“And you can just take it at will? As many as you want?”

“Hundreds of videos depending on how long they are, yeah.”

“That’s…that’s a relic-class artifact! And anyone can use it? You just tap…”

He was no fool. He tried to copy her. And his fingers touched the screen in his eagerness. Cara felt the iPhone go cold. She saw frost form and yanked it away in sudden alarm.

“Dalius, no! You’ll freeze it!”

He snatched his fingers back, guiltily.

“I’m sorry!”

He retreated. Back to the safe distance. Cara felt at her phone anxiously. Then she saw the [Knight]’s face. She wavered. Motioned him back.

“It’s fine. You just can’t touch it.”

“Are you sure?”

He was reluctant, suddenly aloof again. Cara motioned him back over.

“Come on. It’s safe. Take another look—I have to turn it off or I’ll drain too much power. Then I suppose we had better get on the way again, right?”

He nodded slowly.

“It is still far to go. What shall we talk about as we walk? Perhaps a song?”

“Only if you sing for me.”

“I…am not a [Singer].”

“So? Do you have to have a class?”

“No. Not at all! It’s just—I have a poor singing voice.”

She laughed. After the fire was tamped down, the two walked on through the darkness. But no longer so far apart. They walked next to each other. Talking.

——

Ser Dalius kept asking Cara to sing in between their conversations about worlds. Cara obliged him three times with little ditties, nursery rhymes, and a song. But then she decided to push back.

“I’ll only sing or perform if I get something in return. You must have some talent, Ser Dalius!”

“I don’t sing. I would hardly wish to sully the tomb with my voice compared to your talents, Miss Cara.”

She rolled her eyes as the [Knight] shyly demurred.

“Fine, no singing. But don’t you have any other talents? That sword, for instance. Got any interesting techniques? Show me, come on.”

He hesitated.

“I…could demonstrate some abilities, I suppose. I don’t have Skills—”

“But you’re a [Knight]. Come on, Ser Dalius. What’s there to lose?”

“My dignity? However, if you insist…”

It took only a minute of persuasion before Ser Dalius unsheathed his sword. He made a show of reluctance, but only a show.

“I—er, I suppose you should see a sword trick. Not an actual sword art. I can’t perform those anymore.

And battle’s more about efficiency. Not whirling blades and figures-of-eight.”

Cara laughed.

“I know that. I learned to sword-fight for the stage. And I dated a medieval reenactment enthusiast.”

“A what?”

Ser Dalius hesitated as he traced the air, adjusting his grip on the greatsword’s hilt. Cara tried to explain.

“Someone who…dresses up like a [Knight]. Or someone living in our old times.”