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Something is wrong.
Ralsei trails a few steps behind Kris as they weave gracefully across the chessboard. Not a single puzzle has seemed to cause their new director more than a moment’s pause, which he supposes isn’t entirely unexpected. Still, he worries: is that eagerness he sees in their movements, or impatience?
And why do they already have that key?
A day has passed, and with it the worst of Ralsei’s more immediate fears. Things had gone less smoothly, a merciful return to expected behavior. Whatever understanding had fueled Kris-under-direction seemed to falter after they split up from him and Susie; they’d reappeared late and frowning with Noelle, and he noted a few recruits missing when he took tally for Castle Town. He clings to these little signs of fallibility, of unfamiliarity, with a relief so strong it startles him.
The Knight.
The Knight.
The Knight.
Ralsei sits in the snow and stares at the scattered blurs of footprints. If the Soul could bring them through that horror with not even a scratch…
Well. It’s a good thing... right? A powerful ally, more powerful than he could’ve anticipated. If anything could help Kris, it’d have to be this.
Another day further.
A slice of cake, perfectly prepared and not at all filling, is waiting one floor below him. Real cakes, he knows, would be stale by now. He hadn’t meant to leave it unattended for so long, but the chaos of today carried him mercilessly from bookshelves to nightmares before finally dumping him back into the quiet of his room. Fighting back too-fresh memories, he makes his way downstairs. This failure, at least, can be fixed.