still sore, and hadn't even felt up to singing traveling songs when Illnyea began to teach one to Kavil, with a reluctant Sulaiman chipping in when Illnyea looked at him expectantly.

When they made camp for the night just off the main road, Kavil declared, "I am going to go see what I can forage for dinner."

"Do you want any company?" Mr. Ordan asked, setting aside his pack.

Kavil considered the question before shrugging. "Feel free to come along — have you foraged before?"

"I did in my youth," Mr. Ordan said with a faint smile.

The unlikely pair began to search the nearby area and Priscilla watched them with a smile as she sat on the ground, glad to be off the horse to give her thighs a break.

Sulaiman built up the fire as Arnold set up his portable desk for enchanting. Priscilla watched Illnyea stare longingly at Arnold's station for a moment before squaring her shoulders and rifling through her pack instead. Illnyea brought out the complicated technical book about creating magical artifacts they had taken from the cannibal's camp and opened it, flipping through a few pages to where Priscilla spotted a leather bookmark. Sulaiman was finished with the fire shortly, and pulled out his own book to read, shooting Illnyea an amused glance she didn't catch as she stared at the page with furrowed brows. Priscilla sat near Sulaiman as it was quite cold that evening and he radiated heat, even when he wasn't actively using magic. He didn't seem to mind as Priscilla inched closer to steal his warmth.

In the quiet, Priscilla decided to finally work on stitching together the potpourri pouches she had designed. She stretched the fabric across a small embroidery hoop and threaded the needle. First would be Sulaiman's cats were easy since she had stitched cats many times before because they were one of her favorite animals. It had been one of the first things Mr. —— had taught her how to sew . She had gone through a brief phase where she wanted to embroider cats on every piece of clothing she owned to be unique, and Mr. —— had laughed, encouraging her to pose in her clothes so he could take pictures.

"I'll show these to your future spouse on your wedding day," Mr. —— had said with a wide grin. "I just know they're going to get a kick out of this version of you."

Priscilla's fingers stilled for a moment, a sense of longing for Mr. —— so strong it made her chest ache. It hurt to think of him, to think of the future she no longer had with him, but though it stung, it wasn't as debilitating as it once was, tinged more with nostalgia that made remembering bittersweet. She selfishly hoped he got over her disappearance quickly and moved on to be happy without her in his life, but she knew that was a pipe dream. Mr. —— loved deeply, never afraid to open up his heart to accept you, and she knew that love would make her loss hurt even more.

But though he would grieve, she knew that Mr. —— would pull himself back together and learn how to enjoy life once more, even if it would take time. She too would move forward, facing an uncertain future undaunted because she knew that would be what he wanted her to do.

Priscilla let go of her grief as she exhaled, leaning in Asha's warm embrace of her soul, as the artifact tried its best to soothe her, though it couldn't figure out the source of her aches. She threw herself into sewing, losing herself in the repetitive motions.

No one spoke, each absorbed in their own activities, but it was comfortable silence only broken by the crackle from the fire and whir from Arnold's enchanted goggles as he adjusted them to look at whatever he was working on at his desk. Priscilla could feel that he was using a low level of magic, and let the prickle of pain fade into the background.

But the silence was broken as the magic spiked and then abruptly disappeared before Arnold swore. Priscilla glanced up to see that he set a strip of leather aside, looking displeased as he pushed up his goggles. Maybe it was just because Priscilla had just been embroidering a cat, but she thought he had the aura of a cat that had pushed a toy underneath the couch and was displeased it had the audacity to stay out of his reach.

Arnold eyed them, and then squinted at Illnyea, rubbing his goatee.

"What book are you reading, brat?" Arnold asked, and both Illnyea and Sulaiman's head raised. Arnold waved dismissively at Sulaiman. "Not you kid, you're still reading the boring ass biography, I meant the other one."

Sulaiman seemed happy to be dismissed and began reading again like he hadn't been interrupted. Illnyea looked a little hesitant, her fingers tight on the book's pages.

"It's, um." Illnyea swallowed, closing the book to look at the cover. "'A brief examination of the necessity of magical energy for the creation of artifacts.'"

Priscilla crinkled her nose at the obnoxiously long title. It sounded dry as hell and she was amazed that Illnyea had managed to read more than a page before giving up.

"Huh," Arnold said, eyeing Illnyea like he was seeing her in a new light. "Do you understand anything about what you're reading?"

Illnyea bit her lip, glancing away, sounding frustrated as she said, "Not really. I can kind of understand what the author's talking about, but then they use a term I've never heard of and I just have to guess."

Arnold looked thoughtful as he tapped a finger against his desk. Priscilla watched him, prepared to defend Illnyea if Arnold's sharp words teetered towards insulting. Though Illnyea could be sassy on occasion, especially when harassing Sulaiman, she hadn't mastered the casual disrespecting of your elders that Priscilla had perfected.

"You don't seem like the book learning type," Arnold said finally.

"I'm not," Illnyea sighed.

Arnold hummed, rubbing the tip of his nose.

"I'll help you figure that book out kid," Arnold said, "if you'll loan me some magic. I got a few things I want to experiment with, but haven't yet because I don't have the luxury of draining myself dry."

Illnyea's mouth hung open for a long beat before she was scrambling to her feet.

"Yes, yes please," Illnyea said, at Arnold's side in an instant. She held out the open book that displayed a diagram. "What is this supposed to represent? I could figure out that this part was the amount of magic you put in, but then I got lost."

Arnold was stunned by how quickly Illnyea moved but recovered gamely.

"First thing," Arnold said, taking the book from her, "you're totally wrong. This is the amount of ambient magic entering the system, and this part represents the active magic you're introducing into the system."

Illnyea frowned but nodded, her fingers twitching.

Arnold sighed. "Brat, go get pencil and paper and take notes — I do not want to have to explain this twice."

Illnyea scurried to her pack and back, eyes alight with focus and attention.

Priscilla glanced at Sulaiman, who was watching the interaction over the edge of his book.

"Told you she's gonna be a magical engineer," Priscilla whispered, "ye of little faith."

Sulaiman rolled his eyes. "I never said she wouldn't be one, just that she wouldn't read that whole book by herself — which I'm right about."

They quietly bickered if getting hands on help and examples still counted as reading, their reading and sewing forgotten as they argued first over semantics, and then over who Illnyea would make an artifact for first, before wandering to whether or not the animal that best represented Sulaiman was a little black cat — he believed it was ridiculous and weak, but Priscilla thought it suited him perfectly. She showed her stitching, which had captured a cat staring out judgementally, and Sulaiman scowled, which she pointed out only made him look more like it.

By the time Kavil returned, they had tentatively agreed on a black jaguar because while Sulaiman insisted on it being powerful, he couldn't deny that he was prickly like a cat (or perhaps that was just Priscilla strong arming him into agreeing, but, eh, he agreed, so it counted). Sulaiman insisted Priscilla was a fox, which she accepted with a grin because who didn't want to be devious and clever.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. … Kavil enjoyed Hans' company, as the older man insisted on being called when it was just the two of them. Hans was always patient with Kavil, no matter how many questions he asked, and was gentle as he corrected Kavil's many cooking mistakes.

"There's no need to be so formal with me," Hans had said when Kavil pointed out that both Priscilla and Illnyea called him Mr. Ordan. "I've known those two since they were children, it'll be difficult for them to unlearn that formality."

"Is it weird not working for their parents anymore?" Kavil asked.

Hans hummed, tilting his head in a gesture that was half a nod and half a shake. "I spent half my life at that estate, but… the more time I spend away, the more I think I made the right decision."

"What'd you do before you started working there?" Kavil asked, genuinely curious. The former butler was quiet and kind, but had hardly seemed phased when the antelopes and spiders had attacked. Kavil spotted a patch of rosemary and began to collect some as Hans paused. Kavil took enough that their dinner would have flavor, but not so much that the plant couldn't regrow.

"Funnily enough," Hans said, a faint smile on his face, "I traveled with some friends, as you are."

Kavil perked up as he stood. "Who'd you travel with?"

Hans' smile grew a little sad.

"It was my friend Kai that drew me into life on the road," Hans said. "I was the scribe to write down his tales of heroism, and along the way, we met Arnold. He was much worse at enchanting back then, and had an even fouler mouth if you could believe it. It was the three of us for a while, until we met an artist named Kailee, who insisted on helping me document the trouble Kai got into with vivid illustrations."

Hans' voice was wistful as he spoke of his past, but Kavil suspected it was a person Hans missed the most rather than the adventures themselves. Kavil debated asking what happened to Kai, but decided against it because he had a feeling it was nothing good if Hans had spent so many years working for the Thornewoods.

Kavil kept the conversation light as they picked through the plants, asking Hans about how he learned to cook and forage, which were both on the road, and they planned out what to make for dinner, a sort of dried fish stew.

They found a decent haul of fresh herbs, and even a few edible mushrooms, before they decided to head back to camp because it was growing too dark to see and neither had Sulaiman's nifty ball of fire to light the way.

"Find anything good?" Priscilla asked as they returned, and her and Sulaiman both turned to welcome them back. Kavil's eyes darted to her lips as they curved into a smile, and then he forced himself to look her in the eyes.

Once the adrenaline had faded and there was no more apparent threat, Kavil had to face the realization that, on a technical level, he had kissed Priscilla. It was during a mandatory medical procedure, and it wasn't all that romantic, but… his lips tingled with the phantom pressure of her soft lips when she spoke.

It was an annoying development, because Priscilla talked a lot, but Kavil was sure that he would stop thinking about it soon.

Probably.

Okay, maybe, occasionally he thought about what it would be like to actually kiss her, but those thoughts were strictly regulated because those thoughts eventually morphed into wondering what it'd be like to kiss Sulaiman, and that entire line of thoughts was not conducive to Kavil actually being a productive member of society.

So!

Kavil pushed aside all distracting thoughts about his unfortunately attractive friends and began to help Hans cook because that was a nice and safe activity that was not at all suggestive. Of course, when Priscilla enjoyed the food he made with a soft exhalation and groan of pleasure, the thoughts threatened to return, but Kavil was a master of self control and ignored that to ask Illnyea about what she had been working on with Arnold. He didn't understand Illnyea's explanation as it was very complicated, but he nodded like he did because he wanted to encourage her.

They finished dinner (which tasted a lot better with Hans' input than the one that Kavil had made on his own, though that was probably due to the hearty mushrooms, fish, and herbs), Kavil sat with his friends around the fire as Hans and Arnold turned in for the night. They were arranged in a semi circle, with Kavil between Priscilla and Sulaiman and Illnyea across from him.

"So you wanted to know about my parents," Kavil said, turning towards Priscilla.

She straightened and nodded, her face schooled into a rare show of seriousness. He wondered just what had sparked her interest, but he couldn't deny that he liked that she was asking questions about him.

"Well, they were both healers," Kavil said, deciding to start with what he was most confident in, though he didn't know much about his parents. "They traveled where the gods willed them, healing all who they came across as they believed it was their duty. I was around four when they found Aunt Jeroinin's village and they decided to rest there for the winter. Auntie says that they had planned to leave that next summer, but before they could, they died."

Priscilla frowned as she asked, "What'd they die of?"

Sulaiman shot Priscilla a look like he thought she was being too invasive, but Kavil didn't mind. He missed his parents, but in the way you missed an idea of a person rather than concrete memories that bogged you down. It was a nebulous sort of grief because it was hard to grieve a person you didn't know. He had some hazy memories, of course, but only a few that hadn't yet been overwritten by time and distance.

Kavil looked most like his mother, who had skin so dark with sparkling silver tattoos along her arms and legs that it had always reminded him of the night's sky. Her hair was as coily as his, but she kept it braided in hundreds of thin braids she used to let him play with and clumsily style with a reminder to be gentle. His mother was quick to smile and laugh, always trying to make Kavil smile by being silly, and that was how Kavil liked to remember her.

The only thing Kavil had inherited from his father was his copper eyes, though his father's were always more stoic and piercing. His father was fair haired and fair skinned, tall and broad with roughened hands that used to pick Kavil up and toss him in the sky so Kavil could fly like a bird, safe with the knowledge his father was there to catch him. His father hadn't been expressive with the scar that ran across his face, but he had been a steady and comforting presence.

One of the few clear memories Kavil had of his parents was of his mother running a finger along the scar on his father's face. It stretched from above his eyebrow, cut through his always closed eye, and skirted the edge of his mouth and down the curve of his chin.

"Do you ever regret it?" his mother had asked, her dark brown eyes serious as she stared up at his father.

His father had pulled her close, kissing her hairline gently before he whispered, "Never."

Then they noticed Kavil, and he had been pulled up into their arms and peppered with so many kisses that he couldn't help but giggle.

"My mother died of a cancer of the skin," Kavil said, dragging up the memories tainted with sorrow, anger, and confusion because he had been barely more than a toddler trying to understand the concept of his mother dying. "It worsened rapidly, spreading to her lungs and throat, and there wasn't anything anyone could do. I don't remember much because the villagers kept me away so I didn't have to see her like that."

Not that that had worked as well as they hoped it would.

Kavil had snuck in when his father had been sleeping, so one of the last memories he had of his mother was her lying limp in bed, her eyes sunken into her skull. Auntie had given her enough pain medication so she could sleep, but it seemed fitful as his mother's eyes twitched beneath their lids and she breathed raggedly. Her normally smooth skin was an ashen, mottled mess of bumps and unnatural growths along her tattoos, but his father had fallen asleep while holding her hand, cradling it like it was something precious. His father was gaunt, the scar on his face standing out against his hollowed cheeks.

The sight of his beloved mother looking like that had scared Kavil so much that he began to cry.

His father jolted awake, hand going to his hip before his shoulders relaxed, and then he whisked Kavil away, soothing him all the while.

"My father passed away shortly after," Kavil continued, "and Auntie says it was from a broken heart."

That had confused Kavil for the longest time and now it was still difficult to wrap his head around. Kavil had gathered the courage when he turned ten to ask his aunt if his father had actually killed himself, because at least that answer made more sense to.

Aunt Jeroinin had looked at him for a long moment, eyes filled with understanding and another emotion Kavil couldn't name, though it made her mouth tight and shoulders sag.

He could still remember her answer perfectly.

"Kavil," she had said, taking his hand, "your father loved your mother with his entire soul. The love those two shared was the most pure that I have ever seen. When I say that Gaius died of a broken heart, it means that his body could not continue to exist in a world that Elethea did not."

Kavil had come to accept that explanation because his father really had been devoted to his mother. He had wondered if he would ever meet someone who he would love so truly, so purely, that their death would become his own.

Kavil shook off the memories and laced his fingers together. His friends were all staring at him with sympathy. Illnyea's eyes were large and sorrowful, her heart on her sleeve as she grieved for Kavil, and the sharpness in Sulaiman's face had softened as he stared at Kavil's hands. Priscilla was pale, mouth twisted like she regretted asking, and she had the look in her eyes that suggested she was blaming herself.

His friends didn't need to look so sad — he had long come to terms with what had happened.

"Well, after that my aunt raised me," Kavil said, his voice purposefully cheery, "and most of what I know about my parents come from the stories she told me. They only spoke of their travels before the village in broad strokes, and we traveled light, so the only real thing I have from them is my mother's book of herbal remedies. I can show you, if you'd like, though I must warn you my mother's handwriting is atrocious."

He had memorized the remedies by the time he was twelve. But Kavil occasionally read through it to feel closer to her and his father, because his father had occasionally left notes scrawled in the margin in looping handwriting like, "This does not work as intended," "Surprisingly effective," "Add sugar next time or I might throw up," and "Elethea, do NOT feed this to Kavil." It was small things, but on nights where Kavil fantasized traveling the world, he used to pull out the journal and picture a life where he could have added his own notes alongside his father's and experimented with his mother.

"I would," Sulaiman said, and Kavil smiled. Sulaiman wasn't a natural at first aid, but he was dedicated to learning and Kavil was sure this was that dedication showing itself once more.

Kavil fetched the water-proof leather case that he kept the journal in to keep it safe, and handed it to Sulaiman. Sulaiman handled it gently, opening it like it was made of glass, and Illnyea scooted closer to look over his shoulder.

"Do you know if your parents believed in any particular god?" Priscilla asked, her focus remaining solely on Kavil instead of stealing glances at the journal like he thought she would.

Kavil blinked at the unexpected question, tilting his head as he thought.

"I don't know," Kavil said, frowning at the unexpected gap in his knowledge. "They participated in the rituals Auntie conducted, but I don't remember them doing anything more than that."

Priscilla stared at Kavil for a moment longer, her green eyes calculating before she straightened. Tension that Kavil hadn't realized was in Priscilla's shoulders disappeared as she leaned back on her palms with an easy smile.

"What were their names?" Priscilla asked.

"Gaius and Elethea McCue," Kavil said, "though I must ask why you're so interested."

Priscilla shrugged, tossing her hair flippantly. "I just realized there was so much I didn't know about you, and I was curious."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," Kavil said, his voice dropping in pitch as he unconsciously leaned towards Priscilla, "you need only ask and I'm all yours."

Her green eyes flashed as she met his gaze, and Kavil wondered if he had been blatant enough with flirting that it had gotten through to her, so blatant she wouldn't be able to deflect it easily.

"Does this potion really make someone's body temperature so low people think they're dead?" Illnyea asked and the moment was broken as Priscilla's attention was immediately captured by her sister.

Kavil held back a sigh. He was always thwarted when he attempted to flirt whether or not it was with Sulaiman or Priscilla, but he supposed that it was his fault for attempting it in a group setting.

When Kavil looked up, he saw Illnyea quickly hide a grimace. He wondered if she might be the only one of the group that actually understood what Kavil was trying to do, and sweet Gaelea, that would be ironic.

"It is," Kavil said, knowing exactly what Illnyea was asking about, "though the ingredients are hard to come by."

"And where would we find such things?" Priscilla asked, eyes alight with interest. Sulaiman shot her a suspicious look and Priscilla held up her hands. "I am filled with only pure academic interest, don't look at me like that."

Kavil laughed, and began to explain where one might be able to find the millennium snow lotus (which was only actually a century old despite its name). His friends listened with rapt attention, and Kavil spent the night bonding with his friends over his mother's journal.

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