No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!" | Ritual Sacrifice

Will awoke to his shoulder being shaken and Horace's concerned blue eyes.

"Will! Come on, say something."

"S'op shak'n me," the Ranger slurred, weakly flailing a hand at his friend. Horace breathed a sigh of relief and retreated slightly. The Ranger didn't appear to be in any active danger, and Horace knew him well enough to know that Will needed space as he oriented and grounded himself.

Will coughed, working his jaw on what Horace knew was a dry, fuzzy-feeling mouth. "You all right?" The knight asked in concern.

The Ranger smacked his mouth again before replying, his voice clearer then it had been earlier. "'m fine. What happened?"

"We were drugged," Horace said, his face darkening. "They must have slipped something into our breakfast."

"...The coffee," Will said quietly a moment later, eyes closing against a wave of dizziness. "Pot spilled right after we were poured, remember? Didn't think anything of it at the time."

"They knew who we were," the warrior realized as he marveled at Will's ability to deduce the situation, even in his drug-hazed state. "How? What do they want with us?"

Will gave his friend a look of long-suffering. "We weren't exactly traveling incognito. You've got a rather distinguished knight's looking shield, and Ranger cloaks are rather distinctive in the right settings. As for what they want with us..." he trailed off, face creasing with pain and he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose - a telltale sign of a headache.

Horace frowned at his friend's obvious discomfort. Horace himself had woken up feeling fuzzy, but it had worn off somewhat quickly, and even his initial discomfort hadn't been as bad as Will's. Will had also taken considerably longer to wake up... small and slight as he was, Will was being affected worse by whatever they had been drugged with, Horace thought with dawning alarm.

Horace's brewing alarm only increased as the room's door opened with a creak, revealing a young woman flanked by three guards. Horace eyed her warily, before risking a glance at Will. The Ranger's face was tight, his brown eyes smoldering as they took in the newest inclusion to the space.

The woman clapped her hands, shiny brown curls bouncing over her shoulders as she looked between the two of them. "Oh, good, you're both awake!" she said cheerfully before nodding at Will. "I was worried you would still be asleep! You like coffee just a little more than your friend, and petite as you are... Well, here you are, anyway." She smiled, seemingly unaffected by Will's cold glare.

"Who are you?" Horace snapped roughly.

"My name is Princess Ila of Gallica."

The knight frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

The woman - Ila - laughed pleasantly and shrugged. "I suppose not. As far as Gallic royalty goes, I'm rather... low-tier? A fact that is most inconvenient at times, I assure you."

"Get to the point," Will growled. "I'm more curious about why you took us than about your social status."

Ila's lips drew into a pout. "In such a hurry," she said petulantly, before heaving out a sigh. "Actually, the reason I... borrowed you and my social status are fairly connected. As I said, I'm quite low-tier. Now, if I had valuable information on Araluen - their land, keeps, forces, the like - suddenly my standing increases."

"So your idea is to interrogate us," Will stated flatly, and Ila clapped her hands merrily again.

"That's the plan!" She said brightly, before giving a one shouldered shrug. "Well, just you, truly. Knights have prestige, certainly, but I get the feeling that a Ranger will have more valuable insights. You're practically Araluen's information hounds." Ila turned to give Horace a smile. "Not to say you're not valuable, love. Information aside, you're my favorite one to look at."

Fists tightening, Horace said nothing, instead risking a glance at Will. The Ranger's face was still pinched with pain, dim eyes blinking rapidly every now and again as if trying to clear blurriness. The knight again felt a pang of alarm at Will's strongly adverse response to the drug, and felt his heart sink as he imagined his friend, in pain and hazy, holding up against an interrogation.

"Well, no sense in waiting - grab him, please," Ila instructed her guards, who immediately stepped into action. "We have information to get... and believe me, there's a lot I'm wanting to know." Her eyes had a menacing glint to them, a look that betrayed the sweetness of her tone.

"Wait!" Horace said abruptly as the guards reached for Will. "Take me instead."

Silence reigned for several seconds, then Ila gave Horace a pitying look. "I told you already. As much as I'll miss those cheekbones, I'm currently more interested in information than I am in eye candy."

"No. I mean... I have information. I'm the Oakleaf Knight." Ila's eyes widened in interest, and Horace pressed on. "I'm based out of Castle Araluen. The Rangers might be the "information hounds", but I'm based where it all happens." Not that Horace intended on sharing the know of Araluen, but if he was able to divert what was sure to be a fierce interrogation away from Will... Well, Horace might not be the best bluffer, but he could certainly try.

"Horace..." Will said warningly, but the knight ignored him, keeping his gaze fixed on the Gallican princess as he waited for her response.

Ila's lips curled into another smile as she stepped towards him. "Well," she answered silkily. "This changes things." With a nod to the guards, they shifted course from Will, instead roughly taking Horace's arms, making the knight grimace.

Ila casually traced a finger over the thin white scar on Horace's cheek, the one left by an Arridan blade, before reluctantly breaking her admiring gaze. "Be careful with him, will you?" She instructed the guards, even as she nodded for them to take him. "I'd prefer not to mar this handsome face."

With that, she exited, the guards following closely behind with Horace in tow. Horace desperately twisted in their grasp, determined to make eye contact with Will one more time - a feeble way to try to convey some reassurance.

The Ranger's wide brown eyes were uncharacteristically fearful. The door slammed close... and Horace took a breath.

At least it wasn't Will.