“Lucard has a limited clearance, even as a Duke and in line for the throne,” Marcaes watched her as he spoke. When did she suddenly turn so mature? “The only ones who probably have the real answers would be someone from the Council of High Fathers and Infinity of High Mothers, or the Supreme Holy herself.”

“…well, that’s a feat privy to only His Highnesses Twin Kings, Empresses, and Queen Dowager,” Ryunise laughed a bit, “Guess we’re at a dead end for that, Papa!”

Her father smiled and rubbed her shoulder, then drank water himself, “Well, when you get to the Church, hopefully there will be answers. But, I’m still grateful you’re awake. Whatever or whoever woke you up, I’m grateful.”

Ryunise glanced at him, then out the window. If only you knew, she thought, that it was me and not your actual daughter. But would you still love Ryunise, or mourn? How would you, the Order Knight, react? Would the Eyes of those Gods come alive and crush her, damn her, and tear it into the unknown?

Vaguely, she understood, somehow, someway, that romanticism held more water than she’d like to imagine.

“Which reminds me. How are your eyes?” He asked. It didn’t seem he noticed the foreign thoughts whirring inside her brain.

“Oh,” She looked back at him and put her face a little closer so he could see, “Still roughly the same as always…rough shapes, not too much details, unless I squint really small! Like this!”

Ryunise squeezed her eyes until they looked like they shut, “Like…this, Papa! There you are! I see you!!”

Marcaes blinked, startled, then a hearty laugh erupted to the ceiling of the murmuring carriage. The coachman and driver jumped a bit in shock, and they felt their insides lift like a warm wave.

“Ah! Papa, you’re laughing!” She puffed slightly.

“That’s because you’re so adorable!” He snagged her and squishes his daughter against his carmine and lace.

“Oomph! Papa…!!”

Marcaes was chuckling, a deep rumbling in his throat and chest with the corners of his eyes crowed, a dead giveaway that what he felt was pure joy and glee. He had his daughter, his little girl, and she was speaking, joking, and wondrous. It was such a curious thing. Sometimes he would take a moment or two to ponder how he was blessed to experience such emotions. The dynamics, ups and downs, the rush, the power of life and living. What a foreign thing, he thought, to feel as much as this. To be human.

He paused, eyes glancing outside the window. Ryunise felt it, like water receding out of a container, and she looked up at him.

“Papa…?”

Her father didn’t respond. It seemed he was concentrating, but elsewhere, leaving his physical body behind and his arms to hold his precious daughter tight. Ryunise knew from experience no matter how much she would call to him; the soldier wouldn’t respond even with a twitch of a nose.

It was then she realized. The conversation wasn’t just to make small talk. Rarely does her father say something without having more intent behind it. If it was true, it’s quite possible that she was still a target. Reasons are unknown, but it’s irrelevant. The fact remains that there may be a lurking shadow of a danger around the bend. It added up: Marcaes Emerodelle forewent his morning duties at the capital to escort her personally into Regina. He had her wear his own Cobalt Nobelle crest, and left the other at home.

Every special crest commissioned and given by the King will have a blessing upon them of protection, and, as always, they’re first made in pairs. When they’re created at the same time, they take on a distinct quality that one will always locate the other, like twins and their special link. Additional siblings could be made after, and they also can be imbedded with a family-like tracker.

She sat between his knees without question and folded her hands in her lap. Ryunise’s body was well-versed in muscle memory. If there ever was a potential situation to take position, consider the exits, weigh the directions, map the consequences and predict future actions. If she was ever with her father or mother, Ryunise would listen to every order without question and follow through. She also was to make herself minimal, non-obstructive, and blank her presence.

Curiously, she could feel it. There was something outside. Not close, but distant, and in the brush. So far it was just one, and they seemed to be observing. No signature of killing intent, or thirst to harm.

The carriage they rode was currently traveling on a road littered with pebbles; well-worn with merchants and their heady wares. The closest town was ten minutes away on foot going a good clip, and a small village another five in the opposite direction. They had just passed through the town of Taves, managed by Viscount Froam Desven. It would be another half an hour at a quicker speed to get to the outer boundaries of Regina. Another half hour without aid, should it come to that.

Although, he IS the Order Knight, she mused. If they so much as giggle at their own stupid thoughts and delusions, he would have sliced their heads clean and free from their bodies. But why doesn’t that thought bother me? Do I enjoy seeing violence?

“Ryunise,” Marcaes interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes, Papa?”

“I’m going to scout. Do you understand?”

She nodded her reply firmly.

“Neither Noxical or Caelus allows you to hold them, but neither has accepted you yet when it comes to wielding in battle.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“But they can still provide you additional protection in my absence. This carriage is already fitted to repel most minor casts. The sheaths have a level three protection against most physical projectiles.”

“But, Papa, what about you?”

He chuckled gently, “I don’t think even using a mere wooded stick is worth this minor inconvenience.”

“That’s true, but,” She presented back, “The Order Knight is not his image without his black and white.”

“You know me so well, my daughter.”

“Then?”

“I understand. I will leave at least Caelus’ sheath with you,” He inclined his head in agreement, “We need to have a discussion later this year. You will be turning ten additional one soon enough.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Marcaes stroked the backside of Ryunise’s hair. The look in his eyes were such a fatherly warmth, a parental love that can be rivaled by no other. That look made the sense of ease like a fluffy world where nothing could hurt you, but the guilt within its fibers was so much more blatant in her heart. Ryunise’s feelings had remained in her very bones, of gratefulness and heart-wrenching tenderness for her family. It was both inviting and yet so very alienating. It’s not mine, she thought. It was never mine.

“If I’m not back in five minutes time,” He took out his pocket watch from his inner breast pocket, “Then tell the driver to turn at the upcoming fork in the road for Taves.”

“Do you really think I would have to?”

“It’s just a precaution. I just might wander off.”

“…wander off?”

“It’s a nice day outside. And there’s a wildflower field near her. I was thinking maybe your mother would like some.”

What? Ryunise made a confused smile, she couldn’t help it. Her father sometimes was so odd. I suppose guys are the same in every world no matter where you go, she inwardly laughed.

“But, Papa, you’re going to work today!”

“I can still send someone back home to deliver them for me,” He said, “Although I would rather give them by my own hands.”

“Silly man.”

“Who still very much is in love with your mother,” He chuckles.

“So I’ll go to Taves after five minutes,” She glances down at the pocket watch. It was a simple watch surrounded by a shell of silver. Marcaes was never a man for riches, only needing simplicity and let his skills do the talking.

“Yes. When you reach there, wait for me and only me,” He continued, “We have additional company around, but don’t go with them if they offer to take you.”

“Even if I’m late?”

“I’m sure the Church will understand.”

Right. Because you’re the Order Knight and a direct envoy of the Highnesses, who would even dare?

“…and because you don’t want anyone else.”

“Yes. Because they’re trash.”

“But they’re your men!”

“Doesn’t mean they’re still not still trash deep down. They’re refined trash, but still trash.”

“You need a new word.”

“Trash is not known by any other name,” He smiled, “’Trash’ is as suitable as trash deserves.”

Wow. A trash complex. How does that even exist? She thought flatly.

Marcaues leaned back and unclipped the sword at his left hip from the many intricate leather belts dyed black waved in chains. The sheaths would be bejeweled and wood patterned with complexity, carved out in the world and Goddess language Aetheillian of protection. The jewels were special stones imbedded carefully for its amplification.

The swords Noxical and Caelus; fraternal twin swords of lost arts and history. It was said that they were born on opposite sides of the globe, a manifestational fang each from nature and of spirits. They had no affiliation to elements, and rather than two magical swords, these blades in fact nullifies magic. It wasn’t a matter of quieting magic, negating, disavowing, or even absorbing. Instead it cancels the magic’s very existence - as if they never existed in the world. Nature and spirits are non-magical beings and cannot be touched, rendering these swords as an unshakeable force.

Noxical was the fang of spirit made black, and Caelus of nature made white. Upon a glance Noxical looked like a normal obsidian blade a breadth rivaling space, yet somehow transparent as if looking through the surface of an undying lake. Caelus was the same, only it was as if looking through a crystal into the infinite white of a maddeningly endless white forest. A silver hilt with tendril-like spiral swirled as a guard for Caelus, and a solid gold grip with bloom-like petaling guard for Noxical.

Marcaes handed the white weapon into her hands. She cooed a bit at it, “Hi, Caelus.”

“It’s interesting that you have that reaction,” He talked as he grasped the hilt. Unlike most weapons, his blades never made the vibrating sound of drawn in, or out. Just the ringing of silence.

“Like what, Papa?” Ryunise asked.

“Like speaking to a pet or something.”

“It’s more like an understanding,” She said, “I can’t quite explain it, but…I don’t feel wrong saying stuff like that to them. They seem to have their own personality. So, isn’t it right to treat them with natural courtesy?”

Marcaes had nothing to say. His mind was quietly contemplating vaguely what she said. Ryunise watched as the presence of Bapheis decanted into him like hot water into a tea pot. Only this water was that of the God of War, and he had no love of time and triviality. It was a wondrous and terrifying marriage sinking into the soul; a marriage of both the man and the God setting their sights on you.

“Take care, Papa,” Was all she could say. And with one slight fleeting action of a smile, as if an afterthought, he was gone.