"Um…" Quinn said, his gregarious confidence cracking, "you guys can sleep in the hall or the front room, we'll have to handle this."

"Eim fiiiine," the bleary eyed woman on the ground groaned out, "maaaake uuuurself attome."

Callum, finally coming down off the high of his disguise actually working, took a closer look around the room. The room itself would have been large, but with three elves, two of them large, living there it felt cramped.

To his left the largest bedroll was augmented with extra pieces sewed on to the top and one of the sides, lengthening and widening it. Even from a distance Callum could see that it was done with a practiced hand, the augmentations were nearly invisible, lining up with the original so well that they seemed to be a natural part of it. Surrounding the roll was a little oasis of calm in the chaos, free from the detritus of the rest of the room, the area surrounding the bedroll even looked to be swept regularly. The interior room had no windows, but in a small indentation by the left wall stood ordered lines of dozens, maybe even a hundred, tiny wooden figurines. Each stood half-a-hand high and some were lavishly detailed.

The figures' animals had tiny textured hair carefully etched. The elven figurines had impressively emotive eyes and faces. Two of the figures were frozen in the middle of a dance. So natural and casual their bodies that it seemed to be a moment in time frozen in wood rather than a simple carving. Their fingers delicately interlocked, one partner's head was cocked slightly to the side, a rye smile on their face.

Callum could see the figures in the back were far more rudimentary, some barely intelligible hunks of wood, roughly in the shapes of animals. At the front, marshals of this motley regiment, were three taller figures.

Two were obviously Sloan and Quinn, and the third Callum assumed was the woman in the back of the room if you cleaned all the vomit off of her.

All were dressed in ornate robes. Quinn looked proud, Sloan content, the woman was laughing. Oddly, they were all the same height, even though Sloan was mountainous and the woman was slight, each stood as tall as the others.

The back of the room, where the writhing elf was being attended to like a dying woman flanked by her family, had no such order. Bottles, mostly whole, some broken littered the back wall. Some had lay there undisturbed so long that they had layers of dust almost as thick as the living room they had traipsed through earlier.

The wood itself was stained a deep burgundy from the years of spilled wine, It must act like varnish, Callum thought. It was also from this part of the room that the smell emanated. The acrid sharp smell of fresh vomit was the most prominent, but an underlying rot made him wonder if the wood itself had started to ferment after so long bathed in wine.

The space to the right was unremarkable; The with something that Callum refused to think about, but almost spartan in its squaller. Devoid of any identifying information. Other than a single overturned bottle and discarded clothing.

Rayla seized the opportunity and pulled Callum back into the hallway.

"We should leave," she said, her face set, her eyes serious, "They can't help themselves, let alone us."

Rayla was capable of making hard decisions, she had proven that time and time again on their journey, but Callum could see something other than the stalwart stoicism that she usually showed. It wasn't fear, but a pleading sadness, pity and shame.

"Let's just stay the night," Callum said, "At the very least they might no something, and we both need the rest."

Rayla bristled, "I do not need to rest! I'm fine!" she said, a little too strongly to be convincing.

"Ok," Callum said diplomatically, "but they might know something that can help us, please Rayla, just for tonight. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

As uncomfortable as all this made her, Rayla couldn't deny that. "Fine," she said, "First thing." She wondered how the prince could talk her into these things so easily.

She threw her pack down in a corner of the entry room that was out of sight of the windows and was comparatively clean.

Callum was finding a spot for himself when Quinn entered.

"Sorry about that," he said, "'Kora's a hard drinker."

Rayla scoffed, "Ghosted for it too."

Callum sat up "You can get ghosted for drinking too much?" he asked, aghast.

Rayla stared at the ceiling and answered, "Well, you do anything enough times and they'll ghost you for it, that and the public urination."

Callum shifted slightly, "How often do they happen, the ghostings?"

Rayla moved as if she couldn't find a comfortable position, Which was odd to Callum, he had seen her sleep on rough earth like it was the softest bed in the world.

"I've seen a couple dozen," she said. "Quinn was the first."

The elf puffed himself up theatrically, "A distinction I wear with pride."

Rayla shot him a dirty look that Quinn chose to ignore.

"Well!" he said as he clapped his hands together, "I wanted to give you a grander welcome, but I did notice you two getting antsy, so I thought I would put any concerns you may have to rest."

Rayla raised her eyebrow, "And how could you do that?" she asked, "you broke one oath already, what's another?"

Callum saw that flicker of hurt pass through the elf's face again. "I'm so glad you asked!" he said. Quinn dramatically pulled a cream colored ribbon from sleeve, waving it jauntily around the room.

"Where did you get that?!" Rayla demanded, her hand unconsciously clasping her wrist where her binding had almost taken her hand.

"Come now little Ray," Quinn said, "Being invisible has its advantages."

He began winding the binding around his left arm up near the bicep with a practiced hand. When the cord was coiled to his liking he turned and addressed Rayla and Callum solemnly.

"Neither I nor Sloan or Ankora will harm you," he said, the cord tightening around his arm, "nor will we divulge any information about you to anyone until such a time as the dragon prince is returned, this I swear."

Quinn sighed and gave the band a small tug, being this early in the binding, it had a small amount of give, but quickly snapped back to his bicep.

Rayla was stunned. Maybe it was how recently a similar binding had almost taken he own hand, or it could have been how blasé Quinn was about what was supposed to be a solemn, almost holy procedure. This was not how these things were supposed to be done. Only those on the most important missions took on this burden. The fact that Quinn was left in one piece after his own desertion was a testament to that.

"I'll get the others to do the same," he said, "We really do want to help you kids."

He gave them a wistful smile.

"But why?" Rayla said, collecting herself, "Why would you risk so much to help us? You barely know me."

Quinn sighed and started out the front door, "I have my reasons, I'll tell you all when Kora sobers up, I think everyone should hear it."

"Where are you going?" Rayla said, rising to her feet.

"Going to draw some water," Quinn replied, "We should set off early, and a moderately hungover Kora is less grumpy than a critically hungover one."

Rayla started to follow him out the door. "Let me help," she said, scarcely believing the words that were coming out of her mouth.

Quinn let out a booming laugh that seemed almost to shake the floorboards, Callum heard a faint groan of discomfort coming from the room behind him. "I worried you wouldn't come around Little Ray, I thought we'd just about scared you off."

"You almost did," she said, a soft smile forming on her face, "Callum, could you check on the other two while we're gone?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure… what should I do?" he asked, taken aback by Rayla's change in demeanor.

"Just check on them," Rayla said, "see what they need."

Callum hesitated, "But I thought you said that Sloan was," he hesitated as he saw Quinn's eyebrow raise, "...dangerous."

Rayla looked mortified, but Quinn shook his head and smiled, "I'm betting that the big guy wont give you any trouble," he said, patting his new binding, "and thank you kid, never knew a prince who was willing to get his hands dirty."

Callum brightened up and the compliment, then realized how unpleasant the next few minutes of his life was likely to be. "Oh! You're… welcome."

—-

Outside Rayla and Quinn walked in silence for the first minute. The nearest well was located almost a quarter mile outside of the slum that held their ramshackle hideout.

Rather than being awkward, Rayla was struck by how comfortable the silence was. The binding caught her eye.

"You were pretty quick to bind yourself," she said, "you do that often?"

Quinn smiled, "Actually, yes." he said.

Rayla stopped, "No way, why would you?"

Quinn smiled, "We get bored here," he said, "Kora only has 3 fingers on her left hand from the time she bet us that she could drink seven bottles of wine in a day, to her credit she downed six and a half."

Rayla laughed despite herself, "No! She really lost a finger over that?"

Quinn smiled, "We were all pulling for her," he said, "But enough about me, tell me, how did you end up chaperoning royalty?"

Rayla smiled. "It's his fault really," she said, "he talked me into it."

—-

Callum and Sloan avoided eye contact in an awkward silence. Callum held Ankora's hair, Sloan held the bucket. The stillness in the room broken only by Ankora's occasional retching.

Sloan was fidgety, his eyes kept darting around the room, from Ankora, to the little figurines, to the floor, but never to Callum.

The young prince was wary of the big elf. His first impressions had been good, but he saw the way that Rayla recoiled from him. In his few weeks with the assassin, Callum had seldom seen her scared of anything but water, but the sight of Sloan had scared her.

Callum weighed these the factors in his head, Quinn had bound himself to keep them safe, but if this elf was as dangerous as Rayla seemed to think he was, then Quinn's binding wouldnt keep him safe.

Sloan was carefully wiping the vomit from Ankora's face with one rag, and dabbing at her sweat with another. Something about this stirred a memory in the back of Callum's mind, it took him a second to place it, but then it came to him.

The way Sloan was treating Ankora was exactly the way the midwives had treated his mother when Ezran was born.

Callum had insisted on staying at Sarai's side. Soren had barbed him weeks earlier, telling Callum that it was all too common for women to die in childbirth and it had stuck with him. When his mother's water had broke and she was taken away by the midwives he was inconsolable, too young to truly understand what was happening. Eventually he was allowed at her side.

For all the panic and the screaming in the room, Callum was taken by the poise of the people who had helped his mother. They went about their jobs without panic or fear, just a stoic kindness. Callum saw this same stalwart sweetness in Sloan.

Callum finally broke the silence, "So, those figures, did you make them?"

Sloan's eyes shot up to meet his, "Yes." he said, looking vulnerable.

"They're very good," Callum said, gently.

"I'm so glad you like them!" Sloan said, a big goofy grin spreading across his face, "I wanted to stop after the first few," he said nodding his head towards the back line of figures, "But Ankora wouldn't let me stop, she said 'you can't give up on it now, they're looking better,' did you see the one I made of her? The detail on the robes took me days but I think it's worth it. She was so happy when I showed her…"

The elf continued to ramble about the minutiae of wood carving. He explained how important it was to find the right piece of wood, to keep your tools sharp, to maintain your work after it was finished.

Callum was struck by the odd juxtaposition of the seminar on sculpture with the drunkest person he'd ever seen.

Eventually he ground to a halt, "I'm sorry," he said, his milky skin turning slightly red, "I get excited about my work," he said.

"No no no!," Callum said, "I love hearing about it! I draw."

Sloan's ears perked up, Callum was still fascinated by the part that ears played in conveying emotion in elves.

"Could I see?" Sloan asked.

Before Callum could respond Ankora dry heaved into the bucket.

"Oh," Sloan said, "I'll take a look tomorrow, we should keep looking after her."

Tomorrow, Callum said. At this Sloan smiled and nodded before turning back to Ankora.

Just then Quinn and Rayla reentered the room, "Well you two seem to be getting along well, Good!" Quinn said, "I'll take it from here."

He knelt down next to Callum, who awkwardly handed him Ankora's hair.

"Hope she hasnt been too much trouble," he said, "We'll discuss what's next in the morning. Hold a house meeting and everything. Until then, you kids get some sleep, it'll be a long day tomorrow."

Rayla and Callum walked back to the main room. Callum opened a sleeping roll and set it up parallel to the wall, Rayla just dropped her pack and used it as a pillow.

"I like them," Callum said.

Rayla snorted, "fine, we'll see what they have to say. But no promises."