You stride in solitude down the winding main avenue of Thulrum's inner ring, replaying the directions given by the Church's agent in your mind. Though you've somewhat acclimated to the elegant chaos of Thulrum's streets, you find that traversing them under dim starlight is a different beast entirely. A particularly garish storefront—pointed out as a landmark by the Church's agent—saves you from getting properly lost. You duck under the painted stone arch beside it to enter the shadowed alley which will allegedly lead to your destination.

Without the Everfire lamps and busy traffic of the main streets to distract you, shades of Thulrum's other realm—the one which exists above its skyline—begin to peek through the veil. Darting shadows haunt the flat rooftops of Thulrum's inner ring—easily dismissed as a flight of birds or a rogue gust by the layman's senses, though you know them for what they truly are. Come nighttime, the ridged overhead walkways and belfries of Thulrum's ancient sprawl becomes the domain of the Wardwatch, a shadowy guild beholden by rigorous contracts to the Ishavak Church. Once a guild of assassins operating out of the Parami north, the Church has somehow managed to strongarm the guild's entire command structure into its service. Their alleged charge is to patrol Thulrum from the skies, watching for any signs of unrest and espionage within the city walls. And while you are certain that patrols form a part of their duties, you find it difficult to believe that Tahlia's swept a guild of assassins under her wing and made no use of their most practiced skillset.

You feel their eyes upon you as you round the alley's corner, and pull your mana taut just in case. From what you can gather, their loyalty to Tahlia was secured through unsavory means. The priestess's people seem confident in the firmness of her grip, but you refuse to be caught on the backfoot if the Watch decides to risk breaking free of her yoke.

You only relax your mana once you've made it to cover, provided by a raised walkway which joins the two tenements on either of the alley's sides. The plain wall at its base appears to mark it as a dead end, but as you launch into a series of minor runes the wall begins to glow. As promised by the Church's agent, there's an enchantment there which reacts to your runes. You then walk [i]into[/i] the wall, feeling a cold sensation brush against your skin as the facade falls away.

*page_break

What you find on the other side is a room starkly resembling a noble parlor, with gilded walls and exotic plants lining its perimeter. A large crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the fine white pillars set about the room, each bearing reliefs of abstract design. Towards the chamber's back a wide stairway rises to the second floor in two flights, its mezzanine decorated with a sprawl of oil paintings in the style of Arcadian highworks. Glossy leather seats surround a large square table at the room's center, upon which sits a mess of wine decanters and colorful confections.

Sitting upon the chairs are a group of people—some of them familiar, and some of them not. The tallest among them rises to ${yhis} feet, lips pulled into an easy smile as ${yhe} nods in greeting. "There you are, ${fname}," ${yusuha} says. "I was starting to worry you'd gotten lost."

*choice
    #"I almost did. I could've used a proper guide."
        "Apologies," ${yusuha} says sheepishly. "Saber policy—whenever we head here, we have to do so alone. A necessary precaution, given how high-profile Thulrum's been of late."
        
        "The demand was mine, to be clear," says a dark-haired woman sitting on an ornate armchair, whose fine lines mark her as being somewhere north of forty. A long black pipe snakes out from between her fingers, trailing plumes of smoke redolent with the scent of foreign spices. "It was quite the labor to put this place together. I should hate to be forced to relocate."
        
        You turn to regard her, brows furrowed. "And you are?"
        
        "Mirage, at your service," she answers pleasantly. "I serve as the Saber's logistics specialist, and the [i]ashai[/i] has bid that you be availed of my talents tonight. Such as they are."
        
        "She's being humble," ${yusuha} quips, waving her off. "Mirage studied magic under the [i]ashai[/i] for fifteen years. Her understanding of Arcadian magic is nearly without peer."
    #"Why was I instructed to come here?"
        The question's been niggling at you since the Church agent's visit. Eli is being held out in Reglaire, but instead of meeting at the city gates, you've instead been led to the very heart of the city, deep in the High Ward's residential area.
        
        ${yusuha} looks as if ${yhe}'s been anticipating that very question. "This is the shortest path to Reglaire, ${fname}. Mirage will see to that."
        
        You tilt your head questioningly. "Who?"
        
        "That would be me," says a dark-haired woman sitting on an ornate armchair, whose fine lines mark her as being somewhere north of forty. A long black pipe snakes out from between her fingers, trailing plumes of smoke redolent with the scent of foreign spices. "Mirage, at your service. I have the pleasure of serving as the Saber's logistics specialist, and the [i]ashai[/i] has bid that you be availed of my talents tonight. Such as they are."
        
        "She's being humble," ${yusuha} quips, waving her off. "Mirage studied magic under the [i]ashai[/i] for fifteen years. Her understanding of Arcadian magic is nearly without peer."
    #"Let's skip the pleasantries. We need to get to Eli quickly."
        "Peace," says a dark-haired woman sitting on an ornate armchair, whose fine lines mark her as being somewhere north of forty. A long black pipe snakes out from between her fingers, trailing plumes of smoke redolent with the scent of foreign spices. "We have eyes on the area, and they've assured us that our enemies are digging in their heels. It seems they're in no rush to be quit of Reglaire." She takes a drag from her pipe, then, eyeing you with a half-lidded gaze. "I understand your concern for your friend, but undue haste will only place ${ehim} in the way of greater harm."
        
        You give her a sharp look, scowling. "And you are?"
        
        "Mirage, at your service," she answers pleasantly. "I serve as the Saber's logistics specialist, and the [i]ashai[/i] has bid that you be availed of my talents tonight. Such as they are."
        
        "She's being humble," ${yusuha} quips, waving her off. "Mirage studied magic under the [i]ashai[/i] for fifteen years. Her understanding of Arcadian magic is nearly without peer."
        
*choice
    #"You're an arcanist as well, then?"
        Mirage shakes her head. "Alas, no god lives in my head. I lack the requisite bloodline," she explains. "But even without phantasma, Old Arcadian magic far outstrips its modern counterpart. My tutelage with the [i]ashai[/i] has allowed my magic to move closer to that ideal form."
        
        In the chair beside her, ${falco} taps ${fhis} feet impatiently. "She casts some fancy spirit gates. Allows us to cross halfway to Reglaire in one go."
        
        *label balkat
        You balk at the statement, eyes wide.
        *if (spiritism > 74)
            You consider yourself a master spiritist, but such a feat would still be beyond your capabilities. A quick mental calculation tells you that, even if you were to push yourself to the limit, it would still take you at least five castings of the spell to close the same distance. To say nothing of the breaks you would need to take to avoid mana exhaustion.
        *else
            If ${falco} speaks truth, then Mirage's capabilities would put those of even a master spiritist to shame. A quick mental calculation tells you that, even if one were to be pushed to the limit, it would still take them at least five castings of the spell to close the same distance. To say nothing of the breaks they would need to take to avoid mana exhaustion.
            
        Mirage notes your surprise and clears her throat before speaking. "There are gateways built into the second floor of this parlor, built painstakingly in collaboration with the [i]ashai[/i] and other members of the Saber. Each gate is bonded to a  matching pair elsewhere in Arvanand, and I am able to leverage that bond to widen the distance of my spirit gates."
        
        "There's a paired gate in the abandoned fort en route to Reglaire," says ${yusuha}. "Mirage has already cast the spell, but for it to be properly primed, we'll need to wait—"
        
        Mirage raises a hand, and ${yusuha}'s explanation trails off. "You need wait no longer. I sense that the spell is now complete," Mirage says, smiling. "I shall send you on your way. But first, I believe introductions are in order."
    #"How are you going to get us to Reglaire?"
        Mirage shakes her head. "That city falls outside the scope of my direct influence," she says. "You will need to finish the trip yourself, but I am able to shorten your travel by half."
        
        In the chair beside her, ${falco} taps ${fhis} feet impatiently. "She casts some fancy spirit gates. Allows us to cross halfway to Reglaire in one go."
        
        *goto balkat
    #"You were her student for [i]fifteen years[/i]? Just how old is Tahlia?"
        "My, that's quite rude," Mirage says, mirth glimmering in her eyes. "It is a question shared by many, though I daresay you're the first to have vocalized it so bluntly."
        
        You consider her for a moment. "Is it your intention to avoid the question?"
        
        "I can provision you with no answer, in any case," Mirage says. "I must suppose that she has sipped from the fountain of youth, for she looks exactly as she did when I first began my apprenticeship." Mirage pauses, her eyes taking on a nostalgic look. "I was but a young girl, then, and barely learned in the ways of magic. But I have grown—enough that I can be of assistance to your mission."
        
        In the chair beside her, ${falco} taps ${fhis} feet impatiently. "She casts some fancy spirit gates. Allows us to cross halfway to Reglaire in one go."
        
        *goto balkat

The three figures seated on either side of her obligingly rise to their feet. They are all of them clad in black combat gear, nursing in their hands the finely-crafted masks which mark them as Sabers.

Taking in the lot of them now, you're struck anew by the mission's tall order. With six pairs of boots on the ground, Tahlia expects to see the stronghold of a mysterious force raided, a prisoner freed, and new leads unearthed. This was the sort of work you would be smart to walk away from; the fact that none among the three betrayed even a hint of doubt or nervousness regarding their orders speaks highly of the Saber. Whether that meant strength, discipline, or blind faith in their leadership remains to be seen.

"Your callsigns, and combat specializations," ${falco} orders plaintively. "Let ${them} know what to expect."

The firsts to introduce himself is a familiar face: Senz, the man who had seen to your recovery following your resurrection. "You know my by another name, but in the Saber, I am called Specter," he says. "I'm a spiritist first and foremost, though it's embarrassing to claim that in Mirage's presence. I can also do a bit of theurgy in a pinch, as you know, though my capacity there is limited."

"Always with the false modesty, Specter," chides the woman beside him. The frizzy updo she's pulled her ginger hair into bobs up and down with every shake of her head. "He's no miracle healer like your Eli is, but he's better than he lets on. Anyway, I'm Razor. Fastest girl in all of Saber, and not half bad of an alchemist, either. All my poison coatings are homebrew. I make the deadliest Thaylian Kiss this side of the Yerefan."

The last to respond is a behemoth of a man, standing taller than even ${yusuha}, his bulging muscles peeking out from behind the gaps of his mail. "Colossus," he says, by way of introduction. "Front-line fighter. I'm good with any weapon, but axes are best. I draw all the attention, so that the squishy ones can do their work in peace."

"And he'll never let you forget it," Razor says dryly.

${falco} scoffs beside her. "As well he should, with how much unnecessary trouble you get yourself into." Razor whips her head around and snarls at ${falco}, looking ready to throttle ${fhim}. The younger mage ignores her, instead turning ${fhis} gaze on you. "You're to address me as Zealot while we're out on the field," ${fhe} says. "This is my mask—mark it well."

The mask he presents to you bears a grotesque, demonic face, its features pulled into a contemptuous grimace. The design is instantly eye-catching—it should make the mage instantly recognizable to you even in the thick of battle. Unlike the others, ${falco} doesn't apprise you of ${fhis} fighting style—evidently, ${fhe} deems ${fhis} display during the caravan incident appropriately representative.

Ignorant to your shared history, Razor pipes up in ${falco}'s stead. "$!{falco}'s an arcanist—conjures snakes from ${fhis} back that spews some foul brew of poison I'm still trying to replicate," she says. "And ${fhe}'s a good spiritist, much as I loathe to admit it. Specter was the one who showed ${fhim} the ropes—time was that the old man was the only person ${fhe}'d listen to."

Specter makes an offended noise. "Razor, I'm only [i]thirty-three[/i]."

She shrugs. "Like I said: positively ancient."

"Let's try not to come to blows," ${yusuha} sighs, before turning to regard you. "You've seen me in a fight, but I'll lay it all out just in case. You can think of me as a particularly good thaumer. My arcana only holds dominion over the element of wind, but on my own I'm also pretty good with a broad array of thaum spells." $!{yhe} then shows you ${yhis} mask—one that bears a fox's visage, with painterly red streaks over a smooth white surface. "I go by Fox in the field."

*if (alias)
    ${falco} gazes at you discerningly, as if considering something, before letting out a sigh. "${fname}," ${fhe} says, the sound of it stilted, "commit all of this to memory. Knowing your allies and what they're capable of is the first step to ensure our collective survival." ${falco} meets your gaze, and it's firm, but not hostile—it seems ${fhis} grievances with you have been tabled for the time being. "Your life is in the palm of my hand, just as mine is in yours."
*else
    "Commit all of this to memory, ${fname}. Knowing your allies and what they're capable of is the first step to ensure our collective survival." ${falco} meets your gaze, and it's firm, but not hostile—it seems ${fhis} grievances with you have been tabled for the time being. "Your life is in the palm of my hand, just as mine is in yours."

Colossus, having apparently picked up on the tension between you, gives you an appraising look. "We [i]can[/i] count on you, right?"

*choice
    #"You don't need to worry. Your cause is just, and I give my aid freely."
        *set ryusuha %+ 5
        *set rfalco %+ 5
        Colossus nods at that, seemingly reassured. Beside him, ${yusuha} flashes you a lopsided grin. "Good to have you on board, ${fname}. I know our methods aren't exactly pristine, but the cause is well worth it." Unease creeps onto ${yusuha}'s features as ${yhe} says this, one that puts you to mind of Tahlia's execution of the captured assailants. Its appearance is fleeting, at any rate, and ${yhe} quickly assumes ${yhis} jovial tone once more. "I'm glad we're in agreement on that."
        
        "Pleasant words," ${falco} grumbles quietly. "It remains to be seen if you'll stay true to them."
        
        *label mirageturns
        Mirage turns to regard ${fhim}, her brows furrowed. "Yours has always been a barbed tongue, but this hostility is beyond the pale, even for you," she says, clicking a finger against her pipe. "If there is something ${they} @{pronvar has|has|have} done to deserve such blatant ire, then I would hear it."
        
        ${falco} scoffs at her words. "Do you think yourself some kind of schoolteacher?"
        
        Mirage shoots ${falco}—functionally her commander—an unimpressed look. "Will you keep acting like a schoolchild?"
        
        "Tch. Enough of your prattling, we've business to see to," ${falco} says, waving her off. "I'll get straight to the point, ${fname}:
        *goto ashai
    #"Don't you have faith in your own [i]ashai's[/i] call?"
        Colossus tilts his head at that. "You make it sound as if you are leashed. Like the Wardwatch."
        
        "I am, in a manner of speaking," you accede. You are yet uncertain of what keeps the Wardwatch tethered to Tahlia and her Church, but your own cooperation is in fact a matter of life and death. "So you may trust that I will pull my weight, if only to serve my own ends."
        
        Colossus nods, seemingly reassured. "This is good. I am eager to see you in a fight."
        
        "You may well find yourself on the wrong side of it, once our cause no longer suits ${them}," ${falco} grumbles.
        
        *goto mirageturns
    #"I'll do everything in my power to see Eli freed, I can promise you that."
        Colossus nods. "There is history between you," he says, his tone sympathetic. "We will rescue your friend."
        
        Beside him, ${yusuha} shakes ${yhis} head softly. "That Eli certainly has you wrapped around ${ehis} finger, hasn't ${ehe}? A @{yvar guy|girl} can't help but to feel jealous," ${yhe} says. "But all the same, it's good to have you on board. The stakes being what they are, we really need you at your most motivated."
        
        ${falco} shifts ${fhis} stance, uneasy. "Though you have to wonder: what happens when that motivation expires?"
        
        "A worry for another mission," ${yusuha} declares. "Our interests are aligned for now—let that be enough, ${falco}."
        
        ${falco} tightens ${fhis} jaw, but presses no further. "Fine," ${fhe} says. "Then I'll get straight to the point, ${fname}:
        *goto ashai
    #I nod grimly. More than anything else, I just want to get this over with.
        *set charming %- 10
        Colossus picks up on your dispassion, and appears to be a second away from pressing the point. ${yusuha} rushes to intercept his words, assuming ${yhis} trademark veneer of friendliness all the while. "I'm glad that we can rely on you," ${yhe} says, deftly avoiding the elephant in the room—that your action constitutes an apathetic surrender, rather than a meaningful assent to Arcadia's goals. "I'll watch your back out there. You can count on it."
        
        "You're making it sound like ${fname} can't take care of ${themselves}," ${falco} says, crossing ${fhis} arms.
        
        "I think @{pronvar he's|she's|they've} earned a little grace, given everything we're putting ${them} through," ${yusuha} replies, waving a hand dismissively.
        
        "Do as you please. Just don't let it get in the way of the mission."
        
        "Wouldn't dream of it."
        
        ${falco} turns ${fhis} back on ${fhis} companion, instead aiming ${fhis} attention towards you. "I'll get straight to the point, ${fname}:
        *goto ashai

*label ashai
*temp highestschool ""
*temp multibranch false
*temp secondhighest ""

*comment FINDING HIGHEST SCHOOL
*if (thaum >= alchemy)
    *if (thaum >= spiritism)
        *if (thaum >= enchantment)
            *comment thaum is highest
            *set highestschool "thaum"
            *goto highestschoolset
        *else
            *goto thaumnot
    *else
        *goto thaumnot
*else
    *goto thaumnot

*label thaumnot
*comment thaum confirmed not highest
*if (alchemy >= enchantment)
        *if (alchemy >= spiritism)
            *set highestschool "alchemy"
            *goto highestschoolset
        *else
            *goto thaumchemynot
*else
    *goto thaumchemynot

*label thaumchemynot
*comment thaum and alchemy confirmed not highest
*if (enchantment >= spiritism)
    *set highestschool "enchantment"
    *goto highestschoolset
    *comment thaum, alchemy, enchantment confirmed not highest
*else
    *set highestschool "spiritism"
    *goto highestschoolset

*label highestschoolset
*comment FINDING SECOND HIGHEST SCHOOL
*if (highestschool = "thaum")
    *if (alchemy >= enchantment)
        *if (enchantment >= spiritism)
            *set secondhighest "alchemy"
    *comment alchemy confirmed not highest
    *if (enchantment >= spiritism)
        *set secondhighest "enchantment"
    *else
        *set secondhighest "spiritism"

*elseif (highestschool = "alchemy")
    *if (thaum >= enchantment)
        *if (enchantment >= spiritism)
            *set secondhighest "thaum"
    *comment thaum confirmed not highest
    *if (enchantment >= spiritism)
        *set secondhighest "enchantment"
    *else
        *set secondhighest "spiritism"

*elseif (highestschool = "enchantment")
    *if (thaum >= alchemy)
        *if (alchemy >= spiritism)
            *set secondhighest "thaum"
    *comment thaum confirmed not highest
    *if (alchemy >= spiritism)
        *set secondhighest "alchemy"
    *else
        *set secondhighest "spiritism"

*else
    *comment (highestschool = "spiritism")
    *if (thaum >= alchemy)
        *if (alchemy >= enchantment)
            *set secondhighest "thaum"
    *comment thaum confirmed not highest
    *if (enchantment >= spiritism)
        *set secondhighest "enchantment"
    *else
        *set secondhighest "spiritism"

*comment FINDING MULTIBRANCH
*if (secondhighest = "thaum")
    *if (thaum > 68)
        *set multibranch true
*elseif (secondhighest = "enchantment")
    *if (enchantment > 68)
        *set multibranch true
*elseif (secondhighest = "alchemy")
    *if (alchemy > 68)
        *set multibranch true
*else
    *comment secondhighest = "spiritism")
    *if (spiritism > 68)
        *set multibranch true

the [i]ashai[/i] has already informed us broadly of the scope of your powers.
*if (multibranch)
    You specialize in ${highestschool}, and are quite proficient in ${secondhighest}," ${fhe} says. "Further, you've formed a contract with ${phant1}, though circumstances are such that you'd be hard-pressed to call upon @{phantvar his|their|his|her} powers."
*else
    You specialize in ${highestschool}—so much so that all your other sills can only be described as [i]neglected[/i]. Concerning lack of versatility, but you're undoubtedly one of the best
    *if (highestschool = "thaum")
        thaumers
    *elseif (highestschool = "alchemy")
        alchemists
    *elseif (highestschool = "enchantment")
        enchanters
    *else
        *comment highestschool = "spiritism"
        spiritists
    in the world." Here ${falco} pauses, and when ${fhe} speaks again ${fhis} tone has grown grave. "Finally, you're in contract with ${phant1}, though circumstances are such that you'd be hard-pressed to call upon @{phantvar his|their|his|her} powers."
    
A cursory glance about the room reveals that none of the others are shocked by the revelation. Evidently, they'd been kept abreast of your status as an arcanist ahead of the mission. You do, however, recognize a hint of confusion around what ${falco} had deemed your [i]circumstances[/i], though Senz—that is, Specter—doesn't share in it. As your primary carer following the resurrection, he must be privy to the intense damage that's been caused to your mana ducts as a result of your arcana overuse. Tahlia's further commented that your bond with ${phant1} falls shy of true compatibility. You had only been able to access @{phantvar his|their|his|her} arcana through sheer talent and brute force, and the process has done no favors for your mana veins.
    
It was instinct that bade you avoid calling upon ${phant1} during the attack on Arrival, and following the day's events, Tahlia made the recommendation official. You are to avoid calling upon ${phant1}, or risk unbinding the [i]aresei[/i] which tethers you to this world.

*if (charming > 50)
    You nod in confirmation of ${falco}'s words, ignoring Razor and Colossus's inquisitive glances. "Yeah, that pretty much covers it."
*else
    You pay no mind to the inquisitive glances Razor and Colossus shoots your way, and to ${falco} you merely grunt in the affirmative.

"Sure, great. I'm told that with Eli's help, you'll be able to use arcana again in due time. Until then, you're support. Keep to the back rows with Specter, stay out of the enemy's striking range."

"We'll need a callsign for you, as well," ${yusuha} adds. "Hardly wise to be shouting your true name in the thick of battle."

*if (alias)
    You nearly flinch at ${yhis} words—${yhe} must know that ${fname} is but an alias, and ${falco} had alluded to as much. But you sense no malice in ${yhis} tone. You wonder whether you ought to credit the strength of ${yhis} character or ${yhis} acting.
    
    Regardless, given the Saber's seemingly cloak-and-dagger nature, you did think something like a callsign would become a necessity. Having had time to consider your options—and having mentally prepared yourself to juggle three identities at once—you find yourself gravitating towards one.
*else
     Given the Saber's seemingly cloak-and-dagger nature, you did think something like that would become a necessity. Having had time to consider your options, you find yourself gravitating towards:
     
*choice
    #Demon
        *set callsign "Demon"
        *goto postcallsign
    #Firebrand
        *set callsign "Firebrand"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (mask = "plain") #Fool
        *set callsign "Fool"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (mask = "venetian") #Noble
        *set callsign "Noble"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (mask = "flame") #Phoenix
        *set callsign "Phoenix"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (mask = "dragon") #Dragon
        *set callsign "Dragon"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (mask = "helmet") #General
        *set callsign "General"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (mask = "flower") #Hemlock
        *set callsign "Hemlock"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if ((mask = "veil") and (gender != "male")) #Widow
        *set callsign "Widow"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if ((mask = "veil") and (gender != "female")) #Widower
        *set callsign "Widower"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (gender = "male") #Prince
        *set callsign "Prince"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (gender = "female") #Princess
        *set callsign "Princess"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (gender = "nonbinary") #Heritor
        *set callsign "Heritor"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (phant1 = "Satiel") #Judge
        *set callsign "Judge"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (phant1 = "Airas") #Jester
        *set callsign "Jester"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (phant1 = "Gweila") #Druid
        *set callsign "Druid"
        *goto postcallsign
    *if (phant1 = "Nyx") #Reaper
        *set callsign "Reaper"
        *goto postcallsign
    #Nightingale
        *set callsign "Nightingale"
        *goto postcallsign
    #Calamity
        *set callsign "Calamity"
        *goto postcallsign
    #My callsign is something else.
        *label inputcallsign
        What callsign will you go by?
        *input_text callsign
        You'll go by $!{callsign}?
        *choice
            #Yes, that sounds good.
                *set callsign "$!{callsign}"
                *goto postcallsign
            #On second thought...
                *goto inputcallsign

*label postcallsign
"${callsign}, huh? Got a nice ring to it," ${yusuha} grins. "That should be everything we need, then. Let's get to it—we've got a healer to save."

Mirage assents to ${yhis} words and sweeps out towards the stairway, pipe-smoke trailing behind her. Following in her footsteps, you soon find yourself on the parlor's second floor. The space is dark and circular, with a high ceiling that comes to a needle-like point. Rising along its perimeter are a dozen narrow-framed doors of identical shape and make, engraved with arcane runes so ancient that the spellwork escapes your understanding. Mirage throws open one of these doors and strides along the flame-lit walkway on its other side, which culminates in a stone platform bathed in an arcane glow. A stone arch stands proudly at the platform's center, violet shadows clinging to its surface like stubborn hands gripping a cliff's edge.

With a wave of Mirage's hand, a massive spell circle blazes to life at the archway's base. The violet shadows bleed into the arch's cavity, coagulating there to form a spirit gate. Power pulses from its depths, the likes of which you've never felt from such a spell.

"The path to the old fort is open," Mirage proclaims, gesturing towards the arch.

"Thanks, Mirage. This will save us a lot of trouble," ${yusuha} says. "The rest will be up to our spiritists."

"From the old fort to Reglaire…I'm not looking forward to being on the brink of mana exhaustion, I must admit," Specter says, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. "I should count myself lucky that ${falco} will be there to share the burden."

*temp spiritspecial false
*if (specialty = "Spiritism")
    *set spiritspecial true
*if (spiritspecial)
    *choice
        #"You already know spiritism is my specialty—I can help."
            *label spiritpath
            *set ryusuha %+ 5
            *set rfalco %+ 5
            For a brief second, ${falco}'s furrowed eyebrows unwind and rise in mild surprise. It is another second before they fall back into place, though ${fhis} permanent scowl had mellowed out, tempered by something that might have passed for relief.

            After a beat of acute silence, ${yusuha} nudges on ${yhis} partner's shoulder. "Repeat after me, Zealot. [i]Thank you, ${callsign}. Turns out you're not so bad after all.[/i]"

            The white-haired mage only rolls ${fhis} eyes. "Specter and I can handle most of it. You only need to step up when we ask you to."

            "That's about as close to a 'thank you' as you're liable to get from ${fhim}, I'm afraid," ${yusuha} says with a shrug.
            
            "It is my wish that you will one day discover your manners, Commander," Mirage says, faintly amused. "But I've digressed. Go, then, before the Gate expires."
            
            *label teethgrit
            ${falco} grits ${fhis} teeth, but does as she bids. The others move to follow ${fhim}, disappearing one by one into the spirit gate's gloaming depths. You bring up the rear, feeling that chilly pinprick on your skin as you cross over. Your consciousness wanes, stretched thin as the gate carries you leagues away from Thulrum, and then the darkness takes you entirely.
            *goto outforce
        *selectable_if (alchemy > 64) #"If mana exhaustion is the fear here, I have some Mana Recovery Potions with me."
           *label alchemypath
           *set ryusuha %+ 5
           *set rfalco %+ 5
           ${yusuha} raises ${yhis} eyebrows at you, though ${yhis} surprise slowly melts into an easy grin. "Managed to sneak in a little alchemy while building your shop, have you? You've been busy," ${yhe} remarks mirthfully. "Given how busy you we kept you during Arrival, I thought you'd take the opportunity to rest. Shows what I know."
           *choice
               #"Can't help it. I'm not fond of idling around."
                   "I wouldn't let that reach the [i]ashai's[/i] ears, if I were you," ${yusuha} laughs. "Surefire way to get overworked, like poor ${falco} here."

                   "Regardless, I'm happy you've chosen to step up this time," Specter says cheerfully.
                   *goto manaexhaust
               #"I knew you'd ask me to do something like this sooner or later. Couldn't hurt to be prepared."
                   *set optimistic %- 15
                   "Industrious, aren't you? Not a bad quality at all," ${yusuha} says. "I wouldn't let that reach the [i]ashai's[/i] ears, though, if I were you. Surefire way to get overworked, like poor ${falco} here."

                   "Regardless, I'm happy you've chosen to step up this time," Specter says cheerfully.
                   *goto manaexhaust
               #"They were intended to be merchandise, so I expect to be duly compensated."
                   "That seems fair," ${yusuha} says. "The Saber is always wanting for Mana Recovery Potions, at any rate. If you're in need of consistent custom, the Church offers fair rates."
                   
                   "We can talk shop another day. For now, I'm happy that you've chosen to step up," Specter intercedes cheerfully.
                   *goto manaexhaust
        *selectable_if (enchantment > 64) #"I can transfer some of my own mana if worse comes to worst."
            *label enchantmentpath
            *set ryusuha %+ 3
            *set rfalco %+ 3
            "Glyph of Magesong, huh?" ${yusuha} ponders. "It's good insurance should we be desperate enough to need it, but I hope we won't. It'll cost you much more in mana than what ${falco} and Specter stands to gain. And we still need you in top form in the likely case of a fight."

            "Still, it's reassuring to know that we have a failsafe," Specter says agreeably. "I'm sure ${falco} appreciates it as well."

            Predictably, the white-haired mage says aught, choosing instead to brood in silence.

            "It is my wish that you will one day discover your manners, Commander," Mirage chides, sounding faintly amused. "But I've digressed. Go, then, before the Gate expires."
            *goto teethgrit
        #"Then let's get started."
            *label alright
            "Alright," the red-haired mage says simply, stepping forward into the gate. The others move to follow ${yhim}, disappearing one by one into the spirit gate's gloaming depths. You bring up the rear, feeling that chilly pinprick on your skin as you cross over. Your consciousness wanes, stretched thin as the gate carries you leagues away from Thulrum, and then the darkness takes you entirely.
            *goto outforce

*else
    *choice
        *selectable_if (spiritism > 60) #"I have some experience with spirit gates. I can help."
            *goto spiritpath
        *selectable_if (alchemy > 60) #"If mana exhaustion is the fear here, I have some Mana Recovery Potions with me."
            *goto alchemypath
        *selectable_if (enchantment > 60) #"I can transfer some of my own mana if worse comes to worst."
            *goto enchantmentpath
        #"Then let's get started."
            *goto alright
        
*label manaexhaust
"No one is fond of mana exhaustion, but I'm particularly…challenged. Your potions will save me a great deal of trouble."

"Not that we don't have any of our own, of course," Razor says, pulling out a couple vials of yellow liquid from her belt. Mana Recovery Potions of her own, though the orange film on the surface betrays its quality—a few grades inferior to yours. "But we went through our stock during the Arrival incident, and what little we have left, we've had to split with the decoy group heading to Calinger."

"We'll see about maintaining a more robust stock moving forward," ${yusuha} adds sagely. "In any case, we should be good to go now. Mirage?"

"The Gate is primed," she answers simply. "You need only step into it."

"Right, then. Wish us luck!"

${yusuha} does as Mirage bids, and the rest of your party move to follow ${yhim}, disappearing one by one into the spirit gate's gloaming depths. You bring up the rear, feeling that chilly pinprick on your skin as you cross over. Your consciousness wanes, stretched thin as the gate carries you leagues away from Thulrum, and then the darkness takes you entirely.

*label outforce
*page_break

"The knights are out in force, and more appear to have gathered since our last intel. Even with arcanists among us, I rather mislike our odds."

Razor speaks in hushed whispers as your party gathers upon the knoll, a generously foliaged patch of land overlooking Reglaire Castle. You had some reservations about setting up a recon base so close to the hostile faction, but you now have to concede that Razor's recommendation was on the money. Cover is plentiful here under the ancient, drooping boughs and brambles, and cast with moonlight filtering through the leaves, your forms strike a picture no different from that of tree trunks.

Of course, finding safe cover is hardly the most difficult part of this mission.

"We were always going to be at a numerical disadvantage. So long as we play our cards right, this changes nothing," ${yusuha} replies as ${yhe} casts an appraising gaze at the castle's stalwart walls. Reglaire Castle is not the fortress Sienan Keep was, all iron gates and cold limestone, but the sleek black structure is still imposing in its grandeur. The Salantir preference for minimalistic and elegant architecture means that it will likely be a straight shot to the dungeon, where Eli is kept. A boon for you, in some ways, but it also means that it will be all too easy for the soldiers to hunt you down if they've been alerted to your presence.

"The threat level was manageable, but this has the feel of a job just waiting to go awry," Razor replies.

"Getting cold feet?" ${yusuha} asks, quirking a brow questioningly. "That's unlike you."

The rogue only heaves a long sigh. "I don't know. It may very well be the case that we can spirit gate our way in and out, but…I've got a bad feeling about this."

"And you're welcome to it, as long as you don't let it interfere with our work," ${falco} says matter-of-factly. "We've overcome worse odds before, Razor. You'd best pull yourself together."

The ginger-haired woman responds with a withering glare, but sagely decides not to press the point further. "Fine," she grumbles.

"There is one thing I find rather curious, however," Specter says beside her. The man's breath is still heavy—understandably so given the successive spirit gates he's had to cast for the last stretch of the journey. To his credit, his eyes remain sharp and alert. "Though the dungeon is teeming with knights, the holding cell where our friend is kept has but a single guard. Isn't that the case, Razor?"

The rogue purses her lips, considering. "Yeah, I don't like that part one bit, either."

"It would take a lot of skill to hide themselves from Razor's surveillance, but that only makes this situation all the more dangerous," Specter continues. "It makes no sense to organize the guard in this way…not unless you're preparing an ambush."

*choice
    #"You worry too much. They just think no one will make it past the knights."
        *set optimistic %+ 15
        "I hope you're right on that count," Specter says, his tone uneasy. "At the risk of sounding old and jaded, though, I rather think your words carry the sheen of undue optimism."
        
        "We could all use a little bit of that optimism right now, though," ${yusuha} says. "There's only one path forward, and we have to take it. With conviction to spare."
        
        "I still don't like this, but…you're right," Razor sighs. "Zealot and Specter will need a few hours' rest at least before they'll be back in fighting form. If we bide our time too long on top of that, we may well surrender both the cover of night and the element of surprise." She purses her lips, then, considering. "And there's no telling what they'll do with Eli in the meantime. We'd best hurry if we want ${ehim} to keep ${ehis} head."
    #"An ambush, on top of being outnumbered? This is a recipe for disaster."
        *set optimistic %- 15
        "For lesser fighters than us, perhaps," ${yusuha} says. "I think we've been a bit too eager to beat ourselves up."
        
        "There is merit to being careful," Specter says, his tone uneasy. "We stand much to gain from this mission's success, but should Thulrum lose us here—whether to death or to imprisonment—it would be a devastating blow indeed."
        
        "I'll make sure it doesn't come to that," Colossus grunts, smashing a fist against his open palm."
        
        "How reassuring," Razor mutters dryly. "In any case, I fear this discussion is moot."

        Specter glances over at her. "How so?"
        
        "You and Zealot will need a few hours' rest at least before they'll be back in fighting form. If we bide our time too long on top of that, we may well surrender both the cover of night and the element of surprise," Razor says. The rogue appears to consider her words carefully before continuing. "And there's no telling what they'll do with Eli in the meantime. We'd best hurry if we want ${ehim} to keep ${ehis} head."
    #"Stop wringing your hands already. Ambush or not, we need to get Eli out!"
        *set emotional %+ 15
        "I share your concern for ${ehim}, of course," Specter says, adjusting his spectacles. "But ${ehe} hardly stands to gain if we walk in unprepared and die before we ever reach ${ehis} cell. We need to think this through."
        
        "We don't have that luxury," ${falco} parries matter-of-factly. "Say the ambushers [i]are[/i] there, hidden somewhere even Razor can't sense. What can we even do? Set up camp by the castle gates, hope they crawl willingly out of the woodwork?"
        
        "I have to agree with the brat on that one," Razor sighs. "Time is not a resource we can waste."
        
        Colossus surveys the distant, pitch-black horizon. "Daylight will still be long in coming."
        
        "But Zealot and Specter will need a few hours' rest at least before they'll be back in fighting form. If we bide our time too long on top of that, we may well cede both the cover of night and the element of surprise," Razor says. The rogue appears to consider her words carefully before continuing. "And there's no telling what they'll do with Eli in the meantime. We'd best hurry if we want ${ehim} to keep ${ehis} head."
    #"Let's err on the side of caution, and trust in Eli's ability to defend ${ehim}self."
        *set emotional %- 15
        "There is merit to your words," Specter agrees, adjusting his spectacles. "I should think ${ehim} clever enough to hide the full extent of ${ehis} capabilities. And so imprisoned though ${ehe} may be, ${ehe} may yet be able to outmaneuver ${ehis} captors. Enough to survive for a while longer, at the very least."
        
        "Even if that's true, I don't see how just waiting around here serves any purpose," ${falco} parries. "Say the ambushers [i]are[/i] there, hidden somewhere even Razor can't sense. What can we even do? Set up camp by the castle gates, hope they crawl willingly out of the woodwork?"
        
        "I have to agree with the brat on that one," Razor sighs. "Time is not a resource we can waste."
        
        Colossus surveys the distant, pitch-black horizon. "Daylight will still be long in coming."
        
        "But Zealot and Specter will need a few hours' rest at least before they'll be back in fighting form. If we bide our time too long on top of that, we may well cede both the cover of night and the element of surprise," Razor says. The rogue appears to consider her words carefully before continuing. "And there's no telling what they'll do with Eli in the meantime. We'd best hurry if we want ${ehim} to keep ${ehis} head."

${yusuha} is silent for a long while, but eventually nods ${yhis} approval. "Then that's how it has to be. We'll make our move just as soon as Zealot and Specter've recovered their—"

"Wait," ${falco} cuts in. "We've yet to discuss what happens after. Assuming there's an ambush and we manage to dispatch it, there's still an entire platoon of knights waiting in the wings. If our skirmish draws their attention…"

${yusuha} looks about ready to tear ${yhis} hair out. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Damn it all…there really is no way around this, is there?"

"There is," ${falco} says, ${fhis} gaze hard through the demon mask's eyeslit. "Zephyros. It'll get us in and out in one piece."

${yusuha} goes very, very still. When ${yhe} speaks again, ${yhis} voice comes accompanied with incredulous laughter. "You can't be serious, Zealot."

"I've never been more so in my life."

*choice
    #"Just so we're clear—am I supposed to feel this lost right now?"
        *set charming %+ 15
        "It's ${yhis} arcana," ${falco} says impatiently. "Zephyros is to ${yhim} what @{phantvar Great Intercession|Arc of Inception|Avatar|Soultaker} is to you."
        
        "You know a great deal about my arcana."
        
        "The [i]ashai[/i] keeps us apprised," the white-haired mage says frankly. "In any case, Zephyros is an immensely powerful spell. Enough to take most of the knights out of commission."
        
        "Kill. [i]Kill[/i] is the word you're looking for here," ${yusuha} says, nails digging into the palm of ${yhis} hands. "Zealot, I can't approve of this."
        
        "Then you may well be signing our death warrant," ${falco} says, crossing ${fhis} arms. "All to save some glorified bandits who've been ravaging the very people we've sworn to defend."
    #"Great, so you've found a way. Let's get to it already!"
        *set emotional %+ 10
        *set optimistic %+ 10
        ${yusuha} casts ${yhis} gaze downward. "It's not that simple."
        
        "It [i]is[/i]. You're the one making it complicated," ${falco} hisses. "You've always been this way, Fox. Your arcana is wasted on you."
        
        "That's what it is, then?" you interject. "Zephyros is ${yhis} arcana?"
        
        "At its most powerful," ${falco} replies, still glaring daggers at ${fhis} red-haired companion. "Zephyros is to ${yhim} what @{phantvar Great Intercession|Arc of Inception|Avatar|Soultaker} is to you."
        
        "You know a great deal about my arcana."
        
        "The [i]ashai[/i] keeps us apprised," the white-haired mage says frankly. "In any case, Zephyros is an immensely powerful spell. Enough to take most of the knights out of commission."
        
        "Kill. [i]Kill[/i] is the word you're looking for here," ${yusuha} says, nails digging into the palm of ${yhis} hands. "Zealot, I can't approve of this."
        
        "Then you may well be signing our death warrant," ${falco} says, crossing ${fhis} arms. "All to save some glorified bandits who've been ravaging the very people we've sworn to defend."
    #They'll explain it even if I don't ask. Let them talk.
        *set charming %- 15
        *label silent
        "You need to get your priorities in order," ${falco} says, tapping ${fhis} feet impatiently. "I've tolerated your bleeding heart as best as I can, but our lives are on the line here. I won't let you gamble with them just so you get to stay on your high horse."
        
        "And what about [i]their[/i] lives?" ${yusuha} demands. "You're willing to scatter them to the winds—[i]indiscriminately[/i]—just for us to get an edge?"
        
        "You know what they've done, what they're complicit to," ${falco} counters. "They'd have spared no thought for you, were the tables turned. And just as well—they'd be fools to waste their arcana, when it's powerful enough to remove their opposition."
        
        "Kill. [i]Kill[/i] is the word you're looking for here," ${yusuha} says, nails digging into the palm of ${yhis} hands. "Zealot, I can't approve of this."
        
        "Then you may well be signing our death warrant," ${falco} says, crossing ${fhis} arms. "All to save some glorified bandits who've been ravaging the very people we've sworn to defend."

"It is clear that no agreement can be brokered here," Specter says judiciously, positioning himself between the arguing pair. "So let us take it to a vote. I should think the rest of us are owed a say as well, given our own lives are also on the line."

Both ${yusuha} and ${falco} whirl their gazes on the older man, and what protests brewed on their tongues died before they were vocalized. "Fine," ${falco} says begrudgingly.

Specter nods, his expression grim. "Then two options are availed to us. Either we use Spirit Gates and risk getting ambushed and cornered, or we use Zephyros to blow the front door open and fight our way through."

Razor presses a hand to the back of her neck, clearly disquieted. "You're putting us on the spot, old man," she says. "I still need to think about—"

"Then think. Quickly, if you can," Specter says. "Zealot and I need time to recover, as you yourself pointed out. Let us reconvene and make the decision afterwards. Fox, I trust that you'll respect the group's decision, even if you don't agree with it?"

${yusuha} looks away, then, and though ${yhis} expression is hidden by the mask you can feel the reluctance and apprehension radiating off ${yhis} form. "Yes," ${yhe} confirms, despite it all.

"Good. Three hours should be all Zealot and I need," Specter says, satisfied. "I suggest you all get some rest as well. Whatever path we end up choosing, let us ensure we have the strength to follow through with it."

With a flick of his hand, the mage erects an invisible wall of magic around the knoll. Just like the one you'd constructed back in the Esteram Forest, you note. It appears that field survival practices remain unchanged whether you're a vagrant mage or a member of Thulrum's secret society of mages and assassins.

Specter plops himself down on the grass and leans against a solidly-built tree. He falls into repose within seconds, and ${falco} joins him after shooting one last glare in ${yusuha}'s direction.

"I'll scour the perimeter one last time," ${yusuha} says at length, though the both of you know full well that there is nothing to be found but cold air and shivering trees. $!{yhis} gaze is fixated on Reglaire Castle, on the outcropping of wall that Razor identified as the path to the dungeon. You can see ${yhis} ploy for what it is: a last-ditch effort at reconnaissance, at unearthing a method that endangers neither ${yhis} allies nor ${yhis} enemies.

*choice
    #I find it admirable. Few would go to such great lengths in consideration of hostile parties.
        *set noble %+ 15
        Fewer still, you imagine, among the Saber. It is likely that the @{yvar man|woman} has received no small amount of derision for
        ${yhis} compassion. It only makes ${yhis} commitment to it all the more commendable.
    #I'm glad there's someone within the ranks to temper the worst of the Saber's excesses.
        *set optimistic %+ 15
        Given how much of a linchpin the Saber is in Tahlia's plans, you imagine its personnel generally accept depravity as an inevitability. That there yet remains someone to curb their crueler tendencies is a good sign—both for the Saber itself, as well as the larger cause they serve.
    #I worry ${yhis} idealism will get us all killed somewhere down the line.
        *set optimistic %- 15
        ${yusuha}'s post is that of co-commander, meaning that ${yhe}'ll be in charge of making a lot of similarly pivotal calls moving forward. Even should this mission end well for you, who's to say your luck will hold? You rather mislike the thought of being the casualty from which ${yhe} finally learns ${yhis} lesson.
    #I find ${yhim} exasperating. There should be a limit to one's naivety.
        *set noble %- 15
        It takes a special brand of foolishness to behold such an overwhelming numerical disadvantage and worry for the opponent's odds of survival. It is an admirable thing to show compassion and grace, but the battlefield is hardly the appropriate place for it.

"I'll join you, ${yusuha}," Razor pipes up suddenly, pushing herself off the tree she had been leaning on. "Colossus, ${callsign}, you go on and get some rest. We'll come back soon."

They do not wait for an answer, and are both out of your sight within seconds.

Colossus lets out a snort behind you and quietly shrugs off his broadaxe, already making himself comfortable on the bed of grass. You follow suit, and it is no time at all until sleep claims you once more.
*page_break
…

*if (alias)
    *set fname "${realname}"

*page_break
[i]"I don't know what's wrong with you today, ${fname}."[/i]

[i]Your tutor looks down on you with a foreign expression on his face—[i]disappointment[/i]. You had been his star pupil all year long, all impressive firepower and perfect control, but he now looks at you as if you'd spat in his dinner.[/i]

[i]"This[/i] thing[i]," he says, dangling the string of interlocked golden squares with his fingers, "is no armlet, as I'm sure you can see. You've wasted valuable Satyran gold, I will have to fail you in Alchemy, I'm afraid."[/i]

*temp cry false
*choice
    #I protest his verdict. I made a mistake, but [i]failing[/i] me is hardly proportional.
        [i]"Sir, this is my first mistake since I first began training under you," you reason. "I think you should cut me some—"[/i]
        
        [i]"I don't wish to hear it, ${fname}," he snaps. "These are thoroughly unacceptable results for a Royal Apprentice. You've done all my hard work a disservice."[/i]
        
        [i]You wonder at the choice of words—[/i]hard work[i], he says, when he made no effort to translate his spells and theorems into materials an apprentice could conceivably understand. That you were able to manipulate Satyran gold at all is by virtue of Sister's guidance and supplementary lessons—and you daresay you'd learned more from her than from this overpaid fop.[/i]
        
        [i]Regardless, the man prattles on about the importance of 'putting in the work', and how he could only rise to his current position through the sweat of his brow. Never mind the fact that his ducal blood all but guaranteed him an important position in the Grand Duke's palace.[/i]
        
        [i]His spiel is interrupted by a gentle knock on the study door. Eli peeks ${ehis} head into the doorway, ${ehis} brows furrowed in a display of worry. "Is everything alright?"[/i]
        
        [i]"Perfect," the tutor says, gathering his things and making to leave. "[/i]You[i] take care of ${them}. I have no more patience for this incompetent and ${their} useless little [/i]armlet[i]."[/i]
    #I cry. I've worked so hard, and a single mistake's made it all come undone.
        *set cry true
        [i]You found the subject of alchemy to be particularly challenging, as it required you to know by heart a wide breadth of materials as well as the permutations which result in combining them with alchemical spellwork. Sister had to give you her extensive notes on the subject, and Eli stayed up all night to help you devise mnemonic techniques. It feels as if you have failed them both—and that your own hard work has all been for naught.[/i]
        
        [i]The court magician covers his ears as you begin your wail in earnest.[/i]

        [i]"Stop it, child," he hisses through gritted teeth. "This behavior is unbefitting of a Royal Apprentice!"[/i]

        [i]A thundering of footsteps, and Eli peeks ${ehis} head into the doorway, winded from ${ehis} run. "${fname}, what's wro—"[/i]

        [i]"Perfect," the tutor says, gathering his things and making to leave. "I have no more patience for this incompetent. [/i]You [i]take care of ${them}, and ${their} useless little[/i] armlet[i]."[/i]
    #I sigh and accept my fate. Such is the price of failure.
        [i]The man takes your quiet acceptance as casual blitheness, and his scowl deepens into a grimace.[/i]
        
        [i]"How dare you, @{pronvar boy|girl|child}? You think you're too good for this?" he snaps. "Gifted though you may be, your talents are but air if you don't take advantage of your them. Listen and apply—do[/i] not[i] get smart with me."[/i]
        
        [i]Your defense spills out of your mouth out of reflex. "Sir, I was just—"[/i]
        
        [i]"That's enough," he hisses, and though the man has the constitution of a grapevine, the harsh set of his jaw is intimidating all the same. "I tire of you, ${fname}. Perhaps if you had properly studied your alchemy instead of [/i]talking back to me[i], you'd have made a half-decent armlet instead of this [/i]scrap.[i]"[/i]
        
        [i]You bite back the indignant protests already making their way up your throat. For all that you had your share in the mistake, it is still rich of him to berate you so when he was lacking as a teacher himself. After all, the man had made no effort to translate his spells and theorems into materials an apprentice could conceivably understand. It was by virtue of Sister's supplementary lessons, and Eli's willingness to help you devise mnemonic techniques, that the gold had bent under your manipulation at all. But telling him as much is sure to make him cause a bigger ruckus, and you'll not suffer the embarrassment of being considered by the court as immature.
        
        Regardless, the man prattles on about the importance of 'putting in the work', and how he could only rise to his current position through the sweat of his brow. Never mind the fact that his ducal blood all but guaranteed him an important position in the Grand Duke's palace.[/i]
        
        [i]His spiel is interrupted by a gentle knock on the study door. Eli peeks ${ehis} head into the doorway, ${ehis} brows furrowed in a display of worry. "Is everything alright?"[/i]
        
        [i]"Perfect," the tutor says, gathering his things and making to leave. "[/i]You[i] take care of ${them}. I have no more patience for this incompetent and ${their} useless little [/i]armlet[i]."[/i]

[i]The man leaves in a huff, and Eli takes his place by your side. $!{ehe} takes in the sight of the golden metal, fashioned into a stringy chain of interlocked squares, and understanding dawns upon ${ehis} features.[/i]

[i]"Don't listen to him, ${fname}," ${ehe} says, giving you a reassuring smile. "It's not useless at all. Look, it's a nice armlet, see?"[/i]

[i]The older @{evar boy|girl} drapes the golden chain across[/i]
[i]${ehis} wrist, wrapping it twice, three times around. It is a valiant effort, by all measures, but at the end of it all the 'armlet' clatters uselessly onto the table as a tangled mess of gold. "Um."[/i]

*temp laugh false
*temp meh false
*temp angry false
*temp stopcry false
*choice
    *if (cry) #Cry harder.
        *set cry true
        *label crypath
        [i]"Wait, wait, ${fname}! No, it was my fault, see? I got it wrong," ${ehe} says, holding ${ehis} hands up in panic. Then, with a glint in ${ehis} eyes that speaks of [/i]epiphany[i], ${ehe} instead drapes the golden chain around ${ehis} neck, the clasp fastening with a soft clink.[/i]

        [i]$!{ehe}'s made it a necklace. A gold chain necklace.[/i]

        [i]And it's [/i]hideous[i].[/i]
    *if (cry = false) #[i]Now[/i] I start crying.
        *set cry true
        *goto crypath
    #I laugh, against my will. Eli's confused face is too funny.
        *set laugh true
        [i]A hesitant smile blooms across the older @{evar boy|girl}'s features as[/i]
        [i]${ehe} scratches at ${ehis} cheeks bashfully. "I'm glad you're feeling better, ${fname}," ${ehe} says. "But I mean it—your armlet isn't useless…"[/i]

        [i]$!{ehe} looks scrutinizingly at the golden chain, then, and with glint in ${ehis} eyes that speaks of [/i]epiphany[i], ${ehe} quickly drapes the implement around ${ehis} neck. The clasp fastens behind ${ehim} with a soft clink, and the @{evar boy|girl} looks up at you with a grin that is at once expectant and satisfied.[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe}'s made it a necklace. A gold chain necklace.[/i]

        [i]And it's [/i]hideous[i].[/i]
    *if (cry) #I try my best to stop crying. I hate making ${ehim} worry.
        *set cry false
        *set stopcry true
        [i]With no small effort on your part, your ear-splitting wails gradually weaken into meek, breathy sobs. Eli gently pats your back as you reel your emotions in, ${ehis} lips tugging upwards into a hesitant smile. "There, ${fname}, it's alright," ${ehe} says. "I mean it—your armlet isn't useless…"[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe} looks scrutinizingly at the golden chain, then, and with glint in ${ehis} eyes that speaks of [/i]epiphany[i], ${ehe} quickly drapes the implement around ${ehis} neck. The clasp fastens behind ${ehim} with a soft clink, and the @{evar boy|girl} looks up at you with a grin that is at once expectant and satisfied.[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe}'s made it a necklace. A gold chain necklace.[/i]
        
        [i]And it's[/i] hideous[i].[/i]
    *if (cry = false) #I shrug. I refuse to let that demon of a tutor's words affect me.
        *set angry true
        [i]You stare indignantly at the study door, tight against its jambs where your tutor had slammed it shut on his way out. You'll be twice, three times the mage he is, you swear it. You'll become indispensable to the Grand Salantir court, and when he is finally forced to play sycophant, you will be all too happy to remind him of this day.[/i]
        
        [i]"It's good that you're not taking his words to heart, ${fname}," Eli says beside you. "And you really shouldn't, I mean it—your armlet isn't useless…"[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe} looks scrutinizingly at the golden chain, then, and with glint in ${ehis} eyes that speaks of [/i]epiphany[i], ${ehe} quickly drapes the implement around ${ehis} neck. The clasp fastens behind ${ehim} with a soft clink, and the @{evar boy|girl} looks up at you with a grin that is at once expectant and satisfied.[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe}'s made it a necklace. A gold chain necklace.[/i]
        
        [i]And it's[/i] hideous[i].[/i]
    *if (cry = false) #I shrug. Things didn't work out this time, but I'll learn from the failure.
        *set meh true
        [i]You give Eli a nonchalant shrug, and the @{evar boy|girl} returns the gesture with a hesitant smile. "It's good that you're not taking his words to heart,[/i]
        [i]${fname}," ${ehe} says gently. "And you really shouldn't, I mean it—your armlet isn't useless…"[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe} looks scrutinizingly at the golden chain, then, and with glint in ${ehis} eyes that speaks of [/i]epiphany[i], ${ehe} quickly drapes the implement around ${ehis} neck. The clasp fastens behind ${ehim} with a soft clink, and the @{evar boy|girl} looks up at you with a grin that is at once expectant and satisfied.[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe}'s made it a necklace. A gold chain necklace.[/i]
        
        [i]And it's[/i] hideous[i].[/i]
*choice
    *if (stopcry) #I cry again.
        [i]Eli bites ${ehis} lower lip in a nervous tic as your wails begin in earnest once more, ${ehis} knuckle white where it grips against the necklace.[/i]
        *goto crypath2
    *if (cry) #I cry even [i]harder[/i].
        [i]Eli practically jumps out of ${ehis} seat as your wails double in volume, ${ehis} knuckle white where it grips against the necklace.[/i]
        *label crypath2
        [i]$!{ehe} speaks in low, urgent whispers then, all stammered apologies and panicked assurances, though you can scarcely hear ${ehim} through your tantrum.[/i]
        
        [i]$!{ehe} spends the better part of the day trying to calm you down, bribing you by turns with candied apples and pastries spirited from the kitchen. It would take hours for ${ehis} efforts bear fruit, but your sobs are eventually rendered pliant by ${ehis} gentle coaxing.[/i]
        
        [i]You vividly remember how the air smelled of the older @{evar boy|girl}[/i]
        [i]that day—the scent of wet earth and juniper trees—just as well as you remember the tired, tranquil smile ${ehe} gives you as you slip into sleep's embrace.[/i]
    *if (laugh = false) #Okay, [i]now[/i] I can't help but to laugh. $!{ehe} looks ridiculous!
        [i]Your sudden laughter nearly makes ${ehim} jump out of ${ehis} seat, but ${ehe} soon tentatively joins in the laughter, bashfully scratching at ${ehis} cheek.[/i]
        
        [i]Despite your repeated insistence that [/i]yes, you're really alright now and ${ehe} can go back to ${ehis} swordsmanship training,[i] Eli remains at your side for the rest of the day. $!{ehe} somehow spirits candied apples and golden pastries from grouchy old Lumia's kitchen, and you find that ${ehis} gentle, expectant smile is as difficult to defy as ever. $!{ehe} uses the same weapon to coax you into slumber, motioning for you to sleep on ${ehis} lap, just like old times.[/i]
        
        [i]You vividly remember how the air smelled of the @{evar boy|girl}[/i]
        [i]that day—the scent of wet earth and juniper trees—just as well as you remember the tranquil smile ${ehe} gives you as you slip into sleep's embrace.[/i]
    *if (((meh) or (laugh)) or (cry)) #I try to smile, at least. $!{ehe}'s doing ${ehis} best, bless ${ehim}.
        [i]Eli returns your forced cheer with a serene smile, ${ehis} hand tentative where it pats against your back—as if you might launch into another tantrum if ${ehe} wasn't careful with you.[/i]
        
        [i]Despite your repeated insistence that [/i]yes, you're really alright now and ${ehe} can go back to ${ehis} swordsmanship training[i], Eli remains at your side for the rest of the day. $!{ehe} somehow spirits candied apples and golden pastries from grouchy old Lumia's kitchen, and you find that ${ehis} gentle, expectant smile is as difficult to defy as ever. $!{ehe} uses the same weapon to coax you into slumber, motioning for you to sleep on ${ehis} lap, just like old times.[/i]
        
        [i]You vividly remember how the air smelled of the @{evar boy|girl}[/i]
        [i]that day—the scent of wet earth and juniper trees—just as well as you remember the tranquil smile ${ehe} gives you as you slip into sleep's embrace.[/i]
    *if ((meh) or ((laugh) or (stopcry))) #I sigh in resignation. $!{ehe}'s means well, if nothing else.
        [i]Eli blissfully mistakes your tired amusement for good cheer, and you don't really have it in you to correct ${ehim}. The older @{evar boy|girl}'s[/i]
        [i]touch is a familiar weight as ${ehe} lightly pats your head, and you lucidly wonder just who is it that the gesture is [/i]really[i] meant to comfort.[/i]
        
        [i](Despite it all, a single look at ${ehis} contented smile is all it takes for the jab to die in your throat.)[/i]
        
        [i]Eli spends the rest of the day willfully ignoring your repeated insistence that [/i]yes, you're really alright and ${ehe} can go back to ${ehis} swordsmanship training[i], choosing instead to spirit candied apples and golden pastries from the kitchen in a bid to lift your spirits. You find that ${ehis} gentle, expectant smile is as difficult to defy as ever, and ${ehe} uses the very same weapon to coax you into sleeping on ${ehis} lap, just like old times.[/i]
        
        [i]You vividly remember how the air smelled of the @{evar boy|girl} that[/i]
        [i]day—the scent of wet earth and juniper trees—just as well as you remember the tranquil smile ${ehe} gives you as you slip into sleep's embrace.[/i]
        
*page_break You wake.
*goto_scene Checkpoint_7-2