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She’d wanted to look into the details more. Find a proper report about what actually happened. But it had been difficult, to say the least. She’d been buried in work constantly. Whenever she returned from a mission, no matter how swiftly she’d been able to complete it, there’d always been another one waiting for her. She’d never found the opportunity to ask her direct superior about it, much less Miles himself, who’d supposedly been there.

...Hmm?

Her eye twitched.

She’d never asked? Never been time?

No. That wasn’t right. She’d visited home again, hadn’t she? There must’ve been--

“Are you unwell?” came the voice of the Methusel who’d been guiding them.

She suddenly realized that they had all stopped walking--including herself--and were now in some sort of large, warmly lit dining chamber. Ugh. Had she gotten that lost in thought? How unprofessional. She tried not to cringe as she apologized. “Yes, I’m sorry. I-I was just... not paying attention. It has been a long day, I fear.”

“You have a troubled soul,” the Methusel said.

Her brow furrowed a little. Again? Wait, was this the same Methusel from earlier? It was horrible to admit, but she couldn’t actually tell and was afraid to ask. The shifting colors and textures of their bark made it quite difficult to keep track of who was who.

Rather than questioning it, she elected to say nothing and simply sit down at the long table. Dishes were already arriving from a connecting room. It was a bit surreal to see more Methusel carrying dinner plates full of food. She’d known all along they worked for the Old Wardens, of course, but she hadn’t realized that served as waiters and maybe even chefs, too.

Before she could actually inspect the food, however, the same Methusel spoke up again.

“If you are in a state of emotional distress or discomfort, we may be able to help,” said the tree man. “Some among us specialize in treating such conditions.”

What the heck?

Ozolos answered for her. ‘A kind offer, but we must politely decline. We outsiders have our own ways of handling these things.’

The Methusel seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he bowed and moved away.

‘They may attempt to lay hands on you,’ said Ozolos privately. ‘Do not let them.’ The reaper’s tone wasn’t doing much for her anxiety.

‘A-alright...’