Also unedited :,) please enjoy

There were better ways to spend a midday break than being in the Roving River was starting to rise due to the recent storm, which meant that there were plants to be harvested. If Tobias wanted to feel musty, he could crawl through a cave with Fink.

And yet, there he was, talking to a man suspected of treason.

Talking to a man who'd helped somebody escape after attacking the king.

It wasn't like he was helping various prisoners escape. He was checking in on those who were locked away.

There was no way he could go out into the city to help people if there were others suffering below his feet.

"How are you, commander?" Tobias asked, pulling at his dark green shirt sleeves. "I know you're not from Avenia, but I figured you might like to know that King Jaron agreed to send aid to Avenia."

The dungeon was illuminated with summer sunlight, which meant the flea-ridden rats would hide for a little while longer. Tobias wanted to see Regar, wanted to let him know that his situation wasn't as dismal as it could be with somebody to talk to. However, talking to him was almost like talking to a brick wall.

"I thought I'd mention that Jaron- ah, the king will likely let you go, free of charge. He thinks you didn't have anything to do with the Faola escape."

Regar coughed, "That's kind of him."

"King Jaron is a good man, he's trying to set a precedence of treating people with respect," Tobias rambled. A spider crawled up the bars in Regar's cell.

"Good, good, it is vital to see another human being as a person, you muddle lines when you don't."

"You're feeling chatty today! Not that I'm complaining, just noticing."

"I'll be getting another visitor," Regar brushed down the front of his leather jerkin. "I don't speak much, but it's still odd being in silence."

He was right about the silence.

The Carthyan dungeons were almost empty. Prisoners were kept at various distances apart when they could be. Apparently, it was in an attempt to prevent anybody from leading a prison revolt, but Tobias had only heard whispers of this.

Silence grew painful after a while.

If Jaron knew Tobias was talking to a man who was suspected of treason, he'd probably forbid Tobias from speaking to Regar. Or he wouldn't. With each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to predict what Jaron was going to do. Just that morning, he'd canceled every meeting he had planned.

Only a fool would try to control Jaron, and only Imogen and Mott could get him to slow down long enough to tell somebody else what he was up to.

Regar plucked a piece of straw from his massive beard, "Tell me, Lord Branch, is it true that they caught Mireldis Thay and locked her in her rooms?"

"Ah, well, uh, we think we have Mireldis Thay," Tobias kicked at the ground.

"Perhaps she has you. Have you considered that?"

"She has- oh! You're joking. My wife isn't sure about it, about Mireldis being our prisoner, she thinks it's dangerous. Ah, well, especially because she was able to hurt the king."

"And the king imprisoned me for taking justice into my own hands."

"Roden justifies it by saying you let Mireldis go."

"By slipping?"

Tobias frowned. He had to stick with Roden's account. Regar let the Faola go on purpose, not by tripping over his own feet. "It's just to make sure that what you did was completely an accident."

"You don't need to explain," Regar held his hands up. "But take this warning with you, my lord, there aren't many people as forgiving as your king."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, not at all. I learned long ago not to go head to head with royalty. Mireldis Thay is a princess no matter what she wears or how she hides," said Regar. He rubbed at both of his eyes, and sat down on his cot. "She knows how to play multiple sides while wearing a smile. It is a sin to assume a princess will remain in her tower. They are much more deadly than any headstrong prince."

Had Regar ever said so much in one moment before? Tobias wasn't sure. He hadn't said that much since Tobias began coming to visit him.

There was an edge to his words. Something lurking.

The hidden truths and twisted facts were tiring Tobias. He missed the days of honesty. When people didn't hide behind names and faces.

Although, he was a member of the royal court. It was very hard to find sincerity even without the threat or Mireldis Thay and her lust for Feall's head.

"Did you know her?" Tobias asked, clasping his hands behind his back. "Did you help Mireldis Thay escape on that day Jaron was attacked?"

"You're luring me into the noose, aren't you?"

Tobias took a step back, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to react to Regar's comment.

He'd almost forgotten hhow close he was to Jaron, the supreme power in Carthya. Of course Regar would see Tobias not as a friend, but as somebody trying to draw out a confession.

And it stung.

It hurt knowing that Regar's silence was weighed down by an impending punishment. It kept him quiet. Regar's hesitation to speak came because he didn't trust Tobias.

Didn't trust him to keep their conversation between the two of them.

He tried to shove his shock away with a chuckle the same way Jaron pushed through awful news by making a joke. "Don't worry, Regar, I'm a doctor. I save people, rather than leave them to die. And I think you'll be able to plead your case tonight."

"I did help someone that night," Regar nodded. "But I didn't help the bandit you and so many

others are bent on finding."

"Then who was it?"

Somebody's footsteps echoed down the stairs. Regar's beard twitched up. He was smiling. "I

mustered the courage to speak to my daughter. I helped her chase chickens back into a pen."

"They should make chicken chasing a sport," Tobias said, trying to keep the conversation even.

It wasn't his intention to catch Regar in a lie and turn him over to Jaron.

"I didn't think you'd be here, Lord Branch," said Merry, bowing till her short hair brushed the ground.

"Making a new friend. Have you met Commander Regar?"

She nodded, "I have. But I came here for another friend of mine. Have you seen Ayvar? She's been here for several weeks, she has red hair."

"They moved her to the tower ages ago," Regar said. "Word is that the king released her yesterday."

"They moved Ayvar?"

"Aye, lass, you won't find her anywhere near here."

"What do you have in the basket?" Tobias asked, he'd heard tales of the legendary lemon tarts being served at the Dragon's Keep. Maybe he'd get one.

"It's not important anymore," Merry shrugged, but she withdrew two wrapped muffins. "You're welcome to have these, I was going to give them to Ayvar, but it seems that my morning plans are canceled."

"How's your tavern?" Regar asked, holding his hand out for a muffin. He smirked when Tobias conceded and gave out one of the muffins.

A wide smile broke across Merry's face, "it's going well! Dawn's convinced that I'm out drinking every night because I have a tendency to sleep in, but I'm just tired, that's all."

"Best be getting your sleep, girl. Or you'll be strung out like Master Branch here."

"Hey! I am not strung out!" Tobias exclaimed, crossing his arms.

There was too many things that needed to be taken care of. Too many people to be patched up. Tobias knew that he was the best at doing what he needed done. It was useless depending on another person when he was completely capable of handling a situation on his own.

Besides, he didn't want to be let down by relying on another person, nor did he want to disappoint a person who was relying on him.

That's why he wrote every paper, sewed every stitch, and checked on every patient.

Maybe he was a little high strung.

All he needed was his own.

And Amarinda, of course, but she was a force of nature all on her own. He kept up with her, and she kept up with him. Amarinda rose to every challenge. Nothing scared her. She knew her abilities, and she knew what was expected of her.

It was her efficiency and understanding that caught Tobias's eye all those years ago.

Merry was laughing. Laughing in front of a man convicted under suspicious of treason.

He caught himself thinking about how nice it must've been to walk into a dungeon and be able to talk to anyone in sight. Merry's fearless friendliness was something many people lacked.

It was a good talent to be envious of.

"I am, I am," she insisted. "Do you know where Ayvar went, Lord Branch?"

Tobias shook his head, "I'm not the person to talk to regarding her. Captain Harlowe probably knows, you could ask him."

"I'd hate to leave the two of you, it's a little rude to come barging in on a conversation and then leave less than a minute later."

"The muffins make up for it," Regar's beard was littered with crumbs.

"Glad you liked them, Dawn's selling them to pocket a few more garlins today," Merry said.

Market day! Farmers and crafters from all over Carthya selling their best products. Tobias had a list of things he needed for the phsyician's chambers. He'd try to take Amarinda with him this time as he pawed through every peddler's stash of herbs.

He'd heard somewhere that somebody was bringing tools from Mendenwal to sell. Those tools would be the envy of every doctor in Drylliad.

"Ah, lass, do you mind taking a message back to my men?" Regar asked. He then looked to Tobias, "You don't need to worry about me giving away secrets."

"I'd be disappointed if you tried with me so close," said Tobias, stepping a little to the left to make room for Merry.

"I'll do my best to remember," Merry nodded.

"Tell them to wait for a command from me," Regar said, he didn't appear to be hiding anything. "Unless they're told about lines, they know what I mean when I say that."

"But I don't," Tobias pointed out.

"It's code. If Lord Row leaves without me, my men are to stay near until I can return to them. If I return to them."

Merry held her hand to her forehead, and brought it down. "Sir, yes, sir! Now, if you two will escuse me, I've got a friend to track."

Tobias watched her spin on her heels and race back up the stairs. She seemed nice enough, a little rushed, but nice. And the muffins she made really were delicious. Ayvar was lucky to have a friend who'd track her down.

He looked back to Regar, who'd steepled his fingers together.

"I think I'll take my leave too, there's much that needs to be done today," Tobias clasped his hands together. "I hope you can understand."

"Your conversation makes things a little more bearable," said Regar.

"Thanks. Some people grow bored."

"Don't worry about them."

"I'll try not to, but I am a doctor. And my dearest friend is a king who knows no fear. It's my job to worry."

Amarinda ultimately declined going to market day when Tobias offered. King Oberson finally worked up the courage to return home on the premise that Mireldis Thay was locked away in the castle tower. He'd leave as soon as market day ended. Lord Thomas Row also expressed his desires to leave, but only after Regar was released from the dungeon.

It was entirely possible that Lord Row would be staying there for several months.

Market day was bursting with people and food, even as the sun began to set.

Tobias wouldn't let himself be tempted with the scent of spun sugar and roasting pears. Not again. Not this time. He'd saved as many garlins as he could for these tools, and he wouldn't waste them on food.

Although he'd love at least-

No! He had to think of his profession!

Tobias pushed his hair out of his eyes, and soldiered past the carts and carts of food.

The fabric and ribbon carts came next. A page wearing an official looking tunic held out his hand for a green ribbon, giving a handful of garlins in return. The page bowed at Tobias, and then continued to his next cart.

He wondered who would be wearing that ribbon the following morning.

Vendors left and right hawked their wares. Some vendors had already left, leaving empty spaces every so often. The noise and temptation would've been much stronger during the afternoon. Tobias wouldn't have stood a chance. He would've bought every bucket of spun sugar he could, even if it meant throwing it all up the very next day.

Lamplight glinted off of a cart full of throwing knives. He'd finally reached the metal carts.

Please let the tools still be there.

"Excuse me," Tobias said, marching right up to one of the vendors. "I'm looking for medical tools, do you know where I could find them?"

It was like he'd walked into one of the hunting kennels with a piece of meat. Every vendor began shouting all of their items.

It almost reached the level of madness that some regents' meetings had.

There were too many options, too many vendors to choose from. Tobias had to check every single one. If it weren't for the list he'd made, he would've bought every single tool available for purchase.

"They used this tool to pull an arrow out of King Aranscot's face!"

"This tool saved a queen from the western lands!"

"Only the best surgeons carry these! You'll need it for cutting demons out of a man!"

Unfortunately for the last vendor, Tobias had no intentions of slicing an unseen entity out of a patient. His whole goal was to save, not to kill.

The tool that was supposedly used to pull an arrow from King Aranscot's face resembled a pair of tongs. However, unlike the average pair of tongs, this pair had a screw in the middle with a series of tiny hooks at the end.

Arrow wounds were uncommon during days of peace, but it never hurt to be prepared.

The tongs felt heavy in Tobias's bag, but welcome. This tool would save, and maybe Tobias would be known for pulling an arrow from somebody's face.

Hopefully it wouldn't be Jaron's.

He stood in the middle of the street several strides away from the other vendors, watching the life and bustle of market day. Oberson's soldiers intermingled with the other civilians. Pages darted left and right to fulfill their tasks before the vendors all left.

Ahead of him was lamplight and spun sugar.

Behind him was the scent of sorrow and the gaping holes leading down to the Vaults.

He frowned at the sight of the gutless buildings. People used to live there, but they'd been driven out.

Driven out by thieves and plague.

Driven out by the wicked presence of the Vaults. They'd always be there. Always lingering below the city.

Testifying that not every Carthyan wanted to move forward to a better kingdom.

They would fester in the ground for eternity like the corpses it hid.

People might be there- might be hiding in the Vaults. Roden told stories about what he'd seen down there, but only after he'd had an unhealthy dose of Libeth's liquors.

Tobias was ready to return to the castle. He'd done what he needed to do. It was time to snuggle up to his wife and write letters to King Aranscot's court to find out who'd pulled the arrow from King Aranscot's face.

It wouldn't hurt to check behind him. Wouldn't hurt to locate a person in need.

The tugging of his heart grew too strong, but he ignored it. Tobias took one step forward, and then another. One of Oberson's men stomped past. He was followed by two others.

One more step, one more step.

A man was selling toys. He held up a winding monkey that played the cymbals.

The music playing monkey almost drowned out the sounds of a scuffle.

Tobias spun on his heels, his bag smacking his leg and the tool inside jostled. The soldiers that walked past were gathered together. They moved together in perfect sync. A girl with scarlet hair struggled to get above them, and yet, she hadn't screamed for help.

She didn't need to.

Shouldering his bag, Tobias bolted toward the soldiers, trying to gather the courage to yell.

Somebody in a patched black cloak came rocketing from a second story window, landing on one of the soldiers before Tobias could reach them.

"Stop!" Tobias shouted. "Let her go!"

But not one person listened.

The patched cloak was all too familiar. Tobias skittered to a stop and pushed the hair from his eyes. The Faola had returned despite Renlyn Karise still being under a watchful eye. He kicked at the knees of one soldier, but the other three were focused on their other target.

How could he help? How could he help?!

Tobias called for help, foolishly turning his back to the Faola and Oberson's soldier. Was he too far? He swore he saw a page looking at them. Maybe it was too dark. Maybe the fight was encased in too much shadow to be seen by one of the vendors.

Somebody grabbed the back of his shirt.

Somebody dragged him back into the tight grip of a seasoned warrior.

An ice cold blade came too close to his neck. Tobias's heart began to beat as if it knew it would soon have to stop.

"Let him go," the Faola barked, his voice carried the harshness of a snakebite.

The harshness of a fatal wound being washed with salt water.

"Or what, you'll kill me?" The soldier laughed. "You've got to choose. King Oberson is no fool. He knows that the girl in the castle is just a cover for you, he knows the man in the dungeons isn't who he says he is."

"Nobody is who they say they are anymore," Tobias choked, the sword at his throat threatening to cut his skin.

The Faola took a step back, moonlight glinting off of the messy stitches in the shoulders of his tunic. "I will not ask again, let him go."

"You'll have to choose between the girl and the regent."

Tobias watched the Faola as he stepped back again. His saber hung at his side, waiting to be used. The man who'd once held Tobias hostage was now the only person who could save him.

"You're not stupid enough to kill the ambassador's husband," the Faola bowed ever so slightly. "Please forgive me, Lord Branch. You're more capable than you know."

Picking up on combat signals was something Tobias never mastered. He couldn't figure it out no matter how many times Roden tried to teach him.

But this time was different.

As the Faola charged towards the soldier, Tobias flung his head backwards as hard as he could. Stars shot across his vision. A sword clattered to the ground. He stumbled, tripping over the fallen soldier. The Faola dragged him out of the way, and kicked the soldier in the head.

"He won't be waking up for a long time," the Faola mused. He turned to face Tobias. "Get out of here, you'll get hurt."

Tobias rubbed the back of his throbbing head, "Ayvar is going to need help, I can't-"

"Stay out of this, you're going to get into trouble and it's not your concern. If you really want to help, you'll leave."

"But-!"

The Faola didn't stay to listen to Tobias's argument. He jumped to his feet, the buildings all twirling around him. The spot where he'd thrown his head back into the soldier's face was still tender.

With a swirl of his patched cloak, the Faola vanished into darkness, braving the impenetrable darkness of the Vaults to drag Ayvar back to the surface.

Tobias wasn't the type to lead hundreds of men across a muddy field in hopes of winning a battle.

He was the type to fix the first person he saw.

To ask him to stay behind despite knowing somebody was in the hands of death was to ask the sun to cease shining.

He had no lamp and no sword, but he had his bag full of bandages and a knowledge of right and wrong.

Staying behind in this situation was wrong.

Tobias shoved his hair from his eyes, ignoring the metallic ice scraping in his veins, and took a step. He took another step, and another. His boots slapped against the moonlit stones.

Courage raced through his bones faster than his heart beat. No turning back, no turning back.

Abandon all hope, said the door to the vaults. There is no kindness here.

But they were wrong. Tobias nearly stumbled as he stepped into the Vaults, darkness threatening to close his throat. He would bring kindness. He would stop the soldiers from harming the Faola and Ayvar, and bring them all back to the surface.

The steps seemed to grow longer.

So he stepped even farther.

"Let go!" Someone bellowed.

"Catch him!"

"It's a her, you idiot!"

"Catch her!"

Swords left their scabbards, they hit against each other in the darkness. Tobias paused for only a moment to rub his eyes as they adjusted to the moonless Vaults.

"I got her!" Yelled one man, followed by "She's gotten away!"

Somebody shouted for Ayvar. The answer came in the form of a loud thud.

Tobias stumbled into a wide room, one of the walls was missing, a low archway letting in minimal light. Five figures fought against each other. Three longswords against a saber and a dagger.

"Hey!" Tobias yelled, freeing his pack from his shoulder.

What in the Devils' names was he doing down there!?

A soldier charged toward Tobias, and he swung his bag as hard as he could at the soldier's head.

Though he missed the blow, the bag swung around the soldier's sword. Tobias recognized the entanglement before his opponent did, and he tugged, tossing both the bag and the sword to a shadowed corner.

He could barely make out the silhouette of the Faola and Ayvar, who were fighting side by side. Other gaping holes punctured the walls. They had to be staircases down, but Tobias didn't know. He'd never been this far into the Vaults before.

The soldier roared at Tobias, and lunged for his neck.

However, that was the one defense Tobias managed to catch onto after hours of training with Roden. The soldier was attacking from the front, he could see the action unfurl. Tobias ducked down, and stepped to the side. His opponent's shins smashed into the stairs leading to the surface.

"Take the path!" Ayvar said to the Faola, stepping in front of him. "I'll follow you!"

The Faola nodded, and dashed into the farthest darkened doorway. Ayvar's dagger locked against one of the soldiers'-

And the fight almost came to a standstill.

"Take us to her, and we won't slit your throat," said the soldier facing Ayvar.

She turned her face to Tobias. "And what about him?"

"He's seen too much."

They were going to kill him.

Tobias backed towards the open wall, his hands balled into pathetic little fists.

"No," Ayvar snapped. "I won't move."

"Then I'll cut you down where you stand."

The soldier who'd initially fought with Tobias recovered from the blow to his shins. He drew a knife, a short little thing used for cutting meat.

Soon it would be cutting through Tobias.

Swords clashed again. Tobias looked to the two soldiers by Ayvar as they rushed down the steps after the Faola.

She was running towards him.

The third soldier ran past Ayvar, following his fellow men down the stairs. Tobias stared. There was a hand threatening to rip his arm off.

For the second time that night, somebody was dragging him backward.

"No!" He pushed away from Ayvar. "Can't you see? They did this on purpose! They're going to kill him!"

"Her," Ayvar corrected. "Patches has a foot in the grave. We need to-"

"Save our own skins!? Is that what you're going to say!?"

He was too angry to feel the chilling fingers of fear that surely reached for his heart. His hands shook.

There was something he needed.

Tobias pulled a ring from his fourth finger; his wedding band. "Get to the first Carthyan soldier you can find, and tell him Lord Branch needs help. Tell him it's an emergency."

"You can't just go down there, lordship," Ayvar grunted.

"Oh, but I can."

Silently, Ayvar nodded. She took the ring, and darted off into the night.

They were both depending on the Saints to let someone be near enough to help.

The scent of burning metal was what guided Tobias down the right path. He ignored the lines of blood made by victims trying to drag themselves away from their abusers. There was no light to guide him; only a smell that rose above the stench of human suffering.

How much time had it taken him to fumble his way down the stairs?

He had to pat the wall and tap around the floor to find the next step.

His attempted rescue wouldn't be grand. Wouldn't be filled with chivalry and a gleaming sword. It would be stumbled and slow.

But a rescue all the same.

Tobias winced as he stepped down the last stair. The room he'd stepped into was much darker than the one he'd left. He shuffled forward, trying to listen to sounds of scuffling.

The toe of his boot hit the hilt of a discarded blade.

A discarded saber.

Dull thudding soon joined the scent of hot metal. The Faola was still fighting. Tobias shuffled forward again, the dull light of a fire catching his eye. Shadows danced around it.

There were no other rooms or halls that Tobias would investigate.

"Let me go!" Bellowed a girls' voice.

"Hold her still, the mark needs to be-" said a man, one of the soldiers. A dull thud ended his sentence.

It was matched with a sharp slap.

"I said hold her down!"

"Let me go!"

Time. The Faola was running out of time. Tobias was running out of time.

Fabric tore. Somebody's screaming was muffled. Ringing echoed out of the firelit room.

Just another step, Tobias. Almost there. Almost stone doorway was within his reach. He could race in, grab the Faola, and get out. Sword or no sword. Nobody needed to get hurt. It was his duty to save. He could do it- he could-

The first thing he focused on was the circle of stones around his feet, not the muffled shriek and sudden change in smells.

The soldiers inside the room rushed out, one of them holding a branding iron.

Tobias didn't bother to hold his hands above his head, he knew what was coming.

A blade met the swinging iron.

Alistair Derforgall grabbed the iron, and threw it at the soldier on his right. Tobias turned his head, looking behind him to see Jolly brandishing his lute, Ayvar, and surprisingly, Renlyn Karise.

"You're not out of the woods yet!" Renlyn barked, dragging Tobias into the firelit room with her.

Jolly's lute crashed through the head of one of the soldiers, sending hm down to the ground.

Tobias would rather watch the fight in the hall rather than look at the vomit covered Faola in the room. Burnt flesh seared his nose. He was almost ready to vomit himself. A small fire burned in the room, hot enough to heat a sword.

"Saints, neither of you were supposed to get into trouble," Renlyn growled. She rushed to the Faola's side, and peeled off the scarf covering her mouth. "Tobias, turn around."

"Let me help, I can-!" He tried, but Renlyn's emotionless voice reared up for the first time since he met her.

"By the Saints Lord Branch, you will look away! You can't talk about what you can't see!"

Mireldis Thay. He was standing beside Mireldis Thay. She was there at his feet, covered in her own vomit and nursing a branded hand.

All it would take was one look and the entire ordeal would be over.

But he couldn't.

He'd been told not to.

It was his fault that Mireldis was lying there. He'd let this moment happen by stopping Roden from executing her on that summer afternoon so many eons ago.

None of this would've happened if he'd forgotten his compassion for one moment.

So he looked away.

Jolly slipped into the room, followed by Alistair. His face fell. "What do we do?"

"Describe the wound," Tobias said, his eyes glued to the wall. "Chances are that she'll need to be taken somewhere cleaner to keep the wound from getting infected."

"They branded her. The flesh has bubbled and she threw up," Renlyn explained.

"Just cut- just cut the hand off," begged Mireldis Thay. Her voice, so strained andpitable, was too familiar. "It's too hard. It hurts."

He'd spoken to her before.

Renlyn coughed, "Come hold her, Jolly, she'll respond to you."

Tobias clamped his hands over his eyes. "The wound needs to be cooled, apply a lavender compress once you've done that."

"We'll have to smuggle her into the castle, nobody would have that this late at night," Jolly said. "Alistair, how do you feel about sneaking around?"

"Call it by another name, something a little more honest," said Alistair. He was standing near Tobias, judging by the volume of his voice. "I will not lie."

Mireldis groaned, earning a tiny hush from Jolly. "We, ah, we're taking a cloak up to Renlyn's rooms to compare certain soaps."

"Exactly," Renlyn said. "We'll compare a hair soap against a skin soap. Jolly, you lead, that way Tobias can look."

"Don't use this as an excuse to leave me behind," Tobias muttered as somebody shuffled past him.

"You can open your eyes," Renlyn set a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Don't ask me to do that again. I could help-"

"And then you would have to turn your patient in for crimes against the crown. It's better this way."

A shadow crossed Renlyn's face as she began walking forward. Her brows knit together, and for a moment, Tobias swore her bottom lip began to tremble.

However, Renlyn forced a frown on her face, "I'll explain my relation to Thay if you want."

"I don't want all of it," Tobias shook his head, bile rising in his throat. "Did you know her before coming to Drylliad?"

"We met on the night I came to serve her Majesty. Not before then."

"Has she told you why she wants Feall dead?"

"Not exactly, but our mutual friend isn't as clean as he claims. Tonight is an example of that. Ayvar was released as a sacrificial lamb, if Alistair hadn't agreed to let me walk the streets tonight under his supervision, you three would be dead. You would've been left as rat food."

Tobias rubbed his temples. He didn't want to think about 'what ifs' any longer.

They were unavoidable.

"I'll help you smuggle Mireldis to safety," Tobias stood up, the firelight that heated Mireldis's branding iron throwing his shadow into the hall. "A friend of yours is a friend of mine, Renlyn, and I won't send a friend to the executioner's block. But she can't stay in Drylliad. Not while she's trying to kill Feall, regardless of his past sins."

"And if he's trying to kill her too?" Renlyn didn't look back as she climbed up the bloodied stairs. "I won't let you keep a secret from your friends Tobias, they're too important to you."

"We need somebody to tell the truth."

"No, it's time to let Mireldis go. I'll have her taken-"

"Don't tell me where, I won't keep it secret."

"You're a good man, Lord Branch."

The moonlight stung his eyes once he and Renlyn finally left the vaults. Jolly nodded at Alistair, and hugged Mireldis even tighter to his chest.

She looked small.

Nothing like the furious bandit willing to throw a blow at the king in order to fulfill her lust for revenge.

He couldn't think of any words to say as he trudged to the castle, Renlyn, Alistair, and Jolly all slightly ahead of him.

Thoughts filled his head, swimming through everything he knew. He'd chosen to let Mireldis Thay go. He was smuggling her into the castle.

All because he couldn't bear the thought of a young woman succumbing to a treatable wound.

Tobias made a choice long ago. He'd dug his own grave, and now he was settling into the coffin that would soon fill it.