Over at the workshop, some chaos ensued. Chaos always enveloped these parts when more than two people were present, and since it's always been at least five since last Herbes, things seemed okay to Ranpa, but not to Rowan.

"Where is Sam?!" Judy raised her voice, sticking her head out from beneath a table.

"Um!" Katha glanced over at the basement. "I don't know, but he surely didn't get stuck trying to leave through the windows down there!"

"Huh?!" she furrowed her brows. "What for, even?!"

"Did you tell her about the other window I broke with the pebbles?" Ronpi quickly whispered, with the two standing in line near a table.

"WHAT?!"

"Shh. Ronpi broke no window, and Sam definitely isn't-"

"OW!" The Paladian yelled from down there.

"Great! Why do I have to do everything in this damn place?! Where is Sandy?!"

"Upstairs," Ranpa added, with Rowan glancing over. "Finishing up his arsenal."

Judy let out a throaty sigh, before turning over to the Tributal, standing in place and blinking sporadically, in some obvious fear.

"I'll get to you in a moment, okay?" Judy added, closing one eye. "...and the two of you better think of a way to fix this mess. We're leaving in a few days and nothing speaks of it!"

"You think I'll pass the course?" Ronpi whispered.

"Fingers crossed." Katha patted his shoulder. "-and who's this?" She pointed to Rowan.

"I- I-" Rowan blinked a few more times, trying to catch their words. "Just passing through, I guess."

"Is that your-" Katha continued.

"No."

"Because I was curious how you Tributals do all that." She raised a finger.

"All... what?" Rowan gulped, taking a step back.

"You know. The baby process."

Rowan's jaw unhinged like a snake's, and Ranpa had to step in to intervene. "It's best if we don't say something we might regret, eh, Katha?"

"No one seems to know, though," Ronpi uttered. "I was curious too."

"Are those demons?" Rowan whispered, squinting their eyes.

"Think so," Ranpa added.

"Alright." Judy's voice sounded on the other end of the room, and with a brush of both hands, she pushed the bruised Sam towards the others. "Don't do that again."

Sam sobbed. "Yes, ma'am."

"What did you do?" Ranpa asked, putting his hand over his eyes.

Sam looked up. "Ronpi threw the-"

"Ronpi didn't throw anything!" Katha yelled.

"We'll figure this out later." Judy pushed through the others. "Rowan, if you may."

"Of course." The Tributal muttered, stepping forward, as the baby squealed, putting his hands up. Judy reached a finger out, a little unsure with furrowed brows, and Rowan rolled their eyes before turning to Ranpa. "Hold him for a few."

"Ah-" Ranpa shook his head, just as the Tributal passed the child over into his hands. "Row-"

"If anything happens to him I'll kill you." they continued, strutting away.

"AH!"

***

In a small, well-lit storage area below the main workshop, with a few corridors left and right either connecting the repurposed, refurnished bedrooms or doors towards the other parts of Saphrith, Judy shuffled through books hidden behind a bigger shelf of empty bottles, ropes and other utility items.

Rowan peeked out of the corner to observe, as the girl slid a stool and reached for the top, with a heavy sigh.

"I thought the books were up there," Rowan muttered.

"Can you blame me for hiding the more important ones? You saw the wreckage," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Rowan shook their head. "I was wondering where you got all of these from, though."

Judy breathed out, before managing to wrap her hand around a book's spine before stepping down and brushing sweat off.

"When we first stepped into Orawood, it was Sandy's proof of work that managed to get us a place in town." She explained. "This was all just storage at first, and you know how royalty works. Stuffing everything everywhere but never throwing it out."

"Isn't that good though?"

"To a point. I can't tell you the amount of used napkins we found the first time we moved here." Judy chuckled.

"Gross."

"Exactly. Though, I reckon history itself is anything but that, and from what I can decipher in my spare time, it's the only thing that makes me reconsider my stance against pawning these over. You don't find anything in Old Manjuno in the public libraries in Saphrith nowadays, do you?"

"Can't recall, and I can't read the language either."

"Most of the stuff here is that except for this book." she raised her hand, adjusting her glasses, before passing it over to Rowan, who scanned its blank, fading-red cover. "Seems like one of the first attempts at using Manjuno after the Second War, so it is rather primitive."

The Tributal scanned the first few pages, focusing on a few words before flipping over to more. "It's a story, though."

"I did read it once a few months back, but I barely understood a thing. Labelled as fiction by everyone who asked that had half the brain even to form that thought, but likewise with the case with a lot of literature in Errarion..."

"...it reflects real life," Rowan muttered, stopping by one page.

The story focused on a nomad who constantly wavered through the world's challenges to fight a demon of their soul, as the book described. The names seemed rather strange, as they didn't fit any naming convention Rowan could think of, and the same was true of the surnames.

Alas though, one detail seemed strangely precise, as it mentioned the different generations of Tributals slowly becoming more human over time, separating from the animalistic bit they rejected through Sin Sacrifice.

It had a different name, quite obviously, and then they wondered why they didn't get their hands on it in the first place.

Then again, no title or author, but Rowan's eyes found something even more interesting below the peals of text.

"War Customs." they read, quietly, before glancing at Judy, who folded her arms and strutted about.

"This is as far as I could recall. Ranpa mentioned the name once during breakfast, and that sparked a thought. I saw it here, after all, but there isn't much written except for what he told me. A hideout deep in Orawood, with a door locking away some mystery. He didn't seem too keen on exploring the past, but I thought it'd be a cool thing to consider for the next few days. Alas, no one knows anything, except for something one passerby told me yesterday. Thought I'd call you for it."

Rowan nodded, fixing their glasses.

***

Stepping out of the basement, the Tributal glanced back and forth.

"Where is Ranpa and the baby?"

"Oh, they stepped outside," Sam informed, applying a few plasters with the help of Katha.

"When Judy comes to question us, don't screw up any details of the story, capiche?" Katha whispered. "I'll give you some of Ronpi's candy in return!"

"W-When did I agree to that?" Ronpi asked while Rowan underlined their stress with a lowly huff, before following the Paladian's footsteps through the ajar door.

The clouds shifted from a light white to a thicker grey covering most of the weaker blues.

The baby's laugh could be heard from here, even though the Tributal presumed they stepped further away.

Turning the corner revealed the same brick murals describing the history of Mokota, with a few busts waiting at the end, five precisely, with two figures looming in the distance.

Rowan ground their teeth slightly, before walking over, as a light breeze graced their hair.

"Ranpa?" they asked, as the man turned, glancing over at the child sitting on the ground, and then at the Tributal.

"O-Oh. The guys told you, right?" he asked. "Sorry that I stepped out of the blue, but the little guy kept pointing to the door, for whatever reason."

Rowan narrowed their eyes before glancing over at the kid, who reached his hands out and crawled towards a statue in the middle.

Again, a few trees shook with a small breeze, before the Tributal focused, crouching too.

"Judy said that some guy told her about these busts here. You ever stopped to look at them, Ranpa?"

"Not really." the Paladian scratched his head. "I barely took a look around Mokota since Oldenklow was the big deal for most of my time here." he sighed. "I knew about them standing here but this is a first."

Rowan stepped over, with their hand landing on the baby's back, as he crawled forth again, to sit and look up at the figure with a long, silent and open smile.

The Tributal's hand landed on the few words etched into the plaque.

"For the sake of the War Customs, they valiantly fought back against their curse, until one day it caught up to them. Still, their life were full of achievements that could one could only assign to a hero. For that, we thank them." Rowan straightened up, as the baby laughed a little, and they raised a brow.

Ranpa gasped lightly, before scratching his head again, rather awkwardly. "I should've investigated by myself then."

"Do you think it was about a Tributal?" they asked.

"Not many races refer to themselves with genderless words," he added, folding his arms.

"If..." Rowan gulped.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, Ranpa." they picked the kid up, before sighing, as it stared at the bust for a while longer, before focusing on Rowan's face with some awe.

The small shock quickly disappeared, turning into that same beam, as one hand reached out and touched Rowan's cheek, much to a small smile that appeared on their face. Ranpa shuffled a few steps away with a similar expression.

"It's just... we all have things we want to focus on now, right?" they turned. "Lives to come back to and stories to tell."

"I don't think I get it." he shook his head.

"Just leave the rest to me now, okay?" they smiled. "I have a baby to take care of, and... I guess some War Customs to wonder about. It's secondary, though, I assume likewise with you." they sighed. "I have to focus on what's right. Figure the last bits of Úgau leaves. Keep the baby in check, and nurse Ambrosia back to health. If that's possible even."

They put the baby up in both hands, before letting his head rest on their shoulder. A drop of water splattered from above, and with a turn, a few more appeared, softly gracing their robes.

"It must be connected somehow, right?" Ranpa proposed. "To the baby, or anything else."

"I don't want fate to step in again."

"Huh?"

Rowan forced a slightly bigger beam, turning to Ranpa. "Just a few words. Nothing personal."

Ranpa breathed out, before stepping over and nodding. "Okay. Ch-champagne letter, though."

"Of course," they replied, as the Paladian shuffled away and the Tributal stayed for a few seconds longer, eyeing the statue.

The name on the plaque was scratched out, and its face was so worn away that deduction couldn't even go too far, likewise, with everything here.

The baby had no name. The story they read was titleless and without an author.

...and another drop landed on their head.

***

During a clash of weapons, Morio focused, once more. Zips of thunder came flying out of Gloria, battling against the light streaks created by Zhen's push.

The Ainasu ground his teeth, and Morio did the same, raising his voice in the process.

It was the fifth time that day, and only after a few hours of rest, frizzy hair and a few wounds on the Morian's hands.

There was more proof, however. Each attempt weakened Zhen. A few bruises appeared right where he pushed the most, and with each helping off the strike of the brass knuckles, something kept pushing.

In every other scenario, repeating the same thing would've been meaningless. Standing in a ditch on the hills slowly dug out by their joint effort meant that taking any other move would mean a victory.

But that's not what Morio fought for, in the end.

When his eyes locked with Zhen, he raised his voice, as if to let those feelings completely escape.

His gaze then shifted to the weapon, as it shook with the moment. Zhen's expression shifted, and so did the things that formed the brawl in the first place.

The weapon wanted to fight on its own.

It wanted to find proof of its scars.

With a halted breath, the zaps that appeared earlier turned hue. From the light yellow, almost white that Morio sometimes complained about, into a thick, shadowy violet, which he could recall Jyuzou mentioning was his favourite colour.

Nonetheless, it didn't seem like the right thing to focus on.

The darkness consumed the light that constantly appeared in chunks out of Zhen's weapon, before allowing Morio to take one step forward, forcing Zhen further in.

Dirt flew up, before dispersing elsewhere, and with a breath, Morio couldn't catch another.

He let go, closing one eye, before almost collapsing to the ground, caught by Zhen's hand.

The Ainan seemed tired. With heavy breaths and a chuck of the brass knuckles, their exhausted expressions met.

"That's enough for today, Morio." he gulped. "You did it."

The Morian, even through some of the pain, managed to flash a smile, and afterwards, a few minutes passed.

It was mostly Morio trying to get his hair to stay in one place, as the force of the thunder made the ends of his strands grow a thin black colour.

Zhen was more concerned with drinking lots of the waters from the pouches he carried, and when he caught his breath, he passed one to Morio, who chugged almost everything in one swing.

"Ah!" he gasped, sighing out and laying on the grass. "I did it,"