The chilly air of a desert night ripped through the padding of Cormag's armour as Eirika's group camped out for the sun's set on the outskirts of Jehanna's palatial estate, or what was left of it. When he was in the aerial fight against Valter and his subordinates, Cormag paid little attention to what was happening below him. Much had happened within the palace's ivory halls, including a fire.

The blaze started from within, consuming whatever was flammable inside and growing in both size and intensity. Cormag suspected the torch from the fresh-faced Grado soldier within the hallway, likely meant to set ablaze the whole building and ensnare Eirika's forces as well as Queen Ismaire of Jehanna. While the light toppled to the stone floor innocuously and was doubtlessly snuffed, likely there were others like it, and Innes' killing blow was entirely meaningless.

This was much to wrap his head around, and Cormag seeped deeper into the still-warm sand as he took in the desolate landscape. The fire within the palace still burned and cast a grimmer shadow across the land than the moon behind it, but there were worse things. Tana endured one. Joshua endured another.

When the prince of Jehanna exited the palace, he carried Natasha in his arms, the poor cleric girl covered with burns likely after she lost consciousness from the smoke. Joshua was in similar shape, but with a horrible gash on his left arm that made Cormag wonder how he survived at all. Another marvel was the mental weight Joshua's eyes carried that Cormag could only guess at. When Cormag asked about what happened in there, he answered that he saw what should not have happened and kept quiet until nagged further.

About a stone's throw away, at the nearest gathering place next to the campfire, he could hear Joshua talking with other interested listeners who tried to help free his tongue. The assailed was still reluctant, but he started to find his voice. Cormag listened closely over the stirring wind and the crunching of the nearby blaze.

"We entered the throne room and came across my old mentor," the swordsman started, rubbing his wound nursingly, "as close to family as a friend can get. He pointed a sword at us, considering us his enemies and Grado his ally. I couldn't dissuade him from battle - heck, I couldn't persuade myself from doing the same - and I put him down, but I couldn't have done so without Natasha. If she didn't heal my injuries, I'd be just another dead man in that blaze.

"But that's not all. I went deeper into the throne room and found a secret way, a hidden room. I sought my mother the queen, hoping to find her unscathed by the betrayal of her closest friend. She . . . was dying when I saw her, stabbed through by a broadsword. Her last words I won't say aloud, but they still haunt me, so I'd appreciate it if y'all leave me alone."

The crowd quieted and died down, dispersing wordlessly with heads laden with guilt. Cormag bit down on his cheek, feeling a similar heaviness on several fronts, and mulled over his next actions. His revenge had been taken against that diabolical serpent of a man, but he felt less satisfied, and more crippled, than ever before.

He started pondering over what-ifs. Had Valter not distracted him, had he stuck to the original plan, had he cut down as many as he knew he could have, he might have been able to save Vanessa. Tana would not have been as withdrawn as she was lately, and he might not have been attacked by Innes soon after the prince left the tented wagon. Vanessa was dear to Innes as well, it seemed. Never had he seen the prince so irate before today, punching him square in the mouth soon after he exited the wagon and Cormag was dismounted. Had it not been for Moulder, the Frelian priest who joined this journey, he would still have the welt on his face now.

To lose someone so dearly important-that is something the ex-commander knew already and hated himself for contributing. What was done was done, and there was no going back. No amount of sorry's and apologies would cure such a broken heart, nor would it restore what was lost.

Still, he felt the need to try. Innes would probably never forgive him if this was found out, but during the army-wide eulogy Cormag did something unthinkable, even to him: he commemorated her. His said his peace quietly, about her being a person from which he could have learned a lot. Nobody seemed like they truly listened, as the next speaker overlapped him halfway, but he still felt a mite better for it.

"Hey," came a voice beside the ex-commander, and Cormag turned his head to find Tana once again beside him.

Her face was morose and emotionally scarred, not full of her typical vigor. She stood beside him with a small plate with a slice of freshly buttered bread. Cormag loosed a weighted smile and voiced a "Hey" as well before offering her a place in the sand. Tana declined with a nod in the negative, and he dropped his smile.

"I won't stay long. I wanted to say thanks . . . thanks for saying something at the eulogy. Vanessa would have liked it."

Those were words he did not expect from the princess, and his mouth opened slightly as he looked towards her, then back towards the blaze.

"I . . . you're welcome. I didn't know anyone heard it," Cormag uttered, unsure of what else to say. There was silence for half a minute, maybe even a minute, before he looked back to find she too was watching the blaze. He continued with a clearing of his throat. "Is that piece of bread for me?"

"No, it is for me. My appetite is . . . nowhere to be found now," she responded, clutching the plate a little tighter to her body.

With a bob of Cormag's head, things quieted again except for the occasional distant voice. Tana shifted and kneeled into the sand like a camel close by, digging herself into the heated grains as she felt the sand-tossing cold gust rip through the campsite. Cormag pursed his lips. He felt as if he shared her shudder, even with the short distance between them.

"Let's get you closer to the fire," Cormag proposed. "A little warmth will do you good, and the food will taste better with good company."

He readied to raise himself, but Tana stopped him by grabbing his wrist with her free hand.

"I came over here to be in your company, Cormag. Not somebody else's. Yours. I can deal with the cold until I'm done."

Cormag glanced over to find her quivering from head to toe, and in the colourless moonlight he thought he saw slightly ruddied cheeks. Her grip tightened around his wrist as if afraid to let go, and yet her eyes never left the sand before her. She was either determined or sickly, and he dared not interrogate her as to which this was.

"Very well," he defeatedly stated, resetting himself into his imprint upon the dune, "though I can't be the one starting all the conversations. You have to, too."

"Vanessa, then," she replied, still staring off but not losing a dram of resolve. "I wanted you to know what she was like, from my perspective, from my brother's, and from others."

Swallowing hard, fearing what the conversation would turn into later, Cormag assented wordlessly.

"She was as close to a sister as I could get. She never wavered, never lost her place in life, and never left her station, not even as a role model for me. We knew each other all our lives, trained under the same roof, cheated off each other's tests, told secrets, shared so much joy, so much."

Her grip tightened further as tears ran down her face, and Cormag stifled a grimace as she continued.

"Vanessa was . . . a great and trusted knight to my brother . . . respected, valued, maybe loved. I saw the way she looked at him and how he looked at her. She never told me anything, nor did Innes, but I could sense it.

"And Syrene . . . Vanessa had a sister . . . an older sister, who fights on the front lines as well! And wih Vanessa gone, she'll now . . . she'll now . . ."

She could not finish as she started to bawl openly and brought her hand that gripped Cormag's in front of her, planting herself deep into the coarse grains of sand as the ground grew damp with tears. Cormag rose just enough to shuffle to a crouch in front of her, and held out his hand to support her other shoulder. He could feel the stares of others burning holes through his back more intensely than the flame. Feeling awkward, he subconsciously glanced downward, which made him realise that she was still gripping the useless plate tight, and that the bread atop it slid dangerously close to the edge with every sobbing heave.

"Princess," he voiced weakly. Maybe it was the years of military discipline and harnessed emotions, but Cormag was not good at comforting. In fact, he was very bad at comforting in the typical sense, so with a sharp inhale through his nose he attempted a switch to his intended methods. "Tana," he started, "nothing can bring her back, and living with her death will be tough, but we'll all carry a little bit of Vanessa with us until we move on too."

Tana's head bobbed as she meekly listened, wiping the water and nose drippings away from her face. Cormag allowed himself the faintest of smiles, happy that he touched this kind of nerve, before letting it slip away.

"However, there is more I must say to you."

This arrested her attention, as she glanced up to meet his eyes. Her sobs died into hiccuping whimpers, and her chest heaved less.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's about the battle, about . . . after she fell. You rushed off and thoughtlessly charged into the fray. Some archers were still around. You could have been gravely injured or, worse, dead."

"I knew the risks," she spat back crossly, some fire in her gaze. "Am I not allowed to avenge my friend? I want to end this war quickly. I don't want anyone else close to me to die."

Cormag paused, trying to find the right words for the situation, and came up with some.

"By all means, avenge her, but keep in mind your own views, Your Highness. I promised you I won't throw my life away nights back. Can you say the same if I asked of you the same promise?"

"O-of course I can!" she sputtered, angered and surprised.

"Then say it."

"You are a bully, you know that?" she replied, sniffling sharply and wiping her face again. "I'm crying over my fallen friend and you throw something like that at me?"

"You wanted to talk with me, so I'm talking with you," returned Cormag with a shrug. "I'd like you to promise that because I want you safe, like your brother and everyone else out there who cares for your well-being. You deserve your happiness when the war is over, and I want you to live through it to see the good life that awaits you after it."

Tana's waterworks started again as she turned away, either embarrassed, ashamed, still angry, or any sort of mix of the three. Cormag had a hard time discerning exactly what was going on within her head, though he was certain he touched a sensitive topic.

"I don't need anyone taking care of me. I can take care of myself just fine," Tana countered adamantly.

"You're right," he retorted, a heavy sigh escaping as he dropped his head for a moment and brought it back up. "You're an adult, same as I, but I'm stating facts here, facts about what I want for you. Besides, you don't want to put the same pain as with Vanessa on others that know you, right? If you die too, who would do the same as you did, and fall into the same trap of sadness?"

Tana bit her lip, looking up at him every now and again as he spoke and afterwards. She did not have anything to add on, nor did he after that. She wriggled back to her seat in the sand, and Cormag sat anew as well.

Tana dodged Cormag's visage and looked away whenever he tried to make eye contact. This went on three times, but eventually she found the voice to speak.

"Cormag."

"Hmm?"

"What are you fighting for?"

The words hit the ex-commander like a stone to the gut, and the next words came easily to him: "What makes you ask?"

"I saw you fighting, with that blue-haired general and other Gradoan soldiers . . . and for some reason it makes me sad," she uttered, taking up the piece of toast and shaking the sand from her plate.

Cormag observed her for a while as he searched for anything in response.

"I can think of many reasons why a man would fight. Atonement, revenge, entertainment . . . for power . . . for fun . . . but I don't know the reason I am fighting anymore."

"Is that so?" she asked, more a filler sentence than a question.

"Can you expect any more from a man who's lost his faith?" he continued languidly, trying to hide his being offended. "A man whose emperor has gone mad, whose homeland is collapsing, who lost his only remaining family member?"

Tana quieted for a time, her head tilted elsewhere and propped on a hand. Later she asked, "What are you going to do when the war is over?" His temperament cooled slightly over the silence, he answered.

"I'll help rebuild Grado, of course, but I'm not sure what lies beyond that. I doubt I'll remain in Grado for long, though. They branded me a traitor. I'll find no home awaiting me there, in my own land."

"Then"—she shuffled a little closer still—"why don't you come to Frelia? You can join us as an airborne knight, and . . . I'd welcome your company."

"Your brother would not allow it," Cormag scoffed, glancing over to the caravan wagon. "And besides, what makes you think a traitor like me would be welcomed in Frelia?"

"You're no traitor, Cormag," responded Tana, making the effort to get up and sit beside him again, not even bothering to dust off the sand that collected on her clothes and skin. "You stayed true to your beliefs. Your sadness . . . it runs as deep as your faith in your country once ran. If I can voice what I want to you, I want your faith, your strength, and your passion to serve Frelia now. My brother would understand."

Cormag eyed her long and hard, weighing the decision with equal gravity. Joining Frelia, finding a new home in a new land with a sovereign that rivaled the older Vigarde he knew and loved - this was highly tempting, but he shook his head in the end.

"I appreciate the offer, really I do, Princess, but I cannot reforge the oaths I've broken," he answered, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," came Tana, unwavering in voice, her hiccups and sobs seemingly long gone. "However, if you ever wish to serve your beliefs again, remember my offer."

He nodded and looked up at the night sky, catching just a glimpse of the stars as the fire died down behind him.

"I might even just give up this soldiering nonsense and go into woodworking when I get back. I always had a knack for that."

"Then I'll track you down in your woodshop and ask you again!" she persisted as she looked at him with the deepest conviction. He could not hold back a laugh when he caught on to this.

"You may not look it half the time, but you're pretty strong-willed for a royal princess. I'll think about your offer, Your Highness."

Smiling wide and commenting "That'll do," she rose and took a bite out of her bread for the first time before heading back to the camp, her spirit renewed. Cormag watched her with a craned neck and back until she disappeared beyond a recently installed hempen tent, and even then he stared in that direction. Catching himself, he adjusted himself and placed his head in his palm.

"Cormag, ol' pal, you're setting yourself up for failure no matter how you look at it," he chastised verbally before taking the conversation inward. You cannot think about switching allegiances. Your duties are to the land you call home, to its people and to its emperor. Emperor Vigarde gave you and your brother everything. To abandon Grado is to abandon everything you held dear, but if Grado abandons me, or has abandoned me, can I really consider another homeland and another sovereign, especially with a princess you have taken a fancy to?

His argument swaying both ways without a conclusion for many, many minutes, Cormag stood up, brushed the sand from his aching body, and headed back to camp himself. Genarog, that old lizard, probably awaited him in his roost in a massive sand dune, and the ex-commander felt the wyvern needed company, so with a gathering of his bedroll and a small collection of foodstuffs he slipped off into the night to sleep.