"I can't believe this…"

Therion's mood was beyond foul. Alfyn had told him about his little agreement on the side with the task force of Cobbleston. They were stuck. All because he can't keep his little goody-two-shoes act to himself! The thief grumbles and scowls to himself at the thought of being mired in this place. They were just asking to fight with the bandits. He sits against the wall, head on his arms, muttering crossly.

Primrose barely spares the sulking thief a glance before checking over her daggers. She had been a bit less careful retrieving them. A few she had lost in Clearbrook since she was unconscious. Her special slinging daggers were down to four. She could buy regular daggers, if only they didn't cost so damn much. Last night was not particularly abound with willing purses either. She sighs. Sadiq sits cross-legged on the floor, examining his spear.

Alfyn returns to the room with a tray of hot gruel.

"Heya, breakfast!" He grins. Therion growls in response.

The apothecary distributes the gruel to each of them with a spoon. Then he takes something out of his pocket and looks to Therion with a sympathetic smile.

"Heeeeey…."

Therion wordlessly turns away.

"Therioon!" Alfyn pleads, "C'mon, I told ya not t' get mad!"

"That was before you told me you got us stuck in bandit county!" Therion snarls, wolfing his hot porridge. He gags a bit when it scalds his throat.

Alfyn sighs, "Well I also got us the deposit back on the room! Here, you can keep my share if it'll help ya feel better a little…"

He offers the handful of coins to the recalcitrant thief. Therion seems to ignore it.

"C'mon Therion," Alfyn slurps a bit of his breakfast straight from the bowl in his other hand, "It's mostly just me! I'll jus' be helpin' patch some people up! You, Prim an' Sadi don't hafta do anything!"

"And what the hells are we supposed to do when you're in the thick of it?" Therion shoots back, "I suppose we'd have to come rescue you?"

"You would?" Alfyn blinks like the idea hadn't ever occurred to him. The thief clamps his own trap shut and turns his face away to shovel in more scalding hot gruel, ignoring the heat. He's glad his skin is a bit darker, so his light flush is masked.

The dancer sighs and quietly eats a spoonful of the grey stuff. Sadiq heartily and messily eats like a child, speckling his beard with bits of gruel. She cleans him with Yusufa's handkerchief.

"So, do you want it or not, Therion?" Alfyn presses.

With an irritated grunt, Therion snatches the coins from him. Alfyn chuckles a little nervously, before going to refund the dancer's share, "And here you go, Prim..."

She takes the coins silently from his hand.

"… When is this thing going to be over so we can leave," The thief says without looking at him, instead counting and stowing the change away.

"I'm about to head out! I'll ask Berg!" Alfyn grins, "You guys can stay or look around ya know? This could be great!"

Therion scoffs when the dirty blonde finally leaves, "Bandit county. Great. Stubborn ass."

"… Both sides lost quite a bit last night," Primrose says with slight disinterest, "I would be surprised if another attack like that happened."

"That's not the point," Therion throws down the empty bowl with a clatter, which is luckily made of wood, "These people here could drag him into some foolish assault. It's just … stupid to get involved in matters like this… We're only wasting time."

Yes. She was aware of this. With every detour, it is possible her chance at revenge slips further and further from her grasp. But like last night… could she ever just stand aside while that sort of thing happened before her?

"… But I see you're not exactly in a hurry."

She looks up at the thief. He looks at her almost accusingly.

"… What are you getting at?" She keeps her voice level at first as she addresses his statement, "I want to leave as wel-"

"You froze up a bit last night. Your daddy issues-"

He almost regretted it the moment he said that. Then he felt the air before his face compress for the fraction of a second. His head ducks just fast enough to the side as a lash of darkness slams the wall on the side of his head, cutting his cheek and some hairs. He sees the dark energy retreat quickly, vanishing back towards the dancer. She hadn't needed to lift a finger.

"… I'm sorry. You were saying?" She gives a small smile of innocence. He scowls and looks away. The lash had left a deep gouge in the wood. Luckily, no one else in the building seems to have taken notice of that.

"But if he does get in trouble…" She continues, "You'll go to his rescue, won't you?"

"Like hells…" Therion mutters, tossing the spoon into the empty bowl, "He'll probably get himself killed in some dark alley where no one will know. He fits right in with a dealer."

"How cold. But also, what a liar," She smiles. He decides she's just getting under his skin for fun.

"If that idiot gets in trouble, you could probably work your weird magic," He snorts slightly, "Wondering why you haven't, actually."

"He should be able to do what he wants. It's what he came out to accomplish anyways. And we are not his parents," She fingers a lock of hair, "Though you are certainly protective of him enough."

The thief decides against digging himself any deeper in and shuts up. Primrose smiles wily as she begins to apply her makeup.

…

Alfyn looks over the warrior named Berg who everyone seemed to have the utmost respect for here in Cobbleston. Injured warriors hobbled by, some on crutches, as the town recuperated from the ordeal last night.

The man was rather tall. Alfyn was one of the tallest people in Clearbrook. Berg passes him by several inches. He seems very stern and has a scarred face to boot. He could have been a soldier probably. Definitely older than himself. The clothes on him were very simple. He had leather armor over a white tunic and simple pants and shoes. Alfyn was most fascinated by that grey streaked hair. Meryl had joked with him a few times behind Ulinor's back that it was the worries which made her forehead crinkly and hair grey.

I'll bet Berg's got a lotta worries on his plate with these bandits an' whatnot.

The apothecary approaches the warrior with a wave and a friendly smile.

"G'morning Berg!"

"Ah, hail, Alfyn," The man raises a slight hand in salutations, "I hope you were able to rest at least a little after last night."

"Yeah, I slept like a log!" Alfyn sighs lightly, "Nothin' like hard work to put a person to sleep!"

"Indeed. There are some men who experienced discomfort from their wounds yesterday already. Are you-"

"Say no more!" Alfyn nods and gives a slight snort of determination from his nostrils, "A good apothecary has to check patients everyday! I'll go see 'em all!"

Berg nods, "Trevor has gone off to see some of them already. I will escort you to the others."

"Wow, Trevor woke up early! I figured he'd be as tired as I was after last night!" Alfyn pipes up as they walk around the mountain town, "I gotta up my play!"

Berg chuckles, "Trevor used to be an army medic. He is used to much of this sort of environment. We could not have asked for a better healer in town."

"Army material huh? That explains how he worked so quick an' all! Everyone here on the guard's force actually seems really well trained, come to think of it…"

"Aye, you have a sharp eye, lad. Cobbleston has many a man who used to work in … other businesses. Quite a few of the men I trained already had experience as mercenaries or guards. The captain of the watch himself was one such a man. He has the war injury to prove it."

"Ah, so that was him?" Alfyn perks up slightly, "I helped a guy with a bad knee yesterday… He seemed important. Wore old armor and everything."

"You work fast," Berg says as they approach a house, "Would you ever think of settling down here in Cobbleston with the other old souls?"

"Haha, I think I'll return to Clearbrook if I'm old! But I wouldn't mind visitin'!"

Berg nods with a small amused smile and knocks on the door. A young woman opens it and glances at Berg and Alfyn.

"O-oh, sir Berg!"

"Hail, Lila," Berg gestures at Alfyn, "He's come to see Colton's injuries."

"Oh, why yes, of course…" She steps aside so they may enter.

Colton? Wait, isn't that…

Alfyn doesn't finish his thought as he enters with Berg. The interior of the house is sparse and rather bare. There is a single bed, a chimney and a hearth, a table with three chairs, and a small cabinet by the window at the front of the house. Lain on the floor is some layered deerskin as a makeshift sleeping mat. On the bed is Colton. Alfyn stiffens slightly when he recognizes the body on the bed but tries a bit not to show it. The guard seems to be asleep, with his tunic unbuttoned to show his bandaged chest. On the side of his abdomen seems to have red seeping through.

"He fell dead asleep after the ordeal. But he was very warm this morning…" Lila says with growing worry in her voice.

"Hm. A fever perhaps…"

"I'll check," Alfyn puts his satchel down on the table and walks up to the bedside. He places a tentative hand on the man's forehead for a few seconds. It is rather warm.

"…Well?"

"Well, better safe than sorry… It could be the beginning of one," Alfyn goes to rummage through his pack, taking out this and that, "Ya got any water? Oh and a towel. A rag'll do too. Keep it wet and lay it on his forehead. I'll redress the wound an' see if there's some infection."

Lila nods and goes to fetch what he asked for. Berg stands by, watching the apothecary work. Alfyn was used to spectators. He focused only on the patient. It wasn't that bad of a wound, luckily. The fever is a natural thing to happen. It was a sign the body was fighting infection.

He undoes the wrappings to change them. Lila brings him the water and some clean rags. After wetting the rag, he wrings it and puts it on Colton's forehead. Then he washes the wound. It's a bloody furrow from a blade, likely dug in as the ruffian passed. As he cleans it, Colton stirs.

"Mmh…"

"Colton?" Lila perks up and looks over him worriedly, "Love, are you lucid?"

Ah, so they're sweethearts, realizes the apothecary.

"Lila… oh," Colton's eyelids open slight and he glances to her before his eyes lay on Alfyn, "You're…"

"Ehaha… almost done here! You'll be fine…" Alfyn says, not a hint of nervousness in his voice as he continues redressing the wound.

"The wound is alright?" Lila looks to the man in the green vest.

"Ah, yeah. Saw a lot worse last night. Should be able to walk by tomorrow or so… but no more fighting, or it'll open up, ya hear?"

"Tsk… But we … can't just let them waltz off after mounting an assault like that-!"

"We will need men to counterattack. And a wounded man on the field is worth two dead, Colton," Berg says gravely. He walks over to the bedside, "I want you to worry only about recuperation. I will tell Hans of your progress in recovery."

"Urgh… Sir Berg… But-"

"I won't hear another stubborn word out of your mouth," Berg says sternly, "You have worried Lila enough."

That's enough to shut the young man up. Alfyn quickly applies the fresh bandages. "Done!"

Berg nods and goes for the door, "Excuse us then, Lila. Next we shall go see Ernst."

"Ah, the goatherd?" Alfyn looks up as he packs away his things, "Oop, I'll need t' get more bandages on the way!"

"Thank you so much for your help…" Lila turns to Alfyn, "Um, it's not much but-"

"No, no payment!" Alfyn hurries after Berg with a slight wave, "Jus' happy t' help!"

Berg chuckles slightly as Alfyn comes out after him from the house, "You truly don't intend to get paid for any of your work."

"Hey, like I said. 'M plenty happy as it is bein' able t' help out," Alfyn folds his arms behind his head as they walk, "Yeesh, I never did get why everyone wants t' throw money at me jus' fer that!"

"They don't know how else to show their gratitude for what you do. It is quite a wonder, the healing arts," Berg nods slightly, "Wielding the sword is one thing. But to heal one wounded from it is a valuable skill that brings relief and hope. It is something one trained for war knows not."

"Ya talkin' about yerself, Berg?" Alfyn looks to the older man with innocent curiosity, "Ya said a lotta old warhorses're here in Cobbleston…"

Berg lets out a hearty laugh, "Warhorse… yes, I think that name suits it… I am a mercenary. I was originally hired as a combat instructor to teach the young men of Cobbleston so they might fend better against the bandit and monster threats in the area. For eight years now, however, I have lived here. So I no longer train these youngsters for money."

"For yer home right?"

"… I suppose, yes."

At the mention of "home," Berg's eyes seemed troubled for just a moment. Alfyn noticed this, since the older man was more emotive than the thief, and less adept at hiding it than Primrose.

"Uhh, Berg?"

"… Ah, here we are. Ernst's farm."

…

The inn room was a bit too stuffy for the dancer to languish in. The same went for the thief. They both wordlessly leave the inn, Sadiq following Primrose. It was nearing noon. It was certainly warming from their first windy day in the mountains.

As the dancer walked, people stared. It was natural at this point. The essence of the dark arts oozed from her body, though her form alone was reason enough. But after last night, it was not in the minds of all men to lay with her. They merely stared. Perhaps it's some of that discipline that the people of Sunshade lacked.

"E-excuse me!"

Primrose turns to the voice of the female. She faces the freckled face of a somewhat nervous-looking Noelle.

"Ah, you're… Noelle, right?"

"O-Oh! You remembered…" The barmaid flusters a bit, "Gosh, I'm kinda flattered… Usually, I'm hard-pressed to be at a loss for words, you see…"

"Of course," Primrose offers a small smile as an empty gesture, "Did you need something?"

"Erm, I just wanted to say I thought your dancing last night at the tavern… It was splendid! Unlike anything I'd ever seen here in the Highlands!"

"Oh, thank you," The dancer continues smiling.

"Um, the tavern keeper said I didn't have to work today… but I think he wouldn't mind you going to dance again…? I mean, not all nights are like yesterday, I swear. Erm… Say, that dance style is definitely from the Sunlands right? But which region? There's actually a complicated history about dancing in Sunland culture and it differs based on location, see-"

That prattling again. She had better things to do than have her day consumed by meaningless chatter.

"-and then king Marsalim decreed that the dancers of his court should be able to work without their veils and-"

"Ah, sorry dear," Primrose finally interrupts, "I have somewhere to be."

"O-Oh, that's fine! Sorry if I babb-"

Her apology is cut short by a sudden shriek and monkey noises from Sadiq.

"OOOHHHHH! AAAGAAHH!"

Everyone, even Primrose, turns head to stare at the bearded coot wildly gesticulating. He seems to be pointing at something. Primrose glances in that direction. Her eyes fall near the northern gate of Cobbleston.

She understood at once.

"Everyone get down!"

There is a sickening crunch. From higher up the mountain, a medium-sized boulder fell. There is crimson staining the underside of the rock where it hit and squashed the woman. Her arm sticks out still from under it. There is a wild twitch of the extremities before it is still. Then panic erupts.

"Rockslide!"

The dancer scans the ridge of the mountains once more as everyone else runs, including the chatty barmaid. No, it wasn't a natural stone that just fell. There was something moving along the ridge…

"Bad, bad monkeys…" Sadiq mutters under his breath as he takes a fighting stance, "Don't waste nuts…!"

"They're clever alright…" Primrose goes up to the nearest guard amid the chaos, "Hey, it's not a real rockslide. The bandits are pushing down the boulders…!"

"Even so, ma'am, we must get the villagers to safety."

The dancer lets him do his job. The rocks suddenly stopped falling, but people were not done running. Then, like the storm after the calm, there was screaming once more, and the accursed toll of the bell.

"Bandits!" Another guard comes running, "They're coming from the south gate!"

"What?! All the townspeople are taking shelter there!"

Primrose saw their game now. Scare the people to take refuge at a lower area, then attack with them all grouped. The attack last night might very well have been a rather rowdy reconnaissance on Cobbleston's layout, which allowed them to formulate this. Those bandits infest this mountain like a termite's nest.

"Helloooo Cobbleston!"

Armed figures with ugly grins of malice stand by the north entrance. The guards balk a bit as they take position.

"Spare some food fer yer poor mountain men?" The bandit with a gruff red beard grins, showing missing teeth, "We'll leave ya some scraps, bandit's honor."

"Charge!"

"Don't let a single one of those greasy bastards through!"

Primrose stands back a bit from the fray. Without a warning, Sadiq runs in, ululating a war cry. Despite the manpower, some of the bandits slip through, running about the venues and streets. Down towards the lower part of town are now those same cries. It was a well-planned pincer, with the most vulnerable trapped down there.

Primrose almost was too distracted to notice one jump for her. She would have killed him fine though, if not for a great sword striking him down first. It's that man from last night, with the scarred face and grey-streaked hair. He glances her over after felling the ruffian before going to join the other guards. She stares a bit. The way he looked at her was most peculiar.

"Prim!"

She turns to see Alfyn run up, nearly breathless.

"Alfyn, thank goodness you're alright."

"Ehe, I could say the same fer you! Lucky thing Berg got the guy, eh?"

Ah, right, he was Berg.

"W-where's Sadi? And Therion?" The thought dawns on Alfyn.

"Sadiq is fighting. I don't know where Therion is."

"Ehh? We gotta go find 'im! The place is swarming with bandits!"

"He has more lives than a cait, I'll bet," She smirks at the thought.

"Prim!" The exasperated apothecary yelps.

…

Therion went about his business immediately after leaving that annoying dancer. Alfyn isn't here to watch him so he does what he does best as a thief. There are some nice purses for the picking here. Living up in such an elevation is a bit like isolation. The people didn't have much to spend money on and live rather austere lives. So, they were lain out rather easily as prey.

There were only those guards around town he had to keep an eye out for. Those damn bandits. They always make trouble for good thieves, riling up the local security and making people warier targets.

He tosses a coin pouch, the most recent prize from some old man he passed. It was filled with leaves. He counted about 200 or more, easily. With a smirk, he stashes it away under his cloak.

Should've hid your money better than stowing it all in one place.

He actually goes and buys a Highland apple instead of stealing it for lunch. It was much crunchier and a bit sour than those from lower altitudes. He ate sitting by a crook between some stairs and one of the houses to remain inconspicuous. He also had to make sure he didn't bump into Alfyn.

From the house nearby, he hears a yelp, as do several others passing by. Then he hears the apothecary's reassuring voice. He's working this close by?

The thief pops the rest of the core into his mouth. But he's careful not to swallow any of the seeds. Then he makes his way over to the house and peers in through an ajar window.

Sure enough, the apothecary is in there, fixing another person up. He doesn't seem tired at all despite having worked all morning. Therion watches as he sets the person's broken leg and then wrap it, all the while yammering away about fishing. Despite the uninspiring conversation, it took him an uncharacteristically long time to notice the other person in the room with Alfyn. A stern looking man with a large sword and leather armor… likely this "Berg" figure he's heard about.

After Alfyn finishes up, the thief quietly steals away and makes his way through some alleys, threading between houses and the back roads so he wouldn't see him. It was honestly weird, how he's trying to avoid Alfyn as he does this. Was he ashamed for some reason? Because of the difference in their professions?

That princess certainly didn't have this much to worry about. She flaunted her ill-reputed career and could do it in plain sight. Thievery was something… more subtle and … dare he say it, underhanded.

He wasn't a noble thief after all. Those stories about the ones who stole from the rich to give to the poor never appealed to him. He shut them out and looked elsewhere from those kinds of self-righteous people. Seeing Alfyn work reminded him of those stories … only, he couldn't easily take his eyes away.

Yer a sentimental fool, Therion. Ya think too much.

He sits down on a stoop away from the main paths. Traveling with these three was really making him sloppy. Since when and why should he worry about this?

Time lost meaning for a bit as Therion sat there to clear his head. He wasn't sure about the position of the sun from when he started to when he stopped. It wouldn't do to go back out there and slip up because of his thoughts. And boy, was his head crowded these days…

Then he heard the screaming, the thuds, and the bell.

Oh great…

He stands and dusts off his pants. There is a stampede of people in the main street, running in panic away from the upper mountain part of town.

I'll bet my top leaves it's bandits. Too bad there was no one to bet with.

He pokes his head out of his hiding place. No bandits in sight just yet. It might not be too late to hightail it back to the inn and sit this one out. He starts to make his way there, avoiding the venues where panic was driving the crowds.

It was near the top that he realized the eyes on him. Skirting a corner, he makes a turn and ends up seemingly in a secluded area where the townsfolk do their laundry. Strings of drying clothes hang in strings overhead, crisscrossing from the surrounding buildings, with a covered stone well in the middle.

Great.

Therion hears the feet behind him. He growls, hand twitching near his dagger. Slowly, he turns his head a little.

"Alright, you sneaky fuc-"

The first thing he saw was a blur. Then he felt his face collapse in on itself from the force of the impact. He hadn't heard the steps as the pursuer got close. Close enough to punch his lights out.

His body sails through the air for a second and lands with a thud at the foot of the well. For a few seconds, all he saw was bright spots flickering in his vision. His body was already reacting, going to try and stand after that jarring blow.

"…" The thief wipes at the crimson dripping down his nose. He quietly thanks Aeber that it doesn't feel broken. But his entire face still stings.

"So, this was the one that gave you boys a run fer your leaves?"

As the thief's vision returns, he sees the one who hit him. It's a big, burly and unshaven man with a horned helm. Draped above his wide shoulders is a pelt cloak. The rest of his clothes are simple, with leather body armor and blue pants. Sheathed at his side is a worn sword, which looks too nice for him. Flanking him are two brigands. One of them speaks up.

"Y-yeah, they's the one that killed Murray last night! I saw 'im!"

Therion pulls out his dagger now, his growling much more pronounced. The man, who seems to be a leader of the ruffians, merely gives a mocking grin.

"You ain't from around here, are ya?"

"Who wants to know?" Therion snarls.

"Well, from one outlaw to another…"

He points at Therion. Therion glances slightly at what he was pointing at exactly. His bangle. After all the trekking to Cobbleston, the wrappings were loose. Alfyn had fixed it. The recent fighting and punch had unraveled it. With the situation in this town, it had slipped his mind to redo the wrapping.

"… Don't talk to me like we're all buddy-buddy," Therion mutters, redirecting his glare.

"Hey, this is good for you. After all, wouldn't you be interested in keeping your life today?" The man grins and folds his arms, "Unless you prefer being hacked up by me, Gaston!"

It was true he was at a disadvantage. But you can't ever show that.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm saying you're lucky. You look to be on good terms with the people here," Gaston chortles when the sounds of surrounding chaos momentarily spike, "I'm thinking we can do a nice little exchange?"

Therion eyes him warily. This guy wasn't an ordinary brigand, for sure. He wasn't voraciously after the same crap like the others. At least, not in the same direct way. The thief does not say anything, instead just keeping his eyes trained on the three before him.

"Our den. We might have some way to break that Fool's Bangle off of your arm."

Now that gets his attention. But one never trusts the words of another, especially not a bandit.

"Oh yeah?" Therion quirks an eyebrow, feigning interest.

"Yeah, maybe. We got meanwhile a rather big pest here. The name of Berg."

Berg. Alfyn mentioned that guy. He sounds important to these bandits. Therion keeps quiet again.

"See, he's been givin' us a bit of a hard time here. And we'd like to… invite him to our den to civilly discuss, see?"

Ah, so that's their angle.

"Uh huh," Therion says, unamused. To refuse outright would be annoying because he'd probably have to fight. It's best to accept and never fulfill it. After all, these were bandits. Luring you into their hideout with goodies is one of the oldest tricks in the book.

"You're interested aintcha?" Gaston shows his yellowish teeth in a fierce grin, "We outlaws gotta stand together against the current of the law y' know? 'Else we' get swept away."

His ruffian underlings seemed confused the whole time, sharing bemused glances at each other. Their boss clearly hadn't spoken to them about making deals with some thief marked with a bangle.

"You're honestly putting trust in another outlaw?" Therion scoffs lightly, "Why not just kidnap a hostage? That'll get him running to you."

"'Ey that don't sound half bad, Gaston!" One of the ruffians behind Gaston pipes up, "I'll git right to it!"

The ruffian runs off, leaving his partner awkwardly standing there. Gaston rolls his eyes at his other lackey. The other ruffian runs off too, leaving Gaston alone with the thief.

Yet… I can't trust him to be an easy one, even alone. He had gotten a solid punch on the thief after all.

Gaston sighs, "Well, if you're still up to join us… We can help you, y' know mate?"

Gods, that tone of … was it pity? Camaraderie?

"… I'll see if I feel like it," Therion mutters.

"The party'll be just up the mountaintop north of here. I'll be expecting you," Gaston waves a beefy arm slightly as he turns to go.

For a second, Therion was thinking about blindsiding him with his back turned. Then he saw the thing on his arm and stopped. It was at the base of the forearm, near the elbow. The flesh was raised and discolored from the surrounding skin. But he knew from the pattern it was no ordinary scar. It was a brand seared onto his skin.

The Gladiator's Brand.

Among the archaic ways of marking criminals, the Gladiator's Brand is better known than the Fool's Bangle. Those who are unfortunate enough to be caught multiple times for misdemeanors were usually branded around their third time being arrested. Most of the time, it meant the virtual end of your life as a member of society. The meaning behind it was similar to the bangle. Those who were unable to avoid capture for their crimes were forever marked for their stupidity. They called it the gladiator's since it was usually found on slave fighters. But Therion had seen some failed thieves share that same unfortunate fate. The mark looks like a seared rectangle in the skin, with a ropy scar across the middle.

…So, that was his reason for putting that ridiculous trust in me? Therion scoffs. Stupid. Who the hell ever trusts a thief so easily.

…

Cobbleston once again has devolved into a pandemonium.

Berg swore internally as he swung his sword at the ruffians. Damn, damn, damn it all…! They were already wary of him, instead moving towards easier targets. He kept up with them, blocking for his allies. These blows were nothing. They could never staunch the rage bubbling over inside. How long… for how long will these brigands plague this fair village?

They were here before he was. He had merely been wandering about, under the name Berg. This village is not too far from where the territory of Hornburg used to stand. He could not step foot back into the former cities of the fallen empire. The feeling of disgrace was too strong. But he could not bring himself to leave the Highlands, where he'd spent a majority of his life. So, he came to Cobbleston, a hamlet few heard of, for a semblance of some fresh start. In town, he had helped stop some acts of banditry by pure chance. Upon seeing him handle the invaders, the town mayor insisted in hiring him for defense purposes in the town. When he made it clear that he was not seeking to be an eternal guard, the mayor convinced him to at least train some budding youth to fend off threats.

The town has been kind and his stay has been favorable. That is indisputable. He now has a property here, lent on account of the mayor. His living expenses here were almost completely covered, and he made extra allowance for food by doing odd jobs here and there, like woodcutting and the occasional monster hunt.

Cobbleston also had fine people, some of the nicest in the realm perhaps. Many of the youths have come to look up to him as the watch came to be formed, and even the captain looked to him for advice time and again. The mayor trusts him completely. Young men like Philip have come to also…

Yet, these roaches in human skin seem to only have redoubled their efforts since he came.

"HO!"

A bandit leaps at him. Amid his thoughts, he would have been a second too slow to block. But a polearm runs the attacker through from the side. Holding the weapon is the old man with the loose garments of the Sunlands.

"…! You have my thanks!"

"Watch your head, Finny!" The old man barks.

Berg blinks, slightly confused. The old man must have mistaken him for someone else.

Regardless, they were embroiled in battle. He had little time to dwell on it as he swings and parries another blow. Yet, he found his eyes occasionally go back to the old man, who moved with ferocity he could never have imagined for one his age. And that spear of his was definitely battle-grade.

He wasn't the only oddity here. Near Alfyn is the dancer from last night, the one in red, who slings daggers in a most curious manner. Her movements were alluring. But something about her simply felt… off. Maybe it was last night. He hadn't fully seen what she did, but she seemed to have stopped a stray arrow with her dagger? Yet he had felt something else. A slight malevolent force. It had moved too fast for his eyes.

"Argh!" One of the watch falls, his cries alerting Berg, pulling him violently from his thoughts.

Berg sees red once more and barrels at the offending bandit preparing a final blow. Red, but not quite as in rage. It was the same red that poured out of the men that day behind the lines in Hornburg. It was the same red that leaked from King Alfred's decapitated trunk. It was the same red dripping off that damn sword, in that man's damn hands…

It was the red blood of those he failed to protect.

"RAAAAH!"

He gives a roaring battle cry. It reverberates over the area, from this upper part of Cobbleston and all over. Everyone seems to visibly flinch at his roar, or at least turn their head.

"You will NEVER have your way with the fair folk of Cobbleston!"

He brandishes his blade. The bandits seem visibly disheartened seeing his stance radiating power. A few brave ones try to rally yet.

"C-c'mon y' yellow-bellies! 'E's jus' one-"

Berg closes the distance with the bandit in a single stride. He feels his blade swing upward and catch the body. The next moment, in a spray of blood, the bandit is sent flying through the air, landing several meters behind his comrades. He no longer speaks or moves.

"Come at me!" Berg snarls at the remainder.

For a moment, the bandits seemed at a loss. Then there is suddenly a loud laugh, louder than some other shrill scream from the lower part of the mountain, and then at the north.

"Let's pull back for now, boys! We got what we wanted."

Berg and the other townspeople look up and see a stocky figure at the north entrance. He has a horned helm and fur pelt cloak, and is surrounded by a few bandits … and Cobbleston townspeople. There are about three, captive it seems in the hands of the bandits. Berg recognizes Noelle the barmaid, Ernst, and his sister, Amelia. They seem to struggle in in vain against their captors.

"LET THEM GO, YOU-"

The bandit leader with the horns laughs heartily, "Come take them from us if you dare! I'll be waiting in our lair at the mountain summit! Let's settle this, eh?!"

With a flap of his cape, he makes his dramatic exit. The bandits begin to flock out of the village after him. Berg moves at first to go after them, then restrains himself. Several of the watch look to him.

"Sir Berg, what …shall we do?"

"… We need to see to the damages to the town first. And then we shall… pursue them," Berg grits his teeth together.

"B-but the hostages?"

"… They will keep them alive if they wish to taunt us. Now go. We must be quick…"

Alfyn goes immediately to the fallen, already working with his apothecary tools to patch them up. The watch briskly moves to carry out his order. He prayed to Brand his judgement was correct.

…

The thief finally rejoined with the party at the tavern amid the aftermath. The tavern is near the square, where a gathering of the local guard seems to be happening. He espies the man with the great sword and grey streaked hair that was with Alfyn in that wounded soldier's house. That could be Berg.

"Therion!" Alfyn embraces the thief and then immediately looks him over, "Are ya alright? Gadzooks, I was worried…"

Therion had washed his bloodied face in the well. But Alfyn easily spotted the early signs of some bruising. Immediately, he cools down the nasal bridge with his touch.

"Shucks… anywhere else hurt on ya?"

Therion shakes his head.

"Where were you amid the chaos?" The dancer pipes up from behind Alfyn. She and Sadiq are sitting on some nearby stools. The tables in the tavern were once again converted to examination tables, but the damage seems better controlled than last night.

"Sir Alfyn?" A young, brown haired boy walks up to interrupt them, a wooden sword at his side, "Sir Berg has requested your presence at the meeting of the watch!"

"Huh? Oh, oh, ok! I'll see you guys later, alright?" Alfyn says as he goes out the door.

"… I wonder what it could be about…" Primrose muses. Therion stays quiet to try and still that sinking feeling in his stomach. He is secretly glad the child stopped Primrose's query.

"Hey, you… kid," Therion says, slightly hoarse.

"Huh? My name's Philip!" The kid chirps.

"Whatever. What's going on? You look like you know a thing or two."

"Tis just awful. Big sis Noelle and two others were carted off by them horrible bandits! They're discussin' right now to storm those baddies in their lair up the mountain!"

"… Don't tell me… they mean to take Alfyn with them?" Primrose swears slightly under her breath. Therion shares the same sentiment. But he stays silent, instead bolting for the door.

Outside, in the square, there is some low murmuring surrounding some louder voices as a small crowd of civilians looks to the guard. Berg seems to be speaking with some counsel.

"…they want me, mostly likely."

"But sir! Going alone like that…! Even you-"

"He won't be alone!" Therion has to resist slapping his forehead, hearing Alfyn chime in, "I'll go with 'im!"

Good gods.

"He'll be in good hands, rest assured!" Aaaand he's still talking.

"Oh, he's that new healer in town…"

Therion edges closer. Past the small crowd gathered, the Berg guy and Alfyn are standing with some members of the watch facing them. A bearded man dressed in worn, yet stately clothes has an aura of authority despite the panicked feel overall. He seems like the village headman. Clearing his throat, he looks to Berg.

"You speak true and prudently, Berg, that you may be the target they want. But are you truly prepared for this? Those are animals which await you in their own den."

"… Aye, headman. I cannot back down. The leader of those brigands will rue having taunted me by endangering others," Berg nods slightly, a grim look on his face.

"Alright. You are our only hope then… all other members of the watch are to stand guard around Cobbleston. Once the threat of another invasion is stayed, we will send reinforcements for you posthaste, Berg," The headman sighs, "Will you be setting out immediately?"

Berg nods and glances at Alfyn. Alfyn blinks before he realizes his response is being awaited.

"O-Oh! Yeah, I could go now! I think I got enough herbs."

"Please restock as you see fit. Do not go ill-prepared. I will send an aide telling them of the urgency so it will not come at a cost to you," The headman nods slightly, "Be careful."

Therion briskly walks away, practically storming back into the tavern. The dancer looks up at his entry. He barely notices the Philip kid trailing him.

"… He's going, isn't he…" Primrose sighs, reading his mood instantly. He barely nods.

"Was that your friend up there with Sir Berg?" Philip looks to the two of them, "Sir Berg is the finest warrior in the Highlands, mayhap the world! So you needn't be worried!"

Therion almost wanted to kick the kid. Punt him down the mountainside.

"Is that so…" Primrose mutters slightly, "The finest warrior, hm?"

"Yes! I only wish he'd train me more… How I'd love to help out in the watch! Me dad used to be a soldier too, y' know?"

Is everyone in this gods damned town talkative to no end? When the thief didn't want to hear anything, suddenly their lips were loose with their whole life story.

Therion plunks down on a stool, clearly in a foul mood. Alfyn enters shortly, smiling like usual.

"Hey guys!" He approaches, "Why so glum?"

"Sir Alfyn!" Philip quips up at him, "You're heading out soon with Sir Berg, right?"

"Ehehe, just Alfyn's fine, Philip!" Alfyn chuckles, dropping to the kid's eye level on one knee.

"I- I never spoke to you! How do you know my…" The boy flusters.

"Hehe, Berg told me about ya! 'Said yer a real nice kid!"

Philip both glows and blushes a bit. He grins, a bit goofy, before quickly excusing himself and running out of the establishment. Alfyn smiles watching the kid go, before turning back to the dancer and thief seated nearby. Sadiq seems to be sitting rather silently, eyes occasionally rolling about.

"What's up?" Alfyn tilts his head slightly at them, "The air 'round you two's thicker than curdled milk!"

"Alfyn…" Primrose says after a pause, "You're running headfirst into danger again…"

"Aha…" Alfyn rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, "I can't jus' look away, Prim… I can help so…"

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should," Therion nearly spat that out, "At least in Clearbrook they knew you. These are complete strangers."

Alfyn frowns, "C'mon you guys… I mean, weren't we near strangers when we helped each other?"

"… What Therion means is," Primrose suavely swoops in, "These aren't just animals, Alfyn. Men are several times more dangerous than beasts. And these are those who have little qualms about butchering women and children. We're worried for you."

"Well, shucks. Yer right about all that. I can't say I'm the strongest guy t' go with Berg… But I can handle my own!" Alfyn smiles, "And I'm grateful y'all're worried for me, really."

Therion looks away, somewhat crossly. Primrose only sighs. She knew it was hopeless to try and talk him out of it. He was Alfyn after all.

"Perhaps … we should come with you…" The dancer lightly rubs her forehead with a pensive hand. It was clear she was reluctant to get involved with anything about this. But she wouldn't let him charge in with some macho man alone.

"Eh, you guys don't hafta force yerselves! I'll be fine, really!" Alfyn flusters a bit, "I said ya guys can lay back… I don't wanna drag ya into anythin'…!"

"…" The dancer and thief surreptitiously share a glance. They both were on the same page, despite the thief's annoyance at the whole affair.

"… Just shut up and tell us when you're leaving. Then we can decide that for ourselves," The thief scowls. He was awful at showing he cared. Probably because he hated that he cared.

Alfyn looks exasperatedly at the two of them. Primrose gives him a helpless smile and shrug, eyes glancing at Therion. The thief doesn't look to either of them. A slight amused smile forms on Alfyn's lips and he doesn't try to keep a straight face.

"Hehe, you guys…" He chuckles sheepishly, "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

Therion pretends not to hear him, merely giving a slight huff. Primrose smiles softly.

"Well, the mayor said I oughta stock up for a bit, but we're headin' out quick. Meet us at the north gate in a couple minutes, ok? I'm off t'check out what herbs they got here…!"

The dancer nods and waves a little as the energetic apothecary leaves the tavern. The thief lets out a fuming sigh. Primrose looks to him with a slight smirk.

"You really aren't good with your emotions," She says, quirking an eyebrow slightly, "He was happy. You didn't have to be so defensive… not that it's hard to see that you actually care."

"Whatever," He grunts irritably, "What do I care if he wants to run off and get himself killed…"

"Well, you do care, like it or not. And we've volunteered at this rate, so let's get ready to meet him," Primrose sighs now, "Men are so much harder to deal with when they act like they're creatures separate from their emotions."

Therion rolls his eyes, muttering, "Says the one wearing a mask all the time."

The dancer merely chuckles at his retort. Her mask is impeccable.

…

It was only a short span of time before the apothecary and the warrior stood before the north gate of Cobbleston. Berg looks up, surprised, at the entourage gathered there as well. A dancer in red, a thief in purple, and the old Sunlander man.

"Hey guys!" Alfyn waves enthusiastically before looking to Berg, "These're my friends!"

"… Hail," Berg says with slight hesitance, "Are they here to see us off?"

"Ah, yeah… Actually, they're hopin' t' come with… I hope that's no problem…" Alfyn quickly adds, "They wanna help!"

Berg pauses before sighing, "… I suppose any help at this point is… appreciated. Cobbleston's own watch is needed here..."

Therion rolls his eyes and moves to walk out past the gate, "Can we get moving already? Don't want to end up finding the hostages dead, right?"

The thief's words rouse the warrior and he strides ahead of Therion and up the mountain trail. Alfyn jogs after him, followed by the rest of the entourage. Therion, in his foul mood, walks ahead of Primrose, leaving Sadiq to half-lucidly watch the rear. Shortly out of Cobbleston, the path turns rocky, similar to the road up the Highlands. It seems to have been trodden more however, and so is less difficult to walk on. But the drop is no less precarious.

"So… these bandits're up in some cave, right?" Alfyn pipes up after a few long minutes of silent walking.

"Aye. We'd known of many caves within the mountains. But the dangers they posed prevented thorough investigation. However, we are quite confident that they are hiding in one of those in the higher altitudes, away from the monsters lower in the Highlands."

"Oh great, we're gonna risk a goose chase at this point," Therion mutters, "For all you know, it's a complete maze system in there."

Before anyone else says anything, there is a clatter of rock nearby, behind the party. Sadiq instantly whirls around and strikes an offensive pose at the ready. The others look back in surprise at the noise's direction. There is a small sound like "yeep!"… and then no further sound for a few moments. Primrose looks to the old man ready to spring.

"Sadiq, did you see it?"

Sadiq silently walks near a cluster of rock, not answering. With a lightning motion of his arm, he wrangles out a struggling, smaller form from the rocks. The old man holds it at arm's length as it kicks and cries out. The others stare a bit, gawking.

"L-Lemme go!"

"P-Philp…!?" Berg speaks first, balking at the sight of the boy, "Y-you followed us!"

"Erm… Oh, hello Sir!" Philip says, trying to keep nervousness out of his voice, "I-I decided to come along…"

"Oh geez…" Therion curses inwardly. His bad mood must've dulled his senses. He hadn't heard the steps of the child following them at all.