Unforgotten Promise

---

The assumption, following Malos's first attack on Auresco, was that it was the adventuring party - the very same armed band of transgressors - who were sacrificing their precious time and patience, in the face of impending (yet quite lazily so) destruction, to help put the city and its assorted contingent of lost souls aright. These were the young people, drawn from both ends of Torna and from Mor Ardain and Gormott and Indol as well, who had best and strongest lock on what it would be to buck up and stand firm.

Well, it was Aquin and Gio, under Wayton's gruff instruction, who were building the pseudo-antiquated sci-fantasy equivalent of a bomb shelter. It was Charlet whose windows were making it a beautiful example of setpiece horror. It was Lyta and Kaeda who were making adventurers to pack into it.

But nevertheless, there were some older folks in Torna. When one sets about in their post-adolescence wondering where to move, one probably considers one's family, and those older folks therein constituent. Mauna and Ofa were doing, or had done, well for themselves, and Formide was blessed for it.

Mireille, however...

Her hobby hung abandoned, frail and thus unable to fetch her own materials as she was. A potter's hands do get knobbled, cracked, cramped and creased, as the oils from the clay change the texture of a human palm.

(A Blade potter...well, that might be something extraordinary!)

Her back hunched, her eyes squinted, her wrists trembling as she supplicated to them - but never to make demands! Only if it's easy. In her worn old boots, she shook.

They'd prodded Minoth forward, as the group shuffled near to pass Pischator and counted citizens here and there, here and there.

"Aren't you good with the ladies?" Lora had jibed, and Jin had pursed his lips in slight sympathy, but Addam had cheerfully agreed, and Minoth had stumbled up to the old woman, knees already a-juddering.

Before he could speak, Mireille's face lit up. From his steep angle, Minoth couldn't quite see her eyes, but the crinkles around them did just as well. "What luck, a group of youngsters!" she crowed.

(Distantly, Milton could be heard elbowing Mikhail, as was his wont, to complain that he just knew those who said as much never were talking about the two of them.)

"I was just looking for someone to run an errand for me."

"Dandy," said Minoth, but he didn't exactly sound it. "We were just looking for the same, inverted."

Mireille gave him a dubious look, and this one he caught despite all signs saying that he shouldn't have. She wouldn't get cross with him, somehow he knew, but it seemed maybe she wouldn't exactly take well to flattery. Not that it had been. Just trying to move the conversation along...

"I'm dying, you know," was her ultimate way of explanation. "The doctor says the end is near."

This doctor probably wasn't Mungo, and thus Minoth trusted his prognosis a stretch more (though, one wouldn't be out of place in assuming that all old men in Torna were senile, excepting the fact that no one could ever imagine Khanoro sprawling out that way), but as someone whose end threatened by way of being unknowable, he felt a little dubious himself.

It was at this point, too, that Minoth began to take note of how quiet everyone behind him was being. Probably, they'd started that way to mess with him, but now it really all had turned Pyrus Pome-shaped (and those were still growing, through the late spring and early summer, so this predicament might also continue).

He wouldn't argue with her, though.

"Enjoying the view here, then?"

In the pond, there were lotuses of white, yellow, and shades of pink deepening to red. Mireille turned to verify if there was, indeed, such a view, and when she did so Minoth also moved to rest forearms on the fence (he could reach them, by leaning; she could not).

No one spoke, for a moment, but then Minoth felt keen eyes on the side of his face. Thankfully, it was the unscarred side.

"I've disturbed you, haven't I?"

"I'm a naturally disturbed person," he cracked. "Been that way for, oh, two, four years."

"Two, four years," Mireille repeated in thrown-haughty tone. "That's hardly anything."

Minoth didn't answer.

(Still, he felt the eyes on his back from behind, but if his guess was correct, Lora had turned to one side to occupy Jin in conversation whether verbal or via the eyes, and the rest had done the same, to give young and old some privacy.)

"Oh, don't be sad. At my age, death is a peaceful prospect."

"I can agree with that," said Minoth. And he could! Death was a peaceful prospect at just about any age past-- Well, no. One didn't only need to bar illness in childhood. Any sudden death was certainly not peaceful. Death was a community effect, after all, following life's community effort.

Mireille worked her hands against each other, coercing light cracks from the bent wrists. "I've seen so many of my friends turn off already...now, it's my turn."

"That's all there is to it."

"Exactly right. That's all there is to it."

They straightened, each as much as possible, and turned back away from the pond. Sure enough, the rest of the group had spaced outward, slightly, and pretended to be blithely surprised by the new development.

Mireille nodded, swallowed, coughed a trice.

"All souls will be saved in the end. That's what the teachings of the Praetor say, and that's what I believe."

Haze stared blankly at her, horrifiedly mounting up possibilities of what they could possibly have been talking about, with view to the lotus pond. Death and transfiguration, in their fair city?

To dissolve the tension as best as he could, Minoth said softly, "Just not every day you expect to walk up to someone and hear them give you their own death knell."

Perhaps his instinct had been to reframe Mireille as wry, especially given her scoffing treatment of his light self-recrimination. A self-aware old broad, tough as any, whose big hat hid no soft head.

But that wasn't Mireille. She was entirely genuine. No remark would follow about "naturally disturbed" meeting "naturally disturbing" on a street corner as if bound by fate.

"...erm, where was I?"

And the quest moved on.

"Ah, yes. My one regret is a promise I once made to a friend that I haven't kept."

The wildly obsessive-compulsive Minoth's temples gave a cycle at that. One regret, over seventy-odd years of life? Just one?

(What he wouldn't give.)

"I promised to make a vase, but I don't have the materials for it. Would you know where to find them for me?"

Minoth shot Addam a glance, and indeed, the prince was looking on interestedly at this close intersection with his own stripe of hobbies. His Astronomer's Pot was a sight to be seen - Gormott's Planetary Crystal being a particular favorite of his.

"Absolutely, we could get them for you! What do you need?"

A lightly shaking hand emerged to give the vague idea of ticking items. "If I can recall correctly, and without overestimating too much for waste, it should be two sprigs of Spiral Mistletoe, four chunks of Silverwing Quartz, and four spades of Eternity Loam."

"That's it?" asked Addam. His replica artifacts, of course, were usually just a touch more needlessly complicated, not to say overengineered.

"That's it!" replied Mireille. "If you happen to find some on your travels and feel like sharing, I'd be most grateful."

"We'll get them for you, Mireille," Minoth assured her.

"Well, I didn't mean for you to go out of your way!"

Now it was Lora pursing her lips and giving the guys a side-eye. "It's no trouble, Mireille. I'll make sure of it."

The old woman nodded, nodded, nodded...and put up a final finger just as they turned to go.

"Oh, about that Eternity Loam." They hadn't worked with it before, so additional details did no harm. "I seem to remember that you could harvest it in the Loftin Nature Preserve."

"Makes enough sense to me," Hugo said.

"Well..." Mireille paused, summoning her specific point. "These days it's very valuable, so I feel like maybe there isn't so much of it left. Another reason I regret not making up the vase sooner. Still, it may be worth a look..."

"Of course it is," Lora said, ignoring the fact that Mireille was now, contrary to just earlier, suggesting that they go out of their way. "No need," Mireille said, and in theory they knew she meant it, but in practice...well, it made one laugh, just a touch, didn't it?

Mireille nodded. "I'd be so grateful for any help you can offer." She chuckled. "I reckon my friend's forgotten all about this..."

Wisely, their group didn't comment.

"But a promise is a promise, and I want to keep it."

"A worthy cause," said Brighid. "We'll help you however we can."

Before further equivocations could be flung, they stepped a distance away (in the great undulating mass that nine people flocked together made) and began to pool ideas. Yes, they didn't have any of the requested materials on hand, but does it even bear repeating at this point that nothing could stop such a party from getting them?

"I remember seeing a lode of Silverwing Quartz in Dannagh Desert, just to one side of the campsite near the Braying Canyon," Jin offered. His word was certainly as good as any, on minerals and ores, so Addam jotted that down alongside all the other itinerary items of note.

Haze, meanwhile, put a finger to her lips in thought about the vegetation requested. "I'm not sure, but I think we should be able to find Spiral Mistletoe in the nature preserve as well, near where we'll have to look for the Eternity Loam."

"Anywhere else?" asked Mythra, who was patently uninterested in such a quest but always patently interested in efficiency (where it benefitted her, and otherwise...well).

"I'm not sure," Haze said, and Mythra rolled her eyes at the repetition in a private annoyance only Minoth could catch. He was sure she'd done that much on purpose, and it showed care. A little bit of it, anyway.

Late the next day, when they returned laden with materials for a handful of requests including Mireille's, the petite potter's face practically glowed beneath both wrinkles and cloche.

Once again, Minoth hardly had time to greet her: "Oh, you've found the materials for me! How terribly kind of you."

"You haven't even counted them," he pointed out. And, while the Eternity Loam did sparkle a deepest emerald green, he did doubt that her aged eyesight could pick it out from regular dirt at a distance. Why did she assume they, too, had beeen able to?

(But of course, Jin had.)

The wryness showed itself, just a peek, when Mireille answered, "Well, if you've misjudged, it'll just have to be a small vase. It doesn't really matter, you know. Just that I can finally fulfill that old promise, now."

"Will you be okay?" Lora prompted, ever the humanist realist. "Is there anything else we can help with?"

Mireille waved a spotted hand in front of her face; it was curled just as much in rheumatism as it was in gesture. "No, no, young lady, I'm quite alright. Thank you for asking."

That she hadn't keeled over while they'd been gone would have to be proof enough, one supposed. The old woman muttered to herself, "I could never face him again if I broke that promise... What would he think of me?"

Curious, Addam cut in. "I don't mean to pry, but who is 'he'?" Had to be someone just as aged, right?

Had to be. "He was my husband..." came the impossibly simple reply, "...though I haven't seen him in decades."

"Your husband?!"

They were all shocked, not least the ever-emotionally available prince (who'd just such a secret of his own, speaking of tales for other times).

But Mireille merely nodded.

"One day, years ago, he came home saying he was taking over the family inn, and wouldn't I like to help out there? But I'd just become a potter, you see, and that was all I wanted to do, all I'd ever wanted to do."

She looked up at Addam appraisingly. "So I sent him packing. Told him maybe one day, when I'd created my finest work, I might come back to him."

It'd be hard to forget a promise like that, wouldn't it?

"And that was that? He hasn't tried to find you since then?"

Of course to Lora the thought was unthinkable, and rightfully so. Even decades couldn't have put this frail creature back to the time of a juvenile, fledgling relationship, one where leaving this erstwhile husband of hers wouldn't have carried any real weight in her heart. And, Mireille considered the question judiciously, like she'd asked it of herself many a time.

"Well, maybe he knew that wasn't the whole story...that the thing about my finest work was just an excuse. The truth is, I didn't hate the idea of working at the inn. I just hated that he took it for granted that I would do it. He didn't consider my work important, and that hurt most of all because I loved him. I truly did."

It was a sobering thought. What love wouldn't save people from... "I see..." Minoth put in, rather uselessly.

Mireille waved the guiding hand over her face once more, this time in an attempt to freshen and straighten up. "But look at me, rambling on at you. It's been a while since I talked about that... When I finish this vase, will you take it to him? Say, 'Here it is! Mireille's finest work!'"

"I'm afraid we'll have to decline that request."

"Huh?" Lora turned her face up at the Flesh Eater in a rush, her whole body contorting to follow her consternation. "What are you on about, Minoth?"

He crossed his arms, already tired of the contention. "You made the promise. You should deliver the vase yourself."

Of course, Mireille had from the first been quite small in comparison to Minoth, and Jin and Addam and Aegaeon besides, but now, she looked positively diminuitive.

"You want me to...? After all these years?"

Mr. "two, four" Minoth was undeterred by her plaintive excuse. Even, he was spurred by it.

"It doesn't matter how many years it's been. You're here now, aren't you? There's still time for you to make good on your promise. Do it now, before it really is too late."

Sound enough logic, but coming from the person they all would have most expected to harbor a grudge? Addam turned the words over in his mind. Ah, he thought, he's still upset about the Quaestor... Never respecting his work, or even his base individual autonomy. Being embittered was the very smallest effect one could have expected to observe from the aftermath of that relationship.

Meanwhile, Minoth was booming on from his imposing height. "Lora and Addam are two of the most kind-hearted fools you ever met. So of course they want to help you. They'd do everything in their power to help. And you would just sit back and let them."

A far cry from the tender conversation they'd had at the rail. He was beginning to look down his nose at the poor woman, and Lora had half a mind to kick his wayward knee straight herself.

Once again, Mireille considered their words, and once again, it appeared she wasn't really all that taken aback. One thing about her - when it didn't concern her long-lost husband, she could stray feisty.

With another chuckle, she replied, "Very well. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get some exercise. Would you give me a few minutes? I need to gather my things."

She shuffled off, and they were left huddled around no target in particular. Lora gave Addam a look, and Addam reluctantly peered at Minoth, and Minoth squinted at him, and Addam looked back at Lora, and Lora gave Minoth her meanest gaze, and then he finally dropped the arms to his sides and tried to look personable.

Soon enough, Mireille came back, a pitifully small parcel that most definitely was not her finest work at her side. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Let's go and find my husband."

"Are you sure you'll be alright walking all that way?" Haze asked. And all what way, anyway? They had no idea, but it must be to somewhere distant, surely. Outside of Auresco, anyway.

"Oh, not to worry." Mireille picked absentmindedly at the knot on her pack. "He should be at the inn at Hyber, so it isn't all that far. I'll be fine with you youngsters to help me."

(Assuming herself an escort, was it?)

"Wait a minute," said Lora, catching onto a thought. "Hyber? Does that mean your husband is...?!"

Teo? Crazy old Teo was the one to bluntly overlook his wife's greatest passion and discard the precious work towards her dream? Well, he must have changed in all those years too...

(See, see? The senility!)

Mireille didn't just chuckle now, but full-out laughed. "Indeed! I haven't been back since the day we split up. You may be witness to a bit of a scene, but I hope you'll stick by me."

Well, they'd stuck by her through all the scenes thus far, hadn't they?

And with that, they were off - the next morning, that is. The ever-faithful Carnelian and Chalcedony saw them out of the capital gates, yet another cheering reminder of the bonds they were working to restore in the community.

A processional guard of nine warriors plus two tween escorts made crossing the desert no problem, especially since they had dispatched with the Gogols overrunning Peln Spring - now just who was it that said that Nopon businesspeople couldn't effect positive change?

The only hurdle was Mireille's occasional stray step into a deceptively deep spot of sand, and Minoth helped her out of those with a hand at her elbow, pulling up on her arm, as needed.

When they got to Hyber, the town was duskily silent as usual, with nary an inhabitant save some restless traveling shopkeepers in sight. Even the thrill-hungry Martha had gone to bed.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

Lora, Addam, and Minoth had accompanied Mireille into the inn, though small as it was there wasn't much segregation between the party within and the party without. Minoth thought to himself that it would be an interesting concept for a theater, with music piped in from outside on the street. Certainly, it'd be a great draw.

But, no matter. Beds and dressers of varying sizes, along with a low, round table were the setpieces, in here, as they had been on the group's last visit, though Minoth hadn't spent much time inside.

"How very odd," Addam remarked. "The inn's open but no one's around."

"I hope nothing's happened to him," the old woman said quietly.

"Wait here, miss," Lora directed her. "We'll have a look around."

Mireille reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the decaying floorboards to look up at Lora. "I'm not sure if it means anything, but I spotted some footprints out front. Maybe they lead somewhere?"

Indeed, what else would obvious fresh footprints in a sleepy little village like this mean?

"You've got a sharp pairs of eyes there, missus!" Minoth said encouragingly. It was easy to encourage with throwaway sentiments like that, knowing the worst he'd get was a teasing from Lora.

Whether she was aware of this secret logic or not, the addressed "missus" gave a soft chuckle.

"I suppose I may have. I was just so nervous about seeing my husband again that I had my eyes fixed on the ground..."

Minoth certainly knew the feeling.

"I just don't know how I'll feel when I see him, or how I should behave...it feels like being a young woman again! Even though I know we can't turn back time..."

Here in the empty inn, she was so consistently pensive, even for the aged slip of a thing that she was. What had happened to the simple, unquestioning bethrothal to the Prateor's teachings?

Minoth waffled, for a moment, on staying with the troubled Mireille, but ultimately went with the rest of the party to search for her husband.

Together, Haze's careful eye and Mythra's hawklike focus traced the prints to a cliff overlooking the Titan's ribs above Wrackham Moor. There Teo lay, sprawled prone in the grass, making faint wheezing sounds.

"Hey there! Are you alright?"

Teo only coughed in answer to Lora's query, then in between hacks got out a "Can't...breathe..."

"Let me see him," Haze said, all business and ready to bring her worth to bear. The Wind Blade moved gentle fingers over the innkeeper's chest, feeling for any outward, if hidden, signs of injury and listening to his breathing. "His breath sounds all wrong. There might be something blocking his windpipe."

"What should we do?" Lora asked, worried hand laid to breast. "What if he's having some kind of seizure?"

"Shall I fetch a doctor?" Aegaeon spoke up for the first time.

Hugo stopped short of elbowing his staunch, awkward Blade, because yes, Aegaeon, of course we have time to run all the way down to the miltia garrison and drag Mungo all the way back up. Instead, he answered, "No, it's no use. You'd never make it in time!"

"We'll have to perform first aid ourselves," Jin confirmed. "Haze, what do we need?"

Keeping to her initial diagnosis, she was swiftly ready with the answer. "Ideally, something to soothe his throat. We need to help him breathe easier."

Brighid cast an expert gaze at their surroundings, spotting a patch of Glossy Chamomile nearby. "In my experience, nature makes a fine ally," she quipped congenially as she meticulously plucked and cleaned the stems. She quickly rubbed the petals into a paste and offered it to Teo along with a fresh canteen of water, proffered by Aegaeon.

Teo drank eagerly and wiped his mouth without a trace of professional comportment. "Phew! I really thought the grim reaper was coming for me this time."

(Interesting that he thought death something to strive away from, while his wife considered it an inevitable passing that wasn't so bad, after all.)

He proved his tenacity a second time over by heaving to his feet.

"Whoa, there. Are you okay standing up?"

Jin concurred with his Driver, adding, "You should probably take it easy, old man."

Teo was none daunted, though. "Oh, don't worry about me! I feel much better now, thanks to you. I have these funny turns sometimes. But I just need a little rest and I'm right as rain!"

"You should absolutely get some rest," Minoth cautioned. "But you should know you have a visitor."

"A visitor? You mean a guest at the inn? Oh, blast! That means they've been waiting all this time. I have to hurry back!"

And, hurry back he did, positively scampering up the path to make their circuitous journey of half an hour in fifteen minutes.

"Hey! You can't go running off on your own again!" Lora called after him.

She took off as well, and Jin groaned. "Lora! Lora!!" At no response, he resigned himself to a beleaguered chase as he'd done so many times in years past. "Ugh, let's go. Aegaeon, come with me. We might need you."

"Of course," said the Water Blade, happy to be of service.

Haze was left standing awkwardly next to Brighid and Mythra, the latter of whom commented, "You really wouldn't think he was lying helpless on the ground two seconds ago!"

"He's young in spirit," Brighid answered her. "Not a bad thing at all."

"It is a bit worrying though, isn't it?" Haze wondered.

"Well, we came here to help, so we'll just have to do that," Addam said, perfectly sensibly.

From behind him, Minoth intoned, "In more ways than one..." He wasn't even looking at the rest of them, instead concentrating on the center of the trail where Teo's boots had struck.

When they caught up to Teo, he was just taking in the contents of the front steps of the inn (breathing heavily, indeed, but not wheezing).

"Hold on...it can't be... Mireille, is that you?"

She was smiling wanly, as ever. "It's been too long, Teo. You look older...as do I."

Teo put a hand behind his head and stretched, like he was remembering an old habit.

"Well, I never. Well, I never! What's the occasion? Have you finished your best work? I've been waiting to see that."

"You've been waiting? Even though I didn't write to you even once?" Mireille clasped her hands in faux shock. "You've never been waiting all this time. Heh heh! I know when you're pulling my leg."

"Ho ho," Teo replied, and like a matched set they were. "You've not changed either. You still laugh when you're embarrassed. Let's go inside and talk."

When he ushered her through the honorary suggestion of a doorway, it was less with the flair of a host and more with the tepid care of an old friend, long been away. Those who followed inside waited a minute or two before making their entrance, and upon entering, they heard:

"Hmph. So you're ill. And you still came all the way to see me?"

"It's all thanks to these youngsters," Mireille said, gesturing to Lora and Jin, Addam and Minoth, who nearly filled out the cramped room - sized, it seemed, just for Mireille. "You're not dead yet, so why not do what you can while you're alive? That's what they said to me."

Minoth gave a huff of his own and crossed his arms yet again. "I think I chose my words a little more carefully."

"Did you really? I couldn't tell..." Jin remarked, voicing Lora's thought for her. The Flesh Eater's head swiveled swift as anything to give the Ice Blade a look that he must have missed out on in the previous day's scintillating exchange, his ponytail whipping dangerously as he did so.

"Everyone, I'd like to extend my heartfelt thanks to you all."

Minoth finally turned his gaze back to real present company, and uncrossed his arms.

"When you get as old as we are, you get so tangled up in obligations, it feels as if you can't move anymore. You get used to glossing over difficult things, or giving up entirely. But that did no good at all...for either of us."

Mireille was hunched on a stool next to a low table, but still offered her agreement with her husband. "It's true. We were both too wrapped up in our own lives..."

He turned around to face her. "How about it, Mireille? Why don't you stay here tonight? We have years and years of stories to swap. And I want your expert opinion on how to display your vase."

"Teo...are you sure?"

Addam, apparently, did intend to make preservation of his princely dignity, and had turned toward the beampost in the corner of the room at which to perform furious blinks and sniffles.

"Damn it. I've got something in my eye..."

"Shall we leave these two alone?" Lora asked, a twinkle in her own eye as she stepped round to see Addam's ridiculous face. Then, she, Jin, and Addam all filed out, and Minoth was about to follow when the old lady stopped him.

"Wait!"

He turned back and waited for her to cross the faded rug.

"Something's been nagging at me this whole time...haven't I seen you before in Indol?"

Minoth's flinch was definite, but it was only mental.

"I have! I'm sure I have! With someone called...Quaestor Amalthus? He helped me when I slipped on some stairs! Weren't you his attendant? He was so kind. How is he?"

The grimace came out now, and Mireille's face softened just a touch more.

"Don't worry. Whatever their past deeds, all souls will attain salvation. I believe that with all my heart."

Recall that initial assumption: that it was the adventurers, both Tornan and not, who were helping the citizens of Torna (the community members, and not all of them Tornan, necessarily, but it mattered little). Recall that it was supposed to be they who were still standing firm, though Malos had wrecked the town. Recall that Minoth is supposed to be a savior, in this instance, and not a victim.

But when Mireille slipped, Amalthus had quickly stepped in front of Minoth and made to help her himself. There would have been no harm done, if it had been Minoth who had helped her. Truth was, though, Minoth probably wouldn't have. He'd have been too afraid to.

Who knew what the Quaestor's true opinion on which unfortunate souls should and shouldn't be helped could possibly be? Who knew what silent rules would change, if Minoth acted out of his narrow lane? Who knew what judgements were to be made for a Blade who acted without his Driver's express permission, within the holy walls of the Praetorium? Who knew how much longer Minoth could survive just acting out the same limited days, waiting and hoping and praying for things to change?

(They had changed, eventually. There could have been worse outcomes, for sure. But when you don't know, and you can only postulate...)

Amalthus had made him afraid, even then. And Mireille had thought him kind.

"Here, take this." Mireille rummaged in a pocket of her smock and pulled out a small brown lump of...something. Minoth's face relaxed a little bit, and he looked her in the eyes once more.

"What is it?"

"It's only a little thing," she replied mildly, not to say sheepishly. "I made it once to ward off evil and invite happiness. I don't need it anymore now."

There was silence as his large gloved hand passed over her small, frail one and tucked the clay bell into a pocket just behind his belt on his left hip.

"May your path be blessed from this day on."