A cloud of silvery white fog glided gently over patches of yellowish-green grass littered with shed leaves and rotting wood. Tiny flowers imitated a parishioner's diligence with their waxy heads bent to the loamy soil. They paid little mind to the steady shff and crunch from the saddled horses beating their hooves against the grounds, at times carelessly stomping upon their neighbors with a single stride. Foot soldiers clutched their sword's hilts and tightened the fastenings on their shields. 

Their eyes darted warily at the long shadows which seemed to have gathered around them in size and number since the sun's last bow beyond the treetops. At the head and tail of the procession, a lanthorn's frosted glass glowed with the lambent essence of a copper flame. The soldiers followed the leading light, as well as the grumbling from the calvary's horses, and tried to put their imaginations to rest for what the forest's quiet psithurism could hold. 

The leading light hung from the leather bridle of a handsome destrier whose eyes and ears never shifted from the path ahead. It nickered impatiently at those behind, ears twitching with displeasure until three strokes along its mane soothed its nerves. Upon the stead's back was a rider whispering soft promises underneath her breath of feed and lush grazing once they'd reached their destination. The rider sat with their head high and the bridle's reins clutched tightly in one gloved fist. The encroaching darkness did not turn their head, nor did the clanking of metal and shuffle of weary footsteps behind quicken her heart.

They  breathed in the damp scent of the earth, gently pulling the reins to one side to avoid the subtle hint of wet leaves and patches of wildflowers. Small rodents and lizards skittered out of their horse's path, diving into the brush before peeking out at the passing squadron. The rider nodded when the eyes followed them long past the fading pungent scent of fear. At last, their horse threw back his head and they lifted their gaze to the blue-grey sky twinkling with stars as if welcoming them from the forest's depths. 

"Thank the gods," one of the foot soldiers said with a soft gasp. "For a moment, I thought we may never step foot out of that accursed holt."

Another snorted, voice dripping with derision, "With a woman as our guide, the concern is well-founded—" Several scattered gasps, and eyes turned in the direction of the voice filling the air with disquiet. One in particular spoke in hushed tones, brusque and scolding, "Hush fool, she bears the Judgemaster's seal. Do you dare question the magistrate?"

"N-No, I only meant…"

The rider rolled her shoulders, allowing the weight of their furtive glances upon her back to trickle off like water as she guided her nickering steed into the sea of green grass speckled with wildflowers and ferns. While the soldiers emerged from the woods with well-wishes and muted awe after being enraptured by darkness, she pulled her steed to a gentle halt then swung herself from the saddle. She worked to undo the brass clasping on the lanthorn, and slipped it from the horse's bridle before removing the bridle itself and placing it on the ground. 

The horse's watery dark eyes regarded her as she rose to her full height. "You did well, Ulysses," she whispered, lips curled slightly at one corner. Her fingertips stroked a rhythm of gratitude between the horse's eyes, starting from the top of his head to the damp whisker of his muzzle. "You held your excitement in quite well. It must have been difficult for you."

The horse nickered, blowing out a huff before pushing her hand away with a butt of his nose against her palm. She withdrew her hand with a low, disheartened sound until their eyes met and the steadiness of Ulysses' gaze seemed to return the sentiment in kind. The rider couldn't help but smile, flexing her fingers with a tentative mutter, "It was difficult for us both, perhaps." 

Consternation filled the horse's eyes, but slowly they drifted shut in submission to the rider's careful touches along his muzzle. Her attention shifted once she was certain Ulysses was pacified, touches stalling to nothingness when her hand drifted down to hang by her side. The horse's eyes blinked open, and followed her as she stepped aside, walking with her face turned toward the distant horizon. Despite the helmet's steel vizor obscuring her face from view, she gazed between the thin slats toward the north where a silhouette of buildings smattered in the center of the sprawling plains emerged almost in greyed wisps against the night sky. 

One of the buildings stood taller than the others, and cast a soft cerulean hue at its steeple where a light shone like an earth-bound star. For a brief moment, she forgot the soldiers and their derision, the trek within the forest's depths, the eyes honed upon her with their probing gaze, and even the reason she'd returned to this place. Suddenly, the armor she wore weighed with the intensity of a thousand boulders and she wanted nothing more than to cast it off. Ulysses snuffled, ambling up to her side with his head raised proudly against the billowing wind. 

Together, they watched the twinkling fallen star and she wondered if Ulysses felt the same urgency she did. If the beast of burden could too hear the melody she'd begun to catch notes of. A sweet, lilting voice crooning welcomes and longing sighs with oaths of joyous reconciliation should she be brave enough to take the first step. A name settled upon her lips, but she dared not to speak it amongst the ears of those around her.

She laid her palm against the horse's neck, stroking her thumb in circles against the gallop of his racing heart. "Not yet," she whispered, as much to herself as to Ulysses. "We did not come for idle pleasures."

Looking upon the star, its glow did not seem as enticing as it once was but the yearning tug within her chest persisted as she turned her back to the horizon. The soldiers carried on with offloading the horse-drawn carriages, carrying iron-banded barrels of dried meats and sacks of grain to the tents being drawn up near the center of the clearing. Others gathered at the perimeter, facing the forest which they feared with weapon in hand. Talks of warding off the night's chill with firelight floated to the rider's ears, and her heart seized with a sharp inhale. 

She stepped away from Ulysses, ignoring the disapproving grumble at her back. The two soldiers discussing how their plans to collect firewood from nearby trees startled when she marched up to them. "Do not light a fire," she stated curtly, fixing them with a stare when the men glanced toward one another then back with murmured, hasty assents before scurrying away. She watched them go, then turned around with a put-upon sigh before returning to her horse's side. 

Amidst the camp's preparations, an elderly man barked orders upon horseback and watched the scrambling soldiers jump to fulfill them. When he passed by a frazzled pair desperately relaying a message to one of the calvary with wild gestures and shakes of the head, he slowed his horse's gait and waited. Soon, the calvarywoman released the men back to their duties and pushed her steed to a trot to follow a few paces behind the elder's. 

"What is the issue now?" He asked, surveying the makeshift stable where the other horses were being untacked and watered. 

The calvarywoman sighed, "Complaints of the cold, Captain Daliternos."

"Has the darkness led them to lose their wits?" He sighed, running a hand down the thick snowy white beard covering the lower half of his face. A small smile disappeared within it when he chuckled, "Perhaps cutting a few tree branches will shed light on the matter."

"We have been advised not to do so, sir."

Captain Daliternos let out a short hm, and cut a single sepia-colored eye over his shoulder. "By whom?"

"Rhea Dunamis," the calvary woman stated, and though her expression was indiscernible behind the steel vizor she wore, the hook of her lips spoke of displeasure. "She commanded our men not to light a fire, though she gave no word as to why."

Captain Daliternos grunted, turning his head eastward to where the cliff overlooked the land. He could see the young woman standing beside her steed and watched her for mere moments without a word. Clad in the silver and blue of their lord, she appeared as a solemn sentry guarding their encampment from an unseen enemy. Chatter filled the commotion within the camp, but silence hung in the air around her as if none were brave enough to pierce it. 

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" The calvarywoman asked. While her tone was colorless, the captain sensed there were choice words she might have had for their honored guard. 

"Granted."

"While I may not understand why you would agree with the magistrate's appointment of a squire to lead our squadron, surely you see the nonsense in this—" Captain Daliternos glanced over his shoulder, noting the tightness which the calvarywoman held her horse's reins. Gradually, his eyes drifted up to the tightness of her mouth as it quivered between parting breaths, "Our men have traveled for days at her whims and followed each of her nonsensical demands. Now, we have reached our goal and still they must be subjected to sacrifice?"

Captain Daliternos' eyes slipped shut, his head tilted upward slightly. He too missed the scent of meat roasting over a cookfire, and the warmth of a freshly-cooked meal over the cruel tug of jersey in his teeth. Yet, when he thought of the eyes he'd glimpsed between the slats of the young rider's helmet, he wondered if his desire to eat a warm meal would suffice should it be his last. After a moment, he slanted an eye in the calvarywoman's direction and asked, "Do you believe she is purposefully withholding information from us, Lady Eisner?"

"I—" Eisner choked out, then pressed her lips together tightly as if the next words she dared to speak were sealed between her lips. Her chin tipped away from him and so too did the headiness of her stare, "I do not know enough to be certain, captain."

"Very well," Captain Daliternos said, lowering his chin as he took up his reins and steered his horse toward the cliff. "I shall ask for us."

He didn't wait to hear her response to his suggestion, for once his mind was made then there was no unmaking it. The further he drifted from the camp's center, the quieter the world had become. Only the sound of insects chirping in the tall grass, and the soft grunts from the horse grazing by the cliffside were plain to his ears. Once he was a short distance away from her, he brought his horse to a halt and climbed off her back. "There's begun to circle talk about you," he said, patting his steed's flank to urge her off before turning to face the silent rider. 

No answer was given, and he sighed through his nose before tucking his hands behind his back with one wrapped around the wrist of the other. "Why is it that we should not light a fire, young one?" He asked, walking up to stand by her side. Still, she did not look at him and he found the act of defiance was strangely refreshing. He chuckled again, this time heartier as he turned his attention off toward the horizon. When his eyes found the twinkling gleam of the steeple, another sigh parted his lips.

"When I heard stories of this place, I imagined it would be a pauper's tale," He brought a hand from behind his back, stroking at his beard with a little grin. "Who could imagine a humble village finding a Crystal with such purity to rival the capital's in a godsforsaken forest?"

Yet again, there was no answer and the captain furrowed his heavy brows before sighing loudly. He gestured broadly toward the horizon, turning his head toward her with a disgruntled frown, "Don't you know this is where one would oftentimes brag about their town's history, Dunamis?"

"I was not aware, sir," she replied, her tone airy and otherwise detached, as if she was waking from sleep. 

He withdrew his hand behind his back, clasping it around his wrist once more. "Ah, so you can hear me."

"Of course," she stated dryly, "However I know you enjoy the sound of your voice."

Captain Daliternos' lips puckered, nostrils flaring before a smile broke out upon his face. He laughed while shaking his head, "Quick-witted as always, aren't you?" He sobered up quickly with a long inhale, and took a glimpse over his shoulders at the soldiers huddled together beneath blankets or wandering about their posts with their tasks fulfilled. "You're clever enough to seize a solution when it presents itself, Dunamis, but neglectful in telling others as to why."

She paused for a breath, and Captain Daliternos lowered his gaze to meet the eyes boring into him through the slats of her vizor. "Is that why you've come to accost me, sir?"

"Perish the thought," Captain Daliternos said, waving off the thought with a roll of his shoulders. "I only mean to give advice to an aspiring knight of Chi Aroscuro."

Her mouth snapped shut, and the captain considered the lesson taught. He looked off to the horizon again, eyeing the pinpricks of light against the silhouettes. While they weren't dazzling in comparison, such a sight did tell of life in reasonable condition. "Such a peaceful place doesn't need us soldiers hanging around, does it?" He asked, pleased to see the tightness in her jaw when he cut a glance toward her once again. She turned her face back toward the horizon, and he worried that if she stared any harder then a hole would be born large enough to swallow the sun.

"Is there someone waiting for you there?"

Her shoulders twitched, and he weighed his thoughts before venturing quietly, "A woman?"

His eye trailed down to where her fists tightened, trembling under the force of her grip. While her posture was impeccable and the line of her shoulders did not falter in the slightest, it was the dreadful sight of her lips drawn into a scowl and the sudden stillness around them which throbbed painfully in his chest. With great care, her lips pried apart in an utterance almost too methodical to be without practice, "That would be considered improper, sir."

Captain Daliternos scowled then, turning his gaze away once he was unable to bear looking upon her any longer. "As far as I am concerned, Dunamis, who you take to your bed is your concern alone," he said. "We all have someone we took up steel to protect, and they do not always bear royal blood."

"To equate a commoner's importance with that of the royal family is heresy, sir."

"Will you condemn me to the magistrate's mercy for such talk, Dunamis?"