Three weeks ago

"The way I see it, we've got an awful lot to thank you for," Melas continued, obviously unaware of the surprise engulfing Kain's mind. Or perhaps just willfully ignoring it. "If you hadn't jumped into the mess, most of the folks here would've just kept shaking in their boots, too scared to leap at the thing. We would've lost quite a few good folks before anyone got the courage to jump in. As it is, I don't think anyone died. A good many got caught up in the mess, there's broken bones and so on, but ultimately, that's nothing. No one dead is the best outcome we could've expected, I think.

"So, thanks. The area'll be much better off now that the nightmare's dead."

Kain shook his head, guilt sinking a weight in his stomach. "No, don't thank me. It followed us down from the mountains. There wouldn't have been a danger in the first place if we hadn't led it here."

"Nonsense," Isidor scoffed, hands leading a golden trail over Melas as he seemed to search for further injury. "Don't you remember what I said before you set out? There's been rumors for weeks about a dragon, well, wyvern. The stories might've been wrong, given that thing clearly didn't have enough legs to be the Apophis of legend, but that doesn't change the fact that it was here before you."

Kain hesitated, the words doing little to lessen the sense of responsibility haunting him. It was too much of a coincidence, wasn't it?

The wyvern had attacked just as he entered the mountains, then followed their group specifically as they fled. Memory of the wyvern staring at him flashed through his mind. His hand reached for his hat, instinctively, then paused as he realized it was missing from his head. Had he lost it in the fight? Loss lanced his chest. If there was a chance, he'd have to search before they left.

He couldn't lose it. His mother's cap was the last thing he had with Iliana missing, and the Airlea left back in Nokos.

"I suppose," he murmured as his mind spun. Issue after issue tumbled over each other in his thoughts, the entire mess only complicated by the fuzzy feeling still flowing through his tired body.

Melas opened his mouth, perhaps to argue further, but said nothing as he caught sight of something beyond Kain. The noble's eyes widened as he leapt to his feet, drawing a startled curse from Isidor. Gold sparks flew from the witch's hands.

"I swear to the gods--"

"Kallicrates?" Melas whispered.

Kain glanced over his shoulder in time to catch Callias' expression as it slid from subtle surprise into utter nothingness. Whatever he might've been about to say was left silent as he paused behind Kain's cot, hands tucked behind his back.

Silence seconds stretched into an awkward pause. Kain glanced between them, taking in the continued shock on Melas' face, and the blankness of Callias' returned stare.

"I think you have the wrong person," Kain ventured. "This is a friend of mine, Callias. Callias, this is Lord Melas Zika."

"Oh, I..." Melas muttered, and Kain heard him drop back into his seat. "I, sorry. You're too young, I just, you..."

"Stay still," Isidor ordered. "Or I'm going to tie you down."

"Sorry, sorry..."

Callias continued to study Melas wordlessly for a moment, before turning his attention to Kain. "You seem well?"

Apparently, they were going to ignore the strangeness that had just occurred.

"Isidor healed me," Kain confirmed. "I'm tired, dizzy, bruised, but in no danger. He said Melitta was okay...?"

If anything, Callias became even more impossible to read with those words. It was if he'd constructed a wall between them, blocking his thoughts from view with flat lips and tense shoulders.

"I said she was, and she is," Isidor grumbled. "Well, will be as soon as I crush the hearts. You'll need to soak as well...Callias, was it? I can see from looking at you that you're mere days from collapse. That's probably why they gave me two."

He was? Kain studied the merman closer. His platinum blond hair had been braided tightly over his shoulder in the short time they'd been apart. It showed off the faded, blue-green pattern that surrounded the scaled gills on the side of his neck. His oceanic eyes felt tired, the faintest hint of circles coloring the skin beneath. There was a pale aspect to his porcelain skin, a touch of sweat on his brow.

Nothing about him said he was struggling anymore than he had before this all began.

"If that's your suggestion, then I will," Callias replied blandly.

"Callias," Melas murmured. "That's a Nubellan name."

Callias nodded, and a quick glance at the guard revealed that Melas was watching Callias with a furrowed brow.

"You're Nubellan," he concluded. "How old are you?"

For a moment, Kain thought Callias wouldn't reply. Then, slowly, the merman looked away, his eyes shifting to the back of the room. Was that where Melitta laid? Kain couldn't' see much past the merman.

"Twenty-two, physically."

Melas narrowed his eyes. "And how long has that been the case?"

"I'm not sure. I wasn't bothering to track the time..." Callias trailed off, then sighed, fingers raising to card through the end of his braid. "Three years, perhaps four. I believe I would be twenty-six had I continued to age."

The numbers clicked in Kain's head, sending a sick feeling to the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the calculation in Melas' face.

The war between Nubella and Reotak had ended twenty-seven years ago with the sacking of the capital. For Callias to place his age around there, given the past Melitta had shared, it was unlikely he'd been conceived before the fall of his country. Which meant it was unlikely his father was Nubellan.

That didn't imply a pleasant history.

"I see..." Melas murmured, then shook his head, offering Callias an apologetic smile. "Sorry for the questions. You reminded me of a friend, is all. But, I suppose it was just wistful thinking, wondering if there was a reason. The more I look...you're shorter than he was, aye, leaner. Kalli was a mountain of a man. And impossible to have--sorry. I've the mind of an old soldier. Sometimes I see things that aren't right."

"I see," Callias replied dismissively, focusing his gaze on Kain once again. He clasped his hands behind his back, frame taut. "I came to make sure you were well. It seems you are. I don't want to leave Melitta for long. We can discuss anything else tomorrow, after she's recovered."

Then, without as much as a goodbye, he turned on a heel and strode away.

That was...odd.

"I think I upset your friend," Melas said, dragging Kain's attention back to him. "Tell him sorry for me, again, if I don't get the chance." His eyes flicked up to Isidor. "Am I finished, Isi?"

Isidor sighed, then pulled his glowing hands away from the noble. "For now. Make sure you check in with me tomorrow, you oaf."

"Yes, sir," Melas said, and stood. "I wanted to stop and talk with our hero friend a bit more, anyways." He looked to Kain. "You were traveling, yes? I hope you'll give me a chance to explain a bit more, and perhaps reward you for your efforts before you take off. For now, we both need rest. You look about to pass out, lad, and me, I'm seeing ghosts. Till tomorrow."

With a farewell wave of his hand, the noble retreated. Kain watched him leave with a furrowed brow, before laying back on the cot as Isidor snapped at him to rest.

Whatever had just happened was beyond him. He'd rest, then solve mysteries.

He closed his eyes with a prayer to the gods that everything would be fine when he woke.

┈♔◦𓇣◦☽◦❤◦☾◦𓇣◦♔┈

"The ocean heart worked as intended. She'll be able to travel by tomorrow morning. Until then, she should rest. No visitors until later this evening at the earliest."

As Kain fled Isidor's shop, the words that he'd spoken when Kain woke continued to roll through his mind. Melitta will live. Rhode will walk. Whether it was my fault or not, they survived.

That was what mattered the most, right?

He shook his head, attempting to cast off the guilt weighing down on him. It was difficult, however. Even as the door clicked shut behind him, it felt as if the noise that had filled the healer's building continued to echo through the air.

Isidor had said Kain was welcome to rest in the room until the others were ready, but it had only taken seconds after the witch started setting Natia's broken bones for Kain's stomach to rebel. He could only thank the gods the child was still unconscious thanks to Isidor's magic, and therefore unaware of the pain that would've laced her entire body. Pain that was likely his fault.

He'd barely taken two steps from the doorway before someone cleared their throat. The source, he discovered, was Melas. The soldier stood only a dozen feet up the street. He held the leather reigns of a beast that took one look at Kain, before rearing up on its hind legs with an unholy screech. Its feathers fluffed like a frightened bird as it spread its wings, which had to have measured at least twenty feet across, if not more. Kain scrambled back, putting ample distance between him and the beast.

"That's--" Kain began.

"Woah, c'mon, what's gotten into you?" Melas demanded as he jumped out of the way of the creature's hooves.

It dropped back onto its front legs and snorted, giving Kain a very clear stink eye. Melas dove back in for the reigns, running a soothing hand along the creature's still fluffed wings. It huffed, and shook its feathers, but made no move to lunge at either of them. Not willing to risk it, however, Kain continued backing up until he'd placed a good fifteen, then twenty feet between him and the nightmare.

"Sorry, sorry," Melas said after a moment, his attention flicking from his beast to Kain. "She's not usually so...aggressive. Isi said you'd probably be in a bit of a rush once all of your group got up and moving around, so I thought I'd see if you were interested in giving hippogriffs a shot, but..."

It was a hippogriff.

Kain had never seen one in person, but Artemios had told him stories. Hippogriffs were a strange mixture of creatures. They had the body of a horse, but the wings, tail, and head of a griffin. While they typically weren't as aggressive as most nightmares, they were still categorized as one since they gods hadn't meant for them to exist. Legend said Taisol had dreamt them up back when the goddess still slept. They were told to have undying loyalty to the master they chose if tamed, but that was rare. Hippogriffs were legendarily independent creatures.

The guard ran a sheepish hand through his hair and Kain cast off his thoughts with a shake of his head, Melas's apology finally clicking in his mind.

"Don't worry about it. That's...I'm not popular among...most nightmares, to be honest."

There was no reason to conceal obvious information. First the wyvern had gone after him, then the hippogriff nearly ignored his master in favor of clobbering Kain. Anyone with the smallest amount of insight would be able to connect the dots. As it was, Melas gave him a curious look, then returned his attention to the hippogriff with a few more, soothing noises. The beast stomped its hooves one more time, and tossed its head, before finally settling its wings.

"Interesting. Well, I guess flying was a poor idea to begin with. Not sure any of my girls would let that nightmare girl on their backs anyways. I bought her here to test that, but..." Melas shrugged. "Guess I'll have to find another way to repay you for saving this town."

Kain put his hands up, heat flooding his cheeks. "As I said before, there's no need. It was the right thing to do. And it isn't as if I was the only one there."

Melas shook his head, but didn't argue further. His eyes instead seemed to fall to Kain's waist. "Oh, I've a better idea. That blade of yours, how did it fare the attack?"

Kain grimaced. He grasped the hilt of his blade, slowly pulling it from its sheath. He hadn't touched it beyond a quick cleaning when he'd woke, too fearful of what he would see. Looking at it now, however, twisted his stomach into knots. A very clear, thin fracture started at the base of the blade, before traveling up, and ending midway across the metal.

Next time he swung it at another weapon, there was a strong chance that the meeting blow would snap it in half. Gods, his luck was shit. He felt sick.

He'd broken his grandfather's blade. That knowledge stung worse than the loss of his cap.

"We've a fair blacksmith in this village. She practices a dead art, making her blades better than most. Aretha could probably fix you up by the time you leave," Melas explained, most likely unaware of the twisting, melting emotion holding Kain's mouth shut. "Well, probably. I'm not sure if she has any of that venom ore smelted up. Here's hoping your luck holds, eh?"

Melas clicked his tongue and urged the hippogriff to turn around. It snorted, and pulled away from the reins for a moment, then seemed to decide to follow him as he started walking. Kain hesitated, but knowing he had no logical reason not to take the offer, he followed Melas.

The noble led him across the small trading village. As they walked, Kain's sensitive ears picked up on frequent whispers, to the point his face burned. He knew what his actions must've looked like to outsiders. They thought him a hero.

Gods, the truth was so bittersweet it hurt.

The fountain they passed served as a distraction from the attention, albeit in a distressing way. The last time they'd all gathered around that fountain had been right before Kain went to Isidor for healing. At the time, Rhode and Dalphie had gone off to shop for what they would need to pass the mountains. Afterwards, when they'd run off to chase the kidnappers, it had just been Rhode and Melitta.

Where had Dalphie gone?

According to Rhode at the time, Dalphie had scouted ahead while they waited for him. They should've seen her on their way up the mountain, but they hadn't. Isidor said he'd only seen one siren, Rhode.

The only possibilities he could think of were that one, they'd lied to him when they said she'd scouted ahead, or two, she'd gotten tangled up in the kidnappers and Kain hadn't noticed because of the disaster that whole time had been. The first made no sense, so he was disinclined to believe it true. When it came to the second, there was an easy way to find out if he was right. The nightmare had to have been traveling with the kidnappers.

He'd ask her when she woke up.

Melas stopped outside of a small building. Hanging above the doorway was a wooden sign depicting a hammer and chisel. They'd arrived at the smithy.

"You stay here," the noble told his hippogriff, before giving it a soothing path on the shoulder and dropping the reins. He then stepped towards the entrance, pushing a hand through the curtains that served as a door. "Aretha!"

Kain gave the hippogriff as wide a berth as possible as he slipped in behind Melas. A wall of heat met him as they entered. The floor of the shop was rough stone, and the walls a faded wood. Weapons and tools of fine make hung on each wall, and two large tables covered the rest of the flooring. Sprawled across their surfaces were various boxes containing about everything one would find at a smithy. Nuts and bolts, nails, pendants and chains.

Like the entrance, settled to the right of the counter was a doorway decorated with hanging curtains. The heat of the shop told Kain the forge likely laid on the other side.

"Aretha! I've a job for you," Melas called.

A series of swears from the backroom was their only answer. A moment later, however, a stout, blond woman pushed her way through the curtains as she rubbed her forehead with a ragged cloth. It seemed to do little good, as a smear of soot still colored her forehead.

"By the gods, if you keep shouting I'll not be taking it," the woman snapped.

Melas put his hands up as if to ward off her irritation. "Sorry, sorry."

The good-natured smile he wore added little weight to the words. Something Aretha seemed to notice, as she offered him a glower, before glancing past him to Kain. Her brow furrowed, before she tossed the cloth towards the counter and crossed the room to offer him her hand.

"Aretha Zika," she introduced. "I take it you're the one he's been yapping about?"

Zika? Kain wondered. They didn't look alike beyond the hair color. His wife?

"Ah, probably?" he replied, taking her hand. "I, um, am the one who helped with the wyvern."

"The one who slayed it," Melas corrected. "And ruined his blade while doing it. Show the lady, Kain."

His face heated, but he followed the request, unfastening his sheath from his belt and offering it to Aretha. She pulled the blade out, before bringing it close to her face and studying it with a frown.

"Beyond a quick fixing," she noted.

Melas rubbed his chin. "I thought as much. I was hoping you could fix him up with something new before they leave. On the house."

Aretha didn't reply right away. Instead, she walked back over to the counter to sit down the sheath, before turning the blade over in her hand, studying each inch of it with a deep scowl. Eventually, she looked up, this time running her scrutinizing eyes over Kain himself.

"This was an exemplary blade before," she said. "The finest make. You some lord's bastard kid or something?"

"Aretha!" Melas scolded.

She ignored him. "You don't look like a knight or noble brat, otherwise I'd guess honest born. Either way, if you're carrying something like this, you don't need a free blade. I'd wager the moment you return home you'd be able to get something recast."

Kain hesitated, then decided to take a page from Iliana's book. She'd always said good lies are sprinkled with truth. "I'm not a bastard. It was a gift from a well-off relative. I've no way of seeing it fixed by them, though."

The blacksmith huffed, dropping her eyes back to the blade. She held it up by the end, studying the hilt. There was silence for a moment, before something seemed to occur to her, and she nearly dropped the blade.

"Oh."

"Sweet?" Melas prompted, drawing closer.

She shook her head, looking at Kain. This time, there was a certain awareness in her eyes that made him want to flee.

"You're the one who fought the wyvern?" she questioned again.

He swallowed. "Yes."

"Right. Okay," she nodded to herself, and resheathed the blade. "I'll do it. I imagine you'll be wanting a venomblade. It'd do you better than this plain stuff. When are you leaving?"

Was she going to leave it at that? No questions? He had little doubt in his head that, for some reason, Aretha had recognized what significance the hilt held. The knowledge formed a ball in his throat, that he had to swallow past to answer her.

Also, a venomblade? What about her realization made her think he needed whatever that was? Had that been what Melas meant when he said Aretha used a dead art?

"Tomorrow, hopefully. If not then, then the day after."

The blacksmith nodded to herself, before mumbling under her breath about ores and elixirs.

"It'll be done."

And with that, she disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Kain alone with Melas and his thoughts. 

A/N: Kain is a bit of a mess, but hey, at least the chapter was a decent length this week! 

What did you guys think? Are you enjoying Melas? Any thoughts on his confusion? What about the offer of a blade? 

Think Kain's guilt is justified, or no?

This marks the end of me catching up on chapters, so the next update will be in two weeks! See you then. <3