She blinked at him. "What?"
"Which weapon's best? You've tried them all."
Elysia exhaled, stepping forward like she was about to deliver a full lecture. "Fine. Pay attention." She reached for his sling first, flicking a stone into the air and catching it with ease.
"Ranged weapons. Good for speed, distance, and control on the battlefield. Harass your opponent before they even get close to you. But they'll never stop a charging brute head-on."
She swapped to his knife, twirling it between her fingers before flipping it deftly into a reverse grip. "Knives. Deadly up close, perfect for assassinations and counters. But one mistake and you're done. No reach."
Then she grabbed his sword and spun it once, settling naturally into a stance. "Swords, the balanced choice. They won't fail you, but they won't excel unless you truly commit. A jack-of-all-trades becomes a king only when the wielder turns it into royalty."
Pheo blinked. "...Right. Royalty."
She paused, sword lowering slightly. He tilted his head, curiosity sharpening. "You've never really talked about your family, have you? What are they like?" Elysia hesitated at the question, not with discomfort, but with the look of someone who hadn't expected the question.
"Information about royalty is usually kept under lock and key," she said. "Too many people eyeing the throne. The less they know, the fewer knives aimed at our backs." Elysia wiped the dust from her hands, leaning back against one of the practice posts.
Pheo crossed his arms. "I'm not asking for secrets or court documents. Just… something. Anything." She gave him a long look, as if weighing how much trouble this could cause her.
She groaned under her breath. "You're impossible."
He waited.
Finally, she let out a reluctant sigh. "...Fine. But if this comes back to me, I'm blaming you." Pheo gestured for her to continue with a smug little nod. "I've got two older brothers."
"The firstborn is the one who keeps the capital from tearing itself apart. Level-headed to a fault. He doesn't care much about factions or favorites, just stability. If the world were ending, he'd probably schedule it in advance to avoid panic."
Pheo huffed. "So the composed one."
"That's one way to put it. Try having him stare you down for spilling tea at age seven. I thought I was going to be exiled from the capital."
"And the other one?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, the middle child? He's a storm with legs. Always off on expeditions, scouting, negotiating, whatever earns him leverage. He's not cruel, but he's… opportunistic. If betraying you got him ahead, he'd do it and apologize over dinner."
"Sounds charming."
"He once traded my horse in a deal without telling me," she muttered. "I had to steal it back." Pheo tried not to laugh, but failed. Elysia continued, tone softening just a fraction. "Between the two of them is my little sister. Quiet, observant, and too polite for her own good."
"She gets dragged between their worlds, and half the time no one notices she's even in the room until she's gone. I worry about her more than I admit, or at least, more than the other two."
Pheo blinked. "You? Worrying. Huh."
She ignored him. "And then there's my other half, my twin brother. He stayed in the capital instead of joining the Concordists. He's practically glued to our father's side. If my father so much thinks about moving a chess piece, my brother's already arranged the board."
"Are you close with him?"
She hesitated, then shrugged. "We understand each other. Even when we don't like each other. He thinks I'm bullheaded and reckless, I think he's a glorified shadow. But… he's still my twin."
Pheo leaned on his sword. "Sounds like your family's a lot."
"Trust me, I know," she said with a dry laugh. "It's like being born into a political battlefield and expected to smile through all the sword swings and arrows."
"And yet you call me dramatic." She smirked. "You are dramatic. My family just makes it look subtle." He shook his head. "I don't know how you keep track of all that."
"I don't," she deadpanned. "I just try not to die when they're all in the same room as me." Pheo chuckled. "What a complicated bunch."
"Very," she said, not without a trace of fondness. "But they're mine. Unfortunately." He nudged her elbow. "You sound like you kind of like them."
"Don't insult me."
He snorted. "There it is."
She flicked a pebble at his forehead. Elysia sheathed the sword he'd borrowed and gave him a look. "Well? Anora's not going to wait forever. What weapon do you think you're going with?"
Pheo shrugged. "I'll probably figure it out when I see what's there." She narrowed her eyes at his words. "That's not a plan, that's improvising on the spot."
"It's worked for me so far, it'll work this time as well." he said, backing away with a lazy wave. She clicked her tongue. "If you come back with something ridiculous, I'm blaming you."
He smirked over his shoulder. "I'll get a matching set for you too."
"Try it and I'll kill you."
With that parting threat of affection, he left the training yard and made his way back toward the Raven's camp. The sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows over canvas tents and weapon racks.
As he cut through the familiar rows, he spotted a lone figure sitting on a crate near the alchemy station, Polin. She was as quiet as ever, masking hanging at her hip with her fingers lazily rolling a vial of pale green liquid between them.
Pheo approached. "Hey. I need your opinion." Polin glanced up to see him, but said nothing. "I've gotta pick a weapon today. Anora's dragging me to some weaponsmith. Got any thoughts?"
She considered that for a moment, eyes distant. "I use acid that needs a custom suit to properly contain and use," she said at last. "I wouldn't know what weapon would suit you."
"Fair," he said. "But you've fought with all sorts of people, all of them wielding different weapons. Which weapon did you find the hardest to deal with?" She didn't think long before responding. "Guns. No contest."
Pheo nodded. "Yeah. They're a pain."
"But they're not for you, not your style," she added plainly. He blinked. "...You got that just from our fights?"
"You telegraph that you like to move, like to keep yourself within arms reach of enemies yet far enough for them to barely miss. Guns are for those who keep their distance, they favor those who are patient and still."
He couldn't argue with her words. "I need something that works up close," he muttered, half to himself, "like a sword or knife… but I still want for them to have pressure at range. Something to replace my sling without losing flexibility."
Polin only hummed softly, already losing interest in the conversation now that she'd said her peace. "Thanks," he said anyway, and she gave the slightest nod. With that, he continued toward the rendezvous point.
Anora was already waiting near the edge of the camp beside a rugged, dust-worn vehicle built for rough travel. Supplies were strapped down in the back, and the engine was already running.
She looked up as he approached. "Finally," she said. "Get in." He climbed onto the passenger side, settling into the rattling seat. "If we rush," Anora said, checking the controls, "we'll make it there by nightfall."
The vehicle rumbled to life, circling around the outskirts of the camp before rolling past its entrance gates. The metal fences and tents shrank in the rearview mirror as they merged into the open road.
For a time, the hum of the engine and the faint clatter of equipment were the only sounds that filled the cabin. They drove through the heart of the free city, weaving between narrow streets bustling with merchants and stray travelers.
Pheo leaned an arm against the window, watching the blur of color and chaos slide past. There were bright banners, steam vents, and shouts of traders competing for attention. Then, as the last of the walls gave way, the world opened into an endless stretch of pale, sun-bleached desert.
The sound of the city faded into the low howl of the wind. Pheo kept his eyes on the horizon, where waves of heat twisted in the air. "We're not making it back today, are we?" he asked.
Anora shook her head, her gaze steady on the road. "No. We'll have to stay the night out here." He frowned. "In the badlands? What about the dust devils? They start showing up once the sun sets if you forgot."
"They do," Anora admitted, adjusting the steering lever as the vehicle jolted over uneven sand. "But the Badlands aren't entirely hostile. There are placed the wind can't reach. Natural pockets where the terrain makes it impossible for dust devils to form or enter. Over time, people built around those places, making what we call Oasis Cities."
Pheo's curiosity piqued. "How many of those are there?" Anors hummed thoughtfully. "Hard to say for sure. Maybe a hundred, give or take. Sounds like a lot, but in the scope of the Badlands?"
She gestured broadly to the horizon, where the sands stretched farther than sight could follow. "It's barely a drop in the ocean." Pheo leaned back, eyes still fixed on the empty expanse. The thought of a hundred fragile havens scattered through that vast wasteland made the desert feel even larger than he had thought.
The vehicle bounced over another rise before leveling out, the engine humming beneath their feet. "So," Pheo began, "this weaponsmith were about to go to, what's he like?"
Anora smirked slightly, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. "He's sharp. Probably one of the most talented crafters I've met. Knows how to turn scrap metal into weapons that feel like extensions of your body."
"Sounds like someone you get along with," Pheo remarked. "You could say that," she said, smirking. "We've worked together a few times. He's got this annoying habit of being right about most things, especially when it comes to equipment."
"If I have questions about some old world tech I found laying around somewhere here, I would go to him. He understands those things better than anyone I've seen. Can even rebuild things most engineers would call junk."
Pheo tilted his head. "Old world tech? He can repair those old broken down machines you find in those ruins scattered around?"
"Yup." Anora reached for the knife strapped to her thigh and held it up. "This one for example. He helped me modify it." Pheo leaned closer, it was his first time taking a closer look at it.
The blade glinted with a faint silvery sheen, its spine lined with narrow grooves and filigree patterns that seemed more mechanical than ornamental. "This knife isn't just metal," she explained.
"It's built with a pulse reinforcement system, a miniature core that boosts its structural density when it's active. Lets me block attacks that would normally break steel or even boulders."
Pheo blinked. "So it can parry force about a hundred times stronger?"
"Roughly," Anora replied with a grin. "Here, watch." She flicked a switch on the guard, and a low hum filled the cabin. The knife vibrated softly, the etched lines along the blade glowing a faint blue.
For a moment, it looked flawless until the hum faltered, sputtering out with a harsh metallic click. The glow dimmed, and the vents on the side snapped halfway shut with a hiss.
"Tch. There it is again," she muttered, giving the hilt a sharp tap. "It keeps locking up. The mechanism's fine, it's just the pulse stabilizer that's starting to fail." Pheo frowned slightly. "What could've done that?"
Anora's expression softened, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "Something I shouldn't have been fighting head-on."
He didn't press. He knew better than to ask about her missions. Anora's assignments were always wrapped in layers of silence and red tape. Whatever had pushed that blade past its limits, it wasn't something she could talk about.
Instead, Pheo leaned back in his seat, watching the sands blur by outside. "Guess that means this weaponsmith's gonna have his hands full." Anora gave a small laugh. "He always does. But if anyone can fix it, it's him."
Anora leaned back in her seat, one hand casually resting on the steering lever as the vehicle hummed through the dunes. "We'll be staying overnight at a hotel," she said, glancing at Pheo.
"It was built by one of the bigwigs from the Free City. You'll know it when you see it. It stands out even among the sand." Pheo turned to her, surprised. "A hotel? Out here?"
"Yeah," she said with a faint grin. "Apparently, the owner wanted something close to the trade routes. Unlike most Oasis Villages, this one's different. It's got guards, barriers, supply lines, all the works. People call it the second safest spot in the Badlands."
Her words carried an ease born of confidence, but to Pheo, they only reminded him of how unforgiving the Badlands could be. The endless dunes outside seemed clam now, but he knew the truth.
The storms that tore through at night, the shifting sands that could swallow entire camps, and the people who hunted the weak under the cover of dust and dark. The thought lingered like a shadow, his mind wandering back to the stories passed down.
"Hey," Anora's voice broke through his thoughts, firm but light. "Don't get lost in your head." Pheo blinked, realizing he'd been staring blankly at the horizon. "Look ahead," she said, nodding toward the distance.
He followed her gaze, his eyes widening as he saw it. Rising from the golden waves of sand was a sprawling formation, a mountain sculpted from dust and stone. Built into its side were glimmers of metal and glass, faint reflections of civilization cutting through the wild.
Roads curved into the slope, winding upward toward clusters of buildings that clung to the surface like scattered gems. "That's the place," Anora said, a hint of pride in her voice. "The Oasis City of Rahl. The safest danger zone you'll ever find."
As they drew closer, the vast mound of sand and stone began to take shape, revealing what truly lay upon it. The village emerged from the dunes like an oasis carved by human hands.
A patchwork of sandstone homes that had narrow streets weaving across them and glinting rooftops that caught the last traces of sunlight. From afar it had seemed small, but as they entered, Pheo could see the life spilling through every corner.
Children darted between alleys, their laughter mingling with the rhythm of merchants calling out their wares. The scent of cooked grain and spiced meat drifted through the air, carried by a soft desert wing.
They passed by a bustling marketplace where traders sold everything from scrap metal and textiles to glowing vials of distilled sand essence. Just beyond, a small playground sat shaded under hanging cloths, where younger residents played with improvised toys.
At the heart of the village, a wide well stood surrounded by circular stone steps, where people gathered to fill jars and share news. Despite the harshness of the Badlands, there was warmth there, a sense of community bound by survival and familiarity.
Their vehicle followed the narrow road until it reached the far end of the settlement. There, towering above the modest homes, was a building unlike any other he had seen there.
Constructed from a blend of metal and glass, it gleamed faintyly under the sun's retreating light. Its clean lines and reinforced structure stood in stark contrast to the simple architecture around it, marking it as something brought in from another world.
Anora slowed the vehicle to a step at the building's entrance, cutting the engine. The hum faded, replaced by the murmur of the village below. She turned to Pheo, unbuckling her harness.
"This is our stop," she said, stepping out and stretching her arms before glancing back at him with a small grin. "Come on, if you love the outside then you'll love the inside as well."