Judeau stretched languidly and yawned. He felt wonderfully rested and could for once not remember having had a single nightmare all night. He heaved a contented little sigh and opened his eyes, only to find himself staring up into a beautifully decorated and entirely unfamiliar ceiling.

The realization slowly dawned on him that he did not know where he was or how he had got there, and a slight frown started forming on his face. He remembered waiting for the Night of Oaths with Samina, but somewhere around where Steelwing had shown up his recollection became fuzzy.

He looked around, searching for clues, and found himself lying on a pile of shaggy murvelbeast-furs (very warm and comfortable) in a large, bright room lined with dwarf-sized beds - all of them empty. Judging by the plentiful and elaborate decorations all over the white interior, he was in a previously unseen room of the shrine of Vontar. His frown deepened and he searched his memory for a reason for him to be there, and as he leaned back to stare up at his own patch of ceiling the mists clouding his mind gently dissipated. Not that that really helped in any way.

What the hell was that? he thought, but the soft creak of a door opening interrupted any further considerations. He turned towards the sound and watched as the bushy-browed, gravel-throated priest from the day before stepped through the doorway, carrying a large tray stacked with food. Upon seeing Judeau awake the dwarf gave him a curt nod and walked over to put the tray down next to the makeshift bed.

"Good morning," Judeau chirped, trying to get a conversation going, but the priest merely grunted in reply.

"You hungry, manling?"

The unexpectedly enticing scents from the tray made Judeau's stomach vocally answer that question, and the blond scout put off asking any of his own for a little while yet, gratefully helping himself to the food as the priest looked on.

"Good," the dwarf rasped. "No loss of appetite. How do you feel?"

"I feel great, actually," the scout said, pausing for a moment as he blew on a spoonful of mushroom soup. "More rested than I think I've been in many years."

"Mrrm. Any headaches? Queasiness?"

"Nope. None."

"Very good." The priest nodded again, and then reached over and put his stubby fingers gently against Judeau's temples. A brief, refreshing chill swept through the scout and then the dwarf leaned back again. With the spoon still in his mouth, Judeau gave the priest a confused look.

"Just making sure there was no residue in there, manling. You seem to have recovered."

Judeau decided to jump at the opportunity and removed the spoon.

"Recovered from what? What exactly happened to me last night?"

The priest gave him a long, thoughtful look before answering:

"You suffered some magical backlash. That, beyond the assurance that it won't happen again is all I'm currently authorized to tell you."

"Magical...?"

"Backlash. Kind of like a spiritual whiplash injury." The priest heaved a drawn-out sigh and looked off to the side in deep, concentrated thought for a moment, before turning back to Judeau with a very direct glare. "Last night, a strong and unexpected surge of magical energy flowed into this Hold, and it happened to resonate with your curse. The energies fluxed and twisted through you in a way that they really shouldn't have. You were lucky, though - most who suffer that kind of charge end up with brain damage. Maybe my blessing softened the blow a bit, but I'm pretty sure it was fading at that point."

Judeau felt a thousand questions begin to form in his head, but before any of them had coalesced into anything concrete, the priest spoke up again:

"Do you remember what happened to you last night?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Everything."

"Tell me."

Judeau gathered his thoughts, exhaling slowly through his nose, and then recounted the strange experience to the best of his ability.

"...And then Steelwing carried me to you and you did that thing with my temples, and the next thing I know I wake up here, all rested and refreshed."

The priest furrowed his impressive brows. "I'm glad that you have full recollection. But that was..." He interrupted himself with a leisurely shrug. "Eh. It's not as though backlash hallucinations usually follow any kind of logical pattern."

Judeau decided it was his turn to ask a question. "So... this happens often?"

"Oh, by Durgin's hammer, no! But every single novice will, sooner or later, mess up a spell or a ritual. There's not a magic user in the world who haven't suffered some kind of magical backlash at some point in their lives. That's how you learn to be careful." The dwarf sent him a not unfriendly look and helped himself to a strip of dried and salted murvel-meat from the tray. "It's not something that would have happened to you otherwise, but with such a powerful curse... Well."

The priest was censoring himself, that much was obvious, and though Judeau burned to ask just what kind of 'unexpected' incident had set off his brand in such a way, he didn't want to risk angering the wizened dwarf. He thoughtfully looked down at his own hands and the soup and spoon therein, and immediately noticed that the brand had returned to his palm as if it had never been gone at all. He paused for a moment to send the thing a hateful glare.

Would you give me a break? Just once?

After a moment or so, the priest seemed to notice Judeau�s respectful - albeit slightly moody - silence, and a warmer and a bit friendlier nuance entered his coarse voice:

"I heard you were attacked by a dark elf in that battle when you first came here," he rasped, "You can probably thank that rune for that incident, too. Tchun'ni are also creatures of darkness, you know. Only a bit different from demons and undead in that they actually belong here, in this world."

"Really?" Judeau's frown deepened as he grimly thought back. He remembered the minotaurs that had attacked him, Shammael and the others in the forest as they were looking for Dusklilies, because the minotaurs didn't recognise Shammael without his Healer's aura - which had been cancelled out by this very curse. And before that, of course, the night that the brand had reappeared in the first place and managed to get him possessed by a ghost - an experience that still chilled him to remember� and all the sleepless nights during their travels, when ghosts and evil spirits had flocked to him� in fact, since the damn thing came into his life he had had nothing but pain and suffering. Especially if one included the nightmarish minutes after he had first received it.

"This thing," he growled, half to himself, "Is like a damn magnet for trouble, isn't it?"

The priest stilled beside him, the dried strip of meat half way to his lips. Judeau - suddenly reminded of the dwarf's presence - turned in surprise and met a genuinely confused, bushy-browed frown.

"Yes... isn't that exactly what it is?"

Judeau had to hide his amused smile and embarrassment behind a slice of bread, fighting hard against the urge to snicker at the dwarf's innocent honesty.

"You... you're right. So very right. I'm sorry, that was a silly thing to say."

The priest rumbled something about strange longlings but did not comment further, and Judeau�s mirth was short-lived. He soon went back to staring at the brand again, silently cursing his curse and all the pain that it had brought him.

And there was another thing that added to his growing sense of frustration: He had certainly been on equal terms with his new friends in every minor battle they�d run across on their travel, but it seemed that as soon as something major occurred, he was suddenly made helpless. It was always him who kept getting saved, getting patched up, waking up to an unfamiliar ceiling � and he was, in all honesty, getting royally fed up with it.

All his life he had felt as though he was being a background actor to someone else � he had even resolved to accept that and make it a lifestyle, once � but everyone had a limit and his had finally, conclusively, been reached. He had had enough of relying on others to reach the goals he aimed for, had had enough of just supporting and helping other people only to be overlooked at every turn, and had definitely had enough of feeling so weak and of being such a damn victim all the time. Steelwing had told him that he could be more than he thought, and damn it, the elf was right about that! These last months of hard training and noticeable progress had proven as much, and there were no more excuses for weakness. Like this.

It was high time to break this destructive habit. In this moment, as the resolve burned and tightened in his chest, Judeau looked back at himself and wondered who that person was. That guy who was so complacent and inherently dependant, who gave up on himself just because he ran into someone who was better than him. That guy who so readily surrendered all ambition of his own so he could ride on someone else�s wave. Who was that? Right here, right now, it didn�t feel like himself at all.

But the truth, the harsh, complicated truth of the matter was that that was exactly how he had lived his life up to this point. And it would never change unless he made that change himself.

He clenched his hand around the brand as if he could somehow squeeze the demonic rune out of existence if he just tried hard enough, and his jaw clenched in frustration. He wanted a change, a new way to live, more than anything, but how would he make that happen as long as this cursed brand remained on his body, like a reminder of all that he had been and just how all his efforts had paid off?

Like a punishment for all the chances he had passed up.

�Grow stronger.�

Surprised, Judeau looked up at the sound of the deep, hoarse voice - again, he had completely forgotten about the dwarf priest. Pale copper eyes met his with the sincere directness that was typical for the dwarven race, albeit with a much more compassionate tint to it than he had ever seen in the short, bearded men before. It took an instant for the priest�s raspy words to register in his mind.

�'Scuse me, what?�

�Just now, you were worrying about how to live with that curse, weren�t you? And it�s simple: You just have to grow stronger, until you are strong enough to not let it govern your life anymore.�

Judeau stared at the priest, taking in the honesty, the firm dwarven confidence that he radiated with every wrinkle and rough angle of his bearded face, and realized with a tentatively rising sense of� well, he wasn�t really sure yet, but it was making his heart beat faster - that it actually, truly was that easy. At least in theory.

Just like that, he had his answer, and maybe he had had it all along.

Judeau felt the expression on his face change and found himself grinning at the priest. If Steelwing would for some reason decide to rethink his decision not to ask about Judeau's motivation for training under him, the scout would now have an answer to give. I want to get stronger, he thought, so that I can change my fate and take charge of my life. For me. That's all, really.

"Yeah," He said to the priest, his voice subdued by the strong feeling of resolve that filled up his chest and almost made him giddy. "You're right. That's exactly what I'm going to do." His grin split with wolf-like excitement. "I'm not going to let this beat me. I'm taking back my life."

The priest's coppery eyes reflected something of the strong, exciting resolve that shone through Judeau's, and he gave the human a proud nod.

"Now," he rasped, "You're talking like a dwarf!"

*
Judeau still had a spring in his step as he left the Shrine of Vontar a little while later, heading back to the tavern with his head buzzing of half-formed thoughts and firm decisiveness. He happily returned all the smiles and greetings that he got on his way, until it finally worked through his busy head that something was odd about this general spirit of congeniality all around.

He slowed down and took a good look at his surroundings, noticing among other things the significant lack of dwarves. Also, all the humans on the streets - and there were noticeably more of them than usual - hurried around carrying bundles and baskets of different shapes and sizes, but despite the hectic pace, not one seemed stressed or bothered in the slightest. Everyone was smiling and sending quick greetings and well-wishes to one another as they passed each other in the street. Indeed, the words that were most often used were in fact "I wish you well," or in a few instances the more complicated "I wish you a bright new future."

Not quite so narcissistic as to believe that an entire city was celebrating his own personal revelation, Judeau frowned and resumed his brisk walk back towards the tavern. He assumed he would get a proper explanation once he met up with the scar-faced bounty hunter again.

As he entered the tavern's small hallway, he immediately noticed the air of silence and emptiness that leaked out of the company room, and as he entered it he found that it was indeed practically deserted except for Gorgoz himself, who was conscientiously sweeping the floor. The dwarf looked up when Judeau stepped into the room, and gave him an onyx-eyed once-over.

"Recovered already?"

"Yup." Judeau smiled and thumped his own chest for emphasis. "Fit for fight."

Gorgoz raised one eyebrow in amusement and then returned his attention to the broom. "Good for you. Happy new future or whatever you say - Now go on, I must finish this before I go."

"Okay. Same to you. Where's Samina?"

"In his room, I suppose."

Judeau nodded his thanks and descended the stairs that led to the living quarters, smiling slightly to himself. Gorgoz had a very thick dwarven accent and often got his pronouns mixed up, apparently because he belonged to a clan of dwarves who usually didn't live so close to the surface and therefore spoke a lot more dwarfish amongst themselves. However, Samina didn't seem to mind being called a 'he' every now and then and never bothered to correct the dwarf, but Judeau still found it a bit amusing at times.

It took the bounty-hunter a moment to answer his quiet knock, and as the door cracked open a surprisingly warm, soft glow poured out into the hallway and outlined the black-haired woman's contours. She blinked at him in surprise at first, but then her face lit up in a brilliant, genuine smile.

"Judeau!"

He returned her smile and spread his arms to show himself off a bit better. "The very same."

For a moment it looked like she was going to say something else, but she found herself and her smile changed - in a subtle way that Judeau only noticed because he had spent a lot of time with her - and suddenly there was that indefinable barrier between them again.

"Looking good, too," she said. "What a relief. The priest said he didn't know when or even if you would recover. Come in! We've been very worried about you." Judeau curiously stepped into the room, expecting to see the Crusader sitting by the little table, but there was no one else in the room.

"We?"

"Well, okay, at least I have. But I'm sure Steelwing would like to know that you're okay, too."

Judeau nodded, not entirely convinced himself, and let his eyes sweep over the room again. "Sure... but hey, what's with all the candles? Could this possibly have anything to do with all the 'best wishes' I've gotten today?"

"Oh, right," Samina snapped her fingers and walked over to the wall-mounted little table to light the candle she held in her hand on one of the five that already burned there. "I forgot to tell you about that, too. Tonight is Candlenight. We celebrate the return of the light, eat lots of good food, dance, sing, tell stories, make plans and wishes for the future and light lots of candles to help drive away the darkness of winter and the lingering ghosts and fears of the Night of Oaths." She placed the candle on the small shelf above the bed and sent the scout another radiant smile. "In a nutshell. Sit down, you make me feel restless when you stand around like that."

Judeau pulled out one of the two chairs and sat down by the table, frowning as a previously unthought-of concern presented itself:

"Samina," he asked, "What time of day is it?"

"Already past sunset, sleepyhead," she said, sitting down herself. "Didn't the priest tell you?"

"Ah. Nope." He smiled again. "I hope I haven't missed too much of the... festivities?"

Samina chuckled and gestured self-consciously at the rather barren, candlelit room. "Well, most people would have been sleeping late, considering yester night, so this would be the time when things really started going on... but if you're looking for a party I'm afraid you've come to the wrong floor. I didn't know you were going to get better so fast, so I was just thinking I'd spend a nice, quiet Candlenight by myself, for once. I might have visited you," she added with a dash of mischievous sarcasm as he gave her an uncertain look, "You know, to see if you were even conscious yet - if I'd got bored or something. Maybe."

"Oh, should I leave, then?"

"No, no, no. I'm just kidding. I was planning to go see you later, really. Look-" From under the table, Samina produced a medium-sized basket the kind of which Judeau had seen carried around by many people today. "-I even packed some feast-food for you, in case you were awake and could eat."

Judeau beamed at her. "That's very kind of you, Samina. Thanks a lot."

"You want some?"

The strain of her strong arm as she carefully put the basket back down onto the floor made Judeau raise an eyebrow at the scar-faced woman.

"No thanks, not right now. But is all that food really just for the two of us? Or are you expecting Steelwing for later tonight, again?"

Samina's fingers did a lightning-quick tap dance against the tabletop and she didn't look up at him right away. Oh yeah - she was smart and good at hiding what she didn't wish to show, but some things invariably caught her off-guard and shone through all of her defences as if there weren't any in the first place. It was really quite cute - much like how Caska had always blushed and smiled and fumbled a bit whenever Griffith had commended her or smiled at her in that glorious way of his.

"Nah," she said after a moment, still not really meeting his eyes. "He did more than I expected by just coming for the Night of Oaths, and he's really not that big on Candlenight at all... Kind of has more to remember than to hope for..." her voice trailed off and quietened as if in embarrassment, then she quickly cleared her throat and started over, sounding a lot more chipper:

�But it�s part of the tradition to have too much food on the table, otherwise there wouldn�t be any leftovers for the poor. �Sides, if we are to stay awake �til dawn again, we�ll probably get hungry in intervals.�

Judeau blinked at her. �Poor? What poor? As far as I can tell there are only respectable businesspeople in here. In fact, it might actually be the cleanest city I�ve ever seen.�

She smiled. �Yeah, you�re right about that. But then it is really just a huge trade station. No, I was thinking more about a fine old Candlenight tradition they have in the country of Laravale, where the elected Princess of Light walk through the city around midnight and distribute donated food to the poor. It's so beautiful. The Princess - usually the prettiest young maiden or some Freya priestess, it's kind of a popularity contest of the most beautiful or most kind - gets to wear a crown of candles, and everyone who was nominated get to walk in her entourage, carrying the food and a lit candle each, and everyone wears pristinely white robes. They almost look like angels. You should try to see it, some day."

Judeau smiled. "It sounds beautiful." Feeling brave, he tilted his head to the side and indulged his curiosity: "Is that where you're from?"

"No," she said, chuckling quietly. "I wish. No, I was born in Vagoria. Since then I've been around the world basically as much as a person can be without crossing the ocean, and nowadays I live in Kumaragh when I'm not travelling. I'm not even sure of where I'm supposed to be 'from,' anymore."

Very much like Samina, both answering and not answering the question at the same time. Not willing to let her off the hook just yet, Judeau gently pushed the issue. "Kuma...? Isn't that..."

Always eager to fill in his geographical blanks, Samina happily cut him off: "The magicracy, yes. Home of the city of mages, the Academy � and this, incidentally, is precisely where I have my little nest." She smiled, and her eyes glittered in amusement. "Don't look so surprised. It's only common sense to live in a place where it's easy to get well-paying jobs when you do what I do for a living, and magicians usually have special needs that warrant extra high fees. And-" she cleared her throat and winked at him. "-I'm kind of specially equipped to handle those kind of jobs. All is fair in war and business - Special skills are there to profit from, right?"

He raised an eyebrow and sent her a lopsided smile in return. "Oh really? And here I was just thinking of how expensive it must be to buy a place in the Academy, of all places..."

"Well yeah, but... not really. It's just two rooms, anyway - I've made the money back since then. The taxes are not that bad, and I do have a little help..." She fell silent so suddenly that Judeau immediately understood that she had let slip something she hadn't wished to share. Normally, he would let it be and respectfully change the subject as if he hadn't noticed anything, but today he felt like taking chances.

"You keep doing that," he said softly after a moment's thoughtful silence, and she looked up in pretend surprise.

"Hm? Do what?"

"Stop talking in the middle of a sentence when you're about to share something. It's like you can't decide on whether to trust me or not." Before she had a chance to reply, he gave her a small smile and continued, still very softly: "It's not quite fair, you know. We've been friends for months now, and I know hardly anything about you. I like you, Samina, and I'd like to be your friend, but it's getting a bit difficult with this... barrier between us."

For a moment the look of innocent incomprehension lingered on her face, but then she looked away and allowed the 'mask' to disintegrate. Heaving a small sigh, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and then clasped her hands on the table in front of her.

"I'm not really good at letting people in, I know," she said in a soft voice, "And if I've made you feel left out or insulted you, then I'm sorry for that. It wasn't my intention. I actually like you too, and... I suppose I could be a bit more relaxed around you. After all, I do believe that you're reliable." She looked up and smiled a warm, genuine smile. "I do trust you - I'm just not very used to that. I'd like to be a better friend to you, Judeau."

He returned her smile with just as much honesty, himself. "I'm glad."

A brief silence unfolded in the room, but then the bounty hunter sent Judeau a sharp look and a knowing smile.

"This has been bothering you for a while, Judeau. Why bring it up tonight?"

Caught a bit off-guard, he shrugged. "Why not?"

She chuckled quietly. "You know, this works both ways. I don't really know much about you, either, and you haven't exactly been keen on sharing. You know about my Birthright and I know that you're from another world, so I'd rather think we're on equal terms, here. If I start to share, so should you."

Blinking in surprise, Judeau watched the warm candlelight play over Samina's asymmetrical features, adding an extra glint to her eyes, and realised that she was absolutely right. He had wanted to know about her, where she was from, if she had a family of some sort and so on - not only out of curiosity but also because it would help him feel more familiar in this new world. However, now that he thought about it, it was perfectly natural that Samina wanted to know the very same things about him to get a 'feel' for a completely different world that she would never otherwise experience.

And he really hadn't been very keen on sharing. The wounds had been too fresh, and he had been too caught up in his own loss to even consider voluntarily talking about any of it before. All things considered, she had been a real good sport about the whole thing.

"Touch�." He smiled, humbly bowing his head. "What would you like to know?"

The fact that he didn't offer any arguments and was even willing to be the first to break the barrier between them seemed to subdue her, and she regarded him thoughtfully with an unreadable, almost expressionless look on her face for a while.

"What has happened to you today?" she finally murmured curiously, her eyes narrowing a bit. "I knew there was something different about you since you stepped through the door... But what is it?"

Judeau felt the strong excitement of resolve well back up inside him and couldn't help but grin. Of course it was visible on the outside to someone trained to notice such things, like Samina, but the fact that she had noticed did in some way feel like an acknowledgement of the validity of his newfound resolution.

"I... have reached a decision," he said, thinking carefully on how to phrase himself. "You know how it might take a very long time before we can get this curse off of me, right?"

She nodded. Judeau forged on:

"Well, I've been kicked around enough by it already, and last night was the final straw. It really struck me that I'm going to have to live with these kind of things for the foreseeable future, so... I'm going to get stronger from now on. That's all, really. I've decided to face the ugly reality and, well, live with it. Really live with it, if you know what I mean." He sent her a grin across the candles. "You guys have taken care of me enough. I'm taking my life and well-being into my own hands now."

An odd smile spread out over her face and she leaned forward very slightly, leaning her chin against her fist as she watched him with strangely glowing eyes. Then she murmured quietly, almost entirely to herself: "I knew it. You're a phoenix."

Feeling unexpectedly self-conscious all of a sudden, Judeau blinked and sent her a confused frown, but she completely ignored it and straightened up in her seat.

"Okay, my turn." She fished up the little leather pouch that she had held with such reverence the night before from its hidden pocket and opened it, spilling its contents out onto the table. Judeau curiously picked up one of the four grey little objects and studied it more closely. It was a tiny stone figurine, not bigger than the first two joints of his index finger, exquisitely carved out of soap-stone into the shape of a willowy young boy with a serious face.

"Wow," he marvelled at the little masterpiece. "What's this?"

"These," Samina said as she lined the other figurines up in front of herself, "Are my trash kids. Or, well, these are just the replicas of them that Steelwing made for me."

Judeau put the little boy down next to the others and picked up another, slightly bigger one. This one was also a boy, heavily built and slightly deformed, as it seemed.

"Steelwing made these? And what were they, again?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "Surprising, isn't it? Mr Steel Face is actually good at something other than swordplay! And like I said, they are my trash kids. Children that nobody else cares about - orphans and outcasts - but who really only need a proper chance to become something great and worthwhile. These are the ones that caught my attention and left me no choice but to give them that chance."

He looked up in honestly dumbstruck surprise at the scar-faced bounty hunter. "You take care of orphans, Samina? I had no idea..."

"No, not really," she interrupted, frowning slightly as her fingers did another quick tap dance on the tabletop. "I help them to take care of themselves. But I do let them live in my rooms - I'm away so much, anyway... provided, of course, that they pay most of the taxes themselves."

"Children this small?" Judeau asked, studying the third statue which was of a very small, smiling girl. She looked to be four, maybe five years old. "How do they earn money for rent?"

"Oh, these figures are old, they've grown a bit since then. But, well, I have certain connections - especially in the Academy, so I get them apprentice spots that pay with money instead of food and lodgings." She cleared her throat again and frowned sternly at him. "If they are to get anywhere at all in this world they need to learn how to handle real money and how to use them to take care of each other. I firmly believe that, and so far it's working out nicely." Then she softened some and sent him another strange, kind of secretive little smile as she continued, "But then, they are phoenixes."

Judeau wryly raised an eyebrow in response, holding back any further comments on her strange and unexpected foster-motherhood for the time being. "Okay, I'll bite - again: What do you mean by that? I thought the phoenix was some kind of mythical bird?"

Samina nodded, still with the same secretive little smile on her face. "It is. Do you know the story of the phoenix?"

"Yeah. Isn't it immortal or something?"

The scar-faced woman shook her head and looked down at the four little figurines before her, fussing a bit with them before speaking again: "The phoenix is not immortal. In fact, it is a very frail creature - but each time it dies, it is reborn again. Every Candlenight, I tell these kids the story of the phoenix, whether I'm there with them or far away, like now. I know Tann is probably telling it to the others right about now, so if you don't mind, I'd like to start. After that, I promise I'll explain what I mean when I call someone a 'phoenix'."

Surprised yet again, Judeau couldn't help a warm smile spreading out onto his face. "You do this together, like a coordinated event? That is... unbelievably cute. Really. Samina, this is a side of you I've never seen before. These kids must really mean a lot to you."

She shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat, muttering something about being the only one they (presumably the children) had and that certain routines were good for them, and then she took a deep breath, noticeably collected herself, and started telling her story without further ado.

"Once upon a time," she begun quietly, not looking up from the four soap-stone children on the table, "There was a city. The people who lived in this city were very happy and well-off, because it very rarely happened that the surrounding land was struck by draughts or floods, and commerce was always booming. The people said amongst themselves that all their good fortune was because of the phoenix, the big, beautiful bird with feathers of all the colours of the rainbow, that nested in their land. They called it the Bird of Fortune and were very careful to make sure they treated it right, so that it would never fly away from them.

But the king who lived in the city was not at all happy with this. He lived in constant fear that the bird would one day choose to fly away from his kingdom, and never come back, and the thought of losing all the good fortune of the land left him no rest.

Perhaps, the king thought one day, the bird could be tamed - then his kingdom would have eternal fortune and his royal self would never have to suffer another night of fitful sleep.

So the king sent all his trappers and hunters out to capture the phoenix, and spent a fortune on building a large, gilded cage for it in his royal garden. But the bird was not easy to catch - only when two months had already passed did the trappers and hunters finally return with the beautiful bird, larger than an eagle but with a neck as long as that of a swan and with every colour of the rainbow on its shimmering feathers, tightly bound and shackled. And half of them were gone, never to return, for they had upon seeing the magnificent bird felt so ashamed of what they had come to do, and been filled with such an inexplicable dread at what would happen if they succeeded, that they had promptly turned away from their king's orders and fled the country.

But the king was happier than ever. He brought the bird out into his royal garden and showed it the gilded cage.

'Look what a nice home we have made for you,' he told the bird. 'And you will never have to want for anything ever again! You will get the finest food and all the fresh spring water you could drink, and many servants who will wait on your every need! Now you will never want to leave us!�

But the phoenix merely lifted its graceful neck and looked at the cage, and let out a single sound of such utter grief that more than half of the remaining trappers and hunters had to turn their faces away in shame, and some of them quietly snuck away when no one was looking their way. For they saw, just as the phoenix did, that no matter how large or how gilded it was, the cage was still a cage.

Not even the king was unmoved by the sadness in the phoenix' voice, but he smiled and comforted himself, thinking that it would merely take some time for the bird to adapt to its new life. Then it would surely realise how fortunate it was.

So he locked the bird in the cage and hung the key around his own royal neck, and rewarded the remaining trappers and hunters generously for their deed, and that night he slept soundly for the first time in many years.

And the legend proved true: Fortune seemed to flock to the court as soon as the phoenix had been captured, as the princess, who had been suffering an illness since very early in her life suddenly became healthy, and accepted the proposal of a prince from a neighbouring country. This made commerce increase even more than before, and sent many dignitaries from other places to the court for the wedding, giving the king many excellent chances for diplomacy - and somehow it came to be that every deal struck within the castle walls later turned out to be very profitable for the king.

The king happily showed off his beautiful bird to anyone who wished to see it, but most left the cage feeling vaguely unsatisfied, for the phoenix just sat there at the top of a magnolia tree and looked up at the sky through the golden bars. It never sang, never looked down, and hardly even moved.

But still, the beautiful bird was the talk of the city, and all dignitaries commended the king on owning such an exquisite animal. The king was very happy, and for a while, everyone lived happily in the country.

But then spring came, and the first flood of many years struck the land. Fortunately, the king and everyone who lived in the city benefited from all the new trade agreements and hardly even noticed the problem, but the people further out in the country were much more hard pressed. They started saying to each other that since the king had taken the phoenix to him, the fortune had fled those who were too far from the caged bird. But they were few and far away, and nobody paid much heed to their complaints.

The king was far more concerned about his bird, for the phoenix' retainers were telling him that the bird had almost stopped eating entirely, and its beautiful feathers were starting to look dull. And still, the bird would not leave the top of the magnolia tree, nor look away from its view of the sky.

Then spring turned to summer, and drought followed the flood. Still the people in the city did not suffer in any way, but farmers all over the country felt the effect. Creatures started dying, and the crop failed. Fields lay brown and barren everywhere, and the whispers that the king had stolen all the good fortune in the land when he captured the phoenix became angry statements. Resentment seethed in the country, but the king told his people not to worry, that fortune hadn't deserted them - after all, thanks to his profitable trade agreements, he could provide food for most of them during this hard time. So some of the city's resources were redistributed to the rest of the country, and the protests stopped.

But the people were not happy, for now they all starved - Even the ones in the city who had done so well during the spring. But the king was too busy worrying about his phoenix to pay any attention to such matters: the bird had started to lose its feathers and looked truly pitiful now, as every feather that fell had been robbed of its colours. Dull grey feathers littered the ground beneath the magnolia tree, and the scruffy phoenix itself had started hanging its head, no longer gazing up at the sky. It looked so tired, pitiful and sad that the king could no longer show off his treasure to the visiting dignitaries.

Autumn followed summer, and with the cold came a terrible illness that swept through the country like wildfire. But even when the people in the city suffered and died from the disease, not a single one of those who lived in the castle seemed affected. The resentment that had grown in silence all through the summer now blossomed and spread as rapidly as the disease itself.

'The king has betrayed us,' the people said to each other. 'He sits safe in his castle with his precious bird. The bird that he stole from us! If it weren't for him, we would not be suffering like this! Everyone knows that it was the bird who gave us our good fortune, and the king just couldn't stand the thought that everyone could have an equal share!'

The king's advisors tried to tell him about the restlessness of his people, and some even advocated that the phoenix should be set free again to silence the protesters, but the king would not listen to them.

'Set my bird free?' he said to them, 'I can not do that! Look at him, he is sick. What he needs is care, not freedom. In fact, I am certain that the misfortune that has befallen us is because my phoenix has fallen ill. What marvellous luck that I captured him when I did! Just imagine what would have happened if he had died, untreated, out there!'

So the king summoned all his doctors and healers and promised great rewards to the man who managed to cure the phoenix, assuring them as well as his reluctant advisors that as soon as the phoenix was cured, fortune, happiness and health would again return to the land.

But the phoenix would not let itself be cured. It remained in the magnolia tree, its head hanging limply and its remaining feathers slowly but noticeably turning more grey and dull by the day.

Then winter came, and the king who ruled the country next to the country of the phoenix made a decision. For many years he had envied the land of the phoenix its good fortune and rich crops, but he had never really thought it was all thanks to the bird. But now, after all that had happened to his neighbour in the past year since the phoenix was captured, he had become more and more certain that the old tale was indeed true. This excited him to no end, because he knew that what had once been captured could be recaptured, and if he could possess the phoenix for himself, then all the fortune he had envied for so long would finally be his.

So when the people's resentment towards the king of the land of the phoenix was at its peak, and the winter would make the hunger-stricken soldiers weak and tired, the neighbour king invaded the land of the phoenix with a strong and well-prepared army. His aim was the phoenix itself, but he was not so unambitious that he wouldn't take this chance at possessing the entire country at the same time.

And as battle raged across his lands, the king of the land of the phoenix locked himself in his castle, pressuring all his doctors and healers to quickly heal his bird so that fortune would return to them. For by now, the king had become so obsessed with the phoenix' health that he thought if he just got the bird well again, everything would immediately turn back to the way it was, with no hunger, no illnesses and no invading army.

But the phoenix had tucked its head under its wing, leaned itself heavily against the magnolia tree and stopped eating altogether. One of the doctors made a last attempt to reason with the king, as the hostile army had almost reached the city itself.

'Your bird is very ill, my lord,' he said. 'But it has nothing to do with its body. It is an illness of the heart. It can be cured, but only by giving him back what he has lost. You must give him free, my lord, or he will die from grief.'

But the king was only enraged by this and had the doctor thrown out of the castle, along with everyone who agreed with him. Even as the conquering army swept through the city itself, he stood beneath the magnolia tree and begged the phoenix to get better fast. And the bird just sat there with its head tucked under its wing, dead to the world.

But when armies conquer cities, everything is very confused and many people are panicking, and since it was winter, a lot of fires were lit throughout the city. Frightened people grabbed torches to fend the enemy off, dropped lanterns filled with oil and accidentally ran through the flames, kicking embers into hay and cloth all around. Pretty soon the whole city was so much ablaze that the invading army had to retreat - the castle that was their goal was completely surrounded by flames.

Fortunately, one of the oldest servants in the castle knew of a secret underground passage, and so everyone in the castle managed to escape the furious firestorm. All, except for the king. His retainers begged him to leave with them, to realise that the battle was lost and that the phoenix had failed them, but he refused to listen to them. When they tried to drag him away from the cage by force, the king fought them all off and locked himself in the cage with the dying bird. He would not let go of the thought that if he could just get the phoenix' attention, all of his problems would immediately be solved.

Even as the servants ran from the flames, and the gilded cage started to collapse from the heat, they heard the mad king's desperate, raving pleas to the motionless bird.

Everyone gathered outside the city to watch it burn, merchants and aristocrats, priests and paupers, mothers, children and soldiers, all huddled together in terrified awe of the raging firestorm. And then, at the peak of the flames' fury, they all witnessed how the great castle collapsed in on itself, and a single flame leapt high into the air as if to escape the devastation below.

Children wept and their mothers choked back tears as they tried to comfort their young. Soldiers stared melancholically at how their great conquest went up in flames. Men dropped, crestfallen, to their knees, watching their homes burn to the ground. But then someone pointed to the sky and one by one they all looked up.

The lone flame that had leapt so high into the sky when the castle fell still hung there, suspended in the air, and as everyone watched it seemed to grow in size. Only when someone cried out in terror did they all realise that the huge ball of flames was actually hurtling their way, and they begun a desperate rush to get out of its path.

The crowd was chaotic at first, screaming and pushing each other to escape the roaring fire, but very soon, almost as abruptly as it had started, the mad scramble slowed to a confused halt. Every head turned towards the bright projectile and an expression of wonder came to every face, because the fire did not roar. The sound that reached the stricken people was something else entirely - a sound, a song, a wordless melody and an emotion all at once. It filled their hearts and soothed their souls. It spoke of life, of freedom, and of overwhelming happiness, in words no one could grasp or define but that everyone could understand.

And the flames passed over them without burning, and just when it was right above the crowd the fires flared up and died away, and in their stead, like a butterfly that had finally burst free of its cocoon, was the phoenix. It spread its magnificent wings and stretched out its long, graceful neck and flew on, its feathers shining with every colour of the rainbow - more brightly than ever before - without ever breaking off its beautiful, wordless song.

And the soldiers suddenly smiled, because even though their greatest prize had slipped through their fingers, they realised that they had indeed conquered an entire country, and what was more: They were all so fortunate as to still be alive.

And the men suddenly smiled, for even if they had lost their houses and their jobs, they still had a pair of good hands and their health, and they remembered that houses can always be rebuilt and that many good hands would be needed to repair the fallen city, and they took their families into their arms and thanked the gods that they were alive and well.

And the mothers suddenly smiled, because their children - in all their innocent wisdom - were laughing out loud with the sheer joy of being alive, and of having seen something so remarkable and beautiful as the phoenix.

And the rest is, as they say, history. The people rebuilt their city and accepted the neighbour king as their new ruler, and the new king reigned well over them all, and although no more great tragedy or war struck them for a very long time, the country was never again remarkably fortunate in any way.

And the phoenix was never again found nesting in those lands."

Judeau sat in silence, having watched with almost transfixed fascination as the scar-faced bounty hunter had slowly gotten caught up in her own story. Her face had gradually softened and her voice had changed, and after a while she had even started animating the tale with expressive hand gestures and different voices. The scout exhaled slowly through his nose, unknowingly making as little noise as possible, and watched the warm glow of her odd-coloured eyes, heard the gentle softness of her voice and noted the unmistakable excitement in her movements and gestures. There was little doubt that Samina truly enjoyed storytelling - or maybe just telling this particular story - and Judeau found that he just could not stop smiling at her.

When Samina decided to start sharing, she sure didn't hold back. She was showing him a whole new side of herself, that he had honestly never had a clue to before. He had known, of course, that she had a soft heart, but to think of her as such a warm, motherly and awkwardly poetic storyteller was quite beyond his scope. He could never have thought that she would show him something so intimately private, so suddenly - it was not consistent with the image he had perceived of her up to this point.

Judeau felt almost frightened, as if he had been let into a sacred chamber without having been told what he could and could not do to avoid committing some sort of sacrilege - but more than that, he was really happy. An emotion that bordered on exhilaration.

Watching her through the shimmering air above the candles, Judeau found himself once again drawing parallels between the scar-faced bounty hunter and Caska of the Hawks. Caska had also had a soft, gentle heart, so much more vulnerable than she would ever let on. To protect that gentle heart from the hard life of a soldier, she had always projected a tough, masculine image, that in fact didn't really match who she was on the inside. And she would never let anyone into that "sacred chamber" of hers, keeping all softness and gentleness - beyond that rare, shy smile of hers - to herself with such fierce determination that it was clear to anyone who cared to notice that she was afraid and ashamed of that part of herself. She had devoted herself to Griffith, heart and soul, and since he didn't want her as a woman, she had shunned that aspect of herself as well, probably thinking that that would make him appreciate her better. Judeau had always found that so very sad - and, in the end, despite his foolish dreams and efforts, it had not been him who had finally managed to lure that warm kindness out of her.

But Samina had confided in him, showed him her femininity in all its warmth and vulnerability without holding back, and he was feeling very grateful - along with a strong sense of obligation to her now: How could he possibly repay that kind of trust? And why had she chosen to confide so in him in the first place?

Well, a good start as to answer either question would probably be to actually say something. Samina was still looking down at the soap-stone children and seemed to have forgotten all about him.

"That was a beautiful story." Surprised at the subdued softness of his own voice, Judeau quickly had to suppress the urge to clear his throat in embarrassment as the bounty-hunter looked up and met his eyes - but the honest, brilliant smile on her face caught him by even more surprise and he remained still, chin resting in one hand.

"I know." Her voice still had that melodious warmth in it. She looked down again and fussed a bit more with the figurines as she spoke. "And I know it's supposed to be some sort of moral story, like 'fortune can't be governed' or 'he who tries to have everything will lose it all' or something like that, but ever since the first day I heard it, I've always been more fascinated with the idea of the phoenix itself. Such a frail creature, that will die of grief just from being put in a cage, yet so very strong, and so powerful, in that it can turn utter disaster into a glorious rebirth... And what more: It can inspire others to do the same. I mean, talk about 'rising from the ashes of destruction'."

She paused, lifting one of the soap-stone figurines up to her face for closer scrutiny. It was another little girl, who was almost as serious-faced as the lanky boy. Sensing that the bounty hunter had more to say, Judeau waited quietly until she began speaking again. He felt confused, as if he understood something without yet knowing precisely what.

"That story inspired me once," Samina said quietly, "And now I tell it to these kids, hoping it inspires them too. They're all like I used to be, too young to take their lives into their own hands but still determined to do it rather than to just lie down and die. Fate has dealt them all a cruel hand - Like Ninna here, who lost her entire family in a bandit raid - but they have decided to play it anyway and try to turn disaster into triumph. And that's why they are phoenixes. Do you understand?"

Still smiling, albeit perhaps a bit dazedly, Judeau nodded at her. "'Rising from the ashes of destruction.' I get it. Now that I know the story, that's a good analogy."

She smiled back and carefully put the little figurine in the bag, letting the others follow as she spoke. "Good. I rather like it, myself. It may be a little pretentious, but even people like me or these kids should get to feel pretentious sometimes, shouldn't we? 'Sides, it makes for good motivation."

"Yeah, I guess so," Judeau mumbled, but in truth he hadn't been paying much attention to that last bit. The lurking insight had finally struck him with surprise, and he was busy readjusting his image of the scar-faced woman across the table from him.

He realised that he had gone a little too far with his comparisons of Samina to Caska. Maybe it was because she was older, or maybe just her personality being different, but the fact was that Samina wasn't at all ashamed or afraid of her femininity. Judeau felt almost guilty for simply having assumed that the two women had to be made from the same stuff, just because they were both able fighters. Whereas a warm, tender moment like this would have been the last thing Caska would ever have shared with anyone, to Samina it was just a slightly deeper insight into the person she was behind her weapons. She wasn't vulnerable now, as Caska would have been, because she wasn't worried about being disrespected or losing face due to her soft spot for underprivileged children.

She has a personality even without Griffith, he thought, and immediately felt ashamed of dismissing Caska like that. It was, after all, Caska's personality that he had fallen in love with in the first place.

Well, all right, maybe not in the first place, but it was definitely what had kept him so captured for all those years.

But Samina was different. That he had to admit. Stronger. More self-sufficient. For some reason the thought struck him that maybe she had been more alone in her life than Caska, thereby having had to rely on herself in a very different way from the very beginning. His eyes narrowed very slightly. Her face looked a bit different now, he thought. That surprisingly brilliant and whole-hearted smile of hers wouldn't be so surprising anymore - it lay there in wait inside that calm confidence that he could now see, in the fine wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, and the calculated little movements that she made.

At first, he was surprised that he hadn't noticed that contented self-confidence before, and then he realised that he had - he just hadn't really understood it then.

And still, there was a sadness and a fear in there, somewhere far deeper down, that he knew he wasn't permitted to perceive but perceived nonetheless. Like that time in the Great City when she had completely freaked out, presumably at the stench of alcohol on the brute's breath: She might be one of the strongest women he had ever known, but she had her demons as well. Her sacred chamber was just a bit further in than Caska's, her weaknesses just a bit less obvious.

"Okay, what? What is it?"

"Hm?" Judeau snapped out of his daze to find Samina frowning with some amusement at him from across the candles.

"Do I have something on my face, or was the story just that captivating?"

"Oh! Er... I'm sorry, I just got a little... caught up in my thoughts..."

"So I see," she chuckled. "I take it you didn't hate my storytelling, then."

"Oh no, that was quite... you have a knack for that, I think. Ever thought about changing profession?"

"Nah, I won't be happy unless I get to kill off the occasional bad guy."

"Heh, I see."

"And you, then? What made you decide to be a mercenary?" Samina put her hands behind her head, leaned back and winked at him. "Your turn to share."

"Me?" He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Well... I suppose it is. Hmmm..."

Judeau thought back, even though he could remember the moment quite well. He was ashamed to admit it, but that was the first and only real decision he had ever made about his own life. Until today. How many years ago...?

"It must have been when I met Griffith."

"Oh?" Samina gave him a look of honest interest. "How old were you?"

Judeau couldn't help but smile. "Oh... maybe thirteen? We didn't pay much attention to birthdays in the troupe. But Papa Alphonse was calling me a 'man' and that made me feel so grown up. I thought I was more than ready to be a soldier..." He cut himself off with a wry shake of his head. "I've learned a lot since then."

"Papa Alfons? Your father?"

"Oh... no. And yes. My parents died of some disease when I was very young, I don't even remember them, and the rest of the troupe raised me together. You could say that I had about three different mothers and five fathers - so if I ever seem spoiled..." He ended that sentence with a mischievous wink that lured a laugh out of Samina. "But Papa Alphonse was our leader. Everybody respected him. He was the one who decided who got to perform and when, when a trick was good enough to be performed and when it wasn't, and most importantly for me, when I would get to join in the act. He was the one who taught me to use throwing knives, and I practised like a demon. When I finally got his approval, I felt like I had truly become a man among men. Imagine my disappointment when I was announced as 'the child prodigy'."

Samina laughed again and he joined her, hearing Papa Alphonse's booming laughter in the back of his mind.

"That's what you've been sulking about all evening?"

"I have not been sulking!"

"Of course you have, Judeau. A grown man would not have let a cheap little publicity trick like that get him down."

"...Publicity trick? You mean..."

"That's just something I said to make them 'Ooh' and 'Aah' a bit more. Judeau, my boy..."

"Man."

"Hah, alright. Judeau, my short man. If you want to be respected as a man, you need to stop worrying so much about what other people think about you. Who cares about the audience? All they have to think is that you are a good performer, because when the evening is over they'll go home and we'll move on. What matters is what we think about you. And we all know you're a grown man now."

"...Okay. I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. I'm the director."

"...Papa Alphonse?"

"Yes, Judeau?"

"You can still call me 'my boy' if you want to. I mean, when it's just us."

"Heh. Alright then."

"Because 'my short man' just sounds silly."

"Yes, doesn't it?"

Judeau could still see the stately man before his mind's eye, preserved perfectly just like he had been that night, with his huge, generous smile, his kind but so perceptive ice blue eyes, his wide gestures and his healthy girth. That was the real Papa Alphonse, not the other, weakened, hollow-eyed, shrivelled old man that had said goodbye with a wheezing whisper...

"He taught me everything," he said, half to himself.

Maybe it was the tone of his voice or something in the way he smiled, but Samina caught on to the discord and asked quietly:

"What happened?"

Judeau shrugged, even though the memory still stung a little. "He was old. He got sick a few years after I had got to join his act, and died. An infection. It went quite quickly."

"And that's when you decided to leave?"

"Um... a few months later, actually. But it was more because of Griffith, and myself, than that I missed Papa Alphonse or anything. I could gladly have kept performing with the others, if it hadn't been for Griffith."

"Really? What did he do that was so great, then?"

The question caused Judeau a moment's pause, and he gave Samina a lopsided smile. "Well... it was the way he talked, I guess. And the things he said. I was also impressed that such a young boy - he was about my age, you know - had such a big gang, with boys who were a lot older than him but still allowed him to lead them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. They sat in the back at one of our public performances and howled and cheered like boys of that age usually do. We were all a little surprised that they didn't try to stir up any kind of trouble, but afterwards, when I met Griffith, I understood that he must have told them not to. There was this... presence about him... I can't really explain it better than that, but it left no one unaffected. Add to that his remarkable white hair and almost unreal blue eyes, and you sort of couldn't really help but stop and listen to him. If for no other reason, then just out of pure, simple fascination."

"White hair?" Samina's odd-coloured eyes widened in disbelief. "He was about thirteen years old and he had white hair?"

Judeau grinned and nodded. "Yeah. And it wasn't even old-people white, you know, all brittle and greyish. It was... like Thirgynn's. Chalk white, like he'd been born with it."

"No way. I've never seen that on a proper human before. Maybe he was a half-elf or something?"

"I don't think so, since there were no elves there. But... I have to admit... after having met Steelwing, I've had my doubts. They do look a lot alike. The dark elf kind of resembled him too, what little I saw of it."

Samina merely hummed noncommittally and shrugged, and changed the subject back onto its original course with a smile:

"So, what did he say? What was it that really made you choose the path of the warrior?"

Judeau thought back and couldn't help but laugh quietly.

"Who are you people?"

"We're the Band of the Hawk."

"Are you the leader?"

"Yes. I'm Griffith."

"Wow... You mean you decide over all those guys? They listen to you?"

"Yes. And this is just the beginning. I'm building an army."

"Really? A whole army? What for?"

"He said he was going to have his own kingdom, one day."

"He did? And that's what turned you around?"

He nodded, chuckling. "I knew you were going to react like that. And it does sound kind of strange if you just think about it for a while, but... the way he said it... You just knew. He was going to get his own kingdom some day. It didn't just seem possible, but inevitable. We talked for quite a while longer, but from that moment, I knew I had to be a part of his gang. His awesome dream."

"Can I... come with you? I know how to fight."

"If you wish."

He felt his smile fade and didn't even try to keep it in place. "The beginning of the end," He sighed under his breath. Suddenly he felt so much older. Sure, he had matured a lot during his years with Griffith and had always been able to pride himself in his ability to keep both feet on the ground, anchored in reality. But still, up to the point of Griffith's betrayal (and, to his own slight surprise, he found himself thinking of that moment as the one when his commander had decided to sneak into Princess Charlotte's bedchamber, rather than the much more traumatic incidents of the eclipse) he had in fact been living his childhood dream - and that dream was over now, and he felt as though the last remnants of innocent, idealistic youth had left him along with it.

It's long past time to stop dreaming, isn't it.

"Whoa..." Samina's subdued voice called his attention back to her, and the expression on her face was very serious. "What dark and scary place did you disappear off to now?"

"Oh, sorry. I just... these things are still a little bit difficult to talk about, I guess."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to force you to remember painful things..."

"No, no, it's all right." He smiled and found that he actually meant it. "It's all right. Maybe it's time I talk about it."

She gave him a thoughtful squint and leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. The pensive pause in their conversation was very carefully breached by her straightforward question:

"Would you like to talk about it?" She bestowed him with one of her small, twinkly smiles. "I might not be the best at sharing myself, but I am a good listener."

Her smile made his widen and relax, and he let another little pensive pause unfold as he considered her offer. "Maybe. But isn't this 'Candlenight'-thing supposed to be about the future? Dwelling on the past was for yesterday, wasn't it?"

She shrugged. "The future won't happen unless you deal with the past. One way or the other."

He gave her a slight nod and looked down at his own hands on the table, trying to organize his thoughts. He had to fight against an inner resistance, and wasn't entirely sure that he should - or really wanted to - be fighting it, so the silence dragged out. After a while Samina spoke up again:

"You know one of my favourite parts of Candlenight? When everyone gathers to see the sunrise and sing songs together to greet the light." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "It always makes me feel like something new is truly beginning. Too bad the Hold doesn't have any windows."

Grateful for the change in conversation, Judeau looked up again. "Well... aren't there lookouts or foxholes or something?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, yes. Of course. But I'm afraid that they would bring us a bit too close to the edge of the Protection Spell, and I just don't want to risk it, what with the presence of demons and... that." She pointed at his branded hand, and Judeau instinctively clenched it into a fist.

"Ah. Yeah." He frowned. "Right."

"Doesn't matter. The candles'll do fine. Feel like some food yet?"

"Not... really..." He spoke slowly because an idea had suddenly popped into his head. "But... I think I know of a good place to eat it."

Samina looked surprised. "Oh?"

Judeau smiled at her, got to his feet and hauled out the food basket - which was a bit heavier than he had anticipated. "Yeah. This is a festival of light, right? So a bright place would do instead of the sunrise, I hope?"

"Um, sure... what are you...?"

"It's a surprise. Though you probably already know of it. But still, just humour me, okay?"

The bounty hunter smiled, clearly as amused and intrigued as she was surprised. He held out his hand to her and after a very short hesitation she took it.

"Okay..."

*
Samina's reaction was just what Judeau had hoped for: The moment the luminous fungi garden came into view she gasped and smiled brilliantly.

"Oh! I had no idea... Wow, it's so beautiful!"

"You didn't know about this place? I thought you'd been here before."

"I have, but... I didn't always have time to explore, and... the last few times I've stayed in the Deep City with Taskkarr and Thirgynn. Oh, this is incredible. I can't believe that they're hiding it like this!"

Judeau chuckled happily at Samina's delight and took her gently by the arm, pulling her further in between the glowing mushrooms. "Come on, I know just the place."

He guided her to the clearing with the pond and finally put the heavy basket down on the smooth stone floor. With a flourish he offered Samina a seat on the bench and was rewarded with a surprised snort of amusement and a very slight blush from the bounty hunter. As he sat down beside her, she shook her head and gave him a reprimanding glance.

"Hopping twerp."

He laughed out loud. "What did you just call me?"

"I just called you for what you are. You got a problem?"

Not dignifying that with a reply, Judeau just leaned back and gave Samina a thoughtful and slightly mischievous smile. "You don't get treated like a lady very often, do you?" He asked quietly. Just as he thought, a small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows.

"Of course not. Since I'm not a lady, you know."

He feigned shock. "You're actually a man!?"

She sent him a murderous glare, but her embarrassed smile rather took the edge off of it. "No! Stop being annoying!"

Judeau just laughed again, and waved his hands disarmingly at her. "All right, all right. If you tell me one thing: Why does it bother you so when I treat you with a bit of chivalry?"

He could tell by the look on her face that she had every intention of blowing that question off, so he quickly added: "Remember that it's your turn to share."

She visibly bit down on her snappy comeback and punched the air in frustration.

"Damn!"

With a frown, the scar-faced woman then retreated into a thoughtful silence. Judeau waited patiently, still amused by how she could be so open about her own tender kindness, like towards her foster-children, yet so reserved when it came to anyone else showing any sort of kindness towards her. It was more than just some sort of coquettish modesty, that much was certain, and to be honest he couldn't help but find it kind of cute, in some strange way.

"Well," she muttered after a while, still frowning down at her own feet, "It's not like you really mean it..."

Judeau's eyebrows rose in honest surprise. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

She gave him a look that was half annoyance, half embarrassed shock. "Come on! It's just a joke to you! The way you always overdo it... you know." She made a half-hearted impression of one of his extravagant bows, without getting up from her seat. Judeau frowned thoughtfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I do tend to do that, don't I? Act like I'm not serious, I mean." He heaved a small, noisy sigh and spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Force of habit, I'm afraid. From trying to keep up the morale of a bunch of rather young mercenaries. I'll try to show more seriousness in the future, then."

As he had expected, Samina made a small grunt of frustration and looked away, but not before he saw her colour rise just a slight bit. "No need, damn it. That'll just make it even worse."

"So you still haven't answered my question."

Her reply this time was a quiet growl. Judeau waited patiently again.

"I don't know, okay? It makes me embarrassed, that's all I know. I guess it feels like you're mocking me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, come on!" She turned fully back towards him and her blush was gone, replaced by indignation and maybe a hint of bitterness. "Like you said, not many people treat me 'like a lady!' In fact, nobody does that but you and the occasional idiot who's trying to be funny, so you'll have to pardon me if I'm being a bit suspicious-minded."

"Ohh." Judeau nodded. "I see. Okay. Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure you get used to it, then."

The look on her face was pretty priceless, and he couldn't help but smile at it.

"...What?"

"What what? You can't possibly expect me to just back off after hearing something like that! You-" He leaned forward and pointed a reprimanding finger at her. "-Have been deprived of chivalry, and that is a real shame. I see no other option than to take it upon myself to accustom you to the feeling of being a little spoiled every now and then. It's something every woman should have, in my opinion."

She bestowed him with a speechless silence and an even more priceless look, before bowing her head in defeat and exasperatedly rubbing her brow.

"Oh, heavens on a stick..." she half-groaned, half sighed. �Fine, whatever."

In order to keep himself from chuckling out loud, Judeau opened the picnic basket and inspected its contents, happy to find a bottle of decent wine and two cups on top of a couple of simple napkins. When Samina looked up again, he offered her a drink and she accepted with a weary laugh.

"To chivalry!"

"Hell no. But I could be persuaded to drink to friendship, I suppose."

After drinking they both leaned back, and Judeau absent-mindedly began following the path of the falling water with his eyes, just like he had done the other day. Samina's silence beside him was companionable, but it didn't drag out for very long.

"Okay," she said, "Your turn to share. Tell me something about your world - geography, politics, religion, I don't care. Just tell me something I haven't heard before, please."

"Right... Something you haven't heard before..."

There were actually a lot of things that he hadn't told Samina about his world, and as the wine dwindled in the bottle they went from talking about the geography of Midland and its closest neighbours to comparing political systems and cultures from both worlds, to finally somehow end up talking about Judeau's past again. And before he knew it, he had told her everything - about his early life as a young, travelling performer, about Griffith and the Hawks and his time with them, about his unlikely comrades, their great battles and fun times, and, in the end, when the wine was long gone and the food in the basket had been reduced to about a fifth of what it had once been, about everything that had led up to the final tragedy.

When he had finished his account of that last, surreal battle � telling it with more detail than he had intended to, but unable to stop the words from flowing out of him � he felt drained. Too emptied to even react to the renewed emotional trauma he knew he should be experiencing, and just leaned his head in his un-branded hand with a weary sigh. It wasn�t that he felt hollow or achingly empty in any way, he just felt tired and numb � as if telling the story had finally made the whole thing truly real, and thereby something he could do absolutely nothing about. Crying or screaming or breaking something wouldn�t change a thing, and Samina would no doubt remind him of that if he were to actually try any such thing.

No, he wasn�t completely numb after all. There was a soft, unobtrusive ache in his chest that whispered of a gentle sadness much preferable to the violent grief and guilt that had tainted his nightmares. He rested in it, wondering how long it would remain this way.

�I�m not even sure what�s worse,� he mumbled half into his hand, �That Griffith betrayed us or that I may be the only survivor.�

He had spoken without thinking, but the moment that the words left his lips he realised just how much that had bothered him, all this time. The thought that he, alone, of all the strong, talented, loyal Hawks had escaped the gruesome death scene was unacceptable to his mind. He was good, better than average even among the foremost of the Hawks, but he was simply not that good, not that special.

�Do you feel that you don�t deserve to live?� The bounty hunter�s quiet question echoed the one in his head, and Judeau frowned at the dark cave pool before him. His answer was slow.

�No� I� don�t regret being alive. I think.�

�You think?�

�I don�t know, it�s� complicated. There�s so much�� He sighed again and closed his eyes. �I don�t want to die. I didn�t want it then and I sure as hell don�t want to now. I�m certain of that much.�

�Okay.� A softness that he hadn�t noticed were missing earlier had coloured Samina�s voice. �So you just simply miss them.�

He finally looked up at her, and her gently smiling eyes somehow made him feel just a little better. �What do you mean?�

�It�s not so hard to understand,� she said. �Just think about it. You�ve basically lost everything: friends, social structure, physical possessions, any aspirations you may have had� all the things that together constitute a worthy life. In a way, you kind of died out there. And yet, you didn�t. You�re still here, forced to cope with losing an entire life. Your friends aren�t � at least as far as you know: Even if they survived, they still have the advantage of being in a familiar place. They would know the politics, the geography and the cultures that surrounded them, so they would not have nearly such a blank slate as you to try to build their new lives on. And if they died� well� As harsh as it may seem, at least they won�t have to cope with their losses the way you do. Who would blame you for envying them?�

Judeau found to his surprise that he was smiling again. Her words provided a comfort to him that he found he needed more than he could have guessed, and the profound feeling of gratitude that came welling up in the wake of her words was also unexpectedly intense.

�How do you do that?� he mumbled, taking in every aspect of her interesting face as if searching it for an answer. �How can you know just the right words, like that?�

For some reason she frowned slightly and looked away. �Because I�m outside, Judeau. If our roles had been reversed, I�m sure you would have seen it, too: It doesn�t matter how smart you are, or how clever - If you keep everything bottled up inside, you can keep thinking about it forever and ever, and you still won�t get anywhere with it. Like my mentor used to say: �from inside there�s only one perspective � too close.� Sometimes, you�ve just got to share to understand.�

Judeau�s smile never wavered. �Sounds like a very wise man.�

�He was.�

Though the bounty hunter didn�t seem inclined to elaborate, Judeau had heard her mention this �mentor� a few times before, but only in an offhanded way � like now � and he was getting pretty curious. Also, he felt like distracting himself from the story he had just told, even if it had been a lot easier to tell than he had feared at first, so he was just about to ask her about the mystery man who had affected her life to the degree that she called him her �mentor�, when they were suddenly interrupted.

�There you are!� Thirgynn�s melodious baritone sounded slightly strained, but as penetratingly sonorous as ever. The miracle-worker quickly rounded the large mushroom that was in his way and halted in front of the two humans, who were giving him twin looks of surprise and confusion. The chalk-haired dwarf�s chest was heaving slightly, as if he had been running, and there was a strange, stern look on his face that could not be interpreted.

�You must come with me. The Khazuvon wants to see you.�

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