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There was no indication that something magical was going on behind you until you felt a sharp jab on your lower back, followed immediately by the clang of something metal hitting the floor. Schala frantically exclaimed "I'm so sorry! Does it hurt?" and placed her hand on that spot on your back.
In response, you swiftly span around, causing her to stumble forward with a gasp, right into your waiting arms. You placed your lips on her hair, blue like the sky of your home, and whispered "<span class="mu-i">You could never hurt me.</span>" She inhaled sharply in your arms, while an image came unbidden to the surface of your mind. That of the despairing Schala of your nightmare, lost in a cold, dark place, her face wet with her tears, her fingernails red with your blood, begging you to kill her before she hurt you or anyone else.
That nightmare must have affected you more than you had realized but you couldn't let it dominate your thoughts. You took her by the shoulders, gently pushed her back to her feet and smiled at her. "You lose your balance too easily, Princess. We'll have to work on that."
She stared at you wide-eyed for a moment, then let out a small, cute chuckle and that image was banished back into the depths, replaced fully by the happy girl in front of you. "We'll have to..." she repeated. Someone giggled from behind you. Probably Marle, from the sound of it.
You picked up the iron staff from the ground where it lay, then placed it on the pile that the blacksmith had indicated. You all waited in silence for the man's return. Lucca fiddled with some kind of device on her wrist, Marle kept stealing glances at Chrono, who remained his usual, stoic self. Schala stifled a yawn and looked at you sheepishly, and you couldn't decide if you wanted to laugh, hug her or kiss her tiredness away before the moment passed.
The bulky man returned with a shining staff hanging over his shoulder, holding a dull, black knife made out of the same material as the staff currently hanging on your back - rubber, he had called it? - and a sheathed thin dagger, both easily fitting in his oversized palm. He stopped in front of you with a grunt and swept his eyes across all five of you. "Y'know, walking back and forth jogged the old gears. You lot remind me of someone I met years ago, an old man with a flowing white beard, dressed in purple colorful robes like yours. He too asked for unmelted salvage and tried to pay with a coin purse full of gold. Good with machines too. He had a strange name. Baldur, or Balderich or something like that. You know him? Or what happened to him?"
That description... He could mean no one other than Balthazar, the first person you had met in this time. But just how much should you reveal to this man?
>Tell him you have met the old man and where he is now.
>Tell him you have met the old man, but not what happened to him. (half-truth)
>Tell him you don't know who he's talking about. (lie)
>Remain silent.
>Other (Write-in)
