"Oh, Sweet, empty-headed Bel. Is that what you thought I was going to do? Break it?" Syrce's laughter reverberated through the room. "I would never dream of breaking a priceless relic!"
"That's good." Noble was both comforted and unnerved by the Saint's sudden change in mood. "Then...what were you–"
Syrce spun the handle of the mirror gently between her fingers. "I told you this little thing makes dreams come true, didn't I? I was just going to give Titus an...attitude adjustment."
"His attitude is fine!" Noble winced, knowing that she was the biggest proponent for him to change. "What I mean is... he is suffering from an ailment. Isn't that right, Titus?"
Flint broke from whatever trance he was in, the fear still etched in the corners of his strained smile. "Yes, Blondie is right! I am a very sick man."
"You think so?" Syrce stopped examining the mirror to pierce him with her gaze.
"Y-yes. Absolutely. Tell her how ill I am." Flint looked at Noble, pleading pitifully with his eyes.
The man had a loud mouth and a hothead, but he was not a complete idiot. He could not dig himself out of the situation, so he handed the shovel to someone more capable.
"Flint is recovering from a disease." Noble offered. "A problem with speaking."
"What sort of a disease affects a man like that?" Syrce tilted her head. She looked at the others in the cohort, but their faces gave no clue to the answer.
Noble coughed. What sickness could she claim? Misogyny? Idiocy?
"Where I come from, we call it Foot in Mouth disease." Noble kept her face straight despite the audible guffaw from Helie.
Roan inhaled deeply, making his laugh come out as a most dire sigh. With composure beyond his years, Aether bowed his head solemnly as if the diagnosis were fatal.
And Flint?
He sputtered and spurted as if he might have an aneurysm.
Looking on the man with pity, Syrce pursed her lips. "Titus, I had no idea! Why did you not let me know sooner? Even the name sounds painful."
"I…uh…never…" Flint was a mix of indignation and confusion.
"Yes, yes, I understand," Noble nodded seriously. "What Titus means is that he should never have maligned Lady Mae. His words against Drusus were spoken out of concern for the young man's health."
"Concern, that's it!" Flint nodded enthusiastically. That was something he could get behind. "I am all sorts of concerned. Both for Dru and Lady Mae. My concern came out, uh, overly enthusiastic!"
"I see," Syrce raised one eyebrow at him. "So your words came from a place of caring? Not from rude disregard for others due to this...sickness?"
"Exactly, My Lady. You have seen through me and read me like a book just now. That is why you are the commander." Flint pulled at his collar.
"What Titus wants to say is that he is sorry," Noble covertly kicked backwards, hitting the man's shin with her heel.
"Ow-oh yes! Very sorry…" Flint hobbled back a step. "Either way, no need for an adjustment of any kind, My Lady!"
Syrce hummed. "It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. It healed Drusus, but asking it to change someone's personality would be beyond even its capability. Unless you want to try traveling through it to fix this Foot-in-mouth ailment."
"No, My Lady. I could not ask that of you!" Flint clasped his hands. "I will heal myself in due course."
The Saint tapped the top of the mirror against her chin. "Yes, perhaps that is for the best. I already recieved a whole new world for my people. I shouldn't be greedy by trying to ask for more miracles. Or should I?"
"Greed has been the downfall of many." Noble could think of many who had fallen victim to their insatiable thirst for more.
"The Empire is a good example of that." Roan pointed out.
With a sigh, Syrce shook her head. "Indeed, it is. If only they hadn't taken so many down with them."
Noble did not know everything about the Empire, but she did know, based on Syrce's words and the bit Roan had gathered in his time with the Imperialists, that their influence had stretched far and wide across multiple realms. They had also taken part in the Doom War on the side of the gods, leading to the death of Syrce's father. Noble could feel the heaviness in the other woman's soul.
"No…" the Saint turned her back on the group. "I will not test the limits of the mirror's power simply because I can. That would be foolish."
"And you are not a fool," Noble smiled, happy that the lady no longer seemed inclined to forcibly pull Flint through the mirror.
Lifting the looking glass, Syrce stared at her own reflection. "I have been called many things, but that was not one of them. Still…" the Saint shifted the mirror to look over her shoulder. She eyed Flint carefully. "I wish you were nicer."
Flint flinched, scurrying back from Syrce's scrutinizing gaze. "I will be! You can consider me cured! From this moment on, no cross word will escape these handsome lips!"
Noble felt her mouth drop open. He was serious!
Which was both terrific and tragic.
Terrific because the man had vowed in front of a Saint to improve, and tragic because there was no way that he would ever be able to follow through with his promise. Change like that could not happen instantly.
Syrce rubbed her temple.
"For both our sakes, you had better be true to your promise. If I hear another unkind word against a living soul, I will rethink my plan to cure you of your hideous disease."
"What about a non-living soul?" Flint held up one finger.
"What?" The Saint squinted.
"If I say an unkind word against someone no longer living, will that count towards–" Flint paused as Noble stepped out of his way.
The panic in the other Master's face said it all.
Syrce turned, the energy in her eyes pulsing. "Try it and find out..."
"No ma'am. If it is all the same to you, I will be keeping my thoughts to myself." Flint felt his face redden.
Noble wondered if he had ever called someone ma'am in his entire life. She doubted even his own mother had gotten that kind of respect from the curmudgeon.
Syrce blinked, and the serenity in her grey eyes returned. "Very good. Perhaps I should have called on Orrin to talk some sense into you instead of Drusus. Alas, he would not answer my call..."
"Answer your call?" Noble found the words confusing. "Did you try to bring him here?"
The Saint attached the mirror to her belt once more. "I thought about it, but it did not work. Perhaps he has some hidden power that allows him to resist the pull of the mirror. We will have to ask him about it when he comes."
Syrce clapped her hands.
"Well, that was an adventure!" She chuckled. "This day is just full of surprises. But we have been idle long enough. I will head to shore, change clothes, and get to work. I can't let Mae have all the fun of leadership, can I?"
"But, Drusus?" Noble glanced in the direction that he had been led.
"He will come when he is ready. There is no need to worry about him. Now, are you coming?" Syrce waved them forward.
But Noble shook her head. "I need a moment to gather my thoughts on what we all saw. We will be there shortly."
"I'll leave you to it then. Don't be too long!" Syrce turned, the looking glass swinging from her embroidered belt.
When she was no longer in sight, Flint parted his lips. All four other Masters pounced on him at once, covering his mouth.
"No!"