[Aside] A Cottage Where the Truth Hides

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Kokuten
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[Aside] A Cottage Where the Truth Hides

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When Percival had first heard Raiko called 'hime', he always thought it meant that she was just highly respected, or just extremely pompous. When Percival had actually seen Raiko's 'home', he suddenly found out that that was just because she was loaded. The girl who went to the every-day school was more than just a girl who went to an every-day school, she was a rich girl, with retainers. The whole thing felt almost like a page out of an ancient english history book, with rich lords and ladys and their knights and thanes. To think, Ruarc lived here of all places. Percival had always smelled the dust of the Irish earth on the young man's skin in passing by.

Now, it wasn't as if Percy had taken a deep whiff of the guy, but he could smell the ancient magics that hung heavy on him. Druids always 'smelled' like magic, they engorged in the mysticism of the forests, and bathed in energies nestled in the ancients glades, practicing their runes. At least, that's what Percy had read on the Irish Druids. They were an interesting people to say the least, but despite all the reading, the young Welshman had never bothered to really get to know Ruarc outside of school. He found that a failing he intended to correct since he was going to spend a lot of time in Japan, or at least, until Riley decided it was time to go.

So, he was there at the gate, several books in hand. Each tome was almost a foot tall with about three-hundred pages to each, each glittering with runes that only someone who was trained, or graduated Rune-Literacy 11, would be able to read. Books were great for transporting magical information openly, as non-mags assumed that they were just fantasy tomes, or props. The most recent years, and the media industry had been very kind to the society of mages. Still, these books were here for a purpose, because Percival couldn't read them, and what he 'could' skim were the names of the titles, written in late gaelic.

Hoelbahn's Grimiore of Elemental Writ

Gerabad's War Runes

Gahlia's Stone and Herb

And one very perplexing book.

The End

These were all books his headmaster had given him on his depature of Bangor, to advance his rune studies. Though, those sort of studies only helped people who used runes, which was definitely not him. One thing was for sure, these books were very old, and thanks to Percival's training as a scribe along with Bangor Elemental library, these books were in excellent condition. Though the main reason Percival had brought these was a little less of factual matter.

They smelled like Irish Druidism, like Ruarc.

Bzzzz! Hawked the buzzer as he pressed a finger to it, letting the groundskeeper know he was here.

Ruarc was out behind the manor working in one of the flower beds when he heard the shrill noise to the entrance buzzer. Lifting his head up from his work, he thought to himself about how odd it was actually hearing that old call; after all Raiko's friends just used their cell phones to get attention, and the manor did not receive many guests.

"Just a minute!" Ruarc called as he got up and brushed the dirt from his pant legs. "On my way!"

With a brisk pace, the Irishman made his way around the substantial yard to the front gate, and upon getting closer he recognized who had pushed the buzzer. It was Percy.

"Well, hey there Percy, what brings you all the way out here?" Ruarc asked the younger boy as he reached the gate and opened it, thus welcoming the Welshman inside.

There was a moment of silence when Percival had to take in a certain fact.

"Ruarc? What are you doing in those clothes?" asked Percival, somewhat perplexed as he stepped into the gate, looking the irishman up and down. Ginga had told him that Ruarc had lived here, but what was he doing all dirtied up?

"My clothes?" Ruarc asked, repeating the question as he was caught off guard. Looking down at himself he could see just how much dirt he had accumulated, and thought of why Percy might be confused. "Well, I was just doing some gardening out back," he asnwered. "One o' the shrubs died, so I was pulling it up. Why do you ask?"

"Well, don't you live here?" asked the young man, arching a brow curiously as he kept his books closely tucked under his arm as he let the gate close behind him. While he let Ruarc answer, Percival took a look around, taking in the surrounding areas, noting that the well-kept garden looked a whole lot better. "You'd think Raiko would have people doing this for her instead of making guests do it."

"Aha, I can see why you're confused," Ruarc remarked as he snapped his fingers in realization. "Ya see, I am more of a live-in garderner than I am a guest. Raiko an' I worked out a deal so I wasn't livin' under a bridge like a troll. That is my cottage over there." Ruarc then pointed out the the left side of the manor where a small cottage covered in vines sat at the edge of the property.

"All in all, I am pretty grateful. Hell, I am even getting paid," said the Irishman with a smile before he looked back to Percy. "Oi, you wouldn't happen to want a hand with those books would ya?"

A live-in gardener? For some reason, that made a whole lot more sense to Percival than Ruarc actually being a guest at some rich girl's house. No man was that lucky.

"Oh no," said Percival, looking down at Ruarcs somewhat-dirtied fingers, "No offense, but I'd prefer you'd wash your hands thoroughly before handling these. They're very old, you know." The young man shifted his weight so they were easier to carry, the cool wintery sun reflecting off the glittering runes on their cover. "The only reason I was able to make the trip with them was because the humidity was so low today. Winter's an excellent time to transfer books."

"Alright, I can respect that," Ruarc said as he pulled his hands away from the books. Now taking a good look at the think texts that the younger boy was holding, Ruarc adjusted his glasses a bit as he read the recognizable runes.

"Oh! Gahlia's Stone and Herb, that's a classic. I can understand why you wouldn't want me touching 'em right now. Those are in much better condition than the ones I'd seen in the Druidic libraries. Though, if I may, why exactly are you transporting old tomes?"

"These are rune-books, gaelic books," explained Percival, carefully rubbing his hand over the book Ruarc just mentioned, it's face sitting on the top. "My headmaster entrusted these volumes to me because I was a good librarian in my off-time, and I was a straight A student. These are all 2nd Editions, save for the last one." The young welshman smiled to his brother from across the waters, and nodded over to his cottage, "Since I can't really use magic, I can't use runes, so learning any more on the practices are are tad moot, especially since I can only read Welsh burial runes and a bit of Icelandic. This is all in Gaelic. So, I thought you might find a little more use in them than I would."

With an appreciative whistle, Ruarc looked over the well kept books. He recognized all of the names except for the one Percy mentioned, the last one. "The End?" he thought to himself as he examined the binding closer. "I've never even heard of that one."

"Well, Percy, you're in luck. Gaelic is my specialty," the Druid boasted as he then gestured with an open hand towards his cottage. "So, how's about settin' those down inside and having some tea while you are here? I also have coffee."

"Coffee would be great. I haven't been getting much sleep since our spars with Duncan about three weeks ago," answered Percival gratefully, making his way towards the cottage, "I was hoping you'd find some kind of use out of these, to be honest, they were collecting dust over a few of my alchemy books. Luckily, I was able to dust it off without removing much of the Librarium Powder."

"Coffee it is then," Ruarc chimed as he lead his friend to the humble home. The once solid green color of the vines had now shifted in the early winter season to a fiery orange and light brown as the leaves and vines began to dry. The warm remnants of fall colors were brushed to the side of the kitchen window and the old oak door.

Once he reached the door way, Ruarc opened it up with a slight creak as more light found its way inside. What used to be a dusty old storage shed had been worked into a comfortable homestead that was perfect for the rural Irish Druid. Holding open the heavy front door, the Irishman ushered his burdened friend into the main living area that was comprised of the kitchen and dining room.

"You can set your books down on the table," Ruarc told Percy. "And no worries, the table is a lot cleaner than my hands are."

The young messenger of the elemental gods tested that with the tip of his finger. There was a very small trace of dust, but small as one end of the table hadn't seen as much use as the other. He eyed the tip of his index, and nodded with mild approval, before gently setting down each book with care.

"I've heard that druids live humbly but is there even electricity in here?" asked Percival, looking about for even blue-fire lamp.

"Bah, we Druids live off of only what the spirits of the land provide for us," Ruarc said in a slightly mocking tone as he shut the door and cutting off the cool breezes. From there he walked over to the stove and hit a light switch which illuminated the entire room in a soft glow. "At my home back in Ireland, no, there is no electricity. Here, there is, if only for the fact that regular gardeners probably aren't as hardy."

"You don't even use magic to illuminate your homes? I thought runes had that kind of permanency," asked Percival, quite interested in Ruarc's culture as a scribe himself.

"Back home, yes, I use light runes, but I was raised with electricity and I find it in some little way comforting way out here in Japan," Ruarc continued as he went about gathering the equipment to prepare the coffee. "If it makes ya feel better I am using a press to make the coffee as opposed to an electric pot." With that, he set a kettle of water, that he got from the sink, on top of the stove and ignited the burner.

"Since you seem curious, no, Druids don't use runes for everything," Ruarc said as he turned around and leaned against the counter. "For lighting, runes are more convenient than oil, but otherwise we use, well, nature's bounty. We feel that only by utilizing what nature has to offer do we truly appreciate the world around us, so long as those resources are used responsibly."

"Then it's just like in the books, it's no wonder your society is isolated even from the average mage community," commented Percival, taking a seat at the table and leaning on it with his elbows, "Still, the advancements in non-mag technomancy has made it a lot easier for our kind of people to hide amongst them. Since we have electricity, there's no temptation to use magic in your home for certain conveniences. Though, for someone who comes from such an isolated sect of magic, why would you come all the way to Japan? This country is well known among the non-mags for its Technomancers."

Percy's question prompted one of the most genuine laughs that Ruarc had had for quite some time. "That, Percy, is the million dollar question," Ruarc replied as he continued to chuckle for some time. "I have been asking that same question since I got here, for it is exactly as you said. The Druids have always been a very strict, tradition based society, so why send me to a very modernized city, or rather country as a whole, that isn't even in the same realm of magical practice? The conclusion I had reached was that it was all because of Caoranach, given that it is a Celtic demon it should be my responsibility. The wrench in my plan is that Caoranach isn't the only mission I have been tasked with."

"Laoise?"

This stopped Ruarc's chuckling. "What about her?"

"I'd assume your other task would be to find her," Percy put his hand on the book titled, The End, "I was hoping you'd find your find your answer to that mission in one of these books, so she could come back safe."

Ruarc gave a heavy sigh as the kettle behind him began to whistle. Using the task of making the coffee as a focus, he continued on. "Well, I appreciate that Percy, I really do. But no, finding Laoise is a personal task, not one assigned by the Council. Those geezers probably don't care to much about one lost Guide," he said as he pressed the grounds. "Anyway, I had wanted to ask you about that tome right there, The End. I have never heard of it before, what does it deal with?"

"I was going to ask you that. Headmaster Finnigan gave me twenty books to start my personal library. When talking about this book, he said that 'I would need it should my curse cause me trouble'," explained Percival, trying to comfort himself at bringing up a sensitive subject without needing to. Still, he felt uneasy, not because of the subject, but because the book he had his hand on. "I never really opened the book itself. Headmaster Finnigan told that it wasn't for me to use, just for my purpose."

The young man found himself somewhat distracted though, staring off at one of the frosty windows to the edge of the room. "In what sleep I've been able to get lately, I've seen the book in my dreams. I see it carried by a woman onto a clear field, read in gaelic, and inscribed on stone. Whenever I ask the pantheon about it, they have no answers, but are perplexed of to why I have such progressive dreams."

Percival let out a harrowed sigh, and slid the book towards Ruarc, "It's yours if you want it. I get an uneasy feeling just staring at it these days."

As Percy described his own situation, Ruarc had a look on his face that implied that he was deep in thought. He mumbled a few things to himself as he tended to do when thinking about such tricky issues, all the while going about pouring the coffee into two cups.

"Here's your coffee," Ruarc said in a rather flat tone as he continued to think on the matter. "Well, it is believed that in the early days of the human race, we were incapable of conversing with the spirits around us. So the spirits of the land found a way to talk to us through while we sleep, thus giving us dreams. So, just applying folklore, it might be that the book's innate magic is trying to tell you something."

Now sitting down himself, he sat his own cup of coffee at arm's length to keep it away from the ancient books. Then bringing the tome in question closer to himself, he ran his fingers over the cover. "It really does feel ominous," he commentated as he brushed over the engraved runes of the title. With slight hesitation, the Druid opened the large book to its introductory pages. "I must admit, you've piqued my curiosity about the bound harbinger."

Percy fidgeted a little bit as Ruarc peeled open the pages and looked inside. The introductory page revealed one thing, this book was old. The letters were penned in blood, though Ruarc's keen senses and literary experience told him it was simply sheeps blood. Still, the book itself was written in a dialect he had been forced to study out of the dustiest tomes. The words were in a old gaelic, a dialect that seemed to transist the birth of the language, but he was able to gather it.
The End.

I have chosen to call this compendium The End, because if you are reading it, it is the last place you've come to seek vestiges of power or scholarly knowledge. As you know, as I'm sure you know, the soul is the source of all magic. The soul binds magic to the body, and in some cases carries a persons power. However, a soul is also a person, a being, an existence. Should one choose to spend a soul of its power, then that being removed from existence, thus, The End.

Many years ago, the mages of Babylon sacrificed their lessers to force magic into the bodies of infants. This blood magic was the result of a race of Fonts which transpire even to this day. Fonts, once thought to made to be magic 'storage', were made for a more sinister purpose. The truth belied what our ancestors wished to believe, what many of you who read this will refuse to believe. That thousands of mages were sacrificed into one unknowing infant, bringing onto that child untold power. When the child was bound with the proper runes, they were placed in a machine known as a Meshlagal.

This machine tore their souls from their bodies, and brought forth those very souls for the ancient elder mages to eat and consume the power of a thousand mages at the cost of eradicating one existence. In that age, it was considered moral, not so in this.

I thought otherwise, of my age. I do not take part in these practices, but these arts will not be lost, as long as I hold a quill. I should hope you only hold this book to bind a font's magic, instead of the dark secrets that persist. Knowledge should never be forgotten, but men's darkness often seeks to abuse that mantra. I only beg that you respect the rituals as a scribe, and not as a mage. For here, you will learn the horrors that persisted, runes that bind, that tear, that break and destroy the souls of man and mage. The devouring techniques that steal the powers of souls, and the contracts to be made of demons to devour theirs. Should you seek immediate power, then the first chapter of this book is all that will concern you.

I leave you with this warning, reader. Appreciate the knowledge only, for if you do any more, then you will exceed the end of limits that any mages should go.
Any distraction that might have been on Ruarc's mind vanished as he read the foreboding introduction, and his face had adopted a look of stern concentration. After another look over the blood scratches to make certain of his accuracy, the Druid let out a heavy sigh.

"This..." Ruarc started but then paused as he tried to figure out what to say, "This is a...well, it has me at a loss of words to be honest. It talks of dark magic that I'd never imagined, and it talks of magic that is considered the greatest taboo a Druid could commit. Namely, desecrating the soul. It also speaks of Fonts." The Druid looked over to Percy to find him looking a little nervous. "This is a very heavy piece of reading material, my friend. It may take me sometime to work through it all."

As he went to turn into the start of the first chapter his hand froze as he remembered the warning of the introduction, as well as what it implied. "This may actually be of use, it could help me beat Caoranach and get Laoise back," he thought as Greed and Wrath surfaced in his mind.

"Ah... Uhm..." Percival began to twiddle his thumbs nervously as his eyes seemed to follow Ruarc's back down to the book.
Chapter - 1
The Ancient Runes

This chapter covers the basic runes that need to be understood to use the Soul Magic within this book. A majority of these runes deal with the four basic elements, but introduces blood as a fifth, as blood is required root the soul. Each one requires careful application, and fine tools are recommended.
The book seemed to have several Rune Ruarc hadn't seen before, some of which with specifically disturbing effects.

Molten Blood, heating your enemys insides the longer you press this rune on them, making their blood run with molten fire

Soul Freeze, write on your enemys to bind their soul and appear for death.

Rock Heart, write on the skin to turn the skin to stone, write on the heart to turn the heart to stone.

Muscle Rend, press onto the bodies of your enemies to have electricity tear and cut their sinew and tendons

Ichor Thief, mark on your slaves so that their blood is more easily stolen for your magics.

Soul Shot, fire a portion of your soul into your enemies for surprisingly devastating effects.

Each Rune beyond that had grim uses, some surgical, some of the immoral combat variety. However, each Rune focused on alter or using an aspect of the body on a human being to further magic. Some of the effects were enough to make even the toughest man's heart sworl in nervous terror. These magicks were as dark as the cover of the book.

The look of stern concentration had now lapsed into one of grim understanding as Ruarc read through the heinous runes portrayed in the chapter. Had it been one of the older, more regimental Druids reading this book, the novice Druid had no doubt that the book would be taken and torched; or at the very least locked away in the darkest recesses of a Druidic vault.

Ruarc on the other hand pushed passed the disturbing taboos suggested in the text for the sake of discovering the book's dark secrets. He also found himself thinking that perhaps it was because he was young and impressionable that the Council selected him to go to Japan; after all he was not stuck in the ways of tradition, and therefore he was not as hindered by sacrilege such as the concepts he now found himself learning about.

"The only thing in here I could even bear to consider using would be that Soul Shot rune, for at least then I am only my own energy as opposed to stealing from others," Ruarc thought to himself as examined a few of the chapter's runes more closely while avoiding others.

With the first chapter finished, Ruarc sat up straight and stretched before reaching over for his cup of coffee. "How could a person even consider creating these runes, much less making them a reality?" Ruarc said as he took a few sips of his bitter drink. "I s'pose its true what they say about the temptation of power and its ability to tarnish the hearts of men. But still, to go as far as this?"

Pushing his back in his chair the Druid repeated the warning of the author. "Appreciate the knowledge only, for if you do any more, then you will exceed the end of limits that any mages should go."

Percival blinked, holding his coffee in both hands as he listened to Ruarc speak. For the entire time Ruarc had been looking over the runes, he had been attentively sipping his coffee, and watching wide-eyed. Apparently it was a lot more dangerous than the boy had originally imagined it would be. Yet that last line seemed to catch a tune with him.

"My Headmaster used to say that from time to time," chimed Percival, finally speaking after he had finished most of his coffee, setting the empty cup onto the table. There was a mildness to his nature now, as if he had the energy to relax, "everytime he mentioned something we were studying beyond our grasp."

"Well, your Headmaster sounds like a very wise man," Ruarc said as he finished his own coffee at which point he stood up and walked over to the counter again. "You want another cup? I also have some bread and cheese if you are hungry at all."

"I'm not all that hungry, to be honest," dismissed Percy, making a deep sigh as he looked off towards the window, "It's a little hard to grasp just why Finnigan sent me off with that book. Could you think of any reason why?"

Shrugging at Percy's decline, Ruarc went to the fridge and grabbed a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. While he sliced off pieces of each he hummed lightly as he thought over the big question at hand. "Well, all I could really offer would be little more than me grasping at straws," the Druid responded, now sounding a bit more upbeat as he occupied himself with readying a snack for himself. "Given the gravity of the contents within this book, as well as the apparent wisdom of your Headmaster, then I would feel confident is saying that he definitely thought that whatever is hidden inside of the heavy pages would in some way help you; or perhaps..." Ruarc began to trail as his thoughts tried to makes sense of everything.

"The author mentioned Fonts in a way that implied their importance, so that is where I would place my bets," he continued, "I'd says he wanted you to understand the position of Fonts, and the role they play in these...rituals." He made a few vague gestures as he spoke, and after he finished he sat back down at the table, making sure to set the plate of food away from the tomes.

Percival narrowed his eyes, "What sort of role?"

Ruarc paused. Thinking back to what he had read, he weighed his options as he thought of what to tell his friend. The contents of the book were difficult enough to stomach when he was just an observer, but how could it affect someone who was explicitly tied into the plot of the text? What could telling the message do to Percy? "I should just not tell him," he thought as he had a mental debate. "But then nothing gets resolved, and that would be an injustice to Percy."

To mask the extended pause, the Irishman picked up a slice of bread and cheese, and proceeded to chew thoughtfully. With a subdued swallow, Ruarc brushed any possible crumbs off of his hands and onto the plate.

"Well, I'd need to read the book in its entirety, but from what I have gathered..." Ruarc began as he presented Percy with a subdued explaination of the book's explainations, and did his best to leave out the dark revelations about Percy and his curse.

"Spirits, I can only hope that he believes me," Ruarc thought as he finished his vanilla explaination before continuing it out into remark to his guest, "Let's hope reading further will provide me with a better idea of what's going on, but for now, that is likely the best I can do. Grasping at straws, after all."

"So then... It's just a runic grimiore." sighed Percival a little subdued at the moment, idly touching at his beret before offering another question. "Then what do the runes have to do with Fonts?"

"Well, as I mentioned, I'd have to read more into to get the whole picture, but a theory could be that the viceral nature of these runes might tie in to how Fonts experience magic," Ruarc offered his explaination, once again hoping that the lighter version would suffice for now.

The boy tapped his fingers on the table, they rolled over in a sequential pattern, causing the boy to look impatient. Perhaps he was seeking different answers. Despite the already disconcerting information, Percival had wanted to know if it meant anything to the message in his dream. Yet, a part of him was a little relieved that all it was, was a book of dark secrets. Sometimes it was better to learn that it was just a book of dark magics made for killing people, than dark magics made for killing oneself.

"Well, that alleviates a few worries, Ruarc." said Percival finally, gripping the small cup he had drank the coffee from. "Still, I can't use them, so as one risk-tasking scribe to another, make the most you can out of them. Maybe they'll help you find Caoranach and Laoise."

"Perhaps," Ruarc nodded in agreement, feeling guilty all the while. "I'll continue reading through the book to see if I can glean anything useful from its pages. And I'll be sure to keep you in the know if any further information comes up regarding Fonts, alright?" With that, the host tossed a bit of cheese into the air and caught it in his teeth before chewing thoughtfully once more.

"Thanks Ruarc," said Percival with a comforted smile, appearing even more relaxed, "you're a lot less of a weirdo than everyone makes you out to be."

"Ha, well, I appreciate that Percy. I have been trying to clear up any misunderstandings, so I am glad to hear that," Ruarc replied with a chuckle. "I s'pose we've never really had a chance to actually just talk, and all things considered I'm glad you stopped in. You and the others should drop in at some point, I'll make a great Irish feast. Fit for a king."

"I'll consider that," said Percival, offering friend from a neighboring isle a small thumbs up, "For now, though, I've got to make sure I'm not late for the train back, I'd hate to walk back in this cold weather."

At the mention, Ruarc craned his neck to look at the clock on the wall behind him. "Breathnú ar an am, it is gettin' a bit late, isn't it," he said as he found he had lost track of how long he had been reading. "I wouldn't want to keep you then. I'll see you to the gate." With that, Ruarc got up and made his way to the door, and with a creak of the hinges he got a feel for the cool air of the winter night.

"Careful you don't catch a cold on your way back, alright?"

The young welshman made his way to the door nodding his head to his Irish host before taking a deep breath into the cool evening. He stared quietly onto the gardens as the sun set over the horizon, before making his way to the gate.

"You know, Ruarc, you're a lot more reliable than they try to make you out to be," said Percival toddling down to the gate, and stopping, before pulling the latch and pushing it open. "You think I could ask you something?"

With a smiling facade, Ruarc laughed a bit at his friend's comment. "Wait, people try to say I am not reliable? I thought I was just the weird one," he joked when in the back of his mind he wasn't really laughing. "You aren't making my fib any easier to handle, mate," was what he was actually thinking. Percival just smiled awkwardly instead of lying, as if his nature restrained it.

"But yeah, you can ask, what do you need?" Ruarc continued as he pushed passed his own guilty feelings.

"Everyone: Duncan, Miyuki, Riley, and all the others. They're not as attuned with this world as you and I. We've an idea of the orders that govern us." explained Percival, his chest puffing a little bit as he brought on the official explanation, "The things we've stumbled on are more dangerous than we could've fathomed, or any of them could've dreamed. So... If anything happens to me," As he spoke, his head dipped a bit, before his resolute gaze met Ruarc's "I want you to promise me you'll look after them."

"I'll do everything I can manage," Ruarc said in an even tone as he put an hand on Percy's shoulder. "You lot're my friends now, so if I can, I'll protect the entire group. Yourself included...and maybe Duncan as well. Hell, why do you think I usually try to play the tank in our battles?"

"For the longest, I thought it was just because you were a podunk mage from the hills, with no proper Occultus-Certified education," answered Percy in a flat, resolute tone, with added spice of utter seriousness.

"Haha, no, I don't do it because I am Irish, or rural," Ruarc assured his counterpart, "Initially was by accident, but I ended up finding my niche in our ragtag group of magic-folk."

"Well, you handle the front line a lot better than I handle any line," said Percival weakly, holding out his hand, only to have it catch a small snow flurry. Small flakes, white and delicate, began falling from the sky. The young Welshman looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes, as downpour of snow came to meet them. He found this certain moment of divided attention to say something he'd rather not look at Ruarc while saying.

"As a man. Can I ask you a favor, an important one?"

"Of course ya can ask," Ruarc responded, and eyebrow arching as the tone shifted. "What do ya need?"

"I know I asked you to watch after everyone," Percival looked off towards the frosty trees which blocked off the view to other parts of town. The normally reserved boy was even more shy, twisting his foot on the ground, even though he had his chest puffed out, "But... If something really does happen... Um... Will you... ah..."

Percival cleared his throat, "Will you look after Miyuki?"

Ruarc's appearance became solemn as he decided to respect Percy's request. The lad's tone suggested just how important this was. "Yeah. No worries, Percy. I'll look after her should anything happen. Deal?" The Irishman then outstretched a hand, suggesting they shake on it.

When Percival turned, he looked as if someone had just pants him in the middle of a crowd. That resolute face, that burning red glow on his cheeks, and the way his mouth formed a perfectly flat line. Indeed, he was utterly serious, and as he took Ruarc's hand, which was bigger than his own, he gave a firm and slightly exaggerating shake.

"Deal."
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