Loren and Kiera found him in the east sector of Freeport, down one of the dark alleys Loren's mother had warned him about when he was young. He was dirty, and seemed smaller than he had ever been, and he smelled like burnt hair and old milk. Kiera saw him first and rushed to kneel at his side, but he turned away from her. "Rheuben," she said, but he pushed her away, leaving a swath of grime across her upper arm. He raked fingers through his hair, and grunted something dismissive.
Loren, hearing the exchange, turned the corner to meet his old friend. "Rheuben," he echoed, but his voice was not of comfort, but chastisement. "What the hell are you doing here?" When he did not answer, Loren stepped forward, looming over him. "Stand up," he barked, "and tell me why you deserted. You'd better have a damn good reason." He glared down at the other man, hoping his approach might work better than Kiera's.
"Gods damn it, Loren," said Rheuben, keeping his back to his friends, and Loren realized that trying to address the soldier in Rheuben was a futile effort. That part of him was gone, at least for now. "I deserted because I was afraid! Don't try to bring me back. Even Lord Marr had abandoned me," he said, turning to Loren, and holding out his hands, though he did not meet Loren's eyes. "He withdrew his gift. I'm forsworn, Loren; I've fallen. He's abandoned me," he repeated, dropping his hands.
Kiera pulled back from him, realizing that the knight and former knight were debating a matter in which she had no experience.
Loren took her place at Rheuben's side. "The question becomes, then, have you abandoned him?" He fought to find Rheuben's gaze, and then held it. Lord Marr could be a forgiving god, when contrition was true.
"I don't want to, but there's no hope," Rheuben said, dropping his eyes.
"If you will not abandon him, then there is always hope for salvation," said Loren, but Rheuben merely shook his head and stared at the ground.