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Most notably, however, was what Agam had done in his role as the eldest of all his siblings. Each time, when a brother or sister was born, Agam did something that bordered on criminal or even psychotic, but the explanations that he provided for his actions afterwards always seemed to be too strange for either of those two labels to entirely stick.

For Zeff’s great grandfather, the act had been kidnapping. One night, Agam stole the boy away while everyone else was asleep. One of the other reapers, Ozolos, noticed the kidnapping quickly but decided not to alert anyone, for that reaper had himself been quite the notorious oddball--and indeed, eventually became the one who resurrected Agam at the age of fourteen.

According to what Ozolos claimed to have witnessed that night, Agam had taken the newborn child out into a particularly intense rainstorm in order to “baptize him in the lifeblood of a lhugleoth so that his line will be forever strengthened.”

Which was quite the incredible justification by an eleven-year-old boy, Axiolis had always thought.

Agam, of course, had been punished severely and never treated the same way again when children were present, except perhaps by Ozolos.

And as Agam grew older, the stories about him only continued to grow stranger.

Here and now, however, in the company of this marshal, Zeff found himself wanting to ask this person about him.

Especially because... these newly unlocked memories from Axiolis regarding Sparrows... were adding something to the mix. Something that neither of them could quite detect, as of yet. It made little sense, because those memories seemed to be from a time long before Agam had even been born, and yet...

There was a similar feeling embedded therein. Somewhere.

“...Did you once know a man named Agam Elroy?” said Zeff, still with two voices.

“You ignore my questions and ask that instead?” said Graves, finally turning to look at him again. “Just how much of an inconsiderate asshole are you, Water Dragon? Did you hear nothing I said?”

“Oh, I heard. I heard very well, in fact. But did you? It seems to me that you have not been listening to yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“‘Grip the torch with both hands.’ That’s what you said. And that’s what you should do, too.”

Graves made no response.

“We do not need your protection,” said Zeff. “We are the Rainlords of Sair. The blood of the Armans. If you know even one thing of my kin, then you should know that.”