Ashrah

He snorted at the comment about floor nine's warmth and shook his head. "I'd prefer getting a tan to being cooked alive," he joked lightly. "But at least we'd be getting out of the freezer, yeah?"

They walked along and got several strange looks, but Arc didn't seem to mind. It was obvious to anyone that the floor was cold, and extreme temperature could still effect the hypothalamus and cause shock, especially since the NerveGear was hard wired into sensory receptors. Anyone who hadn't figured that out, well... "Made it," he commented offhand as they strode into the safe zone once more.

When she said that she'd be getting back, and that she'd message him to let her know she was okay, Tobias smiled. "That sounds great," he replied evenly. "I'll be waiting up for it." He placed both hands on his hips and took a deep breath. "Thanks for inviting me," he added. "And I'll see you again soon, ma'am." He was careful not to use her real name in front of strangers. That was a secret between friends, in his opinion.

Did I just... get a date... with the girl I like? His body felt odd as the realization sank in deeper than before. Holy crap. I'm gonna faint.

He felt like air.

That was the best, most accurate way to describe the lightness of his body as she spoke words he could never have anticipated. It was as though his flesh had faded and his spirit were roaming free through the air around them, immune to hot and cold and everything else. In his life, never had a woman insinuated she wanted anything to do with him, and the thought of someone reciprocating his feelings to any degree overwhelmed the young man with emotions he had never known existed within him.

The winter wind blasted his face and blew the hood from his head. His hair whipped about, and his eyes watched hers with tears threatening to spill from them. For all his thought of attempting to stay strong, he wavered in the face of her admission. That not only did she feel... something, whatever it was... but she was... wanted...

"...for a thing?" he asked in the quietest of voices, not saying the word 'date' so that she wouldn't feel the weight of the world falling on her shoulders. "I think we can manage that."

The tears streamed down his face at odds with his newly reforged tenacity. He tugged at her hand and led her down the path toward town. "But enough of that," he cleared his throat, not wanting things to get any more awkward for her. The truth was, neither of them was very fluent with their feelings, and meeting up later would be a good thing. They could sort through things and come at it with clearer heads. 

And more importantly, Ava wouldn't freeze to death in the process. "I can't have you freezing out here any longer. Stay close to me until we get back, Miss Ava. You're already so cold." It wasn't even a matter of romantic action anymore. Tobias held the girl to his chest and wrapped her in his cloak to preserve what little warmth she still had with his own. 

"Next time," he said, "warmer floor. Definitely a warmer floor."

"Slow down," Arc implored the quest giver as he huffed and puffed, clearly out of breath. "We can't help you if we don't know what's going on. Explain the situation, if possible, and leave nothing out." The Mercenary exchanged glances with Beatbox for a moment before the NPC finally caught his breath and began to speak.

"My father came down into the darkness to find my mother," he told them, "but what he found was something else entirely. I'm not even sure of the details myself, but I learned that he was locked away by someone." Arc questioned him with a look, but the man continued. "I don't know how any of this happened, or why. It's pure chaos, and I cannot pass into Tartarus due to a strange incantation. The spell repelled all of my efforts."

Spell? There's no magic inside Sword Art Online. This is...

"Beat," Arc called over his shoulder, "he's talking about a barrier that only lets players through. Aincrad is definitely creating this quest specifically for us."

The NPC stared at Arc for a moment and struggled for understanding. "Will you help me?" he asked. "Please, you must..."

"What do you think?" Arc waited for the other player before giving an answer.

He was about to speak again when Domarus began to talk. The idea of impermanence was vital for a reason other than what the man specified, but it had triggered a very interesting response indeed. It reminded him of Keynes and the General Theory of Economics that so many great nations subscribed to. "You only live once," "the next generation's problems aren't my problem"- it was terrifying that someone could openly admit they believed such a thing, yet so utterly common that it was hardly surprising. It was with those words that Arc fully comprehended what sort of game that the man was playing. He didn't need to reveal that fact, of course. Let the man speak, understand what he wants. See where he tries to push you.

To Tobias, Impermanence was what made life so utterly priceless. The idea that you only have one life was what made it precious and worthy of protecting. The world be damned, certainly, but the people in it were worth saving. Arc had no intention of doing what he wanted until he could assure that everyone else could do the same. Domarus seemed to be the type to exploit such freedoms to gain his own satisfaction.

In its own way, that was fine. The problem was doing so when it interfered with the freedom of other beings. Emerald eyes watched the man as he continued. Domarus settled on the opinion that Arc did not care, and that was fine; and in fact, it was exactly what Arc wanted this man to believe. "Mmmm," the mercenary replied tacitly. "Those who don't care indeed."

What an interesting man.

He stared right back at her as she asked the question he had never expected from her. Though their initial conversations had been riddled with misunderstanding on that front, he assumed that she'd shut him down entirely on it. To even approach the topic meant she most likely had not even considered it, and that made his eyes widen in surprise. "I... yeah, I mean, I thought you knew that," he replied, "what I mean is, I thought you didn't like me that way, so I just decided not to even think about it. I was content with having a friend."

He broke his eyes away as he explained with a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "So I thought telling you like this might upset you, or something... but I felt like it was important you knew. It didn't start out like that- I genuinely enjoyed having you around, and I wanted to help you any way I could because it's the right thing to do, and because you're my friend."

The mercenary reached up and tostled his hair anxiously. "But gradually, while we were working together and I kept getting to know you better- well..."

He stiffened for a moment, his whole body hot suddenly. "-that is to say, I really hope you're not mad at me, but I do like you, Ava."

"As long as that's who you want to be," he replied, never breaking eye contact until she did so herself. He didn't give it to everyone, and not so often as normal people did, but when he did it was expressive. "But don't let it get in the way of being you. I don't mind staying the way I am if you don't mind doing the same."

He rose slowly and dusted himself off, frigid from the fallen snow. Thankfully, the Survival skill did a fantastic job of mitigating this environmental harshness, so he was considerably less adversely effected than a player without it would be.

He took a step back as he moved, and he kept his grip on her hand. "Up ya go," he said with a grin as he prompted the girl to rise with his assistance. 

His gaze moved away finally, to where the rest of the floor existed outside of their microcosm. He knew he needed to get her to the village where it was warm. "Hey I," he started to speak without looking back at her, then realized that his words were meant for her face. His eyes trailed back and he smiled sadly. "I know it ain't much from a merc like me who isn't really a huge catch," he kept rattling himself over those words, "you're an awesome guy, Arc", "but I really care about you, Miss Ava. I hope that doesn't complicate things too much."

He hugged her tightly as she spoke, and his expression turned sadder as she twisted the proverbial dagger. Idiot was a fine word to describe his actions, though Tobias was fine with being an idiot. It was far and away better than being a heartless monster. As she lost her wits against his chest, the young man could not help but to cradle her head. It was a bittersweet sentiment, but one he cherished. No one had ever cared so utterly deeply for his wellbeing. 

She pulled away to look up into his eyes, and he met her gaze once more.  To be more careful was one thing, and he could give her his word on that. Her other request, though... "I'll make that promise only if you promise never to get into a situation like that," he scolded her gently. "Something being beyond my control doesn't make inaction right. And I would much rather die than lose you."

The mercenary heaved a defeated sigh as the admission left his lips. "I'll protect anyone I can," he told her, "and everyone if I can, but not at the cost of your life, Miss Ava. You are precious to me." He leaned his forehead against her own, his eyes shut. "This world, without you in it, would be even more hollow for me. I can't let a friend go that way."

He shook his head gently. "There's no breaking even on kindness. You don't get to not help one person and make up for it by helping another." His eyes opened after a moment. "And even if it weren't my fault," he crooned, "my heart would still have suffered an unimaginable loss."

In that instant, he was utterly vulnerable. The emotion in his wavering eyes was raw, and his cheeks burned from the cold. He kept tears from falling because he had to be strong- for her.  Both of them as a sputtering mess in the cold just wouldn't do.

"So please..." he reached for her face and a finger brushed across her lips. "Ava," Tobias said her name with a powerful affection attached to it. "Please don't think that way. It grieves me deeply."

You asked me not to stop being a wonderful person... but please, don't you ever stop being so damn beautiful, inside and out."

He watched the creature transform into droplets of data that rained downward indiscernable from the snow. All the while, that girl who he'd protected had become so strong that she now fought alongside him. And it was her strength that won them the day. 

He listened to her concern with pangs of sadness in his chest. Do I... really worry her so? Her words struck him, though not unkindly. She told him that he didn't need to act boldly, that something could have gone wrong or worse. He watched her eyes with a gaze that told her he was listening, that her words were being heard. 

Then suddenly, she collapsed. Arc watched her fall with a heavy heart, one that broke when she said that she wouldn't forgive herself if he died on her account. A warm tear spilled from her, and he dropped to a single knee in front of her. 

Tobias reached up with both hands, and he placed them on either of her cheeks. He held her gaze level with his own, no amount of fear or timidity in his mannerism. For the first time, there was no need for any of that. This was something that demanded maturity of him.

His thumb wiped away the streak of saltwater from her face as his expression softened, and he held her there for what felt like ages. He just wanted to look in those eyes, and to know that they saw him. "I'm right here," he whispered. The snowstorm raged overhead, but his words were close enough to her for the woman to hear him anyway. "I'm right here," he repeated.

The dark thoughts that plagued the woman were the same hellish things that he had experienced when Alkor died. He knew the depths of that despair better than he wanted to admit. But he was here, and she had him. He wouldn't let her shed tears as though it were his dying day. "I'm sorry, Ava," he apologized. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about my actions."

He ran a hand through her hair and stroked it gently to offer her comfort. "You've got nothing to forgive yourself for," he told her, "but I hope you can forgive me for being inconsiderate." The green eyed man wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. 

His eyes closed. "Hey," he said. "Miss Ava, thank you for caring."

The mercenary swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thanks..."

"What made you want to learn the spear?" As Arc continued to practice straight, sturdy thrusts, the young man teaching him asked a question that caused him to fumble the weapon a bit. His eyes moved to Setanta, who in turn chuckled. "It's not often someone outright asks to try a weapon they are unused to. I wanted to understand what prompted you to do it."

Arc thrust again, and this time his eyes focused straight forward as he imagined one of the myriad creatures he had brought down during his travels through Aincrad. "I've fought a great many battles," he answered, "and I've thought that through them, the weapon I've wielded didn't resonate with my spirit. Initially, I chose to wield a two handed sword because it channeled the anger I was born with," Arc felt his skin chill at the overt admission, "but I also did it because my best friend and I had always played with sticks and pretended to be knights as kids."

Setanta laughed. "Yeah, I think it's pretty funny too," Arc admitted. The other boy broke into a Cheshire grin.

"Very good," the spearman acknowledged. "Pure. Genuine. Worthy."

"Mmmm, I wonder," Arc pondered as he glanced into his liquor. The liquid shivered as he swirled it slowly. "All systems are fragile, and so, they are all equally flammable. I find that it's best not to invest too much faith or consideration into them to begin with." The mercenary promptly overturned his drink on the counter, and it spilled over the wood. "People with expectations are most often disappointed, or at best, surprised. I prefer to have neither reaction if it can be helped." Arc placed the glass face down in the puddle of rum, like a castle in the center of a great moat.

"The world is going to fall apart regardless of any effort to the contrary. It was designed that way, with the prime directive given to its slaves to escape. Any attempt to exist outside the parameters given to us at the very beginning, any attempt to persist beyond the utmost necessary- I would call that futile, wouldn't you?" He glanced to Domarus, smirked, and held out a fist. It wavered over the glass for an instant.

He slammed his hand down, and the container shattered. There was a gasp from the collected crowd nearby as they glanced in his direction, but Arc paid them no mind. "Chaos is the nature of our world. Aincrad was created from that chaos. Any attempt to build or establish order breaks down because we as a species innately long for the freedom that is chaos. I would assert quite happily that a man who lives his life shackled by a belief in order is a man who will never truly be satisfied."

Tobias wouldn't call himself Epicurean in any sense of the word, but he was a firm believer that people who longed for inherent meaning and justification in all things would be denied that. Life, the world, et al- it existed. That was enough for the merc. "You say that things can endure," Arc replied, "I answer you with impermanence."

The tattered ruins of a glass on the table echoed his sentiments ominously.

"Tartarus." Arc repeated the word with the proper amount of Greek inflection. "In the old Mythology, Hades controlled the underworld. Through the depths, five major rivers were said to flow- Styx, the river of hatred and Acheron, the river of pain..." he made a gesture with his hand like spinning in a circle. "Lethe, the river of forgiveness, and the Phlegethon, river of fire. Then you have the Cocytus, river of wailing..." he sounded almost bored as he gave an apt description of what the floor might look like, but for a light source. "All of it is attributed to different things the Greek people believed were associated with death and dying. Plato wrote that the Phlegethon flowed toward the darkest depths of that world- sort of parallel to the Christian Hell. Dante depicted in Inferno how the coldest, lowest, most lonely layer of hell was reserved for the worst sinners, ones who were marked traitor. Cain who slew Abel, and before him, Lucifer who spurned God."

Arc pointed out into the blackness. "If it's even possible to get darker than this, I imagine it would be in Tartaros. In the Greek mythos, that was where the Titans were cast to never be free again." He spared a glance toward Beatbox. "That's where we're headed. Makes it sound super appealing, right?"

His lips stretched into a flat line as the man said he was ready, and Arc shrugged. "No reason to be afraid of things like this," he said. "After all, there are people doing things considerably harder on the Frontlines. Right?" He recalled the information dealer mentioning something about the NPC seeming to be more Japanese than European, which made him wonder about several things. "If this is a blend of cultures, we could be dealing with several different stylized threats," the mercenary mused. "I only remember offhand one Japanese myth regarding the underworld, but it seems out of character for a patterned Greek hell."

Ah well. No use in overthinking it.

As if on demand, an NPC emerged from the darkness. His face was a mask of stoicism, but his shoulders sagged in defeat. "My father," the man said, "he has been interned within Tartaros..."

Well, that solves the riddle of the missing NPC...

"Wh-what-" he heard her outcry coupled with vehement footfalls in the snow, and Tobias instantly knew the woman's advance was not intended as an attack. His gaze ripped away from the beast and his entire form jerked to search for the woman before she could get too close. His mouth moved to warn her away, but it was far too late for that. Ava was already in full tilt, her efforts to save his life valiant, noble, but decidedly dangerous. Oh my god.

His heart skipped a beat when the woman narrowly escaped the first of the boss' monumentally damaging blows. Her movements flowed like water downstream, seamless and natural. He found himself entranced by the movements, terrified for her life all the while. Her beauty was something he never expected- a noble grace tempered with kindness that touched his heart. 

Gone was the timid girl from the first day they met, almost afraid to ask for help. In her place, this duelist with fiery blue eyes and an indomitable will stood at odds with a mismatched opponent. Never once did she falter.

Well... until she did. "Ava!" His jade eyes widened, dilated, and trembled. Arc continued to pull at his weapon, still deeply ingrained in the creature's hide; as he watched in horror and time moved at a crawl, the girl stumbled backward and landed in the snow. She had managed what she intended, though. The creature was interested in her far more than Arc for that brief instant. It sought to turn her to dust.

With a massive effort, Tobias freed his blade. His body shook violently from the motion, and his feet acted of their own accord. He vaulted off the creature with a system assisted jump, his agility skill on rare display. Tobias moved without a need for thought, the innate compulsion to defend this woman paramount.

The blow intended for Ava exploded in a jetstream of opaque frost. Droves of snow ripped around in all directions, a wild dance of winter both wonderful and wicked. It never found the woman.

Tobias stood, quaking beneath the force of the attack. His sword bore the entire weight of the boss and more, but he gave up no ground. He turned his head a fraction of an inch, and his soft expression fell upon her. "You almost scared the life out of me again, Miss Ava," he informed her affectionately. "Warn me before you do things like that." 

His head slowly returned to the beast before them. "It's not just about protecting people," he said as he regarded the creature with a vigilant gaze. "And not just because I said I'd protect you."

With a mighty effort, the mercenary shunted away the Ice Elemental's mighty arm.

"I'm not letting any more of my friends die." Arc moved at a blinding speed, so quick the creature didn't have time to react. His body peeled forward and the two handed sword tore clean through its victim. A steady stream of data roiled skyward from the inflicted wound. "Especially not you," he whispered.

The boss forgot the woman immediately as it twisted in tantrum. Its fists rained down and sought Arc, but he moved quicker than it could act. The black haired boy wove between a flurry of furious strikes, even as the ground creaked beneath Avalanche's rage.

Arc glanced at the man with a baleful expression. "I imagine when you consider the circumstances, all of the floors seem none too friendly," he replied curtly. It was silly to think of one as more terrifying than another, if only because death was just as possible from the lowliest of boars as from whatever lurked in the darkness. Though of course, to say Arc was not stirred to discontent would have been an outright lie.

"So the story I heard was that there was a strange quest on the fringes of this civilization," Arc explained, "and that it wanted for us to go out into the underworld-" he gestured toward the neverending nightmare- "and find some NPC, then escort him back to safety."

Arc turned to regard Beatbox with a direct glance. "Not that it's problematic, but we can't exactly see our noses in front of our eyes in that thick darkness. We need to avoid combat, though."

Easier said than done.

"This map info was provided by an Info Broker who decided to take time out to explore the whole floor, dungeon and all, with Night Vision. It details this prison facility in the heart of the floor called Tartarus-" If Beatbox knew the myth, he'd know why Arc paused for a moment. "-where we'll find the NPC. It'll be nothing short of labyrinthine inside, but there should at least be dim light. Think you're ready for this?"

He took a moment to center himself, grounded in the heat of battle by knowledge that his efforts were helping someone else. The burning ache to destroy his adversary paled in comparison to the need to place himself between certain death and another living, breathing being. For the first time, Tobias actively harnessed that inner power and channeled it. 

He did so in the form of the Extra Skill, <<Concentration>>. Flooded with intensified direction and acute awareness, his body moved with enhanced alacrity and he surged forward to rip the chitanous layer of icy armor away from his prey.

A growl loosed from his lips as the mercenary hopped from the snow, over a wild swipe of the beast's arm. Ava ripped into the creature with expert, extravagant blows out ahead of him, and Tobias found himself impressed. "Nice moves!" he cheered as she leaped backward, away from harm. 

It was his turn to do something impressive. As the boss reeled from a massive loss, Tobias mounted an offense to push it further off balance. He dove for its throat, plunged his blade hilt deep, and held fast for dear life.

"Alright!" he screamed as the Ice Elemental reared backward and brought him along for the ride. Arc dangled from the creature's neck like a dog collar, weighing it down as he struggled to rip his blade downward. He was in no position to activate a Sword Skill, but he didn't need to.

As long as he had its attention, Ava could finish it off.

When the girl offered him kind, encouraging words it was all the man could do not to slump to his knees in gratitude. No one had given him encouragement or spurred him forward in his goals since he had logged in, and somewhere inside his own darkness he had started to lose sight of them. He constantly reminded himself of his father, but even the slightest touch from outside the game was blocked off by the rig on his head. Only those trapped inside with him could ever reach the ravaged reality that existed in his thoughts. Ava had called out to him without ever meaning to, and finally her words had reached him.

The ache in his gut wrenched as he desperately desired to thank her, and to say so many things. When she implored him to continue, Tobias felt his knees buckle. If not for being half supported by the woman, he might have collapsed in the snow. There were no words from his lips as he struggled to find anything to tell her how he felt. He settled for squeezing her shoulder gently, then relaxing utterly when her hand took his own.

At precisely that moment, the world trembled and Ava jolted. Tobias instinctively pulled the girl to his chest protectively as he looked around for the source of their newly inflicted insanity. 

"Found it," he murmured. The Field Boss sundered the frozen field and rose from the craggy fracture. There was a moment of absolute hopelessness as its hellish eyes centered on the two players, and the crystalline colossus rushed toward them with killing intent.

He leaned close enough to speak into her ear, certain that it would be sure to reach her that way. "I'll take point," he told her. "Get ready, Miss Ava. I'll  protect you, so don't be afraid."

The mercenary turned her loose gently and stepped past her, out into the boss' line of sight. It wouldn't do at all for them to get killed here. They needed a plan. Arc knew he could hold out for a few hits, but he wasn't sure what this boss could do and he wasn't enthusiastic about finding out.

He pulled Levantine from over his shoulder, and Arc prepared for battle. The beast rushed forward and brought its natural weapons down on him, and the youth weathered the storm of snowy slaughter with a grin. "That's right," he nodded. "I'm your enemy."

His blade glowed a golden color as he activated his Sword Skill, and the weapon tore straight through its rocky carapace. It let out a howl of terrible anguish.

The darkness that made up the tenth floor of Aincrad was a haggard, horrible wasteland that mirrored hell. It was intended to mimic the mythical underworld from countless cultures, but in actuality it personified the truest terrors of Aincrad. Nightmarish reality made manifest, from the river Styx to the inescapable Tartarus. Arc stood at the edge of the world, where sanity stood still, and he gazed out into the abyss. Without the ability to pierce the veil with the naked eye, the best that the mercenary could manage was to see patches of flame sporadically splotched across a sea of black.

Nothing could have drawn him here without good reason. Floors like this were the bane of a player's existence. Danger lurked in every shadow, and there was no shortage of those to be found. Every step that one took could be the last. He'd answered the call of a player named @Beatbox this time. His name got passed along infrequently, but when it did Arc chanced to get a word from one eager player or another to take a stab at some strange new quest. He liked the intrigue of it.

Having nothing to go on with regard to the other player's appearance, he resorted to utilizing the given information. The quest giver was at the edge of town, purportedly. That was what brought Arc to the precipice of danger, but he could see no NPC to speak of. "Hmph," he muttered as he glanced around. The lights that illuminated the settlement made it a great deal more navigable than the rest of the floor, but the gloom was no less prominent. He disliked the feeling of this floor more than most of the others he'd been to.

To think, this was the gateway to Taft, a beautiful and bountiful city.

I wonder what kind of quest it is.

"My father told me once," Tobias answered, "and back then, I'm not sure I was old enough to understand. But I still remember the words. 'Integrity means doing the right thing, even when no one is watching." He held her loosely, not wanting to force the girl to support his weight more than absolutely necessary. "He said a lot of things, really," the young man told her. "Fight for what's right, even when everyone else is trying to get you to do wrong." His eyes watched the frigid wasteland ahead of them as he spoke, and the white wind washed over his face. "Become the kind of man other people can rely on."

His jaw had set firmly as he spoke those last words, and the woman might see some repressed emotion if she looked. "It's difficult," he admitted. "When I was young, and even once I got older, I had anger issues. Everyone in my family has them to some degree, but mine were awful. I'd punch holes in walls, or break windows. Once, I even hit a window, and when it hadn't broken, I heard my mind telling me 'it isn't broken. Hit it again.'" It was a painful admission, and one he did not often share. "I knew in that moment, that anger was wrong. It was a monster and it was a part of who I am."

His expression had turned almost sad. "I never wanted to be filled with rage. I wanted to be a kinder, gentler person with the strength to protect others. I wanted to be that person my dad wanted me to be." He looked down to the other hand, then held it out to her. His palm was upturned, fingers calloused from swordplay. The game was realistic in that way. "That rage is there, like a caged beast, but every man has a choice. Do I give in to what I am, or do I fight it with every fiber of me being to become what I want to be?"

Tobias let his hand linger there for the duration of his words. "I would gladly put myself into danger for someone if it meant getting a step closer to that goal. You were so raw in that moment, so uncertain and yet so desperate. You asked for my help. I did the only thing I could do. I gave you my help."

He glanced up and met her eyes, his expression infinitely softer, quieter. "I didn't think I'd end up seeing something so..." Beautiful. You're gorgeous, Ava. But I won't say that. I know that would make you uncomfortable. It's the truth, and I know it, but I'll keep quiet for now.  "...so... great in you." 

He looked out toward the center of the frosted plain as it grew ever nearer. "That moment when we fought the Yeti, once you'd bested in and we found your Phoenix... I was glad I'd met you, for far more than my own reasons."

"Good," he laughed, "because I never much liked Lincoln. I do like you, though." He winked again as he spoke, but his gaze remained forward. They were getting closer now to the area flagged as a "danger zone," but nothing seemed to be attacking them. Nothing except the cold, perhaps. He did glance her way when she started to talk about dangers. "No guts, no glory, Miss Ava," he told her in a gentler voice. "We wouldn't get the strength to come this far without a little danger. 'Sides- I'm here with you. Can't be all too dangerous that way, right?"

She started talking about hugging and getting closer being the best methods of heat transferrence, and he took a deep breath. Yep, she ain't wrong there. Guess I've gotta... wait, would this be considered putting the moves on her? I hope she doesn't take it that way. I just want to keep her warm.

He knew what he needed to do, so he did it.

Tobias draped an arm gently over her shoulders as she got closer, not looking down for fear that his tenacity might waver. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's better like this. Uh. Warmer, I mean. Yeah."

He did finally glance down and meet her half gaze, and saw her smile. They were entering a wide, open field now...

"Hmmm?"

Arc watched the man build slowly from displeasure to rage. He knew the look of choler better than anyone. The subtle motions, how the body burned and the breath became labored. It was as though he were running a marathon while standing in place. Lycan was not remotely in control of himself, and Arc knew it. Left to his devices, he might jump up from his seat and lunge straight for... what was it that had triggered this response?

He had heard mention of a brand, and assumed instantly that it had been seen and triggered something within Lycan's subconscious. When he turned, he saw the depraved scene unfolding and his lips thinned into a flat line. His fingers clutched the other man by the arm, but only just. There was a powerful surge of something from within Arc, something that evoked a similar reaction to the other man's own. But he had a firmer grasp on how to control his rage. He had stocked so much effort into containing his eruptions that it was second nature by now.

"Calm," Arc said, more for his own benefit than for Lycan's. "We need to gauge this situation before running in head first. If he baits us with her like this, odds are he has some sort of plan on the other end of the line. We need to observe, look for an opening, and we need to exploit it. We have to go about this-"

He watched the man force something down her throat, and his own eyes became slits. If Lycan's rage was a wildfire, Arc's was a volcano. He felt his body trembling at that precipice, waiting for the earth to loose its dominance and allow for fire to spew forth. Tobias took another breath and shook his head. "The nerve," he muttered, "to do something so sick in such a..."

The mercenary took stock of the other man immediately. There was a familiarity to his face that was undeniable. "You."

As Addel forced the girl to humiliate herself, Arc pushed Lycan back and took his own steps forward. "I warned you," he said. There was no pretense of threat. That time was gone. He intended only to drag the man kicking and screaming to an untimely end. There were boars in the field that would rip him to shreds so that Arc wouldn't need to do it himself. All he needed was for an Alchemist to hand him a potion that paralyzed its victim, and that would end the game for this rat instantly.

He called Esther a disappointment. Arc's hand moved before the rest of his body could register that he'd thrown a punch. It rocketed toward the man's throat.

"Mmm." Arc considered the words of his tall, fiery haired malefactor and took another sip from his drink. "I think that people cross lines every day," he replied. "Whether or not they're clearly defined. I've never been a fan of the idea of enforcement when it came to things like that. Laws are imposed and taken for granted every day," he shrugged. "I despise the idea of making a rule only for it to be broken, but at the same time, I despise the idea of conceiving a law that can be so easily broken." He glanced over and looked the man up and down. "What it sounds like is a society built on Draconian principle. The idea that the rules exist for a reason, and that breaking them is viciously punished. You're talking about assuming command of a large group of people and imposing your will on them. Don't you think that's a bit different?" he asked. "More like Augustus than anything, if I'm making the proper connection."

Tobias was a man obsessed with History, and so it was his immediate response to relate things in that way. "Caesar was a man well liked by his contemporaries," the historian explained, "people happily accepted when their hero took on the burden of Emperor. But no one likes someone who's made their role useless. No one likes it when someone dominates them, rather, no one should." He tapped the table. "Those who were willingly subjugated stood by and did nothing, but there are those who did not and would not in every age."

The merc smiled slowly. "Do you get that?" he said. "Rule of Law can't protect you from the people who make the law. The moment someone dislikes what you have to say, you get 33 stabs for your trouble."

One drink later, he finally spoke again. "I don't rightly care what society does or doesn't do," he said flatly. "If it burns, it burns. I'm content on the outside. If I can make my way through life, that's one thing. If someone starts telling me how to live, it's another. That's why I'm a merc," he said.

Arc had more command over the weapon than he did initially, but he was still slow and awkward. Understanding how the weapon worked did not make him its master, nor did familiarity with the weight of shape. He became more conscious of it as his motions grew more fluid, but Setanta was still more aware than him of his own attacks. Each quick, shallow jab was met with a curt response. "You're just looking to overwhelm with thin, weak hits," the boy chastised him. "There is no power behind them, and even with the make of the weapon, it can't be made lethal without something to empower it."

He grunted as the impact from a low sweep of Setanta's weapon took him across the stomach. Arc expelled the air from his lungs violently. "You thrust when there is an opening, and not before. The only exception to this is with an opponent who's arms are not geared toward defense, such as an archer or and unarmed opponent. They will find difficulty in most instances with fending off your blows." The boy's sweeping strokes were proof his words held great merit. The only time Setanta had so much as considered a thrust was to show him to accuracy and lethality of the weapon.

"Enough with the faux fighting," the boy waved a hand. "We need to get to a point where the basics are ingrained in your movements. Start with thrusts and sweeps, and I will adjust your training to factor angles once you have a better understanding."

Arc brought the weapon around in a wicked arc from behind his head. He had some training with a staff during his years of Taekwondo study, but the way that a spear worked was infinitely different. There were certain angles of attack far more subtle than anything he had been instructed in. The slapping blow was deftly warded by his opponent, who guided the weapon to the ground after interception. "You've obviously got some talent for it," Setanta praised, "but you're attacking like your weapon is simply blunt. That's not good enough. You want to treat the spear for what it is- a way to find and exploit the enemy's weaknesses."

As he spoke, the boy brought his spear upward in a wicked slash that grazed Arc's torso. The mercenary was too slow to avoid feeling it's raking touch. "You can take your opponent off balance with little things like that," Setanta instructed, then as he took a half step toward the man, the spearman halted the centrifuge of his weapon by thrusting straight forward. The spearhead glided expertly over Arc's shoulder, clear of any real impact.

It was enough to cause the man a brief stint of discontent.

"A spearman requires infinitely more control over his weapon than a swordsman," Setanta explained. "You're attacking from every thinkable direction, and then some." He slowly reneged his weapon, then brought it down to his side. "Now, try again."

"Like this?" Arc asked as he held the lengthy pole overhead, and Setanta immediately cursed. The boy whacked on his forearms, and Arc felt his muscles give out momentarily. The faux spear clattered to the dirt. "Hey, what gives?"

"You're relying more on your arm strength than the weapon," the young man chided. "The point of a spear is piercing power more than anything, so the amount of reliance on arm strength is a factor, but you're devoting too much to it." He knelt down, gripped the pole, then handed it back to the merc. "When you use an overhead grip like that, you have to relax the entirety of your body and devote your entire momentum to the blow. It's not meant to put that much stress on one or two areas. An attack from overhead has the speed, weight, and power of the spearman behind it. It's not just something you start stabbing with indiscriminately."

"So what you're telling me," Arc asked, "is that you should only use that stance when you're sacrificing on everything else for pure power?"

"Yes, exactly." Setanta held up a finger. "What you want to do is put your emphasis on mobility. The danger of a spear is becoming too reliant on offense, thinking that the blade is the only part of the weapon." The boy moved his hand along the haft of his weapon. "You have a good five, maybe six feet of wood at your disposal- sometimes even blunt metal. You can deftly parry blows or use it as a bludgeoning weapon. It's stunningly more versatile than a blade, where you only have a small number of slashing options, stabbing, or bashing with the pommel. Even if you were to halfsword, you would sacrifice on distance to gain accuracy."

Setanta smirked. "With a spear, you don't have to do any of that. It's entire length is inherent to the style. You have that three hundred and sixty degree radius of protection... given you become competent enough to utilize it."

Arc nodded. "I get it," he said. "I think I do get it."

"Then show me." The boy gestured for Arc to come at him.

Taft was strange more because of its inherent beauty than for anything else. It was the first relatively peaceful floor since the first, as every other was embroiled in some strange war or erratic weather patterns. Taft offered a gentle place for people to gather and relax, when they weren't throwing themselves headlong into combat. It had been an information broker, as usual, that brought Arc hence. He stopped by the strange house and peeked out back, and the sight of a young man surprised him. "Ha! Humph... haaargh!"

The youth slammed the head of his lengthy weapon into the training dummy time and again, almost like he sought to bleed the straw from its bowels. Arc peered more closely. "Rrrraaaaaaaagh!" He watched as the boy hefted the weapon overhead and brought it down, testing different angles of attack. The spear seemed more finite than a blade in some ways, but Tobias instant recognized that it offered certain advantages that the shorter weapon did not.

"Excuse me," he called. The boy stumbled, fell on a knee and glanced up at him. "Hey, sorry, I didn't mean-"

"What do you want?" the boy asked abruptly. "Can't you see I'm practicing? What possessed you to sneak up one a spearman? Don't you know I could have stabbed you at this distance and you would have been helpless to react?"

"Yeah, sorry, my bad," Tobias waved aside that portion of the dialogue. There was something else that interested him. "See, I'm interested in what you're doing. I've been swinging this sword now for quite some time, and frankly, it feels odd to me." He held out Levantine for the youth to inspect. With a scrunched up face, the boy looked from the weapon to the man and shook his head.

"I don't give a damn about swords," he said bluntly. "And any warrior worth his salt knows that the spear is a mightier weapon. If you're interested in my spear, I'd gladly teach you something of how to use it. What's your name, swordsman?"

"Arc," the mercenary replied. "I'm Arc. Who are you?"

"My name is Setanta," he replied with a broad smile. Arc tilted his head. What a strange name. It doesn't sound Japanese at all. "And I'm going to be the best spearman in all the lands. One day. You'll see."

"Well, Mr. Best Spearman," Arc nodded. "I'd be much obliged if you would teach me how your weapon works, and help me to get a feel for it. I've been lugging around a heavy sword for so long, a more bulky weapon might be difficult for me at first."

"Well thought, Swordsman Arc." Setanta nodded. "We'll begin immediately." The boy grabbed a pole from the training yard next to him and threw it to Arc. "Hold this in both hands... like this..."

"Good plan," he replied in earnest. "Holding on to our reserves as much as possible is definitely in our best interests. With the floor as cold as it is and our enery pools finite in nature, we're looking at it quickly turning into a war of attrition with us on the receiving end of the stranglehold." He glanced toward the woman and offered a grin. "Y'know thats why the South lost the war, right?"

It was a joke that someone who wasn't American might not fully grasp, but he found it pretty amusing. Nonetheless, he swiftly changed gears. "Still, you take to this command thing pretty well, ma'am. Stick with it."

He seemed to have taken to the nickname instantly, or if he had some sort of internalized response it hadn't shown in his features. If she chose to continue with that particular abbreviation, he would be fine with it.

As they struck off, he heard her mention how could she was. He frowned slightly. "Alright, let's pick up the pace," he said quickly. "If it starts to get unbearable, we'll turn back. Otherwise, let's try to finish this fast." 

He stopped talking for a moment and considered briefly. "Erm," he added, "if you get too cold, I don't mind you walkin' closer. Y'know. For warmth."