The camp was slow to wake in the morning, as sleep's claws were reluctant to release its prize. But the moment the sun's rays caressed Priscilla's face, her eyes fluttered open.

Someone had placed a thin blanket over her after she fell asleep, but Priscilla wasn't too cold. During the cold night, she and her friends had ended up curling closer to each other. Kavil was tucked in between Priscilla and Sulaiman, though he had cuddled closer to Sulaiman, probably chasing the warmth the other man always gave off. Priscilla was cuddled at Kavil's back, not quite spooning but close enough to feel Kavil's body gave off a sleepy warmth that was difficult to resist. Illnyea was sprawled next to Sulaiman, Perry tucked into the crook of her shoulder.

Priscilla let her eyes roam lazily over the camp. Nearly no one else was awake yet, save for Lucilla.

The noblewoman was kneeling in front of the dead, staring at her companion Peli. Tears ran down Lucilla's cheeks and though she was too far away to hear, Priscilla could see the woman's lips moving, whispering something that only the dead would know.

Priscilla looked away from the private moment of grief. She had no idea what Lucilla must be feeling right now, as she had never lost someone before, and Priscilla's mind stuttered trying to think of ways to help Lucilla find peace. It was easier to pretend that Priscilla hadn't seen her and curl closer to Kavil because it really was fucking cold this morning.

As the sun rose higher, its beams became more insistent, and that brought the rest of the camp to full wakefulness.

Now that the adrenaline had faded, Priscilla had to deal with the fact that she was absolutely filthy. It was like blood had become a second skin, sticky and rancid, and she wanted to walk into a piping hot bath and scrub every last drop away.

But that wasn't in the cards, so Priscilla had to make do with a brief expedition to a nearby stream with the women who were well enough to walk or hobble if they were supported. Priscilla and Illnyea swapped standing guard as the evidence of yesterday's tragedy was washed away by the stream. As it was cold, no one lingered in the stream, passing around a bar of soap to clean efficiently. Priscilla's skin still felt itchy like blood was still soaked into her pores when she was finished, but there was nothing else she could do.

Kavil completed another round of healing when everyone was clean, treating those he hadn't been able to reach yesterday even though his magic stores probably hadn't fully recovered yet. He said it was important to make sure that everyone was stable enough to travel, waving off concerns for his health. Sulaiman hovered over his shoulder, eyes sharp like a hawk waiting for hint of weakness, for Kavil to waver even slightly. Priscilla suspected that instead of pouncing like a hawk, however, Sulaiman would simply pick Kavil up over his shoulder if the healer overextended himself and then plop him back in front of the fire with strict orders to eat. He might even sit on Kavil if the healer complained, and the image made Priscilla chuckle.

Mr. Ordan found several pots and cooked up a hearty soup for breakfast, the type that was nostalgic in the best way. It stuck to your ribs and filled every inch of your body with a warmth that lingered for hours. Based on the way the survivors were nearly brought to tears as they tasted it, it was exactly what they needed.

Lucilla sat quietly next to Priscilla and Kavil, staring at the bowl with a vacant expression. Though she had cleaned her hair, Lucilla was still a far cry from the ditzy but well-meaning noble who had worried about a hypothetical deer attack with a stranger. She seemed smaller now, her shoulders sloping downwards like she didn't have the energy to maintain her proper posture.

"Will you tell me what happened to you?" Priscilla asked, setting aside her now empty bowl.

Lucilla blinked, blue eyes clearing for a moment, and then they sharpened, happy to be given a purpose.

"P—Peli," Lucilla said, stumbling over the name, face momentarily crumpling with grief before she took in a shuddering breath. "Peligran von Straus and I wanted to travel to the capital for the tournament, as we do every year. But with the… the deer attacks, I was too nervous to travel just the two of us. Though Peli hated people, he agreed to travel with a larger group to make me feel better.

"So, we put in a request with the scribe's guild to connect us with others headed north," Lucilla continued, her knuckles white against the bowl's rim, "and another request with the mercenary guild for a contingent of guards."

Her gaze drifted to the armored men and women who were either speaking quietly with each other, or staring off into the distance in the way that suggested they saw nothing at all.

"It was all supposed to be overkill," Lucilla whispered, her voice haunted. "Peli was supposed to tease me for being a worrywart, and I, I was supposed to thank him for his kindness and putting up with me, and we — "

Lucilla's breath caught, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"We were supposed to grow old together," Lucilla whispered, hands shaking so hard that the soup threatened to spill, "making fun of everyone else, and, and he wasn't supposed to leave me all alone."

Priscilla was never good at comforting people and she stared at Lucilla at a loss, chewing on her lip as she tried and failed to find the words.

Luckily, it wasn't just Priscilla there.

Kavil reached out and gently took the bowl from Lucilla's hands, setting it aside before taking her hand.

"I am so sorry for your loss," Kavil said, tilting his head so that he could meet her eyes. "I know how hard it is to lose someone you thought would be a constant in your life, and words fail to do it justice. Just know that you are not alone, Miss Lucilla, and that your friend would have been happy you survived."

The noblewoman stared at Kavil with muted heartbreak, her lips quivering. She looked away, but her fingers tightened around his.

"We stopped at a waystation," Lucilla whispered, picking up her story where she had left off, "just to rest for a night. I was sore from traveling and Peli insisted I sleep in a real bed, so we stopped. And then…" She closed her eyes, breathing shallowly. "The deer attacked. It was in the middle of the night and we lost too many as we tried to escape. We've barely slept since then, barely eaten or known a moment without fear as we ran but… they still found us and I thought we were all about to die before you arrived."

And they probably would have all died, Priscilla thought as she glanced around. These people weren't fighters, and based on how the guard had fought last night, they were more equipped to fight people than beasts that outweighed them by several tons. If you were taken by surprise and had no access to magic, there was a very low chance of surviving an encounter with that many dire deer. There hadn't been any sign of the deer yet today, but Priscilla couldn't get rid of the tension in her back since she couldn't be sure the cult had gotten what it wanted.

"How about you finish your food," Priscilla suggested gently and Lucilla's eyes fluttered open to look at her, "and then you can introduce me to your traveling companions, okay?"

Lucilla didn't seem enthused by the idea but Kavil said, "That sounds like a great idea. After we finish that, I'd like you to tell me more about Peli and if you knew what gods he believed in — I'm not a priest, but I was raised by a priestess of Gaelea, so I'm familiar with funeral rites associated with nature. I'd be honored if you let me help prepare his body for burial."

Lucilla burst into ugly sobs, launching herself to pull Kavil into an embrace, whispering over and over, "Thank you, thank you."

Once Lucilla regained her composure, she finished her soup in record speed and then introduced them to everyone else.

Most of the thirty-some-odd survivors fell into one of three categories: guards who had been hired by Lucilla, artists who belonged to a group called Juyla's Brush, or a collection of small-time merchants that hoped to take advantage of the capital's markets. As they met everyone and accepted their effusive thanks, Priscilla couldn't pinpoint anyone who would make an obvious target for the cult. For now, she was leaning towards one of the two nobles being the target, but Priscilla wanted to talk to the merchants later to see what type of things they traded in.

Kavil found out who the other two deceased were and asked their closest companions what type of funeral rites they would have preferred. He was solemn as he prepared the bodies, whispering the prayers that had been tearfully told to him, urging the Shade Father to be gentle as He welcomed His newest guests. The bodies were wrapped in the salvaged canvas so they could be moved into a carriage to be buried at the capital.

They decided to travel the rest of the way to the capital with the survivors, as they were vulnerable with their injuries. Kavil was forced into the carriage by Sulaiman after completing a final health check on everyone and then Kavil promptly crashed, snoring as he ungracefully sprawled on the cheese in their carriage. The ones with the worst injuries were carefully helped into the wagon that had survived the deer's onslaught that wasn't carrying the dead. Priscilla, Sulaiman, and Illnyea opted to travel on foot, as they had donated their horses to pull the carriages since the survivor's horses had run off or died during the attack.

The pace was much slower, but Illnyea proved once again that she was a bubble of sunshine that made the world better simply by existing. Illnyea cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention as she stood straight.

"Bonnie Mae was fine ol' lass," Illnyea sang as they rounded a bend, her clear voice carrying, "a sweet ol' lass was she. With a voice like a jay on a summer's day, Bonnie was the talk of town. Down the streets they came, the men with jaws a-gape — all with the hope of catching a glimpse of that sweet ol' Bonnie Mae."

Priscilla had never heard this song sung before, but she had read it enough times she had it memorized. It was supposedly a common traveling song that most people learned, if only because others sang loudly and often enough it sank into their subconscious. She listened long enough to feel the rhythm of the song before joining Illnyea as the chorus came around once more.

"Bonnie Mae was a fine ol' lass," Priscilla joined with several others, "a clever ol' lass was she. With eyes like an owl fresh on the prowl, Bonnie surveyed those men. Their honeyed words they gave, without a second thought — all with the hope of catching the heart of that clever ol' Bonnie Mae."

The air lightened as more and more people's voices twined with Illnyea's as they talked about the many men's attempted courtship of the lovely Bonnie Mae. She gave them challenge after challenge to win her hand, but at the end of the song, Bonnie Mae declared that she was better off alone since she was so unimpressed with her options.

Some of the life returned to the caravan, and Jenny, the woman with the previously broken and now just tender leg, launched into a rendition of the Dread Dragon Drachma. That song was silly at its core, and it had people laughing and smiling as they sang about Drachma stealing a castle right out from a king who annoyed him.

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Lucilla smiled faintly at the festivities, but she didn't join. She was slightly more put together than yesterday, hair carefully braided down her back, and traveling skirts neatly swishing around her ankles. Her gaze stayed locked onto the horizon, at the mountains in the distance. Priscilla knew that the capital was nestled in between two mountains on the edge of the Haulsson Sea, and she wondered what Lucilla was thinking.

When they stopped for lunch (of soup again, as it was easy to make in bulk, and Priscilla wasn't going to complain because Mr. Ordan was a damn good cook), Priscilla made sure to bring Lucilla a bowl. Kavil was busying himself checking on everyone's wounds since he had woken up from his nap with Sulaiman shadowing his every step.

"Ah," Lucilla said, taking the bowl after a moment of hesitation, "thank you, Miss Sunscarre."

"Call me Priscilla," she said easily, plopping down onto the ground. She crossed her legs and made herself comfortable.

Lucilla opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked at Priscilla with an odd expression, eyes assessing but in a soft way, eyebrows tilted upwards as her blue eyes roamed over Priscilla's face. Priscilla raised her eyebrows, then looked pointedly between the bowl Lucilla held and her face.

"You may call me Lucilla," the noblewoman said quietly, taking a bite of the soup, "as it is only fair I speak informally with my savior."

"Thanks, Lucilla," Priscilla said, "but you don't need to be worrying too much about the savior thing — Illnyea's the one who charged in to help you guys, I was mostly just her back up, and I'm sure she'll insist on informality as well."

Lucilla's eyes flicked to where Illnyea was sitting with some of the younger guards, telling a story with wild gestures that made them laugh.

"Do not downplay your own accomplishments, Priscilla," Lucilla said. "It is rare to find both bravery and a cool mind in one as young as yourself."

Priscilla felt distinctly uncomfortable with that compliment because she was mentally six years older than she seemed, and needed this conversation to shift topics.

"So, if I remember correctly," Priscilla said only a little gracelessly after eating about half of her bowl, "we met in a fabric stall, right?"

Lucilla nodded. "P… Peli and I were looking for fabric for our outfits at the tournament. We…" Lucilla swallowed, but kept her composure despite the wetness in her eyes. "We prided ourselves on being some of the best dressed in attendance."

"Were you able to decide on what you wanted to wear?" Priscilla asked gently.

"Peli…" Lucilla shook her head and dabbed away the tears. "Peli knew a woman in the capital that used magic to complete rush orders, but now that he's… dead, I don't know if she'd be willing to work with me since I don't even have a design. Peli was of a higher station, you know, and sometimes that meant he could get things done that I simply couldn't."

She spoke very matter of fact, with only a tinge of old bitterness that was drowned by grief.

"Well," Priscilla said, taking one more bite, "I may not be magical, but if you'd like, I could design a dress for you."

Some of the spark that had been there at the festival returned to Lucilla's eyes.

"Oh?" Lucilla said, sitting a little straighter. "Are you a fashion designer, dearie?"

Yes, Priscilla wanted to say but she wasn't, not really, not in this life.

"I dabble," Priscilla said humbly.

"Do you have any examples of your work?" Lucilla asked.

"I can show you my sketchbook."

"Please do."

Lucilla's bowl of soup was forgotten as she flipped carefully turned the pages of Priscilla's sketchbook, but this was the most animated Priscilla had seen the woman, so she was loath to smother that spark. She'd have to make sure that Lucilla snacked more before dinner. Perhaps some cheese could tempt her.

With soft fingers, Lucilla ran her nail down a dress that Priscilla had drawn after encountering her at the festival. It had been inspired by the tudor-like gown Lucilla had worn, but Priscilla had added her own twist to make it something she would be comfortable wearing.

The bodice was form fitting, made of a carmine red fabric. Gold detailing was a mixture of leaves, vines, and snakes, and it lined the breasts and waistline, with several gold chains looping down the side of the red overskirt and dangled over the front of the cream underskirt. Funnel sleeves that matched in color with the underskirt started halfway down the bicep, and were pinched just above the elbow with more gold detailing before flowing freely. Along the bottom of the skirts were a line of gold embroidery.

The look was completed with a thick red choker with a dangling golden sun.

"This is beautiful," Lucilla said in a hush.

"You inspired it," Priscilla admitted.

Lucilla's head jerked up, disbelief splashed across her face. She looked back at the design with wide eyes, taking even longer to take it all in before swallowing hard.

"I… I'm too old to pull this off," Lucilla said, regret and longing tangling in her voice.

And that simply wouldn't do — there was no such thing as age when it came to fashion. What mattered most was what you wanted to wear and that you felt good while wearing it. Lucilla was in her mid-thirties, but it was a well-kept mid-thirties, the only real betrayal of her age the lines around her eyes.

"Is it the amount of skin showing?" Priscilla asked, fingers itching for a pencil. "I could add a layer of lace between the top of the bodice and connect it to the sleeves and choker if that's what's holding you back. You'd probably need a shawl because of the cold, but I think you'd look fantastic in it as it is now. The red would look great with your skin tone, and I'd bet you easily turn heads of men a decade younger than you if you're in the market for a man. If I started this evening by getting your measurements, I can probably get some patterns done by tomorrow night. They'll have to be adjusted as the dress is made, but they'll work fine enough in the beginning."

Lucilla stared at Priscilla for a long moment, long enough that Priscilla was afraid that she overstepped. The noblewoman looked back at the design, running a finger over the sleeves.

"No, no," Lucilla said. "It doesn't need to be changed but…" She glanced up, the most serious expression Priscilla had seen outside of when Lucilla spoke of what had happened to her. Lucilla's voice was a whisper as she said, "Are you certain you wish to give me this design? I know many others would pay top gold for something like this — I don't think I've seen anything like this before."

"It's all yours," Priscilla said, as she hadn't planned on doing anything with the design. "I'm not doing that much, as I don't think I'll be able to sew it for you because I'll be pretty busy once we go to the capital."

The life of a fashion designer was behind her, this was all just indulging those instincts she had honed for nearly a decade. It would be nice to wear the dress herself, but with how life was shaping up with fighting the cult, Priscilla would be lucky to have enough downtime to properly create a custom dress like that. If Asha was larger, perhaps Priscilla would work with the artifact to adjust into a perfect dress, but there was no use in wishing for things that couldn't be.

If this design could help make Lucilla happy after losing what appeared to be one of her closest friends, Priscilla was glad to share it.

Lucilla's fingers tightened, staring at Priscilla with a conflicted expression.

"But still," Lucilla said, insistent, "you and I — we're strangers, yet you are willing to do this for me for free and, and I can't accept that."

Priscilla's eyebrows rose up. "You can't?"

"No," Lucilla said, her eyes the clearest Priscilla had seen them, "I must repay you for this work, because I intend to commission three other designs from you because your work is some of the finest I've seen. Please, tell me what you would like in return."

Priscilla took a moment to consider this unexpected opportunity.

If Illnyea was offered this, she would likely insist on requesting the lowest amount of gold she could get away with, and Kavil would probably ask for something like rare herbs or medicine. Sulaiman might be the most practical and ask for enough money to fund their travels, but Priscilla's eyes were on a much larger prize.

Before Priscilla sat a gold mine and she would not hesitate to gain those riches for herself. Like she liked to tell herself, it wasn't manipulation if it was for a good cause.

"Well," Priscilla said with a careful casualness, "if you really want to repay me, Lucilla, I guess I do have a few ideas, if it isn't too much."

"If it is within my power," Lucilla said, reaching out to gently squeeze Priscilla's hand, "it will be yours."

Priscilla made a show of glancing around to make sure no one was around to overhear them.

"My sister will be entering the Equinarial Tournament," Priscilla said, "but I have different plans for when I get to the capital, ones that might cause me to… brush shoulders with people with a much higher station than my own."

Just enough ambiguity in Priscilla's request drew Lucilla in like the moon to a planet with the pull of curiosity.

"If you would not mind," Priscilla continued, "I would appreciate you giving me a little information and introducing me to a few of your noble acquaintances."

Lucilla's eyebrows shot up. "Whatever for? Not that I'm unwilling," she added quickly, "I'm just taken aback by your request."

A careful application of the truth would work like a charm when Lucilla's heart was still raw and bleeding. An added bonus was that it'd help gauge the noblewoman's trustworthiness.

"This isn't the first time my friends and I have come across rabid monsters on the way to the capital," Priscilla said quietly. "I'm afraid I'm starting to see a pattern within our kingdom, an ugly thing that's led to far too many lives lost."

Lucilla gasped, horror stricken across her features and her hand trembled as she covered her mouth. Her reaction seemed genuine, so Priscilla pushed, only a faint pang of regret at using Lucilla's grief this way. Asha immediately soothed her with a rush of reassurance and Priscilla continued, emboldened by her artifact's support.

"No matter how hard we try," Priscilla said, a tinge of self-deprecation and true bitterness in her voice, "my friends and I can't save everyone, as there's too many of these tragedies occurring all over Kavendash. I hope to find allies in the capital, true allies with real power to actually fix this problem so no one else has to die."

"And you thought of nobles," Lucilla whispered, eyes still wide, "as we should be bound by noblesse oblige when we learn of it."

Priscilla nodded slowly, letting Lucilla wrap her head around it. The noblewoman was quiet, her conflicted gaze dropping from Priscilla to stare at the design once more. Lucilla swallowed hard, lips trembling as she thought, and Priscilla thought Lucilla was hovering on the precipice.

"If it's too much, I understand," Priscilla said in her best conciliatory tone. "I'm just a commoner and I know I don't belong in those circles."

That pushed Lucilla over the edge, her blue eyes blazing as her gaze snapped up.

"No, I will do it," Lucilla said, voice shaking with righteous indignation. "If anyone complains about your presence, I shall channel my dearest Peli and give them a tongue lashing that will leave them smarting for days. What sort of information did you need to know so that the people of Kavendash can be safe?"

It was so fucking satisfying when a plan worked perfectly, but Priscilla kept that satisfaction deep inside where only Asha could sense it.

"We'll probably need to keep my real intention hidden," Priscilla said, sharing a sly little smile with Lucilla that implied it was just the two of them against the world. "I don't want to believe in the word of people, but with the sudden frequency of these attacks, I have a bad feeling that there might be something, or someone, influencing it."

Lucilla's eyes went wide, what looked like to be an instinctive rejection of the notion that a noble was behind this on her tongue, but then she closed her mouth slowly.

"Peli did tell me I was too naive," Lucilla said, "as I like to believe in the best of those I meet, but I admit that if there is somehow a nation wide conspiracy, that some of the nobility must be involved for it to work." Priscilla's eyebrows briefly went up in surprise at the open admission and Lucilla returned a rueful smile. "I am not stupid, just overly trusting as Peli liked to put it."

"Anyone you can introduce me to will be helpful," Priscilla said. "If you can give me a brief crash course on the ranks of nobility and who's who, that would be fantastic."

Once Priscilla knew how the nobles were related to each other, she would be able to plot out a course to get herself acquainted with the duchess. With Lucilla acting as her guarantor and ticket to exclusive events, Priscilla would be able to make those connections far more easily. Duchess Loviisa Jencard may not know it yet, but Priscilla was coming for her, in the least threatening way possible.

"I'll do you one better," Lucilla said, her shoulders straightened with renewed determination. "I shall share all the rumors and gossip about everyone I know so you can use that dirt against them. In fact, let me tell you about King Rhys — last year his wife, Audovera, died of sickness. She had borne him three true heirs, Princess Malina, Prince Franco, and Prince Wilhem. But," Lucilla's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "though the king has strayed often from his marriage bed, no one's managed to find any of his bastards. Some say he has them smothered in the crib so they don't cause a problem for his trueborns."

Priscilla's smile grew as Lucilla spoke, slow and satisfied as she got exactly what she had been hoping for.

"Tell me more," Priscilla whispered and Lucilla grinned.

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