Archive of Our Own

At the end of a long week, Edmond finally has a spare moment to reply to the stack of correspondence on his desk. Already changed into his nightclothes, he settles into his chair and begins going through the letters.

There are the usual invitations to events—accept this one, politely decline that one. A particularly fancy envelope contains a follow up from the Rose Festival. One of the young men in his circles sent a request for a letter of recommendation, which Edmond is more than happy to provide. He sets it aside to properly address it later.

He smiles at the fat envelope full of handmade birthday cards and drawings from the children at the Temple. He must remember to thank Father Olivine and schedule a visit. For now, he spends a few peaceful moments looking through everything.

Edmond tucks the packet into his desk drawer and absently picks up the next letter at the top of the pile. When he sees the handwriting, his blood runs cold.

He doesn’t read it. Instead, he opens the center drawer in his desk and pries up the hidden panel. He shoves the letter into it with the rest, two dozen in all so far. Eventually, he will need to do something about them—shred them, burn them, anything. There’s no purpose to saving them other than using them as clues to the identity of the sender, but even that is more than he can manage.

After replacing the panel and closing the drawer, his will to keep answering his mail is drained. He rises from his chair and sits for a few minutes on the edge of his bed, trying to clear his head. He cannot dwell on the problem tonight. Even knowing it won’t help, he attempts to fool himself into believing sleep will bring clarity. He slips under the covers and draws them up to his chin.

It takes him more than an hour to finally fall asleep.

Edmond’s squadron is stationed in the Water Territory. After the unfortunate incidents with knights openly fighting for the attention of Father Olivine, it was an agreed-upon action to rotate duties to circumvent further problems. Edmond’s own knights have become well-disciplined and would never engage in such theatrics.

It is the perfect opportunity to stop by and thank the children in person, after which Edmond makes his rounds, seeing to the needs of his men. Despite his lack of sleep, the sunshine and warm breeze are invigorating, and he feels better by the end of the day.

On his final pass through the streets, he turns down an alleyway with little foot traffic in order to cut off part of the route to the meeting point with his squadron. As soon as he does, he hears footsteps behind him. They’re faint, and most likely the person is unaware that Edmond’s hearing is keen enough to pick up the sound. He stops, and the footfalls cease as well.

He’s become perhaps not accustomed to but at least capable of tuning out his somewhat eager following. He’s aware of the way passing young ladies blush and avert their gaze, only to look back when they believe he won’t notice. Some of the young men laugh a little more loudly or shift in order to brush shoulders with him. Until recently, it’s been meaningless nonsense. He has no interest in them, and he suspects they are fully aware. Their intent is unrelated to winning his favor for political gain, therefore he does his best to politely ignore it.

Today, however, each one has given him momentary pause, on alert to see if any of them take a step further. To discern if one of them might bear him ill will. Thus far, none have done more than look his way, and his day has gone on as usual. Until now.

He continues down the alley, each step slightly faster than the one before until he’s running. His boots clack on the cobblestones, drowning out any noise behind him. It seems like an eternity until he’s out into the sunlit main street and rounding the corner. Glancing back, all he sees is a faint shadow slipping past. He leans against a building, the bricks warm on his back. His heart pounds.

This cannot continue. It was likely someone else who needed a shortcut, not someone dangerous seeking to harm him or anyone in his circles. Once Edmond’s breathing slows, he pushes off the wall and heads for the meeting spot.

“Sir Edmond!” Mylan is grinning. “We thought we might go out for a drink now that our patrol is done. Will you join us?”

“Apologies, Mylan. I have other duties to attend to at the Temple to wrap up from our work. Another time?”

“But Sir!” Léandre puts in. “We haven’t yet celebrated your birthday! My biceps were eagerly looking forward to lifting my mug to you!”

Edmond almost chuckles when both Vrai and Thierry elbow him. “I will make room in my schedule,” he promises. “That is my commitment to you.”

“Of course, Sir. Best to you, and say goodbye to Father Olivine for us,” Mylan says, gently guiding the others away.

He glances back, and his gaze meets Edmond’s. There’s a worried crease between his brows, but Edmond only smiles and shakes his head. Mylan turns around and puts his arm jauntily around Thierry’s shoulders as the two share a laugh over something Léandre is saying.

With a heavy sigh, Edmond heads for the Temple. It’s almost silent inside, and he remembers it’s nearing time for prayers. He’s about to look for Olivine when a middle-aged priest stops him.

“Ah, Sir Edmond. Were you hoping to go to confession?”

Edmond doesn’t respond right away. It isn’t a terrible idea. He can express his worries to an unknown priest with the knowledge it will be kept private.

“I would appreciate it. I know the hour is late, but I was only relieved of duty moments ago.”

“It’s no trouble. We know how busy the knights are. Please, follow me.”

Edmond trails after him and thanks the man before stepping into the confessional. He closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts.

“May the God of Klein bless your words, and may my answer reflect His holy grace. What help can I offer you today?”

When the soft voice reaches Edmond’s ears, he’s temporarily too startled to respond immediately. He takes several deep breaths, placing his palm against the cool wood inside the booth.

“I—I need…I have a problem.” Edmond forces himself to speak. “W-with something I should have taken care of a long time ago.”

“Ed-eh-everything all right?” Olivine’s voice falters.

“Apologies, Father, but are you all right? You sound…never mind.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” He clears his throat. “Now, can you tell me what’s going on?”

Edmond reaches into his pocket and pulls out the letter he still hasn’t opened. “I’ve been getting some troubling mail. It has to do with something from years ago, a mistake I made that…cost a friend’s life.”

There’s a long pause. “Are you certain the fault is yours?”

“Other possibilities exist, but there’s no doubt in my mind that my failures were the cause.”

“I see. And these letters…they’re about this same incident?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Did something bring it up recently?”

Edmond doesn’t respond because he’s finally opening the most recent letter. His hand trembles as he draws out the paper. As he scans the content, his heart almost stops. He gasps for breath, staring at the words scrawled on the bottom of the page.

“I-I—I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I can’t—”

He flies out of the booth and runs through the Temple, grateful the other priests are nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t want to deal with anyone else at the moment. Behind him, he vaguely hears Olivine calling out to him, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he dashes out of the Temple and searches for his waiting carriage.

Once he’s safely inside, he feels around in his pocket for the letter, but it’s missing. He must’ve dropped it somewhere in his hurry. His only hope now is that Olivine is kind enough to return it to him without letting anyone else know about what it says.

With nothing else to do, he leans back and closes his eyes. So the footsteps weren’t a mistake or an innocent passerby taking a shortcut. The person behind the letters was looking for an opportunity or perhaps scoping out Edmond’s routes. How long has this been going on? And why now? He doesn’t have an explanation.

It’s for the best that he got no further in his confession. There’s no need to involve anyone else in the situation, much less a priest of the Holy Temple of Water, and least of all a dear friend. It’s up to him to take care of it on his own. He allows the swaying of the carriage and the gentle clop-clop of the horses’ hooves to lull him into a restful state all the way back home.

At his desk, Edmond is having difficulty remaining awake. He’s been staring at the same part of his unfinished report, the words blurring and his head drooping. Exhaustion is finally catching him up, but he must finish this before he can retire. He props his cheek on his fist and tries again.

The knock on his door startles him awake. He raises his head and runs his hand over his face. “Come in,” he calls.

Olivine is in street clothes instead of his Temple robes. He closes the door and pulls a chair up to the other side of Edmond’s desk.

“I told your mother I was here to thank you for your visit with the children earlier today, with apologies for the late hour.”

“But that isn’t why you came.”

“No.” Olivine sets the letter on the desk. “I wouldn’t usually follow up a believer’s confession with a home visit. Things said there are meant to remain in confidence. There have only been two other times before now, both of which involved the safety of someone connected with the Temple.”

Edmond remains silent, not meeting Olivine’s searching gaze. There’s nothing to be done. It’s his problem to solve, this time without causing harm to anyone else. If there is a risk, he should be the one to take it.

“I can’t force you to tell me anything, but you should at least—”

“No,” Edmond says, cutting him off. “I cannot take that chance.”

“This person is threatening you.”

“Are you now in the habit of reading other people’s mail?”

“Edmond, that’s unfair.” Olivine folds his hands on top of the desk and takes on a much more serious expression. “You are the one who came to me.”

“With the expectation that I was offering a confession and gaining clarity, nothing more.”

“You and I both know that when someone is in danger, it’s no longer a matter of simply speaking about what’s on your heart.”

Edmond sits back with a sigh. “You’re right. But what can I do? It’s my fault this happened.”

“That’s what I was trying to ask you before you left earlier. How so?”

“I don’t know how much you heard about what transpired before I became Vice-Captain.”

Olivine shakes his head. “Very little. We are not necessarily provided details about affairs involving the knights.”

“But…you did know about Lucien.”

“Your friend? Yes, but only what you’ve shared. Is there more to the story?”

Edmond hesitates. There’s much he could say here, but he doesn’t know where to begin. Olivine must have some understanding of the situation after reading the letter.

At last he says, “Someone else agrees with me that it was my actions that caused his death. No formal discipline was ever enacted, and I was given my rank as the only qualified person. I still question whether I was deserving of the title.”

“But,” Olivine says, “doesn’t it mean you weren’t responsible if those in charge didn’t blame you?”

“Unless something was swept under the rug at the time. Maybe something even I don’t know about.”

“I see.” Olivine is quiet for a moment. “What does this person want from you? I imagine it’s far too late now to change anything.”

“They are threatening to expose everything unless I give up my rank.” Edmond grips the edge of his desk. “I was followed earlier today, which means they are looking for more proof.”

“There are more letters of this nature?” Olivine taps the envelope.

Edmond considers not being fully transparent, but in the end, he opens his center drawer and pries up the panel to show Olivine the stash. Olivine barely suppresses a gasp.

“It began innocently, straight after the Rose Festival. ‘A secret admirer,’ it said. Nothing unusual. Irritating, but not concerning. I often respond to those with a polite but distanced thanks. My personal stamp is typically enough to satisfy such people.”

Olivine sifts through the pile, his expression changing only subtly as he reads. When he’s finished he looks up, the corners of his eyes crinkling with concern. It only makes Edmond feel more ashamed rather than comforted as he supposes it’s intended.

“You said you received the first one when you returned home after the Rose Festival?”

“Yes,” Edmond confirms. “Two days following.”

“Is there a chance they’re from someone we met while there?”

“I had thought of that, yes. I suspect you are right, although I have no idea who it might be. A number of the oathkeepers were people expressly attempting to become closer to me.”

“Did anyone in particular stand out?”

Edmond laughs wryly. “Aside from that ridiculous butler, no. Since we already know his motivation, I can almost definitively say it was not that man.”

“Agreed,” Olivine says. “And there’s no indication of when the person might escalate?”

Withdrawing an earlier letter, Edmond passes it across the desk. “Here, the writer suggests that they will let me know. However, after today, I can’t be sure they won’t simply follow me until an opportunity presents itself. I will need to be sure I draw attention away from the rest of you in the meantime.”

Olivine is quiet again, his attention on the papers. He flips through them, going back and forth between several letters. Curious, Edmond clears his throat.

“Hm?” Olivine looks up.

“Is something the matter?”

“I think…here.” Olivine turns the paper to face Edmond. “These marks. There’s one at the bottom of each letter. Some kind of code? They’re all different, so it isn’t only a signature or watermark.”

Edmond peers at the corner of the page. Olivine is right; there’s a small drawing there—an egg. Other pages have a book, a baton, a top hat, a cake. There’s a series of numbers beside each one, but there doesn’t seem to be any order to the digits or the pairings.

“Do you have any idea what it means?” Edmond asks.

“No, but I can look for similar puzzles and try to find a solution.”

Edmond sits back with a heavy sigh. “I would appreciate it.”

“While I work on it, you need to tell Eiden about this.” Olivine reaches for Edmond’s hand.

Edmond entertains the touch briefly before withdrawing from it. “You know I can’t do that, and you know why as well.”

Shaking his head, Olivine replies, “Not anymore. He’s grown much stronger. I’m sure you believe you’re doing the best you can to protect him, but—”

“But nothing,” Edmond interrupts. “I will handle this. I only wanted some relief from the stress. You are aware of the situation, should anything happen.”

“Edmond! Stop and think.” Olivine’s hand curls into a fist, but he leaves it resting on top of the desk. “You didn’t come to me because you wanted to vent your frustration. I can help you, but not if you won’t allow me to.”

Edmond glares at him. “Your method of ‘help’ involves telling the one person who shouldn’t know about it. I do not care how you accomplish it, but make sure someone keeps him away from the public areas for a while until I take care of the problem.”

Olivine looks like he wants to say more, but he purses his lips and remains silent. Eventually he stands.

“I can’t force you, but I wish you would listen.”

“Disagreeing doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening.” Edmond gives him a hard stare. “Don’t interfere, Your Holiness.”

Disappointment registers on Olivine’s face at the return to use of his formal title. Edmond knows he’s crossed a line, but if Olivine continues to insist on involving the Grand Sorcerer, he has no choice but to make his stance clear.

“Goodnight, then, Vice-Captain.” Olivine gives him a sharp nod before leaving him alone at his desk.

Edmond drops his head into his hands. Pulling himself together, he rereads the most recent letters and examines the small drawings. The answer is just out of reach, but in time, he’s sure he’ll find it. He must figure this out before anyone else is hurt.

It’s almost another week before Edmond receives another letter. This time, he opens it immediately.

For the previous several days, he’s kept to his regular routine, pairing off the other knights and patrolling their usual locations. They’ve checked in with some of the smaller villages, assisted with transport of donations to the Temple, and maintained their training regimen. Although Edmond has had an eye out for suspicious activity, it’s been quiet.

Now he has a letter, but there’s nothing in it aside from larger versions of the previous drawings and more numbers. He tries to think of it from another angle, but he doesn’t know what sort of code the individual is using to send the message. In a fit of pique, he throws it onto his desk and sits back forcefully.

He’s been staying away from Aster’s mansion for the previous while, excusing it with extra work due to taking time off for his birthday. During that time, despite being out and about in the public areas, he hasn’t seen the Grand Sorcerer. However Olivine managed it, he’s at least kept his word to leave Edmond to handle his own business. It’s some consolation that he hasn’t had to worry about both finding the culprit and making sure he’s protecting the people entrusted to his care.

He leaves the envelope on his desk. In the morning, he’ll take it with him. There are a few people he can consult with privately, now that he has something without other identifying information in it. With that thought in mind, he turns in as early as he can justify it in order to be at his physical and mental best to solve this once and for all.

Edmond gives his men their posts for patrol in the shopping district of the Light Territory. Afterward, he follows his usual route for the first part of the morning. It takes him past several of the usual stalls frequented by various clan members, but Edmond doesn’t see any of them today. It’s slightly odd, but he doesn’t question it for the moment.

As he rounds a corner, however, he almost bumps into Blade. “My apologies!” he says. “Good morning, Blade.”

“Good morning, Little Ed! Are you out on patrol?”

“Yes, just making my rounds.”

“Is that a map of where you have to go?” Blade asks, pointing to the paper in Edmond’s hand.

“A…map of my patrol? No, it’s—” He looks down at it. He’s still clutching the strange letter with the pictures and numbers.

“Oh. Then what’s it a map of?”

“It’s not a map.” Edmond holds it out. If Blade can solve the clues, he might not need anyone else.

“But it is! See? These numbers are places right here in the Light Territory.” Blade points to the one next to the egg and gives a specific location by block. “There’s a whole book in Little Aster’s library that explains how they came up with the system.”

Edmond stares at the page. How did he miss it before? “Yes, you’re right. But what are the extra numbers? Those aren’t part of the grid.”

“Hm, it could be lots of things. Why do you have something like this? Is it for training?”

“Not exactly.” Edmond peers at it. “Do you know where any of these are?”

“Sure!” Blade grins. “This first one is the nice old grandma with the colorful eggs from different kinds of chickens. And this one is the shop that sells the adventure stories Garu-Garu likes…”

As Blade describes each one, Edmond’s heart beats faster. They’re all within the patrol zones where the knights are stationed today. His eye is drawn to the other numbers, but he still hasn’t pieced it together. The only thing he can do is find each one and check the place indicated for signs of trouble.

“Ah! Little Ed, all these numbers have this in common.” Blade points to three digits in the middle of each sequence.

“That’s today’s date,” Edmond says.

“Is something wrong? Should I come with you to check it out?”

“No, that’s all right. It’s a secret part of training.” Edmond only feels a little bad for lying.

“Okay, we can play that game if you want.” Blade grins.

So he’s fully aware that Edmond isn’t being honest. “Listen, I need you to do something for me. Please go find Eiden and make sure he’s nowhere near any of these places today.”

“Mission—protect Darling. Got it.”

And he’s away, already in combat mode. Edmond breathes a sigh of relief and takes off for the first vendor. He’s nearly there when he hears a loud bang and sees a cloud of smoke billowing up two streets over. Edmond runs toward the scene.

A panicking crowd is trying to move away from where the smoke originated. Edmond sees Mylan and Thierry attempting to control the situation. He continues to look around for anyone who might be causing the trouble.

There. He spots someone at the edge of the crowd, ducking down under the smoke and slipping along the sides of the buildings. Edmond circles the outside of the assembled group until he can follow the person.

He temporarily loses sight of him in a particularly dense cloud of smoke, but Edmond is soon hot on his trail again. He glances at the sheet. Now that he understands it to be grid codes, he can cut off some time by taking a shortcut to the next location. He does so now, hurrying down a side street.

The second location is a bookstore. There’s a line all the way out the door and down the block due to a signing event. Edmond approaches from the opposite side of the street and checks his pocket watch. The numbers after today’s date don’t appear to reference a time, which is both a relief and a concern. On the one hand, he doesn’t have to be sure he arrives before a certain amount of time has passed. On the other hand, he has no idea when the next hit will occur.

Four of his men are stationed on this street. Two are guiding people through the line and into the shop, while the others direct foot traffic around the waiting crowd. Edmond doesn’t immediately see anything suspicious, but his guard is up as he walks the length of the street.

When he turns to retrace his steps the other direction, someone emerges from the shop carrying a book. Edmond is about to go in and see if the owner saw anything unusual, but before he can, the person drops the book. It flops open, and instead of the pages one would expect, it’s a box. The person who dropped it yells.

“Back up!” Edmond cries, making a dash for it.

One of the knights managing the line gets there first and hauls the patron back just as grayish-pink smoke erupts out of the open box. Several people cough and cover their faces; one person stumbles and collapses.

“Get help,” the knight orders his partner.

The other two begin pushing the crowd back from the area around the book. As the scene clears, Edmond searches for the person who brought the book out. She’s being supported by an older man, shaking and crying.

“I didn’t mean to!” she keeps repeating.

Edmond approaches her. “What happened?”

“Inside,” she says sniffling. “A man handed this to me and said to bring it out and set it there.” She points to a spot by an unused storefront. “Only I dropped it by accident, and it—it—” She sobs.

Edmond frowns. Nothing about what she’s saying sounds entirely wrong, but it also doesn’t quite ring true. He won’t accomplish anything by accusing her, however.

“Did you see where he went?”

The woman shakes her head. “I assumed he was still in the store.”

He wants to ask her if she’s in the habit of taking things from people she’s never met and leaving them to be retrieved, but he restrains himself. It occurs to him that the person who gave it to her might also be threatening her the same way they’ve been doing to him. Who knows how many more there are being used against their will? There’s no other option but to go to the next place on the map and hope he has more success there.

It’s taken long enough that he’s not convinced he will make it before another incident. All he can do is try. He runs hard enough to the next spot that his blood is pounding in his ears and his breath is coming in ragged pants.

As he expected, it’s already chaos. He doesn’t wait to find out what happened and leaves it to the knights already posted there. Still out of breath and struggling to remain focused, he sprints to the fourth spot on the map. There, too, he must allow his men to manage the situation.

With only one more place to look, Edmond takes a moment to catch his breath and think it through. These were designed as distractions. Whatever this person has planned, it must be something larger. His only hope is that the knights at the bakery will have seen something and be able to give him more detailed information.

The last place on the map is at the edge of the district, near the border. Edmond swallows his fears and hurries there without stopping. As he anticipated, the smoke bomb has already been detonated here. He spots Léandre and heads for him to see if he saw anyone leaving the scene.

“Sir! I’ve heard reports from the others that this is happening all over the market district.”

“That is the case. Did you see anyone who might have been responsible for this one?”

“It was strange, Sir. A man left the bakery and set his purchase over there.” Léandre points to a spot a few meters away. “By the time we thought it looked odd, the bag exploded.”

Vrai joins them. “No one was hurt,” he reports. “I was going to—”

Edmond doesn’t wait for him to finish. He spots movement near one of the side streets. That must be the person he’s been searching for. He begins to walk in that direction.

“Sir?” Vrai calls.

“I’ll be back,” Edmond says.

“Should we go with you?” Léandre asks. “It’s not a good idea to be separated…”

“No, I’m not going far,” Edmond says.

He turns around and ignores the continued pleas of his men, waving them off to help the people near the explosion. As soon as Edmond turns the corner, the sounds fade away. He stops, surprised by how quiet it is. The hairs on his neck stand up.

Without missing a beat, he has his sword out in guard stance. The moment it’s in his hand, a cold sensation washes over him. He shakes himself, but it’s not wet. In fact, a moment later, the feeling is gone, but his motion is sluggish and his sword feels heavy in his hand.

A voice speaks from the shadows. “So in the end, you fell for it. Tch, I’d have thought the Vice-Captain was smarter than that.”

He’s not wrong, and Edmond knows it. Perhaps somewhere in the back of his mind, he appreciates the irony that he may face the same fate as Lucien for nearly the same reason.

“What do you want?” he demands.

The person steps out where there’s more light. “I suspect you already know the answer to that.”

Wyatt Cumbage-Heath. Edmond’s only encounter with him was a lengthy chess game that ended with a forfeit because Edmond refused to allow him to cheat.

“I would prefer to hear it directly from you,” he replies.

The young man circles him. “You and I are going to duel, this time without your extra power and without the help of your friends.”

“My strength does not lie in magic.”

“We’ll see,” Wyatt says. “I’ve heard rumors that you dueled twenty students in a single day, one by one. I prefer to see how you might do if we increased the stakes.”

Several more people emerge behind him. Edmond doesn’t recognize them as being from families in his circles. They may be friends of Wyatt’s, or they may be no more than hired men. Not one of them has any real association with Lucien’s family, any more than Wyatt himself does.

Realization dawns that Wyatt did his fair share of research into Edmond’s past. He knew exactly where to hit and how hard in order to force him to this position. Not only that, he and the others set up a series of distractions that would ensure they’d never be considered suspects.

Edmond admits they almost had him, but as he shifts with the weight of his sword, a small sound reaches his ears. He allows a deadly smile to spread across his face. From the looks the others now bear, they weren’t expecting this reaction.

“You have, I believe, forgotten one very important thing,” Edmond says.

Wyatt sneers. “And what might that be?”

“Me,” Eiden says, stepping up next to Edmond and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“And us,” Mylan adds as he and the other knights draw their swords.

For once Edmond is grateful Olivine never promised to keep everything to himself. When he glances back, not only is Eiden at his side, but Olivine, Quincy, Rei, and Blade are all there too. He cannot be certain, but he thinks he even saw a brief flash of purple in the background.

He feels the warmth of healing magic flowing from the place where Eiden’s hand is resting, partially freeing him from whatever the young man did to him. But the temporary pause is enough time for Wyatt to leap forward and slash at Eiden, grabbing Edmond as Eiden ducks aside to avoid the blow.

The next several minutes are a blur as Edmond battles Wyatt. Around him, he hears the sounds of the others taking on the rest of the group. Eiden wasn’t able to completely lift the effects of whatever Wyatt did to him, leaving him with reduced strength. Edmond does his best, but it doesn’t take long before Wyatt has him backed up against a wall with his sword pointed at Edmond’s chest.

“You!” he snarls. “You humiliated me.”

Edmond swallows. “So you wanted to do the same?”

“I want you destroyed,” Wyatt says.

Instead of running Edmond through, he lowers his sword and punches him first, causing his head to slam back into the wall. Then he raises his sword again. Before he can strike, a ball of intense light slams into him from behind. He howls as he collapses to the ground.

“You cheated!” he screams at Edmond from where he lies. “A duel is one on one, and you lost!”

“A duel,” Edmond says more calmly than he feels, “requires honor from the start. This was never a proper duel.”

Mylan steps forward and grabs Wyatt, hauling him to his feet. The knights now have charge of the group. Mylan pushes Wyatt toward them and pulls Léandre, Thierry, and Vrai with him. He directs the others to arrest everyone connected with Wyatt’s plan and take them away.

“Sir, are you all right?” he asks, looking Edmond up and down.

“I’m fine. How did you all find us?” Edmond peers around Mylan to eye Olivine.

“It wasn’t me,” Olivine says.

“Blade told me about the map. I thought it sounded weird.” Eiden shrugs. “When something is off…”

“We’re the first people he goes to,” Olivine says. “Some of us were already here, doing our marketing.”

“When all those bombs started going off, we went to collect as many of the knights as could leave their posts,” Eiden says. “Sir Léandre told us where you’d gone.”

Edmond wants to answer him, but whatever Wyatt used on him is still in effect. He sways, and Quincy catches him. Gently, he lowers him to sit with his back against the wall.

“Here,” Rei says, offering him a drink of something.

Edmond looks to Eiden, who chuckles. “It’s safe,” he says.

While Edmond downs the potion, Eiden and Olivine carefully heal him. Eiden finishes lifting the spell, while Olivine tends to the cuts and bruises on his face. Within minutes, Edmond feels much better.

“Sir?” Léandre says, his voice more hesitant than usual.

“Yes?”

“I-I’m sorry if I was out of line earlier. About not wanting you to go off on your own.” His cheeks turn pink. “You tell us often that we mustn’t get separated, and I thought…I was worried.”

“I appreciate it,” Edmond says. “As well as commending you for learning such an important lesson.” He’s too weary to say anything else.

“Sir, your carriage is waiting,” Thierry says. “Let us help you get there so you can go home and rest.”

“I’m going with you,” Eiden says.

Edmond doesn’t have it in him to protest when Blade picks him up and carries him like a child.

They arrive at Edmond’s home to be greeted by his mother. She welcomes them both warmly.

“Grand Sorcerer! I was not expecting you. What a lovely surprise.” She kisses Eiden on both cheeks.

“Edmond enlisted my help dealing with the people who caused the commotion in the marketplace today,” Eiden tells her.

“Oh?” She raises her eyebrow at Edmond in exactly the same way Eiden sometimes does before returning her attention to Eiden. “I did hear there was a situation. I’m glad you were able to be of support.”

“Ahem. Yes. We were about to go…debrief,” Edmond says.

“Of course.” His mother squeezes his shoulder. She gives Eiden another embrace, leaning in to whisper something Edmond doesn’t catch.

Eiden grins. “I will,” he promises, making Edmond fight to suppress a huff.

They ascend the stairs to Edmond’s chambers, Eiden trailing after him. He doesn’t look back even though he knows his mother is watching them go, waiting for them to be out of sight before she returns to her room.

The moment they’re inside, Edmond closes the door and sags against it. In theory, he should not be so tired. It wasn’t even a full day of work, and he left the end-of-day exercises for Mylan to lead. But the previous few weeks’ worth of stress are catching him up, and Edmond is weary.

Eiden clasps his hand and tugs him away from the door. Edmond tries to resist and stand on his own, but Eiden is nothing if not both perceptive and persistent. He slides an arm around Edmond’s waist and supports him until he can help him sit on the bed.

“I’m going to go run a bath for you,” he says.

Edmond only nods. He listens for the running water before unfastening and removing his boots. The scent of lavender perfumes the air, wafting from the bathroom. Edmond inhales, letting it soothe him as he attempts to clear his mind.

“Hey.”

Eiden is shaking his shoulder, and Edmond stirs. He doesn’t protest when Eiden helps him up and into the bathroom. When he doesn’t move even after the door is closed, Eiden slowly begins to peel off his uniform. The feel of the humid air on his bare skin shakes Edmond out of his semi-lucid state.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he demands.

Eiden backs off. “I’m helping you. You’re pretty out of it. Are you sure you’re okay to get in the water?”

“I—” Edmond shakes his head. “I don’t know…”

After stripping off the last of Edmond’s clothes, Eiden removes his own. He guides Edmond to the tub and helps him step in, following right behind. Eiden turns him so Edmond’s back is to his chest, and then he slowly lowers them both into the warm, bubbly water. Edmond sighs as it hits his naked bottom.

Gently, Eiden scoops water over Edmond’s hair, wetting it. He grabs a bottle from the side of the tub and pours the liquid into his palm. Starting from the ends and working his way up, he washes Edmond’s hair. When he reaches his scalp, he massages it with firm but tender strokes. Edmond leans back against him, closing his eyes.

Eiden makes no move to do more than bathe him, rinsing the soap from his long hair and then moving it over his shoulder. He takes a soft cloth and wets it before adding the soap. He uses the same care to scrub Edmond’s back that he did while washing his hair. Next, he bathes Edmond’s arms, kneading the muscles as he cleans his skin.

“Are you in any pain?” he asks.

“No. You and Olivine healed my injuries well.” Edmond turns his head. “I had no idea you were so skilled.”

Eiden laughs lightly, his cheeks turning pink at the compliment. “I’m still new at it, but Olivine is a good teacher.”

“Indeed.”

The feeling of the day’s grime being washed away is rejuvenating. Edmond rests against Eiden, giving him better access to his chest and stomach. He reluctantly admits it’s nice to be taken care of in a way he hasn’t been for many years. Closing his eyes, he concentrates on the sloshing of the bath water, the fragrance of the soap, and the feel of the cloth on his body.

Eiden turns on the tap and rinses away most of the soap. They’ll need to stand to finish, but this is good for now. He pours water down Edmond’s back and follows it with light brushes of his fingertips. The sensation makes Edmond shudder a little. A pleasant ripple travels down his spine.

Pausing, Eiden says, “Edmond?”

“Mm. Continue.”

Edmond feels a puff of air on his neck, making the hairs stand up from the mild chill. A moment later, Eiden’s lips are on his skin, kissing softly and trailing his fingers after. He licks a stray drop of water from Edmond’s shoulder. The sensual touches cause arousal to roll through him, settling between his legs.

The hand with the washcloth slides farther down. Eiden’s other hand rests on Edmond’s upper arm. Edmond shifts to allow him to slide his arm underneath, giving him access to his chest. He feels Eiden tremble against him.

“Edmond…” Eiden whispers. “How does it feel?”

“It-it’s good,” Edmond says. “T-touch me more? Please.”

“Yeah.”

Eiden takes the washcloth and wraps it around Edmond’s swelling cock. He begins a slow, lazy stroke at the same time he reaches for Edmond’s nipple, coaxing the little bud to emerge. All the while, he keeps his lips on Edmond’s neck, kissing and sucking at his most sensitive spots.

Pleasure builds bit by bit until Edmond is sure it’s going to consume his entire being. It isn’t like the times heat races through him until he can’t hold it in. Instead, it’s a gradual bloom, growing until all Edmond can do is lay his head against Eiden’s shoulder, panting and gripping the sides of the tub. Eiden maintains his steady pace, stroking Edmond’s cock and rolling his nipple in time with each other. He’s murmuring sweet words of praise into Edmond’s ear until he can’t bear it any longer, moaning openly. Eiden gives one last twist of his hand, and that’s all it takes for Edmond to cum, bubbling over his fingers and his own thighs.

Edmond’s breathing slows in time with the settling of the water in the tub. He closes his eyes, letting Eiden take care of cleaning him up. He hears the pop of the drain plug and the sound of the bath emptying. Eiden pushes a bit until Edmond sits up enough that he can rise and offer his hand. He turns on the tap and rinses them off.

Stepping out of the tub, Eiden grabs towels from the shelf. He dries off and wraps one around his waist, then helps Edmond out and envelopes him in fluffy warmth. He guides Edmond to sit at the vanity, using another towel to press water out of his long hair.

Edmond is startled by the sensation of magic heat on his scalp. He tries to look up at Eiden, but it’s difficult while his hair is being held and dried. Eiden combs it with his fingers as he uses small blasts of magic.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” Edmond remarks.

“I’m sorry I’m not better at it. I’ve only just learned.”

Edmond wants to reassure him it’s fine, but he’s so relaxed now that he can’t form words. Eiden finishes drying his hair and braids it before once again offering a hand to help Edmond up.

They retire to the bedroom, and Eiden turns down the covers. Edmond hesitates, considering whether to put anything on before getting in. He decides against it, purposefully not looking to see what expression Eiden is wearing. Tonight, he’s not much in the mood for playing games.

Before he can get settled, Eiden says, “Turn onto your stomach.”

“Eh?” Edmond does as he’s told, but he looks warily over his shoulder.

“Nothing bad! I swear,” Eiden says, although his expression tells another story.

“Hmph.”

Eiden’s quiet laugh makes Edmond warm. He feels the bed dip, followed by the sound of a phial being uncorked. The scents of honey, lemon, and vanilla waft out. Edmond inhales deeply and relaxes into the mattress on a soft sigh.

The drizzle of oil on his back tickles and makes Edmond squirm. A moment later, it’s followed by Eiden’s hands, pressing and kneading his muscles. Warmth spreads beneath Edmond’s skin, the first flushes of arousal stirring from the way Eiden uses his fingers to relieve the tightness in his back and shoulders.

After a while, those capable hands retreat. Eiden leans over, covering Edmond’s body with his own. He murmurs into his ear, “Turn over for me?”

Hastily, Edmond tries to cover up for his shameless reaction to a simple massage. “N-no, that will be all. I…rest…” He buries his face in the pillow to hide his reddened cheeks.

“Hehe.” Eiden kisses the back of his neck. “You sure you want me to stop?”

“I, er—ahem!” Edmond might not truly be ready to sleep, but Eiden already helped him out in the bath. Shouldn’t that be enough?

Eiden trails his lips down Edmond’s spine. “Your skin is so warm, and you smell so good.”

“You are the one who put that oil on me.” Edmond dares to peek over his shoulder.

Having reached Edmond’s waist, Eiden looks up. “Your scent gets sweeter when you’re turned on.”

“That is pure nonsense! How could—”

Eiden rests his forehead against Edmond’s back. He’s making no sound, but Edmond feels him shaking with laughter. After all that work to relax him, now he’s clearly trying to wind him up again. Edmond does his best to glare, despite the fact that Eiden isn’t even looking at him. But when he peers down, he sucks in a breath. Tousled hair, a pink glow to his bare skin, and his shoulders quivering with his badly suppressed amusement. Edmond can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of him.

Raising his head, Eiden meets his gaze and grins. “You know I’ll always stop if you need me to, but I have a feeling…”

He kisses the spot where his forehead was just resting, then pauses and looks at Edmond again. When Edmond nods, he continues his path. His lips trail tenderly across the soft flesh of Edmond’s bare bottom, first one side and then the other. Even knowing what’s next, Edmond still inhales sharply when Eiden spreads his cheeks apart and places a gentle kiss there.

The moment Eiden’s tongue begins to explore his hole, Edmond turns his face into the pillow and curls his fingers against the mattress. He can barely control his breathing. Time and again, he’s told himself he shouldn’t indulge in something so intimate, so…exposed. But he can’t control his own desire, wanting—needing—Eiden to open him more.

It’s overpowering the way Eiden alternates soft licks and firm thrusts of his tongue, making Edmond almost dizzy with lust. He shifts to both grant Eiden easier access and to relieve the building ache between his legs. He grinds against the bed, spurred on by the wet sounds and the way Eiden is groaning softly as though he’s lost in bliss himself.

Edmond cries out when he feels Eiden’s thumb pressing into him, stretching him and coaxing him to loosen. He squeezes his eyes shut so tightly he sees white spots, panting open-mouthed against his pillow and dampening it with his saliva. Eiden’s nails bite into his flesh as he kneads Edmond’s ass. The symphony of sound and sensation drives Edmond to the edge. He hovers there for a fleeting moment, and then he’s hurtling over the cliff of his orgasm, his drawn-out moan muffled by the pillow and his fluids soaking the sheets beneath him.

He’s still gasping for air when Eiden shifts behind him, blanketing him with his body. Edmond feels his hard cock against his hole, now slick with essence and spit. He turns his head to the side, intending to say something, but his words die in his throat as Eiden grasps his hair and slides into him. All he can do is shove his cheek against the pillow and whinge through gritted teeth at the stimulation.

Eiden quivers against him. “Edmond…god, you feel amazing…”

Something in those words sends a bolt of desire right through him. He shakes uncontrollably as another climax hits. He can’t decide if he wants to beg Eiden to stop or to go on.

“Please,” is all he can manage.

Eiden seems to instinctively know what he needs. He slows his pace but thrusts deeper, changing his angle slightly. He plants needy little kisses on Edmond’s neck and shoulders.

“You—you’re so good, Edmond. Beautiful. Brave. I—hnghh!”

Edmond is close to cumming again. It’s both wonderful and terrible, making tears leak from the corners of his eyes. He’s no longer sure if it’s from the way Eiden is pounding into him or the words he’s using, but Edmond is overwhelmed. He turns his face into the pillow, hiding his sobs.

“So close…I’m cumming,” Eiden breathes against his shoulder.

“M-me—too—”

Edmond is still crying, the muffled sound mingling with his desperate moans. Eiden’s soft grunt becomes a low groan as he cums. Swiftly, Edmond follows right behind him, splattering across the sheets. He collapses into the pool of his own semen, barely registering the feeling.

He doesn’t realize he’s still weeping until he feels Eiden’s fingers on his cheek. He chokes, trying to calm down and stop the flow of tears, but it’s impossible.

“Edmond?” Eiden’s voice carries a note of panic. “Edmond, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”

“Hnnnh...” Edmond deliberately slows his breathing, which helps. “Ei-Eiden, no.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Eiden sniffles. He pulls out carefully and moves so he’s next to Edmond. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“No, it’s my fault.” Edmond isn’t sobbing anymore, but he still can’t fully stop crying. “I’m the one who—”

“Shh, no, you did nothing wrong.” Eiden rolls Edmond over and folds him into his arms. “I’m always too—and you’re—god, I’m really, really sorry.”

“St-stop apologizing,” Edmond commands.

This seems to break the cycle. “Eh?”

“It’s not you.” Edmond wipes his face with his hands. “It’s this whole godforsaken day.”

Eiden runs his hand through Edmond’s hair, now fully loose from the braid. “That’s what I meant. I wanted to help you relax, to feel better after the shit that happened.”

Edmond pokes him with his toe. “Vulgar language doesn’t change anything. It was my fault and only my fault.”

“You’re not to blame for that asshole stalking you.”

Sighing, Edmond pulls out of Eiden’s embrace. “No, but I handled it improperly. I did not behave in a manner befitting any sort of knight, let alone a Vice-Captain. I knew better and chose the least wise path because…” He swallows. “In my heart, I know Wyatt wasn’t wrong.”

Edmond turns onto his back. Instead of lying next to him, Eiden rolls onto his stomach and folds his arms on Edmond’s chest. He props his chin on them and peers up at him.

“Sure, you could’ve handled today better, but that’s what we’re all here for. You want to know what I think?”

“I have a feeling you’ll tell me regardless, but yes, I suppose I do.”

Eiden chuckles. “Right. Well, what I really think is that it’s easy to tell ourselves we’ve done something wrong when we don’t get a chance to properly say goodbye. And sometimes even when we do.”

“You’ve been talking to my mother, haven’t you?”

Now Eiden laughs outright. “No. Does she say the same thing? Smart woman.”

Edmond can’t help smiling faintly. “She is indeed.”

“And I’m betting she’s told you a million times that you couldn’t have saved him.”

“At least that many.”

Eiden’s thumb brushes soothingly against Edmond’s skin. “There was this boy,” he says.

“Mm?”

“Yeah. Um, I think I’d say he was maybe my first crush. Just a friend, though. Probably the only real one I had growing up because I was a damn pain in the ass a lot of the time. I was a pretty angry kid. Anyway, he was nice to me for some reason. I used to give him shit for being a dork, but he told me one day I’d thank him.”

“So, what happened?” Edmond is curious in spite of himself.

“He left. I woke up, and he was just…gone. One of the workers told me he was adopted, but he wasn’t. I’m kind of grateful the director wasn’t a liar. Privately, he said my friend was sick. He went to the hospital, and he didn’t come back. That was it. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

“That’s…” Edmond searches for a word, but only one comes to mind. “Awful.”

“Yeah, it was.” Eiden smiles, even after such a brutal story. “He was right, too, about my thanking him. He’d have liked it here. He was the kind of kid who loved making anything into an adventure. He could turn a storage closet into a rocket ship to the moon or a doorway into a world full of talking animals or a tunnel to the center of the earth. Because of him, I wasn’t afraid to go on an adventure of my own. But I’ll never be able to tell him about all this.”

“I…I see.”

And Edmond does. Regardless of who is at fault, he’ll never be able to tell Lucien about all the things that have happened in the many years since his death. Something occurs to Edmond that leaves him startled, and he stares briefly at Eiden, unsure what to say next.

“So…I told you about my friend, but you’ve never said more about Lucien than a few small details.” Eiden shifts so he’s curled up against Edmond’s side.

Edmond can’t help reaching out to run his hand through Eiden’s hair affectionately. A little too perceptive, this one, but tonight, Edmond minds a bit less than he might have another time. He swallows, taking a moment to manage the rising tide of emotions.

“Well,” he says, “for starters, he would have loved you.”