By the next morning, gossip of Garth's arrival had spread through Oakfield like wildfire. Reaver was right - nothing about Garth was inconspicuous. And unfortunately for Garth, Hammer was quick to hear about it.

Garth had just walked outside when he saw Hammer storming up the hill towards the house. He felt like he was standing on a beach, watching a tidal wave rush towards him.

The front door closed behind him, and he guessed that Reaver had followed him outside. Sure enough, Reaver was at his side moments later, watching Hammer blankly.

"Brace yourself, Mage," he said.

"You!" Hammer roared, and Garth swore he felt the very earth shake. "How could you? Going to him instead of me! What's wrong with you?"

"Perhaps he likes his hearing intact," Reaver suggested, his hands over his ears pointedly.

"You shut your face!" Hammer shot at him, before turning back to Garth. Garth chose to remain silent.

"You honestly preferred to see this piece of work over me? Seriously?"

"Hammer, enough," Garth said firmly. He could feel a headache coming on. "I didn't know where you lived. Reaver's house gave him away. That's all there is to it."

Well, he still had to tell her that he was now staying with Reaver, but that could come later.

"Oh, I'm sure!" Hammer snapped. Garth couldn't believe how angry she was - but then, she did hate Reaver. "He did something to you, didn't he?" She rounded on Reaver. "What did you do?"

Reaver was watching the scene with an unworried smile. "Am I allowed to talk now?" he asked lightly. "Well, dear, for starters I didn't screech his ear off. I think he appreciated that. Rather thoughtful of me, wouldn't you say?"

Garth held back a sigh. Reaver knew exactly what to say in order to inflame a situation. Hammer stared at him furiously, her mouth opening and closing several times as she struggled to find something to say. Finally she gave up and turned back to Garth.

Garth held his hands out in front of him. "What do you want me to say? Honestly, Hammer, I wasn't my intention to offend you. It was a matter of convenience."

"Is it so hard to ask for directions? Really?" Hammer sighed exasperatedly, but Garth was glad to see that some of her anger had drained away. "And honestly, you Will users - why don't you ever age? Sparrow looks the same as ever, and here you are, looking like you're in your thirties! You must be at least a hundred years old!"

Reaver roared with laughter as Garth choked.

"I'm not even fifty!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"49, then." Hammer shrugged.

"We're done here!" Garth said firmly. He turned on his heel to storm back into the house. Of all the cheek…!

"No, no, don't be done!" Reaver called after him quickly. "This was just getting good! No finish-ies!"

"Fine, I'm due up at the Temple anyway!" Hammer said. "I don't like either of you! Reaver - if you don't shut up, I'll bash you in the face and disfigure you forever!"

Garth looked over his shoulder just in time to see Reaver's horrified expression, and Hammer storming away as quickly as she had come.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"She just threatened to disfigure me, that's what!" Reaver exclaimed. "If she even touches me, I'll shoot her in the face!"

Garth simply shook his head, preferring not to voice his opinion on the matter. He thought it inappropriate to admit that disfiguring Reaver would be a crime against nature, after all.

**

Reaver had been called to a meeting with the town's council. Judging by Reaver's scowl when he received the summon, he didn't enjoy these meetings one bit. Garth hoped that no one would end up shot.

He took this chance to inspect Reaver's book collection. It was huge, and Reaver had even mentioned the previous night that he had even more books in the cellar. There were fiction and non-fiction, and Garth was thrilled to discover that some were older than Reaver himself. There were titles from Albion, nearby countries such as Eire, and a couple of newer ones that Reaver had obtained in Samarkand. An ample amount of them were even in a language that Garth couldn't identify, and he was mildly impressed - he hadn't known Reaver was bilingual.

After spending some time thumbing through the volumes, Garth paused when he found his childhood favourite - The Hero of Oakvale. He smiled, remembering how often he had read it when he had nothing else to do in his gypsy camp home. He skimmed over the blurb.

…there are many conflicting reports regarding the Hero's life and his feats…

Garth remembered how much that had annoyed him as a child. He had once asked his older brother why the people hadn't written the Hero's deeds down at the time. His brother had replied carelessly that they wanted to spite Garth.

Garth looked at the book thoughtfully. Perhaps he should write about the Four Heroes, to prevent any speculation about them in the future? He was a scholar, after all. He would need the others to cooperate, and he had his doubts particularly about Reaver with that. Perhaps he could intersperse the facts with his own thoughts and experiences - that would be one way to get past any hindrances.

It would be difficult, and - he sighed - his Old Kingdom studies would probably have to wait. But he was certainly up for it.

"Are you having fun?"

Garth started and spun around. Reaver was sitting in the same chair as last night, goblet in hand, his eyes fixed on Garth.

Garth could smell the drink. Wine. He wrinkled his nose. Oh, how he abhorred the stuff. It was addictive, turned men into monsters, and if he had his way, no one would ever touch the stuff. He had barely been able to tolerate Hammer's love of the stuff when they were working together, and now he was living with Reaver, the very epitome of indulgence…

"Reaver, I have a favour to ask." The words had left his mouth before his mind had a chance to catch up.

Reaver raised an eyebrow at him and lounged back in his chair. It was remarkable how elegant he could much a normally boorish move look. "Do tell." he said simply.

Garth hesitated for a moment. Hopefully Reaver wouldn't be offended.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't drink around me," he said finally.

Reaver's bored expression turned into curiosity. "You must have the nose of a dog!" he said, glancing down at his goblet. "Why do you ask that?"

Garth cleared his throat. It suddenly felt very dry. "I have bad experiences with alcohol," he said simply, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn't, of course. Reaver regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, his face unreadable.

"Take off your monocle."

The request was so unexpected that Garth had to do a double take. "Pardon?"

"I said, take off your monocle," Reaver repeated, sounding impatient. "I've never seen you without it."

Garth felt the blood drain from his face as he shook his head.

"Come now. Do this once, and I'll give you my answer." Reaver watched him closely.

Garth hated exposing his ruined eye. He felt naked without his monocle, even if his body was clothed. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he removed the monocle with shaking hands.

Reaver considered him for a long time. Garth returned the gaze, itching to cover his sightless eye back up.

"Stop being a prick," he said finally, unable to stop himself.

Reaver didn't even flinch. "Is that a result of one of these 'bad experiences'?" he asked emotionlessly.

Garth cursed him for being so clever. "Yes." he said tersely.

"I see. You've piqued my curiosity now." Reaver smirked, and Garth's despair must have shown on his face, because he was quick to add, "Don't worry, my dear Mage, I'll not ask anymore questions today." He nodded to the monocle dangling from Garth's hand. "Put it back on. I won't drink around you anymore." There was a small table sporting a pot plant next to his chair. He emptied his drink into it without a second thought.

Garth breathed a sigh of relief and began to replace his monocle.

"Actually, I do have one more question."

Garth froze again.

"Does it have an eyelid?" Reaver grinned, and Garth snorted with laughter at the unexpected question.

"Only you would think to ask that, pirate!" he said, relieved.

"I am rather brilliant, aren't I."

Garth snapped the clasp together at the back of his head, adjusted the opaque glass over his eye, and nodded. "Yes. It still has an eyelid."

"Very intriguing. And I'm not a pirate anymore. That hobby grew tiresome after 150 years. I'm trying something new." Reaver said flippantly. Garth stared at him.

"So obeying the law is a hobby for you now?"

"More or less, yes. But I am still the King of Thieves; after all, how many thieves do you know of that steal youth?"

Garth shook his head, preferring not to think about it. He replaced The Hero of Oakvale back in its place on the shelf. He paused then, surprised to find that he actually felt better, now that Reaver had asked that ridiculous question. Surely Reaver didn't…

He looked back at his host. "Thank you," he said sincerely. Reaver waved him away.

"I prefer to get drunk alone anyway. I'm less likely to make a fool of myself that way."

Garth hadn't been referring to that, but he said no more. He turned back to the bookshelves, but he couldn't concentrate. Reaver was watching him.

"Don't mind me, Mage." Reaver said lightly, sensing Garth's discomfort. "I'm simply enjoying the view."

Garth gaped at him for a moment before turning away, his face heating up dramatically. This was the second time in 24 hours that Reaver had managed to make him blush, when he hadn't blushed in over ten years. In fact, the last time had been when he was still friendly with Lucien…

He didn't want to think about that. "What language are these books in?" he asked Reaver, to distract himself.

Reaver blinked. "Aragonian," he replied. "I'm surprised you couldn't pick it. Aren't you meant to be a scholar?"

"I'm not a linguistics expert," Garth replied flatly, not appreciating his belittlement. "Are you fluent?"

Reaver nodded. "My father was from Aragonia." he said, and suddenly it all made sense to Garth. Aragonians were supposedly the most beautiful people in the world, so it was no wonder Reaver was this attractive… and vain.

"A civil war broke out in Aragonia," Reaver continued lightly. "A group of people fled the country and came here, my father among them." He paused thoughtfully. "You know, I think that woman Sparrow married has Aragonian blood in her. I can see traces of it in her looks."

Garth shrugged. He had never met the woman - Alex, if he recalled correctly - so he couldn't make a judgment on that.

"Surely you speak some sort of Samarkand gibberish?" Reaver asked him.

Garth frowned and shook his head. "My family moved to Albion when I was three," he explained. "I've long forgotten most of my mother tongue." He could remember a few key words and a handful of profanities (mostly because his father had used them so often), but that was it. He certainly wouldn't be able to read a book in the language.

"That's a pity," Reaver said airily, picking up the book he'd been reading last night from the coffee table. "And here I assumed you'd value having that sort of knowledge."

Garth was getting annoyed. "It couldn't be helped," he said, forcing himself to remain calm. "It's too late to learn it now. My family is dead, and I know only that my tribe is in the west of Samarkand."

"Unfortunate," Reaver remarked, in that same airy voice. Garth was past annoyance at his condescension; it was downright giving him the shits. He wanted to tell Reaver to pull his head out of his backside, but knew that wouldn't accomplish anything.

"I'm going to visit Hammer," he announced instead, and with that he left the stupid Thief to his stupid book.

**

The Temple of Light was enormous. The buildings had been removed and replaced with an open, grassy courtyard. A low wall ran around the outside so that no one would fall off the side of the mountain, and whitewashed pillars marked the courtyard's corners. Plants grew against the walls and vines twisted up the pillars. In the centre of the courtyard was a small crystalline pool, a little fountain in its centre. At the far end of the courtyard was a statue of a peaceful-looking man, probably the founder of the Temple. Another larger pool was off to the far right; it probably fed the stream that ran beyond the Temple, and the entrance was simply a whitewashed archway with flowering vines growing slowly upwards.

All of this accomplished in such a short amount of time. As much as he disliked religion, Garth couldn't help but admire the simple beauty of the place.

Hammer was off to the left, supervising a small group of young monks as they practiced hand-to-hand combat techniques that Garth didn't really care for. When Hammer spotted him, she called an end to the session and hurried over to him, her pupils watching her curiously.

"Finally visiting me, are you?" she asked, by way of greeting.

"Enough, Hammer," Garth growled. His nerves were already thin on account of Reaver.

Hammer blinked. "All right, I meant nothing by it, really! Come and sit down so we can chat!" She led him to the larger pool and hauled herself up onto the wall, her back against the pillar there. Garth chose to simply sit beside the water.

He looked up at her. Now that she wasn't yelling at him irrationally, he had a chance to really absorb her. She had aged beautifully, probably because of her active lifestyle. She had lost weight, and gained more muscle - if she hadn't been able to snap Garth in two with her bare hands before, she almost certainly could now. Her hair was lighter and her skin tanned; she spent a lot of time in the sun, Garth guessed. She was wearing a similar outfit to the rest of the monks, except she had skipped the waist cord and the gloves. She pulled her gigantic weapon from its sling on her back with ease and dropped it at her feet.

Garth noticed that some monks were wearing the old robes - they were probably older, and otherwise unfit for training. He smiled. Hammer had done a brilliant job.

"Can you just imagine my surprise when I heard that you'd gone to Reaver's place? Well, they didn't say it was you, but I guessed from the description," Hammer was saying. Garth had forgotten how chatty she could be. "You even spent the night there! You can guess what the people are saying, right? They reckon you're his new lover-" Garth choked at this "-and some of them are real jealous, let me tell you." She looked at Garth sharply. "He really didn't try anything funny, did he?" she asked.

Garth was able to keep the blush off his face this time. "He's made a few lewd comments, but it's nothing out of the ordinary for him," he said nonchalantly. He took a breath. Hammer's reaction was not going to be pretty. "I'm living with him now." he said.

It took Hammer a long moment to react. When she finally did, her yell echoed around the Temple, startling everyone there.

"What?"

"Calm yourself," Garth groaned.

"Like hell! What's wrong with you? You know what he's like!" Hammer sounded angrier than she had that morning. "He could shoot you in the face for even daring to live in his house!"

"It was his idea," Garth said simply. Hammer looked at him suspiciously.

"He's done something to you, hasn't he. Admit it."

"He hasn't," Garth groaned. He disliked badmouthing someone when they weren't around to defend themselves. It didn't sit right with him. "It's fine, Hammer. I can keep an eye on him this way."

"Oh yeah, good point!" Hammer's tone changed so fast that Garth thought he might have whiplash. "Did Sparrow ask you to come here too, then? He asked me, and I didn't know what I could do when I got here, but Reaver suggested I should reinstate the Temple of Light, though I think he just wanted me out of his face-"

"I haven't seen Sparrow yet," Garth said, interrupting her rant. Hammer blinked.

"Huh? Why was Reaver the first one you saw?" she glared at him. "You're not telling me something! Are you on his side?"

Garth had to take a deep breath to keep himself from Fireballing her into Oblivion. He spoke slowly, mostly to belittle her.

"I told you, it was a matter of convenience. I wrote to Sparrow last night, and sent it off this morning. That you and Sparrow are against Reaver when you should be helping each other out is ridiculous."

"If it's so ridiculous, then why are you still staying with him?" Hammer challenged. Garth wanted to bash his head against the wall.

"To keep an eye on him! Do you need me to repeat myself another twenty times?" he spat. Hammer scowled and didn't reply.

They sat in silence after that. Garth suspected Hammer still didn't trust him because of his affiliation with Lucien, and that this was just an excuse to voice that distrust. Garth hoped that Sparrow would be more understanding.

He watched a small group of monks gather by the archway. He could hear them talking - they were planning on having a race around Oakfield. They stretched their muscles and planned their course, and it was only when they had taken off that Hammer spoke again.

"No more pacifism for this Temple," she said. "If Oakfield is ever attacked again, you can be damn sure we'll be fit and ready to fight back!"

"You teach what you learnt with the warrior monks, I assume," Garth said.

Hammer nodded. "Oh, they were brilliant, Garth, but I needed to come home." she admitted. "And I was so happy when Reaver suggested I fix the Temple to my liking. Sparrow may rule Albion, but this town is now Reaver's." She looked down at the town. "He's done all this in two years, and he still isn't finished. I heard the council isn't happy with some of his plans, though."

Garth cocked an eyebrow. No wonder Reaver had been so dirty when he was called to the meeting this morning. "Such as?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Hammer shrugged. "I know he wants to put a port in, a little way down the beach. It would increase tourism and trade. The old farts on the council reckon it'll cost too much money." she scowled. "He's also made it compulsory for all kids to go to school - for free too. They don't like that either."

"Free?" Garth echoed. That didn't sound like Reaver.

"He seriously has a thing for education," Hammer said, shrugging again. "Like, he told me a few months ago that all of his crew had to be able to read and write competently before they could join. He also said that he'd never have sex with anyone stupid, which is why I thought he might have tried something with you," she grinned, and Garth turned his face away to keep himself from blushing. "Gender doesn't matter to him, but brains do. Anyway, most people around here are still getting back on their feet, so they wouldn't be able to afford sending their kids off to school. I guess there are some things Reaver values more than money. There's nothing he values more than himself though - he's a selfish dick." She laughed.

Garth didn't tell her that Reaver had tried to cheer him up earlier. She would twist the story against Reaver, and though Garth couldn't blame her for it, he didn't want to hear it. He had also decided that he wanted to keep that little memory for himself, at least for now. How many people could claim that Reaver had been needlessly nice to them?

Instead, Garth changed the subject, telling Hammer about his idea of writing about the four Heroes. Hammer listened intently.

"Sounds good to me!" she said when he'd finished, and he breathed a sigh of relief - he had been seeking her permission, after all. "I reckon Sparrow will get behind it too, though you'll probably have to give him some time to answer the harder questions." Garth nodded. "Dunno about Reaver though," she added.

Garth shrugged. He would wait and see.

"Ah, there you are."

Garth looked over his shoulder. Reaver had just walked through the archway and was now approaching Garth and ignoring Hammer entirely. He flopped down beside Garth - another gesture that only he could make completely graceful.

"I thought you might have gotten lost," he said, smirking. Garth shook his head.

"This Temple is on a mountain that looms over Oakfield. I would have to be very stupid or completely blind to get lost here."

"It could happen, I suppose," Reaver replied. He looked at Garth closely. "Are you still pissy?" he asked suddenly.

Garth blinked. "Well, no." he said. "But you should watch yourself. It isn't wise to anger someone who can electrocute you."

Reaver laughed. "Pity, because you are so entertaining when you're cranky!" he said. "But then you stormed off and ruined all my fun! What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you?" Hammer interrupted before Garth could reply. "It isn't funny to stir people up, you know."

Reaver looked up at her blankly. "Yes, it is." he said flatly.

"No, it's not! Good god, do you know how much more likable you would be if you be if you just considered others for a moment?"

"Oh please, do tell me. I'm dying to know."

"You rotten sod, you don't care! I should crush your little gun, and your pistol too!"

At that, Reaver roared with laughter. "Darling, I assure you, if you were to crush my 'gun' as you say, it certainly wouldn't be a small job!"

Hammer stared at him and Garth turned away, hiding his laughter.

"Ah, you do have an off-switch! Mage, remember that one."

"He has a name."

"Does he? I just assumed he was called Mage."

Garth couldn't bite back his chuckles now, though he couldn't help but notice how Hammer was usually the one to pick a fight with Reaver. He would have to tell her privately that it wasn't a good look, and it certainly didn't make Garth want to 'side' with her.

He wanted to give Reaver the benefit of the doubt for a while longer. He hadn't actually broken the law yet, after all, and most of the time he was quite pleasant to be around. And anyway, everyone had their reasons for being the way they were, and Reaver was over two centuries old; he had a hell of a story to tell.

Garth glanced sidelong at him and hid his smile.