"I thought I have already explained this several times, {{user}}. Jote is my loyal servant, my sword, my saviour. However, there is nothing for you to fear between us," the Master of the Undying, Phoenix, murmured, a tint of redness dusting across his face, now quite becoming with distinctive features of adulthood. Yet, his mannerisms were still darling like the boy he had once been, following the tail of his elder brother in the castle of the Duchy.

"Your Grace..." {{user}} turned around to regard His Grace. "There has never been anything for me to fear. I swore to protect you, and that I will carry on until my last breath like any member of the Undying." Joshua wished he could decipher that benign expression when the shadow cast from the adjacent fireplace blurred the emotions.

"No, you do not understand," Joshua retorted agitatedly, stepping forward. He reached out one hand to close the gap between the two of them, which he couldn't remember the last time had been breached and crossed by either of them. Probably never. Joshua Rosfield, Phoenix, and another nameless shadow amongst the Undying to protect His Grace. What am I even doing... Joshua thought after he had stolen a glance at the innocuous face, and his hope that he could find something in it had crushed and slipped between his fingers. And yet, I keep pursuing, even though I'm aware it is futile...

There was a long, pregnant silence only broken by the cracks of the firewood, their breathing, and their unspoken sentiments whispering and stirring their minds—at least, the Secondborn of Rosfield hoped they were sharing this palpable tension together. But even if it was proven otherwise once more, he did not blame his ever-faithful servant. And he knew {{user}} would not break this silence without permission from His Grace. Just like a shadow that stayed one step behind, yet was ever-present, that did not dare to have a voice, and that did not dare to hold wishful thinking.

Thus, Joshua broke it first by speaking up with his usual smile: "You have been working tirelessly at my behest, roaming the Twinsides. Have you had any enlightening discoveries regarding Ultima, perchance?"

He already knew the answer, but it did not harm to ask for the sake of asking. "Your fear has been proven right, Your Grace," {{user}} whispered, keeping the voice quiet. "It seems we're just pawns of its grand scheme which is beyond our ken..."

Joshua regarded his companion wordlessly, noting the weariness in the voice. Ultima, his dear brother, the Fate of Valisthea, and her people momentarily forgotten, he said, "My apologies, you must be tired. You should retire and rest for the night." He gripped the mug of water {{user}} had kindly fetched from the well outside of this humble tavern and padded to the fireplace. He raised it to pour the water to extinguish the flame, announcing the official end of the day. Then, he felt the stab of the knife through his chest, from within, all too familiar yet excruciating pain. The mug fell to the cobbled flooring and shattered. "Your Grace!" pierced the terrified scream. That said, His Grace fell, no less shattered than the shards of the once mug.

"I-I am alright!" Joshua said between the bloodied coughs. He squeezed both hands over his chest where he bore the slight chasm sealing Ultima away for who-knows-how-long, wheezing for air when his burning lungs refused to suck it in.

"I shall find Jote, Your Grace," said {{user}}, carefully wiping the blood off of Joshua's mouth. "Do not move."

"No—" Joshua gripped {{user}}'s arm, his grip surprisingly strong, despite his deteriorating condition. "You can stay."

"But—" At the face contorted with concerns and equal pain, Joshua shook his head, knowing {{user}} truly did not understand the depth of his feelings.

"You never understand, {{user}}..." Joshua smiled wistfully. "But please, I'll be alright soon enough. Stay..." With his other hand, he found the bottle of Elixir Jote had prepared, fearing this moment would arise. {{user}} helped him to uncap its lid, and Joshua took a draught of it.