(or maven's new friend is better than any before him.)

Maven did not see Thomas again for a little while.

When he had gotten back to the building where he and Cal were staying (not tents or small and cramped buildings; it wasn't anything massive, but certainly more than the others got), he'd lounged around for a while. His brother had returned and asked him where the scarf came from. Maven realized with a start that he hadn't taken the scarf off and put it away like he'd told himself to do. But he found that he just didn't really want to take off Thomas's scarf. He also knew that this attachment would come off strange to Cal if it came off so strange to himself, so effortlessly he lied, "I brought it from home. I don't need it… it's just to remind me."

As expected, this melted any and all of Cal's suspicion. Maven knew Cal was fond of doing two things: One, turning a blind eye to whatever antics Maven was up to, and two, thinking Maven was weak and sentimental. While those things irritated him to no end, it was incredibly helpful most of the time whenever he needed to get away with something. Like being unnaturally attached to a scarf some random stranger gave me, Maven thought, frowning.

No, not some random stranger. A… friend.

Also, Cal would most likely disapprove of him making friends with Reds. That was reason enough to not really tell him why he was so attached to the scarf.

Two days passed. Maven was rather busy following Cal around and doing nothing else. His brother told him of important things that were happening in the war; casualties, strategies, et cetera. Maven had to pay some attention because Cal knew he was quite good at strategizing when he wanted to be, so he was often poked and prodded at to help. He reluctantly did so, but the whole time he felt like something was just not right.

On the third day of his being at the front, Cal wasn't busy, so Maven wasn't busy either.

They were lounging alone in that little building of theirs. "Want to play chess?" Cal asked casually. Maven tilted his head, pretending to consider. "Or train?" Cal added.

"No thank you," Maven replied. His brother nodded. Sometimes, on days like these, Cal wasn't so pushy. He got stressed very easily and liked to relax and enjoy the time off that he got. He was always working on one thing or another, be it his machines or his strategies or his princely duties and actively enjoyed the time he had free. Maven often felt like the opposite, for he was never quite at home whether he was working or not. He let the silence linger before he got up.

Cal turned to glance at him. "What are you doing?"

"I think I'm just going to go out. We never see the forest in this season when we're in Archeon, right?" said Maven. Cal opened his mouth to respond before closing it. Right, Cal had been up to the front before, and Cal had been out of the castle before. He had probably seen the forest in winter enough for a lifetime. But Maven hadn't, so that was his excuse, and he left the building without another word.

As soon as he stepped out into the cold, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Going back inside would seem foolish, certainly. But he wasn't sure what he'd do out here, either. Maybe go see Thomas, but he had only seen Thomas once and didn't know where he'd be. Running into him again at the house probably wouldn't happen and would just be dumb luck. But he had no idea where else Thomas would be. Not with the soldiers, because he was a worker -

Ah, there it was. Thomas is a worker. So then, the only reasonable thought would be a workshop, right? But where on Earth would he find a workshop?

Maven carefully slid back into the building. He called, "Hey, Cal, do you work on the machines down here?"

"No," Cal responded, sounding quite sad about it.

"…Is there a workshop down here? You can come down with me."

Cal let out a sigh, kicking back on the couch that he was lounging on. "There's one right on the shore of Lake Tarion." Yes, Lake Tarion. Most of the tents and buildings were around the shore of that. It was the furthest east of those massive lakes, whatever they were called. Maven thanked his brother before turning and leaving. He made his way down to the lake, snow crunching under his boots. Today the sky was overcast, and when he finally reached the lake, he was surprised to see that some of it had been practically frozen over. He frowned, feeling guilt prick at him. Was it really that cold? He hadn't noticed, he was a burner of course, but maybe he should give the scarf back if it was really so-

Stop it, he barked at himself. Stop feeling sorry for Reds!

If you aren't supposed to be feeling sorry for Reds, a taunting voice in his head whispered, then why are you going back to Thomas?

Maven swallowed, ignoring the burning in his throat, and turned to the tent on the shore. A tent. Not even an actual building for Thomas and whatever other workers were down here, suffering and working in the cold and bleak winter, and when did he start noticing these things? Forcefully, Maven shook his head as if to clear it and then hurried to the tent before he got any more bad ideas. It was a fairly large tent, actually. He slipped inside without much hassle.

There were surprisingly few Reds in the massive tent. It wasn't much warmer in here, though maybe Maven didn't have much of a sense of temperature, but most of them were sweating at their metal desks as they worked over their supplies. Maven could count five. Being generous, there must have been some of them helping at that new building. Two were working together, and the other three were working separately. The team was poring over some guns which had probably malfunctioned in some way or another. Thomas was furthest in the back. None of them looked up when he entered.

Maven felt like he belonged, strangely enough.

He walked to the back of the tent. For a second, he stood in front of the table, not quite sure what to do. Thomas's brow was furrowed, sweat shining on his forehead. He was laying guns out on the table, the sweat from the heavy lifting. Maven reluctantly broke the silence with, "Hello."

Thomas started. Maven's voice was rather quiet when he wanted it to be, so he didn't think many other people heard. "Oh, it's you," Thomas said, rather surprised when he looked up. "Didn't think I'd be seein' you again so soon, heh." A pause. "What're you here for?"

Maven shrugged. Thomas wordlessly shoved a stool over from his side of the table. Maven sat down. "I've got time to spare," the prince said, weaving a story as he went. "They found an infection in my leg - real nasty. And they said I should take it easy for a little bit."

"Did they," replied the Red. He looked pretty shocked. "Man, that's pretty bad. 'N you came all the way down here?"

"My brother," Maven said. "He likes… mechanics." With a start, Maven realized that was one of the first true things he had told Thomas besides his name. Thomas put down one of the guns, turning to face him in what was obviously interest. "He's older than me, and he went to the front before me, so I…" He tilted his head. He felt almost guilty for leaving out details, even though he knew he owed Thomas nothing. "Just reminds me of him, I guess," he said, gesturing around.

Thomas gave a nod. "I have a sister, see," he said. Maven glanced at him in surprise. "Younger than me, but smart as a whip. But she's stuck down in the slums all the time." He lowered his gaze to the table, pain flickering in his brown eyes. "Even if she got a reprieve and came up here, she'd still have to do all o'…" He gestured to the guns on the table that he had been laying out before, but had stopped at the mention of his sister. "This."

"That's horrible." Maven's voice cracked. He was surprised at his own sincerity, but he was sincere. He had never looked twice at the slums before, never thought about the people working there. "I hope she'll be able to leave someday," he murmured. "What's her name?"

Thomas replied, "Callie."

Maven blinked. He tried to lighten the mood by saying, "How strange. My brother's name is Cal."

Thomas peered up at him. He smiled, clearly appreciating the tone change, and answered, "Isn't that funny? It's like we're made to be friends, ha-ha." Maven thought for a minute that it was sarcastic, but Thomas was from the slums… maybe he was just that innocent. And maybe he really did like Maven that much. So Maven laughed, too.

"I don't like mechanics that much. Not as much as my brother, anyway," he said. "And you must be tired of it with all of the work you do, right?"

Thomas nodded. "I'm good at it, but I don't like it. Y'know the feeling?"

Maven shrugged. "I'm not good at much of anything," he admitted.

"Oh, don't be like that," insisted Thomas. He grinned slightly. "A lot of people have told me that I'm annoying, and you're still here, so you've gotta be very patient."

The prince almost doubled over, trying to keep in his laughter. But a few laughs still escaped from him. "I don't think - you're annoying," he choked out between his chuckles.

"Then you see the best in people," suggested Thomas before bursting into laughter himself. The others in the tent continued working - clearly used to the noise - but Maven and Thomas practically howled. It wasn't even that funny, really. But the prince usually didn't have too many friends to laugh with, and took pleasure in the fact that he could for once.

"Awh, man," Maven gasped, wiping the tears from his eyes. He hadn't laughed that hard since… since he'd been really young. Cal would always love to make him laugh. Nowadays Cal didn't have time for him anymore. But Thomas - Thomas was his friend, Thomas had time for him. So Maven decided that he didn't really need Cal, anyway. He had a real friend now. And it didn't matter whether he was red or silver or whatever. Because he was enough.

And he made Maven feel like he was enough, too.

And so together, the two friends chatted the night away. They talked about everything and anything; favorite activities, family members, talents, favorite foods, you name it. Thomas revealed that he was seventeen - too young to be conscripted, but thrown up here because he was good with machines. He and his family were often separated because of the work that they had to do, but Thomas told him it made the times they were together all the more valuable. Maven secretly envied Thomas, wishing he had a tight family like that. In return, Maven confessed a few things about his family. He twisted a few details of course, but the bare bones were the same; Cal was a bright, talented boy, their father only had eyes for Cal, and his mother needed to settle down so she much preferred he, Maven. He tried not to sound bitter, but it didn't really work.

"Of course," Maven said, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck above the scarf, "I'm not trying to say it's worse than your situation, but–"

"Nah, I didn't take it that way," Thomas insisted. "We're like, pals. You can say whatever you want." He laughed.

Maven smiled. He liked the feeling of being able to say whatever he wanted; with Cal it felt like he was walking on eggshells. "Well, it's nice to have a friend outside of the village," he replied, waving his hand.

"Mm, yeah, though I guess I didn't have many friends in the slums," said Thomas thoughtfully. "Hey, maybe you should get back. It's almost sundown."

Really? Almost sundown? thought Maven in surprise. "I guess you're right." He stood up and stretched like a cat. "Thanks for looking out for me," he said, grinning.

Thomas shook his head in dismissal. "We're pals," he repeated lazily. "It doesn't bother me."