This was ridiculous, and probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Horace felt like a fool and the biggest jerk in the world. He should really return to the Great Tree, to the Dark Kingdom, and start trying to make things right with Varian.

Varian...That poor kid didn't deserve any of this. They'd been constant companions for nearly ten years. They knew each other better than anybody else. Their strengths complimented each other, and also balanced their weaknesses. They really were Team Awesome, and Horace might have just thrown that all away in a single moment of selfishness.

A deep part of him wanted to go home and pretend that none of this had ever happened. This homesickness and regret was at its worst in the middle of the night, when the moon was shining and the stars were out.

It was odd. Horace had never thought about just how beautiful the night sky of the Dark Kingdom was. Sure, he'd noticed its beauty, but in a distant, casual way. He'd taken it for granted. The night sky in the rest of the world was pretty, but nowhere near as magical as it was in the Dark Kingdom.

The stars were bright, but they didn't have the same colorful glow to them as they did in the Dark Kingdom. The biggest difference was the moon. It looked the same, but it felt completely different. This moon felt lifeless, dead. It was no longer a powerful, guarding force, it was just a silent observer in the night. It was more than a little unnerving.

Horace missed home, but then the sun would rise, lighting the world in its warmth, and he would remember why he had done this in the first place.

The world was so large and inviting. There was so much to see, and so much to do, and Horace wanted to do a little bit of everything. When he passed a large farming town he stopped for the day and did some work in the fields. It was exhausting work, not at all what Horace was used to, but even though he was inexperienced he was young, strong, and determined, so the farmer was more than pleased with his work. He paid Horace for his day's work, offered to let him stay for the night, and the prince moved on the next day.

Since he was already travelling he frequently brought trading goods from one town to another. Once, about a month into his travelling, Horace passed by a Roma caravan. He stopped bandits from ambushing the travellers. The Roma hadn't exactly trusted him, but they appreciated his help. When they learned that he was a bit of a nomad himself, far from his home and people, not truly fitting in with other people, they offered to allow him to travel with them for a time.

Horace had travelled with the Roma for a month, and it had been interesting. He helped them with bandits and thieves, and they in turn gave him the company that he'd been missing so much. They worked well together, but Horace never felt part of the group. To them he was still just a stranger, an outsider, and he could respect that. They left on good terms when the Roma were planning on heading south and Horace wanted to continue going west, following the path of the sun.

Every single day was different from the last, but everything started to blend together anyways. Different town, different people, different scenery, but the same basic feeling. Horace always felt like he was looking for something. He didn't know what it was, he just knew that whatever it was he hadn't found it yet.

Horace felt like he couldn't return to the Dark Kingdom until he found whatever he was looking for. He'd left behind everything he knew. If he went home without finding whatever he was looking for, then he would return empty-handed. It would be like all of this, all the pain and worry he'd brought to his father and Varian, would be for absolutely nothing. He couldn't do that to them.

Horace travelled on, enjoying the different cultures and ignoring any guilt or homesickness that tried to sneak up on him.

Horace had been travelling for about seven months when he woke up in his improvised campsite only to find that his satchel was missing. Horace quickly searched through the rest of his belongings, looking to see if he was missing anything else. After travelling with limited belongings for so long Horace was very familiar with all of his belongings. After checking and double checking Horace found that nothing else was missing. Even his coin purse was still there, complete with every single coin. The only thing missing was his satchel.

"Sneaky little thief." Horace muttered to himself. He was a really light sleeper, so for somebody to sneak up on him, take his satchel, and leave without waking him was impressive. The fact that they only took the satchel and nothing else was also a bit impressive. If Horace didn't keep a close eye on his satchel at all times, as it was really important to him, he might not have noticed it was missing, or he might have assumed that he had lost it in town the day before.

This thief had made a calculated decision to ignore the obvious things that most thieves went for first. Their strategy had been to remain unnoticed. If anything else of his had been taken Horace might let it go. If a thief was good enough to get past him and kind enough to leave him the things he needed, Horace thought they deserved to keep their spoils. However, that satchel was one of the few belongings that Horace had with him that he actually had sentimental value for, and he wasn't going to let it go without a fight.

Horace quickly packed up his things and hopped onto Nelovko's back. "Come on, buddy, we've got a thief to find." He pet the saiga's head. "See if you can sniff out my satchel." It almost certainly smelled like him, and Horace knew that his companion was more than capable of following the scent.

Shortly after Horace had gotten Nelovko he and Varian had conducted an experiment to see just how good the saiga's sense of smell was. The answer was that it was really good. Horace had been able to hide in the most obscure part of the castle, and Nelovko would be able to sniff him out and find him rather quickly.

Sure enough Nelovko immediately started trotting off. Horace stared determinedly ahead. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours, so the thief couldn't be too far away. Hopefully Nelovko would be able to catch up with them fairly quickly.

It was about three hours later when Nelovko walked up to a seemingly abandoned building. Horace dismounted and gave Nelovko an appreciative pet. "Good job, bud. Get some rest. I'll take it from here. Horace pulled a dagger out of a saddlebag, frowning when he saw that it was one of Varian's.

The boy didn't like using daggers, but he carried them with him just in case they ran into trouble. Holding Varian's blade felt wrong, both because he didn't have a right to have the kid's weapon when he'd left him behind, and also because the size and weight was different from the black rock and bone blade that Horace was used to. Unfortunately, his black rock dagger was in his satchel. Just another reason to get his things back.

Horace twisted the dagger in his hands before he slowly let himself into the building. He was cautious, slow. The thief had caught him off guard, and Horace wanted to repay the favor.

The interior of the building looked just as run-down as the outside, but it became clear that it wasn't as abandoned as it first appeared. There wasn't dust on the floor, and Horace saw some food sitting in the corner that definitely would have gone bad by now if the building had really been abandoned as long as it looked like it had.

Horace approached the pile of food, only to freeze in his tracks. He sensed someone behind him. Raising his dagger, Horace whipped around to find himself face to face with a large, dark-skinned man. His smile looked nice enough, but the black rock dagger in his hands and mistrust in his eyes made it clear that this man was a threat.

"Who are you, pretty boy, and what are you doing here?" The thief asked. His tone reminded Horace of Hector, somehow being casual and playful as well as cold and angry all at once.

Horace frowned slightly and lowered his own dagger in a show of good-faith. He didn't want to fight right now, he just wanted his stuff back. He would just use fighting as a last resort. "I'm just looking for a few things I lost. Maybe you've seen them." Horace gave the black rock dagger a pointed look. The thief blinked and followed his gaze. He looked at the dagger for a moment before he grinned and lowered it.

"Oh, you're the rich boy." The thief chuckled. All tension in his voice seemed to vanish, though Horace wasn't fool enough to think that meant he wasn't a threat.

"I'm not-" Horace began to deny that he was rich. He was a prince, but he really didn't carry a lot of money with him. As far as this man should know, Horace was just an ordinary traveller.

"Who do you think you're fooling?" The thief raised an eyebrow at Horace. "Your clothes are too soft and bright for you to be a normal traveller. You ride around on a weird deer thing-"

"Saiga," Horace clarified.

"Whatever it is, it's not exactly something you see someone riding around on every day." The thief said. He twirled the black rock dagger in his hands. "Then there's this dagger. It's custom made, and normal people don't have weapons this nice."

"How do you know I didn't steal it?" Horace crossed his arms.

"Your hair," The thief flicked his finger at Horace's long hair, which he kept tied back in a ponytail. "It's too clean, too soft. You put effort into that hair." Horace couldn't help but feel proud. He had, indeed, put a lot of time and effort into taking care of his hair. "Most people have more to worry about than taking care of their hair." The thief brushed a hand over his bald head.

Horace grimaced. It felt like something he should have noticed before. It was just careless.

"Alright, alright, you've got me." Horace lowered the dagger in his hands even more. He slowly reached for his coin purse. "Look, why don't I make you a deal? You look like you need this money more than I do, and I'm pretty sure that I want my satchel and dagger more than you, so why don't we make a trade?"

The other man eyed him carefully. He was seriously considering the offer. "If the satchel and dagger are so important to you, what are you willing to give to me in exchange for them?"

Horace didn't have a lot of money, but he hoped that it was enough. He tossed the coin purse to the ground, letting some of the coins fall out.

"It's not a lot, but it's all I have on me right now." Horace said. The thief stared at the coins in shock for a moment before he gave Horace a look of disbelief.

"You really are a rich boy if you don't think this is a lot." The thief said. He sounded more amused than irritated. "You don't just look like a walking target, but you act like one too if you always throw your money around like this."

"I usually don't." Horace said. "But I want that satchel more than I want those coins." Horace would always be able to make some more money. The satchel was one of a kind. He'd helped Hector make it after he and Varian had killed that tiger eight years ago. Horace had sewed the fur onto the flap of the satchel himself.

Horace still had the cape that just went over one shoulder to serve as a reminder of what he had done and why. He didn't truly need the satchel too, but he wanted it. The satchel connected him and Varian just as much as the cape did, and Horace didn't want to let go of that. Besides, Horace was used to having two items that reminded him of the burden and guilt he would carry for the rest of his life for taking the life of that tiger. If he lost the satchel then it would be like that burden was eased, and Horace wouldn't stand for that. It wouldn't be fair.

The thief gave Horace a curious look. "What's so important about the bag? Yeah, the tiger fur is nice and exotic, and would probably bring in a decent amount of money, but I'm guessing your intention isn't to sell it."

"Of course not." Horace said. He thought about it for just a moment before explaining the Dark Kingdom's tradition to the man. Maybe he'd be able to pull on the thief's heartstrings. "Back home my people have a tradition to honor the memory of the first animal we killed by wearing their fur." Horace gave a small pull to his cape.

The thief fiddled with the black rock dagger, though it didn't seem to be a move of intimidation. He just seemed a little bored and very curious. "You killed a tiger? I guess you're not just some inexperienced rich boy."

"Well, I did have help." Horace admitted. "A...a kid. We share this burden. At least, we're supposed to." Horace felt a twist in his stomach. He and Varian did everything together. They always helped each other, but Horace had left him. He felt that this particular journey was one he needed to make alone, and it didn't feel fair. Horace had learned how to share his burdens with Varian, but when it came to sharing what should have been a positive experience it suddenly seemed like it was too much.

The thief finally lowered his dagger. He gave Horace a sympathetic look. "Did something happen to the kid?"

Horace shook his head. "The worst that's ever happened to him is me." Horace had thought that he'd gotten over the guilt of Varian having been assigned to keep an eye on him. For the first time in more than five years Horace wondered if Varian's life would be just a little safer if they weren't stuck with each other.

Varian wouldn't have been initiated into the Brotherhood so early. He would have had the proper time to train and learn just what it meant to be a member of the Brotherhood. He would have joined at fourteen instead of five. He would have had the chance to actually have a real childhood, or, at least, as close to one as people in the Dark Kingdom got.

Who knows? Maybe Varian wouldn't have joined the Brotherhood at all. Without Horace to distract him the kid might have leaned even more into his alchemy. He might have decided to take after his mother instead of following in his fathers footsteps.

It hurt a little to think about. Varian hadn't really had a say in how his life would go, all because of Horace.

The thief's gaze softened, though he seemed to be trying really badly to hold onto his disinterest. Finally he gave up and sighed. The thief took the dagger and walked right past Horace to a corner of the room. He pulled out a floorboard and pulled out Horace's satchel. He returned the blade to the satchel, which he held out to Horace. The prince took it back before the thief could change his mind.

"I have way too much of a soft spot for kids." The thief said, like he was scolding himself. He bent down and picked up the coin purse. He began to count the coins while Horace looked through his satchel, just to make sure all his things were in there. Everything looked in order.

"Happy doing business with you," Horace said, and he was actually being sincere about it. Not that Horace was glad he'd been stolen from, but if he was going to meet any thief at least he was a thief who could be reasoned with and talked down.

Horace tied the satchel to his belt. "My name's Horace." He introduced himself. He held a hand out to the thief, who chuckled slightly and returned the grip.

"Lance," The man said with a smile. "You'd better not tell anybody that I was able to be bought off."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." Horace said. "Maybe in return you can give me some advice about how to not stand out as such a rich boy."

"The biggest things are the hair and the fur." Lance said. "You look like you could get away with the scruffy look, so I suggest you really lean into that. Cut your hair a bit unevenly and you'll be golden."

Horace couldn't help but grimace. He knew he was just a bit too vain about his hair, but he couldn't help it. He was proud of his look. It would take him some time to work up the nerve to cut it, and even more time to get used to the new look. "I'll think about it."

"As for the fur, maybe just consider keeping it out of sight." Lance said. "I know there's some sentimental value to it, so you won't really want to get rid of it, but trust me, the tiger fur is going to attract unwanted attention."

"Noted," Horace said. Considering Lance had gone to the effort of stealing the satchel, Horace figured he knew what he was talking about. "I'd better head out. I'm burning daylight."

"Where are you headed?" Lance asked.

"I'm not quite sure," Horace admitted. "I'm just going west."

For some reason Lance flinched ever so slightly. "If you're just wandering around with no specific destination in mind, maybe you should consider avoiding Corona."

This piqued Horace's interest. He was used to being told where to not go, and his gut reaction was to go straight there. "What's in Corona?"

"A harsh justice system." Lance said. "If you're caught stealing an apple from a local vendor you'll be given a life sentence, and that's if you're lucky."

Horace was taken aback. He understood the concept of punishing crime, but that sounded a little harsh. Maybe Lance was just exaggerating, though considering he was a thief himself he would probably be intimately familiar with the justice system.

"Well, I'm not a criminal." Horace said. Corona may not be a safe place for criminals, but he didn't see how that would affect him.

"Sure, but I used to live in Corona. And they don't really trust people who are a little different. As far as they're concerned, if you stand out then you've gotta be up to something." Lance said.

Horace had been told that the whole world was like that, and to a certain extent he'd seen it happen for himself. He had every reason to tread carefully, but that didn't mean he had to duck his head and run the other way. Horace wanted to see what the world had to offer, and that included the good and the bad.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Horace said. Lance raised an eyebrow at him. He probably knew that Horace was now going to head straight to Corona. The man shrugged.

"Hey, on your own head be." Lance said. He tied up the purse coin and slipped it in his pocket. "Good luck, pretty boy."

"And to you." Horace said. He gave Lance a small bow and left the rundown building. He found Nelovko waiting patiently for him. Horace grinned and pet the saiga's snout. "Our mission was a success. I've got my stuff back." Deciding to take Lance's advice, Horace took his satchel and cape and carefully put them in one of the saddlebags. He'd be keeping a close eye on them.

Horace took Varian's dagger and eyed it carefully. He was already beginning to regret it, but he knew what he had to do. If Lance was right and his hair just attracted too much attention then it would be foolish to keep his long hair just because of vain pride.

Horace squeezed his eyes shut tight and, before he could change his mind, he brought the dagger just above his hair tie and he started cutting through his hair. It was rough, and Horace's shaking hands didn't make it any better. It took a minute, but Horace was eventually able to cut through his hair. He flinched when he saw his tied off hair fall to the ground in a bunch. He felt a bit naked.

Horace sheathed the dagger and carefully ran his hands through his shorter hair. It felt wrong, and probably looked far too messy. Horace wanted to fix it up, but he didn't have access to a mirror at the moment and he really couldn't tidy up his hair without one. He would have to wait until he reached the next down.

Horace let out a shuddered breath and tried to tell himself to stop being so dramatic. It was just hair. He could imagine Varian's amusement if the boy saw him breaking down over a few lost inches of hair, but that just made Horace feel worse.

He shook his head and tried to push the thought of Varian and his haircut out of his head. If he let himself become distressed it would take him forever to begin travelling today. He couldn't keep looking behind him, or he'd never be able to move on.

Horace adjusted Nelovko's saddle and reins before climbing on. "Well, bud, it looks like we're headed to Corona."