If the scenery allowed it, Sonja would wander off to study plants and fallen logs, watching the leaves and mosses as if waiting for them to strike up a conversation. Often she would pick up what she found, nibbling on it throughout the day, or giving it to Claire if she had found enough to share with the entire group. The further north the envoy traveled, however, the less sure she was about what she found. Rowan sometimes joined her on her little ventures, pointing out what he knew. Their conversations about flora, magical and not, carried well into the night at times, the sounds of their quiet voices calming Ceallach's mind before he slept.

When the group had to spend the night under the stars and around a fire, whether it was because they had less of a concept of time or because the company felt at ease in the open, it took them longer to settle down for sleep. Sometimes they would stare into the fire for unnamed hours, dozing perhaps, but not actually sleeping. Sometimes one of them would contribute a story into the quiet.

It was on one such night, while they watched the fire dance, that Sonja noticed a tear in her vest. "No wonder I felt cold...this tear is letting in all sorts of air in," she said, taking it off and frowning at it. Claire and Ceallach leaned in to examine it as well. The rip was at the back of the vest, in a place where it would be hard to notice underneath a loose traveling pack, but it was quite sizable.

"It must have torn when we were traveling across those brambles," Rowan tossed a branch into the fire.

"I can stitch it back up for you, if you'd let me," Ark offered.

Sonja fiddled with it bashfully. "Oh, ah...is that alright with you?"

He smiled and made a little motion with his hands. "Please! Don't make this too formal. Stitching is nothing. I could do it with my eyes closed."

Ceallach wondered if that was some kind of sight joke, but thought it wasn't in very good taste. Finally Sonja smiled back and handed Ark the vest. "The tear is right above the rim," she said.

Ark searched with his hands along the edge and came across the tear. He fingered the threads a while, then nodded at no one in particular. "I'll try to have this done by the end of the night, but I can't be sure of that. Is there a color of thread you would like me to use?"

"Well...black, if you have it. But anything will do!"

The angel pulled out a few spools of thread out of a pocket in his clothing, as well as a needle. Ceallach leaned over and gathered the other spools - white, gold, and blue - into his lap. Ark smiled a bit wider as thanks and got to work with a speed and precision that radiated comfortable confidence. Ceallach lifted his gaze for a moment and noticed that everyone else was staring at Ark working. "...Do all celestials have needle and thread like you do?" he asked.

Ark lifted his head but kept working. "No...I'm sure some do, but I've always had some on hand in case of clothing damage."

"And can all celestials sew as well as you do?"

"It's a skill, and like everything else, it needs to be learned. I'm sure they could if they allowed themselves the time to learn."

At this, the others fell to watching silently. After a few minutes, the angel said, "It's a bit quiet here, isn't it?"

Claire straightened and cleared her throat. "...Have any of you heard the story of the Windflower?"

Sonja said she knew a little bit of it. Ark did not look up from his work but made a little noise that seemed neither positive or negative. Rowan smiled and nodded. Ceallach shook his head.

"You've never heard of her?" Claire asked.

Ceallach shook his head again. "She wasn't in any of the tower's books."

"What about the Fae-touched of the North?"

Ceallach lowered his head.

"Some of the knowledge we take for granted, he has never been taught. We can't blame him for that," Rowan said, poking the fire with a branch. Ceallach felt his ears burn.

"That's alright," Claire smiled gently. "I can tell you this story just like my grandma told me...

"The North has always been full of places filled with hidden magic. Some of this magic isn't the kind that is harnessed by human magicians, whether they be witches or sorcerers or any other. Its source isn't from the gods, who grant their blessings upon chosen individuals, but something else. Some say that the source is something less understood, less restrained - even pinning it on demons and other lurking forces. But regardless, there came to be, long ago, three young women who were blessed by some of this hidden magic, and they called themselves the Fae-touched because they claimed the fair folk gave them their power."

An image of one of the travel paws came up in Ceallach's thoughts, but this was no weathered rock - it was a solid, freshly engraved marker, wood perhaps, glowing with power. Whether this power was from the gods that the footprints were supposed to be from or from one of the other sources, he did not know. But the image was vivid and he thought it was important, so he hung on to it as he turned over the possibilities in his mind.

"Each of the Fae-touched had their own place to be in - one in Winter's Mouth, the north-west, one in the wild forests of the north-east, and the last in the cold, snowy central north, where the city of Narwend is today. They were wild, hidden beings - appearing only to drive away those that would abuse their homes or disrupt the natural rhythms of the land. But even if they were not seen, their presence was surely felt, for the Northern people back in the day treated untamed lands with respect."

Ceallach's mind was now filled with wide landscapes and the mysterious presences that occupied them. He thought of something and looked up. "What were their names?"

Claire went quiet and seemed to be at a loss.

"Something lost to time, unfortunately," Rowan said. He stretched his hands towards the fire. "And nobody seems to agree on what they looked like either. Some say that they were all tall, fair maidens with golden hair, while others insist they were beastly women that were terrifying to see. People forget the specifics once figures become legends."

Claire waited meekly in case anyone else had any other questions, then went on. "Now for the story that is nearer to our time, a hundred years ago or maybe more. The South had great cities and lots of people back then. This was true of the East and the North too, but the Southern cities were the biggest because they grew large attacking and defending against their neighbors. One day a commander from one of these cities, whose name was Evander, received the blessings of a god and conquered the surrounding territories."

The name tugged at the edge of Ceallach's mind, but he was more focused on the idea that god-blessed person was able to accomplish so much. "By himself?"

"Almost...he only had a small band of soldiers at first, but he took over the other cities' armies and added them to his own force." Claire shifted and brought her hands in front of her. "Now these armies did not like being under the command of someone who just...came in and sacked their city! He had a difficult time getting them to follow his orders. To make matters worse, the Northern, Eastern, and Western regions came together and decided to halt trade to the South in an attempt to starve him out. For a while there was nothing from him. Then he declared he was going to invade the North and the whole South rallied behind him."

Ceallach dropped his gaze to the fire. He could almost see marching armies in the movement of the flames. Yes, this story was sounding familiar to him now. Before Aisling had fallen asleep, they were reading a story about a conqueror named Evander. They had even argued about him...

"There was some sacking on the way there, but the East did not suffer nearly as much damage as the North did. The North was then made up of independent city-states...and each one of them was more concerned with their own safety than that of the region as a whole," Claire continued. Sonja tutted sharply, but did not comment. "So one by one they started to fall. Western and Eastern groups mobilized to try to stop him with just as much success. But, despite the great amounts of plunder they gathered, there came a time when Evander' forces ran out of resources. In order to replenish their arrows and firewood, they went into the forest...which brought them to the attention of the Fae-touched."

"Certainly not what they bargained for," Ark said off-handedly. He had the vest on his lap and was now peeling an apple with a small knife.

"Not at all! Southern citizens had no reason to know about Northern legends after all. As soon as the realm of one of the Fae-touched was trespassed upon, the three of them gathered their beasts, beastmen, and united nearby Northern forces to drive the invaders back. And yet, even all three Fae-touched joined together could not defeat Evander in direct combat - but neither could he defeat them. Eventually, he took an elite squadron and made his way around their armies in secret. His movements were noticed by a lone Northern soldier, who rushed to try to warn the Fae-touched. Just as his warning escaped his mouth, Evander made his move and was about to strike them all down. It was then that one of the Fae-touched, that of the central region, received the blessing of the Northern gods," Claire closed her eyes and brought up her hands as if conjuring the next image. "Her hair became a dazzling white, the winds blew at her command, and a glittering sword of silver and opal appeared in her grasp. She summoned a storm and faced Evander alone as the two other Fae-touched fought his elite force. The two god-blessed battled each other for hours...and in the end, Evander fell." Claire folded her hands on top of her lap. "The Southern forces withered and fell away. The blessed Fae-touched was named the Windflower, for she was beautiful as well as strong. The North united under her and asked her what to do next, but she said she could not both be a heroine and a ruler. She told them to come together under a king - someone who knew their suffering and would lead them wisely. And so the North chose the soldier that came to the Windflower's aid to be the first king of Narwend, Esmond the First."

Ceallach rested his chin on his fists and tried to imagine the Windflower as she was in the moment she received her gifts. "...How did the Windflower defeat Evander if she was only newly blessed? Evander must have had months, years to master his powers."

"Maybe the Windflower's blessing was just that much stronger?" Sonja offered, though she had a wondering expression herself. "Maybe, since she was blessed by all the Northern gods, she had enough power to defeat him..."

"The gods knew at that moment they could not let her lose," Claire nodded confidently. "That must be why."

Ceallach picked up the end of his hair and twisted it around his fingers idly. He thought of the little tail-knife he had been given, pondered the difference between potential gifts, and sighed, waiting for the rest of the story. Curiously, Claire went quiet, as if she had finished. Where was the trial of Evander, and his single utterance on the day of his execution? Ceallach wanted to point it out, but he realized that he could not remember Evander's last words exactly - so he decided not to.

After a moment of silence, he pulled Sonja's vest off Ark's lap to look at it. The angel did not move to stop him. The vest had been completely repaired, so he handed it back to its owner. Sonja laughed in pleasant surprise. "Done already! And you were talking as if you couldn't finish it in one night! Thank you, Ark."

The angel smiled a smaller smile than usual. "Well...it has been a while since I last did any sewing...I wasn't sure how well I'd be able to manage..."

Rowan chuckled and leaned back. "A modest celestial? That is stuff for the legends!"

Sonja and Claire joined him in some quiet laughter. Ceallach leaned towards Ark and noticed him lowering his head. Sonja grinned and waved towards the angel good-naturedly. "Never mind that! Why don't you tell us a story? The night's still young, and we've never heard any from you! Surely you must know some."

Ark did not lift his head and continued to chip away at the apple in his hands. "As a historian, I know many tales," he said casually, "but many of them are not worth sharing. History is often very dull."

"I've always liked reading about history," Sonja said. "Reading about who went where doing what thing...it lets you see where we came from. What's been passed down to us."

"For every noble journey there are thousands of mundane events. For every conquest deemed righteous there are many more tragedies. There is a lot more to history," the angel said, running his fingers over the apple's surface, "than what men care to write down."

This quieted the others a fair amount. Rowan took off his hat and stood to shake out their travel blankets and check on the wards he had drawn. Ceallach glanced briefly at what Ark was holding. The apple had a very thin line of color across it that was not part of its own skin. There was also a tiny nick on the angel's thumb. "Give that here, I'll cut it for you. Then you can tell us what we've overlooked."

Ark smiled faintly and let Ceallach take the knife and apple. "Well, if you insist..." He paused to think of what to say, then began. "Claire's story gives me an idea - our fellow Evander was not the first to go about this land and take it for himself. Does the name 'Casimir' mean anything to you?"

Sonja and Claire seemed deep in thought for a few moments but did not come up with anything.

"His name is difficult to find, but his deeds remain. He is responsible for the first great Solteuran war - not the second, in which the heroine of our previous story, the Windflower, fought in."

Claire smiled a little and hugged her knees at the mention of that name. Otherwise, the others were silent.

"Casimir did not possess particular strength or wisdom. What he did have, however, was an undeniable charisma: others were naturally inclined to follow him. This included...a celestial then assigned as a mortal-relations clerk. Casimir managed to win over or convince this clerk to help him..."

"What was the celestial's name?" Rowan asked from some distance away. The others murmured their own curiosity as well.

Ark paused, his face pinching lightly as he closed his eyes behind his blindfold, then slowly scratched behind his head as he spoke. "You'll have to understand. Even if this may be considered ancient history, the names of celestials are not lightly given. To be named is...revealing. May I continue?"

The question seemed like a warning against interruptions. Ceallach turned the peeled apple over in his hand and decided not to pass it over just yet. Rowan looked over his shoulder back at the gathered group, but did not say anything.

"However Casimir did it, he had a celestial backing him. This celestial in turn influenced other celestials - through lobbying, trickery, calling in favors - to serve Casimir. No mortal army could defeat him with the power of countless heavenly servants unknowingly ensuring his success. He began capturing territory in the East...then the North...the West after that...and finally the South. He had the whole continent of Solteura in his grasp," said Ark, turning his gaze to his upturned palm.

"Though he was charismatic, he was cruel and tyrannical. He instituted laws preventing the slightest of actions against him or his officers, enslaved many to create castles and forts for him and his army, and took many lives for his own pleasure. Years passed with the people under his total control...until a small force of rebels organized in secret to rid the world of him. And it was then, only then, that the heavens began to notice some mortal had much more power than any one mortal should. Casimir's personal army was more than enough to dispose of the rebels acting alone, but the celestials rallied behind them and helped them secure victory - and Casimir's head. With him gone, the different sections of Solteura drew back to themselves to rebuild and get rid of his influence, while the celestials retreated back to the heavens, vowing never to repeat their mistake. Thus ended the first great Solteuran war and the reign of Casimir." Ark wiped his hands together and made a motion for his apple, which Ceallach numbly handed to him.

The stories had been told, and the tent was ready, so naturally the lot of them gathered inside to rest soon afterwards. Rowan stayed outside a while longer to put out the fire. There was some noise of wings settling and bodies rolling, then quiet and breathing.

Ceallach lay awake and saw imagined images of what that time must have been in the dark space in front of him. The dull shape of Casimir stirred a slow fury in his chest, even though he knew that man was long gone. The very idea of what the tyrant did disturbed his thoughts, forming them again and again into different ways for him to have met his end. Nothing felt satisfying. He could not think of a way to put such a person to death that punished him enough. He tried to put him through the trial he had read was given to Evander, but that was too tame and orderly for a criminal like Casimir...

Instead, he tried to think of other elements of the story, like the brave rebels who stood up, even if they must have known their force would be crushed...that is, until the celestials helped them. Ceallach pondered the courage or foolishness of the rebels before he realized that one detail of the story bothered him. He pushed himself up with an arm and touched Ark's shoulder.

The angel stretched a wing and opened his eyes, which blinked uselessly for a few seconds before closing again. "What is it, Ceallach?" he asked softly. There was no trace of annoyance or anger in his voice.

Ceallach settled back down carefully. "The celestial that helped Casimir, the clerk...what happened to them?"

"Why do you ask? It's long since over now."

Ceallach frowned. "That celestial must have liked Casimir...been friends with him, loved him even, to do that much for him. They must have been sad somehow to see him killed...and what happened afterwards? Did they...just go back to the heavens and that was it?"

Ark was silent for a while. One of his hands reached for the blindfold at his neck and hung on to it. "I can't say why she did what she did. As for what happened afterwards, she was put on trial and found guilty. She had her wings and senses stripped from her and was banished to the mortal realm."

"What then?"

"I don't know. No one knows. We only have theories. She was struck out of the records from the time of her banishment." Ark fell silent for a moment, then added, "...She would have died quickly, if she was lucky."

Then, perhaps uncomfortable with what he had just said, he turned around and covered his head with his blanket. Ceallach shifted so he was leaning on one arm. The two stories seemed linked, or at least Ark seemed to imply that they were. But Casimir seemed concerned with only himself, and Evander said he was fighting for someone...perhaps...if he could just remember...

"Ark, I knew Claire's story."

"That is very interesting," Ark said from beneath his blanket.

"But she didn't mention something I thought was very important - that Evander didn't die in his battle against the Windflower. He was executed after a trial. And he said something before he died."

Ark did not move, but Ceallach felt as if he had the angel's attention somehow.

"He mentioned someone named Chryseis, and that he wanted to correct his father's wrong towards her. To give her what his father could not. Do you know who that is?"

Ark was silent and still, almost barely breathing. Finally, he said, "That is a very dangerous name, one that should be forgotten, one celestials are not allowed to discuss. I do not know how you found it. Please let me sleep."

Ceallach blinked in the dark, then lay on his back, sighing heavily. He blinked away any new images that popped up and put his hands behind his head, letting his thoughts turn into dreams.