VII

Carry on to Something Better

Highland Field seemed to stretch on forever; a wide, flat expanse with hills and dips that took near miles to elevate or decline just a few feet. Cypress trees littered the field in abundance near the border of Romiet, but grew sparser and sparser as distance grew.

The wind was ever whirling on this flatland. Strange, spindly monsters that looked like scaly blue eggs on two legs hunted horses and rams, and were hunted by buffalo and peryton. The green grass was painted by trails upon trails of brown where the rain struggled to keep up with the wheels, hooves, and boots that marched on this playground.

Amira held the carriage door open, and let the wind blow on her skin, while Fletch kept a watchful eye on her; as if the party wouldn't notice if she were to fall out. There was something uniquely refreshing about Highland air. As the sun beaded down over that never-ending expanse, and wildlife of all shapes and sizes huddled under the same trees for shade, she found herself inspired by feelings that belong to both ends of time: hope for the future, and nostalgia for something long gone.

But as the carriage rode on, and the picturesque port city drew further and further away, something sour permeated in that hopeful air. What once were patches of trodden soil bragging life's influence, became a single sickly brown makeup that spread further and further out from the center path, until, after many miles, it consumed all. First the green of the grass was stained. Then the trees, cypress traded for pine, rotted their leaves and left their wilting branches bare. Eventually, there would be no grass. There would be no trees. There would only be barren dirt, and towers of withered wood.

Amira had long since closed the carriage door when this came to pass, but nearly all inside that vehicle had their eyes transfixed on the window. Everything was too blurry to make out any details, but they could not mistake what they saw, as looming death laid its claim before their very eyes.

"Reckon we're in Chesknot by now," Amira whispered.

Rosellia nodded.

Fletch spoke with an unusual somber. "What happened here?"

Artemis tucked one knee to their chest, and opted to stare at the corner. Alikath kept his pitiful gaze on the window. "More or less? …We did."

"When you live the kind of life I've lead, Kallista, it's easy to build a habit of testing things that are new to you."

"What sorts of things?"

"All things. You test the strength of a door against your glove. You test your weapon in streams colder than it was built to endure. Test the patience of your lover to tolerate your testing. Test your spirit... I've found few things as resilient as the spirit."

"Your own spirit? You speak so generally, as if we all share one."

"Mm. They say human souls are made of sterner stuff than the rest of us- but I can't attest to that. But we all have some to boast for, given that we live today. We were all nomads once- that might be how Akelli's gods wanted us to remain. But we developed. And when that development gave us obstacles unknown to the world- demons so foreign no god could have prepared or guided us, we brandished our pens and wrote our salvation."

"I think spirit has the least to do with that, Zuri. Our bodies and minds carry us in life. The spirit carries us through the after."

"We may owe opportunity to our bodies, and development to our minds, but the natural world is cruel, Kallista. Our bodies did not keep us from being crushed by that cruelty. And even when we stopped living in the natural world, did our minds tell us to strive even higher? What built this castle, sister? ...And yet, we'd have drowned in these man-made demons, were the spirit not twofold."

"You seem to use 'spirit' synonymously with ambition, Zuri. Is ambition twofold?"

"No, it is one. The other is named restraint. Ambition calls us up these mountains; beckons us to invent, and develop, and challenge, and grow. But restraint is the eye that watches when we have trekked too far; it is what binds us to stop, and break down the walls in front of us, that we may live to grow tomorrow."

"...And which spirit are your people missing, Zuri? Ambition, or restraint?"

Not to say that both halves of the spirit do not exist here; but Solevi is not a land of restraint. And here, the fruits of one world's labor are found at their most sickeningly ripe.

The party stepped out of the carriage, one by one, into the crumbling ruins of the city of Graycove. They breathed in, and smelled the dust invading their lungs; mere whispers where great stone fortresses once stood. Now, piles of stacked and restacked trash by paupers desperate for a wall to lay beside.

The sky was grey, and muddy. One could look overhead, and wonder if the specks and shapes above were the drifting islands of Heavenfell, or if the sky had become so dirty that the clouds themselves had come to resemble silt. The ground, all barren dirt, looked either grey or brown depending on the angle. The whole region was flat, with so few buildings or trees that one could see for miles in any direction; but aside from the occasional cluster of tents and one large cabin, there was nothing worth seeing.

The Ambassadors studied the barren around them, and each of them felt their spirits sink just being there. Each, save for one.

"Fascinating- this is Graycove?" Dez cocked his head and observed one pile of crumbled stone. "Are these bricks original, do you know? This could be anywhere from hundreds to-"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Dez," Alikath interrupted, and gestured to the rest of the party.

"Ambassadors, welcome to the heart of the Land District. Our heritage and culture all trace back to the dirt beneath your feet." He pointed at Rosellia and Dez. "Even you two."

Dez seemed to be energized further by that, bending over and sprawling his hands out to observe the crunchy grass.

Rosellia held her arm and shrunk, looking back to Highland Field. "I never made the trek up to Graycove, myself. Though perhaps my charity was sorely needed here. How… long… has it been like this?"

"Chesknot?" asked Alikath. "Whole region's been in decline since… well, since the Elven Kingdom fell. So, what, three thousand years?"

"This is all from the kingdom!?" Fletch gawked. "They haven't rebuilt anything since!? W- why is anyone still living here!?"

A gravelly and grand new voice chimed in from behind. "Because this is where all the fun happens, for those who wait!"

The group turned around, and found a pair of High Elves, both tall and unfittingly beautiful for their environment, approaching them.

The one who spoke, warmly holding his arms out, seemed the elder of the two. He had a long beard kept in a braid that hung down to his chest, while his hair flared up toward the back of his head. His face was wrinkled in just the right spots to convey his wisdom and experience, and boasted sharp features that made him look almost statuesque. His thin eyebrows and curved nose in particular appeared curt, even for an Elf. His sandals disturbed little tufts of dust, not billowing high enough to stain his clothing's frills.

The man behind his right shoulder was clearly the younger. His wavy brown hair hung low to his shoulder blades, a well-trimmed patch of hair on his chin the only accent on his face. His eyes were more circular, the bags beside them insinuating a few too many nights of reckless study more than it did wisdom. Nonetheless, there was a palpable curiosity in his gaze; one that matched Dez quite closely- although he was obviously shyer than the Aarakocra was. He had a pair of glasses hanging out of his shirt pocket, little cracks scratching a triangle from the center of the left lens.

Both elves were wearing scholar's robes; green and gold, the colors of the aforementioned Elven Kingdom. The younger Elf smiled at Alikath, who returned with a grin and a subtle wave.

"And no, of course we've rebuilt since the kingdom fell," The elder Elf went on. "This is a castle town in the making! There are at least, oh, forty or so habitable buildings standing as we speak."

"Dominik," Alikath approached, both hands crossed behind his back. "It's been too long."

"Hardly. The longer you're out and about, the more good work I know you're doing. But the Ambassadors never visit with good news." Dominik laughed, and scratched his neck. "And here you are, come to take a valuable man from me."

"Not by choice, President. If I could go the rest of my career without having to suffer one of your cronies, I would." His eyes darted again to the younger Elf.

Dominik crossed his arms, still smiling. "Bah, you and Alexsei didn't get along because you didn't want to. That man was hilarious, you're a prude."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Alikath and Dominik avoided each other's eyes, their gazes drifting to the floor as frowns loomed on their lips.

"...I am sorry. For your loss," Dominik said. "I haven't had the chance to tell you that."

"Me, too," Alikath looked off at the setting sun. "I think Alexsei was about to retire… he kept bringing up home, toward the end."

Dominik winced. The Elf at his side shrunk behind his back.

"Sorry to interrupt," Artemis broke the silence, "But who are you?"

"Ah, right. Dominik Abramov, at your service. I'm a historian, and President of the Restorationists. But that's more of a hobby nowadays."

"The Restorationists?" Dez asked. "I haven't heard of you."

"I'm sure you have, just not by name," The younger Elf finally spoke up. "We're a group of historians that champion the rebuilding of the Elven Kingdom."

"I thought the Elven Kingdom was lost to time," said Rosellia. "How do you rebuild from nothing?"

"Well, not nothing," Dominik argued. "We know some things about the old kingdom, and we learn more about it every day! You'd be surprised what we discover just by tracing back the origins of traditions from Lyveria and Heavenfell."

"The Elven Kingdom was a place where everyone was treated as equals, and everyone had the freedom to lead the lives they wanted." The younger Elf cleaned his glasses, then put them right back in his shirt. "Everyone wants to return to a place like that. We just have to convince the district to fight for it."

"Not to mention, it's our heritage. But people are too eager to give up- settle for new things." Dominik shook his head, and gestured to Highland Field.

"So if you're the president, are you Viktor?" Dez pointed at the younger Elf.

"Ah- no, My name is Lysander. Actually, I'm a friend of Viktor's. We were waiting for you to arrive so we could talk about him."

"Talk about him?" Alikath asked. "Where is he?"

"He's… gone missing," Lysander stammered, trying to find the right words to soften the blow. "Gone for three days."

"What!? Where?"

"He went into the OneWood last Diciner- said he saw someone." Dominik explained. "I don't know... but he seemed spooked. Thinking back, I should have followed him. But he's normally so capable…"

"We've had search parties looking for him every day since he vanished." Lysander finished, stepping out fully from Dominik's shadow. "I know it's terrible timing, he wanted so badly to meet you all when you arrived."

"Well let's go look for him!" Rosellia puffed up. "Where is the OneWood, we can-"

"Hang on," Dominik warned. "The OneWood isn't somewhere you just walk into, like Viktor did. That place is dangerous- and unnatural. Don't rush in."

"What is the OneWood?" Dez asked. "Is it a forest?"

"We think so." Lysander chuckled, and twirled a strand of hair around his finger. "It's a collection of trees, at least. But it isn't like the Kellian, or Dustlow. It's a dense, and very cleanly shaped mass of living pine trees. They're lined up like they were planted by hand, and- I don't know if you've noticed, but life doesn't like growing in Chesknot anymore. So why we have a forest ten miles out of where we're struggling to build gardens is… unclear."

"Okay. And ye said it's dangerous?" Amira asked.

"It's also hard to say why," Dominik responded. "There are monsters, sure, but there are monsters everywhere. The ones that live in the OneWood don't… look like they belong here. But they also don't leave the forest. Ever. People who venture into the OneWood either come back having seen basically nothing out of the ordinary, or they don't come back."

The party drank in Dominik's words. Alikath held his chin, and looked up at the evening sky. After a moment's contemplation, he consulted his group.

"Okay, we have a choice to make, and I could go either way. The sun's setting, and we've been traveling all day. But every second Viktor spends missing could be the second we need to find him. What do we want to do?"

The party stood in a wide circle, and thought through their dilemma. After a few moments, Amira was the first to speak up. "Seven arms're better 'n one. I say we go in and find 'im!"

"Right now?" Fletch asked. "You heard the man, w-we don't know what kinds of monsters are in there!"

"But Viktor does," Alikath noted. "And he decided it was worth trying."

Fletch nodded.

"But he was wrong," Artemis cut in. "Missing, remember? President admitted it was a bad idea."

"Well, sure," said Alikath. "But it was bad for one person. We can do a lot more as a group."

"It's also about to get dark!" Fletch added. "How many of us here have darkvision?"

Alikath raised his hand, and waited for someone else to raise theirs with him. But no one did. "Wow, really? Figured that was a lot more common."

"We're going into unfamiliar territory. Should try to avoid doing that while we're tired." Artemis crossed their arms. "Need to avoid doing that with any disadvantages, like blindness."

Alikath stared in the direction of the OneWood, just barely able to see the tips of a few pine trees. "You might be right."

"I'm not convinced," Rosellia shook her head. "It's not like we're completely spent, we've had time to rest since our fight in Romiet. I can't imagine Viktor has had the luxury of rest, himself."

"Yes!" Dez agreed. "And we don't have to worry about sight! I know I have spells that can create light, and Alikath can be our eyes for whoever needs it."

"I can also make light," Rosellia nodded.

"It's a few wild animals and some weird trees," Amira held her arms out to the side. "What in the hell are we so scared of? It'd be awfully cowardly of us ta leave a man behind cuz we're bein' cautious."

"N-no, I'm with Artemis," Fletch jumped to grab Amira's arm, and weigh it back down. "You two can make light, fine. But when we find Viktor? Best case scenario is that he's too hurt to move. So Rosellia will have to save her magic so she can heal him. That leaves us with only Dez to light the way- and if you're doing that, you aren't fighting! We don't have seven hands, we have four."

That gave Dez pause. His eyes darted around while he stared at nothing. "I'd be more help fighting whatever we run into out there than I would as a lantern. Maybe we should wait."

Rosellia and Amira stood straight, unmoved.

"I just think yer overthinkin' this."

"Hardly a good first impression to leave on Viktor."

The rest of the group stood against them, their minds just as made up.

"Too risky. If Viktor lasted three days out there, he can manage four." Artemis shook their head.

"We're no good to him dead!" Fletch decided.

"I think we're decided," Alikath broke the circle, and returned to face Dominik. "President, is there room for us in your headquarters?"

"Well, not exactly," Dominik frowned. "I suppose Viktor's room is open, but you'd have to share-"

"They can use mine tonight," Lysander brushed off his robes. "I need to work late, anyway."

"Are you sure, Lysander? That would be perfect."

"Thanks, Lysander," Alikath smiled. "I'll pay you back some time."

"Think nothing of it," Lysander avoided looking at Alikath. "A friend of Viktor is a friend of mine."

Dominik and Lysander led the Ambassadors to the Restorationists' headquarters, a modest study hall that nonetheless looked uncomfortably expensive given the city it called home. Books lined the north and west walls, wooden seats with worn down cushions surrounded tables full of notches. The whole building smelt of smoke, and in multiple spots, paintings of unfamiliar landscapes lined the walls. Each painting was unique, not just in style, but in subject matter; each and every one could have been depicting different worlds. A bending pink meadow parted with a glimmering gold river, a pair of grey mountains, one hanging impossibly upside-down, a grand champion's hall constructed from gears leaking with oil. Different as all these works were, they all shared a certain warmth.

By the time everyone had settled into the quarters, Fletch and Dez realized they both spoke Auran; a language consisting mostly of clicks, trills, and whistles, and were happily chittering to each other in a tongue no one else could understand. Rosellia and Amira leaned against the door to Lysander's room, and watched the boys from a short distance.

"It's kind of cute, isn't it?" Rosellia tilted her head onto her shoulder. "Fletch looks small next to anyone."

"D'ya think he sounds as nervous in Auran as 'e does in common?"

"You know, I never understood that- he's just mimicking sounds he's already heard, isn't he? So why does he always sound so afraid?"

Amira shrugged. "Reckon he does it on purpose?"

Artemis walked up to the girls, a bedroll in their arm, and opened the door. "Probably picks whatever feels right for him."

Rosellia and Amira stared at Artemis as they stepped inside the room. Artemis stared back. "...Coming?"

The girls looked at each other and walked inside with Artemis. Lysander's room was an absolute mess, not that the poor thing had a chance to clean after offering it up. Pages upon pages of parchment scattered around every standing surface, covered with mad scribblings of inane mathematical equations and half-sentences. His desk chair had one broken leg, shoddily repaired by a sheet of fabric and a rope tied around the fracture. Curtains covering the window collected dust, the room hadn't seem the sun in quite some time. Along the wall beneath that window, were three guitars; two of which had broken strings. His bed wasn't even made.

Artemis laid their bedroll out on the floor, and smoothed it down. "One of you can take the bed, I prefer the floor anyway."

"All yours, Rosellia, I'll take the chair."

Rosellia sat on the mattress and nodded. "Thank you, Amira."

Artemis laid on their back, and stared at the ceiling for a minute or two. "...You two think this job is gonna involve a lot of paperwork?"

The girls didn't respond.

"Hope not, personally. Reading's not my strong suit, the letters get all mixed up if there's too many on one page. Bad habit, I need to practice."

Again, silence. Artemis sighed, and sat up to look at Amira. "Her I expect, but do you have to be weird about this, too?"

Amira glared back at Artemis. "I choose my friends carefully, s'all."

Artemis huffed, and looked at Rosellia. "And about you! What's going on with you?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Mean- you won't heal someone when I'm standing next to you? You think I'm stupid enough to shoot you for healing a stranger, or something?"

"I know you aren't going to attack us, Artemis," Rosellia kicked off her shoes in their general direction. "You've been annoyingly clear about that. But I'm not doing anything in front of you."

"Why not!?"

"Because you stopped me from saving that woman's life!"

Artemis threw up their arms. "So what!?"

"So what!?" Rosellia shouted. "I had to sit there and watch her die, Artemis- I- I was on top of her! I felt her skin on my skin when her heartbeat stopped! When YOU killed her! You stopped me from healing her!"

"She was your enemy!" Artemis pointed at their temple. "You just didn't know that yet, I couldn't let the Coalition go!"

"That was my choice- my energy!" Rosellia stood up, leaving one knee on the bed. "You don't get to stop me! And I will send you back to your gang in twenty PIECES if you try again!"

"Rosellia, calm down!" Amira hushed.

"That's what this is about? You're mad I stepped on your coattails? You are so full of yourself!"

Rosellia stepped toward Artemis and raised her fist, setting Amira off. The Goliath stood up, leapt between the two, and picked Rosellia up by the shoulders, lifting her to eye level. "Breathe, woman."

"You put me down, Amira- I-"

"We are guests in these people's home, we're lucky if they haven't already heard you two, I won't have 'em kickin' us out cuz you two destroyed the room tryin' ta kick each other's teeth in."

"Don't defend them, Amira. They don't deserve that."

"But you do," said Amira. "So calm down, 'fore you get all of us hurt, alright?"

Rosellia hung there, her legs dangling at Amira's stomach. She pouted and refused to respond, but Amira didn't put her down. Rosellia rolled her eyes, and took a deep breath in, and out. Satisfied, Amira dropped her back on the bed.

"-Eep!" Rosellia bounced onto her back.

"We're supposed t'be professionals, 'fore anythin' else. We don't gotta be friends, but we can't be enemies, either," She got a quick look at them both. "N' if I have ta beat you both inta cooperation, I will."

Rosellia seethed in place.

Artemis laid back down. "Works for me. I was planning on cooperating with you all, take or leave what you think of me. Leave me out of 'girl talk' all you want- think I prefer you with your guards up."

Artemis scoffed. "I mean, Amira's already in her underwear, maybe you're more comfortable than I thought."

Amira sat down, almost snapping the chair's leg by mistake. "Mazedaar. Goodnight."

Alikath watched Fletch and Dez whistle and twitch at each other for a moment, while he adjusted his pillow to cover just the right spot on his back. He'd tried to cut in and talk to them a couple of times already, but it was like they couldn't hear him. Birds- it's impossible to keep them in the real world.

Alikath looked around the room. Viktor's room. So far, Alikath knew he was the kind of person that would run off into a haunted forest because he 'saw' someone. But outside of that, he knew very little about this scholar. This could be a good opportunity to fix that before they met. After Artemis, Alikath figured he might need to start running background checks before meeting volunteers.

His eyes went first to the desk opposite the door; covered in open books, disorganized papers, and snapped feather quills. Okay, he was a scholar- an obsessive one, maybe. Alikath could put that together by the fact that he was a Restorationist.

There was a stack of paintings, leaning against the leg of that same desk. Alikath could only see one of them, but there were at least four. It looked like… a portrait? Of someone, it wasn't very clear. Alikath didn't want to pick it up and get a better look at it, but it was obviously a very surreal piece. The little sliver of the subject's left half that Alikath saw had bends, curves and colors wholly foreign to Solevi. Did Viktor make it? Did he make any of the paintings hanging on the other walls?

Between Fletch and Dez, there was a dresser, with some sort of herbal remedy sitting atop it. A bowl full of mashed herbs colored green and yellow. Was Viktor sick, or just fragile? Perhaps he was getting on in years. Though, anyone could find themselves getting sick living in a place like Chesknot.

Finally, hanging framed on the wall, not another painting, but a chart. An old piece of parchment with a grid of runes painted in red. Alikath recognized them: this was the Infernal alphabet.

Why did Viktor, or whoever made this, write it the way they did? Sure, it got every individual character, but lining them up like Common letters hardly got the structure of the language across, which functioned on the placement of individual runes relative to one another when you combined them.

Actually, when put that way, it sounded exactly like Common. But- ah, he didn't need to think through his own language, no one was listening.

More importantly, why did Viktor have this chart to begin with? Alikath had his suspicions- he'd have to ask Dominik about it in the morning.

Suddenly, Dez turned to Alikath and started whistling at him. Alikath stared at the Aarakocra, pulling back a little while Dez 'spoke' at him. He squinted, and waited for him to finish his sentence. "I don't… speak that language, Dez."

Dez squinted back, then went wide-eyed and gasped. "Oh my God! How long have we been doing that?"

"About half an hour."

Dez held his forehead, embarrassed. He started laughing, blushing through his hands.

Alikath laughed back, "It's not a big deal, Dez."

"No, you don't get it, I've been talking to you for like five minutes!"

Alikath lost it. Fletch looked at Dez, and racked his own brain to remember how their conversation started.

"You were?" Fletch asked. "I thought we were doing that on purpose."

"W- yeah, at first!" Dez laughed. "I guess I forgot! Oh man, I really thought you were ignoring me!"

Alikath thought for a second, and was hit with a stroke of inspiration. He leaned back in bed, so Dez couldn't see his face. "So you didn't hear a word I was saying to you, either?"

Dez did a double take. "You didn't say anything to me."

Alikath shook his head. "Oh no, I've been talking this whole time, too! I guess you blocked me out, since you were thinking in Auran. Aw, that's a relief."

"What?" Dez furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"Well, you were brushing me off for so long, I wanted to do anything to get you to acknowledge me. I started talking about... oh man, Amira would have killed me."

"Amira?" Dez twitched.

"Yup." Alikath nodded. "Fletch heard."

Fletch cocked his head, but quickly caught on to Alikath's trick. "Oh, yeah!" He nodded. "You shouldn't just say things, Alikath."

"What?" Dez's eyes shot to Fletch. "What did he say!?"

"Yeah yeah, it's alright. Won't make that mistake again." Alikath closed his eyes. "That poor farmer, though."

Fletch nodded, and curled into his corner to go to sleep, too. Dez stood up, confused. "Wait, no-" He held his hand out to Alikath. "What are you talking about? What did she do?"

Neither of them replied. Dez twitched, perched up on Viktor's window, and tried desperately to recall what Alikath told him while he wasn't listening.

It took him two hours to fall asleep that night, and his relationship with Amira would never fully recover.