The Missing Stone

Scarce Trail

"What!?"

The look on Claude's face is hilarious, and if the situation was anything but this Maris would be rolling on the floor. Unfortunately if he did so that would be uncalled for so he stays rooted in his seat stifling his snorts in the palm of his hand. Glenn is on the other side of the room making tea, and the whole idea about a presumed-dead former royal guard casually brewing tea right before a very important battle during a three way war makes the situation even more absurd.

"Hey, at least I get to say I told you so," Claude recovers quickly despite his surprised outburst and smirks at Maris.

"You know," Maris laughs again. "What you said about the Empire using Crest Stones to make Demonic Beasts sounds awfully familiar." Claude's eyes gleam at the prospect of another secret, but it disappears as soon as it appears. Maris is half convinced that he imagined it, but it's not like he's entirely sure himself.

"Are we set?" Glenn asks, setting the tea tray on the table and standing behind the couch. There's only two cups. Claude leans back against his chair, crossing a leg over the other as if discussing about a potential mass murder of civilians was some gossip. Maris admires his calm demeanor.

"Let me get this straight," Claude starts. "One, the Imperial soldiers are being led by Arundel, a very intimidating person. Quite exciting actually. And two, the archbishop is being held within the Empire and that they're using her for something. Did I get it all?"

Maris and Glenn nod, the former leaning forward to sip from a cup of tea. Claude sighs, rubbing his forehead. "To answer your question Glenn, yes we are set to go. I'll go get the message from Judith." With that he stands and promptly leaves the room, leaving the two spies alone. As soon as the sound of Claude's footsteps fade away down the hall Maris marches up to Glenn, seething.

"You really messed up back there, didn't you?" He hisses, jabbing Glenn's chest with a finger. "What if that wasn't her? What if it was someone else, who would immediately report your presence, either as the dead lord Glenn himself back from the grave, or as an intruder. Either way you would have been bound to get caught, and the consequences would have been the worst considering your presence right after taking back the capital!"

Maris heaves at the end of his short rant, catching his breath. Glenn stands with a defeated posture, head low and hands slack. It's Maris' fault too, in a way. He breathes out, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," Maris apologizes after a moment of silence. "It's not just your fault; I should've been better at teaching you disguise spells-"

"No."

"-what?"

"I said, no," Glenn repeats, catching Maris by surprise. "I don't blame you. And you're right. I nearly destroyed an entire decade of work and waiting because I was feeling nostalgic-"

"Hey, enough with that," Maris interrupts, adopting a face of forgiveness and a reassuring tone. "Like you said: we've been at this for nearly a decade, so it's okay to feel like you're carrying an entire mountain on your shoulders. But this will help them, the people. The future is up to us, Glenn, and I've almost figured out their plans." Glenn looks up, brows raised.

"Figured out what?"

"Well-"

"Am I interrupting something?"

They both jump at the sound of Claude's voice, finding him by the door looking very confused and excited. Maris blinks.

"How long have you been there?"

"Oh," Claude raises a scroll, written and signed by the Duke himself. "I just got here, so nothing much. You said something about mountains?" Maris can hear Glenn sigh near silently behind him in relief. He feels much the same.

"Geography," Maris lies, posture stiff. Claude is a good person and all, but he's too insightful for his own good. People like him can get into serious trouble. Of course, Claude senses that this is not the truth, but doesn't press.

"Well, you have less than a week to get this to Holst, so get the hell out of here before Judith thinks I'm doing ungodly things in here again."

Maris laughs, "Again? What did she think the first time-" He breaks down wheezing, resembling that of a whistling tea kettle. His laughter is infectious, making Glenn snicker and Claude laugh nervously.

"Like I said, get out of here!" Claude makes shooing motions before disappearing into the hall again, then coming back and shooing them again.

"Come on." Glenn helps Maris up from where he apparently fell on the floor in his own amusement.

"How come he calls you 'Fluffy' but doesn't have a nickname for me?" Maris asks off topic. Glenn shrugs.

"He'd probably call you 'Boots' then," he replies, referring to the stark white knee-high boots that Maris always wears. Maris snorts before warping, the deadline weighing heavily on his mind.

-

It's been a week, and everyone is...anticipating. Not that Mildred is saying that she's bored, far from it actually. It's just, while everyone revisits their territories to check in on their families, it leaves her alone with Bernadetta, Linhardt, Dimitri, and the professor. She doesn't see them often either, the latters busy organizing troops coming in from western territories now that Fhirdiad has been reclaimed. The formers are predictably alone in their rooms with at least half of the castle library's books.

Mildred also spends the abundance of free time she has reading, catching up on Fodlan's history and sifting through her gradually returning memories.

The Four Saints...

She knows them. Cichol, Cethleann, Macuil, and Indech. Cichol is the father of Cethleann. She sees Indech as a mentor, and Macuil... a jerk. He's never been one for interactions of any kind with other people, but he's a reliable ally on the battlefield.

Sitting at a table since morning staring down at books has Mildred's neck about ready to snap. She stands, the chair scraping against the floor and the sound echoing in the empty library. She's surprised that she has the entire place to herself, but considering recent events and the ungodly hour, she really shouldn't be. Even the spirits are sleeping, Chester's quiet snores serving as adequate background noise.

She closes her book quietly, blows out the candle, and leaves to find some fresh air. It really has been a long time, she thinks, strolling down a hall that leads to the stables. More than a thousand years...

That's an unbelievably long time to be comatose. She lets her feet carry her, zoning out.

Where are they now? Hopefully healthy and happy as they can be. Macuil could be anywhere considering he's an eagle, and Indech is probably hiding underwater somewhere. She snickers at the last thought. Indech was always a shy person, but had a gifted talent with making various things for others. Macuil was famous for forging weapons with sacred power according to legend, like the Spear of Assal, the Caduceus Staff, and The Inexhaustible. Despite his snappy personality, he was well respected for his talents.

She stops, standing before Seteth's office. He's in there, she can hear him. Why has she arrived here? Then she remembers, remembers from a time where she did not remember. Mildred had remembered Seteth from somewhere, but didn't recall his name, or rather anything, at all. She steels herself, inhaling deeply before pushing the door open.

"Hello Cichol."