Chapter 45: [42 – name; velvet voice]

"From here, to here." hummed Brioc, drawing a twisted curve on the paper with ease. "There's an underground passage, though it'll be a little cramped." 

"How cramped are we talking about?" asked Raphael.

"Well~ enough that you'd better get ready to be nice and cozy with whoever is near you." Brioc winked at Soren, earning him a well-deserved scowl. "I'm just saying. Anyway, that's the only way you'll get in without being found. The Haze King is a coward. He'll guard himself like nothing else, especially at this time."

His words carried a more vicious bite at the end, but nobody in the room questioned his reasons. It wasn't the time for that. 

And Brioc’s family situation was clearly a delicate topic.

Alvara watched on the side and wondered, "Actually, I've been thinking. That person I'm meant to find to help me. What if he says no?"

Soren raised his chin from where he sat on the chair. "No?"

"I mean, he's a difficult sort, isn't he? Or at least, I thought so from what you've told me."

"He won't say no." 

The confidence in his tone was undeniable, and all heads turned to look at him with curiosity. Soren was a person who seemed to know many secrets of people, despite being apathetic to those around him.

It was that trait that made what he knew all the more peculiar. 

"Why not?" 

Soren's gaze raked over the map and landed back on Alvara. "In the Forest of the Lost, there's an artifact that he's been looking for."

It was Raphael's turn to ask questions. "What sort of artifact?"

"A memento. His parents'." 

"You could give a little more context, little prince. It'd be good to know in more detail, although I know you dislike talking. How about it?"

Soren stared at him lazily with heavy irritation before resting his head on his hand. "Damien collects things naturally, but he's also looking for the last thing his parents left him. It was lost, and he thinks it's in the Forest of the Lost."

"Why would it be there?"

"His parents died there. "

Everybody suddenly froze at the sudden revelation. 

"Um, no offense, Renren, but you can't just bring this up and not explain the entire story. You’re kind of bad at this — explaining stuff." said Brioc with a half-hearted look of pity.

"....."

Soren blinked. "You don't need to know."

"But I want to."

"And?"

"Well," started Brioc rather shamelessly. "You should take care of those under your command. Be a kind master to your servants."

"I'm not your master."

A small tap on his side made Soren turn his head. "Hey, do you mind explaining more if you know? I'd like to get a good idea of Damien before meeting him." said Alvara awkwardly, smiling with some hope.

The 'Damien' she had heard of was an impressive teenager who was the leader of the Fox Tribe, one so deadly and dangerous it would take a genius to manage. 

The key word was dangerous. 

She didn't think dying after finally waking up again would be ideal. 

Soren was about to reject before she pressed,

"Please, Master?" She blinked her crimson eyes with a youthful innocence that was hard to ignore in this group of people who were anything but. "Please?"

"....." Soren pressed his head on the table glumly and started speaking. "Damien's parents were investigating something in the forest. They ended up getting roped in and trapped."

"Is... he looking for their bodies?"

"He's looking for anything left of them. That fox cared for his parents a lot."

"Actively searching?"

Brioc interrupted, laughing lightly with a pitiful tone. "That boy has no time to search for it. He could only do it in his free time, but he's not stupid enough to enter a place where the living cannot leave. I mean, it sounds pretty interesting~ but even I wouldn't go there. Shocking, right?"

He kicked back in his chair, leaning back. "Anyway, the fox tribe members often go missing in their work, so Damien must've already learned to prioritize other things over old memories."

"That sucks." muttered Alvara. 

"Well, it works out for us~ If that story's true, Damien needs you, so he won't turn us down." said Brioc cheekily.

"That feels a little wrong...?"

"It is what it is." said Raphael with a sigh. "We don't have the luxury to worry about others at this time, cruel as that sounds. Although I think that fox wouldn't accept help without being ready to pay it back to begin with."

The world was still cruel, but in ways that Alvara could understand. After all, within those narrow streets of grim and death, hadn't it been the same? 

It was everyone for themselves, undoubtedly.

"Then, he'll agree to it?"

"Yes." said Soren, dragging his eyes across the map which had been scribbled over. "When you find Uriel, return immediately. Have Hazel bring the information in his place."

"Okay, I got it."

"Brioc, you will lead us down tomorrow night. There is no room for error."

"Alright~ I'll make sure you have the smoothest journey possible~"

Soren ignored him, as always. "Vendra, your appearance is unknown. You can enter through the gates as a visitor."

"It'll be my pleasure, Soren."

"Actually, hold up." said Raphael as he tapped the table lightly. "Celine doesn't know what I look like. None of them do. If you need somebody to sneak around before the event, I can do it."

"Oh." Soren paused, then frowned. 

Raphael had encountered Celine and even fought with her. How was it that Celine didn't know his appearance?

The man seemed to understand Soren's confusion and explained, "I kept my hood up, during the first meeting and when we fought."

"Why?"

"It wasn't your idea? Your little butler told me to do so."

"It wasn't."

"Perhaps he was cautious of her from the beginning." said Vendra, tilting her head lightly. "I've heard that members of the fox tribe are rather sensitive to others, and cautious as well."

"Isn't that perfect~?" said Brioc with a wide grin. "That would mean he definitely investigated her."

“Yes, that is true.”

"Raphael will enter from the passage with me. After, he can look around the castle." said Soren. 

"Oh~ are you trying to get quality time with him?"

Soren scowled, eyes growing a shade more icy. "The Haze King is a coward, and that hippo reeks."

"....." Raphael, who had calmly been listening to the plan, paused. "Hey, hey, wait. Excuse me?"

The prince turned to Raphael, face clouded in offense, and repeated calmly, "You reek."

"I didn't say repeat it, I said to wait."

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I do believe my younger brother intends to point out your overall aura, and not your scent." interrupted Atlas, smiling wryly. His steady gaze observed Raphael, and he nodded to himself. "Your presence is rather powerful."

The cowardly Haze King wasn't stupid enough not to notice danger that strolled before him in the form of a sly, overbearing man called Raphael.

"Was the word 'reek' really the best way to word it?" asked Raphael in exasperation. 

Soren was unbothered. "It doesn't matter."

He continued explaining the plan, oblivious to Raphael's hurt pride. "The other three princes... Atlas, you deal with them. I don't want to see their faces."

"Ah..." Atlas sighed wearily and nodded. "Very well, I'll do just that. Do take care of yourself, Soren."

Soren looked up briefly with slight hesitation. "I... yes. Thank you."

Atlas smiled softly at his clumsy words.The fourth prince was genuine, and Soren felt it. For that reason, he replied politely.

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"That's all. Everything else will be told by Atlas individually."

Everybody nodded in agreement, and one by one, drifted out of the room. There was much to do for each person; preparations to be made.

Soon, the only people left in the room were Raphael and Soren.

One who had nothing much to do or deal with, and the other being too lazy to deal with anything that might need to be done. 

With only the two, the room felt much larger than before, filled with people in every seat that surrounded the expansive, round table. It was an empty room used for meetings in the past, according to Atlas, which meant it was further away from any noise to be private.

When had the quiet started to feel unusual?

"Are you worried?"

Soren, head pressed against the table in sleepiness, mumbled. "No."

"Not at all? It's a pretty big scheme that we're aiming to pull out."

"It'll work."

"How can you be so certain?"

Raphael leaned against the table, propping his chin with an elbow as he lazily looked across the table at the snowy head plastered to the wood. 

A pair of icy eyes shifted under the hair, and the voice became a little clearer. "If you don't think so, then be ready for the world's end."

"I didn't say that."

"Then shut up."

Raphael was used to the biting tone of Soren and leaned more of his weight onto his hand, staring out at the window that was streaming with delicate rays of light. 

The lights had been kept off since Brioc had suggested opening the window for natural light instead, enjoying the soft warmth of morning. It made the atmosphere peaceful, a distraction from the future.

Raphael closed his eyes lightly, feeling the light brush against his lids. 

This world was beautiful, he thought. It carried a distinct air of difference from every other, its own unique places and curious characters. Raphael, regardless of his mental state through the worlds, found those things fascinating and worth protecting. 

In this world too, through the tragedies and through the darkness which plagued every land, there were things worth saving. 

His eyes gently flickered open, dark eyes staring out at the world. This time, it could be saved.

He moved his gaze, landing on the head on the table. It would be saved, because of this lazy person who was so unreliably reliable. 

"You lived in an apocalypse before, didn't you? Little prince."

Soren didn't spare him a glance and nodded. "Yeah."

Raphael leaned back in the chair and grinned. "It's a weird thought to understand, but I think I can imagine you in an apocalypse. A lone wolf, maybe?"

"What's the point of this?"

"Conversing. I want to understand you, you see."

"Why?"

Raphael gradually lifted his dark gaze to meet Soren's in the dim light. "Because I have to trust you. But you're so full of mysteries, it's pretty hard to."

"Don't trust me, then. Trust in my abilities." said Soren simply, tugging at his legs which were slipping off the chair. He brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes and Raphael watched with steely resolution.

"That might be how you do things, but I prefer understanding what sort of mess I'm getting myself into."

"...do what you want."

The prince placed his head down against the oaken surface, snowy strands spread out as he showed no intentions of having a conversation. It wasn't rudeness, Raphael understood, but rather a tiredness that Soren felt at talking. 

"An apocalypse, hm?" 

Raphael thought back to the scene from the training room. Most likely, that had been fragments of Soren's old world -- a chaotic, bloody sight. 

His thoughts stagnated. When he'd first seen the sight, it had been shocking. Not in the gruesome horror that was displayed, but the odd familiarity that lingered.

"I think if I'd met you then, we'd have ended up in a similar situation." said Raphael off-handedly, thinking little as he spoke. 

The bundle of hair on the table shuffled slightly and a low murmur could faintly be heard. "Why?"

"I don't think I would've been able to leave you alone."

Soren moved his head, peeking through the strands at the calm protagonist who was saying whatever he pleased without any thought.

"You look like the sort that would go off and die. Or maybe, you'd bother me for no reason and I'd get so annoyed that I'd go after you for revenge.

"....."

"That's a pretty likely scenario. What'd you think, little prince?" Raphael smiled lazily. "Wouldn't we have some sort of relationship?"

In the apocalypse, if he'd met somebody that was justice-seeking like Raphael... it was hard to imagine it. 

If Raphael had become one of the many temporary companions that joined him at random, what sort of life would it have been? What changes would've occurred?

"How do you think our first meeting would've been?"

In the middle of battle, no doubt, thought Soren. Those were the only times he wandered close enough to people to be seen. 

Raphael thought about it carefully. "I'd say, it would be after a battle, and I'd encounter you covered in blood with no mind for your own well-being."

Soren's head raised slightly, and two blue eyes peered out. "What would you do?"

"What?"

"If you encountered me, what would you have done?"

"Well..." Raphael hadn't expected a reply, so he thought about it seriously. "If our meeting was as I said, I would've offered you a hand and helped you out if you needed it." 

"Helped?"

"What else? You're not immortal, and I'm not so mean to leave a person covered in blood all alone on a finished battlefield."

And suddenly Soren could envision it, right before his eyes. The splintered chunks of wood around him, rocky grounds destroying whatever had once been in that location. 

He'd be sitting there, after a battle. Quiet and uncaring, he would sit. Why? He never knew. All he knew was that he was alone in this fallen world. Until the end of time.

Then, a single hand stretched out before him.

Calloused and rough around the edges, worn from endless fighting but still very much in tact, that sole hand would wait before him. Patiently. Carefully. Waiting for him to accept it. 

'What is your name?'

A low, inviting voice that carried no malicious traces. Just a soothing, velvety warmth like the dancing daylight on a summer morning.

"Ren?"

Soren snapped his head up, eyes wide and trembling. 

Raphael frowned, looking at him with some concern as he scanned the prince carefully. "You zoned out. I called for you several times."

"...Oh." Soren stared blankly in a daze despite Raphael's growing worry. He slowly lowered his eyes, staring at his hands. Had Raphael not woken him from that... thought, would he have accepted that person's hand?

Going against his character and the way he lived during the apocalypse, Soren faintly thought, yes. He would've.

If not immediately, then eventually. 

He would've taken that hand.

"Ren? Are you alright?"

"Raphael..." said Soren in a faint tone, eyes unfocussed. "Why are you calling me Ren?"

Even if he had confessed his true name, it wasn't as if most would accept it so easily and call him by it. It would be normal to keep calling him by his name in this world, not his past.

Raphael was taken by surprise once again before he shrugged. That constant careless smile spread across his face as he said with a clear tone, "Well, it feels more natural to call you that. Don't you think, Ren?"

There was no snarky remark ready to be slapped across Raphael; no words with heavy sarcasm or unintentional insults.

Raphael looked at Soren unblinkingly, mouth slightly parted in wonder.

Instead, there was a faint, drawn out smile carrying a hint of an unremembered past painted onto Soren's lips. And those melancholic blue eyes, glazed with unconscious warmth.

"...Yeah. I agree."

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