(Jehan/Mordred for Soujin.)

"And what do you do?"

"I-- well, I can read Hebrew."

The Englishman laughs. "On purpose?"

"I like old languages," Jehan protests, needing to explain. "They're not dead as long as I know them."

The man's dark eyes grow gentler. "Is that so? Then I'll teach you another."

When he gets back to headquarters, Zara is nowhere to be seen; he is left to seek out Florian for himself.

He's sitting at the familiar table among the maps and dispatches and the neglected, guttering candles, his head buried in his arms. He looks up as Luther sets down the packet of letters, his eyes bleak and defiant. Luther understands: one of Zara's duties is to protect him from being seen like this, to save his pride.

But Luther has been with him a long time now. He rests an arm across Florian's worn shoulders and stands there, silently.