Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia. Even though I asked Santa for it.

Author's Note: Well…here's the next one. This one, I probably spent the most time on out of all my chapters, and it's still a little off. I had to adjust the banter a little, so tell me what you think. And it's longer than most chapters, I believe so hang in there….Hmm. Oh well. Again, the update time is much faster than you can ever hope for again, so please don't kill me if the next chapter doesn't come out for awhile. It's all to do with inspiration, you see. And I have other projects I'm working on. Thank you again, to all my Yuan fans who continue to read this (or Kratos fans. He's pretty cool too, you know. Or Martel fans. Or Mithos fans, if you're twisted.): Darknite, Hatori, Kappa, Rurouni, Nakago, and Linkite. Thank you, and enjoy!

The Act of Shattering Peace

Chapter Ten:

Burned by Fire

Mithos sat at the bar, his head propped on one of his hands. There was noise and activity around him, but none of it interested him in the least. Things had gone back to normal now that Yuan was out of the town. No longer were murderous thoughts circulating around the population of Heimdall. Everyone was content.

Except for the small, blonde boy who sat waiting for the arrival of the arsonists. He had told them where to find Kratos, but now that Yuan was out, Mithos was having second doubts about his decision. He would be very disappointed if any harm came to his teacher. Kratos, while he was strict in his discipline, listened to him fairly and didn't treat him like an obnoxious brat. He seemed to understand him, and that was something that only Martel seemed to have the capacity to do these days.

Everyone else here underestimates me, Mithos thought sulkily. They just think I'm some ordinary kid.

The door opened, and Mithos glanced up to see the three men clad in black enter the bar, the scruffy-faced one in the lead. The man shook his head with a growl, then spotted Mithos.

"Hey. Kid," he said, coming over and standing beside Mithos.

"What do you want?" said Mithos coolly.

"Where's this Kratos Aurion?" the man said.

Mithos narrowed his eyes. The man seemed to be angry about something; his words were short and his voice was curt.

"How should I know?" Mithos said, turning back to the bar, uninterested.

The man placed a hand on the surface of the bar and leaned over him.

"Look," he said in a low, but deadly voice. "We've held up our end of the deal—"

"So have I," Mithos said.

"Not yet, you haven't," the man said. "We just happened to run into Aurion yesterday, but you never gave us a location—"

"He lives around the village," Mithos said with a shrug. "I can't tell you more than that."

"Yes you can, you little liar, and you will, unless you want us on your case instead," the man spat.

"Leave me alone," Mithos snapped. "I don't know where he lives, so get over it."

The man grabbed Mithos roughly by his collar, the stale odor of alcohol strong on his breath.

"Well start thinking, and start thinking fast, kid," he growled. "For your own sake."

"Let me go," Mithos said calmly, glaring daggers at the man. "You don't understand who you're dealing with."

"Oh I don't, do I?"

"No, you don't," said Mithos with a satisfied smirk. "You think I'm just a kid, but I have this whole village on my side. You touch one hair on my head, and you're a dead man. You'd be a fool to hurt me."

"Oh, you think so, do you?" the man growled, his hand tightening on Mithos' collar. "We'll see about that!"

The man dragged Mithos from his seat, and with three swift strides, he had exited the bar, pulling Mithos along by his upper arm.

"Let me go, you bastard," Mithos said, trying to wrench his arm free. "I'll—"

He was cut off by a firm hand over his mouth. Mithos tried to pull away from the hand, but his escape was denied as one of the men picked him up. He lashed out with all his limbs, but to no avail. For the first time in a very long while, fear gnawed at his stomach.

Mithos collided with cold stone as the man who was holding him threw him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, looking around him. He was in an alleyway, between the bar and the building next to it, a wall behind him, and three menacing adults in front. All right. He got it.

"All right," he said, crossing his arms. "You win. I get it, you're stronger than me. What do you want?"

The scruffy-faced man said nothing, only hit him hard across the face.

Mithos staggered to the side, his blue eyes wide and his hand covering the red spot on his cheek. He could taste blood welling in his mouth.

"Too late for 'sorry'," the man spat, advancing on Mithos and procuring a belt from his waist. "You're going to pay in blood."

Mithos fell to the ground again, his head slamming into the road as the man grabbed his collar and threw him. His vision spinning in front of him, Mithos tried to get up, tried to run, but a boot collided with his chest, sending him to the stony street again.

"You think I put up with shit like this?!" the man demanded, advancing on Mithos and kicking him again. "When you make a deal, kid, you follow through!"

Trying to wheeze in some air, Mithos felt the sharp edge of the belt bite into his arm and cried out breathlessly, curling into a ball. The man, however, pulled him up again by his collar.

"You're not the Kharlan-damned owner of this place," the man said. "You're just a whiny little kid who's deluded, you piece of shit."

The man slammed his fist into the side of Mithos' head. Stars flashed before his eyes, a searing pain shooting throughout his entire skull as he shouted in pain.

"A curse on every damn one of you!" the man shouted, throwing Mithos to the ground, and lashing out with the belt. "You filthy half-elf! I'll kill you if I get the chance, you hear me?! Give me a reason!"

"P-please," Mithos managed to say. "D-don't…"

"Don't what you son of a bitch?!"

"S-Stop it!" Mithos wailed, and ashamedly, he realized he was crying. Why was he shaking? Why couldn't he pull himself together?! "S-Stop it, p-please, s-stop it!"

"You'll kill him," said a cool, unfamiliar voice somewhere above his head. The belt whipped down once, twice, three times more, before it stopped. Mithos curled up, wrapping his arms above his throbbing head and shivering uncontrollably. The cool voice came again. "The townspeople will come."

"You had better not say a word," the man hissed, grabbing Mithos by the neck. "You say a word, and you'll wish you'd never been born. I'm after you, boy. You're next."

With that, he released Mithos roughly, and disappeared with the other two men in a cloud of smoke.

----

"Are you sure this won't hurt?"

"Yes, Yuan," Kratos said, sighing and rolling his eyes. "For the third time, I promise you, it will not hurt."

"Yeah, but last time, you came to my house with hands that looked like they were about to fall off," Yuan said uncertainly, looking down at his own hand.

"I hadn't had enough practice with it," Kratos said impatiently.

"Well, I haven't practiced at all."

"All the more incentive to get it right the first time, now isn't it?"

Yuan turned disbelieving to his friend. "You're evil."

"How kind. Just try it."

Yuan swallowed and held his hand out in front of him, his raw palm facing the river. "You will need to know how to master fire if you are to live in the wild," Kratos had told him only moments before, as he retreated several paces from the river. "There may be times when necessary tools evade you and you are left alone. This is the reason you must make yourself a necessary tool, capable of doing tasks crucial for survival."

All well and good, Yuan thought nervously. But asking me to light my hand on fire is something else.

"Focus your energy into your palm," Kratos instructed. "Envision fire in your hand. Feel its warmth, but not its burn. In mana manipulation, you get what you ask for."

"So when you came the last time—"

"I got what I asked for, yes," Kratos said with a sigh. "Please stop speaking. Your lack of concentration is infuriating."

"I am concentrating," Yuan insisted, still holding his hand in front of him.

"Obviously not as much as you should be."

"Easy for you to say. You're just standing there."

"Well observed. Be quiet."

Yuan fell silent, trying to focus on sending fire to his hand. He could feel nothing, nothing at all. Not the tingle of energy, not the warmth of fire, nothing. Yuan grimaced with frustration. This was stupid. Trying to make fire with his bare hands? There was no way that he'd ever be able to master it.

He sighed, lowering his arm. "I can't do this," he told Kratos.

"Your persistence astounds me," Kratos said sarcastically. "Please stop. I don't think I could bear it if you tried for another thirty seconds."

"What the hell's the point?" Yuan said with a shrug. "You're asking me to make my friggin' hand catch fire."

Kratos sighed. "Be patient. This is a difficult, but necessary skill."

"All well and good for the one who's not doing it," Yuan muttered.

Kratos held his hand cupped in front of him, and in a moment, flames were crackling merrily in his palm. He smirked.

"Tell me, how does your foot taste?"

"Smartass," Yuan grumbled, turning back to the river and stretching out his arm. He paused, then turned back to Kratos. "Wait. Why are you suddenly teaching me this?"

"Well, I have yet to teach you anything, since you insist on remaining so pigheaded."

"I'll start learning as soon as you stop insisting on remaining so high-and-mighty."

"I am afraid your learning stops here," Kratos said with a sigh. "My apologies."

"Spit it out, or I'll kick your ass," Yuan said firmly. "I give you a choice."

Kratos blinked at him for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed heartily.

"Hey!" Yuan said indignantly. "You don't have to think it's that funny! I'll do it too, someday, I swear to Kharlan!"

It took awhile for Kratos' laughing to subside, but when it did, he folded his arms across his chest.

"Mithos expressed an interest in mana manipulation," he said levelly, "and I told him that I would instruct him."

Yuan scowled. "Oh, so you teach him, but not—"

"I have not begun to teach him," Kratos said calmly.

Yuan closed his mouth, not sure of what to say. "So?" he said finally. "What does that have to do with anything?" He frowned as it dawned on him. "Wait," he said, looking sharply up at Kratos. "You don't still believe that—"

"I think it is important that you be farther along in this field of study than he is," Kratos said simply. "That is why I think it is time that you learned mana manipulation. Unless you object—"

"I'm not," Yuan said quickly. "I'll try again."

"Good."

Yuan turned back the river, extending his arm again. Kratos was suspicious of Mithos. Yuan wasn't sure about the validity of his distrust, but couldn't help but feel a little happier now that he knew his friend was obviously backing him.

Mithos's just a kid though, Yuan thought, staring into the water as he tried to summon heat to his palm. There's no way that he'd do something like that. I mean, he hates me, but doesn't everyone?

A strange feeling swept through Yuan's body, as if his body was rippling from the inside out. He shivered. Hate. The fire, the smoke rising into the air. A heat seemed to grow in his chest, and the ripple passed through him again. He was standing on the edge of something…something huge, but he couldn't convince himself to jump. He frowned at the river, the safety device in case something went horribly wrong.

That's the problem, he realized, and shut his eyes against the water. Water extinguished flame. There was no reason staring at it when he was trying to summon the opposite.

Fire. Heat.

The feeling swept through him again, as if he were a towel hanging to a clothesline in a hard wind. His heart began to beat faster, pumping red blood through his body. Red, hot blood. Like fire. Yuan's lips parted, and he found himself whispering these things in an incantation. A mantra of flame, of smoldering ashes, of smoke billowing into the sky, of hate, of something deep, dark, and a million times bigger than he could ever dream of being.

His heart was pounding his head, his mouth burning with anticipation. He was almost hungry for this fire, this ash, and this smoke. He could taste the sulfur, the residue of what the fire consumed. He could feel the warmth, the heat from the fire in his hand, could see through closed lids, its orange glow, could hear its crackling merriment—

Yuan frowned. Wait. He could hear something.

A silent hiss reached his ears, and surprised, Yuan opened his eyes. In his outstretched palm balanced a perfect ball of writhing flame. His blue eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. Drawing his hand to him, he looked deep into the flame, the mana. His mana. A wide grin spread across his face.

"Kratos!" he said, waving his hand excitedly. "Look what I…" He trailed off as he realized the flame had extinguished during his rapid movement. "Dammit!" he said, frustrated. "Look, I did it, I swear to Kharlan, but it went out as soon as I—"

"I know," Kratos said, and Yuan was shocked to see a rare grin on his lips. "An excellent job."

"Wh-What's that look for?" Yuan said warily, thoroughly embarrassed that Kratos was actually smiling on his behalf.

"It seems, my friend," Kratos said, "that we have found your gift."

"My…wha?"

Yuan stumbled to the side, his head tilting and swaying with the moving world around him. He blindly grabbed for something to hold on to, his fingers brushing against bark, before he fell forward onto his face, inhaling earth.

"What," Yuan croaked, "the hell?"

"You've just lost some mana for the first time," Kratos explained. "You will be dizzy for a little while. It should wear off in a few minutes."

"Ugh," Yuan groaned, closing his eyes and feeling severely nauseous. "This sucks."

Kratos chuckled. "Well worth it, I would say."

"Why's that? You're not the one with your face in the damn dirt."

"Your body will adjust to the loss," Kratos said, strolling casually over to where Yuan lay motionless. "Eventually you will be able to call upon your mana without any taxing effects."

"Eventually," Yuan snorted. "You're talking like it's going to happen again."

He could tell Kratos was frowning as he spoke.

"I would strongly encourage you to continue this study," he said.

"Again, not your face in the dirt."

"No," Kratos agreed. "However, watching is just as satisfying, trust me."

"Go to hell."

"I suppose I might," Kratos said mildly. "I should pack for warm weather."

"Yeah, yeah, smartass," Yuan said, trying to push himself up from the ground. His arms shook violently, and he fell again with a loud "oof!"

"Kharlan damn it all," he muttered.

Kratos shook his head and tutted disapprovingly. "Yuan, Yuan. What kind of an example is that to set for Mithos?"

Yuan glared up at Kratos.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"My, my, this loss of energy seems to have turned your mood," Kratos said serenely. "And you were in such a pleasant humor…."

"Kratos, you ass, tell me what you were saying!"

"I merely was wondering whether you had considered the possibility that you may be, potentially, a role-model for our young companion. Especially in mana manipulation."

Yuan scowled. "Why do you say that?"

Kratos smirked.

"As I said," he told him. "We have found your gift."

Yuan snorted. "Don't be stupid," he said.

"On the contrary," Kratos said airily. "I am never stupid."

Yuan snorted again, and Kratos sighed.

"You were able to do what I finally managed in days."

"What?" Yuan said incredulously. It seemed impossible that he was able to do something better than Kratos. "You're kidding…."

"I kid you not," Kratos said solemnly, shaking his head. "I practiced for at least a fortnight until I was able to conjure a flame. On my second…'successful' attempt, I dealt serious damage to both my hands in that rebound."

"Oh, yeah?" Yuan said, grinning from where he lay. "So I finally beat you. Hah!"

"I was, however," Kratos said with a slight cough, "able to remain standing after all my attempts."

"Well aren't you special."

"I like to think so," Kratos said smoothly. "Nevertheless, you have shown great potential. It must have something to do with your elvish blood." He trailed off thoughtfully.

Yuan opened his mouth to respond, but there was a rustling in the woods, and Martel came bolting into the clearing.

"Martel!" Yuan said cheerfully. She looked wordlessly from Kratos down to Yuan, still lying face-first on the ground, her eyes wide and panicked. He frowned. "Are you all—"

"I can't find Mithos!" she said. "The elder said he left for home an hour ago, but he hasn't been back since!"

Yuan found himself suddenly standing as Kratos grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "Miss Martel, I will look into the matter," he said swiftly. "I must ask you, however, to stay with Yuan."

"No, Mister Kratos, I'll come with you—!"

"I am afraid that I cannot let you," Kratos said firmly. "I apologize. I promise, however, that I will return Master Mithos to you unharmed." Yuan noticed that Kratos' jaw was set, and he seemed slightly paler than usual.

"Kratos," Yuan began, but Kratos cut him off.

"Take Miss Martel back to her house," Kratos said, "and leave her side for no reason. Can I trust you with this task?"

"…Yeah," Yuan said, with a nod. He still felt a little unsteady, but knew better than to argue with Kratos when he was in this mindset. "I'll stay with Martel." He stooped to grab his weapon, before moving to Martel who was arguing with Kratos.

"—Please, he's my brother. I cannot just wait at home, I need to find him—"

"Under normal circumstances," Kratos said heavily, "I would have no objections with you searching for him, however—" Kratos sighed. "—I have reason to believe that Mithos has engaged in activities which have proved dangerous to him, and possibly to you—"

"Kratos!" Yuan said sharply. "What the hell are you—?!"

"—If my suspicions are true, then you are in far more danger than you believe yourself to be in."

"I don't care!" Martel shouted, tears welling and leaking from her eyes. "He's my brother!"

"As much as you might not care about your own welfare in the face of such adversity," Kratos said calmly, "there are those of us who do." He nodded at Yuan and gave a nod himself. "Please heed my words and return to your home. I am sorry, but I must leave. Yuan, see that she remains there."

"Okay," Yuan said, as Kratos turned on his heel and swiftly. He turned to Martel who watched Kratos' departure standing still, silent, and strangely composed.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Why was Mister Kratos so concerned?" Martel whispered. She turned to Yuan. "He was worried…about something Mithos was doing…."

"It's nothing, I'm sure," Yuan said with a shrug. "You know how paranoid Kratos gets." He wasn't about to tell Martel that Kratos suspected Mithos as the mastermind behind the plot to throw him out of the village. "Come on," he said instead. "Let's go home."

Martel nodded mutely, and allowed Yuan to wrap one arm around her as he guided her back through the woods and to the village.

The guard was waiting for them.

"Halt! Who goes…."

Yuan glared at the guard, his hand tightening on his weapon.

"Permission to enter," he growled.

The guard gaped at him, and Yuan said nothing more, leading Martel through the gates and into her house.

He leaned his weapon against the wall, and steered Martel into a seat at her table.

"He's going to be all right, you know," Yuan said, taking a seat next to her. "Kratos'll find him in no time."

"What if he isn't all right?" Martel whispered. "I…I just don't know anymore…."

Yuan frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

"Mithos…Mithos hasn't been himself lately," Martel said. "I've been getting this feeling that he's…thinking about something…planning something huge, and he's not telling me about it. He's been wandering around the village aimlessly, disappearing, sometimes for hours, but always showing up again….I was so happy today when he was excited about going to his lessons, because it was more normal than I've seen him in a while. But the elder said that he had come back here to pick up his book, and…he was the one who asked me where Mithos was. I just…I worry so much about him, and now this…."

"Shh, Martel," Yuan said placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly as she wiped her eyes. "He's going to be fine."

"I know the lack of parents has impacted him so much," Martel said, her voice strained. "I've tried to do my best to raise him, but I'm only his sister—"

"Martel! Don't you dare say that you haven't been doing a good enough job at raising him!" Yuan said vehemently. "That's insane. You've done more for him than most parents do for their kids. And Mithos appreciates everything, you know that." Martel sniffed, and wiped her eyes on the back of her long sleeve.

Yuan sighed and smiled weakly, reaching out to brush a few tears away with his thumb. She was so compassionate, and yet so stubbornly strong. In less than twenty-four hours, she had been reduced to helpless sobs twice for the sakes of others. Many would no doubt see this as weakness, but Yuan wouldn't have her any other way; this weakness in others' eyes was, to him, one of her greatest strengths.

The door opened with a bang, and both Yuan and Martel looked up sharply. Kratos stood in the threshold, holding Mithos in his arms, the latter of which was a nervous wreck.

"Mithos!" Martel cried, running to her brother as Kratos moved swiftly across the room.

"He needs rest," Kratos said sternly, moving into Mithos' bedroom, Martel trailing after him. A moment later, Kratos exited the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Is he okay?" Yuan asked anxiously.

"Yes," Kratos said gruffly. "No permanent damage has been done. He is shaken, but he will make a full recovery."

"Where was he?" Yuan asked.

"Down an alley," Kratos said, "beaten half to death."

"What?!" Yuan yelped. "Who would want to beat up Mithos?!"

"Someone who doesn't need him anymore," Kratos said darkly, sitting down at the table. "I'm afraid that Mithos has been playing with fire and, unlike you, he has gotten burned."

"So you think that…that he was the one who tipped those guys off?" Yuan said, sinking into a chair.

"Almost completely," Kratos said, clasping his hands together in front of him. He swore underneath his breath. "Kharlan, I cannot believe how…childish—!"

"He is a kid," Yuan said with a shrug.

"Yes, but not an ordinary one," Kratos said. "Which is a blessing, but now I see it is a curse. When I first met Mithos, I thought it was extraordinary how mature and advanced he was for his age. I thought this to be only a boon, and agreed to train him in the ways of the sword and mind. I would never have imagined that he would use his cunning so carelessly and in such a dangerous way….That boy is foolish."

"Dangerous?" Yuan said, and "I mean, I'm not saying what he did was good or anything, but dangerous? It…it can't be bad…right?"

But even as he spoke, Yuan knew that it was. Kratos confirmed his fears with a heavy look and sigh.

The door to Mithos' bedroom opened, and Martel emerged, looking somewhat shaken.

"Mithos…is asking for you, Mister Kratos," she said quietly.

Kratos swallowed, and got to his feet, moving soundlessly to where Martel stood by the door. Yuan followed behind Kratos and, as the redhead entered the room, got a glimpse of Mithos.

The boy was like Yuan had never seen him before. Mithos was sitting upright in his bed, his face bruised and bloody, his eyes wide and breathing panicked. He was shaking like a leaf in a tempest, his hands clenched around two fists of bedclothes. As soon as Kratos ended, Mithos began to speak.

"M-M-Mister K-Kratos, p-please h-h-help m-me, I d-didn't—"

"Silence," Kratos ordered firmly. Mithos took a few anxious breaths, then clamped his mouth shut and nodded furiously, immediately wincing.

"Mithos," Martel said, moving forward, but Kratos turned to her.

"I would like to speak to Master Mithos alone," Kratos said. Martel looked between him and her brother. "Please," he added.

"C'mon, Martel," Yuan murmured, taking her by the arm and pulling her back out of the room. "Let them talk."

Kratos nodded in thanks to Yuan who nodded in return before closing the door with a snap.

"He…he wouldn't tell me anything," Martel said, turning to Yuan. "He just kept asking to speak to Mister Kratos….Did Mister Kratos say anything to you? Did he tell you anything?"

Yuan opened his mouth, then sighed.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Martel, but he didn't say anything."

Ten minutes passed before the door to the bedroom opened again and Kratos emerged, pure disgust etched on his face. Yuan and Martel both stood up from the table.

"What…what is wrong?" Martel breathed, taken aback by Kratos' expression.

"Master Mithos," he said coldly, "has been making deals with arsonists. I suggest you ready your things to leave. This house is no longer safe."

Martel stood for a moment, unbelieving.

"Wh…what?" she breathed, looking between Kratos and Yuan. "Wh-What do you mean?"

"I simply mean that your brother is a fool," Kratos spat. "He has been plotting to exile Yuan from this village, and in the process has endangered you, himself, and me as well."

"Kratos," Yuan said warningly, grabbing his shoulder. He appreciated the fact that Kratos was angry, but it was still Martel he was talking to. It wasn't her fault. Kratos seemed to understand, and reluctantly took a deep breath, exhaling it in a frustrated sigh.

"That...that can't," Martel breathed, looking horror-struck at Yuan, her hands covering her mouth. "I…I can't…believe it….Mithos—"

She rushed into her brother's room.

"He told you?" Yuan muttered as Kratos shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes," he said. "Everything. Apparently, he was the one spreading rumors about half-elf inferiority to get people to mistreat you. He made a deal with those arsonists, and was beaten when he refused to give them my whereabouts."

"You said that they found you, though—"

"Only by happenchance," Kratos said, beginning to pace. "Mithos did not give them any more information than the fact that I lived in the general vicinity of the village. So they made him pay with his blood." He stopped pacing, his brown eyes widening slightly. "Pay with his blood…I remember. I remember now. That man came from Meltokio."

"What?" Yuan said. "I thought you said that they were from Mizu-whatever."

"One of their members is from Mizuho…at least the man in the mask," Kratos said, resuming his pacing. "The leader of the group, however, came from Meltokio. His father led a massacre there years ago…'pay with blood,' I remember. I was hired by the king to get rid of him."

"By the king?!" Yuan said, shocked. "You never told me that!"

"I killed him," Kratos continued, oblivious to Yuan's outburst, "and now I remember, there was a young man who was working by his side. That young man must have been the son, the arsonist after my blood." Kratos smirked. "I haven't paid yet. That was his catchphrase," Kratos explained to Yuan's questioning look. "Pay with your blood."

Yuan wrinkled his nose. "He had a catchphrase?" he said disbelievingly.

"As terribly cliché as it sounds, yes," Kratos said heavily. "He was, however, quite the formidable opponent."

Yuan shook his head in disbelief. "Anyway," he said. "What's going to happen to Martel and Mithos?"

Kratos sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking a little more at ease. "If they are prudent, they will leave this place before any more misfortune falls upon them," he said.

"It's really that bad, huh?" Yuan asked darkly.

Kratos sighed again. "Yes," he said. "It has reached a level of severity that I would be a fool to ignore. The arsonists know who Mithos is. It would cost them no effort to find this house and to raze it to the ground. And if they so much as saw Martel again…" Kratos ran his hand through his hair again as he considered how to continue. "Men such as they are not quite as honorable as you and I," Kratos said finally, giving Yuan a meaningful look. "She is in danger as well."

Yuan sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I can't believe Mithos would do that…to Martel, I mean."

"He is a fool," Kratos said, the words spilling from his mouth with distaste, "and he is too young to fully understand what he has done. It is my fault as his teacher that I encouraged him as I did and did not set him straight when it was necessary to do so."

A sense of foreboding shot down Yuan's spine. He had been lucky enough to escape being "set straight" by Kratos in all his years of knowing him. It was almost scary that Mithos had received that privilege before him.

Martel emerged from Mithos' bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. She walked over to Yuan and, to both his and Kratos' immense surprise, sank to her knees in a bow.

"I take responsibility for this," she said, lowering her head. "He is my younger brother, and I take full responsibility for his actions. I…I am so, so sorry. I know that it doesn't change anything….I understand if you can't forgive me for this, but please know that I am so…terribly sorry…."

Yuan stood for a moment, stunned, as he stared down at Martel. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be the one apologizing for something idiotic that he did all by himself. She hadn't done anything, and yet here she was, apologizing.

Yuan crouched down beside her and placed a hand on her head.

"You can be really stupid sometimes," he said with a laugh.

Martel looked up at him, tears welled in her blue eyes. Yuan smiled at her.

"This isn't your fault," Yuan said. "And it's all right besides. I was going to have to leave Heimdall one of these days anyway. So don't do this, all right? It's not your fault at all."

Martel swallowed, bit her lip, and rubbed her eyes. Wordlessly, she nodded. Yuan patted her on the head.

"You should consider taking your leave," Kratos said gruffly, but his voice had softened somewhat. "As hard as it may be, I believe it is necessary."

Martel nodded again as Yuan helped her to her feet. "Yes," she said. "I believe that…that you are right Mister Kratos. Thank you for all your help."

Kratos blinked, then bowed.

"It is my honor," he said. "You are my friends, and I will do my utmost to see you two safe." He glanced at Yuan. "And that one too. But only if it is absolutely necessary, and I find myself without any other responsibilities."

Martel laughed breathlessly, as Yuan snapped back, "Yeah, well, same to you."

"Your retorts are becoming wittier by the day."

"Shut up!"

"I will go tell Mithos," Martel said with a sad smile, "that we will leave soon." She paused as she turned to leave, turning back. "Wh-where will we go?"

Kratos sighed, running a hand through his burgundy hair. "We will find shelter," he said, "I promise you. However, beyond that, I cannot say."

Martel exhaled, nodded, then disappeared into Mithos' room.

----

A/N: There you have it! Chapter ten done. This is kind of a milestone, actually…double digits. Anyway, I hope it didn't go too fast, and you're thinking, "It's about time!" instead of "Where did that come from?!". I do apologize, but I think it's time that this fic gets going. Please let me know what you think! Thank you again!

MT