Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Apollo hated this.

"Sir, I—"

"We can't afford to send you out with a wagon so I do hope you're capable of carrying your own tent and bedroll for long periods of time."

He really, really hated this.

"I can, and that's not the issue, but—"

"Perhaps, if you didn't mind spending some of your own coin on it, you could rent some kind of mule or other pack animal to carry them but that's just extra expenses, isn't it? Regardless, you have to consider the social ramifications of a paladin of your caliber just walking from town to town with a mule of all things."

It's not like this wasn't something he wanted; he did. He wanted this more than anything in the world, but...

"Sir, I keep trying to ask you why—"

"I would advise a horse but you can't afford that, can you? No, it would be wiser to walk on foot with a pack animal. Simple, down to earth. It shows you care for the commonfolk."

"Why now?!"

Kristoph Gavin turned to look at Apollo, eyes glinting behind his glasses. The corner of his mouth twitched briefly before his expression settled back into the calm, easygoing neutral smile he always wore. "Ah. Forgive me for being so remiss as to not explain the situation in more detail."

Deep breath in. Hold. Out. "Thank you, sir. I - sorry for asking but—"

"What's done is done, Justice. Don't waste words." Apollo closed his mouth and stood at attention as Mr. Gavin rapped his nails on the surface of his desk, the rolling sound almost agonizing in contrast to the room's natural silence. "Why now, you asked?"

Apollo nodded, terse. His silence and compliance was appreciated, as Mr. Gavin smiled again and settled down at his desk.

"Do you remember the death of the prior Court Magician?" Apollo nodded again. "Nasty business. But he had two apprentices and, during the lead-up to their Judgement, one of them flew the coop. The Heavens have had a...suspicion for a while that our errant Hero had a hand in helping him...disappear."

Loaded words from a man who was currently the Court Magician but Apollo understood that kind of veiled language. It was polite, after all, to speak of important people in vagueries.

Mr. Gavin folded one hand over the other and tilted his head. "Considering that he's been neglecting his duties for quite a while, the Heavens have considered some kind of Inquisition for some time. But Inquisitions are resource-intensive, require a moderate amount of time to prepare, and involve the Inquisitors and the Heavens do like to work within their means, reducing human error by requisitioning smaller parties, as it were."

"That would be me?" He hadn't meant for it to be a question but...

"It would indeed." Mr. Gavin didn't seem to be bothered. Instead, he sighed dramatically and waved a hand at all of Apollo. "You've come a long way since you first showed up here, Justice, and this is your chance to actually make a difference in the world."

This was his chance to actually take a step towards his goal.

(Even if he hated every step there.)

"Thank you, Mr. Gavin."

"As to why; well it's simple isn't it?" With a wave of his hand, a quill began writing on paper midair, suspended by Mr. Gavin's periwinkle magic. He folded his hands underneath his chin again and smiled at Apollo, his long lashes curving angelically beneath the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses. "The supposed Hero left to slay the Demon King a few months ago and the Fallen Angel still lives. Either he is colluding with monsters and has betrayed the Heavens—which would bring to question all of his acts of heroism to this point—or he is dead and somehow the Heavens have been unable to notice this to name the next Hero."

The idea that there was some sort of magic that could erase the death of a Hero from the sights of the Heavens was untenable but...

Well, far be it for Apollo to assume anything of magic. He didn't become a paladin just because it was cool. Magic was not his purview and an Oath went a long way to bridging the gap between mundane and magic in that regard.

(Strange magic sight notwithstanding.)

"So I'm—"

"You are to make your way to the castle of the Demon King and determine if the Hero Wright is doing his job or if the Fallen Angel has killed him." Apollo swallowed heavily as Mr. Gavin cut him off, coldly explaining the facts. "If the Hero is alive but has been proven to be a traitor, then your job becomes to arrest him and bring him back here for Judgement. If the Hero is dead, then your job is to take up the mantle officially."

"This is an order directly from the Heavens?"

"Leave that kind of worrying to me, Justice." Mr. Gavin laughed. It was, as always, a tinny sound, like raindrops pelting the metal of a wind-chime. Cold. Bright. Distant. "The Heavens will delight in knowing that the Hero has done their job."

Not an answer but...

"When should I move out?" As Mr. Gavin said: it didn't do either of them any favors if he quibbled about fine details. Best to ask the next question on his mind and move forward so he could leave.

The sooner he got started, the sooner he could be done with this.

"As soon as possible." Of course. "However—!"

Mr. Gavin never ended sentences like that. Apollo watched him carefully, patiently waiting for him to complete his thought so he could leave to ready himself for this journey. Eventually, Mr. Gavin nodded, a flicker of magic curling off of his fingers.

"My brother will accompany you."

What?

As he said that, his office door opened and in walked a man who looked nigh on identical to Mr. Gavin, albeit a little younger. He looked so similar that Apollo almost mistook him for some kind of changeling or other glamored faerie before he clocked all the iron jewelry he was decked with.

The man who looked like Mr. Gavin walked over to Mr. Gavin's desk, positioned himself at Mr. Gavin's elbow, and stood there, quietly waiting for his brother to speak again. Apollo watched him carefully, a strange prickly wariness creeping across his shoulders. This was eerie.

"This," Mr. Gavin gestured at his brother with a well-manicured finger, "is my younger brother Klavier."

"Um...hiya." It was reflexive, but manners did go a long way to bridging gaps between people, or so Mr. Gavin said.

Klavier Gavin stared at him, silent, and inclined his head in a silent greeting.

"Do forgive him, but he doesn't speak." Mr. Gavin's lips curled in a smile and he tilted his chin up to look at his brother, whose expression flattened back to a strange, doll-like placidity. "But that surely will make him a fine traveling companion, won't it?"

Days if not weeks of traveling with a silent companion who looked exactly like Mr. Gavin.

Apollo wasn't sure he could've hated this job any more than he already did and yet—

"I'm sure it will," he lied. Klavier Gavin's eyes widened a little but his expression remained comfortably pleasant.

"My brother may not speak, but he is well versed in a fair amount of things and, although crude, he has found a way to communicate if pressed. If you have any questions you might ask me, he will know the answer. Additionally," Mr. Gavin used his magic to pull a rolled up map from a barrel on the far side of the room, "he will be in control of your funds. I will provide you with a stipend with which you are to use only to carry out your job, is that clear?"

Whether his sharp words were meant for Apollo or Klavier Gavin was unclear. He erred on the side of caution and assumed it was for him, replying with a nod. "Yes sir."

"And, as I know that paperwork isn't your forte, he will also be filling out reports on your journey to submit to me upon your return." Before Apollo could say anything, ask him what he meant by that, Mr. Gavin continued on, through a bright and shining smile. "It's so when I file it for the Heavens it is up to my standards, you understand."

"Yes sir."

"Good! The trip shouldn't be too long so pack quickly and be on your way. I expect great things from you, as always, Justice."

Having been summarily dismissed, Apollo took his time leaving Mr. Gavin's office, eyes lingering on Klavier Gavin standing next to his brother. No matter what his sponsor said, no matter how he belittled him, Klavier Gavin remained perfectly poised and at the ready, face a placid mask of obedience.

Mr. Gavin had called him mute but implied he could speak, just that he didn't. He spoke at him and about him but never to him. It was almost as if he was less of a person and more of some kind of...extension of himself.

(Mouthfuls of curry and snide words spoken around rice grains. The satisfaction of being petty. Small spells that sparked fires across his skin. Names being called in a language he only practiced in his private time. Laughter and wrestling. Games of hide and seek where one of them cheated. That is what brotherhood was, not this sterilized master-servant relationship.)

Apollo swallowed his revulsion and bid them a hasty retreat. It wasn't his business what Mr. Gavin did with his brother, no matter how nauseating it was to think about.

Klavier Gavin's gaze felt like cold ice on the nape of his neck. He couldn't close the door fast enough.

He just wanted this to be over with already.

Klavier Gavin turned out to be a steady hand with animals. This was, of course, incredibly useful for their traveling duo because the mule Apollo paid for absolutely hated him.

"Didn't know the damn things could bite."

He received no response to his grumbling as Klavier Gavin saddled the beast up and secured their supplies on its haunches. Admittedly, Apollo held no delusions about ever getting any kind of response from him, but he could at least snicker or look apologetic or offer him something.

Instead, the weirdly near-identical copy of Mr. Gavin continued to work without so much as flinching even as Apollo cursed the stubborn ass with all he had.

This was going to be a long two and a half weeks.

Klavier Gavin was, while at first glance identical to, actually quite different from Mr. Gavin. Aside from their hair and face and eyes—and their stiff clothing choices, suits and all—they held themselves differently. Mr. Gavin was stiff edges and sharp angles. He was proper and prim and expected the same from Apollo, so he was deeply familiar with his stance, with the way he stood and stared and smiled. Klavier Gavin, on the other hand, was...

In Mr. Gavin's office he was stiff and upright. Hands behind him, standing as though he had a swordpoint pressed into the small of his back, face a well-schooled placid mask of pleasant nothingness. Now, with only Apollo and the mule to really observe him, he was way more relaxed. All the rigid angles in his posture were replaced with more soft curves. Something more naturalistic and comfortable. Graceful but without the odd puppet-like taint to it.

He looked less like a doll and more like a person.

"You get everything strapped on?" Apollo peered over Klavier Gavin's shoulder, trying to keep himself and any of his extremities away from the mouth end of the mule. Or the hoof end. Either end, really. One injury was too many, to be honest, and he wasn't keen on repeating the experience.

Klavier Gavin looked up at Apollo and then stood, dusting his hands on his pants. Each brush of his hands left grey-brown hair and yellow dust streaks on his nice, dark pants. A soft smile crossed his face and he nodded, gesturing with his dominant hand—or what Apollo assumed was his dominant hand—at the mule.

Tentatively, Apollo doublechecked the straps.

They were surprisingly well-done. The saddle blanket draped across the mule's back covered enough that they didn't have to worry that the poor animal would be hurt by chafing. The leather straps were tightened enough that their packs wouldn't shift too much, both sides evenly distributed. Apollo could easily pick out his gear among Klavier Gavin's or the rations they purchased. One tent, two bedrolls, a few pieces of equipment, some simple cookware, the usual for a long trip. As good as it was gonna get.

And, as an added bonus, the mule didn't look uncomfortable or irritated.

"You mind taking care of the mule?" Apollo thumbed at the animal. He tried his best to pretend as though this wasn't because he just got bit and wasn't planning on getting bit every couple miles for the unforeseeable future. Then the thought occurred to him and he doubled back, "You don't have to, of course, since Mr. Gavin already has you doing a lot and you didn't ask to be here or anything but—"

(In the back of his head, a tiny Trucy voice cheerily called him a bleeding heart and warned him against letting people take advantage of him. As always, he pushed that voice down and chose to ignore it. This was just common courtesy. There was no reason to foist any more work on his traveling companion if he wasn't okay with it.)

Klavier Gavin's eyes wrinkled. He shook his head and reached out to pet the mule's nose again. It snorted and nuzzled him, pleased with the attention.

Apollo tried to parse what he was trying to communicate and settled on, "You're fine with it?" A nod. "O..kay? Thank you." Again, Klavier Gavin's eyes softened and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. Was he laughing at him?

Well, it didn't matter anyway. He just had to tolerate this for...a month or so.

Holy Mother give him strength.

The two of them made their way out of the city gates, passing by guards in royal colors, flags painted on their tower shields. Apollo felt the burning pressure of the capital recede as their ambling took them farther down the main road, farther into the plains, the first steps of their journey almost freeing in that sense. It was like coming up for air while underwater. It was like eating food after a long fasting period.

He missed being out here; more than he realized, apparently.

The silence—more silent than the capital with its hustle and bustle but different, the cries of animals and singing insects a comfort—swallowed them whole again. Apollo felt his nerves writhe like a disturbed snake, thrashing discomfort in his guts.

Klavier Gavin's eyes continued to comb over him, the sky blue scraping his skin raw where they dragged. While he didn't speak—wouldn't speak—Apollo felt the unsaid desire for...something press against his teeth. Being observed in silence was agonizing.

"So this is going to be a long one, huh?" Making idle conversation with a mute man was, by far, one of the smartest ideas Apollo has ever had in his life—right next to leaking confidential information to the Hero's daughter so the Hero could do his damn job. He just needed there to be something to fill the space or he might combust. "The, uh, trip I mean."

Klavier Gavin looked askance at him, one eyebrow raised as if he was asking, Small talk? Really?

"Look—" Was he genuinely arguing with someone who wasn't even speaking? It had already been a long day of travel and yet...this was a fun new low.

Klavier Gavin covered his mouth with a ringed hand, likely hiding a laugh.

Asshole. "It's this or listen to me sing for the next few hours until we set up camp." That elicited a different reaction from him: unbridled delight. Apollo could practically see his eyes sparkling. The mule's lead creaked in his grasp, the corded rope wrapped around his palm as he carefully guided the animal down the path at their side, and yet he still managed to give off the air of an excited child. "What?! You want that?"

Klavier Gavin flashed him a delighted—or perhaps mischievous—look and nodded, once.

Apollo tried his best to not look as though he was aware he was being had. "It was a threat." A raised eyebrow. "I cannot sing." A second raised eyebrow. "Genuinely. I think it's better if I just..." Really put his foot in it. "Look..."

Thankfully, Klavier Gavin was a merciful weird quiet man and he just shook his head and focused on the road ahead of them, leaving them both in awkward silence.

Apollo wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Or for Nemesis to strike him down here and now as karmic balance for eating so much crow. Either or.

It was going to be a long, terrible questing period.

If there was one constant in life, it was that Apollo had an almost compulsive need to stick his nose into other people's business. If you asked him, he would swear up and down that it was because he wanted to do good, to help people, and sometimes that meant being a bit nosy.

The fact was that it was just something he did with no rhyme or reason. He often just stumbled into situations where he was exposed to someone's issues and the easiest way to extricate himself from said issues was to resolve them.

Hence the situation he and Klavier Gavin found himself in.

"I told you them foxes ain't any good! Damn demons ain't turned over a new leaf or nuthin'. Bet their pastries n' noodles are just dirt n' leaves n' shit!"

Apollo rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed through his teeth. "I understand that you're distraught, ma'am, but can you please—"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me! You're a hero-type, ain't you? Do the hero-type thing n' eliminate the damn pests! They've gotten away with it for far too long now!"

She wasn't listening. Somehow, Klavier Gavin was a better listener than this woman. Twilight beyond, that Apollo could catch a break just once. "I'm trying to understand what the issue is. I can't just go through and kill a bunch of people just because—"

"Kitsune ain't people." Okay. No.

His expression locked down, tightened and sharpened. The woman flinched under his glare and stopped talking. "Please point me towards the involved parties."

She gestured up the road. "The foxes live in the manor up thataways."

"Anyone else?"

"The doctor had an assistant. She shouldn't be too hard to find, I think. Ask for Alita Tiala."

"Thank you." Apollo broke away from the woman and stomped up the road to talk to the involved kitsune. That had been like pulling teeth.

He just—

"Don't look at me like that." Klavier Gavin pressed his lips together, both eyebrows shooting up, inquiring what he meant. "I just needed information and she wasn't—"

Even if he didn't speak, his expression often spoke volumes. It wasn't as if Klavier Gavin was disappointed in him—he wasn't Mr. Gavin, who wielded disappointment like a cudgel—but more that he looked almost confused.

"You can't dismiss someone just because they're—" Nope. Stop. Back up and try again. Too honest. "There's likely more to this than what's being said. The average person only knows the rumors and hearsay. I want to make sure that what I'm doing is Just."

That seemed to satisfy his traveling companion, whose expression settled back into that schooled neutrality he favored whenever they were around other people. Apollo swallowed heavily and continued up the path towards the fox's manor.

That woman hadn't been kidding when she called it a mansion. It was a large building done up in the style of the eastern nations, painted with vibrant reds and yellows, with a large dragon swimming across clouds painted across the outer wall that made Apollo's throat close up with emotion. Above the entryway was a sign that depicted a stylized fox with a leaf on its head. Apollo stood at the entryway and steeled himself, trying to remember what he could about kitsune.

Tricksters, yes, but not necessarily violent. Shapeshifters. But if they'd been in this town long enough to have a home this lavish and be openly known as kitsune then...

Why now? Why were they only now killing people?

"You gonna stand around with your mouth catching flies, or do you have business with us, boy?" Apollo startled and turned to face whoever had spoken, bristling slightly.

He found himself face to face with a large woman in fine eastern nations garb—the same black, red, and yellow as the manor—sweeping the front walk. She grinned at him, eye-teeth flashing carnivore-sharp, and Apollo noted the way her skin glittered in undulating yellow waves.

"Ah, uh, apologies." Apollo bowed to the woman. "My, uh, companion and I were passing through and heard you were having issues? I am a paladin of Themis and was hoping to aid in smoothing things over before we moved on." Behind him, he could almost see the expression Klavier Gavin must be wearing. A barely contained smile or something closer to amusement at his stretching of the truth—if he, like Mr. Gavin, was privy to the lie he'd just told.

The woman just laughed, the sound like a wooden flute. "Chin up, kid. No need to keep your head so low. We haven't bothered with the swords of the Law in ages so you don't need to fear."

Ah. They did used to be a problem. Great.

"Th-thank you." Don't stutter, the dry voice of Mr. Gavin derided in his head. It makes you sound unprofessional. "Thank you."

"How can I help? Nasty business, that murder." The woman smiled again, all predatory amusement. "I want to see it solved, you see? Nice and quick, like it should."

"Oh?"

"He didn't do it." She must mean the kitsune currently being accused. "I know he didn't."

"How do you—?"

"My Wocky could never kill anyone, let alone that doctor." Before Apollo could start to get upset he was being talked over—as always—the realization of what was said washed over him. This woman was—

"Your Wocky?" Klavier Gavin laughed gently into his hand, a percussive roll of air with no tone. The back of Apollo's neck flushed with embarrassment.

"My Wocky." The woman repeated. "I'm the wife of the head of the Kitaki skulk. You can call me Lil' Plum. Wocky is my dearest son, the heir to the Kitaki name."

Oh. Hm. That made things way more complicated than before. "A-ah. Your...son."

Plum's smile seemed much more menacing than before—not as though it had been particularly friendly to begin with—and it took everything he had to keep his expression neutral. He was a representative of Themis. He was a hero. He needed to calm himself.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Professional. Professional.

Plum grinned wider, nose wrinkling as she did, dark eyes glittering with something that could have been mirth or amusement or could have been hunger. "Sure. So long as you're hearing us out, I'll help however I can. Me and Win don't want our boy hurt, you understand." A threat, unsubtle in its delivery and yet padded. Not directed at him, but in the general group of the townsfolk.

If their son was deemed a danger and killed, if the townsfolk rioted and slaughtered one of the Kitaki skulk, the heads would retaliate with impunity.

Understood.

Apollo nodded and she continued on, leaning against her broom while she recounted the events. "Late last night, Wocky went out to do something. You know how young boys are, always getting up to things. But then he comes back late and we hear the people kicking up a fuss about the local doctor showing up dead. They're pointing fingers at us, of course, and Wocky just stands up and says he tore the poor bastard's throat out." Her grip on the broom handle tightened, lip curling in a snarl. "That was enough for them to decide he needed to be caged and killed."

"But they haven't killed him."

"Yet." The word was sharp, a bark, a barb. Apollo flinched at her interruption. "They haven't killed him yet, and that's because Winfred has been standing vigil at the cage until they get a Law type to come Judge the case."

And Apollo, unluckiest hero-to-be, wandered into town with the scales on his pommel visible and an air of someone who gave a shit about what was and was not Just.

Behind him, Apollo could hear the soft huffing of Klavier Gavin's stifled laughter at his expense. His neck warmed.

"You're certain he didn't do it?" That was the wrong thing to say, even if had been a genuine attempt at clarification.

"My Wocky is a lot of things, but he isn't a killer. Sure, he's only ever known peace. Me and Win've worked hard for our skulk to be acceptable and respected here. It isn't like it used to be, when us foxes had to hide what we were, but he parades around with barely a glamor on, insisting we need to be proud of what we are and it's all we can do to keep him from making mischief in a way that upsets others." Plum's glamor rippled, the yellow parting to show fur and fangs beneath the human guise. Snout curled in a snarl, she pulled the glamor back around herself and exhaled. "We want what's best for him but kits need to be free, don't they? Wocky talks a big game but this town is his home, these people his people. Kitsune used to be guardian deities and that's how we operate. Wocky is no different. He wouldn't hurt anyone, especially not that doctor."

She was old. Apollo caught a glimpse of five tails when her control loosened, when her temper caught the better of her, and yet—

"Thank you for telling me this." The Kitaki skulk had been here for long enough that the young heir grew up alongside the younger townsfolk. All it had taken to upset their idyllic balance was a single death and the blame being pushed to the kitsune. A tenuous balance.

It was nauseating, in a way, how hard Apollo had to keep his voice steady, how hard he had to chase away any language that wasn't the common tongue, how difficult it was to stomp down the parts of him Mr. Gavin said were unbecoming so he could help.

He wanted to help.

This sucked so bad.

"The cage they're keeping Wocky in. Where is it?"

Plum pointed with her broom. "Main square, by the gallows. It's almost a mockery, isn't it?"

It was. "Do you know where I could find an Alita Tiala? I was told she was the deceased's assistant and might know more."

Plum growled—a low sound that almost went unnoticed except that her glamor rippled, flashing fangs and fur and pinned ears—but nodded. "She should be either near the graveyard or at his house, clearing out his belongings. She was the only one who really knew Meraktis, after all."

What else could he even say? "I'll likely be back later. In the case that I am not, you should gather at the cage for Judgement in an hour or so."

"Thanks."

"Of course." It was the least he could do.

He turned on his heel and began walking again.

He didn't want to think too deeply about this if he could help it. It felt too much like home.

When Plum had described what her son had been kept in as 'a cage', Apollo had assumed she was being hyperbolic.

She wasn't.

Wocky was a young kitsune—by both human and fox standards, his one tail whipping about beneath his pants—and he looked less bothered by his potential execution than he was the fact that nobody was listening to him as he swore up and down he'd torn the throat out of the doctor in cold blood. Even cramped in a small iron cage meant for medium sized prey, he was laid back and bored, fangs bared in a frustrated snarl.

"Old man, stop tryin' ta clear my name! I keep sayin': I ate the old bastard's throat out! Nobody else, nuthin' else, just me an' my fangs! Crusty ass had it comin'!"

Next to the cage, dressed similarly to Plum, was an enormous man wearing an apron embroidered with the same stylized kitsune wearing a leaf on its head. Thick brows furrowed, he looked down at the caged fox and shook his head. "Wocky, you and I both know—"

"You an' I nuthin'! Why can't you or ma get it through all the fluff in your ears: I killed the doctor. End of story."

Ah. So this had to be Winfred, head of the Kitakis. Apollo watched as he stood there, silent as a statue, only to sigh and shake his head again. "Wocky...you can't keep doing this. You're going to hurt more than just yourself."

"I ain't afraid of nuthin'! An' it ain't like I'm tryin' ta do nuthin', I'm just being honest!" Still, Wocky's ears gave away his apprehension.

Winfred didn't speak again. He just stood there, a barrier between his son and any villagers that might try and enact mob justice before he could be Judged.

Now was when he should enter this scene. Apollo walked forward as if he hadn't been watching them from the shadows, Klavier Gavin following behind as always. He made sure to keep his steps even, his face stern but not emotionless, and kept his hands away from his sword.

"Winfred of the Kitaki skulk?" The large man turned to face Apollo, his immense size casting a dark shadow that swallowed up everything in its wake. "I'm Apollo Justice, paladin of Themis, and I had a few questions for you." No need for fear or doubt. No need for anything. He just needed to do his job.

The head of the Kitakis inclined his head, face impassive. "Go ahead."

"Don't listen ta a damn thing the old grey-fur says!" From within the cage, Wocky shouted so he could be heard.

Don't pay him any mind, the Mr. Gavin inside Apollo's head commanded. Simply focus on your goal and block out the riff-raff.

"Your son claims he killed the doctor last night but your...wife," mate felt too animal and she called herself that so he'd defer to her judgement "holds firm that he couldn't have done so. What is your opinion on the matter and why?"

Winfred Kitaki watched Apollo carefully, didn't speak for a long while, and then sighed. His glamor, like his wife's, was a soft yellow color flickering close against his skin. Unlike her, his fur—when visible beneath the magic—was a salt and pepper grey with white accenting. Five tails filled out the space under his apron. Apollo could almost taste the magic like iron and tension between them.

When he finally spoke, each word was careful and slow. Winfred was not a man to waste time with pleasantries or faff, it seemed. "Wocky is rambunctious and loud, yes, but no more than any other kit his age. His fur and fangs make him stand out but we've lived in the area for decades now. We would never harm the people here. You understand, don't you?"

Two kitsune with five tails each. Their son in a cage for murder. A pending Judgement. A warning like a dangling sword.

Apollo nodded.

"The doctor wasn't popular with the humans but he regularly treated us and knew how to heal monsterkind. Nobody in our skulk would dare lay a claw on him for that alone, never mind our own internal laws." Winfred tilted his head towards his snarling son. "Not even my rambunctious, blowhard kit."

"Fuck you old man!" Wocky pressed himself against the cage, clawing and snarling at his father.

"I do hope you understand where I'm coming from."

Apollo nodded. "I do." Not a threat, a promise. Not a demand, assurance. Not retribution, but Judgement. "I still have to look into the doctor's apprentice after I'm done here, but before I leave: do you need me to maintain vigil so you can sleep?"

"Just do your job, blade of the Law, and I'll be able to rest soon enough." As close to a dismissal as he was going to get. Apollo nodded and turned to talk to the caged kitsune.

The young man snarled through the bars. "Whaddya' want?!"

"The truth." Simple, small words. If he was going to be belligerent, like a child, Apollo would talk to him like he was a child. "You killed the doctor?"

Wocky smiled, baring his fangs. "Yeah."

"Why?" That caught him off-balance. When Wocky didn't answer, Apollo pushed harder. "What would make you kill a doctor known for treating monsterkind? You'd only be hurting your skulk's reputation and threatening their safety. Not to mention that if any of you got injured—"

"Does it matter?!"

"I'd say it does." He schooled his tone Kristoph crisp, enunciating clearly for the sake of Wocky so he wouldn't be misunderstood or misheard. "Violence for violence's sake isn't something tricksters do. Noodles made of worms, rice bowls that are leaves and dirt, lying and cheating maybe. Not outright blatant murder. So why did you kill him like that? Why admit it?"

His eyes rolled wildly, the whites bright in his startled panic. Wocky's grip on the bars of his cage slackened for a brief moment before he recovered. His ears pinned back and he yipped, "Coz he pissed me off is why! Does a predator need a reason ta eat?"

"Did you eat him?" From what he'd heard, he just killed the doctor via tearing his throat out. That didn't mean he ate any of it but...

Wocky's silence was answer enough. Apollo turned back to Winfred, squaring his shoulders to try and hide how confusing this was for him.

"This shouldn't take more than a few hours. Do you think you can hold till then?" He didn't trust angry and scared humans to not kill a caged fox. Hopefully the head of the skulk could keep them at bay a bit longer while he looked for the truth of it all.

Winfred just nodded, a silent agreement. Good. Apollo turned towards where he'd been told the doctor's home was and started the walk there. As he did, he could hear Winfred say something to Wocky in a low, inaudible voice, the words mere rumbles like thunder on the wind.

Apollo wondered if being in a cage hurt. If the iron itched as it dispelled any glamor before it could form. If Wocky was just talking a big game to hide his true feelings behind false bravado.

Every time he blinked, Wocky's form was replaced with Nahyuta's—his brother, origami folded into the shape of small animal so as to not touch the bars—and he grit his teeth and tried to remain calm. It was just nerves. This wasn't personal. This wasn't him trying to make up for some offense to his family that hasn't happened, nor will ever happen. Wocky was just—

Klavier Gavin rested his hand on Apollo's shoulder. The sudden action—no matter how kind or gentle—elicited a startled yelp out of him. His face flushed as Klavier covered up his laughter with his hand, demurely turning his head to the side even as his shoulders shook with the effort of containing his mirth.

"Thanks for that." The sarcastic deflection flew from his lips like a crossbow bolt. Klavier Gavin hardly seemed bothered, however.

He tilted his head back towards the cage, eyes wide. Then he pointed to Apollo and back at the cage.

When Apollo didn't seem to understand what he was trying to communicate, he huffed and tried something else. He gestured on either side of his head, fingers pointing upwards as if they were animal ears. Then he dragged his thumb across his throat.

Oh.

"I— we don't have enough information yet. We don't know what the killing injury looks like, nor do we know anything about the victim aside from 'doctor who treated monsters as well as humans', 'the townsfolk didn't like him much', 'Alita Tiala was his assistant and the closest person to him', and 'some kind of wound to his throat killed him'." Apollo fiddled with his bracelet as he spoke. The thoughts tumbled in his head like river rocks, polishing the harsh corners away with time and wear. Seaglass and skipping stones collected on a riverbank.

Klavier Gavin listened to him talk—as quiet as he always was—but somehow it felt as though he was being more attentive than normal. He had asked for Apollo's opinion, after all. Maybe he genuinely was interested in the work Apollo did.

(Maybe he was spying on Apollo and reporting to Mr. Gavin.)

Either way, it didn't hurt to have a second set of eyes on the scene and, for all that Klavier Gavin didn't speak, it didn't mean he was stupid. He had proven himself more than capable of joking and teasing, so if he wanted to help...

"Do you..." He trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it. He needed to be careful, precise. "If you want to help, just let me know, okay?" It felt almost childish to say it like that but it's what he meant. "I'll do my best to keep an eye out for your signal or whatever."

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but it almost looked like Klavier Gavin was teary-eyed.

Whatever. He had a doctor's assistant to find.

Thankfully, the village that they were in wasn't terribly large. Barely an hour's travel from one end to the other. That was, by all accounts, tiny.

Unfortunately, the good dead doctor lived on the far edges of the village in a shack and it was uphill.

Apollo idly wondered—as he often did when forced to contend with the fact that his chosen profession required a fair amount of walking from him—if perhaps asking the gods to maybe give him less to do in places with climbing would be some kind of cheeky sacrilege or if it would be just another ignored prayer.

Apollo and Klavier Gavin found someone by Meraktis' home burning herbs and other such things in a small, contained bonfire. The smoke rose up in vibrant, aromatic plumes that made Apollo's nose wrinkle. It reminded him of the incense that choked the Temples, offerings to the Holy Mother carrying their prayers to the Twilight. Smoky talons of memory dug into his heart, squeezing it tight. He pulled the mantle and mask of Hero over his nostalgic pain and exhaled. Business. He was here on business.

Whoever was minding the fire didn't notice their approach or didn't feel threatened because they continued to toss bundles of dried plants into the fire, barely blinking as the fire belched and sputtered, smoke changing color and consistency with each flash. The dancing light flickered and cast hard shadows across their face as they pushed back loose strands of hair over their ear.

Apollo caught glimpses of an outfit akin to the ones the Kitakis were wearing, the brightly colored eastern kingdom clothing hidden beneath a more serviceable hemp apron covered in ash and dirt and plant residue. They wore a patterned scarf wrapped around their neck, embroidered clovers a sea of emerald with flashes of cream and lavender blossoms among the leaves. As they knelt down to toss another bundle of fuel into the fire, they paused and finally seemed to notice Apollo and Klavier Gavin, straightening up and turning to face them both.

Apollo's bracelet pinched his wrist. He tried his best to not let his discomfort be seen.

"Hey there!" The person gave them a tight-lipped smile, eyes curving in polite amusement even as they watched the two of them with a discerning gaze. "I'm afraid that Dr. Meraktis is no longer available. How can I help you?"

Apollo folded a hand in front of his waist and bowed how Mr. Gavin taught him: a sharp forty-five degree angle towards her to show respect. "My name is Apollo Justice. I was passing through town when I was informed about the passing of Dr. Meraktis and was asked to arbitrate Judgement on the matter. Are you miss Alita Tiala?"

"That's me," she tilted her head, a strand of auburn hair slipped from her bun and she tucked it behind her ear. "How can I help Ser Justice?"

Ser. The title sent an electric rush of delight through Apollo but he kept his professional face on. "You were the closest person to the deceased, were you not?"

She nodded. Adjusting her scarf slightly, she knelt down and began to toss more dried herbs in the fire. "I was his assistant. After I moved to town—not too long ago, mind—I was looking for work. Knew my herbs and poultices so I was an obvious hire." A flash of smoke, the smell of bitter medicine. The fire cackled as it devoured the plants fed to it.

"What can you tell us about him?"

"Dr. Meraktis wasn't a nice man but he did his job." A wry grin crossed her face. "Sometimes he'd charge more than his talent was worth but when the nearest Temple is a carriage-ride away, well..."

It didn't take much to understand what she was insinuating.

"He treated the Kitaki skulk?" That had been something the two elder kitsune had admitted to, although their mixed opinions of him had been...odd to say the least.

Miss Tiala laughed, a sharp noise that almost sounded like the bark of a fox—though she was human as they came. "Ha! Yeah, he treated them. Was the only healer in the area that didn't care if you were monster or human, so long as you could pay. The Kitaki skulk are rich and old. They paid well." Her thumb absently brushed against a ring on her finger, a self-soothing gesture.

Something about how she said that felt...pointed. "Was there bad blood between him and the Kitakis?" Obviously the townsfolk disliked him—it was an easy conclusion to draw based on how close to the border he lived and how Miss Tiala seemed wary of everyone, not just the local kitsune—but the way that Winfred had spoken almost made it sound like they appreciated the late doctor's work and wanted to keep him around.

Regardless of his thought processes, Miss Tiala almost seemed amused by his question. "Nobody liked Doctor Meraktis. Part and parcel of knowing him."

That wasn't what he had asked. "Not even you?"

She raised an eyebrow and turned back to her work. "I wouldn't be out here, burning bundles of herbs so the locals don't decide to overdose on belladonna if I didn't care, now would I?"

"You said you moved to town? So you're not local then?"

"Unfortunately." Whether she was talking about moving or not being a local was unclear. Either way, she sighed—a dramatic and loud one—and watched Apollo out of the corner of her eyes as she continued to burn herbs. "The doctor and I are both from an area a couple dozen days north of here. One of those mountainside towns. He shacked up here long before I even considered leaving and, well, he's the only one I knew from home that made it big without being nobility, so..."

"You must be talented, to have aided him for so long." Any amount of time, no matter how small, was a long time to be an apprentice of anyone.

Miss Tiala shrugged. Her lips curled into a pert bow, obviously pleased at the praise. "Herbs is herbs is herbs is herbs. You just need to remember that and your livestock care and its about as easy to patch up a human as it is a cow."

Apollo wasn't a doctor but even to his untrained ear that sounded wrong. At his elbow, barely visible, Klavier Gavin stifled a pinched, terse smile. He too, apparently, found the idea somewhat concerning.

"Still..."

Taking a respite from burning herbs, Miss Tiala stood up and dusted her hands against her apron, leaving streaks of soot and dirt and plant matter on the coarse woven fabric. "Was that all you needed, Ser Justice?"

"Do you have any idea what happened last night? You're the only person close to the deceased and, as such, likely the only person who knows where he was and what he could've been doing that led up to his...death."

A momentary pause. She tugged on the ends of her scarf, rolling the hem of the fabric between her fingers. "Couldn't say. Meraktis and I were doing inventory last night—checking our stocks to see what I had to pick up from the merchants and what I had to go out and harvest from the area—and that was the last I saw him." A tight pressure against his wrist, a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. "I woke up, same as always, and went to go pick up our list when I saw they had Wocky locked up."

Hm. "You're on a first-name basis with the heir to the Kitaki skulk?"

She blinked at him, doe-eyed. "Oh, yeah. He, uh, and I are involved."

In the corner of his vision, Klavier Gavin's mouth thinned, brows quickly smoothing out as he tried to hide his expression. He had frowned? It was a microsecond, but it had been there. Anyone else would have missed it save Apollo.

"Involved?" Apollo asked, despite knowing what she was getting at. He needed her to say it, same as anything else. The words needed to be spoken to be Judged. Themis—or Nemesis or any of the Gods of Law, whatever Their names might be—isn't a mind reader. She has good ears, true, but that's the point of an arbiter. Her hand moved to the world, Her eyes and ears to Judge, Her will manifest with blade and scales clenched in their fists.

"It's scandalous, I know, but he was so kind to me, in spite of it all—"

"I assume the Kitaki skulk have been taking care of you, then?" She hadn't mentioned her own home, just the doctor's. Considering she had admitted to being from the same area as Doctor Meraktis, the most logical conclusion was that.

"Yeah," as she said that her face twisted in an unreadable way, like she ate something sour, "Lady Plum and Lord Winfred were incredibly generous." Her thumb ran along the ring.

"And you're planning to leave? Just like that?"

Miss Tiala fixed him with a steady look, all iron and clinical observation. "The townsfolk don't like outsiders and they sure don't like the doctor or the kitsune. I'm associated with both. Save you finding proof Wocky didn't do it—and I know he didn't, he's too sweet to hurt anyone like that, no matter what he says—they're going to kill him. I don't want to be here when Lady Plum and Lord Winfred decide they're done playing nice."

The implication there was crystal clear. It's not as though the skulk heads hadn't insinuated as such themselves. If Wocky was killed—

Two kitsune with ten tails between them and a whole skulk of lesser-tailed foxes would likely slaughter everyone here.

(They'd be well within their rights. It would be Just. It made Apollo's body tense up just to think about the aftermath, let alone the act itself.)

"Before you go..." Apollo began, then paused. What else did he need to know? What would help him determine what was Just here? What could he ask to get more information? "You and Wocky are involved, you said? I assume that's what the ring is for?"

Her thumb brushed the band even as she tensed up and flashed Apollo a smile that felt a little too bright. "Yeah. He wanted to try and court like humans do so he gave me this ring. It's like an engagement thing? Or a promise ring? Either or. Sweet, isn't he?"

"Can I see?" He held his hand out, palm up. She placed her hand in his, delicate, as if she wanted him to kiss the back of it. "Thank you."

The ring was a simple iron band engraved with precise geometric runes. Wards—against curses, against scrying, against enchantment—flickered in silvery magic through the grooves of the runes.

"It's lovely."

"He wasn't sure how humans court, but he knew about rings. At first he wanted to weave me one out of flowers and magic it to look real but when I pointed out how it might wither he went with something more permanent." She placed her ringed hand against her cheek, demurely smiling at the memory. "He might be rough around the edges, my Wocky, but I've never met anyone like him."

That might as well be true. This village, for all it was nothing special on the surface, was surprisingly full of kitsune. Other places were less openly saturated with monsters. "I'm happy for you. I just hope I can find the truth so you and Wocky can continue your engagement."

Miss Tiala laughed, a tittering sound. "He didn't do it. I don't know why he keeps saying he did but he's too sweet to hurt anyone, even Meraktis." A pause, her finger tapped against her cheek, she tugged at her scarf. "Not without good reason, anyway."

Good reason.

Apollo straightened up and gave Miss Tiala a smile. "Thank you for your cooperation. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to let me know. Actually—" He turned to look at Klavier Gavin, praying he would understand, "if you like I can lend you Klavier Gavin."

She frowned. "Who?"

Apollo gestured at Klavier Gavin. "He's...my manservant. While he can't speak, he's good at manual labor and taking directions. If you need to retrieve your things, he can help you." Not won't, can't. The distinction mattered.

Klavier Gavin's eyes widened. Then, just as suddenly, his expression settled back into his normal neutral placidity. He gave Miss Tiala a bow and charming grin, the expression almost blinding with how dazzling it was.

"You'd be willing to let me borrow him?" She asked Apollo.

"If you want," Apollo replied. "The rest of my investigation and inquiries can be done without him and you seem like you've got a lot of work ahead of you." She had, after all, been emptying out the victim's house and was planning to skip town. If she needed to pack, extra hands would be useful.

She pretended to think, the way she pursed her lips a dead giveaway to the insincerity of her actions, before nodding. "If you're offering, I'd love the help." Her grin was near-predatory, hungry as her eyes raked across the entirety of Klavier Gavin's body. "Thank you Ser Justice. Mr. Gavin."

Both of them smiled at her. Apollo's felt far less tense than Klavier Gavin's but Miss Tiala didn't seem to notice or care. She just went back to burning herbs, the ever-changing smoke blotting out the midday sun.

"I suppose I'll see you in the square for the Judgement then?"

"I suppose." She sounded as thrilled at the prospect as he was.

"Do keep Miss Tiala safe, okay?" Apollo met Klavier Gavin's blue eyes and held contact for what felt like forever. Did he understand? Did he know what was being asked of him? Was he aware of why Apollo had lied like that?

Klavier Gavin nodded, once, his mask slipping slightly as something serious showed itself on his face. Good.

Now to figure out the rest of the truth.

Time to go see the body.

"You're lucky he didn't have a family plot." Apollo stared at the wooden casket as the gravekeeper tore the nails out of the lid while he talked. "If he had, he'd be in the dirt by now."

"Thank you for allowing me to examine the body." He hadn't done this often—dead bodies lay at the intersection where person became object and it always made him uncomfortable—but Mr. Gavin had made sure he knew as much about medicine and corpses as he could. It was good knowledge, helpful for Judgements. And, if he knew what could kill, he could protect against it. "I know this must be unusual."

"Not every day the foxes get accused so openly." What a strange man, to be more concerned about the Kitakis than the paladin of Law who was standing nearby. "They've always kept their heads down, even if folks don't like 'em."

"Oh?"

The gravekeeper put the removed nails in his apron pocket and moved to the other side of the casket. "Growing up here, most folks think of the foxes as nuisances but they're honest nuisances. Just like the big fox over in Nine Tails Vale, they're protectors—or that's what my ma said. She'd know better 'n most."

"Would she?" It wasn't just idle conversation. Knowing the history of this village and the Kitaki skulk would help.

"Far as she says: one day when she was a baby girl, some beast from the mountains tried to eat the villagers. The head foxes—Lady Plum and Lord Winfred—fought the beast off. Most folks say it's because this is their land but my ma swears it's because foxes can be guardians as easily as they can be tricksters."

Guardians or monsters. Apollo scratched at the inside of his palm, mouth pursed tight as he thought about that story. "They don't cause problems?"

"No more 'n anyone else around here does." Another nail was dropped in an apron pocket. Another rotation along the edge of the casket. "The young ones—kits, I think they call 'em—are loud and busy but they're not any worse than human kids. Just different."

Different...

"They die the same as humans do, anyway." The gravekeeper spoke so softly that Apollo almost couldn't hear him. Almost.

He cracked the casket open and stepped to the side, sliding his claw hammer into a loop on his apron belt. Apollo respectfully waited for him to give the go-ahead before he bothered looking at the body. There was no need to rush this matter. The man was already dead, after all, and you respect the dead.

"Be quick, alright?" Apollo nodded and closed the distance with a few decisive steps.

Doctor Meraktis was an older gentleman. His grey hair was wispy and stringy, pulled back in a leather tie so it wasn't in his face or on his neck, but somehow managed to break free in tendrils that grasped for any bit of skin they could touch. His eyes were closed, peaceful in his eternal rest, skin worn with furrows marking his age and favored expressions. His work made his body a map of scars and stains and calluses.

His throat was slit, pressed back together for his burial, the mouth of the wound puckered closed with a macabre line of stitches in wax-coated thread.

It didn't look a thing like a bite wound.

"You dressed the body?" Apollo gently circled the casket, trying to not touch too much.

"Yeah." The gravekeeper frowned. "Worried about something?"

"His neck—"

The gravekeeper didn't move from his spot, just fell silent.

"A bite wound would be more jagged. A hole, not a tear. There's not enough of a rough edge for it to be claws either." Apollo leaned over to get a better look. "This was a man-made wound."

"You think?" A town full of people who dislike the doctor and the kitsune. He'd be an easy target.

Apollo continued to poke around, moving the corpse as gently as he could. Rigor mortis had long passed, the joints softened and pliable, so he didn't have to worry about breaking anything, but still. Every time his skin grazed the waxen surface of Meraktis' he sent the man's spirit a silent apology.

"Nothing in his pockets or on his person?" Not that he assumed the gravekeeper was in the business of stealing from the dead. Even if people didn't openly worship any of the gods, they tended to be superstitious. If the Heavens didn't strike you down for desecration of a corpse, you could easily have a curse laid upon you by the spirit of the deceased. It just never hurt to ask, after all.

It had to be said aloud so Themis could hear.

"Nothing but his house key, which young Miss Alita picked up."

Apollo turned over Meraktis' hands and paused. Across his palms, intersecting calluses and medicinal burns, was a strip of raw flesh. The edges were pale, the center a torn, raw pink, and it followed a very obvious line between his thumb and down across the meat of his palm. It was patchy, as if whatever he had been gripping had bit into his hands unevenly.

Apollo folded his hands back in the casket and tried to understand what this all meant.

There's no physical proof that Wocky killed Doctor Meraktis. If he had torn the man's throat out, the wound would be shaped differently. There would have been fur under his fingernails as he fought back. There would be blood or some other remnant on his person and yet—

Why was Wocky insisting he did it? What could he possibly gain from being caged and killed?

The Kitakis wouldn't lay a finger on the man because he helped them and because they were protectors more than they were nuisances. The townsfolk insist that the foxes did it so it's unlikely to be a lynching of any sort. So who—?

Apollo stiffened. He needed to get back to the town square as quickly as possible.

"Thank you for your assistance." He said as he gave the gravekeeper a hurried bow.

"Glad to have been helpful." The gravekeeper moved to close Meraktis' casket back up. Then he paused. "Should I—?"

"Please. I might—" Actually, wait. "So that he doesn't have to suffer the indignation of being laid bare before the Heavens."

Keep your composure, Justice. The Mr. Gavin in Apollo's head chided, whipcrack and ice. If you panic, they panic. You are a bastion, a rock, and if you fall apart then you're no better than a rotting foundation holding up a temple to your goddess.

Time was of the essence. This whole place was a powder keg and all it was going to take was one stray spark.

Apollo ran as fast as he could, his armor clanking and clamoring as he broke into the growing, roiling crowd surrounding the cage. Winfred stood firm, blood running down his forehead—matting the fur beneath his glamor—and yet unmoving.

In the cage, Wocky snarled and snapped at his father. "Are you stupid old man? What's the point a takin' stones for me? I already said I did it!"

Winfred didn't speak, just stood there, a wall between his son and the townsfolk with their artillery of rocks. Apollo could see dozens of impacts, blood oozing from shallow cuts and scrapes, skin coloring as it bruised. How long had he been doing this?

Vigil indeed.

"Good people of Ninjou!" Apollo shouted, breathing deep and using every bit of his Chords of Steel to be heard. "Stop this! I have finished my inquiry and have found the truth of the matter!"

Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Apollo felt small, stripped bare of his armor and weapon, a rat among cats.

They're nothing, Mr. Gavin whispered. Less than nothing. If you fear them, they've already won. You're better than them, Justice, as you are the Law.

He straightened his posture and walked to stand by Winfred and the cage. "Your acts of violence in fear are unwarranted."

"Fuckin' assholes!" Wocky snarled. "Hurl rocks at me, if you're gonna! I killed the old fuck, after all."

"No you didn't." Silence ate at the space around them, a vacuum that absorbed any movement into its vast swathe of stillness. Wocky's ears pinned against his head and he bared his fangs at Apollo. The crowd bristled and reached for their weapons. Winfred watched him with a silent, immovable sort of interest.

Do not waver. You know better than them.

"The fuck d'you mean? Of course I did! I said I did." Wocky gripped the cage bars and pressed his snout through, snorting with the exertion. "You callin' me a liar?"

"I am saying you're lying, yes." Apollo turned to face the gathered mob and steeled himself. "The kitsune of the Kitaki skulk have made their stance regarding harming the people of Ninjou very clear: this is their place, their people, and they do not take kindly to those that break their rules. Wocky Kitaki, despite his age and temperament, is one such kitsune. After looking into the matter, I can with great certainty confirm that whatever killed the doctor was man-made. It was not a beast that ripped his throat out, but a blade that slit it."

The crowd muttered amongst itself, mumbling dissent and sharp confusion, but never let their weapons fall. He hasn't convinced them yet. He just has to keep talking.

"I used my claws to tear—"

"No you didn't." Apollo wasn't letting Wocky get a word in edgewise. "The wound was too clean, too thin. If you used your claws, there'd be a series of marks, not one slash. Additionally—and the gravekeeper can confirm this—the edges of the fatal wound are too clean to be claws."

"Who the fuck are you ta tell me I'm wrong?!" Wocky pressed against the bars of the cage and snarled. The crowd shifted, worried, but Winfred's stoic immobility and Apollo's lack of a reaction kept them from acting again. "If I said I killed the damn man, I killed him! What kinda' two-bit fucking scale-wearing jackass are you?"

"I am an arbiter of Law." Apollo wouldn't budge. He couldn't budge. He needed to remain resolute and firm so he could maintain control over the situation. One wrong move and the town would try and kill the kitsune and then, well, it would be out of his hands. "The townsfolk asked I Judge the criminal and I have found you to be innocent. Stop taking blame for someone else's actions, Wocky Kitaki."

"So who killed the man?" Winfred spoke up at last, steady and seemingly unbothered by his myriad small wounds.

Showtime. "After consideration and investigation, I believe the true culprit to be one Alita Tiala."

"The hell'd you say?!" Wocky lunged forward and snarled at Apollo, claws raking for any bit of him he could reach. "You keep my girl's name outta your damn mouth, lawman, 'fore I tear your throat out too!"

"Wocky."

Even his father's admonishing wasn't enough. "You think you can just waltz in here and just talk big game, all Scales and Law and Judgement and shit, and get away with it?! You think I'm gonna take this laying down?"

"You would burn for a girl who isn't here defending you?" Apollo directed his gaze out to the slowly growing crowd. Among the humans he could pick out dozens of foxes, their glamors flickering with their emotions, and even Lil' Plum was watching from the far border.

Alita Tiala was nowhere to be found.

Hopefully Klavier Gavin had been incentive enough to keep her from skipping town outright.

"She's just—"

"She might have spoken vocally in your favor when I talked about you, but she didn't take vigil with your father. She didn't prove she cared enough to take a stone for you, but you care enough to die for her." It felt cruel to say but he needed the kitsune to understand where he was coming from. "That hardly seems fair, does it?"

"Goddesses of Law do love too, huh? Who died and made you the judge of that?"

"Regardless of your or my feelings on the matter, I have proof Miss Tiala is the culprit." He turned his attention back to the crowd, away from Wocky. Behind him, he could hear Wocky yipping angrily and clawing at him.

Back straight. Be firm. Speak the Truth. Judge with impartiality.

"Do you?" Stepping out of the throng, eyes already swimming with tears, Alita Tiala clutched at her scarf as she came to the forefront of the Judgement. Keeping pace behind her, Klavier Gavin quickly passed her to settle at his usual spot by Apollo's elbow.

"Thank you for appearing, Miss Tiala." Apollo glanced at Klavier Gavin, trying to gauge if he had managed to get anything useful. Judging by how he was already wearing the same placid smile he did when at Mr. Gavin's office, it was unlikely.

Damn.

"I came to return your manservant and here you are accusing me?" Waterworks in full effect, Apollo bit his cheek to offset the tension in his wrist. "I thought you understood me!"

"I am an impartial arbiter of Themis' Law—"

She cut him off. "From where I'm standing, you seem to be pretty partial to the foxes, or at least biased against me."

A wave of dissent snaked through the crowd, the humans echoing her point in discontent waves. The foxes—those hiding in plain sight and those less-glamored—either kept mum or tried to hide amongst the rabble. The tone of the gathering was shifting the scales further from the truth.

"Would you allow me to present my case?" A Judgement was, by its nature, a  somewhat informal event, but one with rules to how it worked. Like an actual court appearance—no matter the level—there was an ebb and flow to the information, but rarely was there this type of pushback.

If she wanted to contest his claims, then they'd do so under the watchful gaze of Themis, Law in full effect. He would Call Judgement and demand She watch their proceedings.

"Aren't you the lawman, Ser Justice?" Now the honorific was bitter vitriol, derisive and pointed. Ser, as if he was ever deserving of her respect.

How quickly her façade peeled away when the slightest bit of pressure was applied. Like paint bubbling due to heat, the truth warped and distorted her pretty features.

"People of Ninjou!" Address the crowd, get their attention, and then dominate their mood. Perfect professional poise. "As stated before: the fatal wound that ended Dr. Meraktis' life was a singular slice, too clean to be a fox's claw and certainly not this young kit's fangs. However, I believe the doctor's own apprentice slit his throat and, due to his affections for her, the Kitaki's heir is intent on taking the blame to spare her the harm."

Alita Tiala quickly jumped in to argue with Apollo, her plaintive voice as loud as Apollo's. "I already told you: Wocky didn't kill the doctor but you're blaming me? What did I even do to you to deserve this?"

"I'm not acting in malice—"

"Could've fooled me!"

"—but out of everyone in the area, you had the most contact with the man and the most to lose." This was the difficult part. Most people didn't have to convince angry crowds that someone was guilty based on minute information like ticks and twitches. "Consider, if you will, your ring."

"My ring?" Alita Tiala flashed the band towards the crowd, drawing their attention.

"You said that was a gift from Wocky, was it not? A sort of promise ring or engagement ring?" That had been her exact wording but the important part was how Wocky would react. "Do you recognize the band, Wocky?"

Fangs bared, the young kitsune didn't want to cooperate. "Fuck you."

"Wocky," his father warned.

"Fuck you too, old man. I ain't saying shit!"

"I don't need you to." Apollo could feel the crowd's attention and mood waning, pulling away from the direction he wanted it to be. He had to act fast. "I can say with some certainty that you haven't ever seen it before because it's specifically made to ward against tricksters and all the things they can do. In fact: the metal it's made of would likely burn away any glamor with a mere graze."

The less human members of the crowd began to mutter among themselves, even if the humans remained unmoved. It wasn't the majority, but he'd have to take what he could get.

"So?" Alita Tiala sneered. As quickly as the mean expression crossed her face, it was replaced with a wretched faux-sorrow, crocodile tears leaving clean streaks down the soot that coated her cheeks. "It was a gift! Why are you like this? Do all lawmen like picking on defenseless women?"

Apollo's eye was drawn to how she tugged at her scarf as she said that. "Hardly."

"Could've fooled me."

At his elbow, Klavier Gavin tensed. It was, as with all of the man's expressions, relatively subtle but Apollo was predisposed to notice subtle expressions.

There was something there, something Apollo wasn't privy to that Klavier Gavin knew.

(Why wasn't he speaking up? Why was he remaining silent? Apollo had assumed they had a fairly amicable relationship but—)

"When I encountered you, you had been burning the herbs that Doctor Meraktis had in his home, the ones used in his trade."

"I didn't want the people of Ninjou to get hurt if the foxes set fire to the doctor's house!" Wocky, notably, didn't say anything as she quickly tossed his people beneath the carriage.

"I would warrant that you were also burning paperwork." A guess at best.

"Your proof? You're just accusing me of other things too?" Her voice pitched and cracked, fake tears increasing in intensity.

"I—"

"So far you've only accused me with no concrete proof!" Alita Tiala cut him off before he could try and recover momentum. "First the doctor's murder and then the idea that I was doing something bad with his house?! What kind of crooked scale-bearer are you?!"

The crowd echoed her dissent, picked up and magnified her indignation. What little traction he had managed to gather slipped from his fingers.

He truly didn't have anything concrete. He couldn't say that the Kitaki heads both distrusted Alita Tiala. He couldn't use the ring as proof of nefarious intent even if he knew it was indicative of a purpose far less benign than romantic attraction. He had nothing but feelings and circumstantial links that implied Alita Tiala had done it.

The people of Ninjou wouldn't take implied evidence. They wanted Wocky stoned or they wanted hard proof.

He was losing this uphill battle.

"You know," Alita Tiala's voice said from behind Apollo, "it's a pity things went the way they did. That fox has such pretty fur. Now it's ruined."

Alita Tiala hadn't spoken. Her mouth was hanging open, face pale and panicked as she stared past Apollo at Klavier Gavin.

Apollo turned to face the mute man with confusion to match her fury.

Klavier Gavin's eyes glittered with a deep purple color the same shade as the suit he wore, his skin ashen pale with cold sweat. He opened his mouth—he opened his mouth!—and spoke, Alita Tiala's words spilling from his lips. "The idiot jostled my crossbow and the bolt went wide. Grazed his ribs and tore up his pretty fur. Now there's no salvaging it, assuming the town doesn't make it worse by stoning him to death."

"I—" Alita Tiala glared at Apollo. "You said he couldn't speak!"

"A mute man isn't a deaf one," he countered. He was just as confused as she was but...this was bardic magic, wasn't it? Mimicry? Or, no, repetition of things the bard had heard. An echo. But why—

Why now? What—?

The pale sheen on Klavier Gavin's skin, the way he kept playing with his rings, the tension that was choking Apollo's wrist. He didn't want to do this.

Klavier Gavin doesn't speak. Not can't, doesn't. It's a choice.

Why?

He continued on, Alita Tiala's voice as frustrated as before. "I suppose I'm lucky the little stole thinks I'm cute. Did you know that the doctor was planning on undercutting my pay? All because he thought I was going to sell him out to the foxes so I'd keep the full price. Ha!" Gone was the demure woman she presented herself to be. In Klavier Gavin's echo, she was a sharp-tongued woman with a mean streak. The truth was laid bare. "Like I'd ever work with the damn animals."

"A-alita?" She didn't answer Wocky, too busy shaking with what Apollo assumed was a mixture of rage and fear.

"You can't say this is proof," she hissed. She wasn't wrong but...

Klavier Gavin wasn't done yet. "It came to blows. I missed the shot because of him and he thought I did it on purpose. He wrapped the net we were going to use on the stole around my throat and started strangling me. Luckily: I keep a knife on hand." The way she seemed completely unrepentant made Apollo bristle, tension unrelated to anyone else's leaving his shoulders aching. "It was so easy to sob and wail and tell that idiot animal that the mean old doctor tried to hurt me when I tried to keep him from getting shot. Oh, boo-hoo, woe is me. If the townsfolk know I killed him, surely they'll be furious! Then he said he'd be my fall-guy. Isn't that so sweet?"

Wocky's horrified silence lent Klavier Gavin's echo credence.

"This is all hearsay! Magic can lie, so can you - you short little lawman!" The problem was that she wasn't wrong but...

"Prove it."

She hadn't been expecting him to remain so level-headed. Perhaps she had hoped, same as when she'd sweet-talked Wocky, he'd be tripping over himself to find some amicable way to keep everyone happy.

She'd severely misjudged him in that regard.

(In the back of Apollo's head, in the place where his Oath lay branded on his soul, he felt Nemesis growl in frustration. She was the goddess of revenge, yes, but also of balance. Of equality. An eye for an eye. If Alita Tiala had known he was sworn to Nemesis, surely she would've tried a different tack but...well truly that was the point to parading the scales around, wasn't it?)

"You say this is nothing more than a trick to side with the kitsune, then prove it isn't."

"H-how?"

"That voice - that echo we heard said that the doctor tried to strangle you with a net." Again, Apollo raised his voice so the whole crowd could hear him. This was it, the turning point. "The gravekeeper can testify that Doctor Meraktis had what appeared to be some kind of rope burn on his hands. If this is a lie, then show us your neck." Her hand went to her scarf, her grimace thinning as she tried to mask her panic. "Unless...it isn't a lie and you have the marks to prove it?"

"You have no right—"

"I am ordained by the Heavens, under the watchful eye of Themis, to Judge this case in accordance with the Law." Each word was a sword strike against her defense. No quarter. "Your people asked I Judge and I am. You, personally, demanded I Call Judgement and this is the binding of the rite itself. I, personally, cannot utter falsehoods and all heard here is within the purview of Themis Herself. If you want to prove your innocence, do so in front of Themis and the whole of Ninjou." Maybe he was taking delight in taking her down but...

The callous way she called the kitsune 'animals' made him angry.

He wasn't Oathbound to Themis for a reason.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Ever-grey Nemesis suited his needs better.

Alita Tiala refused to take off her scarf; she didn't even bother trying to defend herself. Instead, she just laughed, long and loud.

"Any more parlor tricks, prettyboy?"

Klavier Gavin winced. Still, his eyes glowed that rich purple, and Alita Tiala's words came forth once more. "I'm lucky, you know? If you'd showed up at the fire but a moment earlier, you'd've seen me tossing the bolt and some custom orders into the fire with the herbs. Nothing more scandalous than a pelt or fang, mind, but we had someone close to the capital that wanted a live one. That was going to be a hard order to fill, even without the foxes on high-alert."

"You were trafficking monsters?"

"Poaching," she corrected. "The only order we had for a live one was that one pervert and we fell apart before we could even properly kill the Kitaki brat."

Wocky slammed against the bars of the cage he was in. "Tell me this is an act!" His ears were flat against his head, pupils blown in some mix of pain and sorrow.

"Why?" She didn't even bother pretending any more. She'd been caught. The jig was up. "With the scar from the whole deal, your pelt is ruined. It was the only good thing about you."

He fell back on his haunches and pressed a paw to his ribs, near his heart. A bit of blood oozed out across his haori, staining the rich purple fabric. A whimper escaped his mouth—whether it was one of pain or panic was unclear.

Alita Tiala continued on, unbothered. "So don't bother labeling me a trafficker. Every monster I helped sell was dead as a doornail. No ifs, ands, or buts." Every monster. She'd done it before, likely with Meraktis' help. Apollo fought back a wave of rage on the kitsune's behalf, tried to separate his own ever-encroaching past from the present issue.

"Before Themis and all gathered here, let me summarize what actually occurred so as to verify my Judgement." Rites had a tempo to them. The denouement of Calling Judgement was as such. "You and the doctor were poaching monsters. For one reason or another you targeted the kitsune of Ninjou, primarily the Kitakis' sole heir. An argument occurred, you misfired your crossbow and missed Wocky's heart, the iron and peachwood bolt grazing his side. The doctor attempted to strangle you with a net and, in self defense, you slit his throat with your knife." There were blanks there—Truth didn't mean everything, after all—but Apollo heard no protest from the crowd, so he continued. "You convinced Wocky to take the fall for you after lying to him about the reason for your argument with Doctor Meraktis. Then you eliminated all evidence that might've shown your involvement with the poaching and planned to skip town while Wocky was killed by the townsfolk. Is this True?"

"More or less."

"Is there additional information you wish to declare before Judgement?"

"A couple things, of course." Alita Tiala sneered at him. "First: the bolt wasn't a complete misfire, just a little off-target. The plan had been to bury the bolt in his chest, have the doctor 'fix' it, then wait out the peachwood and iron poisoning him. A nice clean heal, a nice clean death, a pretty pelt for the customer." Disgust rippled through the crowd from monster and human alike, her callous disregard for life nauseating for both sides. "Second: skipping town wasn't to avoid being around for Wocky getting executed. It was to not get caught up in the aftermath, when the kitsune decided to stop playing domesticated."

That made sense. Lil' Plum and Winfred had both insinuated that, had Wocky died, they would have exacted their own Judgement. Apollo himself had agreed that it would have been Just, even if he hadn't done so out loud.

"Anything else?" Alita remained tight-lipped so Apollo took that as his cue. "Then, with the power given to me by the Heavens, as arbiter of Judgement, arm of Themis Herself, I declare this to be the Truth: Alita Tiala is at fault for the murder of Doctor Meraktis. Wocky of the Kitaki skulk is innocent and should be released. The people of Ninjou have full reign as to Miss Tiala's punishment, though balance demands the kitsune's voices be heard to render it Just." The weight of the rite settled around Apollo, the finality of his words tangible to even the least magically inclined of the townsfolk.

It was done at last. Now Apollo and Klavier Gavin could get their mule and get back on the road to the Demon King's castle.

(The less time he lingered on this whole mess, the better.)

Allowing the people of Ninjou to determine Alita Tiala's punishment had been done for two different reasons. The first was, while Nemesis was his Oathbound goddess, Apollo didn't feel comfortable enacting Judgement while lying about whose name he was doing it under. The second was that the kitsune of Ninjou deserved to balance the scales due to how Alita Tiala had personally targeted them.

If Apollo had punished Alita Tiala, he wasn't sure he could do so without thinking about other things.

He didn't want his past to determine her future—or lack thereof, knowing him.

Still, Klavier Gavin and him quickly packed up their things and headed out of town before her punishment was agreed upon. Neither of them—or so Apollo was assuming, based on how genuinely uncomfortable Klavier Gavin had looked throughout the entire Call to Judgement—wanted to spend any more time there than was necessary. It was already an unplanned detour and had put their estimated travel time off by about a day and a half.

Thankfully, the townsfolk didn't care to try and stop them or offer him thanks for acting as Law for their internal conflict. The kitsune—namely the heads of the Kitaki skulk—foisted a large amount of well-made baked goods on them with thanks and praise by the baker's dozen.

"You ever wind up in Ninjou again, you're set for life." Lil Plum patted Apollo's shoulder with a heavy hand and laughed as he flinched. "We'll never forget what you've done for us. Wocky too, isn't that right?"

The younger kitsune, despite his shock, nodded. His ears were flat against his head, tail limp with frustration or maybe even grief, but he wasn't swearing or fighting back.

It was sad, if not understandable.

Winfred stepped up to his son and looked down at Apollo and Klavier Gavin, his stern face still as unreadable as before. "We can never repay you for the kindness you showed us. If it weren't for you, our boy would be dead and we would've done something unforgivable."

"It's nothing, really."

"Learn to take praise, little lawman!" Lil Plum interjected. "We mean it."

"Th-thanks..."

Apollo stared as Winfred and Plum both dropped their glamors, laying their true forms bare. Both kitsune—and their son—bowed deep, snouts pointed at the ground.

"Safe travels," Winfred called out.

And then they were gone.

Going from Ninjou to the roads again was a jarring transition but not an unwelcome one. Apollo had always preferred the wilderness to civilization but also...

It was a little uncharitable of him but he had come to dislike the people of Ninjou, the skulk notwithstanding. Not all of them were bad but...the speed at which all the humans decided that the kitsune—monsters, true, but monsters that had peacefully lived in their town for generations without causing problems—were at fault was horrifying. It wasn't as though Apollo was so naive as to think that people would readily accept monsters as anything other than malevolent but it was...a little too similar to home.

So he was glad to put the mountain town far behind him, even if the wake of those events left the space between himself and Klavier Gavin even more awkward than before.

He was a bard. He was a good bard, judging by how much of that conversation he had echoed. He had a good memory and good control over his magic, barely any of it doing anything he didn't want it to.

So why—?

'He doesn't speak,' Mr. Gavin had said. Not can't, not won't, doesn't. Apollo had long-since accommodated for his mute companion, never once thinking too hard on why it was a seemingly voluntary silence, but now he had due cause for concern.

Why did Klavier Gavin not speak if he was a bard? And why did he help Apollo, even as it made him wildly uncomfortable to do so?

The silence between the two of them was only broken during their first day's rest after leaving Ninjou, during dinner. Apollo had, as always, scavenged up some wild plants and mushrooms to add to their cheap rations—immensely grateful for the pastries the kitsune had given them, if only for a source of bread and sweets—and threw it together over a fire. The two of them sat on the ground and ate like they always did, their camp for the day uphill a little ways, the mule grazing happily.

Apollo had had enough time to sort his thoughts out and, before the rational part of his brain—or the bit that sounded like Mr. Gavin or even Trucy—overtook his thoughts before he said them out loud, he asked, "Why did you help me?"

Klavier Gavin tensed. Apollo didn't need to feel the pinch at his arm to notice the tension that drew his shoulders taut like a yoke, he was obviously uncomfortable with and-or taken aback by Apollo's question.

"I mean, I don't mind." Apollo tried to course-correct a bit, floundering with all the grace of a land-bound carp. "It was - you were super helpful, after all, it's just..."

The tension didn't leave Klavier Gavin but his expression lightened. Brows pinching as he thought it over, the man put another forkful of food in his mouth while he tried to determine the best way to communicate his thoughts. Eventually, he pointed at Apollo, then pantomimed angrily throwing a rock, then mockingly mimicked the way Alita Tiala would press her hand to her cheek sometimes.

Vague...

"Because I had already figured it out?" Klavier Gavin shook his head. "She obviously did it?" Another shake. "I'm sorry, I can't, uh—"

Something sad crossed Klavier Gavin's face but he put his food down and grabbed a stick from the kindling pile. Then, using the stick to write in the dirt nearby in a very pretty and legible script, he explained. "You wanted to help."

"Because of me?" Apollo watched as Klavier Gavin nodded in affirmation and then wiped out what he wrote with his foot and began again.

"It would've been easier to leave the second they asked for your help." Klavier Gavin let Apollo read it before erasing it and writing more. "It would've been just as easy to say the Kitaki kit did it but you didn't. You wanted true Justice. I wanted to help."

"O-oh..." To think that it had been as simple as that. Admiration. Pursuit of Justice.

"I think you're an excellent hero. I'm honored to be working with you."

Apollo could feel his cheeks and ears flush bright red. Dammit all...now was not the time to be taken aback! Focus, Justice! "I didn't know you were a bard."

That elicited a very obvious display of emotion from Klavier Gavin. Pain and sorrow, mostly, but also guilt. He scuffed out his previous line in the dirt and wrote, "I don't like to advertise it. It's di—" He quickly erased what he was writing. "There's a good reason I don't talk if I can help it."

He doesn't talk and it's tied to his magic? But he had such fine control over it when he was echoing Alita Tiala! What—?

Oh. A bard's primary magical influence was sound, usually music. It stood to reason that Klavier Gavin was a singer then, not an orator. He chose not to speak but would if pressed. Judging by the tension he had been expressing during that moment, it had been taking every ounce of his control to reign in his magic.

He didn't speak or sing or use his voice at all if he could help it because—

"I'm sorry." It wasn't Apollo's place to pry. After all, he was keeping secrets himself. It would be hypocritical to get angry when he wasn't being honest with his traveling companion. "I'll be more mindful of that in the future."

Klavier Gavin stifled a laugh. "Why are you apologizing to me? I'm the one who admitted to willingly not helping earlier."

"Because I was prying." Among other things. "And because you did help, even if it took all of your concentration and attention."

"You aren't the slightest bit curious?" Klavier Gavin raised one of his eyebrows, maintaining steady eye-contact with Apollo.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't, but you're entitled to your secrets." Truth. "So, uh, yeah." Apollo quickly went back to eating so he didn't have to talk any more than that. Already he could feel the topic pressing too close to things he didn't want to talk about.

Klavier Gavin, thankfully, seemed to pick up on his reticence and dropped the subject. He tossed the stick into the campfire, erased his words, and finished his food in relative silence.

A bard with uncontrollable magic. Someone who was worried they'd hurt others if they spoke or sang.

How awful it must be to distance yourself from the things you love for the safety of others.

(That night Apollo dreamt of home. Of Dhurke and Nahyuta and Datz. Of dragons and shikigami and a land that glittered with spirits. A place where monsters walked arm in arm with humans, Oathbound to protect each other.)

(He dreamt of a fire that consumed everything and a choking spider's web.)

(He woke up in a cold sweat, counted his breaths, and reminded himself why he was even there in the first place. He needed the Hero's help or he needed to be the Hero. He couldn't afford to fuck it up.)

Klavier Gavin nudged Apollo on the shoulder. When he looked at him, the bard pointed towards the horizon. He squinted at whatever his companion was noticing, shielding his eyes from the midday sun with his hand. When he finally understood, he let out a heavy sigh. "Thank fuck."

Klavier Gavin raised an eyebrow.

"So, while we aren't sure if the Hero actually made it to the Demon King's castle or not, according to Mr. Gavin and a few eye-witnesses, this town we're coming up on is actually the last place anyone saw him." Not that Klavier Gavin didn't know that. He seemed about as informed as Mr. Gavin was. Still, it never hurt to reiterate the facts.

Klavier Gavin frowned a bit and then pantomimed raising a sword and shield up towards the sun. Then he quickly swung the invisible sword a bit, stopping to feign death.

"I don't..." How to explain his thought process here? "The odds of the Hero being dead are slim."

That seemed to surprise Klavier Gavin, whose eyebrows disappeared into his swoopy fringe.

"Don't make that face at me." Even as he was being admonished, he still seemed more amused than anything. "Look, if the Demon King had killed the Hero, either the Heavens would have appointed a new one or someone would have seen the fight. The Demon King's castle isn't super far from this town and a fight of that proportion would be very visible."

Klavier Gavin mimed stabbing someone, then slitting their throat, then garotting them.

"Even if he was assassinated, yes." It was a good question, even if Apollo was being a bit dismissive. "People would have mentioned the Hero never leaving or perhaps disappearing. The information we have is that he was here, then headed towards the Demon King's castle to the east. So he was alive when he left."

The look Klavier Gavin gave him was easy to read. 'When he left,' it said with merely a half-lidded frown and a single arched eyebrow.

"Look, we can verify the veracity of this rumor when we get there, which—" Apollo put his hand on the horizon to measure the distance between the sun and where it would set. Then he used his thumb to frame the town's clocktower, quietly doing a bit of math. "—should be by tomorrow evening. Maybe midday if we get an early start."

Klavier Gavin didn't need words to inform Apollo as to what he thought about getting up early.

Apollo was the one stifling a laugh this time, the snort eating part of his words as he choked out, "Klavier Gavin, I don't like getting up early any more than you do but if you want to not fry in the midday sun, it's useful to be awake before the sun is."

He pouted.

"Complain all you like." Apollo turned to continue their journey. "Either way, tomorrow puts us one step closer to our goal." Our, as if Apollo genuinely cared about making sure the Hero was trying to slay the Demon King.

But he could lie to Mr. Gavin and his brother for a little while longer. Even if Klavier Gavin was a nice enough man, even if he was helpful and non-judgmental where Mr. Gavin would have reprimanded Apollo, it didn't matter.

He was just selfish like that.

"My brother is the one who suggested I stop talking."

Apollo stared at the words Klavier Gavin had written in the dirt. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't misreading them. "Huh?"

He erased the sentence and wrote, "I accidentally killed people with my magic. My brother suggested, because I'm a bard, that I should be quiet so more people wouldn't die."

An uncomfortable rock settled in his gut. This show of vulnerability felt unearned, uneven. It threw off the balance of their dynamic—two men keeping secrets even as they worked towards the same goal—and that was...that was a step too far.

"Why are you telling me?" He didn't mean to come off as harsh or sharp, he just...

Klavier Gavin blinked in surprise, his eyes widening even as his eyebrows pinched together. He scuffed out what he'd written with his boot and replied, "Because you shared a part of yourself with me. Something you didn't need to. It only felt right."

Apollo's dirk was heavy in his boot. He could feel it pressing against his ankle, the sensation a grounding reminder of the delineation between Apollo Justice the hero-aspirant and Apollo Justice the man. A physical representation of the mask he wore out of necessity.

"But that's not true." When Klavier Gavin turned his bright eyes towards him, it was all Apollo could do to not tell him the whole truth. Despite any reservations he had towards Klavier Gavin's reason for traveling with him—and Apollo did not believe that it was pure altruism on Mr. Gavin's part, too aware of how much control his sponsor liked to exert over his public image—the man had been helpful. He wanted to repay that trust but...some things were between him and the goddess he'd sworn an Oath to. "That— You'd already shown me—"

Maybe it was because they were used to communicating with each other in broken half-measures or maybe it was just because Apollo was so easy to read, but Klavier Gavin smiled at him and quickly scribbled down a response. "That was to balance out me using my magic to help in Ninjou?"

"...yeah." It had only been right, after all. Equality in all things. Give and take. Klavier Gavin had shared something vulnerable, something kept beneath the well-tended mask he wore, and Apollo shared in kind. "This is...that's a step too far."

"Sorry." He didn't look the slightest bit apologetic.

Whether it was the faint compulsion of his Oath or just a part of who Apollo was as a person, he just couldn't let this go. So, before his better judgement could snap his jaw closed he said, "I'm not as selfless as you think I am."

Klavier Gavin raised an eyebrow in surprise, his mouth bowing in a thin, bemused smile. Oh? His expression read. Do tell.

"I'm not a paladin for the Justice of it all. It's not some big...honor or whatever. I have goals and plans and to achieve them I need the Hero." Or I need to be the Hero.

The way that Klavier Gavin watched him as he talked, judgement-free and attentive, made Apollo feel...not small, per-se, but it was an intimate experience. He hadn't told this to anyone, after all, and even if he wasn't going to bear his whole soul to the man, it was a vulnerability he rarely expressed.

"My home is...I grew up a good ways off from the capital and there's a problem there. And we need help but the Heavens won't move because it's just legal enough by Their standards to not warrant looking into." The truth in halves. Nothing quite detailed, but certainly no outright lies. "I was going to petition the current Hero for his aid but he's..." How best to be charitable towards a man whose job he's put in jeopardy on multiple occasions? "...lazy."

That managed to get a rare laugh out of Klavier Gavin—not one of the soft huffing ones or the ones that are stifled and choked behind a demure hand and pressed lips, but a loud vocalized sound, the gift of hearing his voice in one form or another. His laugh—unlike Mr. Gavin's wind-chime tittering, all ringing bells and metal—was almost explosive. It was a snorting sound, a loud, "Ha!" It startled Apollo slightly.

It felt real. Genuine. Like a glimpse at the actual person behind whatever constructed front he and Mr. Gavin has built for him.

(A trait they shared: wearing the mask Mr. Gavin made for them, no matter how uncomfortable it was.)

Shakily, he wrote down, "I've never heard anyone describe the Hero as lazy before."

"Most people haven't had the...honor of talking to the man personally."

"Fair enough." Even as he wrote, Apollo could see Klavier Gavin's shoulders shaking from how hard he was trying not to keep laughing.

"If I can't petition the Hero, I have to go about it other ways." Like becoming the Hero or getting powerful and famous enough to be able to take an army back home without the Heavens kicking up a fuss about Balance and Justice. "Like this." Questing his way towards the Demon King's castle to confirm the death of a man he didn't hate enough to want dead but didn't like enough to want to find him alive.

"Even if your reasoning is selfish, you're still amazing."

Apollo turned his face away so Klavier Gavin couldn't see him flushing. "Glad you think so," he mumbled.

When he looked back, Klavier Gavin was attentively tending the fire, his stick thrown in. He had already written something else, one last parting shot. "A selfish hero and a mute bard. Aren't we quite the pair?"

Apollo could only laugh.