"For the vassal, shieldbearer, a necklace of protection." Eirene withdrew an ice-blue jewel from a leather pouch and strung it up between her fingers. Crystals, like frozen teardrops, glittered before her eyes. "Take it."

"Me?" Tenoris said. "Why, I cannot accept."

"It is yours to take," Eirene said shortly.

"But I have done nothing to deserve such a treasure."

"These gifts are no coincidence," she said, lowering the amulet to her lap. "They have been gathered painstakingly over centuries so that they could arrive in your hands. All a part of Oyaltun's preparations. Would you honestly disobey her will?"

"Of course not," Tenoris stammered. "But, why me?"

The old hermit sighed, bowing her head, and it was a while before she spoke again. "It was not only the heres, Son of Cor, who was guided to this place. So were you, and I was made aware of your coming. The vassal, the chronicler, and the orator. Unless… am I mistaken, and your friend here is the shieldbearer of foretelling?" Eirene passed the necklace towards Cliae, but Tenoris reached forward and took it from her hand.

"You are not mistaken. Of course I am he… and chronicler fits you quite well, Cliae."

Cliae sat quietly, taking it all in, as Tenoris fitted the necklace's clasp behind his neck. As the ice-drop gems touched his flesh, he shivered with adulation.

"Those are the crystals of Oyaltun's intellect," Eirene said. "Cold as they are, they can never melt. They will protect the bearer from intense heat. Such was the magic her Sentiescence used to bind with Cor aeons past. Wearing it will protect you from the heres' powers, so that you may remain close and protect them from unseen dangers."

Tenoris' thick fingers caressed the minute jewels, the grime beneath his rough nails seeming at odds with their opulence. His mouth hung open and he breathed heavily, but for once, no words were admitted.

"How does it feel?" Skippii asked.

"Cold," he stammered. "Such reliquary…"

"For the chronicler," Eirene continued, before Tenoris regained the composure to give an impassioned speech. "I give you my library. Here are tomes which will teach you the language of old, and of geometry, as it describes the basic elements and primary concepts. Learn what you can, and quickly, for it shall be your duty to guide the heres through his development. Help to shape him into the being that is needed to oppose the incursor gods."

"All of this?" Claie said awestruck. "There's so much here."

"I have divided the most immediate works into a pile on my desk. I see you have already taken to rifling through them. That is good. The rest… Do as you can."

"What good these works would do in the Library of Clidus. Oh, how we could illuminate the world."

"Be careful," Eirene warned. "There are many who would not like this information known. There is much which reveals the Pantheon for what they are. There are some who would consider this collection a heresy of itself."

"Perhaps," Cliae said. "But such is often so in the catacombs of Clidus. We are Auctorian, of course, and worship the Pantheon, but foremost, our spirit is steeped in the mysteries. We have long since sought questions, where others accept answers. It is what makes the Clidusian library the greatest in the free world."

"Oh, and how travelled are you? How many libraries have you visited which make such an acclaim?" Eirene asked.

Cliae bowed their head, but raised a coy smile. "Two, now."

Finally, Eirene pulled back the cloth on an old brass trumpet. "A fourth member of your party, this was for. But for some trickery or mishap, they are not present. Therefore, you must carry this until the evocator reveals themselves."

"How will I know?" Skippii asked, receiving the trumpet. It was compact and light, with simple runes carved all over its brass. Running his finger over them, he traced their intricate, minute design.

"It will be obvious," she said. "Try and play a tune."

Hesitantly, he held the trumpet to his pursed lips and blew. Though he had done so once before, no sound came out, only the echoes of his rasp.

Cliae laughed lightly, extending a hand. "Give it here." They tried, and managed a squeak, far from melodious.

Tenoris grabbed it next and blew hard, emitting a crude rumble that started them laughing, all except Eirene.

"I must admit," she said. "I have tried, myself, to form a note during one such long winter. I had hoped…" She trailed off, but Skippii could guess at her words; she had hoped to be destined for more than just a hermit's duties.

"Thank you," he said, taking her hand gently in his. "If I had come to this place alone, I would likely have sooner departed in search of something else than discover the trials and decipher the meaning in these books and murals. You've done so much for us."

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"Don't waste it," she said, clasping his hand in her weak grip. "Don't waste your power on war. On the petty rivalries of man. You must rise above that. You must seek the righteous path. Only the blood of Primordials can defend what remains of the world now. Though great hemispheres have already fallen, and darkness closes in, there is yet hope. There is time to reverse the tide. So much, I have not been shown. So much, you will discover, once my story ends. I am jealous of you, Skippii. You shall witness the end of these days and the beginning of the next."

With that, Eirene fell silent. She closed her eyes and crawled into a cot beside the fire. He sat with her, hand on her arm, sharing his warmth with her and building up the fire with so much heat underground that the coals would smoulder for many hours.

"I have made preparations," Cliae said. "We can depart when you're ready."

"I don't want to leave her here," he said. "There's no one to look after her."

"It's not safe outside these walls. Not yet. Perhaps, once we take the city, she can join us there."

He sighed, nodding reluctantly.

"Then, what is our plan?" Tenoris announced, then lowered his voice when Cliae hushed him. "Nerithon is our goal–to aid in the siege. You mentioned monsters. These cyclops of the hills. How might we use them to our advantage? Shall we rile them into giving chase and draw them close to the walls?"

"My plan…" he started. "It isn't fully formed yet, but hear me out. An alliance with cyclops? How is that even possible?"

"Ah, yes," Tenoris raised his voice once again, but Eirene was too deep in sleep to be disturbed. "Our enemy's aberrant pact."

"As far as folklore goes, they're not the most intelligent creatures," he said. "An alliance like that must be unstable. What if we could break it, or deceive them? What if we could turn their power against the enemy?"

"What exactly do we need them for?" Cliae asked.

"I was thinking, we could make them take the brunt of the charge and serve as a distraction," he said. "They might even be strong enough to punch a hole through the stone, if they're angry enough. Meanwhile, Tenoris and I will scale the stone on the north side."

Claie hummed sceptically. "It's frail, as a plan. Many ways it could go wrong. Say you draw the cyclops to Nerithon's walls, what's to stop them from turning around and attacking the legions? How do you steer them correctly?"

"What if they catch us while we give chase?" Tenoris laughed. "How would your new magia fare against such a foe, Skip?"

He sighed and shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know, but I feel foolish for even entertaining it. I saw one of those monsters, and the legs of two more. They came close while I was travelling to this place. I hid from them, but I could sense their size–their weight–their enormity."

"You came close?" Tenoris exclaimed. "How close? Lucky that you are alive."

Cliae's eyes scanned him beneath a thorough scowl. "Were you seeking them out?"

"I was following a trail," he said. "I didn't have a death wish, if that's what you're wondering. I found some supply wagons of the enemy–I wanted to see if there were any provisions."

"Did you find anything?" Cliae said. "Provisions?"

"No. No Ürkün either, and no evidence of fighting, except for… a limb."

"Do you think the monsters betrayed them?" Tenoris said. "This is fortuitous."

"Or was it an offering?" Claie said. "Human flesh for passage?"

Skippii nodded, though his heart hardened at the thought. "I think so."

"How unseemly," Tenoris grimaced.

"But something we could use to our advantage," Cliae said. "Let's start at the end. If the plan is to draw the cyclops to the walls and have them engage with the defenders, then why not deceive them into thinking that we are the enemy. Ambush one of these wagons, disguise ourselves as Ürkün, then attack the cyclops, or throw burning brands into their den and run away. Something like that."

"Or challenge them," Tenoris said. "Are cyclops known to be monsters of noble nature?"

"No," Skippii said. "Unless your mother told you different stories than mine."

"Ah, you are right," he said. "I was thinking of gryphons, but they are not the same, of course."

"They're not even remotely alike," Cliae smirked. "You know what a cyclops is, don't you?"

"One big eye," Tenoris said. "And looks like me, so full of rage, when the chronicler oversteps their mark."

Cliae lowered their head fearfully, mouth forming soundless words.

"You're supposed to give it back," Skippii said, nudging them with his foot. "Go on, you're not a slave anymore. Tell him it makes sense, because his mother looks like one too."

Tenoris chuckled, but Cliae remained slouched and submissive.

"That's okay," they said. "You win, legio. But… what do you think to my plan?"

"It's good," Skippii said. "And I know how to make it better. Crampwolt."

"A plant, I presume?" Tenoris said.

He nodded. "Looks a bit like dead nettle–same white flowers–but with a yellowish hue. I picked some once as a kid, just to inspect it, but a farrier's son stole it, thinking I had gathered the leaves to make a tea. Next I saw him, he had a black eye. He'd boiled the crampwolt and his father had drunk the tea. After the farrier's sickness subsided, he showed his son what he thought of its effects. Cramps, intense but short lasting. In a big enough quantity, distilled to a vial, we could poison the cyclops' provisions."

Cliae nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the floor, lost in contemplation. Tenoris clapped his big hands together and beamed down at them. "Why Skip, how many talents do you have? Strategy and herbology? These alone would impress me without you ever demonstrating your magia."

"I was lucky. A lot of tutors," he said bashfully. "A lot of older brothers, and no need to toil on the legion's trail, except to help my mother pick plants."

A formidable expression crossed Tenori's face as he stared down upon him; there was fondness in his eyes mixed with something else that turned Skippii's head, embarrassed by the sincerity.

"What did I say," Tenoris said proudly. "Never did the shadow of doubt cross my heart with our decision to find you, and to follow you."

"Nor more," Cliae said softly.

Skippii laughed shortly, rising and gathering his things, eager to be done with the melodramatics. "We can depart tonight, as soon as we are ready. Tomorrow, we will pick up the supply trails and set an ambush. It might take a few days to find the enemy; I don't know how frequently they make their offerings to the cyclops, or how often they travel between their safehouses in the mountains. Once we find them, we'll steal their attire, as Cliae suggested, and poison their bribe. Then, we come upon the cyclops' den posing as a parle from Nerithon, gloating of our misdeed. The cyclops will surely be enraged. But we won't let them catch us. We'll trail them all the way to Nerithon's walls, where they'll show the enemy what they think of crampwolt's effects."

Tenoris hefted his shield and spear, standing straight like a legionnaire. "Whereupon we shall seize the victory."

"For Auctoria," Skippii said.

"And the Ninth Legion," Tenoris added.

Cliae pulled a blanket over Eirene and rose above her. "And all of humankind."

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