"Quite the mouth on this one," a woman hisses, sliding through the door behind them, "This is the great Allen Minx?"

Allen swings around, blinking at the unfamiliar voice. It belongs to an equally unfamiliar face. Anyone could tell at a glance the woman has discerning eyes and a powerful will. Her warm tawny complexion is embellished by vibrant garments and burnished jewelry. The woman is visibly lithe and athletic, carrying herself with ample confidence. 

"If anyone has a mouth on them," Martin retorts as she continues toward her seat, glaring at the lot of them, "It's you, Nia."

"Nia...?" Allen questions, waiting for an introduction.

"This is General Nia Samrawit," Marcus answers for her, leaving his perch by the window, "Mobile Division."

"Oh?" Allen hums, smiling and turning to Nia, "I'm impressed! Not many could wrest that position away from the Chevalier. It's a pleasure to meet you!" 

"Don't waste your flattery," Nia answers coolly, eying Allen and seeming unimpressed. 

"That's hardly an appropriate way to greet your senior," Ambrose chides as he enters alone, Ghislaine absent for once. They all pause to bow as he strides to his place at the table before finding their way to their own seats. "You'll find Duke Minx too honest for flattery, General Samrawit. A joke or two though?" Ambrose's laughter is almost a hum, "Seems his new hobby." 

Nia presses her lips together but remains silent. Allen glances to the other seats at the table, unsurprised to find so many empty. Most of the kingdom's generals were likely in the field. His eyes slide over the map, the kingdom appearing to have a number of active frontiers but not nearly as many as he had expected. Allen is most surprised to see the border with Ilnid's empire gutted of troops. Most of the kingdom's forces seem to be stationed in Ralgotar's Palm, and the isles further south, or within the rainforests of Luxis' Cradle.

"General Aquila," Ambrose addresses him formally, "What is the news from the Isthmus?"

"No changes, I'm afraid," Marcus' reply is grim, "The Huntsman intercepted another supply run. We're still unable to reclaim the fort and rations are running low in our camps. We can't make a proper drop through the canopy."

Allen watches Gunther's scowl deepen at the mention of the Huntsman, a brutal and mysterious adversary few walk away from. He acts as a guardian over the region and his people, a man of unnatural size and varying forms. They haven't identified his racial magic yet, the intense variety and drastic transformations mystifying their tacticians, but suspect he may be a descendant of Banalkar or even Lunil. It was the Huntsman and his men who took Gunther's arm, his fort and his wife and if the rumors were true, he had crippled Gunther with his bare teeth. He was a plague to the kingdom's southern expansion.

"General Stahlmann," Ambrose looks to Martin as he speaks, "How much longer do you need for preparations?"

"Another week, at least," Martin answers, unhappy with his own answer, "I'm still sorting out a new member for my unit."

"Maybe his replacement won't be such a louse," Nia bites, not seeming to have been fond of Ben.

Allen couldn't shake his own resentment for the boy either, despite feeling a touch of pity for him, and Martin also fails to come to his son's defense. Even Gunther is displeased with the mention of his nephew. 

"What was his position?" Allen questions, drawing Martin out of contemplation.

"Mid-range," Martin is quickly curious and Ambrose's eyes land on Allen as well, "Why?"

Allen is silent, studying the map and terrain. Ambrose recognizes his expression and looses a distinct laugh, catching everyone by surprise.

"When you offered your services," Ambrose speaks with amusement, "I certainly didn't consider that was your intention."

"Well," Allen responds with a smile, "This kind of affair is my specialty." 

"While you were still a soldier!" Martin protests, catching on to his suggestion, "You're not in any shape to fight and you don't have the training anymore!"

"Who said I ever stopped training?" Allen answers carefully, Martin blinking into his claim, but Allen is quick to don a mischievous grin, "We can have a bout if you need proof?" 

"I'll pass on that," Martin declines and gives a bark of a laugh, "I don't need you making a fool outta me at this age!" 

"I might take you up on that," Nia interjects without any ounce of humor, locking eyes with Allen.

"That won't be necessary," Ambrose's voice cuts through the tension, "If this is how you wish to prove yourself, Allen," they hold each others' gazes, "I expect results."

Allen returns to the manor once the meeting concludes, taking on more of his mother's lessons during lunch. Even after a week, he had only just begun. These sessions ranged from managing House business and running their estates to catching up on the politics and major events he had missed, hearing current rumors and covering the status of the other Houses. Every interlocking detail of the life he had abandoned. Evelyn was hard at work in her own way, spending most of her day as a socialite and keeping up with the rumor mills of the capital, even twisting around gossip carefully planted by Ghislaine regarding shifters. In the evenings, Allen attends various social events. Tonight he finds his way to the great hall of Aquila Manor. 

"What is it like, in Nippon?" a young women questions Allen, one of many flocking about him, "Do they truly never show their forms?"

"Those of high status or wealth are quite private in that regard, yes," Allen answers in a neutral tone, struggling to maintain his amicable front as lashes bat at him attentively, "Particularly among the nobility. But this becomes less prevalent in the countryside."

"Is that why you're being so shy with us tonight?" one of the bolder among them chimes, Allen's smile straining, "I've never seen a minx before. I've heard they're quite handsome creatures!"

"When you get to my age," Allen states, giving a significant glance to the woman who was clearly at least half his age, "You may learn there is some value in modesty." The woman appears to choke on her own embarrassment, falling silent, but another is quick to vie for his attention. 

"I see no reason for you to be modest," the second insists, "Any woman would be lucky to catch your eye. You hardly look a day over thirty!"

"You flatter me," Allen forces another pleasant wisp of a smile despite his distaste, "But it would be better to save your compliments for another, more available man," he watches as all of their smiles waver, "My grief is still far too fresh, ladies. A man in mourning makes for a terrible husband."

Marcus' gaze sweeps those attending his elder daughter's return party, catching on Allen as his expression tightens.

"I'm sorry," she hums, her cheery tone opposing this apology, and she gestures for Euan to stop, "This workshop is occupied. Though..." she pauses to look him over with an expression of distaste, "What use could you even have here?"

"Oh, how kind o' ye!" Euan speaks dramatically, not bothering to water down his dialect for the snobby girl, "Tae offer me directions. Am looking fur wan o' yer enchanters-in-training?"

"I think you're confused," the girl titters back unflustered, "These rooms, this floor, is for mages not... whatever it is you are." 

"I can be whitever ye want me t' be," Euan retorts, his tone suggestive, and pauses to look her up and down as she had done, "But I dinnae if yer th' mage Am looking fur. Whit's teal mean? Are ye a nanny, maybe housekeeping?"

"How dare you!" she snaps heatedly, earning a quick smirk from Euan, "It means I am supposed to be here and you are not. We have rules that you are clearly too dense to understand!"

"Oh I love rules," Euan cackles into her tirade, "Thir ma second favorite thing t' break!"

"Lumi!" a voice shouts severely from behind the door, "If you must linger out there you can at least-" her voice grows louder as she stomps to the door but she falls silent after swinging it open, "Oh...!" she breathes, her eyes looking Euan over before landing on his face and she seems to recognize him, "You're that... shadow step guy, right?" 

Fake

"I don't know," Tia languishes, a bit disgruntled, "When I talk to him, there's this weird malaise and he looks as if he's in pain," she gestures with chopping motions, "Then, at the same time, he's laboriously courteous! Why would he bother?"

"You're not used to politics, are you?" Aldric teases and she frowns at him. 

"No," Tia huffs, crossing her arms, "And I hope I never will be! Seriously though," Aldric blinks at her indifference to the fabric of  his life, "Every time I talk to him he gets this strained expression and goes totally stiff. Once again I've done something to offend one of my unit-mates and I have no clue what!"

"Why don't you just ask him?" Aldric suggests.

"I don't think he'll let me?" Tia reasons, her tone uncertain, "He clams up if I veer from anything superficial."

"Well," Aldric surmises, "Perhaps he's trying to hold unit stability above his own feelings?"

"I don't think he gives a shit about that!" Tia stresses, "He fights with another member constantly. When they bicker he doesn't hesitate to get a jab in. This is different. He's polite and considerate," Tia emphasizes, gesturing with her hands, "But it still feels totally fake!"

"Something," Aldric muses, "Has him cornered into polite amiability. Something I am completely familiar with."

"Really?" Tia questions, allowing the conversation to shift to Al.

"Every moment of my life," Aldric grumbles, loosing a sigh, "Honestly, it is an art of its own but it doesn't sound like he's used to doing this either if he's hiding it so poorly."

"Why..." Tia questions, tilting her head, "Do you have to?" 

"It's part of my responsibilities," Aldric answers mindfully, pausing at times to avoid betraying his identity, "Rapport with those around me is critical to success in my... role. Even if I can't stand some of these people, and there are plenty," Aldric's laugh is harsh, "I still need to rely on our ability to work together to maintain stability. I am expected not to let my feelings for someone hinder our working relationship."

"I think..." Tia answers slowly, her gaze drifting in recollection, "I think my dad talked about stuff like that when he told me about his life here, before I was born," Aldric listens attentively as Tia's mind runs through her father's tale, "He had a lot of responsibility and a lot of expectations he tried to live up to but... it made him so miserable he couldn't stay anymore. He said he wasn't the same person back then but I didn't really get it. I don't think I could try to be someone I'm not for very long!"

"You are certainly one of the most straightforward people I have ever met," Aldric chuckles, "Your father sounds far more open about these things than mine."

"Sure, now he is," Tia complains but fondness still creeps into her expression as she talks about her father, "He didn't tell me anything about his life until we moved 'back' to Accia. Even then, he kept all these secrets and acted like everything was fine. I think maybe... it was natural for him like it is for you? It's still so unbelievable that my silly ass dad had this intense and tragic life."

"Silly ass dad?" Aldric snickers, not finding it surprising she was raised by such a bright figure.

"Oh!" Tia exclaims into his laughter, "Please don't feel like you have to do that with me, like, ever!"

"Do... what exactly?" Aldric questions.

"Be fake with me, I guess?" Tia clarifies, "Fake your emotions, our friendship, how you feel about things or pretend your okay with stuff your not," Aldric blinks into her rambling, "I-I guess I just mean that... I'd prefer it if you're straightforward with me too?"

"I mean..." Aldric seems a bit contemplative before he sighs, "I can't promise I won't ever do it," he stifles a smile seeing her displeasure, "I do it all the time! Its a hard habit to shake. But..." Aldric relents, "I will at least make an effort not to do it around you."

"When you say all the time...?" Tia questions with a squint.

"I mean all the time," Aldric emphasizes, "Sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it? Just about every time I talk to someone I'm building a certain impression or relationship."

"That sounds exhausting!" Tia remarks, astonished, "I can't even seem to handle basic interactions."

"You mention that a lot," Aldric notes, "That you 'don't know what you're doing' but I don't think you're as clueless as you think."

"But I am clueless!" Tia insists, punctuating her frustration with a sigh, "You are one of the only people I can maintain a full conversation with without constantly pissing you off or doing something weird."

"I mean, you're still plenty weird," Aldric teases, Tia's face reddening despite her frown, "But I have a long fuse. I put up with some pretty awful people almost constantly. But... It's hard for me to imagine you struggling to befriend those around you, with your personality."

"I've always struggled with this," Tia answers, pulling her knees to her chest and becoming somber, "I've spent so much time alone that... I don't know how things are supposed to work? I don't know what I need to do to make real friends."

"I'm not sure there is one particular way these things are 'supposed to work'," Aldric responds thoughtfully, "Every relationship is different. I mean, look at us. This friendship is pretty unique!" Tia's smile is modest but instant hearing this, "Why are other relationships so different?"

"I mean, its hard to embarrass myself when you don't know who I am?" Tia answers, uncertain herself, "And... this is actually familiar to me."

"Well," Aldric reasons, seeming accustomed to offering advice, "I think if you show this side of yourself more often, rather than trying to make everyone happy, you'll draw friends worth having into your life."

"Couldn't I give you the same advice?" Tia points out, grinning into his confusion, "'Trying to make everyone happy' sounds a lot like what you were complaining about."

"And here you said you were clueless!" Aldric grouses after a gasp, "How can you be so dense and still make connections like that?"

"Being dense," Tia retorts with a measure of amusement, "Doesn't make me stupid!"

"Fine, just let me suggest two things then," Aldric grumbles before doling out more guidance, "First is not to throw in the towel at the slightest hint of rejection. Relationships take time to build and you're going to make plenty of mistakes. Second, try to be more confident in your unique qualities, you have a lot to offer any friendship despite your doubts otherwise."

"Much like your response," Tia answers, beaming despite her blush, "I can't promise but I will make an effort!" They try to maintain serious expressions but quickly dissolve into laughter.

Tia and Yang look back to each other and Yang gives Tia an quiet smile. Tia hadn't spoken to her yet but found Yang imposing, whether this was in regards to her beauty or her chaotic demeanor. However, Ifani taps Tia's shoulder before anything can be said.

"What?" Tia squeaks, flipping around.

"Pair up with me," Ifani states plainly, staring over Tia's shoulder. 

"Us?" Tia responds, pointing between them. 

"Yes," Ifani confirms curtly, her voice carrying a hint of impatience. 

Andrea glares daggers at Tia as she passes by. Tia answers Ifani with a quick nod and a nervous smile before they seek out an appropriate place to spar. The smallest available fields line the eastern edge of the sparring grounds, two of these capable of fitting within the field their unit had battled in. 

"Okay," Tia whispers to herself, "Don't give up and be confident...!" 

A number of weapon racks line the edge of the grounds, offering a variety of enchanted "slip" weapons. Ifani takes her time selecting the right blade while Tia continues trying to psych herself up. When Tia peruses the provided weapons, she is disappointed none of these swords resemble the weapons common to the archipelago she had always admired as a child. She again finds herself nostalgic for any shadow of the culture she grew up within. Tia selects a simple broadsword instead and stands before Ifani, letting all traces of her form fade. 

Ifani observes her movements, allowing Tia to make the first attack. Tia thrusts at Ifani but her strike is easily deflected. Tia assails her again with a slash but her sword swipes through empty air. Unimpressed, Ifani initiates her own series of attacks and it takes all of Tia's effort solely to evade. 

"Last time we fought," Ifani speaks between strikes, "I couldn't figure out what technique you were using." Ifani performs a feint, Tia naturally falling into her trap, and her sword passes through Tia's torso. Ifani takes a step back as Tia sighs in defeat. Ifani continues, "But you weren't using any technique, you're a novice!"

Tia tenses and feels the urge to snap at Ifani with something contrary, to deny or redirect her accusation. Tia takes a breath, trying to keep Al's advice in mind, and reassures herself Ifani's criticism didn't necessarily translate into rejection or worse.

"You're right," Tia concedes solemnly, "I am a novice. I only started training a month ago."

"A month...!" Ifani echoes back in disbelief, "How did someone in your position never learn how to fight?"

"In Nippon," Tia explains as they both prepare to fight again, "I didn't need to-" Tia pauses, the memory of less than pleasant incidents causing her to grimace, "Okay, I do wish I knew how to fight back then but no one ever taught me!" Tia slashes at her, Ifani sidestepping and striking Tia's sword hand with the hilt of her own weapon, Tia's weak grip causing her to drop the blade. 

"I can see that," Ifani derides, taking a step back and gesturing towards Tia, "I mean what are you even doing with your feet?"

"My... feet?" Tia questions, unsure of her point. 

"You're unbalanced," Ifani states, narrowing her eyes at Tia's stance, "And you keep pushing off with the wrong leg! Your strikes are weak and you're wobbling everywhere," Tia pauses to examine her own posture, "Have you even found your center of gravity?"

"I..." Tia's voice trails, "Have no idea what that is."

"Azryth take me," Ifani breathes, producing a facepalm, "You're actually worse than Albert!" Tia frowns, her expression both embarrassed and uncomfortable and Ifani frowns when she picks this up, "You won't get any better if you don't learn this," Ifani asserts bluntly, accustomed to helping Albert in these matters, "Feel out the position where you feel most balanced, where you don't lean in any direction. Practice this in different stances, movements and positions. If you can learn how to keep it up, even while fighting, you'll be more stable attacking and defending." Tia shifts her weight around in response, trying to find her center. After a moment of feeling it out, Tia feels her body cease swaying. 

"Like this?" Tia questions.

"It's a start," Ifani grumbles, leering at her posture, "When you fight," she continues, offering Tia examples of proper strikes, "You need to use your whole body." 

Tia observes as Ifani slides through various stances steadily and meticulously, pausing when achieving a given stance before moving to the next. She braces each step, her balance unwavering and movements precise after endless hours of practice. Ifani is conscious of every inch of her body as she moves akin to a dancer. When she performs strikes, Tia can see her whole body flowing into the movement from toe to sword. She runs through these stances and strikes again at full speed for Tia as well.

"There are different styles and techniques utilizing different kinds of swords," Ifani explains once she's finished, "But you need to learn the basics first. Do you get it?"

"Actually..." Tia answers, almost mystified before growing excited, "I think I do! Everyone else kept babbling or knocking me over," Tia grumbles at the memory, "But you actually make sense!" 

"Of course I make sense!" Ifani replies confidently, her face burning from unexpected recognition. Tia gives a light laugh but it fades before she speaks.

"Um... why are you helping me?" Tia questions, Ifani watching anxiety wash over her, "I-I thought you hated me."

"Is that why you never came back?" Ifani questions, openly miffed. Tia's posture becomes more uncertain and reserved as she raises her voice, "Where have you even been sleeping?" as Tia searches Ifani's face, she is astonished to find concern mixed with her aggravation, "What were you going to do when we leave next week?"

"I... well," Tia mumbles, freezing up under scrutiny. Ifani releases an irritable groan.

"This is what I hate," Ifani proclaims, leveling her sword at Tia again, "Your nervous, wishy-washy bullshit! Where's the spitfire who rallied her allies and tore open my face?"

Tia is left speechless, boggled by Ifani's blunt statement. Ifani becomes more serious into Tia's silence, ending their conversation and lowering herself into position. Tia steadies herself with a long breath, mimicking Ifani's posture first and balancing herself as she had done before. 

Tia begins a series of slashes and jabs, becoming more firm with each strike as she attempts to enact Ifani's instructions. Ifani observes the difference in Tia's movements, already considerably steadier, and almost smiles. Then, as Tia's body lurches forward, Ifani shoves into Tia's gut with her shoulder. Tia wobbles and threatens to tip but rather than finding herself in the dirt, she manages to regain her balance. Unfortunately, Ifani still slashes Tia in her moment of exposure. 

"That was better," Ifani congratulates her, despite Tia's loss, "But you're legs are still backwards!"

Moonlit Reunion

Fatigue weighs heavily on Allen as he returns to his rooms, the tedious day taking its toll on him. Yet, it isn't the exhaustion which leaves him stumbling forward, knees buckling. Mina lingers on his balcony, regarding the valley and appearing almost spectral. Her pearly tresses gleam with the moonlight, swaying about her and revealing a melancholic expression. 

Allen dashes forward at first but freezes halfway to the glass door, his breath catching as doubt takes hold. How could Mina possibly even arrive here, in the capital, through the barrier and on his balcony without anyone's notice? Allen questions if he is dreaming or if his mind has conjured her illusion, no longer able to tolerate her absence. All of this falls away and his mind blanks as she turns, their eyes meeting.

There is yearning in Mina's eyes echoing his own but she also portrays intense anguish and guilt, her posture defensive and closed off. Mina has resigned herself to accept the rage and accusation she believes she deserves. Allen breaks from his stupor, his hands floundering frantically with the lock. Mina braces herself for his worst as the doors swing open, squeezing her eyes shut.

Allen reaches for her but freezes again just shy of contact, terrified to confirm her an illusion. With shaking hands, he grasps Mina's face in his palm. He nearly drops to his knees, flooded with sheer relief and the joy he was too petrified to entertain. Mina is truly here. Without another breath Allen draws Mina into an embrace, clasping her ardently, and can feel her gasp and tremble in response. Allen has to reassure himself twice more before he is convinced she's real. He draws back and cradles her face between his hands, searching her eyes as the tears spilling down her face glisten with an ethereal light. His mouth opens but he fails to find any words for her, still dumbstruck. Despite her own uncertainty, Mina can't help but lean her face into his palm with a troubled expression.

"How are you here?" Allen utters with wonder. Mina's voice fails her as well and she instead peers up at the full moon above them. "Celestial magic?" Allen suggests, his hands dropping from her face.

"Yes," Mina confirms, Allen sliding her hands into his grasp and soaking in her voice, "Allen I-I..." Allen rubs her hands, watching her expression. 

"She told me what happened," Allen speaks gently, his words afflicting pain onto her face despite his tone, "But I still want to hear your explanation."

Allen tugs her hands gently, moving inside. Mina takes a breath before following him into the manor. Allen's rooms are the largest by far, the master suite, and is practically a home unto itself. There are several rooms, all lavishly furnished and decorated. Allen leads Mina into the sitting room attached to the balcony. A door sits on each wall which are cluttered with shelves and decorations. They sit together on the sofa. 

"I don't have the excuses you're hoping for," Mina speaks slowly, her tone dejected and too soft, "Everything that happened that night is my fault. I've failed you as a wife and I failed to protect our daughter...!" Tears begin slipping down her face again. He squeezes her hands and she finds herself scowling at the gesture as she continues, "Why aren't you angry!" 

"I am angry," Allen responds but he appears wounded rather than wrathful, "I'm furious you left us without a word, that you left Tia behind! But..." he cups her face again, "That doesn't mean I've stopped loving you," his hands quiver and his voice is a husk, "I could never...!"

Mina searches his eyes, absent of scorn or resentment. Instead they beg her to relent, to tear down this wall between them. Mina pauses to consider what is safe for Allen to know and sighs when she is ready. 

"I have a curse," Mina speaks carefully.

"A curse?" Allen echoes, poorly masking his trepidation.

"It was meant to protect me," Mina tries to explain but her voice grows bitter, "But it becomes unpredictable when I am in danger. Sometimes... it takes over."

"What does that mean?" Allen questions, still attentive to her explanation.

"If I am in imminent danger I black out," Mina explains and Allen blinks, "The curse controls my body and does what is necessary to keep me safe. I can feel it sometimes or I can try to keep myself out of harms way b-but..." her voice tightens, Mina choking on the memory, "I-I couldn't stop it."

Allen is quiet, contemplating the ramifications of this curse. Tia's account of that night passes through his mind and he understands Mina's implication. He thinks back to any instances Mina was in danger in their time together. Despite the fantastical claim, Allen could not recall a single instance he had ever seen Mina injured, not even a bruise or a scratch. Even in times where she should have been hurt something lucky would occur or she seemed to sense the danger coming. Even the night they fled Nippon it was miraculous they escaped unscathed and unnoticed amid the mayhem.

"I suppose... It's plausible," Allen mutters and gives one laugh, Mina appreciating the sound, "There are stranger legends out there!"

"But curse or not, I still made so many mistakes!" Mina persists, unable to shake her guilt, "I-I should have told you from the beginning." 

"I wish you did," Allen's answer is wan but his voice softens as he continues, "I also wish I had tried harder to speak to you or that I could've chased after you. Most of all, I wish I didn't have this damn imprint," Allen emphasizes, his hand fisting over the concealed mark, "We all could've run together!" they're both silent for several minutes, brooding over their mistakes, "Where have you been all this time?" 

"After that night," Mina answers, still somber from the memory, "I sought out an old friend, outside the kingdom's grasp," Allen's brows shoot up, unaware Mina knew anyone outside Nippon, "The village is past the southern border."

"As long as you're safe," Allen sighs, rubbing her hands, "I want to leave with you so badly...!" he admits, barely audible, "But Tia needs me here."

"That's why I came," Mina states carefully, "Right now, I am utterly powerless to help or protect her in any way," her usually smooth demeanor belies heated frustration, "It's risky... but we may be able to protect her together!"

"What did you have in mind?" Allen questions. 

"I know you're trying to help her using your position," Mina states, earning an appreciative smile from Allen, "But you need to work your way back into the court before you can do anything," Allen nods to her in recognition, "My friend might be able to help you do so more swiftly."

"The friend who took you in?" Allen asks, surprised this figure possesses such influence.

"If you coordinate your activities," Mina explains, "He can help you impress the King... and perhaps more. The two of you can buy me time to set my plan in motion!"

"And how," Allen barely smothers his doubtful tone, "Is he able to do that?"

"Have you heard," Mina asks, "Of the Isthmus of the Huntsman?" 

"That's a very hot topic today," Allen chuckles, "I may have already volunteered my services to that frontier this morning," Allen admits, enjoying the surprise that flashes over Mina's face, "It's the fastest route to impressing Ambrose. The kingdom's primary campaign is against this 'Huntsman' and Ambrose very much wants him dead."

"Yes, I imagine he does," Mina titters, earning some confusion from her husband. Mina can't help but enjoy the opportunity to surprise him for once. "Well, that's very fortuitous," Mina continues with some excitement, "My friend is the Huntsman!" Mina beams into his surprise and it takes Allen a moment to absorb this.

"I'm seeing that risk now," Allen jokes, lacing his words with self-depreciative laughter, "So the plan is for me to betray the kingdom by working with their most reviled adversary in order to get closer to the King?" Mina presses her lips together and nods to him, "What does he get out of this?"

"He wants to prevent the kingdom from advancing further south," Mina explains, "If you can help sabotage their advances, help protect his people, he'll help you earn favor with the King." She watches his face carefully, fearful she may be asking too much of him. 

Allen laughs mildly at himself before answering Mina, "I spent half of my life serving and conquering lands for the kingdom," he frowns at the memories, "It would be poetic to help grind that conquest to a halt now," he dons a far-off expression, "And you're sitting here with me... I must be dreaming!" Allen peers at her as if she might disappear with a blink of his eyes. She glances to the balcony, assessing the night sky. 

"How much longer do we have?" Allen questions, his voice uneven.

"It would be... difficult to leave without moonlight," Mina answers but then laughs, "And Supay may do something really, really stupid if I don't return in time."

Allen is unable to keep the worry from touching his features hearing Mina talk about this mysterious friend, Supay the Huntsman, and she catches the jealous anxiety in his expression. She cups his face this time, offering a comforting smile.

"You don't need to worry," Mina reassures him and searches his eyes, the rest of her words laced with uncertainty, "I'm still your wife... if you'll have me?"

Allen draws Mina to him instantly, kissing her as he had craved since the moment he saw her on his balcony. Allen is ardent and desperate, readily met by her own lusty deprivation, but he remains tender as his arms envelop her. Mina melts into the familiar embrace, her relief marked by a long, trembling breath which slides through her lips. Her spindly fingers slip under his shirt and her ordinarily silken caress presses him to her zealously. The fear and loss each of them had carried over the last month washes away at the other's touch, Mina shivering as Allen runs his hands over her. As he reaches her thighs, Allen grins and scoops Mina up, delighting in the sound of her laughter while navigating them further inside.

Allen's eyes flutter as an immense drowsiness begins to dissipate. Despite the vertigo which still claims his head, Allen is quick to prod the bed beside him. His stomach knots immediately as his fingers graze that same familiar vacancy and he grits his teeth as doubts flood his mind. Had it all been a dream? No warmth remains where his wife had lain beside him. No indication of Mina's presence remains to indicate it was anything more than a fanciful delusion of a grieving widower. 

Allen swings his legs over the bed knowing his mind would allow him no further rest tonight. A haggard sigh slides out of the man but catches as his eyes land on an envelope atop his nightstand. His hand trembles as he reaches for it, uncertain of how much more disappointment he could withstand. Inside the envelope waits a simple letter and a peculiar necklace.