The talk about what to do for getting out of Haven has largely gone in circles for the past hour.

  There are four arguments being made. First, we look for this Gauntlet again. The idea caught on among the younger members of Haven, and some of the older Wolf Pups, who are experienced pathfinders, but it’s shot down hard by Einar and Rann. There is no concrete proof of its existence, but there are stories of people escaping the Abyss, and they had to get out somehow. As we know now, the cliffs may well be concave all the way around, which makes climbing out far more difficult, so a path out of the Abyss makes more sense.

  Second, rebuilding the crane. We have the blueprint, after all, and we can gather the materials to build it. The problem is getting the materials up there, and the fact that I’d be rebuilding it by myself. I am not an experienced carpenter in any way, and I’d have to make hundreds of trips up and down, up and down, ferrying materials up with whatever I can carry on the way up. Although the artisans of Haven support this and say they’d happily train me, the one person who rejects this notion is, surprisingly, Ingrid. She declared the construction as unfeasible and a waste of resources, and expressed her doubts that I could build a functioning crane on my own. Which hurts a little, but I see her point.

  The third idea is sending me to ask for help. We know there are people up there, we just don’t know where. The obvious problem is that whomever I find may not be interested in helping. It’s become accepted as facts and rumours swirled around Haven that, as per my own account, the crane that helped build this place was dismantled. Not destroyed in a fight or just fallen into disrepair; purposefully taken apart to trap us down here. As for who did this or why, we have no idea, but the idea that this happened has caused a swell of anger, and makes people reluctant to send me out to ask for help, if the first people I find are the ones who took apart the crane.

  There’s also the risk that I might stumble into something I shouldn’t and get captured, or worse, which makes this idea the one the Chief is the most vocal against. She also knows how I felt when I got up there, and worries those feelings may be stronger next time. There’s something else about the Abyss, besides those cliffs, that keeps people trapped down here.

  Fourth and finally, and most pessimistic, is that we forget about escaping the Abyss for the time being and focus on working with what we have. This, unsurprisingly, comes from Anton. We’re not running low on anything, and we won’t for a while either, so long as we manage things well. The Wolf Pups are bringing new mouths to feed, but the older Pups are also capable and experienced in living in the Abyss, and there’s talks of organising them into their own Expedition team to hunt and scavenge for Haven. We might be a bit tight on space once all sixty-odd Wolf Pups arrive here, but it’s manageable.

  While Anton agrees that he too would prefer not to spend the rest of his life trapped here, as far as the Abyss goes, we likely have it as good as we possibly can already, and are certainly much better off than everyone else. Haven is safe and secure. If a serious opportunity to escape the Abyss arises, then that should be investigated, but gambling on stories or the goodwill of strangers will only hurt us, he argues. To be completely fair, his points aren’t wrong, and many older members agree with him.

  Normally, such a debate would come down to the Chief’s decision, but besides being vocally against sending me out to look for others, she’s been uncharacteristically quiet. She just sat at the centre of the council’s table presiding over the noisy tavern floor, resting her chin on her clasped hands as she stared down at the piece of rope I brought back that was placed before her. A few blades of grass still remain tangled amidst the old fibres. Bright, healthy green, not the dark, murky green of the plants on the farming plot. While the soil around Haven is remarkably fertile, it doesn’t produce the most pleasant colour in plants grown in it. Unless those plants are red, of course. Red and brown things grow just fine here.

  Four ideas, going round and round in circles. The worst thing is… I agree the most with Anton. Things are okay enough here. The topic of the Gauntlet is inflammatory enough that it’s even gotten Einar, who normally has the countenance of a stone wall that learned how to scowl, heated and vocal. Rebuilding the crane is something I’m not fond of, either. If it’s the only choice, I’ll do it, but it carries its own risks that fall entirely upon me. As for looking for help… Well, we do have a lost Azorii Princess down here, but I worry we won’t get any help from her family if they haven’t already tried to look for her.

  Normally, I’d go with the Chief’s decision in this instance, but for a worrying amount of time, she’s had the expression of someone who has no idea what to do.

  “You sure know how to cause a ruckus, Feathers. Ain’t seen this much of a stir in Haven since the day you got here.” Johnny chuckles, taking a long drink from his mug. He’s been idly lounging beside me at a table to the back of the room, paying little heed to the arguments flying around.

  “At least they’re not asking me to repeat every little detail of what it’s like up there for the dozenth time again now…”

  Tiff chose not to wash out the grass stains on my knees until after this meeting, for proof there’s grass up there. Proof besides the flowers I brought down for Irie, that someone tried to take off of her and that someone got a serious dressing down from Rann. People are desperate to feel something from the wider world beyond the Abyss. Proof there is more out there. None of them went for the rope, as the rope’s been in the Chief’s possession, and when she’s not looking unsure, she’s looking downright sour.

  “Which idea do you think is best, Johnny?”

  “Beats me.” He shrugs. “Decision makin’ ain’t my job.”

  “You don’t have to make the decision, Johnny, I’m just asking which do you think is best.”

  “Ahhh, if you really wanna know…” He sighs, sitting up straight. “I think we send you out to look for help. If someone out there had the idea and the means to build that crane in the first place, surely there’s someone who’d wanna help us get out.”

  “What if I get captured? Or killed? Or if I just didn’t come back?”

  ‘You’re tougher than ya look, Feathers. Besides, I wouldn’t hold it against ya. You’d have earned it.”

  “I’d have earned what?”

  “Freedom from this stinkin’ hole.” He gives me a sincere look. “You got wings. You put in all the hard work to get strong enough to fly a whole six hundred tals up and outta here. We’d all miss ya, sure, but I’d get it. No one wants to stay down here. I wouldn’t blame ya for leavin’, Marina. That’s just how life is.”

  “I don’t think I could live with just… leaving everyone down here behind…”

  “I know ya won’t, Feathers. You got too big a heart to just leave us all behind. At the very least, take me with you! I’ll be damned if ol’ Johnny boy goes his whole afterlife without seein’ the sea again. I just hope the seas down here ain’t red. I’ve had enough of the colour red for the rest of my…ah, you get the point.” He waves it off. The sea, huh. I haven’t even thought about the sea. I was happy enough to see a blue sky again, even if it was heavily overcast. But…

  “But we’re already Damned, Johnny.” I poke his hand teasingly.

  “Aahh, twice-Damned then! You know what I mean!” He groans as I laugh. “You’ve been hangin’ ‘round Tiff too much. She can’t get enough of tellin’ that joke.”

  “If you want, I’ll keep training until I’m strong enough to carry you out of here, Johnny. You’ll just have to hold on tight on the way up.”

  “That’s a deal, Feathers.” He shakes my hand.

  “And… the rest of us?” Arshak comments, unamused. I have been sitting with the rest of the expedition team as well, it’s just been Johnny and I talking.

  “If I can somehow get strong enough to carry Johnny out of here, Arshak, I could carry you and your sister out at the same time.”

  “Ey ey, I’m not that heavy. Now, if you got strong enough to carry Rob outta here…” Johnny retorts.

  I glance over at Rob. He’s well over six foot tall, and with this thick, lumberjack build…

  “Yeah… that isn’t happening.” Not to mention, I don’t think everyone would be okay with flying. If I dropped anyone… yeah. Let’s not think about that. “I don’t think carrying everyone out of here one-by-one by myself is a valid option.”

  “Still, you could take some of us out of here and we could go get-” Johnny tries to make a point, but he’s cut off by the tavern doors flying open, and an exhausted guard trying to catch his breath.

  “Max? What’s going on?” Vann calls from the Council’s table, already moving to the front door.

  “Th-there’s…” Max pants, pointing frantically out the door towards the gates. “Knights! A-a dozen of them! Covered in armour, and… there’s knights!”

  A confused panic spreads through the room like wildfire. Panic over strangers finding Haven and standing at its gates, and confusion over the idea that knights of all possible things are standing at Haven’s gates. Knights? The Keepsguard are quickly brought up as an answer, but almost no one has actually seen them for themselves, and the one person who has, Ingrid, quickly vanishes from the room. A surge starts towards the doors, before a stamp of her staff and a crackle of golden lightning across the roof stuns the crowd into silence.

  “All of you who are not part of the guards or the expedition team.” The Chief speaks, her voice loud and clear. “Remain within the tavern for the time being. Look after the children. You will be safe here. Guards, Expedition team, gather your weapons and come with me. Let’s go greet our uninvited guests.”

  “C’mon, Feathers.” Johnny pats my shoulders. “That means us.”

  With her command given, most of the civilians make their way back to their seats as the Chief, Rann, Vann, and others who were ordered to the gates head through and out the door. Most of our group first head to the armoury to grab their gear, but I now realise that I don’t have my own weapon or anything. Besides my wings, of course. Even as I try to head towards the armoury, the Chief grabs my arm and gently, but firmly pulls me to her side.

  “Keep your cloak on and stay by my side, Marina. There’s too much we don’t know, so we must conceal what we have. If these are the Keepsguard…” She sighs, gripping her staff.

  “I’m sure if it comes to it you can blast them away, Chief.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that.” The Chief straightens her posture as the others emerge from the armoury, and the Chief, Rann, Vann and I head up the stairs to the platform besides the gate.

  “Tch… just my luck, the one day I get gate duty, this happens.” Kazuma sighs, lazily leaning against the palisade with his spear by his side.

  The first thing I see on my way up the stairs is a fluttering banner of deep green emblazoned with a golden shield—two colours starkly out of place in the red-brown murkiness of the Abyss. Stranger still, however, is that Max was right.

  That banner is being held aloft by a knight, shining armour and all.

  Twelve in total stand before the gates, in a semicircle formation gathered around the banner. Despite the ankle-deep mud on the road up to Haven, their full plate armour is spotless and shines as if the sun was shining directly upon them… even without direct sunlight. They all wear helmets that completely obscure their faces, but… I’ve seen enough suits of armour to know that what they wear is a bit all over the place. Some wear helmets worn by present-day knights, others… what they wear is only for ceremonial purposes now, but were once the standard. Some wear tabards over their armour in the same green and gold as their banner, others simply wear their armour unadorned. They are all heavily armed with halberds, maces, shields, hammers, axes, and greatswords.

  Far better equipment than what we have.

  An uneasy silence hangs as the two groups observe each other. The knights make no move, looking up at the Chief, Rann, Vann and I atop the palisade.

  The Chief decides to break the silence, speaking in her commanding voice as she did in the tavern. “I am Chief Lichtrufer, leader of this settlement. Who stands before our gates unannounced?”

  The knight at the front of the group tilts his head up. He wears a rounded greathelm with a gold band across its eye slits, and he’s armed with a giant two-handed axe similar in size to Rann’s huge sword. He wears some form of golden brooch upon his green and gold tabard that I don’t recognise, but the Chief might, as she’s gripping her staff tightly beside me.

  The helmed figure seems to laugh to himself, removing his greathelm slowly as he looks up at us. He has black, greying hair, and stark red eyes set deep in his face, a grey, thick moustache, and his skin is heavily suntanned. He’s definitely a native of the Abyss, and an older one at that, though not old enough to be Rann’s age.

  “So…” He speaks, adjusting his neck. His voice is loud and coarse with a thick accent I don’t recognise, as if he’s been barking orders all his life. “It is true. There really is a witch’s hovel out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “A witch’s…” The Chief hisses under her breath, before taking a deep breath and responding to the knight. “This is no hovel, herr ritter, but a fortified settlement whose inhabitants only wish to live in peace. State your name and purpose, or else you will be considered hostile to this settlement and dealt with accordingly.”

  Herr ritter… that’s a Drachenkoenig honourific for a knight. Is his accent a Drachenkoenig accent?

  “And under what authority do you make such threats, witch?” The last word rolled off the man’s tongue like a viper’s hiss. “Just because the peasants call you “Chief” doesn’t mean you can order about a knight.”

  I can feel the Chief’s anger rising beside me. Rann moves to stop her from whatever she’s about to do, but he’s a moment too slow.

  “Under my authority, herr ritter, as a Sage of the Order of the Golden Light!” With an angry stamp of her staff and a crackle of golden lightning, a large golden sigil flashes into existence with the boom of thunder, seemingly endless loops of chains and rings that swirls endlessly around itself, suspended in the air upon sizzling golden lightning coursing around it in circles.

  While it’s difficult to see from right beneath it, it draws gasps of shock and awe from both behind us and in front of us, as several of the knights step back and place a hand on their weapons, but the knight at their head seems entirely unshaken.

  The sigil disappears after a few moments, having made its mark. The helmless knight, however, just laughs.

  “Hah! The Order of the Golden Light? I never thought I’d meet the child they named a Sage for a laugh! They even taught you how to flash around your Authority like a real Sage!” He chortles; a deep, mocking laugh. “Surely, either of you two men behind that little girl must actually be in charge. The whelp doesn’t even know how to show proper respect to her betters in the Justiciars.”

  “The…” The Chief blinks in disbelief. “The Justiciars, did you say? The Junovarian Justiciars?”

  “So you do know your betters, girl.” The man strokes his chin with pride.

  “That… scholarly order of pencil-pushers? What year are you from?” The Chief almost laughs as the man’s pride quickly turns to indignation.

  “Pencil-pushers?! Says the whelp from the corrupt order that makes a mockery of Juno’s name-” The man barks, grabbing his axe and swinging it around in front of him with one hand.

  “I believe we’re getting off track, Sir Ryvon. We didn’t come here to argue over Orders and Authorities.” The knight to the left of the man at the front steps forward, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. His voice betrays his age; he sounds old, dignified and wizened, even through the echo of his helmet. He wears a sallet, a helmet I recognise from the mercenaries that frequent the town near where I grew up in the Sovrana Republic.

  “Did I ask you, Sir Dueren?” Ryvon growls, swatting away Dueren’s hand. “I will not take such an insult without recompense!”

  “I do believe what we seek from them will be recompense enough, no?” Dueren reasons.

  “And what recompense are you seeking from us? Truth about the Justiciars or not, what transgressions have we made against a group who have still yet to formally introduce themselves?” The Chief calls.

  “Hmm. Very well.” Ryvon loudly clears his throat, extending an open hand. “We are the Keepsguard of the Abyss. We are better armed, armoured, supplied, and no doubt have better living quarters than you. Hand over the Princess, and you shall be spared any bloodshed.”

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “Unless you’re speaking of our Chief, you’ll find no Princess here.” Rann answers, placing his hand on the Chief’s shoulder.

  “Princess…? What in the world is he… is he talking about Arza?” The Chief whispers, leaning back so the Keepsguard don’t hear.

  “We don’t know, Chief. Let’s not reveal anything yet.” Vann mutters back.

  “Playing the fool, I see. Then let’s treat this as what it is. A hostage exchange. Bring up the boy!” Ryvon shouts over his shoulder.

  Two of the knights near the back step forward, dragging something… someone, with them up to the front. Someone short with a bag over their head, as they push them to their knees and pull the bag off-

  “Crow?!”

  I’d recognise that black scruffy hair anywhere. That’s Crow, with his arms bound behind his back and rope gagging his mouth. How the hell did he end up in this situation? Why did he bring these Keepsguard here?

  “So, the boy was good for something after all. You do know him.” Ryvon grins to himself. “Then that makes things simple. The boy is unharmed. For your sake, I trust the Princess is too. Hand her over to our protection, and we’ll return the boy.”

  The Chief peers over the palisades down at Crow, who looks up at her as he struggles in his bondage. Whatever the Chief reads off of him, she mumbles annoyedly under her breath.

  “There is no “Princess” here. I don’t know what the boy told you to save his own skin, but you came to the wrong place. Leave the boy unharmed, turn around, and go back from whence you came. We have nothing for you.” The Chief responds, choosing her words carefully.

  Ryvon raises an eyebrow, exhaling loudly. He hands his helmet to Dueren, taking his axe in both hands as he holds its blade to Crow’s neck, making Crow freeze on the spot.

  “Stop! What are you doing to him?! What kind of knight threatens a child?!” The Chief shouts, gripping her staff in anger as gold lightning crackles down its length.

  “What I’m doing is loosening your tongue. The boy was caught thieving from our camp as we ventured across the Abyss. He’s lucky he hasn’t lost a hand for it, but if you don’t speak the truth, he’ll lose his—”

  There’s a small commotion behind us as Ryvon threatens Crow. My wings get antsy beneath my cloak, telling me something or someone is rushing up the stairs behind us—

  —and Ingrid shoves past the Chief and I, leaping over the palisade and landing on her feet in front of the gate, holding aloft a hefty warhammer.

  “Ingrid!! The hell are you doing, get back here!” The Chief yells, shocked but angry. Ingrid acting out of turn is the last thing she needed in this situation.

  “Driving off these enemies, Chief. You’ve entertained them for too long.” Ingrid bluntly answers. She’s wearing metal gauntlets and vambraces she must have fashioned for herself in her spare time.

  Ryvon looks surprised, standing up straight and lowering his axe from Crow’s neck.

  “Ingrid.” He speaks, sneering down his nose at her. “I see you finally found a hovel that suits you.”

  “Ingrid?!” One of the other knights yell as they surge forward, their voice young and impetuous. “The hell are you doing here?!”

  The young knight goes to draw his sword, but he’s stopped in his tracks by the silent knight to Ryvon’s right.

  “Leave, Ryvon. And never return.” I’ve never heard Ingrid sound so serious and angry as she points her hammer at Ryvon.

  “I’m not here for you, girl. Put the hammer down. You think just because you fashioned some scrap to a stick, you’re worthy of being my opponent? I’ll cut you down where you stand if you get in my way.” Ryvon growls, spinning his axe around and holding its blade level with Ingrid’s head.

  Ryvon steps forward. Rann and Vann both grab their weapons, but they can’t help Ingrid from up here.

  I can, though.

  I grab Kazuma’s spear, and leap over the palisade to land beside Ingrid. Even without my wings, I’ve gotten damn good at landing steadily on my feet.

  “Hey! That’s my spear!!” Kazuma yells over the palisade down at me.

  “Marina!! What the hells are you doing?!” The Chief shouts, shocked that I’m following along with Ingrid’s idiocy.

  I throw a look up at her, trying my hardest to convey the thought of “I know what I’m doing. They’re distracted, I’m trying to rescue Crow.” I know she reads emotions, not minds, but she understands that I know what I’m doing.

  “Another foolish girl jumping to her death? No matter. Your wall won’t save you. If you refuse to hand over the Princess-” Ryvon speaks, unshaken by my backup, but Ingrid cuts him off.

  “Whatever princess you’re looking for left ages ago. I don’t know where she went, and I don’t care.” Ingrid growls. “Leave.”

  “I have no more time for you, Ingrid. Go back to forging nails or whatever they have you do. You’re lucky they took in such a shoddy smithy.” Ryvon sneers, taking another step forward.

  The knight to his right just sighs and removes his helmet, letting his long, brown, wavy hair down to his shoulders… Oh.

  Oh no.

  I know that hairstyle. The one that’s all the rage amongst the rich, young sons of the many merchant families of my home, the ones that spent every waking hour chasing and pining after girls like my sisters. Romantic, dramatic poetical types who will do anything for their love and are a bit too obsessed with their image. Please, please don’t let him have a Sovranan accent-

  “Hold on a moment, Sir Ryvon. This is Ingrid we’re talking to. You know she’s too dense to be capable of lying.” He speaks, in a crystal-clear Sovranan accent. Shit.

  This does make Ryvon pause, however, and he lowers his axe a little.

  “Ingrid.” The wavy-haired man smiles—gods, they all have the same pretty boy smile that I know they practice and rehearse! “The princess we seek. Is she here?”

  “I already told you she left. Don’t care where she went, either.” Ingrid narrows her eyes.

  Ryvon scans across us with a scowl, before sighing out loud and dropping his axe to his side.

  “For Juno and Arnar’s sake. You’re right, Sir Marco. That girl’s as thick as the anvil she loves, and she never lied before. However.” Ryvon grabs Crow by his collar, lifting him up off the ground and pulling down his gag. “You lied, boy. You said she was here.”

  “I-I wasn’t!” Crow splutters, coughing out rope fibres. “She was here…! They said so, I didn’t know she left! I promise!!”

  “Crow is right.” The Chief calls, trying to stabilise the situation. “She was here, but she left some time ago. If you wish to know where she went, you’re welcome to comb through the Dead Hollows looking for her.”

  “Why did you tell him where she is?!” Crow cried out, but I saw him hesitate for just a moment. I know he’s playing along.

  “The Dead Hollows? That impassable copse?” Ryvon questions, not yet convinced.

  “You’ll have to find the Red Wolves first, though. There’s already an order of warriors defending her, and they are fierce and noble fighters. Only they know where your princess is. Leave the boy with us; he’s ours. He’s just rather fond of the princess.” The Chief continues, even as Crow struggles and protests.

  The Keepsguard exchange looks with one another. They seem inclined to believe our story; we haven’t lied, after all, and Ingrid’s bullheaded rush out in front of them has worked in our favour.

  “Hmm.” Ryvon grunts, dropping Crow to the ground. “Cut his bonds, Sir Marco. The boy served his purpose.”

  Sir Marco steps forth, drawing a small knife and cutting through the rope around Crow’s arms. I step forward as he runs to me and timidly clings to my side, wrapping an arm around him to protect him, but finding myself at eye level with Sir Marco as he scans up my form. Of all the red eyes I’ve seen, his are certainly the most gem-like. Of course.

  “I can understand Ingrid leaping into danger without a thought, but why did you follow after her? Are you brave, or simply as foolish as her?” He asks with that same damn smile.

  “Call it a fool’s bravery.” I answer.

  “Well.” He chuckles. “Bravery regardless of its reasons is no less a noble thing.”

  I know he’s flirting with me. I’ll ignore it. To his type, flirting is as natural as breathing.

  “We will take you at your word, Chief. If our search in the Dead Hollows turns up empty-handed… we will return with a vengeance to be paid.” Ryvon takes his helmet back from Dueren, putting it on. “Come, Sir Marco. We’re returning.”

  “Of course, Sir Ryvon.” Marco nods, putting his helmet back on as the knights form a circle around their banner.

  They all draw their swords, holding them aloft towards the banner as it’s lifted up into the air, and with three stamps of the banner and three chants of the Keepsguard, a bright flash envelops them all as a white circle surrounds them on the ground, and… they’re gone. They’re gone?!

  “Did… Did they just teleport?!”

  The gates are already opening behind us as the Chief rushes out to where they once stood, swirling her staff through the air as if to read the residual magic from the vanished knights.

  “... You are correct, Marina. They just teleported.” The Chief confirms, furrowing her brow.

  “But isn’t that, like… super advanced magic not even you can do? So how did they-”

  “It’s the banner.” Ingrid answers. “They have two as a pair. One can teleport back to the other. They keep one in the Keep so they can always return when needed instead of walking all the way back.”

  “And you’re telling me this now?” The Chief says in disbelief.

  “You never asked.” Ingrid shrugs.

  “Of course, of course. And you.” The Chief turns her ire to Crow. He’d dropped the timid act when the Keepsguard left, but he’s actually scared now that the Chief’s anger is directed at him. “What the hells were you thinking bringing the Keepsguard of all people here?! Haven’s secrecy is its security! You just put that in jeopardy!”

  “B-Because if I didn’t take them somewhere they believed the Princess could be, they were going to kill me…!” Crow responds in a panic.

  “Ryvon would have killed him, Chief.” Ingrid adds. “He may dress like a knight, but he’s nothing but a thug.”

  The Chief takes a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “That may be the case, Crow, but that’s not the only reason you brought them here.”

  Crow goes quiet for a moment before answering. “... Well, you could have just magicked them away, couldn’t you?”

  “Not quite, kid.” Rann answers, patting Crow on the head. “Their armour was enchanted and protected against magic. I know what that sheen looks like. Besides, no way could normal armour be that clean in this mudhole.”

  “Hah.” The Chief laughs, brushing her hair aside. “You think their paltry magic protection would have saved them from the magic of a Sage? I could overcome it with ease.”

  “But you didn’t try to.” Rann raises an eyebrow.

  “No, because I knew they were hiding something. As for the level of magic it would have taken to overcome their protection… it would have wiped Crow away with them.” The Chief admits. “The Light of Annihilation doesn’t discriminate.”

  “... Did you name that spell?” Ingrid asks with a slightly raised eyebrow. “That’s a bit much.”

  “Why are you still here?! Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” The Chief angrily retorts.

  “I’m pretty sure her intervention is what helped us avoid bloodshed, Chief. They weren’t believing us, but they knew her, and they believed her when she said that Arza wasn’t here.”

  “That doesn’t get you out of trouble for blindly jumping down after her, Marina. Go give Kazuma his spear back. This is precisely why I didn’t give you a weapon.” She glares at me.

  “Alright, alright, I’ll go give it back to Kazuma…” I turn, only to find Kazuma right behind me. “Oh. He’s right here.”

  “Yes, Kazuma here.” He salutes as I hand his spear back to him. “You can ask if you want to hold it, you know.”

  “So, Kazuma. What’s it like finally getting gate duty?” Vann asks with a grin.

  “I’m going back to the Cellars.” Kazuma replies with a frown. “I don’t want to be on the gate when those tinheads come back.”

  “It won’t be for a while, hopefully.” Rann scratches his chin. “They’ll be spending a while rummaging through the Dead Hollows… if they make it out of there alive. They didn’t ask about the dangers of that place.”

  “Well, my next question is… how did they know about Arza, and why did they want her?”

  “They knew about “a princess” when they caught me. They’ve been looking for a princess in the Abyss for a while, it sounded.” Crow comments. “I just told them what they wanted to hear, that I knew where one was. Of course, I wasn’t going to lead them to the Princess, I knew the witc- I mean, the Chief could have handled them.”

  “I could have, Crow, but it would have cost you your life if it went that way.” The Chief sighs. “Anyway. This has been dealt with, let’s head back inside.”

  The gates close behind us as we head back up the main road and inform the people sheltering in the tavern that the threat has passed. Everyone was surprised to see Crow with us, the Wolf Pups especially, who gathered around and wanted to know everything that had happened back at the Capital. People were still worried, but the Chief, Rann, and Vann assured them all that the danger had passed, and that the knights weren’t a threat to Haven even if they knew where it was.

  There was one question left unanswered, though.

  …

  “... The Gauntlet.” The Chief says, staring down into her mug of mulled wine.

  “That’s what they kept talking about.” Crow nods, wrapped up in a blanket, sitting by the fire as Tiff dries his hair after a bath. “Something about… a show of chivalry opening the way to this Gauntlet thing.”

  Tiff, the Chief, Crow and I are seated around the fire in her library, discussing everything Crow heard from the Keepsguard. It turns out, they’ve heard of the Gauntlet, and they believe it’s real too, but they have their own idea on how to find it.

  An idea that requires a princess. And there’s only, as far as we know, one of those in the Abyss.

  “Of course a Justiciar lost out of time would think that… They were a proper knightly order, three hundred years ago.” The Chief sighs, sinking into her chair.

  “Why would… showing chivalry open the Gauntlet? What does that have to do with the God of War, Arnar?”

  “Arnar is sometimes worshipped alongside Juno as the Gods of Chivalry and Valour. The Junovarian Justiciars, before they became a scholarly organisation, sought to emulate the values of chivalry and valour in every walk of life… though apparently, they let people like Ryvon in anyway. Not surprising. Yes, they did help restore order and decency to the Order of the Golden Light, but not long after that their own corruption came to light, so to speak, and they were stripped of their swords as punishment.” The Chief takes a long, slow gulp from her mug. “A truly chivalrous knight is a rare thing. Most are just glory hounds, bullies, or worse still.”

  “Crow… What did you do to get caught by people like that?” Tiff asks, patting his shoulders.

  “They… I don’t know how they caught me. They have magic armour, they must have magic warnings or… something.” Crow huffs.

  “Will Arza be safe in her home in the Hollows, though? You did tell the Keepsguard where to look for her…” Tiff worries.

  “She’ll be fine! We’ll see those shiny metal plates coming from ages away, and the Fool’s Gums will be happy to greet them!” Crow grins. “They won’t last a day in the Hollows. That’s our turf.”

  “Given how brazenly they walked up to our gates, they’ll likely do the same in the Hollows. Still…” The Chief looks across at Crow. “We should warn them.”

  “Eh? You want me to?” Crow blinks.

  “Unless the next group of Wolf Pups arrives tomorrow, yes. You are responsible for this mess, Crow.” The Chief frowns; not a full glare, but it gets the point across.

  “A-aha… Yeah… I suppose I did… um… thank you for the bath and the hot meal, though.” Crow awkwardly laughs, nervously averting his eyes from the Chief’s glower.

  “It’s fine. You’ve done a lot for Haven, so I’ll let this slide. Besides, you’re not the only one who caused trouble today.” The Chief glances across at me, narrowing her eyes.

  “Look, someone had to back Ingrid up, and-”

  “And you forgot what you were wearing.” The Chief cuts me off, glancing down at my knees. What’s wrong with… oh.

  It’s faded a little, but there’s an unmistakable green stain on my knees. The grass stains.

  If they came all this way, they know for certain that there’s no green grass in the Abyss.

  “What… What is that stuff on your knees? That weird… colour…” Crow squints, leaning towards me.

  “It’s green, Crow.”

  “Green, like… like sewer water?” He blinks.

  “Like grass. Do you… not recognise grass?”

  “Never seen it.” He shrugs. “I was born and died in some smelly city. Wasn’t any “grass” there.”

  … This child was born, died, and went to hell, without ever seeing grass. That realisation hits Tiff, the Chief and I like a tonne of bricks, but Tiff is quick to try and change the topic.

  “You’re always welcome here for whatever you need, Crow. Just… try not to bring uninvited guests next time, okay?” Tiff smiles.

  “... It’s good they didn’t see you, Tiff. I told them the princess has bright red hair…” Crow looks up at Tiff, then looks away, blushing.

  “You WHAT?! If they caught even a glimpse of Tiff, they’d have torn the gate down to get her!” The Chief nearly jumps out of her chair, startling Crow.

  “Oh, it would have been fine, Mia. You’d have stopped them, and no one would mistake me for a princess.” Tiff laughs it off.

  “You would be surprised, Tiffany. You have more of a princess’ demeanour than I do. Wouldn’t you agree, Marina?” The Chief crosses her arms, looking for me to agree with her.

  “Y… Yes…?” Should I agree with that…?

  “Oh, stop it, you two~” Tiff grins, blushing.

  “I’m serious, Tiffany. No thug calling themselves a knight is taking you away from us.” The Chief huffs.

  “Oh, Mia, you’re my hero, my one true knight~” Tiff giggles.

  “Will you stop that! I’m serious!” The Chief nearly pouts, but she stops herself upon remembering Crow’s in the room.

  “Well… I suppose Marina’s more knightly. I heard how she leapt over the wall into danger to save a helpless child from the clutches of those terrible rogues!” Tiff stops to think for a moment.

  “I’m… knightly?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Marina.” The Chief quickly retorts.

  “I was not helpless! I knew exactly what I was doing bringing them here!!” Crow complains.

  Tiff just laughs. She’s successfully teased all three of us, so as far as she’s concerned, she’s won. It’s definitely lightened the mood after the earlier exchange about who has and hasn’t seen something as simple as grass. Haven’s secrecy may have been broken, but none of us feel any less safe. We’ll be fine.

  I just hope the same will be true for the Princess in question.