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Chapter Text

The sparse lanterns spread out among the rows of cells in the Coronan dungeon did not offer proper workplace illumination. Varian had to strain his eyes to see the small symbols etched into the wall in front of him.

He had recently scavenged a piece of brittle white chert from the ground outside his cell and had been using it to write on the walls of the small box he occupied. In the beginning, he had foolishly started at about eye level, and was now scrounging for more room on his side of the cell. He had not yet had the time in the cell to fully cover up the full surface area of the wall. Especially when the guards had taken away his last writing implement several weeks back, and he had to stop.

Varian had also been writing much smaller than he would have liked, to further conserve the precious space on the wall. Today, he was kneeling on the stone floors writing onto the stones only a foot or so off the ground. He supposed that when he finally ran out of wall space, he’d move on to the floor and any other place he could reach.

He had asked his cellmate once if he could continue writing on the walls on his side, the man told him he’d be beaten black and blue if he tried it.

What was he thinking about again?

Oh yeah, torches.

How he craved to have his glowing staff back or any of the strong oil lanterns from back at home. Home had been the perfect lab setup. Perfect lighting, so much space to move around, so many materials and chemicals... a dad who would carry him to bed when he fell asleep while working.

Varian’s grip tightened and he swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat.

No, don’t go there. He said to himself. The suffocating, crushing grief was only kept at bay by staying constantly busy. Busy solving the problem, finding the right chemical combination.

Wait, what had I written there?

Varian rubbed at his eyes and refocused.

He had developed another thirty-three possible chemical combinations that he might try on the amber encasing his father. He was keenly aware of how slim the chances were that any of them would work. Without the aid of the celestial magic that made the amber so durable in the first place, he was operating at a major disadvantage. He would just have to make do without the magic, or proper tools, or even proper lighting.

The torches were good for one thing: keeping the time. Early in the morning, they were lit as the guards were changed and then, in the early evening they were extinguished. Otherwise, this deep underground, there would have been no way to tell one day from the next.

Varian had been carefully cataloging the passage of time and how many days he had been in the cell.

141 days and still no trial, thank you very much!

But today he was more concerned with the day of the month.

He knew he needed to hurry up and get as much work done in the morning as possible. Pretty soon the guards would come and take him from his cell. Whenever the guards took him up, they always threw a bag over his head and shackled him up.

Most of the time, after the… excursions, the guard on duty would simply drop him back into his cell in the same state. Bag and shackles and all. One even left him that way for a few days on end once.

In the beginning, his cellmate had been good enough to at least pull back the hood for him, and seemingly try to look after him. But recently… recently the man, Andrew, had been trying to secure his help with… whatever it was he was always talking about. When Varian refused, he also saw the end of Andrew’s cooperation.

The man still tried to persuade him to his side, but he seemed to think the cold shoulder treatment would be a more effective tactic.

Varian shook his head pushing away all other thoughts as he tried to remember the symbol for turpentine. But it was too late. His concentration broken, Varian groaned as he became aware of the ache in his knees and sat back on his heels.

“They’re going to take you up again today.” His cellmate said matter of fact. “Unless you want to blow chunks in front of our gracious hosts again, you aren’t going to have much use for breakfast.” Andrew was already taking liberties with the piece of tough bread intended for Varian.

He hummed his acknowledgment and continued to stare at the wall with all his scribblings.

“No babies to steal candy from, so you’ll settle for stealing bread from children?” Lady Caine spoke out from her cell.

Andrew scoffed. "Mind your own business, wench."

"Not sure how you Coronans do things, but in Saporia we don't waste food," Clementine spoke out from her cell in defense of her leader.

"Save it for later, Hubert." Caine ignored the other woman.

Axel snorted in agreement from his cell. Pocket and Otter also echoed their agreement.

Dale was tapping rhythmically on the bars of his cell. Dwayne grunted in annoyance.

The pirates continued to bicker with the Saporian Separatists. Varian turned back to his work. This would probably go on for a while.

“After all I’ve done for the kid, I deserve this much at least.” Andrew snapped in response to something that Lady Caine had said.

“Oh, my Sun! Dale! I'm going to slam that cell door on your skull repeatedly if you don't stop that noise!" Dwayne shouted cutting through the noise.

“It’s better than listening to this bickering!” Dale shouted right back. “And you guys—” He turned to the arguing criminals. “Just ask the kid if it’s okay.”

Every eye in the block turned to where Varian was kneeling on the ground examining his writing.

“Huh? What?” Varian looked between the people outside his cell and the man inside his cell. “Oh yeah, whatever.”

Like that was a real choice, stand up for a single meal and potentially get murdered by his cellmate. Right.

“See? There you go.” Andrew said triumphantly picking up the second heel of bread.

“Save it for later,” a low stern voice sounded from two cells down. The huge hulking form of Bernsie Stabbington leaned out from his cell to glare into theirs.

A tense silence stretched through the cell block as everyone waited for Andrew’s next move.

“Oh, come on!” Andrew protested weakly.

"Drop it, or I snap your neck next chance I get," Stabbington ordered.

The Saporian cursed but dropped the bread and sat down on the floor of the cell to eat his own meal.

Varian released a breath in relief as the tense moment passed. He gave a small smile to the Stabbington, who simply nodded and leaned back on his bench.

He also sent a grateful look over at Caine, but then quickly ducked his head when Andrew turned to look his way.

The man didn’t steal his food too often. With how little they were given down there, it would have been troublesome if he did. Varian had already lost a considerable amount of weight during his extended stay. He was somewhat alarmed the last time he changed clothes and looked down to see his ribs.

That had been rather shocking for him to deal with. But eventually, he reasoned with his mind that he was not in fact starving, simply underfed. He was always a skinny kid; Dad couldn’t put weight on him for anything. So really, the sharp and sudden decline in his caloric intake, while bad and uncomfortable for the other prisoners, looked particularly bad on him. But that was simply because of his body type.

Yep, that’s his story and he’s sticking to it.

Being locked up physically meant that Varian had been escaping into his head a lot. Sometimes his body felt like it was foreign to him, simply the fragile vessel of his consciousness.

Varian called it "going away inside." Andrew called it "disassociating."

The incredible dearth of stimulation would do that to a person, he reasoned. Varian was someone who always had to be doing something. Growing up on a farm, there was almost always something to do; chores, tending the fields, attacking some problem, designing a new invention, working through a roadblock to his research. (Something! Anything!) And when his dad forced him to take breaks from his alchemical pursuits, he would escape into fantasy. Flynn Rider, old fables, tales of Demanitus, and other great folk heroes. Even music or sketching.

Varian missed having a goal he could actively and tangibly work towards. Something he could fully throw himself into, and actually see results for his efforts.

It was almost enough to make him want to take Andrew up on his offers… Just so he could have a cause again.

For whatever reason, it had been decided early on that Varian was not allowed any reading or writing materials. What he had been able to improvise was often confiscated, usually after a thorough and humiliating search. Varian didn’t feel like getting another beating over a lousy piece of charcoal, so he had been much more careful with the contraband since then.

Speaking of which… three fake sharp coughs echoed through the dungeon in warning, from one of the neighboring cells.

He swallowed down his panic. Sure enough, a few moments later, the doors of the dungeon swung open, and the sound of heavy boots and clanking armor followed.

Varian had already quickly put the chert under his tongue and by the time the guards stopped in front of his cell, he was the picture of innocence. He stood against the wall, hands visible and flat against the stone, legs spread apart for the impending search.

The guards entered. One had a sword trained on Andrew who stood in the corner, arms raised. The other was a new face that Varian did not recognize. She performed the search more professionally than some of the others might have, not letting hands linger, nor being overly thorough or rough.

Varian hoped. She’d slip up and make a mistake. 

Unfortunately, she expertly applied the manacles to his wrists and secured them tightly in front of him. She threw the customary burlap sack over his head and sharply yanked his shoulder away from the wall to urge him along.

“Let’s go.” She ordered sternly.

The yank came before the verbal order so Varian, in his blinded state, had not been expecting it. He stumbled and nearly fell to the ground.

Why were grownups always like that? Expecting to be obeyed perfectly. They think just because they have been around for a few more years that they are entitled to his blind obedience, and they don’t even have to explain themselves.

Varian hated it.

“The ‘Guard Voice’ needs a little work.” Varian snarked. “You sound more like a snippy nursemaid than a guard of the crown. Might be fine for me but try it on one of the grownups in this place and they’ll laugh in your face.”

As if to prove his point, Andrew gave a surprised, then quickly aborted laugh from the other side of the cell.

The guard said nothing, pulling him out of the cell and slamming the door behind him. Varian just failed to suppress a jump in surprise at the loud clang.

“No need to get hostile.” He teased as they moved as a group through the rows of cells. “It was just some friendly advice.”

Despite being blinded by the sack on his head, Varian had a fairly good mental map of the layout of the prison, from when he was first brought in, and even from before.

He had a fairly good mental map of most of the castle. Back when he had been helping Cassandra, he had roamed all around the place, doing chores and getting lost trying to do more chores. Not to mention that night that he had snuck all around trying to find the Queen's quarters.

“Quiet!” The guard snapped at his earlier comment. “Why are we doing all this for one mouthy kid, anyway?” She asked one of her companions.

“Didn’t they tell you?” Varian answered before any of the other guards had the chance. “I’m a pretty big deal! I’m the youngest prisoner, the only one who has never been tried or sentenced, the only one not allowed anything in my cell— Not even religious texts! Guess my soul is too far gone, anyway—”

Varian was cut off from his chatting when he felt another sharp yank on his shoulder pulling him to a stop.

Varian felt a sharp sting across his face.

He allowed himself a moment to recoil and recover from the pain. The blow had not been well-aimed, most likely due to the bag on his head. It ended up catching him about his chin rather than full-on his cheek like most open-handed slaps were intended to.

He was about to open his mouth and chastise the new guard for her aim when another voice rang out.

“We do not interrupt the transfer process to discipline the prisoner,” the commanding voice of the Captain rang out. “Otherwise, he could act out in certain places, strategically,” he explained.

Varian was surprised to hear the man today. He rarely ever did this kind of ugly corrections work personally.

“Yes, because I really wanted to stop here so I could collect a rope and lock pick from the third abandoned northern corridor past Cell Block A.” Varian said hoping the eyeroll came across in his tone.

The new guard gasped. He wasn’t sure if it was because he knew exactly where they were in the castle or how he spoke to her boss.

The Captain didn’t let him zero in on her, however.

“Your father was such a loyal and decent man. Quirin would be devastated to see the monster that you have become.” The Captain spoke to him sternly. “And that is why you murdered him, and why you must be punished.”

In the first few weeks, Varian could have been cowed by such words, even reduced to mournful tears. Now, whenever they tried to wield his father’s memory against him like a weapon, he just seethed.

“Come along.” The Captain commanded again. He griped Varian’s arm tightly, pulling him along.

“Don’t feel bad, Newbie.” Varian snarked over his shoulder where he figured she would be following behind. “It’s no big deal to smack me around a bit. Everyone does it. All the other prisoners are so big and scary, so it makes sense to take out all your frustration on the defenseless 14-year-old.”

“As if you aren’t the scariest one of all,” one of the other guards from their little procession muttered under his breath.

Varian pretended he did not hear the man.

“The Captain here is just uptight right now. You see, his daughter recently left because she hates him.” The grip tightened around the arm he was being pulled along by.

“Oh, that grip.” Varian continued with a saccharine tone, barely faking innocence. “Sorry, I thought we were talking about each other’s families, Captain.”

But now that he got a reaction, Varian would push further.

“She used to cry about how much he hated and distrusted her...”

Nothing. No response. Just kept them moving.

“He tried to send her away to a convent, he hated her so much…”

Still nothing.

“She also cried when I nearly squeezed the life out of her...” He let his voice dip lower. “All because Papa dearest couldn’t do his one job.”

Hm. He thought that one would do it, for sure.

Once again Varian was briefly struck by a familiar feeling of: 'Perhaps I'm going too far here.' But, as usual, he quickly pushed it aside.

Means to ends and all that.

“I wonder how much she’ll cry when she finds out she’s not even really his.”

Bingo.

A fully plated fist collided expertly under his chin knocking his head back. Varian didn’t even stumble at this one, simply totally knocked onto his back. The sweet merciful blackness crept in over his vision, and he felt himself start to fade…

Then, unwelcomed, a set of hands shook him, trying to force him to wake up. A sweet but sharp smell invaded his nostrils as well, giving his once flagging consciousness something to latch on to.

No! Varian thought distantly. Let me go!

But it was too late, the dim light had come rushing back to him along with his sense of awareness, until he was, unfortunately, fully conscious once again.

Who brings smelling salts to a prisoner transport?

“See, newbie?” He ground out trying to hide his frustration and lingering disorientation. “Even the Captain indulges now and again.”

“Forgive me,” the Captain said, clearly directed at the other guards and not Varian. “As you can see, the prisoner will do almost anything to try to escape his punishment.”

Even leveraging a man’s family secret against him. Went unsaid.

After meeting the Captain for the first time, Varian immediately suspected that Cassandra was adopted. The two looked nothing alike in build or coloring, and while the Captain looked like a homegrown Coronan, Cassandra had a distinctly Bayangoran appearance. It was so obvious to him that he was surprised that none of the others seemed aware.

Varian remembered feeling no small sense of admiration for the Captain at the time, bringing a little girl into his family and raising her as his own, all alone.

But that was a lifetime ago.

It was possible that Cassandra simply took after her mother, but it was pretty unlikely. ‘Unlikely’ shifted to ‘impossible’ when Varian snarled his theory through prison bars one evening, only to see the expression of horror cross the Captain’s face. The following quick punch to the gut only cemented it.

Varian didn’t even remember what the Captain had said to him to make him lash out that time. Something about his father, most likely.

A booted foot prodded Varian’s side where he had remained on the ground. “Get up. We’re going to be late.”

Varian didn’t speak or move, simply relaxed his muscles.

“If you make us drag you, it will be much worse for you. We will not release you from your bonds when you get back to your cell and leave you at the mercy of that Sunforsaken madman you are locked up with.” The Captain threatened.

Varian snorted. “You people always do that anyway. No matter what I do.” The Captain made a slightly frustrated ‘hm’ and grabbed the boy's arm again. Another guard grabbed the other and the next thing Varian knew, he was being dragged.

Varian regretted his choice immediately. Being dragged around was uncomfortable and humiliating.

But he’d already committed.

They always had to drag him the final leg of the journey anyway, so what difference would a few more minutes make?

They passed through the corridors in silence.

Minutes passed. The silence stretched on. The only sounds Varian heard were the clanking of armor, the footfalls on stone floors, and his heart rate speeding up.

Finally, they reached the threshold that stood between the lower levels of the castle and the courtyard. Varian could feel the fresh air of the outside, and the hot Sunlight on his skin.

He stiffened up. His every muscle tensed.

“Please no…” He said futilely as he tried not to let his voice quiver. “Please, please, please! I’ll be good!”

More panic flooded through him. He tried to wriggle out of their grips. Those grips only tightened in response.

“I’m sorry Captain! I never wanted to hurt her! I swear it by the Sun! I just said all that, so you’d stop! Please! I’m so so sorry!”

“I know, boy, but there’s no avoiding this,” he responded with a stern voice. “You need to see the fate that awaits you if you continue on in this way.”

“Nononono—!” his legs kicked on the floor trying to resist the dragging.

“Shut up already!” The other guard holding him snapped. He and the Captain lifted him off the ground, so he was being fully carried. Varian shook like a leaf. More than he did when he sprinted through the biggest blizzard in centuries. His breathing was coming out fast and hard and he could hear the blood rushing inside his ear.

Finally, they arrived at their destination. The two guards held him in place on his feet. “Please I can’t—” his voice broke midsentence. “Please don’t make me…”

The bag was yanked off Varian’s head and he had a few merciful moments where all he could do was blink against the harsh blinding Sunlight. They were standing on the stones of one of the less busy, less used courtyards surrounding the castle. The Captain and the other guard still held him by his arms and shoulders, and the other two stood at attention behind him.

In the courtyard, there was a small crowd amassed. At least another dozen guards and blessedly only four people standing at attention in a line. Like Varian, they were shackled up tight, though they still had bags on their heads.

And at the center of the courtyard, the tall looming gallows stood, casting a shadow in the afternoon sunlight.

Varian gave a pathetic whimper, then cursed himself for his weakness.

This won’t be forever. He tried to comfort himself. Eventually someone high enough up would need something from him, an ancient scroll translated, a life-saving invention, or even weapons.

Something was read out by the black-hooded man and one of the waiting prisoners was dragged up onto the platform.

…Or maybe in a few years, the princess will give her consent to have him executed and it would finally be his turn up there on the platform.

“This doesn’t seem right,” the new guard whispered to the other, probably assuming no one could hear her.

“Look…” The other guard whispered back. “You gotta understand; this is the only thing that gets through to him. Shouting, shaming, and beatings don’t work anymore. Solitary is banned. And you should just see him when he leaves here. He’s meek as a lamb. And he’ll be like that for the rest of the day and tomorrow too, maybe even a few days if we’re lucky.”

"What’s he being punished for?" The new guard asked. "Is all this really just for writing on his walls?"

“Not sure. That, or maybe this is just part of his sentence. You’d have to ask the king directly.”

The Captain cleared his throat sharply. The two stopped speaking. And once again, Varian had nothing to distract from the gallows in front of him.

Varian caught that the sentence was for some kind of granary theft.

He missed the name of the man on the platform. He felt guilt for that, trying to distract himself from this human being’s final moments.

He was older, this one. He had a bit of gray hair about his temples, tanned, with a few knife scars on his face. What most stood out to Varian was the laugh lines on the man’s face. He was a larger man too. In more ways than one, the doomed soul up on the platform reminded Varian of his father.

“—and return to eternal Sunshine.” The holy man on the platform finished his prayer.

The rope was placed around the large man’s neck.

The rope was tightened so it would not slip.

The man said something to himself that Varian could not hear.

The man closed his eyes.

The lever was pulled.

The man fell.

Varian heard as the platform fell, the rope went taught, and the man’s neck broke.

Varian felt bile rise in his throat, he felt his head go light and his knees buckle. Something at his shoulders did not allow him to fall to the ground.

Varian was dimly aware of the hands on him, keeping him in place. Everything in the world seemed to disappear and the only thing he could still see was the man's slack face in the bright sunlight.

Chapter Text

The bright sun was setting in the sky as Hector navigated southward. The sun felt like it was too close to the earth in this place, too hot, too bright. He’d yet to break from the tree line that he had been cautiously sticking to. He had been able to easily scale the border wall around the sunshine kingdom without being spotted.

Hector had scoffed to himself as he did it. As a man who had spent most his life guarding the border to his kingdom, he found Corona’s negligence pitiful.

“Then again, Corona doesn’t have our mountains, forming natural barriers around our borders like home has.” Hector spoke aloud. He directed the comment to one of his companions, a bearcat named Bil. She responded by simply rubbing up against his leg until he scratched her behind the ear as she liked. Her brother Hjúki was several meters ahead, impatiently waiting for them to catch up.

The group continued picking their way down southward.

Even from his location, having just crossed over the border wall, the castle was in clear view. It cast an enormous dark shadow across the farmlands, as the sun set behind it.

“Castle Umbra back at home is probably taller, but not as sprawling nor as… ostentatious,” Hector told his companions. “With high towers so we can see out far over the surrounding lands.”

Hector’s former home, located at the heart of the forsaken kingdom, and its surrounding capital city was not nearly so large as the one he saw gleaming on the island before him. Though there were several other large urban centers throughout the kingdom of Selene.

Or at least at one time there were…

Corona, on the other hand, had consolidated its large capital city as well as its castle on a single island connected to its few outer lands by only a few entry points.

“No wonder the guards are so complacent,” he said with derision. “A lot of over-confidence can come from defending an island station.” He explained to the bearcat seriously.

“Most chumps think you just gotta keep an eye out over the water and those few access points to the mainland.”

Hjúki was seemingly ignoring his voice and continuing to head southward. Bil tilted her head in confusion and let out a small snort but still kept pace with Hector.

However, Hector would wager a fat purse that there was a huge underground world of people moving in and out of the city either by land or sea. Corona was considered a pretty soft port for smuggling, if he recalled correctly. And he had just personally experienced how porous their northern land border was.

He was struck by how easy it would be for an enemy to take aggressive actions against this nation.

“With the weak border and most people and power consolidated in the island capital, any potential invader would simply attack the farmlands-the breadbasket of this nation.” He explained to Bil.

“Cutting the Capital off from their main source of food and resources would be a simple matter. From there, they'd have to rely on their ports and nearly all six of the other nations on this continent can manage a simple ship blockade.”

Hector shook his head to clear the siege plans away. “No wonder so much is said about Coronan diplomacy.”

You’re not defending your homeland anymore. And even if you were, this place is a far cry from home.

And it was true, his home was different from this sunshine place in nearly every way.

Hector had left his white rhinoceros, Nótt, a few miles from the border wall. It seemed that the people of Corona exclusively used horses as their beasts of burden. And his own preferred mount would draw too much attention.

Despite this, he couldn't bring himself to leave behind his two loyal Bearcats.

Usually, Hector would never have abandoned his post and ventured this far away from his home, much less this far west.

Unfortunately, this was the place his older brother had chosen to make his home after he deserted their homeland.

He didn't have much to go on, but he knew that Quirin had settled down and chosen a simpler life in a town called Old Corona. Hector was fuzzy on some of the other details. He couldn’t remember if Quirin had settled there before or after the man’s wife passed, or if he had been a village headman or a farmer. But what he did remember clearly was that the place was called ‘Old Corona.’

So, imagine his shock, when several months back, he had first heard the rumors about an event called the “Battle of Old Corona.”

Hector immediately sent a letter to check up on his brother, as he did from time to time. The weeks stretched on into months, and he never received any kind of reply. That’s when Hector decided to pack up and check on things personally.

Hector crested the final ridge that gave him a view of the town known as Old Corona. He had been navigating with an old map that he had acquired from some town along his journey. But when he came to the town labeled ‘Old Corona,’ he immediately knew that he would not find his brother here.

The sight was both familiar and devastating.

Black adamantine rocks had razed the town and surrounding fields. He saw homes and businesses totally crumbled, he saw the carts of merchants completely upended, full-grown trees uprooted, and fertile fields ravaged.

It took Hector a moment to control his breathing. The sight was all too tragically familiar from back home, especially near the end.

His heart ached for his older brother. Quirin fled thousands of miles away from the Moonstone only to have the miserable curse follow him to his new home. Hector had seen far too many lives destroyed by these blasted things and he had always felt so powerless to do anything about them.

But intermixed with the destruction caused by the black rocks, there was destruction of another kind.

Metal and mechanical parts also littered the landscape. Mostly caught up in the spikes of the black adamantine and seemingly partially cleared away.

He didn’t even have to approach the town and walk through its ruined cobblestone streets to see that the town was abandoned. He thought he made out the sight of a small animal skittering across the path but that was the only sign of life he could see.

He reasoned that if the town had been abandoned, then her citizens would have moved on somewhere else. Hector picked his way around the town and made his way to the closest neighboring settlement. It appeared the residents of the destroyed village had simply up and moved to a neighboring location where they could rebuild.

It was here that Hector spotted the first people he had seen in Corona outside of the border guards.

Even as the sun was setting, people were still bustling about the small settlement. Moving around harvested crops, working on the newly erected buildings, or just milling about and socializing. He even spotted children playing along the outskirts, near the river.

Hector looked around from his high vantage point until he spied what he was looking for: a tavern in the center of the settlement.

Hector ordered Hjúki and Bil to stay close to the woods. He knew he was going to be attracting a good amount of attention simply by being a stranger in these lands.

Hector thanked the Moon for his timing. He just so happened to have arrived in Corona as the evening was approaching and people were settling in from their work. Hiking in from the fields of straw and stover.

More and more people were heading towards the tavern at the heart of the settlement.

Hector did indeed draw suspicious glances from some of the residents, but many more greeted him with welcoming smiles.

A strange sensation, to be sure.

Hector had tried to avoid civilization as much as possible in his travels, and whenever he did enter a town or hamlet, he was often treated with suspicion.

Corona was different, it seemed.

He entered the provisional-looking building that was acting as the tavern.

There were near thirty people in the building. Families and groups of friends mostly gathered around the long table at the center of the floor. Lone patrons were sitting about the bar. Most of the people appeared to be the farming residents and merchants, two men in polished golden armor mingling with the other residents.

He took a seat at the long bar that appeared to be made of several doors screwed together propped up on top of old whiskey barrels.

Once again, Hector was surprised at the friendliness of Coronans. From behind the makeshift bar a man with short-cropped blond hair, wearing simple laborers clothes favored him with a warm smile.

“Welcome, friend!” he greeted him kindly. “What can I do for you, this evening?”

Hector ordered a drink and a simple meal and paid the man, who nodded dutifully, poured him his drink, and hurried off.

“Haven’t seen you in New Old Corona before,” said an old hunched over farmer near him at the bar. He was short with dark hair and a thick mustache. He straightened up as he spoke. Hector suppressed his cringe at the ensuing cracks and pops as the old farmer straightened up his back. “And you don’t look like the normal sort of merchant we get ‘round harvest time.”

“No. I’m not here for the harvest.” Hector answered. He hoped he came off as friendly and not off-putting. He typically disliked talking with other people, especially in unfamiliar places. But he knew how these things worked. To get information, you had to give information.

“I come from far away. I’m here looking for someone.”

“You a bounty hunter?” The farmer eyed him suspiciously.

“No. My brother hasn’t answered my letters in a few months, and I fear the worst.”

The farmer nodded. “Lots of people scattered when the black rocks came. Postage has always been hit-or-miss in Old Corona, but after the relocation, it’s been an absolute nightmare. All rerouted through the capital, see? Can’t rely on the capital for nothing.”

“Hey!” Another man at the bar protested. Hector had clocked him and his friend when he had first entered. They both wore shining golden armor with suns emblazoned on them. Guards of the kingdom no doubt.

“Except for competent defense and law enforcement, of course.” The man amended amicably as he toasted to the guards. The guards smiled and lifted their own flagons returning the salute.

“Things look pretty lively out here,” Hector commented casually. “Seems like it’ll be a successful harvest despite everything.”

“Yep. We were pretty lucky,” the man nodded. “Our leader was able to negotiate our relocation before the worst of the black rocks, and battle.”

“Because of the adamanti- Er, black rocks?” Hector corrected himself.

“Yep.” The farmer responded sadly.

“The black rocks are a new phenomenon here in Corona, but I’ve seen many people lose their livelihoods to the curse back in my homeland. Not everyone can recover so well.” Hector complimented, trying to raise the man’s spirits.

“It’s hard work,” the farmer agreed. “And every year it seems like it gets harder. Especially on the back.”

“You ought to see a healer about that.” Hector commented as he took a long draw from his flagon.

The farmer let out a wry chuckle. “The closest thing our village had to a healer went mad and is locked up in the dungeons.” The farmer explained.

“The wizard, right?” Hector had heard few details of the Battle of Old Corona, but one detail that was clear is that the leader of the coup was a man called the “Dark Wizard of Old Corona.”

“Yep. Granted, he couldn’t do much. And the danger of living around him well outweighed the benefits. But at least it was something. Made a decent willow bark salve at the very least.”

Hector hummed.

“What exactly happened here?” He finally asked the man. “Word of the ‘Battle of Old Corona’ has traveled far and wide, even reaching me in the far northeast.”

“It’s a long story.” The farmer warned. He didn’t seem at all surprised to be asked about it. Hector wouldn’t be surprised if the people of the town had to retell the tale every time someone new blew through town.

“Still. I’d like to hear it,” Hector prompted.

“It all started when the Dark Wizard unleashed the black rocks on Corona.” One of the guards sitting beside the farmer started the tale.

“No, no, no,” the farmer interceded. “The black rocks were what drove him crazy.”

“That’s not what I heard,” the second guard spoke up.

“Then you heard wrong,” the farmer insisted.

“But he did make the great blizzard,” the first guard said.

“No, he didn’t,” the farmer argued again. “He made the earthquakes.”

“That’s right,” the second guard agreed. “Xavier, the blacksmith, said the blizzard was caused by Zhan Tiri.”

Hector was somewhat surprised to hear that the Coronans also had legends of the trickster demon but said nothing as they continued the story.

“Regardless, on the night of the great blizzard, the wizard traveled to the capital and attacked the princess in the castle.” The first guard continued.

“We were sent to subdue him. Word was he had an item of great power in his home somewhere, so some of us were sent to capture him, find the item, and keep everyone else out. No matter what it took,” the second guard explained.

The wizard must have been quite formidable to warrant that kind of response.

“That was before he reached the height of his power, too. I got a few good hits in, back before he went mad,” the first guard boasted.

“Well, I fought him at the battle itself,” the second guard challenged.

“Yeah, and how’d that go for you?” The farmer teased.

“Anyway,” the first guard continued looking a bit abashed. “The Princess Rapunzel, and her friends all snuck into the wizard’s home and took the item. After that, King Fredrick called us back for preparations for the princess’s birthday."

That gave Hector pause. He could not imagine the late King Horace compromising kingdom security for Prince Edmond’s birthday.

Or even King Edmond. Edmond forwent a great feast and tourney celebrating the birth of his son when word reached them that the Moonstone plague had ravaged Grimaldi City. He'd spent all celebratory expenses on the relief effort.

All that to say, it surprised him to hear the princess’s birthday party would still be going on when the farmlands were falling to ruin.

“The Captain of the guard argued that we needed to continue staking out the wizard’s home, but the King disagreed. Old Corona was all but uninhabitable at the time, all her citizens had moved here to New Old Corona. And the King seemed confident we’d get him eventually. He was still wanted for attacking the princess, after all.”

“Then, he dosed us all with truth serum!” The guard announced dramatically.

“Everyone in the castle?” The farmer asked the two guards.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wow,” the farmer said mockingly.

“What?” Hector asked for clarification.

“His method of dispersing the serum was a batch of purple cookies,” he explained smirking.

“Wow.” Hector echoed the farmer.

“Hey! The wanted posters for him hadn’t circulated yet, and I hadn’t been on the team sent to subdue him! I had no way of knowing.” The guard defended himself.

“And I got one of the cookies from a friend, not from the source.” The other guard looked embarrassed.

“Still, the fact that a sizable chunk of the castle staff unquestioningly took unusual food from a total stranger…” Hector trailed off bewildered by the naiveté. He once again reminded himself, that this was not his land and abysmal castle security was not his problem.

“Welcome to Corona.” The farmer joked.

“He could be quite charming when he wanted to be.” The first guard argued weakly. “But you are right. It was not our proudest moment.”

“As you could imagine, this caused a lot of confusion and chaos,” the second guard carried on. “He used the confusion to sneak into the royal vault.”

“I heard that he tricked the princess into helping him too,” the farmer added.

“Pretty sure he threatened her,” the guard corrected. “Why would she help the guy who attacked her a few weeks before?”

“What did he take?” Hector asked before they could get off topic debating the details again.

“Not sure,” one of the guards shrugged. “I think it was some kind of spell component.”

“The King said it was top secret,” the other guard added.

“He typically didn’t need fancy items for his magic,” the farmer chipped in. “Had a talent for making pandemonium out of mundane trash, he did.”

“So, he stole something from the royal vault. What next?” Hector prompted.

“Then, he tried to kidnap the princess!” The farmer proclaimed.

“No, no, that was the insidious part,” the guard cut in. “The first 'kidnapping attempt' was a ruse.”

“It was?” The farmer asked.

“It was?” The other guard echoed.

“Oh yes. Think about it. He had an army of automatons, a mutant monster, and a giant robot he could operate all at his disposal at that point, right? So why would he send only one automaton to kidnap the princess?”

“No idea. Maybe it would have been too hard to smuggle all of them into the castle?”

“Nope, he knew King Fredrick was paranoid about his daughter. So, he basically forced him to put most of us on princess duty. Then, the night arrives, a mutant monster is seemingly attacking the castle near the princess, His Majesty sends even more of us to that part of the keep, and the Queen is all but unguarded.”

“Oh wow,” the farmer seemed impressed. “That is diabolical.”

“Glad he’s rotting in the dungeon,” the other guard added seeming spooked.

“Yep,” the guard turned back to Hector. “So, he smuggles in an automaton, then a giant mutant monster, and in the wake of all the chaos, he snatches up the Queen.”

“Sounds like an enormous oversight on your King’s part.” Hector commented wryly. He couldn’t imagine King Edmond leaving his wife unguarded under any circumstances. Even if he did, Adira would never have allowed it.

“Yeah well, can you blame him?” The guard shrugged. “So anyway, he holds her hostage and demands the princess go to his lair to get her back.”

“So of course, we all bravely mounted up and rode into fight him head-on!” the guard said triumphantly.

“Call that brave? You people didn’t have to live with him for fourteen years,” the farmer snarked.

“Live with who?” The bartender interrupted as he returned with Hector’s food.

“The wizard,” the guards explained. “The stranger wanted to hear the story of the Battle of Old Corona.”

The bartender frowned. “I see. Yes, it could be dangerous at times.”

“So, who fought alongside this wizard?” Hector asked between bites of his dinner. “A battle has two sides. Were their other residents of Old Corona in the coup?”

“No way!” The farmer insisted. “He was all alone. These bucket heads got their worlds rocked by one guy.” He switched to a mocking tone.

The two guards made offended noises and began to make excuses to the farmer who simply continued the mocking.

“That’s right...” The bartender said past the bickering. “He was all alone. Had been since the storm. And didn’t have to be.” His voice was solemn as he wiped down the surface of the bar.

The two guards looked confused by the comment, but the farmer’s gaze fell to the drink in his hand.

“Aye. Things might‘ve been different if he hadn’t been.”

The two guards finished telling the tale. Something about the princess doing some kind of magic that destroyed all the robots and defeated the wizard. This transitioned to a discussion about how much they adored the princess and how dearly missed she would be in the upcoming fall festivals. Hector had stopped listening and instead focused on his own food and the solemn bartender, as well as the farmer who had also fallen quiet.

“And now she’s off on the road,” the guard said with pride. “The Captain’s girl won’t let anything happen to her. And that Eugene fellow is no slouch either. They are off to find the source of the black rocks.”

Hector choked on his drink. “She’s WHAT!?”

All four men at the bar recoiled at the sudden outburst.

“Yes sir, she’s following the trail back to them.”

This changed things.

Hector needed to move up his timetable.

“Have any of you ever met a man-” Quirin of The Dark Brotherhood, Sword of Midnight, of the Kingdom of Selene.

The words died on his lips.

No. Their home was long forsaken. These men would not know it by that name or the meaning of any of those titles.

These men might even believe the 'Dark Kingdom' is a myth.

“Have any of you ever met a man named Quirin of The Dark Kingdom?”

The two guards shook their heads. But the farmer and the bartender exchanged a meaningful look.

“How did you know Quirin?” The farmer asked with a slightly pained expression on his face.

“He’s my brother.” Hector answered simply. His stomach sank at the farmer's use of the past tense.

The bartender and the farmer exchanged another look, the farmer looking alarmed.

The bartender looked at the three and tilted his head slightly. One of the guards nodded his head and got up from the bar and the farmer grabbed the arm of the other guard and lead him away as well.

The bartender sighed and took off his apron. “You’d better come with me.”

Hector left his meal half-eaten and followed the man out into the night.

“He never mentioned a brother.” The bartender said as he led them towards the outskirts of the settlement where Hector had come from.

“He was trying to start a new life.” Hector answered. “How did you know him?” he cringed at himself as he also began speaking of Quirin in the past tense.

“Everyone knew him. He was the head of the village.”

“Is he dead?” Hector asked plainly. He looked right at the man.

The bartender met his eyes and nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said sadly. “He was a great man. He didn’t deserve any of it.”

“How did it happen? Where is he buried?” Hector heard his own voice ask the man. It seemed there was a part of his mind working rationally as the other part spiraled into shock and grief. He was also dimly aware of the man leading him away from the settlement back where the ruined city stood.

Hector had prepared for this possibility. He had heard the news of the great battle and then when he didn’t get the reply, he had prepared himself for the worst. But still, hearing it said out loud, in no uncertain terms was overwhelming.

“I-I can’t explain it. Never seen anything like it,” the man said. “It was the wizard’s doing. But I have no clue what it was he did, or why he even would.”

“The wizard?” Hector asked.

“Yes. But…look it wasn’t all like what those guys were saying. But I think you need to see it all for yourself. You have a map, right?”

“Right here.” Hector answered, holding it out for the man.

“This building right here,” the man said marking the map. “The large building in the north of the town. He’s there.”

“Why was he buried there?” Hector asked in confusion.

“He wasn’t. We couldn’t.” He looked away in shame.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain. And I can’t go with you, I—I fear the curse could take me. I have a family. I’m sorry I just can’t.”

Hector nodded.

“Take all the time you need.” The man said with soft sympathy. “Afterwards, if you like, you can come back to the tavern and stay the night with me and mine. I’ll be able to better answer your questions once you’ve seen him.”

“I understand,” Hector said straightening his back. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me this.” he said as he pocketed the map and turned away. “May you always walk in Shade and Shadow.”

Hector walked away from the kind villager. He gave a sharp whistle and Hjúki and Bil came bounding over.

My brother is dead. My brother is dead. He repeated in his mind over and over again. Hector was skilled at compartmentalizing. One had to be in his line of work.

The real struggle was with the bitter regret.

All these years wasted- No not wasted, spent in proud service of your king.

I could have made the journey down to see Quirin every few years- And abandoned your post?

I could have written more letters to keep in touch- Conversed with a traitor?

Hector’s heart was in conflict. He had never doubted his decision to remain in the Great Tree guarding his kingdom until today. Long long-ago Hector followed his King’s example and chose duty over family.

And now here he was, decades later, mourning his family and resenting his duty for keeping him away.

Hector shook off such traitorous thoughts and focused on the journey back to Old Corona.

Hector approached the partially destroyed structure in the north of the town. The home had a massive hole in the front of it, probably where some of those automatons he had been told of had broken in.

Something about the scene felt off, but Hector quickly pushed past the thought and continued on.

The first thing that struck him was simply how large the home was. Hector knew the defensive purpose for such a fortress in these vulnerable outlying villages, but he still would have liked to have teased his brother about the excess of it.

He imagined what a nice life Quirin must have had here. Large secure home, surrounded by a steady stream, it bordered an apple orchard and more derelict fields.

The door and doorway were still intact. A royal decree of eminent domain condemning the building was nailed on the wood surface. Hector barely paid it any mind.

His hand rested on the handle.

Hector was taken back.

——————☽☉☾——————

Instead of a gauntleted hand on a shiny brass knob, he remembered a trembling hand rest on a worn wooden knob just below eyelevel.

He was overcome by a wave of dread. He didn’t want to open the door. He didn’t want to see what lay inside.

The house was silent. Everything around him was so still. It had been alive and bustling only a short while ago.

The silence and emptiness in was so loud it rang in his ears.

Just go in.

He took a breath of the putrid air—

He knew that what he saw inside would change him forever. His bare feet were cold in the snow and a sharp wind cut through his clothes. Just go in. It will be better to know for sure. To see for yourself.

But you won’t be able to unsee. This place isn’t yours anymore. They took it.

The door opened and he pushed inside.

——————☽⬤☾——————

Hector’s hand dropped from the handle. His fists clenched and unclenched a few times. He took a few deep breaths. Hector chastised himself. Of course, one brush with grief and he’s suddenly twelve years old again.

Well, no more. He’d failed back then, but he wouldn’t fail now.

With one last deep breath, Hector entered the structure and searched around. He was struck by how well preserved the space was. He thought that looters would have picked this place clean. But it seemed that whatever curse the villager had spoken of had kept them away.

He picked through the broken remains of his brother’s new life.

For the most part, he found normal household items. Although many things were thrown about and ruined.

Hector swallowed down his regret again as he found himself wishing he could have seen his brother’s home before it was destroyed.

He moved on into the bedroom and found a slightly more intact scene. Hector was relieved to see tangible evidence that this was his brother’s home. The bedsheets still faintly smelled of the man and a portrait with his brother and his late wife had fallen to the floor, half-hidden behind a pile of rubble. There were small wood crafts here and there. Quirin used to whittle away at pieces of wood on slow rainy days back at home. It seemed that the man had become quite skilled at it.

One thing that Hector realized with alarm, was the signs of the presence of another in the home. Strange glassware was strewn about the dwelling, as well as mechanical parts and pieces. There were technical diagrams posted up on the walls and more books than he had ever seen his brother read in his whole life.

A squatter? Seemed unlikely. Given the way the villagers seemed so scared of this place.

“Those might have been Ulla’s.” He briefly considered. But there were also items of clothing that clearly didn’t belong to his brother, nor his late wife.

There was another large room in the keep. Hector pushed the door open and heard even more broken glass scrape across the floor.

Hector was distracted by the sound, but when he looked up to examine the room he froze.

There in the center of the room was a huge amber pillar towering up from the chaos of the surrounding area.

And inside the amber pillar, Quirin was trapped.

It took a moment for Hector’s mind to even process what he was seeing.

He had to draw nearer to get a better look.

But there he was, older, tanner, dressed in simpler clothes, but still indisputably Quirin. He had a pained look on his face and was desperately clutching a piece of paper in a raised hand.

Hector flipped the switch in his glove that caused his sword to pop out from his gauntlet. He reeled back and swung the blade at the crystal as hard as he could. Hector cried out as it made a loud impact on the amber. His arm ached at the ringing recoil as the blade bounced right back off.

For all the good it did. He might as well have struck a mountainside.

Hector still tried again and again.

There was a heavy metal drill off to the side of the pillar. It took almost all Hector’s strength to lift it above his head. He heaved the heavy metal contraption with all his might, and it impacted heavily on the pillar and then on the ground. The stone floor cracked and crumbled at the impact, but the pillar remained perfectly unscathed.

He howled in frustration and pain as he withdrew his blade. Hjúki and Bil were watching with concern from the doorway of the room.

Hector was breathing hard. His entire arm was stinging in pain. And there were tears in his eyes.

He rested his forehead against the cold amber and tried to imagine it was Quirin’s warm chest, rising and falling with his gentle breathing.

“It’s no use. My brother is dead.” He finally spoke out into the silent room. He distantly realized tears were running down his face.

For the first time in a long time, Hector had no idea what to do next.

It didn’t feel real. Quirin was so strong. So impossibly driven, steadfast, and sure. This shouldn’t be possible. How could someone like Quirin be killed in such a way? This shouldn’t be possible. He was once the mightiest warrior in Selene. He held the highest religious office in the land. He was the Sword of Midnight of the Dark Brotherhood. If anyone should have been guided by Starlight more than any other man-

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Hjúki and Bil seemed to get the nerve to enter the room. They began to sniff and poke around. Hector took the cue from them and examined his surroundings as well.

More of that glassware filled with strange concoctions littered nearly all the surfaces of the room. Hector picked up one with a glowing grey color to examine it closer. Hector briefly wondered if his brother had taken up his late wife’s knack for chemicals or if he had been shacking up with the local apothecary.

Although, if the men at the bar were to be believed, the only person in the village with such savvy was the dark wizard-

The vial shattered in Hector’s grip.

He threw the pieces down on the ground and stalked past Hjúki and Bil, back out into the main room.

That’s what felt off.

Hector couldn’t believe he didn’t realize it upon approach.

Nearly all the rubble was on the outside of the house.

Whatever had caused the giant hole had come from inside the house.

The wizard had been operating from inside Quirin’s house.

Past all the outrage, Hector felt disturbed and sick at the thought.

This wizard had killed his brother then commandeered his house. He had moved about the place, ate his brother’s food, slept in his brother’s bed. Meanwhile, he built his weapons, plotted his coup, all while his murder victim was trapped there, suspended in the crystal.

Hector’s fists tightened again, and a growl tore from his throat.

He knew exactly what he was going to do next: He was going to kill the wizard of Old Corona.

Hector called out to his bearcats and began the journey to the castle.

The sun had completely set by this point. The evening air was cool, but Hector paid it no mind. He approached the castle with a single-minded determination.

The three of them made it a few minutes before Bil stopped to investigate a cluster of black rocks. She made a whining noise in the back of her throat that caught Hector’s attention. He went over to investigate and saw what the matter was.

There, in the center of the cluster, one had been sliced clean in half. There was only one person in the entire world who could do that.

“Adira.” He growled.

So, she had been there, too. She had been there! Did she see their brother? Did she pray to the Moon for the passage of his soul? Did she try to use her shadow blade on the amber? And yet the wizard still lived! Did she even know about their brother? Did she even care? Did she know what he had done to him? Or was she still too busy chasing her fairytales?

Hector felt another layer of anger added to the storm inside of him. She didn’t even have the basic decency to do right by their fallen brother. Hector picked up the sliced piece of the black rock and stored it away in his pack.

Was he doing right by his brother, though?

Hector looked up at the night sky. The Moon was full and shining down bathing the countryside in her gentle silver light, and the Stars shone same as always.

He wondered if Quirin had prayed under these same Stars all these years…

He knew that Quirin wasn’t the type to seek vengeance. He’d probably rather have a proper burial in his beloved small town.

Quirin deserved to be honored, had Selene not been forsaken, his funeral would have been attended by every lord and lady in Selene.

Hector’s plan shifted again.

He won’t fail Quirin as Adira had. He’d force the wizard to release Quirin’s body. He’d give him a proper burial. Read him the Last Lunar Rites. Lay him to rest in the Moonlight.

Then, he’d kill the wizard slowly.

Hector’s eyes locked on the castle before him. It was all lit up against the night sky.

A few hours later and Hector was descending into the dungeons of Corona.

Once again, Hector had to shake his head at the poor security of the Coronan capital. They were just lucky that he had no interest in venturing upwards towards the royal chambers. If he were an assassin…

Hector reminded himself to stay on task.

He had easily tossed the gate guards into the mote, scaled the walls of the castle, dodged past the interior guards, threatened a handmaiden at sword point for directions. So long as he stayed silent and in the shadows, he could get by with ease. He knew he didn’t have too much longer before the entire castle went on high alert. So, he made quick work of the single dungeon guard.

Hector stalked down to the cell's at the very end of the dungeon. Most prisoners didn’t stir from their cots, and those who did seemed to opt to stay silent and try not to attract his attention.

The guard posted at the door groaned in pain behind him. That, and Hector’s own footfalls were the only sounds ringing out in the dark.

Finally, Hector arrived at the final cell at the end of the block. Hector lifted the torch in his hand and peered inside.

A shirtless man appeared at the bars of the cell. He was tall and well-built with long hair. The man ran his eyes up and down Hector’s form taking in his features. Unlike the other residents of the dungeon, he did not seem at all bothered by the late hour.

“How can I help you, stranger?” The man behind the bars asked. His voice held no evidence of sleep and kept a calm confident tone.

“Are you the wizard?” Hector asked sharply. The man at the bars straightened up at the question and examined Hector more closely.

“You are not of Corona, right?” He said eyes narrowed, standing up straight. “Look, I’ve already got a lot invested in the guy. He’s so close to joining my cause. If you are looking to use him for your own purposes, you’re gonna have to take a number.”

“So, you are not the wizard of Old Corona?” Hector asked irritated that his question had been ignored.

“I’m Andrew of Saporia. I can see you are also an enemy of Corona, what with the moon symbology and attacking the guards.” The man said gesturing to the clasp on his cloak and then the felled man behind him.

“Free us both, and the rest of the Saporians unjustly held in this prison, and we’ll get him broken down and built back up to be the perfect weapon of this blasted nation’s destruction.”

This was the single most unproductive conversation Hector had ever engaged in.

“I have no quarrel with this nation. It could burn or prosper, and I would not give it a second thought.” Hector ground out. “This is a purely personal matter.”

“Personal?” The man at the bars looked confused. “No one died in the Battle of Old Corona. Even old Fredrick could never get him on murder charges. Not that there was ever a trial. This wretched nation...”

The fact that they were no longer speaking past one another was an improvement, but the comment made Hector’s blood boil. Hector engaged the switch in his gauntlet to cause his blade to pop out.

“My brother is dead!” He shouted. “In his own home! A clear result of the wizard’s dark spell! It was right there in the heart of the battle of Old Corona!” Hector’s voice echoed loud throughout the stone dungeon.

Other prisoners stirred around them at the sound of his shout.

The man at the bars seemed to second guess himself. He glanced behind himself, then at the blade on Hector’s wrist. He seemed to come to a reluctant decision, face dropping.

“It’s a terrible waste, what you’re doing,” Andrew told him with a defeated tone. “If only you knew what he was capable of. What I could do with him.”

Hector swiftly reached out through the bars and grabbed a chunk of the man’s hair. He yanked his head forward so his face impacted against the bars with a loud clang. The Saporian fell to the ground as Hector released his hair.

“His fate is sealed,” Hector growled as he raised his sword. “What about yours?”

Andrew raised his hands in surrender, struggling back up to his feet. “The keys to all the cells are on the ring on the guard you flattened on the way in. If you get those, I’ll grab the ‘Wizard’.” He said quickly as he wiped at the stream of blood that started to run down his face.

“So much for honor among thieves.” Hector snorted as he retracted his sword, turned on his heel, and walked back towards the guard he had knocked out on his way in.

He still thought it was absurd that only one guard was assigned to dungeon duty at a time. And that he had all the keys.

After he retrieved the keys, he crossed the dungeon again. This time, nearly every prisoner in the place was asking what was going on or calling out to him to release them. Some even dared to reach arms out through the bars of their cells to try to grab at him. Hector simply ignored them as he arrived at the cell at the end of the dungeon once again.

He unlocked the cell and swung the door open.

Hector looked about it briefly.

It was a small space with many alchemical or magical runes and symbols scrawled all over the walls on one side of the room, over a bare, unused straw pallet. On the other side, the walls were blank save for a large etching of the stylized Saporian rose. The cot on this side was rumpled with two threadbare blankets.

Andrew appeared again, this time, dragging along a small figure. The other prisoner was manacled and had a bag draped over his head. He was thin, his clothes were disheveled and hanging off his form, and he didn’t seem to show any sign of being aware of what was going on around him.

The Saporian shoved the small prisoner forward and Hector had to reach out to steady him.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Your ‘wizard’.” The Saporian said. “Doesn’t look like much, huh?”

“Are you the Wizard of Old Corona?” Hector directed the question at the small prisoner.

No response.

“Answer me!” he barked as he shook the small man by the shoulders and waited for any kind of reaction. The small prisoner just stood there impassively.

“What’s the matter with him?” Hector directed the question at Andrew.

“He’s always messed up like this after they punish him,” he answered disdainfully. “Basically catatonic. Don’t expect a lot out of him for a while.”

Hector frowned. Something about that did not sit right with him deep down in his gut.

Without another word, he turned around, dragging the bound prisoner along with him. The wizard’s short legs failed to keep up with Hector’s stride and he stumbled. Hector barely paused in taking up the manacles binding the prisoner’s wrists in front of him and simply dragged him along by them. The bound man didn’t struggle or squirm at all at the rough treatment, simply went slack as he was dragged behind Hector as dead weight.

“Wait!” A red-haired woman called out from her cell. “What are you doing with him? Leave him alone!” She reached out to try to stop him. Her voice betrayed more concern than her hardened criminal appearance would suggest.

“You got the wrong guy.” A dwarf woman called out from her own cell, though she did not have the nerve to reach out through the bars. “He didn’t kill anybody!”

“At least let him wake up and explain himself!” A fine dressed man called out from his cell, also not reaching through.

Hector scoffed and didn’t even break stride.

A large arm managed to catch hold of Hector’s cloak.

Hector was forced to stop and glare at a huge, hulking blond man leaning against the bars of his cell.

“If you won’t hear him out, at least kill him before he awakens from his stupor, so he won’t feel the fear or pain of it.” He growled out, expression furious.

Hector allowed his face to twist into a sneer. He yanked his cloak free and continued to the exit.

He heard, rather than saw the Saporian leave the cell behind him. Trying not to draw too much attention to the fact that he was trying to slip out. Hector exited the dungeon, and sharply yanked his captive through, then he swung the door closed right in the face of the other man trying to exit behind him.

“Hey-!” He objected as Hector flipped through the key ring.

“Oh, come on, don’t be cruel! I only tried to steal a book! Let me through!” Similar sentiments were echoed by the rest of the prisoners behind the man.

Hector found the proper fitting key and turned it in the lock with one hand as he held the door in place with the other. The Saporian was throwing his full body against it at this point and cursing him out.

“The guard! She snuck me in past all the other guards then arrested me! She entrapped me! You Sun-blind fool! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Fortunately, he was able to drop the manacles as he secured the lock, his small captive didn’t even twitch to try to get away, still in his daze. Hector would wonder if he was even conscious, had he not seen him up on his feet a few moments ago.

Once the door was locked, Hector took the manacles back up and turned away from the dungeon’s entrance, letting the shouts of the prisoners fade away behind him.

Chapter Text

The clouds had moved on, and the Moon was nearly full in the sky.

Hector was grateful for the extra light. He had been blessed with impeccable night vision, but he was still unfamiliar with the terrain, as he trekked towards the wrecked town of Old Corona. He had been making good time, especially considering that he was traveling with his two bearcats and dragging an unconscious captive behind him.

The other man had been on his feet hours ago but had been silent and unresponsive ever since.

Hector did not mind this one bit. He feared if the man spoke, his anger would flare, and he would kill his small captive before he even got the chance to complete his purpose.

“Outside…” a dazed voice spoke out.

Hector was surprised to hear it. They had been moving in silence for so long, and it occurred to him that the wizard’s voice was… off. He didn’t sound like a Dark Wizard.

“Astute.” Hector growled out with sarcastic derision.

“I’ll walk,” he offered, voice faint and distant.

“Fine,” Hector paused for a moment while his captive found his feet then continued on at the same pace as before. The chained-up man seemed to struggle to keep up for a moment before he quickly adapted.

“You’re new,” he spoke again, voice still dazed. “I’m outside... Is it finally time?”

Hector said nothing. He was surprised the wizard was able to identify him as a stranger after only two words, he also wasn’t sure what the wizard meant so he waited for clarification.

“What will it be, then?” the wizard continued. “Hanging? Strangulation? Peine forte et dure? Burning? No wait, the Captain always said I’d be broken on the wheel.”

At least he seemed aware that his hours were numbered. Good.

“Thought they’d want a more public venue though?” The man’s voice was clearing up of its initial confusion. “It’s nighttime and we’re in the middle of the woods, by the feel of the ground and the smell of the air.”

Hector growled in warning. He was dimly aware the man would have to be smart to pull off all the destruction. But it was unnerving how astute he was, especially from his current predicament.

“And you’re not a guard… Did Fredrick hire you to off me so he could have deniability?”

“No one’s paying me. This is personal.” Hector informed him icily. “Now shut up and hurry.”

“Ah. An act of revenge for the Queen then? Or maybe the Princess?” he continued, putting on a false confident tone, replacing the confusion from before. “Fair enough, I guess. Though, everyone keeps saying that revenge is wrong. More of those rules for me and not for thee, huh?”

Hector whirled around and harshly yanked the manacles. He grabbed at the column of the prisoner’s neck from where it was concealed under the bag still over his head. Hector squeezed the man’s neck while holding his hands in place with the bindings.

“I said: Shut up.” He growled out a slow warning. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough to do damage, only send a warning.

Damage would come later.

It seemed that his warning was received. A stiff nod was given. Hector dropped his hands from the man’s neck, and they continued on.

Bil approached the man and sniffed at him curiously.

“Wha-” He reacted. “Who’s there?” He flinched away.

“I won’t warn you again!” Hector snapped.

The man nodded and kept following along obediently.

The bearcat sniffed at the stranger again. And to his credit, the small man did not react beyond a flinch. Bil gave a small whine in the back of her throat before she increased her pace and walked along next to Hector again. She nudged at him and bent her neck back to where the prisoner followed.

“I know, but it won’t be long now,” he said softly, scratching behind her ear. Bil did not seem assured and instead fell back, near where the captive walked.

Old Corona came into view and the group approached the destroyed home.

The small man stumbled again as they passed over the stones and debris and up the steps. Hector dragged his captive through the threshold of the home and to the large laboratory room.

Hector felt his blood rise again as the amber pillar came into view.

He ground his teeth and tightened his grip on the chains in his hands.

He would never hear his brother’s voice ever again, and here was his killer calmly walking alongside him. It made Hector sick. His anger flared.

He reached out and savagely grabbed at the small captive, yanked the bag off his head, and shoved him forward with all his strength.

The small man cried out before he fell forward.

Hector felt a sick thrill of satisfaction at the thud of the captive’s head impacting hard on the amber and he cried out again in pain. Hector didn’t give him the chance to register what was happening. He grabbed him up by the front of his clothes and slammed him back into the pillar.

Through the haze of his anger, Hector finally registered the features of the wizard’s face.

This was no grizzled old man, nor man of any kind. This was indisputably a child. Hector’s grip immediately dropped.

Did the other prisoner, Andrew, deceive him?

“You,” he said momentarily doubting himself. “You are the Wizard of Old Corona.” He wasn’t sure if he had meant to put it as a question or accusation. 

It took a few moments for large blue eyes to blink into focus.

“’Been called that,” the boy answered, disoriented. “Not surprised the moniker stuck, given how much I hate it.”

There it was. The confession.

Hector wished that his conflicted feelings would vanish with the boy’s words. But there was a new hesitance there.

Hector had to glance over the boy’s shoulder up at the amber pillar to steel his resolve.

“Well, you won’t have to worry for long.” Hector growled. His hands went from bunched up in the boy’s clothes to his throat.

“So, here’s how this is going to go: You’re going to do one last spell, then I’m going to torture you to death.”

The teen’s hands flew up to where Hector was gripping him.

The wizard looked up at him, Hector clocked the exact moment when he registered Hector’s eyes. He knew how unnerving most found it to be pinned by his glare. His irises an eerie green, and his pupils reflecting light like an animal’s. The combination made them almost appear to be glowing unnaturally, in the dark.

There was a look of fear and panic on his face, before it transitioned into anger, then a mask of cold indifference.

“I don’t do spells, you stupid barbarian. You got some bad intel,” the wizard rasped out, eyes narrowing in disdain.

“Shut up!” Hector growled out. He shook the boy, slamming him into the amber again.

The wizard spat in his face.

Hector’s rage flared. He whirled his young captive around and tightened his grip.

“I’m going break the hand you used to cast the spell, I’m going to impale you on one of these amber spikes, I’m going to carve his name into your chest and then sit back and watch you bleed out.”

The wizard’s eyes were wide in horror. But he wasn’t looking at Hector’s blade, he wasn’t looking at the amber spike. His small hands had even fallen away from where Hector held him by the throat.

His eyes were locked on the pillar, up where Quirin’s face was. His face had fallen in shock. He looked around the room seemingly only just realizing where they were.

“What am I doing back here?” He asked in shock. Hector was pleased to see the haunted look on the kid’s face.

“I told you: You’re going to do one last spell,” he said. “You’re going to crack this rock before you die.”

The wizard blinked in confusion. He seemingly needed a few seconds to digest Hector’s words.

“Is this a test?” he asked cautiously.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Don’t question. Just say you’ll do it.” Hector demanded. The wizard nodded and Hector released him, let him drop to the ground.

“Undo your spell. Don’t think delaying will prolong your life.”

The wizard looked up at him from where he sat on the ground. “I tried to tell you before: this wasn’t a spell. I don’t have any magic abilities at all. It was alchemy.”

Then his shoulders fell, and his expression changed to hopeless. “I can’t just snap my fingers and make it right. It will take time.”

“Alchemy?” Hector asked.

He should have known, what with all the glassware strewn about. If the teen did have magical powers, he doubted that he would have allowed himself to be man handled so easily.

 Alchemy was something that Hector had no point of reference for. Ask him twenty ways to kill a man at a distance or break a siege? No problem. Details of specific festivals, holidays, prayers, and rituals centered around the Moon and Moonstone? He could recite them in his sleep. But alchemy and science? Hector had no clue.

How could one in a noble profession like an alchemist end up so wicked and twisted?

“Yes! I need time and materials.” The teen explained in a rush. “I came up with thirty-three chemical combinations while I was locked up. I can start there.”

Hector considered it.

“How long will it take?”

“… I have no idea,” the teen answered eyes cast down to the floor.

“You have three days. Then you will die. Broken amber or no.”

“Wait.” the alchemist straightened his spine and narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you want from him anyway?” he asked as he backed up and placed himself between Hector and the amber as if to protect it from him.

Just when he thought this kid was done surprising him.

“If you are going to try to hurt him… I'm not going to do anything that puts him in further danger...” the alchemist continued coolly despite faltering in his statement.

“Ha! That's rich coming from you.” Hector let out a bitter bark of laughter.

A look of hurt and genuine regret crossed the boy’s face.

Strange.

When Hector made credible threats of hurting the alchemist, he maintained his cool façade. He had not been the least bit contrite or even outwardly intimidated until now. But the reminder of his misdeeds seemed to be a hurt beyond his ability to hide.

“I'd never hurt him,” Hector spoke before he had time to consider it. “I’m just trying to do right by him, he saved my life so many times. It’s the least- I just have to.” Hector had no Idea what possessed him to feel like he had to explain himself to this murderer.

“Really?” the boy asked earnestly.

“Yes.” Hector answered equally earnestly.

The two stared at each other down, looking for some sign of dishonesty or hesitance.

Why was he allowing this criminal to make him feel like he was the suspicious one here? He wasn’t the one who killed the man. What right did the mad alchemist have to act as if Hector was the danger?

The thought spiked his anger again and he crossed the floor in three long strides to loom over the teen.

“Can’t say the same for you. Feign concern as much as you want, but your fate is sealed.”

The teen looked up into his eyes defiantly at first. A few seconds went by, and Hector watched as the teen’s eyes fell to the golden clasp about his cloak.

His eyes widened and a big smile broke out on the teen’s face.

“Ha! If it were for a member of the royal family, I might have been upset. But if I am going to die… at least it’ll be for something I actually deserve.”

How many times was this kid going to surprise him?

Despite the doubt in Hector’s heart, the alchemist seemed to have no doubt he was going to die, and yet he met the threat head-on.

“You’ll do it?”

“Of course.” He answered as if it should have been obvious. “It will be difficult without the Princess, but there are things I can try.” He stood up and brushed off his clothing. He walked up to the worktable at the side of the room on bare feet, avoiding the glass and rubble.

“The princess?” Hector questioned.

The wizard pulled on a pair of thick gloves and a set of goggles over his eyes. The momentary emotional vulnerability from before long gone.

“Her hair is unbreakable. The amber is unbreakable.” He said offhanded as he tied an apron behind his back

Ah. So the amber experiment was done with the intent of defeating the Princess’s magical powers? No matter. He was done talking to the alchemist.

“I’ll keep an eye out for the guards.” Hector said turning away from the room.

The alchemist hummed in acknowledgement as he was already sorting through the beakers and test tubes on the tables. Metal manacles and glassware were clanking together as the boy became totally absorbed in his task.

Hector whistled to Bil to stay put. His loyal bearcat posted up at the entrance of the room and he left the alchemist to his work.

Hector grabbed hold of a collapsed piece of the structure’s support and hoisted himself up. He sat on the roof of his brother’s house and surveyed the surrounding area. Hjúki followed him up and settled in at his side.

Hector was conflicted.

The alchemist was very compliant, and seemingly genuinely repentant in a few moments back there. Perhaps he had found religion in prison? It wasn’t uncommon. Especially for one so young.

Hector missed the simple feeling of vengeful fury. He couldn’t maintain the same level of pure wrath when he considered the alchemist’s age and his compliance.

Hector was watching out for the surrounding area. Every hour or so he would climb down from the roof and check up on the alchemist. He seemed to be working diligently every time Hector came to check on him.

The only sign that the boy had done anything other than work since he was brought here, was the dozen or so lanterns lit around the house.

The boy was so absorbed in his work, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge Hector when he re-entered the lab. Though he was clearly aware Hector was there, given how he would stiffen up and fumble what was in his hands as he entered the chamber.

Hector got a sick sense of satisfaction from his fear as well as the way the boy had to work around the manacles still on his wrists.

Hector quickly put a stop to that line of thought. Didn’t seem decent. Adira always called him a sadist, but this didn’t feel right.

Hector hated that kind of introspection, and he hated the cloying silence.

“Tell me about this crystal,” Hector ordered rapping his knuckles on the amber. “How did you imbue it with so much strength?”

He really be threatening grievous bodily harm right now, Hector thought. Not asking geology questions.

The alchemist stiffened up again at the sound of Hector’s voice.

“I didn’t do that part,” the boy seemed irritated to be indulging Hector’s curiosity rather than focusing on his work. “It was more of an accident.”

“You… what?”

“The impossible durability didn’t come from my solution,” he explained impatiently. “My solution disrupted the structure of the black rocks you’ve seen sprouting up all around the town. The resulting crystal possesses some of the same physical properties. Including the durability.”

“Impossible.” Hector said automatically.

“It’s true!” the alchemist argued, seemingly forgetting his earlier fear.

Thousands of the smartest and most powerful people over the course of his Kingdom’s history had attempted to understand and destroy the rocks.

His own sister having a sword that could cut through the upper, thinner parts of the stalagmites, was a once-in-a-lifetime miracle.

And even that only occurred from a freak accident from the Moonstone itself.

The idea that this child before him, this small dirty urchin, had tampered with the greatest celestial powers…

“Impossible.” Hector repeated.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” the alchemist sighed, gesturing towards the pillar.

Hector peered inside. Following the line where the alchemist was pointing. And sure enough, near about his brother’s suspended ankles, there was a black rock also within the pillar.

As he looked closer, he saw it: a large and clear concavity in the surface of the black rock.

As if indeed, it had been dissolved away with a corrosive solution, and the amber crystal had sprung out.

Hector could not believe his own eyes.

The sight seemed completely wrong. While the presence of the black rocks themselves were an anathema. They had still been a constant all his life. The Moon rose in the east, the Moon set in the west, the tide came in, the tide went out, and the black rocks were a constant and indestructible presence.

This boy might as well have plucked the Stars from the sky.

Hector stared at the rock within the crystal for a long time trying to let his mind wrap around the singularly bizarre sight.

Then he turned his attention back to the alchemist.

Hector had been reckless. He had let his guard down.

His captive may have been young and frail. But by some measures he might also be one of the most powerful people to ever live.

Back in Selene, hundreds of men and women who were so much more educated and intelligent, than Hector would ever be, in the fields of physical science and the arcane arts, had lived and died solely dedicated to the pursuit of understanding and eventually destroying these black rocks.

And here was an amateur alchemist in the midst of boyhood, recklessly altering the physical state of these rocks in a way none had ever even conceived of.

This boy, if he had managed to do this in his early teens, just imagine what he would be capable of by twenty? What about thirty? 

He stood there now looking at Hector, timidly waiting for his reaction, with nervousness plain on his face.

For a moment Hector felt that same fear reflected in his own heart, thinking about the impossible thing this boy had done.

Hector violently pushed that feeling away.

This was the second time a major wrench had been thrown into Hector’s simple revenge plan.

How he wished his brother’s murderer had been an unremarkable evil adult man so he could simply put a sword through him and be done with it. But fate seemed to halt him at every turn.

Surely King Edmond would need to be informed at once.

This breakthrough discovery might be just the thing to reignite a spark of hope in the man. If not him then whoever the current head of House Kepler and all his academics would surely be able to use this. Or perhaps he should send word to the matronly Lady of House Plinius with all her mages.

If he wasn’t mistaken both families had emigrated to Ingvarr after the collapse of Selene. They would be able to do a lot of good with the alchemist. Hector knew better than to hope for an actual solution to the centuries old problem, but this was the first real sign of progress in living memory.

That was a problem though.

There were people that would have use of this young man. People that Hector had duty to.

He also had a duty to his brother.

Hector couldn’t very well commit the boy to the cause of fixing the black rocks problem when he had already resolved to commit the boy to a shallow grave.

Hector left the room once again without another word.

Bil made a whine in the back of her throat in concern as she watched him pass.

A man does his best thinking under the night sky, so Hector climbed back up onto the roof. The problem didn’t become clearer when he was simply alone with his thoughts. Every time he spoke to the kid inside the house below, he seemed to give him another reason not to kill him.

Hector looked up at the Full Moon in the sky above. It felt like it was further away from him in this place. He knew this was likely an illusion. The closer he got to Corona, and to the equator, the smaller and farther the familiar cool light seemed to be from him.

Before Hector realized what was happening. The sound of hoofbeats on cobble stone cut into the silence of the night.

Hector cursed himself. Staring into the sky, like a night-blind fool, when he was supposed to be keeping watch! Unforgivable!

He peered out to see a single rider quickly approaching the house. The Moonlight was reflecting off his polished golden armor. Hector was momentarily confused. He’d thought he had heard more than one rider, but it was probably just the sound of the hoofbeats bouncing off the large stone boarder wall, fooling his senses.

The rider was too close to be heading in any other direction. And he was too close for Hector to simply gather up the boy and hide away and wait for him to pass by.

Too close. He had to face the problem head on. Hector climbed down from the roof.

“Good evening, Sir!” Hector called out.

The guard stiffened in surprise as he searched around for the source of the voice. He lit a torch and moved it around to peer out into the darkness.

Hector deliberately stepped into his light. He held his hands up and open and did his best to appear non-threatening.

It was no use. The guard still started at his appearance and eyed him warily.

“Evening,” the guard called out in response. “Identify yourself.”

“I am Hector of the Brotherhood of the Dark Kingdom. How may I be of service, Sir?” He tried his best to sound formal and nonthreatening. Hector wasn’t used to operating on the wrong side of the law.

“We are hunting an escaped criminal, an extremely dangerous and unstable young man. We have strong reason to suspect he would have returned to his home. Surrender yourself and him and neither of you will be harmed tonight.”

Well, if that didn’t give Hector pause.

Perhaps he ought to re-think his approach? No. He could still salvage this.

The guard continued. “Less than five hours ago the castle was infiltrated by a monster of a man who released our nation’s most dangerous prisoner.”

“Well, as you can see; No monsters or fugitives here.” He said simply. “Just passing through here. We’ll be out of here by morning-”

“He’s in the back room!” another voice announced from behind Hector. Another guard with a lit torch appeared from behind the home. So, there was another rider.

The first guard’s face hardened into a glare directed at Hector.

“Is this the other one?” The second guard asked.

“Hold on a moment,” Hector gave one last try. “We are not criminals. I am just here to settle my older brother’s estate and the boy inside is my page.”

Neither man seemed even a little bit convinced.

“And you just so happened to settle in for the night at the Dark Wizard’s stronghold? Do you really think we were sent out into the night without a description of the wizard’s accomplice?”

Damn.

“A description that matches you toe to tip.” The second guard added.

Damn.

“And there is hardly a single guard in all of Corona who wouldn’t know the wizard on sight.”

“Damn.” Was all Hector had time to say before he abruptly lunged forward.

The guard started back in surprise. Hector yanked the torch out of his hands and tossed it into the river.

The guard reached across himself to draw the sword at his hip. Hector simply engaged the switch at his gauntlet so his sword would pop out.

So when Hector swung down his blade, the man had only just managed to get his blade up in a block.

Had Hector intended to do the man real harm he would have been able to push past it and put his blade to the man’s neck or face. Instead, he simply pushed the man backwards.

The man voluntarily stepped back further and searched around for his opponent.

Hector could barely suppress his grin as he realized how poorly the man must be seeing in the night. The man had stripped away his own night eyes by lighting up the torch.

Hector moved to strike again at the first guard when the second guard, finally sprang into action. He had brought his own torch closer and grabbed at Hectors sword arm, pulling it back.

Hector swiftly reached back with his other hand and grabbed hold onto the golden cuirass of the man clinging on to him.

He yanked the man up, off his balance.

Hector crouched down slightly, to further pull the other man’s weight forward. He pulled with his arms and pushed with his legs fully lifting the guard off the ground and throwing the weight forward.

Hector flung the second guard forward towards the first, who had started stepping towards him, when the full weight of his partner barreled into him effectively knocking them both to the ground.

The second guard, the one who had been thrown, sat up rubbing his head and groaning in pain. The first guard was able to recover quicker, he rose up to his feet. He snatched up his sword and adopted a fighting stance again.

Hector stomped out the torch that the second guard had dropped when he had been thrown, plunging the pair back into the darkness save for the faint oil lantern light coming from the house behind him.

Seemingly undeterred by the loss of sight, the guard lunged forward with an overhead swing of his sword.

Hector simply sidestepped the strike and let the man’s own momentum carry him forward. Hector then delivered a quick blow to the man’s back to push the guard off his feet.

The guard impacted the ground hard. The clank of his armor and helmet clanging into the night.

Hector swiftly brought his booted foot down on the back of the golden helmet on the guard’s head, denting the metal.

Hector crouched down and yanked the helmet up out of the dirt to examine the downed guard’s face.

Unresponsive but still breathing.

Hector nodded in approval.

The sound of the slide of metal caught Hector’s attention.

He glanced up to see that the second guard had found his feet, drawn his sword, and was now holding it unsteadily at Hector’s face.

Hector gazed back at the man nonchalantly.

“S-surrender yourself!” The guard started out shaky but grew harsh by the end of his sentence.

“Nah.” Hector responded unimpressed. He eyed a single pair of reflective eyes shining out from the darkness behind the armored man. Hector gave a soft click from the back of his throat and Hjúki lunged out from the darkness and savagely bit at the back of the guard’s leg, just above the rough leather of his boot.

Hector couldn’t judge just how bad the damage was, but the man had cried out in agony, dropped his sword, and fell to one knee.

Hjúki had locked his jaw as the man fell then he quickly released and bit in again, just as he had been trained to. The man screeched out in pain again.

Hector had risen to his feet at this point, and calmly walked over to the fallen man. He casually kicked the fallen sword away and loomed over him.

“Wait! Wait!” He begged. “Just wait!”

 Hector raised his own sword to bring down on the vulnerable man.

“I said wait! You-you live by the sword or serve a cause- you aren’t just a sell-sword or a random criminal! You referred to him as your page. You are a Knight. So, why? Why are you helping the Dark Wizard?” The guard barked out quickly.

It worked. Hector’s hand stilled.

He sighed and lowered his blade.

The battle tension drained from his body as he sat down on the stone steps to the house and looked at the injured man before him.

The man was not exactly correct. He had never been formally knighted in the service of the Crown. The Brotherhood was a religious office with powers and duties separate from that of the Crown’s. His purpose was to contain the Moonstone, protect it from the world and protect the world from it.

However, in the days before the Moonstone grew unstable, and their Order had to venture out more and more, there were some that viewed them as a vestigial Castle Guard.

But that wasn’t important to the point the Coronan was making.

“Make no mistake, Coronan, I feel sick playing bodyguard to a murderer.” He admitted.

The guard seemed shocked that his obvious stalling tactic had worked but pressed on. “You do know that it’s wrong for him to go free.” He pressed. “Hand him over. And let me put him back behind bars where he belongs.”

Hector shook his head. “I can’t do that. There are several reasons.”

“Which are?” he pressed. The man winced in pain. Hector signaled for Hjúki to let up a bit. Another click of his tongue and Hjúki would tear out the man’s achilles tendon.

Hector motioned behind himself back towards the house. “My brother deserves a proper burial, and the ‘wizard’ is the only one who can free him from the amber.”

The guard took a moment to process the revelation. He gave Hector a nervous and curious look. “The wizard is under the impression that… the farmer can be saved. He became infuriated at the Captain of the guard when he insinuated otherwise. Did he tell you why?” He asked cautiously.

Hector did not know what to make of that new bit of information.

He shook his head. “Perhaps he is simply naïve. Acting his age.”

The guard nodded, as if Hector’s speculation had cleared something up for him.

“Don’t let the age fool you. He’s still a monster.” He pressed on.

“Even a few hours ago, I would have agreed with you but now… I’m not sure. “

“Look around! See what he’s done!”

Hector sighed. “A lot of the destruction that I see is from the black rocks. That should have been everyone’s focus from the beginning. When they first began destroying my homeland generations ago, we all united as one to survive. It looks to me like you Coronans are squabbling as your house burns down around you.”

“We can’t exactly arrest and neutralize the black rocks. But we can stop that kid from hurting anyone else.”

“You are right about that.” Hector granted and then sighed again. “But still my heart is conflicted. I’ve never killed a child before.”

“If you can’t, just hand him over to me.”

“That’s a distinction without a difference. He is in a very sorry state. No. That is simply a matter of killing him by action or inaction. And I am far more the man of action.”

“I can assure you he wouldn’t be killed.” The guard said bitterly. “The King promised the princess he wouldn’t be. She has a strange sense of pity for the boy, far more than he had for her. My orders were to bring him back alive, if possible.”

“However,” the guard said looking straight at Hector. “Is it not your duty to avenge your brother? If you did decide to kill him now, there would hardly be anything that I could do about it. Quirin would be avenged, and my Kingdom would be a safer place for it.”

Hector looked up at the Moon. “Would my brother even want an act like that done in his name?” He wondered out loud. “No. But I suppose I didn’t care a few hours ago...” Hector was clearly no longer addressing the man in front of him.

The guard’s brow furrowed, and he regained that cautious look from before. “I didn’t know Quirin well, but I do have a brother. And I know that I would do anything to do right by him.”

Hector wanted to bark at the guard to stop trying to manipulate him. It was clear the guard simply wanted to return to his superior with either the prisoner or confirmation of his death. He hated the feeling of being goaded into something.

He settled on a warning glare. “I also have a duty to my Kingdom and to the rest of the world. He has tremendous knowledge and power. He could be put to work fixing the curse of the black rocks.”

The guard shook his head.

“This,” he gestured all around him at the ruined village. “Is all his knowledge and power will ever amount to. He is single minded in his own purposes. Even if you could convince him, he’s just as likely to cause destruction to his allies as he is to his enemies. That kid couldn’t do anything right since day one.”

Hector sighed. “Then what would you have me do with him?”

The guard looked from Hector to where Hjúki still held him in place, then back to Hector.

“As a man in our line of work, you know it is your duty to make the hard choices. And as a beast tamer, you know that there are some dogs that just can’t be tamed. No matter how much discipline or love that they are given. Dogs that ought to be put down before they become a danger to themselves and others.”

——————☽☉☾——————

“Careful, Lord Stevinus, feral beasts like him are just as likely to bite at the hands that feed them. You’d be wise to put him down before he hurts someone else.” The servant’s voice echoed about the large chamber.

——————☽⬤☾——————

Before Hector was even aware of his actions he was on his feet and closing the distance between himself and the other man. Panic had only just dawned in the man’s eyes when Hector brought down a gauntleted fist across his face.

The man’s head snapped to the side with the impact, but Hector didn’t hear a snap.

He wasn’t sure if he was glad for that or not.

He stood over the guard’s crumpled form, breathing heavily.

Hjúki pawed at his pant leg with concern and Hector took a deep breath to calm himself.

“And you were doing so well too.” he said regretfully to the unconscious man at his feet.

Hjúki licked away the crimson blood around his mouth and pawed at Hector’s leg again.

“Sorry, boy.” Hector said gently stroking the top of Hijiki’s head. “I’m alright.”

Chapter Text

Hector got to work cleaning up.

He quickly located a large rain barrel behind the house and stuffed the unconscious guard into it.

Hector carefully checked the balance and buoyancy of the makeshift craft before sending it down-river with a shove.

The clear water of the river ran with surprising speed and depth. Hector dipped his hands into the cool waters where the Moon reflected on its turbulent surface. He drank heavily and splashed the water on his face enjoying the sensation. He imagined he could take hold of the Moon’s cool silver light on the surface, and it would bring him peace. Clarity.

He ignored the part of himself that thought it would be easier to use a more permanent solution to the guard problem. After all, irritating as they were; they were just doing their jobs.

He scanned the surrounding area for another sturdy barrel to repeat the process with the guard near the house.

As Hector wandered further into the derelict apple orchard, he spotted another barrel tipped over onto its side. Hector picked it up and was startled by a rush of quick movement as a small and grey blur popped out of the barrel.

A raccoon jumped out and looked around confused and sleepy.

Hector was just about to extend a soft greeting when the raccoon suddenly bolted up straight, urgently sniffing the air.

Hector wondered if he had frightened the small thing, but it didn’t seem to be paying him any mind at all.

The raccoon streaked across the ground right in front of him with a frantic, single-minded urgency Hector had never seen from such a creature before. He didn’t even think the tiny thing saw him as it ran into the house.

Hector was not sure what kind of strange curiosity possessed him but instead of heading to the main entrance of the building he peered in through one of the shattered windows. Hjúki stood up on his hind legs leaning his front paws on the windowsill so he could also peer into the room.

The alchemist was standing before his worktable, working as diligently as he had been before. Hector was surprised that none of the commotion with the guards outside had disturbed him. But he did seem totally focused.

Bil was snoozing lazily near the door where he had left her. The commotion of the raccoon entering the house prompted no more than a twitch of the ears and a single eye to open curiously before she resumed her nap.

So much for guard duty.

The raccoon approached at the same speed as before. Hector was sure it was going to run directly into the boy’s leg when it suddenly stopped short. Hector thought there was hesitance on the raccoon’s tiny face. He slowly and carefully reached out one paw and gently yanked on the boy’s pant leg.

The alchemist’s hands stilled, and he stood up straight, not turning away from the worktable.

“Ruddiger.”

The raccoon tightened his grip on the pant leg in its grasp and pulled as if trying to persuade the boy to step away from the table and turn around and face him.

He did not move.

“What are you doing here?” he asked stiffly.

The raccoon chittered something, suddenly worried.

“I’m just surprised is all, that you would want to be here.” he said forcing a cool distant tone.

The creature gave another chitter in response.

“You’re right. I will always return here. Even after everything… you still know me too well.”

The raccoon started speaking then faltered and started again in a questioning tone.

“Why do you even care?” the alchemist’s eyes narrowed. Still not facing the raccoon at his feet.

The response was loud and angry.

The alchemist stiffened up again, a flash of pain crossing his face.

“Well, you could have fooled me.” he whispered back.

The raccoon gasped, tears forming in the corners of his beady black eyes.

The creature quickly chittered out a stream of apologetic noises.

“Then why did you do it, Ruddiger?!” He spun around, his angry expression also displayed unshed tears. “Why did you free Pascal?! Why give him the solution to free the others?!”

The raccoon started to explain himself, his own tears flowing freely.

“You were all I had left!” the alchemist interrupted. “Why did you betray me?”

The question was met with a long explanation. One that Hector could not make out the meaning of.

“You- for me? You really thought that I could be come back from the edge, even after everything?” he said voice losing its fire.

The raccoon answered in a hurry. A long tense moment of silence stretched between them.

Suddenly, the alchemist fell to his knees before the raccoon. A sob escaped him.

“All this time,” he choked out. “I thought it was because you hated me. For what I did to you before.”

Ruddiger closed the distance between them placing his tiny hands on the boy’s face. He rubbed tiny circles into the boy’s hair as it chittered out something reassuring.

“Oh, Ruddiger,” the alchemist gasped. “How could you forgive me? After everything I’ve done?”

The raccoon shushed the boy who in turn wrapped his arms around the creature and took him up in his arms. The boy seemed to grow calmer, as he stroked the raccoon in the silence of the chamber. His breathing evened out, and his posture relaxed.

Bil was watching the pair from the door, expression saft and thoughtful.

Eventually, he pulled them apart and set Ruddiger back down on the floor in front of him. He stood up straight and tall.

“You have to go now, buddy,” he said, clearly steeling himself. “There’s a man outside. He said he’s going to keep the guards away so I can work, but he’s dangerous, and who knows how long it’ll be before Fredrick sends the royal guard again. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Once again, Ruddiger chittered something sounding distressed.

“I can’t go with you. Sure, I could catch him off guard with the knockout gas, or blow him up with the Flynnolium, but I still can’t go. If there’s even a slight chance that I can finish this, I have to try.”

In an impressive vertical leap, the raccoon launched itself up onto the boy’s shoulders and held on tight. He chittered something with finality.

“I love you too, Ruddiger. Let’s never be apart again.” he cried wrapping his arms around the raccoon in another tight embrace.

Hector watched the scene.

Unsure what in the Moon’s name he was actually seeing unfold before his very eyes.

Hector had watched an entire civilization fall to ruin and entire clans torn asunder in the fallout. Yet that was the single most melodramatic conversation he had ever witnessed. And it was between a teenager and a raccoon, no less.

Under different circumstances he probably would have laughed at the absurdity of it.

Hector heard a soft sniffle at his side and turned to see Hjúki watching them with sad eyes. He looked at Hector, clearly moved.

“Save your pity. He still killed my brother and I’m still going to kill him slowly.”

Hjúki huffed and stalked away. Hector knew he wouldn’t wander off too far.

He had to admit, even if just to himself, he would rather not have seen what he just saw. As absurd as the whole thing was, knowing the boy cared so deeply for the small creature went a long way to further humanize him to Hector.

He looked over to where Bil sat in the corner and watched the pair embrace.

Hector had also always formed deep bonds with animals. Oftentimes, he felt like they understood him better than people, and to know this mad alchemist was the same way… perhaps he would only kill him moderately slowly.

At least that’s what Hector told himself.

Despite his words, he knew the odds of him actually making good on his threats were dwindling by the second. If they ever were real at all.

The alchemist promptly returned to work. Ruddiger was acting as a lab assistant, handing the boy books and vials when he reached for them.

Hector kept watch for a few more hours.

Hector was relieved that the absence of the two guards from before didn’t seem to attract too much attention. But at the same time, he wanted someone to fight, he had all this pent-up righteous fury that he didn’t have any outlet for. He stared off into the distance, towards the castle, daring it to produce a new challenge for him, perhaps a few more castle guards or some bounty hunters. Something.

The night went on. The Moon rose to its full height in the sky and began its patient descent. Once again, Hector investigated the small dwelling, he peered inside through the window.

He was surprised to see the boy still at his table, it had to be well past midnight and into the small hours of the morning by now.

Hector had slept throughout the previous day, preferring to operate at night. The kid, however, was clearly flagging. It was clear from the delayed reactions and the way he kept having to shake himself awake.

Ruddiger was yanking on his pant leg again. Clearly trying to force his human to get some rest. Hector was about to intervene, when he finally sighed and put the test tubes in their racks.

“These need to sit for at least two hours. I guess I can try to get some rest in the meantime.” he relented.

He watched as the teen took off his gloves, apron, and goggles. He walked up to the amber pillar that encased Quirin. Hector’s eyes went wide as the alchemist pressed himself into it, resting his forehead on the hard amber.

Just as Hector had, only a few hours ago.

“I still haven’t given up. Never will. I love you.” He said softly and yawned. “Goodnight.”

The teen then dropped down and curled up into a little ball on the stone floor, at the foot of the amber pillar.

Hector blinked at the sight.

Why would he do that?

He looked so small and vulnerable down there on the floor. The kid managed to drift off in record time. It was unsurprising given the late hour and the events of the day.

A shiver went through the kid’s form and Hector wondered why the teen hadn’t just taken the extra ten steps over to the bedroom.

Then he noticed the way the boy clung on to the amber in his sleep. A subconscious yearning to be closer to it.

Hector was reminded of a time when he had traveled through a small town in Selene, long before it’s fall. He saw a starving dog sleeping beside an unmarked grave. Hector had tried to coax the dog away, to come along with him. A passerby informed him that the dog had been there for days on end. Several townsfolk had tried to lure it away to no avail, and that when one forced it away, it broke out and came right back to the grave. The dog loved his master so much that he had resolved to die there by his side. And sure enough, the very next day the dog had died. Hector buried it in the Moonlight right beside his master’s grave so they could be together forever.

Hector wasn’t sure why the comparison disturbed him so.

Hector didn’t know why the alchemist was clinging to the amber tomb as if for comfort and why it seemed like this was the most natural thing in the world to the kid. Unbidden, he wondered if that was where the boy had slept all the time leading up to the Battle of Old Corona.

Hector did not speculate further.

He entered the house, walked up to the sleeping form on the ground and nudged him with his boot. Not hard, just enough to jostle him awake.

The teen shot up and let out a frightened yelp.

“Calm yourself.” Hector ordered.

The kid took a deep breath and nodded.

“Why did you do this?” He asked as he rested a hand on the surface of the amber.

The alchemist took a moment to process his words.

“It’s a pretty long story,” he answered, rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t need all of it. Just. Why him? Why a random village leader? I get that you wanted to take over Corona. But where does Quirin play into all of it? Did he try to stop you?”

Hector wasn’t sure why he was still asking questions. Did intent really matter here? Why did it feel like Hector was asking the kid to defend himself? Asking him to give Hector a reason—any reason to spare him.

A silence hung in the air before it was interrupted by a hysterical bark of laughter. The alchemist staggered up to his feet.

“Is that really the narrative out there?” he laughed, with a half-crazed look in his eyes. “The evil wizard tries to take over the world, and kills an innocent man along the way?”

He turned away from Hector, to face the amber, looking up at Quirin.

“Shouldn’t be surprised. Touching her arm was apparently an assassination attempt. They all sang about saving the Kingdom from me. Me! As if it was all my fault! Like I wasn’t the only one actually doing something to try to save it!” He paused his ranting.

“Fine. So be it,” his head snapped back to Hector, and he took a step towards him.

Hector drew his sword in warning. The boy did not seem fazed, as he moved closer.

“It was all me. I attacked him! I set out to kill the entire royal family! I unleashed the black rocks on the Kingdom and built my robots so no one would stop me! It was all me!” His arms spread wide as if inviting Hector to attack him.

Hector’s gaze ran down the kid’s form again. Rags for clothes, half starved, old and new bruises and scars, dark circles under his eyes, and the completely broken look on his face.

Then there were all the little things that didn’t add up. The state of the house, the words of all the prisoners, and the kid’s own actions.

Ruddiger chittered worriedly somewhere off to the side.

“I see now,” Hector said. He dropped his shoulders, took a half step back and withdrew his sword.

“Is that it?” The kid asked moving forward again. “Won’t you extract your righteous vengeance?”

“You’re lying.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re lying. Don’t know why I didn’t get it before.” Hector sighed running a hand through his hair. 

The boy just stared up at him in surprise.

“You’re hurting. You want me to hurt you because you feel like you deserve it. But I won’t be manipulated.”

“How did you…?” he seemed stunned. As if it never even occurred to him that his confessions wouldn’t be taken at face value.

“The black rocks.” Hector explained. “I’ve watched them tear up everything in their paths, long before you were even born. They took my home from me…”

Hector tried to make his voice softer. “And I’m starting to get the impression that it was the same for you.”

The alchemist let that false confidence drop, the furious manic energy that overtook him before left him and he let his head drop in shame.

“Yes.”

Hector took another look at the house around him, as the pieces were beginning to fall into place.

“You’re a young and inexperienced alchemist. You thought you could stop them. The experiment went wrong. Quirin paid the price. You went mad. Something along those lines?”

A silence hung in the air between them.

“I—it should have been me,” the boy hissed, tears rolling down his face. It seemed there was still some residual anger left over. “He told me not to experiment on them! But he still pushed me out of the way!” He slammed a fist down on the amber.

“Why would he do that?!” he yelled, but this was an actual question. He was staring right at Hector with his teary eyes as if pleading with him for an answer.

Hector sighed. So much of his vengeful fury was being replaced by pity, it was almost disorienting.

“Because that was just the kind of man he was.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have! He should have let me be the one to be encased! I’m the one who made the mistake! I should have paid the price!” He argued.

For the second time in just a few hours, Hector really empathized with the kid. In his younger years, Hector had gotten himself in more than a couple sticky situations that Quirin put his neck on the line to bail him out of. And every time his big brother got hurt trying to help Hector clean up his own messes… But he couldn’t dwell too much on that. He had more questions.

“How did you come to be here?”

“What?” The boy asked in confusion as he furiously whipped the tears from his face to regain his composure.

“In this house. Did you start squatting here after he was encased? Or were you here before?” Hector asked patiently.

“I live here,” the teen answered. He placed a hand on the amber pillar “I was born here. Quirin’s my dad.”

The silence stretched out between them.

Hector could almost tangibly feel the context of absolutely everything change.

It was like the whole entire world just started spinning in reverse, like it had lurched right out from under his feet, and he had to scramble to keep his balance.

“Your dad?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“For the last 14 years.” he said with an eye roll.

Hector closed the distance between the two of them in an instant and caught the boy by the chin with one hand pushed his hair back with the other. He carefully examined the boy’s face. He flinched but did not pull away.

“I see it a bit around the face, and perhaps in your coloring.” Hector muttered aloud, but mostly to himself.

“Everyone says I look like my mom.”

“And you just never saw fit to mention this?!” Hector demanded.

“Didn’t seem relevant,” he shrugged.

“Didn’t seem-Boy! Er- What is your name?” He let his hands drop away from the boy’s face to his shoulders.

“Varian.”

“Varian, it changes absolutely everything.”

“Not really. I might be his son but I’m still the one who did this. I still have to fix it,” he said dully.

When Hector arrived that evening, he thought that his brother had been killed by an evil wizard in a hostile takeover attempt. Now, it turns out that his brother was killed in a lab accident, by his traumatized son, who was just trying to stop the black rocks.

The black rocks took their home from them 25 years ago. Despite his own feelings of hurt about it, deep down Hector had been glad that his brother managed to build a new life for himself. And sure enough, here they were again to destroy the man’s home, take his life, and traumatize his son.

Quirin had a son.

By the Moon and the Stars, Quirin had a son.

Hector had a nephew? Perhaps not that label specifically, but they were certainly family of some kind.

What was Hector’s duty here as next of kin? What did he need to do? Hector wasn’t the type of man to carefully weigh out his options and consider all the possibilities. He was far more likely to just do what felt right. This was his way, and it had always served him well.

He certainly couldn’t leave him here in Corona, the boy was in a real sorry state due to Coronan hospitality.

He briefly entertained the idea of taking the kid to a monastery or hospital far away from this blasted Kingdom. But no. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the frail boy at the mercy of strangers.

No. Hector would take him. Shelter him. Surely this was his duty. He owed Quirin this much, at least.

Hector realized, based on the concerned look Varian was giving him, that he had not spoken for a while as he contemplated his predicament.

Varian shifted uncomfortably, the bindings on his wrists clanked a bit with his movement.

“Oh, here let me-” Hector exclaimed, as he reached out towards the boy’s wrists.

Varian flinched away at Hector’s sudden movement.

“Sorry.” the kid said automatically, standing up still and stiff again.

Now with this new insight Hector could see the stiff aloof behavior as a cover for his fear rather than the cruel indifference he had thought it was before.

The kid was scared. The kid was scared of him. And rightfully so.

Hector quickly pulled his hands back.

He took out the key ring he had stolen from the prison guard and pulled out the small one that looked like a fit for the cuffs.

“Here,” He slowly knelt down in front of the boy and held his hands out.

Varian blinked in shock but still extended his bound wrists to Hector.

He removed the cuffs. Varian had angry red marks on his wrists where they had been.

“They’ve been on for about 12 hours.” He explained sounding embarrassed for whatever reason. “And I tend to markup easy.”

Hector lightly ran a thumb along the red mark.

“I’m sorry. I should have removed them earlier.” Hector looked up at Varian’s confused expression and realized what an absolutely idiotic thing he had just said.

The icy realization crashed down on him.

“And for dragging you around by them, and for grabbing at you by the neck! And for pushing you! By the Moon! I’m so sorry I slammed you into the rock! I-!”

Hector couldn’t stop. He felt like if he stopped, he would become sick at the thought of all the horrible things he had done.

Quirin’s son, the first Son of Darkness born in generations, the only family Hector had left who had not betrayed him, and Hector immediately brutalized him upon meeting!

He had hurt a Son of Darkness. If the Brotherhood still existed in the way it once had, he’d be immediately expelled from the Order. If the late King Horace could see him, he’d have had one of Hector’s hands hacked off, and placed on the altar of Orion to serve as a dire warning to the faithless.

More importantly, he had hurt Quirin’s son. His own family. Right in front of the man’s corpse.

He clung on to Varian’s hands careful not to grip too hard, avoiding his injured wrists.

“And I’m sorry, I never should have threatened you! I should never have spoken to you in any of the ways that I did.”

Varian’s face had gone from confused to bewildered. But Hector barreled on anyway.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What about from before? You were all but catatonic when I found you in the dungeons. Do you have any injuries from there? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold-?”

He checked the boy over. He had multiple bruises on his face as if he had been struck there multiple times. On top of the markings on his wrists there was also bruising on his upper arms.

White hot shame gripped him when he saw the beginnings of bruises forming on Varian’s neck. Though he felt some measure of relief that there seemed to be no lumps on the back of his head where it impacted on the amber.

“I’m okay.” Varian cut him off, taking a small step back.

Hector took a deep breath to calm down all his racing thoughts.

“Varian, I’m so sorry. I believed all the rumors around town, and I was so messed up from having found Quirin and I just- But that’s no excuse.”

Hector was still on his knees but then he placed his palms flat on the ground and bowed forward until his forehead touched the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Varian gave a nervous chuckle. “It’s really alright, Sir.” He cast a sad glance back at the amber. “You really didn’t do anything that I didn’t deserve.”

Hector straightened up. “Look at me, kid. That is absolutely untrue. I was way out of line. And I solemnly swear by the Moon and Stars and for all my days in the Darkness, that I will never do anything like that ever again.”

Varian didn’t seem convinced but nodded, nonetheless.

“Okay, well.” Varian said still sounding apprehensive. The kid looked totally caught off guard.

Hostility and threats, he had built up defense mechanisms for. But he seemingly had no prepared response for an honest and forceful apology.

“All is forgiven, then. And I’m okay, so I can get back to work now…” Varian said as he began to turn away back toward the worktable.

“Let me help you.” Hector blurted out, rising up to his feet.

He wanted to kick himself, even he didn’t know what he even meant by his words. All he knew was that Varian was still scared of him. Of course, he was. He had done nothing but hurt him since the moment he had met the kid.

“Um, that’s okay, Sir.” Varian responded after a brief pause. “I’ve already got Ruddiger helping me. So, if you’re not going to kill me, you can take off. But, um, leave an address? I’ll send you a letter once I get him freed.”

By the Moon, the kid didn’t even know who he was. He was screwing everything up. This was why Quirin was always responsible for diplomatic interactions. Hector had no idea how to talk to people and he couldn’t afford to mess it up this time.

Hector slowly and carefully removed the gauntlet that concealed his extending sword and the dagger he kept on his belt.

He dropped them both on to the work bench so that Varian could see he was disarmed.

“Let’s start over.” He held out a bare hand.

“My name is Hector of The Dark Kingdom. I’m so sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man, and he meant a great deal to me.” Hector took a deep breath. “I can see that you are in a terrible situation right now, and it would mean a lot if you would let me help you.”

Then after a pause, “Please.”

Varian didn’t seem to be paying attention to Hector’s careful words. He was staring directly at his outstretched hand. Specifically, at the symbol tattooed on it. His eyes were wide as he glanced up at Hector’s face and then back down to the symbol on his hand.

Varian cautiously reached out his own hand and shook Hector’s.

“Hello, Hector. I’m Varian. I’m an alchemist and I accidentally encased my dad in amber. I waged a personal war on this nation’s monarchy in an attempt to free him. I failed. I’ve been locked up in the dungeons for a few months. I-”

He paused, and his gaze fell to the floor. “I think I really do need help. I have no idea what I’m going to do…” he trailed off. He was trembling slightly. Hector would bet he was fighting from letting tears break through again.

“That’s okay.” Hector said softly. His heart ached for the kid. He reached out to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Everything is going to be alright now. We’ll leave as soon as possible. Before dawn if we can manage it.”

Varian immediately pulled out of Hector’s grip and took a quick step back.

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Come with me.” Hector said simply. “You can’t stay here.” He gestured to the crumpling mess around them.

Varian’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going anywhere. I still have to fix this.”

Hector scoffed. “And what are you going to do here all on your own? No money, resources or means of protection. Even if I decided to stay to help you fight them off, the guards would eventually overwhelm us both. You’d be right back to your prison cell.”

Varian glared up at him and squared his shoulders. “I’m not leaving him.”

Hector sighed. This poor kid. So wracked with guilt and grief that he can’t think straight.

He very carefully reached down grabbed hold of the kid under his arms.

He then swiftly picked him up and slung him over his shoulder.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

And just feel how light he is! How could I ever have thought this boy was a threat?  Hector moved out of the laboratory room and into the main section of the house. He whistled for Hjúki and Bil to follow along.

“Let me go!” he continued to protest as he tried to break free of Hector’s grip. Ruddiger tried to intercept them as they left, only for Bil to scoop him up by the scruff and carry on.

“Good thinking, girl. Best to bring the pest along.” Hector was impressed by his companion’s intuition. Varian would be much happier to have Ruddiger with him once he calmed down.

“You leave him alone!” Varian demanded.

Hector was about to open his mouth to say something reassuring when he heard glass breaking. Then Hector’s feet failed to move forward properly, and his entire form pitched forward. Hector had to scramble to keep his balance. In his moment of surprise, Varian had wriggled free and dropped to the ground.

Hector looked down to see his feet ensnared in some sort of pink sticky goo. He then looked up to see Varian making a break for the lab door where they had just come from. 

Hector unslung the length of chain he kept on his belt, swung it around a few times and released it. The chain wrapped around Varian’s ankles and this time; he was the one to pitch forward.

Unlike Hector, he wasn’t fortunate enough to catch himself before falling flat on the ground.

“Ouch!” Varian cried out.

“Haha—Oh Stars! Sorry kid!” Hector cut off his triumphant laugh when he heard Varian cry out.

Varian sat up rubbing at the sore shoulder that had taken the brunt of the impact. Hector heaved a sigh of relief that Varian didn’t seem too banged up from the fall.

 For a moment neither of them moved. “It appears we have reached an impasse.” Varian said.

“Think so?” Hector smirked again. He pulled the chain in. Effectively dragging Varian across the floor towards him. Hjúki and Bil appeared over the kid’s shoulder, effectively surrounding him.

Varian’s eyes darted from one animal to the other then back to Hector. “Okay so, maybe I lost that one.” He granted. “But you need to think long term about this. Presumably you live pretty far away, and I might not be able to overpower you now, but you can’t remain vigilant 24/7 out in the world.”

His voice dipped lower. “Eventually, I will get away and come back here.” Varian said that last part like a solemn oath.

Stars above. He was right. Even if Hector and his three animal companions took shifts keeping an eye on Varian.  The chances of them making the months long journey back to the Great Tree without slipping up once were slim. Not to mention, he really didn't like the idea of dragging the kid around in chains… again.

Leave it to Quirin to have such a troublesome kid.

Hector took a deep breath. Time to take a more diplomatic route.

“Look kid, I ain’t saying it’s forever. Trust me: that’s the last thing I want. But you have more of the stuff that makes the amber right?”

Varian looked away but nodded.

“So, once we get to my home and are totally safe from the Coronans you can make another pillar of amber and work on breaking that one down. Once you perfect the technique, I’ll bring you back here. Then you’ll be your dad’s problem again. How does that sound?”

It was a lie.

Hector had no faith his brother would ever be freed, much-less still be alive even if he were. But if Varian needed a small measure of senseless hope to get him out of this terrible situation: So be it.

Varian mulled over the offer, still hesitant. Probably still frightened.

“In the long run it will be better to work uninterrupted, not having to dodge the guards all the time. And there are all kinds of scrolls and ancient texts about the black rocks that could help you back at my place.” Hector pressed.

Varian looked up at him, large blue eyes searching. Hector hoped he would find whatever it was he was looking for.

He took a deep breath. “I have some conditions.”

Hector sighed. “Why don’t we cut each other lose first?”

Chapter Text

When Hector and Varian had both been freed, they stood uneasily looking at each other.

Varian was unsure what under the Sun was going on with his life anymore. Less than a year ago, he was a normal village kid. Then the black rocks, a personal loss, his war with Corona, over four months in prison, an abduction, and now here he was.

This strange guy who had been pushing him around a few hours ago, and trying to abduct him a few minutes ago, was trying to spirit him away from Corona.

He took a small step back. Careful to avoid any of the shattered glass, as he was still in his bare feet and prison clothes.

“I um- if we are going to leave, I need to bring some things,” Varian said. He wasn’t sure how to explain to this strange man that he needed to pack a cache of alchemical supplies.

Hector, the man who was apparently a friend of his father’s, didn’t press any further and simply nodded.

Before he had noticed the symbol that matched his dad’s tattoo, Varian was quick to write the man off as just another guard, even if not one aligned with Corona. He was just another grownup with bad intentions.

But now, Varian was paying attention.

Hector was a strange one to be sure. He seemed to lack many social graces. After the revelation about who he was, the man had physically inspected him for injuries before even offering him an introduction or handshake. And there was something about the way the man spoke, the intense look in his eyes, and his general unease. It reminded Varian of those few prisoners in the dungeons who had been locked up for many years, long enough that their socialization had been ebbed away by the isolation and confinement. “Stir-crazy” was what Andrew called it. Had this man escaped from somewhere?

The most striking thing he noticed was the man’s strange eyes. They seemed to be an unusual yellow-green color, and they seemed to catch and reflect the light like Ruddiger’s. He wondered if the man also had night vision like Ruddiger, that would explain how he dragged Varian across the countryside without a torch.

Varian wanted to ask the man about them, and how he knew his dad and just about a million other things.

Instead, he made his way back into the lab. Hector followed at a respectful distance.

“Hey buddy, we’re packing now. Can you stopper and store the work from the last few hours and the raw unused compounds?” Varian asked Ruddiger who gave a little solute and hopped up onto the table. But not before shooting Hector and his animals a suspicious glare.

“Thank you,” Varian smiled and gave his friend a quick pat on the head before moving on.

He heard the sound of a beaker breaking behind him but paid it no mind. After months of hearing nothing but harsh voices, clanking metal bars, and the shrill winds cutting through the cell block, the sound of alchemy in motion almost made him smile again.

Varian put on his goggles again and his apron and gloves. Not that they offered him much physical protection, but they still made him feel much safer.

He expected to turn to see Hector re-arming himself with his sword gauntlet (Varian would NOT stop to think about how cool it was.) and his dagger.

Hector reached for the weapons, then looked back to Varian, and let his hand fall away, opting not to re-arm himself.

Varian wasn’t sure what Hector was trying to convey with the gesture but felt relieved, nonetheless. He turned away and headed towards the corner of the room.

“You two keep watch.” He heard Hector order his two companions as he followed.

Varian brushed away the dust and debris that had accumulated atop the trapdoor that led down into the underground tunnels. He briefly considered if it was wise to reveal his secret escape route to the man.

He looked back to the shiny golden clasp on Hector’s cloak and yanked the door open.

Varian descended the ladder to tunnels under the town. He found he was less stable on his feet than he was the last time he made this climb months ago. When he finally made it all the way to the bottom, he was breathing hard. He took a few steps back and leaned on the wall to catch his breath. Hector climbed down after him, taking less than half the time that Varian had.

Varian was determined to be back to standing up straight, with his breathing under control by the time Hector made it to him.

He must not have done a very good job. By the time Hector reached him the man didn’t say anything, simply unclipped the canteen on his belt and held it out to Varian.

“I’m fine,” Varian assured him, hoping his voice sounded normal.

“Just take it,” Hector ordered, holding it out again.

Varian thought better of arguing, he just nodded and took the canteen. He took several deep sips from it before handing it back.

Hector nodded in approval, then stepped aside so that Varian could lead the way.

Varian picked up and lit one of the oil lanterns he kept at the bottom of the ladder and the two walked down the empty tunnels in silence for a few minutes.

They reached the familiar joining tunnel, where the walls grew narrower. Varian peeked down the length of a tunnel, cautious at first, then he took a few tentative steps down it to get a better look. He thought he could almost make out warm torch light shining out from the end of the tunnel.

"Is that the way?" Hector asked from behind him.

Varian shook his head. "This tunnel leads directly to the Castle. I’m just surprised they haven’t blocked it off after everything."

Hector made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. "Not surprised. Your nation sucks at national security."

Varian shrugged. "If you say so. I wouldn't really know."

He cast a wary look down the tunnel. "But, you'd think they would have done something after I literally kidnapped the Queen using this tunnel."

Hector scoffed. "Easier to lock up the perpetrator and call it a day, than to dedicate half a dozen men to sealing it off, I guess."

"I guess." Varian agreed. "But that raises another question." He felt himself smiling slightly. "How did you manage to break into the castle? I grew up directly above this tunnel and I still spent days preparing my break-in."

Hector shrugged. "I climbed up as high as I could. Moved along the rooftops. People tend not to look up. Found an open window. Then snuck down to the dungeons from there."

"And no one saw you?" Varian couldn't help how impressed he sounded.

"Nah. People definitely saw me. Had to threaten some girl for directions at one point. But if you're swift and strong enough. It doesn't matter as much."

Varian thought over the words. "I wasn't swift and strong enough. I had to make all sorts of distractions and trick people into being where I wanted them to be," he admitted.

Hector chuckled. "I'd imagine so. You look like a particularly strong gust of wind could take you out. A single guard could’ve ruined your whole plan."

Varian felt the smile vanish from his face. Hector was looking down on him. He needed to not seem so weak. And openly talking about how he committed heinous acts of treason was also probably not ingratiating behavior either.

“But still. I wish I had known this was here. Could have saved me a lot of trouble.”

"You'd think that with me having just been busted out of the dungeons they would have at least considered the tunnels." He felt anxiety from his own words. "Perhaps they still will. Let’s compare castle invasion strategies later. We should hurry."

"’Kay." Hector agreed as he easily matched Varian's nervous pace.

“So, when you said that you took the princess… you meant that you were trying to use her magic to break the amber, not that you were trying to use the amber to defeat her magic?” Hector asked after a few more minutes of walking.

Varian nodded. “Yes. Freeing Dad has always been the priority…” he said confidently, but then trailed off. “But I’d be lying if I said I never wanted to use the amber on her and her parents.” He added with shame.

Varian waited to see Hector’s face twist in disgust. Instead, he just kept staring down the tunnel with a neutral expression. “Greif can make a man do crazy things. I won’t stand in judgment. I’ve certainly lashed out in anger.”

Hector gave him a significant look as if trying to impress upon Varian some meaning he could not decipher.

That was something that helped Varian put his fear aside. Hector seemed like he understood.

This man was the only person in the entire world, besides himself, who seemed to actually care about his dad. All those familiar villagers in Old Corona, all those colorful sunny residents of the capitol, who once claimed to respect and even like his dad had instantly turned their back on Varian and refused to help in any way. Fredrick had once called his dad a friend then turned around and threw a huge kingdom-wide grand opening party for an art gallery just a few days after he'd been encased. Varian felt his fists clench in anger at the memory.

Varian was sick of being gaslit by Corona.

You attacked the princess. You are dangerous. We need that scroll. Just ignore the rocks! They aren’t a threat. Don’t even speak of them. The Sundrop is gone. There is nothing to be done. Don’t even try. You are unstable. Just move away. Nothing is wrong! It’s always something with that guy. No one knows what caused the rocks. The storm is more important than your dad. Coronan diplomacy is more important than your dad. An art competition is more important than your dad. The Princess’s birthday party is more important than your dad.

Hector might be scary and unhinged but at least he cared.

Every so often, Varian would stop and stick his head into the different alcoves and nooks in the tunnels, he had hidden away some of his projects and experiments in them. He told himself it was because he was assessing how picked over the place had been after his arrest. But he knew in his heart that the real reason was that he missed the sight of them. Missed thinking about his different interests and found comfort in seeing them still there down in the dark tunnels. As if the life he had before wasn't really gone. He pocketed choice materials as he moved.

When he stuck his head into the room that held his disastrous water heaters, he quickly backed out and hurried on his way quicker than before. The stranger hadn't commented on their frequent stops up to that point, but he didn't want to risk it.

Explaining the catastrophic failure to his father had been one of the worst moments of his life. (At least up to that point. The world would soon show him how much worse his life could get.) But the thought of recounting the miserable failure to his father's friend was enough to make his face twist into a grimace.

"So, these tunnels." Hector broke the silence after a few more minutes of walking. “What are they even doing here?”

“They were built hundreds of years ago by Herz Der Sonne. The only good Coronan King, in my opinion.”

"Was that the king who wooed his enemy and effectively annexed the entire rival nation?"

"You know the story?"

"Sure. It was taught to us as an example of expert de-escalation. Adira and I didn't quite believe in the authenticity of the tale. But your father said it was romantic." Hector chuckled at the memory. "Explains why he was the only one of us to get married.”

Varian wanted to yank out his hair.

It felt like every time this man opened his mouth Varian wanted to bombard him with a million questions.

Who was Adira? When were you, my father, and this Adira person learning about military de-escalation? Why were you learning it? Did you know my mom? What else do you know???

But Varian bit his tongue. He knew all too well that asking a lot of questions was a surefire way to irritate grownups. Irritate at best, provoke into violence at worst. If this last year had taught him anything, it was that asking questions, in general, was bad and Varian was an inherently curious and questioning person. Maybe that's why he was so bad…

Varian quickly put a stop to that whole train of thought. This man had only just decided to spare his life. It would not be wise to release a title wave of questions on him.

"I guess I can't really speak to the historical authenticity. But it's taught as fact here in Corona. Has a whole national holiday and everything. But I was locked up with a guy who said he was the great-grandson of General Champanier, and he claimed that his ancestor betrayed their people for greed and personal gain rather than love. Most of the non-Saporians agreed that was just sour grapes though."

"That man you were locked up with when I found you in the dungeon?"

"Yep, that's the one."

"Seemed like a real creep, in hindsight," Hector said, face scrunching as if he was smelling something foul.

Varian wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn’t recall a single second of the interaction between the two men. Andrew's treatment could be gruff, controlling, and occasionally violent. But he also couldn't deny the times the man had been there for him when no one else was, and the times he comforted him in ways that he really didn’t have to. It could make him uncomfortable at times, but at least there had been someone there for him. And maybe that was all just to manipulate him, but he couldn't say for sure.

Varian just hummed noncommittally.

He was relieved when he saw they were coming up to their destination. Varian jogged the rest of the distance to the last hidden room in the tunnel.

He ignored how heavy his breathing was. He placed his oil lantern down on the ground and picked up his old walking stick.

“What's that?” Hector asked as he caught up.

“A better source of light!” Varian smiled. He couldn't believe it was still here after all these months. And if this was here, then chances were good that everything else would be too.

Varian shook up the staff and the contents of all the test tubes tied to the end swirled and began to emit their colored light.

"Incredible," Hector said examining the staff. "Did you make that?" He asked.

Varian felt himself blushing. Warmth spread inside his chest and a lump rose up in his throat at the praise. Varian had to suppress the urge to hold it out and show it off to the warrior.

Pathetic.

Stop it.

Jeez, look at you. A few kind words, and you're getting all mushy. He probably just said it to be polite.

Varian shoved all his feelings aside. "Yep. Needed something that wouldn't get blown out by harsh winds like a torch and didn't require me to constantly replace the fuel like a lantern."

And before Hector could say anything more, Varian turned away and yanked on the loose tarp that covered the last hidden alcove, where Varian had made his secret lab.

Varian coughed from the dust that was scattered and stepped into the room.

The first thing he did was activate the other lights he had spread around the room.

There was a large trunk under one of the worktables. Before, he had mostly used it to store his food rations. Varian tipped the trunk over a dumped its contents out onto the floor.

He quickly found the raw compounds that hadn't been opened or used yet and packed those. He decided to take the blueprints but leave most of the automaton parts, they would be too heavy to lug around wherever they were going. But he did make sure to pack up the smaller devices and their components. After all, who knew when you might need an automatic dish scrubber?

He moved on to some of the potions he already created. He tried to recall which were expired or past their potency. He pondered if the raw mood potion he replicated would be worth-

"Were you living down here?" Hector asked from behind him.

Varian snapped out of his thoughts to look over. He was standing over the small pile of blankets and cushions he had snuck down from the house and piled into the corner as a makeshift bed.

“For a little while,” Varian answered walking over to it. "I used to make coco with this bunsen burner.” He picked up the device and tossed it in the trunk. “And lived off the salted meats,” he gathered up a few from the pile on the ground. “And whatever else Ruddiger could scavenge above when the guards weren’t around."

Hector's eyes were wide, and he had Varian pinned with a disturbed look. "I thought that you were arrested immediately after the Battle of Old Corona."

"I was," Varian confirmed. "This was from before that."

“Why did you have to hide out before the battle, again?"

“That's a long story,” Varian said, hoping that the man would drop it.

"Dried meat?" he offered a piece to the man. Dad always taught him to be a good host, after all. "Sorry. I'd offer you tea, but the water has just been sitting here in the dusty room for a few months, so it probably wouldn't be any good to drink."

“I’m fine,” Hector said, looking at him strangely again.

Varian took a bite from his own piece of meat. It felt nice to eat something other than the tough bread and lumpy gruel that prisoners were given. And he hadn't eaten anything since that morning. Or yesterday morning?

"Hey what time is it?" Varian asked the man. To his surprise, Hector was actually eating the salted meat.

"Not sure." He shrugged. "Definitely closer to dawn than dusk."

"Gotcha. Better hurry." Varian quickly downed another piece of meat but had to take another break when he ended up gagging on it.

He saw Hector looking at him alarmed, so he just shook his head. “Don't worry. I'm not sick or anything. Just too much too soon." The last thing he needed was the man to think he had some kind of infectious disease.

Hector nodded but that wide-eyed look from before didn’t fade.

Varian got back to work, and after a few short minutes of packing, he shut and latched the lid of the trunk.

He also packed some lighter things from the room in his raggedy old satchel, including his mom’s old quilt and a few miscellaneous machine parts and oil rags.

Varian took special care to grab the small leather pouch containing the 'Ruddigerium' capsules laying out on the table and slipped them into his bag. He slung the satchel over his shoulder.

Varian went to grip the handle and lift it only to find that one side of the trunk only rose a few inches off the ground before his burning muscles forced him to give up and drop it back down.

“Sunshine…” Varian cursed, breathing hard.

He glared at the trunk in front of him.

Okay. Can’t lift it. Let’s see if I can push it.

Varian pushed the large trunk several feet out of the room and up through the tunnel. Only to stop a dozen or so feet later to catch his breath and reposition his hands.

Varian took a deep breath and reached to do it again only to see the trunk lift all the way off the ground. Hector easily heaved it over his shoulder with one hand and held out his canteen to Varian with the other.

Varian felt his face heat up in embarrassment.

“Sorry.” He muttered taking a slow sip from the canteen, washing away the taste of salt and bile.

The man’s brows furrowed. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I just- I don’t mean to trouble you. I used to be able to lift it. Even when it was all the way full.”

“’Must have been pretty strong then,” Hector said with a small sympathetic smile. “But you were incarcerated for a long time. You’re a smart kid, you gotta realize that’ll make you lose muscle mass and all sorts of other problems.”

Varian considered that. Of course, he wasn’t feeling like his old self. But he hadn’t realized just how bad it was.

Truth be told, Varian hadn’t felt alright since before his dad was encased in amber. Nothing had been alright since then, and he hadn’t really taken much time to look after his health. After the blizzard, he was too focused on finding a solution, then dodging the guards, then working on his various plots, then the dungeons…

What a mess. When this strange man had forcefully decided to take him on, he probably had not realized how bad off he was. He wondered if this would make him change his mind about Varian.

Was that what he wanted? For the stranger to leave and leave him to his work? He wasn’t sure. He had found he had really warmed up to the idea of getting out of Corona and continuing his work somewhere safe.

Safe. He almost couldn’t remember what that was like. He wondered if it would be possible for him to feel safe around the strange feral man.

Varian was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed when he had led them to the end of the tunnel, to the ladder leading up to his house.

He took a deep breath and put a hand on the first rung when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  

“Wait here,” Hector ordered, eying the entrance to the house overhead.

And without another word, Hector began climbing the ladder. He was a little awkward in his ascent. He held the handle of the trunk in one hand as he held the rungs of the ladder with an underhand grip.

Varian fiddled with the strap of his satchel. Why did Hector want him to wait down here? What if he closed the trap door, and went to retrieve the guards? It didn't seem likely, but still… the idea of this man going out of his way to help him. It just didn't make sense.

Before Varian realized what he was doing, he started climbing up behind the man.

Hector made it to the top without any trouble. Hefting the trunk up and over his shoulders before climbing up himself. When he made it to the top, he looked back down to see Varian huffing up the ladder.

"I told you to wait." he said with a frown. "I was going to come back down to get you."

What did he mean by that?

"Here. Grab on." Hector said reaching out a hand for Varian.

Once again, Varian was baffled. Maybe he didn't mean to trick or trap him. But if this man did mean to help him, he couldn’t afford to be weak. He already wasn't pulling his own weight. Literally.

Varian grabbed hold of the next rung of the ladder to continue his climb.

The offered hand didn't withdraw. Instead, the hand went and reached past him gripping the back of his clothing, and before he even registered what was happening Hector was hoisting him up by the back of his clothing with one hand. Varian was completely pulled out of the trap door and placed on the ground.

Okay. Wow. So, on top of the unusual eyes, he also seemed to have incredible strength.

It reminded him of his dad. When he was young, Varian had always thought he was particularly weak, but then the other villagers assured him that: No, actually, most men can’t single-handedly lift a stone quarry cart off an injured horse. Quirin is just special.

Varian was lucky Hector seemed like he was inclined to actually listen to him. Otherwise, he probably could have pulled off kidnapping him easily.

"Sorry." Varian huffed. Hector just grunted in return and handed over his canteen once again.

All at once, Varian felt guilty for his earlier suspicion. This person genuinely seemed to want to help him, but Varian couldn't seem to make himself believe it. He'd been on his own for so long.

Rapunzel had also said she wanted to help him. Up until the moment when it became inconvenient for her. He needed to do his best to not inconvenience this man. Eventually, Hector seemed satisfied and allowed Varian to hand his canteen back.

Ruddiger had scurried up to him as he had been drinking and nestled in at his side. Varian felt warmth in his chest and gently scratched the raccoon behind the ears. He had been distressed by how much weight Ruddiger had lost during his imprisonment.

He would have to make a point to get more apples for him.

Ruddiger tugged on his shirt and pointed over to his workbench where he had gathered up all the supplies.

"Great job, bud!" Varian praised. "Here this is for you." Varian dug into his satchel and yanked out the Ruddigerium capsules in the small pouch.

Ruddiger tensed up and chittered with concern.

"You can have them. But you don't have to use them if you don't want to. It's your choice." Varian promised.

All at once, Ruddiger relaxed and smiled at him and grabbed the pouch out of Varian's hands, and dug through the contents of the bag.

"No pressure or anything but… Um. Would you mind using them to help me carry all my stuff? You don't have to if you don't want, but-"

Ruddiger cut him off by chittering in affirmation. He closed the pouch again and skittered off towards the kitchen.

Varian got up to finish sorting the supplies in his trunk and on the worktable. With all his alchemy and engineering supplies taken care of, he could then move on to his other things.

He started to go through his clothes only to discover that the few outfits he owned did not fit him anymore. The ratty prison-issued shirt and pants still fit. But the thought of wearing them when he no longer had to was highly distasteful.

He moved on to his father’s clothing. He supposed he could wear one of his father’s oversized shirts and fasten it with a belt, but… it just didn’t feel right.

These were his father’s things. He had no right to steal them. Even considering it made him feel like a vulture picking a corpse clean.

Varian slammed the drawer shut.

Prison clothes it was!

He still packed up a few necessities, including a long length of rope to lash the trunk with. He packed the quilt from the tunnel and tied his cloak over his shoulders. The cloak was also too small for him, but it still had a hood and could give him some warmth. He also donned his red scarf.

“Mr. Hector! I’m all packed-” he cut off when he saw Hector standing in the bedroom holding the family portrait in his hands examining it with an angry expression.

“What? Oh.” He said snapping out of his thoughts. Turning his attention to Varian. “One sec.”

The man withdrew the dagger from his belt and Varian was a heartbeat away from unloading an entire tube of Flynnolium on the man before he realized what Hector was doing.

Hector cut the canvas along the old frame down one edge and then the other, by the end Hector had freed the painting from its frame and was carefully rolling it up. He slipped it into one of the document tubes Varian had used for larger sets of blueprints.

“You ready, kid?” Hector asked.

“Yep.” He nodded.

“Right. Let’s go.” The man said as he made his way towards the door.

“No shoes?” Hector asked, sounding displeased.

“Confiscated in prison.” Varian said, flexing his bare toes.

Hector grunted in disapproval. “And your dad’s?”

“I’m not going to steal from my dad.”

“Do you really think he would hold it against you? Now?”

Varian looked away. “He only had the one pair.”

“Hmm.” Hector seemed displeased. “Anything else you need to bring?”

Varian smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t mind grabbing a cask of my dad’s famous pumpkin ale from the cellar.”

“Why don’t we focus on the necessities?” Hector said amused. “Never pictured Quirin as the brewing type.”

“Having a troublesome teenager has driven many a man to drink.” Varian joked.

He was pleased when he actually got a laugh out of the scary man.

“Would serve him right.” Hector smiled fondly.

When they entered the main room, he eyed the packed-up trunk on the floor by the door.

“So, you do mean to bring the entire thing?” Hector asked him skeptically.

Varian nodded. “Ruddiger’s going to help.”

Hector scoffed. “Your pet can’t even help himself to breakfast,” he said motioning over to the hole in the side of the house. Varian peered out.

Sure enough, outside the home, Ruddiger was standing on his hind legs stretching upwards towards where one of Hector's pets was holding a juicy round apple in its mouth. As soon as Ruddiger got close enough to grab the apple the creature flung it over to the other one in a game of keep-away.

"Hey!" Varian protested.

"Hold on, now." Hector stopped him. "Animals need to establish a pack hierarchy. It’s the rules of nature. Best not to interfere."

Varian sighed. "I think I heard the town kennel master say something like that once." He allowed. "But still."

“Trust me. Hjúki and Bil won’t hurt your friend.” Hector assured him.

Varian still didn’t like it.

“Ruddiger!” He called out. “Go ahead and change!"

Ruddiger looked over to Varian then nodded in understanding. He retrieved the small leather pouch Varian had given him, fished out one of the bright red capsules, and quickly ate it.

A few moments passed. Then in a sudden flash Ruddiger transformed. He displaced the two other creatures with his massive form. Ruddiger snarled at the one with the apple. It whimpered in fear.

Ruddiger took the apple with his hands and ate it all in one bite, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Both animals scurried away in fear of the monstrous raccoon.

"Ha!" Varian said triumphantly. He looked over to Hector. "Do you see? Even the rules of nature can be overcome with the might of alchemy!" he boasted.

Hector was staring at Ruddiger in open shock but then turned back at Varian's voice, snapping his gaping mouth shut in the process.

"Alchemy! The great equalizer! Even those who are born small and weak can achieve new heights with alchemy!" He kept ranting. It felt good to be talking openly about his alchemy, especially to someone who would actually understand his words.

Eventually, Hector's face twisted in distaste and Varian trailed off.

"What is it?" he asked cautiously. "You look mad."

"Mad at myself.” Hector sighed. “Look at you." He gestured to Varian.

"You are the spitting image of Ulla."

The name hit Varian like a slap to the face.

"Your size, excited speech, large eyes, and unfortunate overbite. Of course, you are Ulla's boy! I can’t believe I didn't see it before."

Varian was still reeling slightly. "So, you knew my mom too?" He took up the satchel and long length of rope.

Hector grabbed the handle of Varian’s trunk again, dragged it along, and pushed open the door.

"Of course," Hector said. “Granted, I didn’t-”

"Halt!" a voice cried out. “In the name of King Frederick Der Sonne! You are under arrest!”

Varian immediately froze in fear. The satchel and rope dropped down to the floor. His hands went to his pockets searching for something he could use to defend himself.

He couldn’t see the guard who spoke very clearly as Hector had totally occupied the door frame, a solid wall between Varian and the guard. But he could see a set of shiny golden armor, a drawn sword, and a pair of hateful eyes. That was all it took to make Varian shrink back.

If Hector felt any kind of intimidation, he didn’t show it.

“Oh, hey,” Hector said casually. “I forgot about you.”

“Surrender yourself!” The guard shouted, but his voice was not as strong as before, he was seemingly thrown off by Hector’s nonchalance.

“Good news!” Hector smiled as his blade slid out from his gauntlet. “I’m not conflicted anymore!”

The other man seemed to take the action as his cue, he lunged forward with an overhead swing.

A loud metal CLANG rang out. Varian flinched at the noise. 

Hector's blade had not moved an inch. He seemed to have blocked with ease.

Varian was shocked to see that Hector could hold the blade back with the strength of only one arm while the guard had used both for his strike.

The guard was straining against the block, trying to push Hector backward with all his strength. He was now close enough for Varian to see him more clearly. He didn’t recognize the man from the dungeons, but maybe from the night he had been arrested?

The man’s eyes landed on Varian. Varian felt like all the blood had drained from his face.

“You!” the guard snarled.

“Hey, don’t be rude.” Hector chastised as he roughly kicked out one of the guards’ legs.

The guard howled in pain as he dropped down to the ground.

Varian was able to make out a bloody wound on the back of the guard’s leg near where Hector struck. How did that happen? Did Hector know the wound was there?

Hector stamped down on the blade forcing it out of the wounded man’s hand. Then he kicked the sword away.

Finally, Hector delivered a kick to the guard’s head. The man jolted back and dropped limp onto the ground, unmoving.

Hector hummed in distaste at the sprawled-out guard and strode past him.

“Anyway,” he said to Varian. “So yeah, I didn’t know her very well. But we met maybe a dozen times? Lovely person.”

“Oh. Um. Is he going to be alright?” Varian asked, cautiously creeping past the downed guard. He had a terrifying image in his head of the guard springing up and grabbing at him. But he also found he didn’t want the man to be dead.

“Sure. He’ll be fine.” Hector assured.

“Okay.”

Hector helped Varian lash the trunk to Ruddiger as the raccoon crouched down low for the process. He stood back up and shook about a bit to test the ties. And once he was satisfied with how secure the luggage was. He crouched down for the humans to climb aboard.

Hector threaded his fingers together. “Here. I’ll boost you up.” He offered.

Varian looked at the offered hands. And the hole in the wall of old Corona. He stared into the horizon where the sun was starting to peak through. He felt his heart rate pick up.

Varian spun around and ran back into his house. He pushed off the guard’s metal helmet and leaped over a pile of ruined debris. He ran back through the main room into his lab.

Varian pressed himself up against the amber pillar one last time.

“Goodbye!” He said looking up at his dad’s face. He felt his lips trembling and he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. “I will be back!” he swore. “And when I return, I will get you out! And anyone who gets in my way will pay! Please just wait a little longer!”

Varian backed away slowly, not wanting to tear his eyes away from his father. When he finally turned around, Hector was standing in the doorway. Varian had held back his tears, but he still whipped his nose quickly and nodded.

“Just wanted to say goodbye,” he said voice rough with emotion.

Hector nodded and walked into the room, past Varian, and stood at the base of the amber pillar at his side. Varian couldn’t hear what Hector was saying as he spoke too softly.

Eventually, Hector finished his goodbye and turned around. He placed a kind hand on his shoulder and gently guided Varian out of his home.

Chapter Text

——————☽☉☾——————

Varian woke up back in prison. As soon as he awoke, his muscles tensed. He felt the familiar sting from where the manacles were on his wrists recently. It was dark and dingy. His straw mattress was filthy. He heard his cellmate’s snores echo around their small, shared quarters.

Another miserable day, same monotonous hopelessness as always. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but he could tell there was light in the area. Varian’s sleep-addled mind considered that fact and groaned. Were the torches lit? How had that happened? Why hadn’t he been shouted at to get up for the morning search? And if he refused to get up on his own, he could usually expect a sharp kick to his side to get him moving.

He needed to get up before they-

——————☽⬤☾——————

But wait.

The air around him didn’t reek of dozens of unwashed humans crammed into small tight quarters. Their waste sitting out, their sweat stale clothing, and rotting straw from his mattress... It smelled crisp, fresh. Like he was outside.

And he wasn’t actually hearing snores or the slam of cell doors. He heard birds chirping. He heard the wind blowing through whispering pines.

And he was comfortable. Sleeping on a bedroll; he had his mom’s old handmade catherine-wheel quilt wrapped around him.

That’s right, he slowly opened his eyes. I’m not in prison anymore! He remembered with a rush of relief.

He focused on the sounds of the morning birds, the feeling of the old soft quilt, and the faint scent of last night’s small fire. Letting the sensations ground him.

But wait. He didn’t fall asleep with the quilt. Last night he and Hector had agreed that Varian would take the man’s bedroll and Hector would use the quilt and his own cloak.

Varian looked across the camp to where the man was still sleeping, sitting up against a tree with his black cloak wrapped around him.

He paused to second guess himself, he was exhausted when he dropped off last night. He hadn’t slept in 40 hours or so. Barely remembered anything… but no. He was pretty certain he didn’t have the quilt.

Plus, the man had been very insistent that Varian was going to catch a chill, fall sick, and drop dead if he didn’t bundle up more.

He thought he had been able to convince the man about the fair distribution of supplies last night. It seemed the man was more stubborn than he'd anticipated.

Varian felt a lump in his throat at the kind gesture.

Stop that. He scolded himself. You were just probably keeping him up with your shivering.

It was something Andrew complained about often enough.

He won’t keep you around if you keep being a burden. The thought was enough to get Varian to fully rise from his blankets. He looked around the small camp for something to do to be useful.

He rolled up the bedroll and folded the blanket with care. He stowed both for travel. The ground was cold and frosty. He was careful to walk quietly on his bare feet.

One of Hector’s bearcats, the female that Hector introduced as Bil clocked him walking about. But she didn’t move from where she sat atop a nearby boulder. He tidied up the camp as much as possible but the two had barely unpacked last night so there was not much to do.

He glanced back at Hector’s sleeping form, with the other bearcat Hjúki sleeping curled up on his lap. The Sun hadn’t yet crested the horizon but there was still plenty of light to see and move around by.

His eyes landed on the clasp on the cloak around the man’s shoulders. Not for the first time, Varian found himself wondering what the relationship between this man and his father had been.

Were they friends? Brothers in arms? Lovers? Business partners? What? They had to have some kind of organization in common. What’s with the matching tattoos? Was his father a mercenary, or some kind of criminal? A pirate perhaps? His working theory was that his dad had saved this man’s life and that’s why he felt like he had to look out for Varian. Some kind of life debt?

He didn’t want to disrupt the man’s sleep, so he wandered away from the camp.

Varian must have woken Ruddiger with his moving around because the raccoon quickly fell in at his side as he wandered away from the camp. He walked to the edge of the clearing they camped in, then past the tree line. Ruddiger ran ahead of him to scavenge. He chittered grumpily at the early awakening.

Varian looked up at a tall tree for a few seconds before he impulsively decided to climb it. He hadn’t really seen a Sunrise in months, and he was excited for the opportunity.

It was the perfect tree for climbing, but Varian still struggled.

His muscles burned with the effort to pull himself up. In the back of his mind, he mourned the strength he once had, back when he could eat his fill and work hard all day long. Only a year ago, a tree like this would have been no challenge to him.

A few more feet up and he was relishing the exertion, he needed to move if he wanted to get that old strength back. And it had been so long since he'd had a satisfying workout.

Eventually, Varian reached the tallest branch that he was confident could hold all his weight and sat to rest. His heart was racing from the exertion and his breath was coming hard and fast.

But when he looked out over the countryside, he knew he had made the right choice.

Varian could see out over everything. He could just barely see the tall towers of the Coronan castle looking so small and distant. They must have been traveling at an upwards elevation yesterday. Seeing it there so far away made him feel warm with relief despite the early morning chill.

He also realized with a rush of delight, that this was the warmest he had felt in months! The Sun was nearly half up from the horizon line, and he could feel its warm gentle light on his face.

He felt tears well up in his eyes. He hadn't realized how much he missed this, being outside, the Sunshine, the greenery, the life!

He heard birds chirping around him again. A wood shrew if he wasn't mistaken. He took several deep breaths both to tap down his heavy breathing and just to relish the sensation of breathing cool outdoor air again.

Ruddiger scurried up the trunk of the tree after him, his buddy nestled on his lap and handed him an edible mushroom and a large root.

There were one or two small raccoon-sized bites taken out of both. Varian didn't care in the least, in fact, he was pleased his best friend was eating.

Hopefully, Ruddiger wouldn't be so skinny for much longer.

Varian had resolved that come hell or high water he was going to get Ruddiger back to his former health. Even if Hector changed his mind about whatever debt he owed his father, and decided Varian was more trouble than he was worth. Even if he left them on the side of the road somewhere, Varian would do whatever he had to, to keep Ruddiger happy and healthy.

He ate the mushroom with small careful bites. Imagine! Being able to eat whenever he wanted!

Varian had wanted to go crazy and eat his fill yesterday, but his new traveling companion had quickly put a stop to that. He had insisted they make frequent short rests to eat small, light meals, accompanied by plenty of water.

Varian knew better to complain. The man would not have packed for an extra human and animal for his trip. Varian was only too well aware of what a drain on resources he was.

Back in Corona, certain guards would lament the cost to keep the prisoners alive in the dungeons. Wishing out loud, that they could all be hanged and to save the citizens the tax burden. After all, why should the virtuous pay so the villainous could eat?

He knew he could not be a burden on Hector, not if he wanted to keep traveling with him. Enjoying his fires and using his supplies. Varian ignored a stab of guilt at the thought of the bedroll again. The man would probably come to his senses soon enough.

With that thought, Varian hid the root away in a pocket in his pants, just in case. If today was the day he was left behind, at least he'd have something to eat tonight.

Varian sighed as the sun rose higher and higher, it felt like the entire world was coming to life with it. It seemed like it would be a warm day, probably one of the few he had left this year. He had been so disappointed when he’d asked, and Hector let him know it was October.

He had missed the harvest! He was almost glad he hadn't thought to inspect the fields before they left Old Corona, he could only imagine the miserable state they were in-

"Varian!" an alarmed shout rang through the peaceful silence of the morning. Varian almost fell off his branch in surprise. The birds stopped chirping, and many took flight.

Hector was awake. Varian could see the entire clearing from where he sat in the tree. The man had dawned his cloak and was looking back and forth around the clearing in his search.

"Varian!" he cried out again, and Varian snapped out of his thoughts. Grownups did not like to be made to wait, and it was too nice a morning to get hollered at.

"Up here!" He called down to the man, waving his arms.

The man scanned the trees, eyes finally landing on Varian.

He walked up to the base of the tree "What are you doing up there, boy?"

Varian shrugged then he realized Hector probably couldn't see it.

"Just watching the Sunrise," he called back down.

Varian braced himself to get scolded for being up a tree, burning daylight like a wool-headed fool.

Instead, Hector sprung up and grabbed a high branch. He hoisted himself up with that same surprising upper body strength he had shown back at the house. He climbed up with shocking ease and ascended the height in a fraction of the time it had taken Varian.

In the space of three breaths, Hector had climbed up and taken a seat right beside Varian on the branch.

"You alright?" Hector asked him. The man still looked tired and bedraggled.

"I'm good." Varian shrugged.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

Hector frowned, seeming displeased.

Varian turned his attention back to the world around them. He could still see the image of the moon faint against the early morning sky.

Their conversations had been like that. Awkward and pausing. The two were still unsure of one another.

Varian was still waiting for the moment when the other shoe dropped, and Hector revealed himself to be cruel like the Captain or uncaring like the princess. Or worse, what if Varian ended up being the one who hurt him? Like his dad.

Yes, no matter what this alliance of theirs would not last.

Best to keep his distance.

"Your father would often rise with the sun," Hector said. "It wasn't common back at home. Especially in our line of work. I would be nocturnal if I could help it."

So much for distance! This man was constantly inviting Varian to bury him in questions!

No. Grownups hate unnecessary questions. Questions were nothing but trouble.

"Sorry to throw you off your rhythm," Varian said instead.

Hector shrugged. "Don't worry ‘bout it. Safer for travel anyway."

Varian nodded. A few moments passed and neither spoke. The birds were chirping louder than before. Somewhere out in the distance, he heard the sound of a rooster crow.

“I can still see Corona from here,” Varian said looking towards the west.

“They won’t catch us,” Hector was quick to reassure him. “We’ve been moving too fast.”

It still felt like the grave dogs were nipping at his heels. “I wonder when I’ll go back.” He mused.

“Could be many years. Don’t go getting homesick on me.”

Varian snorted. “As if.” Then he considered the rest of the man’s words. “Hopefully, it won’t be that long. I intend to come right back as soon as I figure out how to crack the amber.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hector tense and grow more serious.

“Of course.” The man said stiffly.

Varian knew that the man didn’t believe he could do it. No one ever believed in him. Hector was just one in a long line.

Varian just wished it didn’t sting so much.

He shouldn’t be this way. He should be used to it by now. No one in Corona believed in him, even before he became a criminal.

Bitterness replaced the feeling of hurt.

“Besides, I swore anybody who stands or has stood in my path would pay.”

There. Let the man see the depths of his hatred. Let him recoil in disgust.

It’s here that a good guardian would tell him not to seek vengeance, would admonish him for his anger, and try to guide him towards a different path.

“I’ll help you,” Hector said reassuringly. He stroked Ruddiger’s head who chirped in delight. “We'll put the whole island to the torch. Until it’s all a pile of ash.”

Varian blinked. Unlike his earlier response, that one seemed earnest. What a strange man.

Hector gave Varian’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “See how Sunny their palace is when you and I get done with it.” He smiled. “But not for a while, yet. Let’s get going. We’ve got a long way to go today.” And with that Hector dropped from one branch to the next, then the next.

Varian moved to follow at a slower pace. When he finally reached the bottom, he leaned heavily against the trunk of the tree.

He was no longer even surprised to find one of Hector's canteens held out in his face.

A few deep sips and the two sat down for breakfast. Between the mushroom and the nuts and bread Hector gave him, Varian felt the fullest he’d felt in months.

It was laughable, he’d eaten what he once would have considered a light breakfast, and yet his body felt like the night of a Summers Solstice feast.

Hector had carefully portioned out his food. Varian worried about their stores. The man had probably only packed for a single person and his two bearcats.

They finished packing up and broke camp.

There was still plenty of room in Varian’s trunk, so they agreed to stow the rest of Hector’s bag in there as well.

Varian paused when he felt a dull pain in his stomach. Ruddiger wriggled out of his arms and dropped to the ground.

Ruddiger scurried up a cluster of boulders with a small scarlet capsule in hand. He put it in his mouth and leaped off the rock. The raccoon transformed midair and when his paws touched the ground again, he was twelve feet tall.

Varian clapped and laughed. He leaned forward to hug his pal about the face.

Hector looked on in astonishment again, before he shook his head and added the last item to the trunk and fastened the last latch.

Ruddiger dropped down to the ground as low as he could get.

Hector began to hoist up the trunk and Varian rushed to help. Varian breathed heavily as he heaved it up and helped Hector lash it down. He leaned back on Ruddiger as he worked to control his breathing.

Hector jumped on top of the same cluster of boulders Ruddiger was just on, then onto Ruddiger’s back.

He leaned down to offer Varian a hand up. Varian smiled gratefully and reached up.

Suddenly, Varian felt his stomach clench and cramp sharply.

He quickly whirled around and managed to get a few steps away before he dropped down to his knees and emptied his stomach on the ground.

The bile stung his throat, and his eyes and nose were leaking. The cramping in his gut was almost unbearable. And he felt himself sweating all over.

Varian retched over and over before his stomach finally settled down and he could lift his head dizzily.

He wanted to just disappear. He wanted to cry and run away. He wished the ground would just open up and swallow him up.

He dreaded turning around and facing the man again.

He was weak. He was a waste of resources. He couldn’t do anything right. They were already low on food and here was Varian wasting it.

No. He wouldn’t wilt and whinge. He wouldn’t make it worse. He took a deep draw from Hector's canteen to clean his mouth, whipped his face, and straightened his back. He walked back.

Hector's face was solum once again, he reached out. This time Varian grabbed his hand and Hector hoisted him up without a word.

They rode on for hours.

The Sun climbed higher and higher in the sky. The chill and frost from the morning melted away.

They were careful to not approach any of the clusters of civilization along the way. They even avoided the stand-alone farms and homesteads. The two of them stood out far too much and couldn’t have word getting back to Corona.

He watched as the towns and hamlets rose before him, then behind him sank again. The thick forests slowed their pace only slightly. When they came across the open plains, they rode hard and fast.

They took a brief rest after the first few hours, Hector gave him another small snack and encouraged him to drink more.

Varian also ate from the root he had squirreled away from this morning. Hector saw it and frowned heavily but didn’t say a word.

Varian didn’t get that reaction. He was showing he could scavenge for himself- well with Ruddiger’s help, anyway. He’d hoped the man would feel like the burden on him and his supplies had been lessened. Apparently not.

By the second stop of the day, Hector had given him a portion of food again. Varian argued that it wasn’t lunchtime yet, but Hector had simply walked away before he could finish voicing his protest.

He was looking around them, searching the landscape. Looking for Coronans? No, he said that they wouldn’t be able to catch up.

Ruddiger curled up. Varian wanted to unlash the trunk so he could shrink down and rest more comfortably, but he knew this was just a short stop.

Varian forced his muscles to relax. He felt much better after the sickness from this morning. He scouted around for a little while and found a small, wilting apple tree. He grabbed about six apples that didn’t seem too withered and stuffed them into his satchel.

He brought them back to camp and gave one to Hjúki and one to Bil and gave two to Ruddiger.

He was considering if his stomach could take more food when the ground rumbled.

He heard Hector give a cheer over his shoulder.

Varian quickly hid behind a nearby tree, Ruddiger assumed a defensive posture and Hjúki and Bil ran up beside Hector.

The man held his arms out wide. “Nótt!”

An enormous grey beast crested the ridge and ran straight into Hector. The man wrapped his arms around the head of the charging rhinoceros as it pushed him backward several yards. The two bearcats leaped up on top of the huge creature.

The man laughed out loud and dug his feet into the ground and started to push back against the beast, once again Varian was amazed by the man’s strength. He was able to slow the charging beast to a stop and with a grunt of effort and even shift the weight and tip the rhinoceros onto its side.

The two bearcats yelped and jumped off the rhinoceros as it rolled onto its back. Hector, Hjúki, and Bil all leaped on top of the creature in a dog pile as if their combined mass had any hope to keep it down. Hector laughed in triumph and the bearcats yowled in victory.

Varian was amazed by the patience of the creature. The massive rhino could simply roll over and crush all three of them, but took it all in good humor. If anything, it seemed pleased.

He was reminded of some of his old neighbors. The family had four sons and the three of the older ones would often playfully rumble with each other. Varian never understood it. A boy could bloody his brother’s nose and then five minutes later they were plotting to convince their mom to get a new puppy. Varian figured it was just something an only-child couldn’t understand.

He suddenly felt silly hiding behind the tree, so he stepped out towards the group, Ruddiger fell in at his side.

Hector noticed his approach and slid down from the pile. The bearcats also jumped down and the rhino stood up as well.

The creature was huge. He reminded Varian a little bit of the cattle that the local ranchers would run through town, but with more wild energy.

The creature looked at him with intelligence that Varian had never seen in a cow or bull. The single horn on his head was so large. Corona had played host to many traveling menageries over the years, but the rhinos he'd seen those times were much smaller and they lacked the large signature horn. Varian retroactively wondered if they had been being mistreated.

He shook those thoughts away.

“Varian, this is Nótt. He has been my friend for nearly 30 years now.” He said beaming with pride. “Nótt this is Varian, he’s Quirin’s boy, be very careful with him.”

“Hello.” Varian reached into his satchel and withdrew one of his remaining apples. The rhino’s eyes lit up with joy and it leaped up excitedly, making the ground shake again. He held the apple out to the creature, who carefully took it in its mouth. He crunched it down in one bite, and Varian carefully reached out to touch the rhino in the space between his mouth and horn.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I knew the Coronans aren’t used to seeing white rhinos, so I left him a few days out, he must have wandered east in the meantime,” Hector explained.

Varian offered his last apple. Nótt enthusiastically crunched that one down too. The creature took a step closer to nudge Varian who excitedly pet him under his chin and to the side of his face.

Suddenly, Nótt moved forward and nudged him again, Varian stumbled back a few steps and laughed. It was like a gentler version of what the rhino had done to Hector. Nótt repeated the action and this time, Varian fell backward into the dirt.

“Nótt!” Hector barked before Varian could give a breathless laugh. “I said careful!”

Varian cringed away from the angry shout, then he noticed the rhino’s face. He didn’t think he would ever be able to recognize an abashed expression on a rhinoceros’s strange face. The creature's head tilted down towards the ground.

“I’m okay,” Varian assured the both of them, as he stood and dusted off his clothing.

Hector frowned at him, then turned back to Nótt. “Careful.” He said sternly with a raised finger.

Ruddiger chittered in displeasure from over Varian’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was also upset about the rough play or just about being left out.

“Sorry, bud,” Varian said. “This is Ruddiger he’s my best friend. Ruddiger this is Nótt.” The two sized each other up and exchanged polite nods.

“We should get moving,” Hector said. Then looked over towards Ruddiger, “And lucky for you, Pest, Nótt can carry me the rest of the way.”

Ruddiger chirped happily. Varian noticed the saddle on the rhino’s back for the first time. He now understood why Hector was so accustomed to rough rides.

Sure, it wasn’t a monstrous beast born of the might of Alchemy, but riding a rhino was still pretty cool, he had to admit.

“You two better keep up,” Hector told Hjúki and Bil. The two yelped indignantly.

They could not keep up.

After a few hours of the brutal pace that Ruddiger and Nótt had set, the bearcats were falling behind. They wound up resting on the backs of either Ruddiger or Nótt as passengers after less than an hour of trying to keep up at a dead sprint.

The rhino and raccoon wound up racing, seemingly trying to outdo one another for speed and endurance. Varian felt bad for the rhinoceros, Ruddiger had the clear advantage with his longer legs.

They still stopped for their small snacks and water breaks.

Neither of them said it aloud, but they were both determined to get as much distance between them and the Kingdom of Corona as possible.

Varian was sure they were breaking some kind of record for the rate of land travel. The Sun was dipping down, as the evening was approaching. Varian was surprised he had spent nearly the entire day in the saddle and never felt bored.

They were on break when Hector took out a map from the trunk. Varian had been determined to be a good kid and not ask annoying questions. But his feet wandered up on their own and he found himself looking over the man’s shoulder at the map.

When Hector noticed him, he didn’t glare or scold him. In fact, he gave a nod and held the map out for him to see.

“So, we’re here, just passed the range of Mt. Saison.” He pointed to the spot on the map and gestured to the corresponding mountain range in the distance.

“We’re heading northeast. I want to avoid the borders of Equis altogether and make our way towards The Forest of No Return. We'll cut through, then follow the river up towards Koto. We’ll stick to the coast, then cross the mountains into Ingvarr. We’ll stay just south enough to avoid Lumbard’s Pass. Then it’s just a straight shot north towards the Great Tree through the Eastern Wilds.” Hector traced the route along the map with a finger as he spoke.

Varian listened carefully and memorized the route on the map.

“Sound good to you?” Hector asked.

Varian blinked, bewildered. Not only did the man indulge Varian’s curiosity, but he also explained things plainly. He'd even asked for Varian’s input.

“Seems like a good plan to me,” he smiled.

“And how about our pace? Too many hours on the road?” Hector asked rolling up the map again.

When was the last time he felt like he had even the slightest bit of control of the projection of his own life?

Ever since the amber, he had felt like he was still wandering through a raging blizzard, being thrown about by the winds, blinded by the snow, just barely holding on, just barely staying alive.

But now he had a choice. He could slow down or speed up, he could take a different road, he could climb trees.

A warm feeling spread in his chest, a feeling of gratitude. This was the kindest thing the man had done for him yet. Kinder than the food, even kinder than breaking him out of the dungeons.

Even if the man abandoned him on the side of the road tonight, Varian would still always be grateful for this.

“I-” he faltered. “I think our pace is fine. We’re tearing through the countryside.” Varian smiled with pride.

“Yes, we are.” Hector agreed with his own smile. “That pest of yours is really something.”

Varian beamed.

They traveled for a few more hours before the light faded to orange and they selected a small clearing in the thick forest to settle.

They made camp. It was better than last night when they simply unpacked the bare essentials and then dropped off immediately.

Tonight, they stopped and unpacked their supplies. Hector hauled down the trunk and hissed in displeasure when Varian had moved to help.

Varian decided to gather firewood instead. Hjúki and Bil had opted to follow along and help.

The three of them had managed a modest pile by the time that Ruddiger was fully free.

Ruddiger bumped against Nótt playfully. When Nótt went to return the favor, he stumbled as the giant mass of Ruddiger was no longer there to bump into. The giant form shrunk down in a puff of smoke and a flash of light.

Ruddiger laughed and scurried under the rhino’s legs and ran towards Varian and then up onto his shoulders.

Nótt watched in disbelief as the humongous monster he had been racing all day transformed into a tiny raccoon in the flash of an eye.

Varian nuzzled his pal. But Ruddiger still had energy to burn, so he leaped down once again, and took off into the woods to forage.

Hector built a fire and collected water from a nearby stream. The two of them ate a cold meal of bread, hard cheese, and nuts.

Ruddiger continued to make journeys to and from the camp to return with his findings.

He brought more mushrooms, edible roots, some sweet purple berries, and healing herbs. So many herbs that Varian wondered if his pal hadn’t actually stumbled on some poor farmer’s herb garden.

He had enough bimberries, ginger, and feverfew to treat everyone in Old Corona during a particularly long winter.

Varian sorted them and sealed the herbs and berries in corked glass containers to preserve them. He put the mushrooms in his pockets with his other squirreled away food.

Hector produced a brush from his bag and started brushing away at his bearcat’s fur. The hard man had a soft expression on his face as he completed the peaceful activity.

The two sat in companionable silence for a time, enjoying the heat of the fire. Varian with his sorting and cataloging and Hector with his brushing.

Nótt snorted content and settled in as well. Varian looked over to the rhino, the bearcats, and then back to Hector curiously.

Varian still harbored a measure of fear of the man. Hector did hurt him after all. Plus, he watched him dispatch a royal guard with just one hand.

Still, watching Hector spend an hour brushing his bearcats was pretty precious, and took the edges off him, somewhat. Varian gathered his courage.

“What under the Sun is going on with the fauna where you’re from?” he asked before he could think better of it.

Hector stopped the brushing and looked up as if he were surprised to hear Varian’s voice.

“Bearcats are common enough in Selene. They’re in nearly any forest. These two were from the southeastern forests where I am from.” He said patting Bil.

“But rhinoceros, elephants, zebra, and even hippopotamus have a massive sanctuary home far to the North. It’s ranged and taken care of by the ancient house, Byrgius. I did a favor for the High Lord and King Edmond agreed to allow me to ‘bring home a friend.’ Don’t think he realized what I meant. I heard he and Adira had been planning a betrothal feast. You should have seen his face when I walked through the Obsidian Gates of Castle Umbra with a rhino calf.” He said smiling at the memory.

What is Selene? Where is Selene? Is that where we’re going? You have elephants, zebras, and hippos too? High lord? Ancient House? What is the nature of the feudal system there? Who is Byrgius? Who is King Edmond? Who is Adira(again)? Who are you that a King would throw you a betrothal feast? What is Castle Umbra? Where is it? Is that where you live? Is that where we’re going? How did you care for a rhino calf? How-

Varian instead forced a smile to his face. “Ruddiger kept coming back over and over again before Dad finally threw up his hands and let him be the family pet.”

Hector snorted. “Make sure you tell King Edmond that. Quirin was my best ally in persuading him to let me keep my animal companions.”

Varian once again forced himself not to ask his annoying questions. Instead, he unpacked their sleeping supplies from the trunk. He handed the quilt off to Hector and turned around before the man had a chance to argue with him again.

Varian spread out the bedroll and settled in. He took out a length of twine from his satchel and started weaving the lengths together. It was a simple weave. The type children used to make friendship bracelets for one another. Seemed appropriate for Ruddiger. He took a thin needle and thread from the small patch kit he packed and ran them through the capsules that Ruddiger kept in his pouch. Then he threaded them through the twine-woven collar. Each pill was like a bright shining jewel on the collar. All six of them.

Varian frowned. Only six.

“Here you go, buddy,” Varian said presenting the collar to Ruddiger. He showed him how to tie and untie the knot. Then Ruddiger demonstrated he could put it on and take it off. “It’s only twine. So, make sure to take it off before you change.”

Ruddiger chittered in understanding.

“It might make them easier to carry. And you can still change whenever you want.”

“How’s that work?” It was Varian’s turn to be surprised to hear Hector’s voice.

“Does it go a certain amount of time? Can he change at will?” Hector had stopped his brushing.

Grownups usually demanded rather than ask but Hector seemed genuinely curious.

“It will only last 12 hours at most. I do have an antidote to make it wear off immediately. He does seem to be aware of when the change is about to come over him.”

“Is it painful?” Hector asked, watching him over the fire.

“I don’t know,” he dropped his gaze. “He seemed uncomfortable with it at first. Scared. I would never have given it to him if I had known. But now he’s used to it, even chooses it for himself.”

Hector blinked, face neutral. “’Must have been difficult," was all he said, and Varian felt the sudden need to defend himself.

“I would never have used it if I had thought it would be dangerous! I tested it on myself several times before I let Ruddiger near it! Plus, I only used ingredients safe for raccoons! All of my inventions are! I only made that adhesive trap I used on you back in the house, because I refused to let dad use a normal pest trap.”

“Easy now, Kid, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Hector said lifting his hands placatively.

Varian blushed at his outburst. It didn’t seem there was a need to be defensive after all.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“So, the sticky stuff was a pest trap, not a weapon?” Hector asked conversationally rather than acknowledging the apology.

“Yes, though the first one to fall for it was the princess Rapunzel and not Ruddiger.” Varian found that funny.

“Then, I'm just glad to hear I was not the first,” Hector said, also smiling with amusement.

“Perhaps I should call it ‘Rapunzelium’.” He pondered out loud.

“Too long.”

“'Zelium?”

“What about the 'Zelium?" Hector asked. "If you did manage to slip away from me back at the house, how long would you have left me glued to the floor?”

“It would usually last six hours. Though, I'm pretty sure I could brew it to last up to eight.”

Hector let out a low whistle, impressed.

Varian smiled at the man in appreciation and looked into his strange reflective eyes. They seemed to glow in the dim light like Ruddiger’s. He wondered how he looked to the man. Did he have perfect night vision? Can he make out colors?

Varian bit back the questions once again.

Instead, he yawned and settled into the bedroll, and curled up small. Ruddiger curled up beside him and began to snooze immediately. He had more than earned the long rest. He hoped he wasn't pushing his friend too hard.

He turned his back to the fire and stared off into the dark woods.

"What's the best thing you've ever made?" Hector asked his voice softer than before. Varian could tell from the sound of his voice that Hector had also laid down and was staring up at the stars.

"My lights." Varian yawned again. "Too late in the season for fireflies. Used to watch them. Bioluminescence… like magic."

Was he even making sense? Why was he still talking and not sleeping already?

One more yawn.

His eyes had drooped closed of their own accord.

“Fireflies… never lost in the dark...”

Chapter Text

——————☽☉☾——————

Varian woke up back at home.

The wind was pounding on the old panes of glass of the windows. He had a fierce crick in his neck, and his back and his whole right side was numb and sore.

His eyes shot open.

He had fallen asleep at the foot of the amber pillar. Finally dropped off.

He sprang up to his feet and stretched. He couldn’t be too surprised. He had been going and going for… many hours. He did not know exactly how many.

Still. It didn’t feel right. His dad’s life hung in the balance, and he was snoozing away.

He shook off the last remaining vestiges of sleep.

The bone-deep pain, guilt, and shame flooded him with enough adrenaline to keep him going.

He took a few long draws of water from the bucket he had in the lab. He was splashing the water on his face when he heard the sudden sharp bang of his front door slamming open and impacting against the wall.

Varian dropped the bucket, the water sloshed down onto the floor.

“Princess?” Had she finally come to help him? Or was it one of the other villagers?

He felt hope rise in him, and he rushed towards the front room.

His feet skidded to a halt at the doorway of his lab.

Eight men. Strangers. All in masks. All carrying weapons.

They were spread out searching the place.

“Wha— hello?” Varian said in a faltering voice.

The masked man at the door’s head snapped over to him.

“There he is!” the man barked. “Get him!”

Was that the Captain’s voice? Cassie’s dad?

The thoughts came unhelpfully, as two of the masked men began to advance on him.

What was going on? Were they sent to help him? Why were they hiding their faces? Why did they have weapons? And why was every instinct in his body screaming at him to run?

They were two arm lengths away when Varian finally gave in to those instincts. He spun on his heels. Reaching out for the door. If he closed and barred it in time, it might buy him just enough time to pry open the trap door and drop down into the tunnels under the house and—

CRACK!

A sharp pain laced across his head.

Varian’s ears rang. He distantly noted that he had fallen to the floor, right in the puddle of water he spilled from the bucket.

His head stung with a fierce sharp pain.  A hand in an armored gauntlet had wrapped around his arm and was hoisting him up.

He saw the other armored hand curl into a tight fist and draw back and—

“No!”

——————☽⬤☾——————

Varian sat up straight. His breaths were coming hard and fast.

Varian struggled to restrain his breathing, calm his racing heart, and chase away the panic forcing his body to tense.

It wasn’t working.

Varian stood up from his bedroll.

Absently, he noticed the quilt had found its way over on to him in the night again.

He took off in a random direction.

Varian wandered. Where he did not know. But as he went, he came back to himself more and more.

He felt like he was out in a raging storm again. Lost, scared, more running away than he was towards a specific destination.

Varian shivered, he wasn’t sure if it was from the memory of the blizzard or the nightmare.

He squeezed his eyes as tight as they would go and focused on the sounds and sensations all around him. The birds, the early morning air, the cold dirt under his bare feet.

He opened them up and took in his surroundings. He’d walked a fair distance from camp.

He slid down the trunk of the nearby tree and tried to sort out his racing thoughts.

He jolted in shock when a shadow crossed over him.

“There you are!” Hector’s angry voice cut through his malaise.

“What?” Varian looked up at the man standing above him.

“Didn’t you hear me calling for you?” Hector asked him sternly.

“Sorry. I—” Varian cut off, dropping his gaze. “I didn’t hear you.”

Varian heard rather than saw as Hector let out a sigh and then sat on the forest floor before him.

“Are you alright?” he asked with a more calm and controlled voice.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you run?”

It was a short and simple question. Varian considered how honest he really ought to be with this man.

“I had a nightmare.” He picked at the fraying end of his pant leg.

“I see,” Hector said and paused for a moment. “And were you still under the veil of the dream when you ran? You had not yet awakened?”

Varian’s brows knit together, and he kept yanking at one of the loose threads of his pant. “Not really. I ran because I wanted to be alone to get ahold of myself.” He smiled wryly. “No need to wake anyone with my hysterics.”

“Varian, look at me.”

Varian obeyed.

The man had a perturbed look on his face, but he no longer looked angry, only concerned. He watched as the man examined him, seemingly searching for something.

“You have to tell me when you go places.” Hector declared abruptly.

Varian did not know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“What?”

“This thing you’ve been doing where you wander out of the camp without a word? Or I wake up and you’ve vanished? Knock it off, you’re giving me gray hairs.”

Varian’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“So that I can know where you are,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“Why do you care?”

“These woods are dangerous. You could get hurt or killed out here.”

“Then that would be my fault.” Varian shrugged stiffly. “You don’t have to look out for me.”

“Of course, I do.” He said with a humorless twist of his lips as if Varian’s words were absurd.

“No, you don’t!” Varian’s temper flared. “I was on my own for months after I lost my dad!”

“And look at what became of you!” Hector’s voice rose to challenge Varian’s.

Varian was struck silent for a moment.

“Well, I’m sorry! Sorry I’ve been so weak and pathetic that you think I’m going to drop dead if I’m not under your direct supervision!” Varian took a breath and when he spoke again his voice was no longer shouting but still heated.

“But I am getting better. And I’m telling you now: Absolve yourself of this sense of responsibility for my wellbeing. Bad stuff will happen to me no matter who is watching over me.”

Hector’s eyes were wide. He seemed shocked into silence, so Varian went on.

“And I’ve had enough embarrassment over my nightmares for one lifetime. If I want to deal with them alone I will.” His voice was just sad and resolute at this point.

Another silence stretched between them.

Hector sighed for the third time and ran a hand through his hair.

“I do not think you are weak,” the man said firmly. “And I’m not going to judge you if you have a nightmare. What I’m suggesting here is literally just travel safety basics.”

Varian felt like some of his anger was draining away. Why did he have to get angry so often?

“Even my father didn’t make me tell him every single place I would go.” He argued. “I’m fourteen. I’m not a child who needs constant minding.”

“It has nothing to do with— I’m not treating you like a child.” Hector’s voice was soft, and his words were careful. “A long time ago, your father, Adira, and I would have to travel far distances together. When we camped together, we would always check in with one another. Nothing major. Just a quick ‘Gonna get wood, traveling north, be back in ten.’ just in case something went wrong.”

“Really?” Varian asked before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” Hector said. “Please, Varian, simply for my peace of mind.”

Varian looked at Hector’s face, trying to detect any of the things he feared. Impatience, condescension, fear, duplicity, disdain. But no, it seemed like he was being genuine. Varian knew he was losing ground and heaved a sigh.

“Okay.” he finally gave up.

“Thank you,” Hector said satisfied, rising to his feet.

“And sorry,” Varian added, looking away. “For making you worry and being difficult.”

“Difficult?” Hector chuckled. “You are by far the most agreeable traveling companion I’ve ever had. Including your father. The two of us were usually good for at least one screaming match per trip. I probably would have come to blows several times with Adira by this point.”

Varian chuckled.

“Come on, now.” Hector held out a hand to hoist him up.

Varian ignored the hand and stood on his own, brushing off his clothes.

He barely caught a hurt expression as it crossed the man’s face before he turned around with a shrug.

“Let’s get some breakfast and head out,” Hector said leading them back to their camp.

The two ate their small breakfast in silence and headed out for another day on the road.

It was a blessedly unseasonably warm October day. The morning had been chilly but as the hours trickled by, the Sun rose higher, and it got warmer.

Varian didn’t want to test the new house rule he had agreed to this morning. So instead of wandering around the next place that they stopped to explore and forage, Varian dug through the trunk lashed on Ruddiger.

He examined what all he had. His basic gear, a generous supply of empty glassware, raw ingredients, a small supply of machine parts for simple devices, a rough chunk of Cassandrite, and all that Ruddiger had foraged from the woods. And tucked away in layers and layers of soft wool, linen, and then leather was a tiny vial of Varianium.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling a bit exposed without his usual bag of tricks. He had some Flynnolium, only two remaining sticky bombs— Zelium, a little bit of knock-out powder— (Ariannium?), and a single sad old flash bang that he couldn’t even be sure was still active.

He wondered how he would bring this up to his traveling companion. ‘Hey, Mister Hector, Sir! Mind if we take a slight detour so I can make chemical weapons?’

Yeah, that would go over well.

“Come now, Varian and Vermin,” Hector called out from where he was already mounted up on Nótt. “Let’s move eastward. I want to hit the River Saison before noon.”

“Varian and Ver— Hey!” Varian objected.

They rode on for a few more hours. By the time they stopped again, the sun was almost directly overhead in the sky, and they had reached the river Saison.

They all stopped and drank heavily from the river. Hector filled all his canteens.

“Welp,” Hector said unclipping his cloak. “This’ll probably be the last warm day of the year we are gonna to get.”

“I sure hope not,” Varian said between gulps of water.

“We ought to make the most of it while we can,” Hector said as he took a fresh set of clothes from his bag along with a grey clump of soap.

“Good idea!” Varian said as he felt a smile spread across his face. He could hardly remember the last time he had felt anything close to clean.

He hadn’t been the most attentive to his hygiene in those days right after his dad was encased, and the dungeons were some of the foulest, most disgusting places a human could exist in. To the guards, a bath was a cold bucket of water splashed on you. It was no wonder there was so much grippe around that place.

Varian was excited. He ran back to Ruddiger to fetch his ratty old cloak to dry off with, and a vial of his soap. He was careful not to grab the more caustic detergent he used for his dish scrubber and floor cleaner.

Hector was already in the river, submerged up to his stomach. Varian could make out a latticework of old scars crisscrossing the man’s back.

His steps faltered and he halted as he came to the river’s edge.

It wasn’t that Varian was uncomfortable with nudity. Far from it. People of his social strata simply did not get the luxury of modesty.

He had probably bathed in the river with every member of his village. He’d helped elders climb in and out of the river, so they would not slip. He’d held squirming kids still as their mothers washed their hair and attended to their other children. Even the most distant villagers would wash each other’s backs while bathing. All the boys in the village would race each other to the waterfall, swimming upstream. All while naked.

All that to say: Varian was not shy.

But he still hesitated. He did not like to think about how skinny he’d become, protruding ribs and knobby knees.

Eventually, his desire to be clean again won out over his trepidation.

He shucked his threadbare prison pants carefully. He saw Hjúki and Bil leap into the river then paddle back to the bank, climb out, and chase one another around a bit before repeating the process. Varian swallowed and shucked the rest of his clothes.

He saw Hector turn to him and take in his overall appearance. Varian looked away and rushed into the river, pointedly not looking at Hector. He did not need the mental image of Hector's face twisting in disgust.

He busied himself with his own cleaning. He had a cleanser for his body and hair, scented like mint and lavender. It was one of the few alchemical concoctions his father could have whipped up in a pinch. It was something his mom made, and his dad adapted even after her passing.

Varian lathered up his hair and rinsed it. He sighed in relief. He didn’t even care how cold the water was. It was so refreshing.

And when he cast a glance back at Hector again, he saw the man unraveling the braids to better wash out his hair.

Varian sighed in relief and lathered up his own hair again.

Hector was glad they were bathing.

This morning he’d sat up close to Varian and caught a whiff of stale-unwashed teenage boy and immediately made it a priority.

But he was glad for another reason: He now had a far better idea of his nephew’s poor physical condition. It was no wonder the boy was so low energy, poorly, and taken to strange moods.

The Brotherhood had been given many an unenviable task in the final days of Selene before the fall. But among the worst was when they liberated a village in the Inghirami Valley, it had been completely surrounded by the black rocks and its people were trapped and starving.

Hector had never witnessed such human suffering until the day that they found a way to build a structure they could use to lift the citizens over the barricade of black rocks. The citizens were all protruding ribs and delirious chatter. Starved and dehydrated.

One man refused to leave without a sack of bones that he kept clutched close to his chest. Hector didn’t care to speculate why they were hollowed.

 Varian wasn’t that bad, but anything that harkened back to those days was well past the borderline of unacceptable.

As soon as Varian was no longer in danger of dying of refeeding syndrome, he was going to get so much food.

But not yet. For now, He needed to be very careful. Varian was still shaky like a foal and Hector needed to monitor his food intake.

Hector was disturbed, and worse he was angry.  

How it galled him to see Quirin’s son reduced to this! Hector’s own family!

He cast another look over at the boy. He was smiling as he scrubbed away the dirt and grime. His hair was pure white with that fragrant soap of his.

Varian disappeared under the surface of the water and emerged again.

Hector ran a hand through his hair enjoying the feeling of having it loose from its braids for a time. He’d need a haircut soon.

He wondered if Varian would need one too. He turned back towards the teen only to feel like he had been punched in the gut.

He closed the distance between them and grabbed hold of the bright streak of blue to examine it closer.

“Hey!” Varian protested.

“Oh. Oops.” Hector was always breaking rules of decorum and propriety. His decades of isolation had done him no favors in that regard.

He released the lock of hair and stepped back to look at Varian.

“You were born with that,” Hector said. He hoped it sounded like a question and not an accusation.

Varian put a hand up to feel the lock as if Hector had yanked on it or something.

“Yes, I was?” he said confused.

“Stars, if I had seen that I would have immediately known who you were,” Hector said more to himself than to the teen. “As if your eyes and face weren’t enough…” he trailed off disgusted with himself all over again.

“Wait. You know what this is? What it means?” Varian asked, eyes lit up with excitement. “Dad would never tell me.”

No, of course not. Hector almost wished he had his brother out of the amber just so he could throttle him. What a disgrace, leaving his son to wander blindly through the night like this.

He sighed. “It means you are moon-touched.”

Varian blinked at him, still confused.

“Those who experience prolonged exposure to the power of the Moonstone see certain physical changes. I’m sure you’ve noticed that your father and I are stronger and larger than most men, yes?”

Varian nodded.

“This is the most common change. The scholars and scientists of House Kepler called it ‘mutation,’ and we of the Brotherhood of Darkness called it a Moon’s blessing. Most just call it being moon-touched.”

“It made you and Dad stronger, but it also changed my hair?” Varian was still at a loss.

“Yes, almost every Dark King who’s sat on the Starlight Throne has been affected. But often servants and other occupants of the castle, where the Moonstone resides, experienced superficial changes as well. Often those people with less direct exposure saw strange pigmentation of the hair and eyes, even birthmarks.” He explained indicating the boy’s eyes and hair again.

Varian said nothing so Hector continued.

“I teased Adira that the job was too stressful for her when touches of silver began showing in her dark brown hair, it was totally white within the year.” He hastened to add. “She got her revenge when my eyes began to change.”

“What does it mean? Are their health implications?” he asked concerned.

“Can be. Most Dark Kings and Queens and members of the Brotherhood live well into their second century. But most with the superficial touches don’t see any such benefits. Sorry to say.”

“How could I have been affected?” He seemed incredulous. “I’ve never even been to… Selene?”

“The effects can be hereditary. When the first Queen Devona was banished, they say three generations of her descendants were still touched by the Moon. Though, that could have just been propaganda…” he trailed off in contemplation.

“We mostly have the royal line to go on. Members of the Dark Brotherhood very seldom had children. In fact, I believe you’d be the first Son of Darkness in over three centuries.” He smiled at the thought.

“What does that mean?” Varian asked, clearly frightened.

“Calm down,” Hector said trying to be reassuring. “It’s a good thing. An excellent omen.”

Moon-touched. Son of Darkness. Blood of his brother. Child prodigy.

Hector looked back at Varian and wondered how he was even real.

Varian got that look on his face again like he was going to burst open with questions, but he tampered down on them for whatever reason.  

Hector wished he would just ask. The boy was going to give himself a stroke at this rate.

He’d given him plenty of openings: The Moonstone, the Starlight Throne, the Dark Brotherhood.

He deliberately did not mention that Quirin was probably much older than the boy had thought he was. Closer to sixty than thirty as Varian probably assumed.

Varian was still holding the hair in his fingers in contemplation.

“Why was mine something lame like a hair discoloration?” Varian asked frustrated.

Hector’s smile froze. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I wish I could have been like you.” He said sounding embarrassed. “Tapetum lucidum, right? Like Ruddiger has. I wondered how you were able to cross the countryside in the dead of night with no torch—”

Monster eyes! Freak! Beast Blood!

 “—so cool, I’m honestly really jealous.” Varian smiled up at him.

Did he know? Did he really just clumsily stumble into that bramble patch? The most deeply held insecurity in Hector’s heart. Even as a member of the Brotherhood of Darkness, Hector had been unable to escape the stigma and fear from his bizarre mutation.

When Quirin had become taller and stronger it was hailed as a good omen, to be expected of the noble-hearted leader of the Brotherhood. Adira’s hair faded to white was also perceived favorably. A physical reflection of her pure heart, it had been said.

Hector’s eyes made him unsettling to some, and an outright abomination to others.

Even before the Moonstone changed him, many thought him a poor choice for the position. They called him too wild for the highest religious office in the land. Too unstable for the greatest honor a warrior could hope to attain.

Then, once the change came over him, it was viewed as validation. Lord Stevinus, Lord Tycho, and even Lord Copernicus called for him to be removed from the Brotherhood.

Quirin had stood up for him then. Edmond too. And Hector worked twice as hard as his siblings to always walk in Starlight. To always pray to the Moon and Stars, even when they were out of sight.

Even still, any person who saw him in the night would freeze in fear, all but his family were unnerved and frightened to be pinned by his gaze. And now here was Varian, looking up at him in open admiration.

Hector cleared his throat to try to hide that he was becoming choked up.  

“Yeah, they’re okay.”

With that, he turned away and finished rinsing his hair out. Varian took the cue that the conversation was over for now and continued to wash as well.

Up until that moment, Hector had been able to avoid rushes of affection and sentimentality. He had been far too focused on their abrupt flight and all the various ways he was failing.

He hadn’t felt the pull of paternal instincts in decades. Since Nótt was just a calf.

But he looked over at Varian pulling himself out of the river and he knew if it were in his power, he would give this boy the world.

Varian dried himself with the ratty old cloak he brought along and reached for the same filthy prison clothes he had been wearing for who knows how long.

Forget the world. You can’t even give him warm dry clothing! The boy needs new clothes. The boy needs new boots!

Why did the fool boy pack hundreds of empty glass containers and the parts to make an automatic dish scrubber but not proper clothing? Some lunacy about not stealing from his father?

But no. No. He was the child. Hector was the adult. He should have supervised his packing.

It was infuriating. Quirin worked for years to provide for this boy and Hector couldn’t even keep him properly clothed! He was a Son of Darkness for Star's sake! Was the world truly so mad that they were reduced to such?

King Horace would slap him across the face if he could see them now. Quirin would probably never speak to him again. After he spoke the words to have him laicized.

Stars. Latent parental instincts were going to be the death of him.

“Hold on,” Hector ordered. “Don’t put that back on without washing it first. Take my clean shirt and we’ll wash all our clothes.”

Varian looked like he was going to argue but Hector cut him off before he got the chance.

“At this rate you are going to get a rash, get an infection, and drop dead. Take my spare shirt for a bit. We’ll wash everything.”

Varian still looked hesitant. He was so agreeable about everything that was not his own well-being. Hector groused.

Eventually, he agreed and pulled on Hector’s shirt. It was the simple light cotton he wore under his black gambeson layer. It came down to his knees and the short sleeves reached past his elbows.

Hector had followed suit and yanked on his clean trousers. It felt strange to not be under the protective layer of his gambeson armor during the day for the first time in so long.

He gathered up his clothes and cringed as he gathered up Varian’s as well.

Oh well, guardianship wasn’t all climbing trees and heart-to-hearts under the Stars.

Varian seemed embarrassed. He dug through the trunk that poor Ruddiger still had lashed on and withdrew another vial.

“For the clothes,” he explained. And with that, the two set to work scrubbing the clothes and ringing them out and placing them on rocks in the sun to dry.

He had to take extra care with Varian’s clothes. They were in danger of unraveling or dissolving if given a proper scrubbing, but Hector still did his best. And Varian was dutifully helping at his side.

“Do you think we could visit a town?” Varian asked as he wrung out his prison-issued tunic.

“Sure. If this whole experience has taught us anything it’s that you need some new clothes.”

Varian nodded in agreement, accepting the next item of clothing from Hector.

“In fact, it might be better to throw these away and just have you wear my spare set until we do reach civilization.” Hector offered.

Varian objected to that idea, naturally.

Either way, they probably shouldn’t be sleeping in their clothes so much. Hector kicked himself for setting a bad example. After all, he had been sleeping in his gambeson throughout most of his travels. It was just an old habit.

 “We will need to stock up on supplies. Food, clothes, another bed roll, blanket, canteen, maybe a tent…” He trailed off in thought.

 “Can we go somewhere with an apothecary?” Varian asked.

 “Ah, sure,” Hector answered him easily. “That could be arranged.”

The nearest city was Vardaros. And as much as Hector loathed to go there, it would have all the amenities of a normal big city.

“What do you need from the apothecary, anyway?” he asked conversationally. It’s important for guardians to take interest in their charge’s passions, right? He thought he had heard that somewhere.

“More of the stuff to make the Ruddigerium— er the chemical that transforms Ruddiger.” He explained. “Right now, he only has five left.”

“Oh,” Hector said in understanding. “Yeah, that would slow us down quite a bit.” He was pretty sure Nótt could handle both of them and the trunk, but it would be much slower.

“I also want to restock some of my stores of my other stuff,” Varian said wringing out Hector's undershirt, seemingly avoiding looking at Hector.

“Like what?”

“Well… I usually like to carry around some knockout gas. More of the ‘Zelium. Couple flash-bangs. Things like that. So…” Varian broke off, still pointedly looking away. As if he thought Hector was going to scold him or something.

“So, you also want to stop so you can make chemical weapons?” Hector asked him carefully.

“Uh. Basically.” Varian answered sounding vaguely guilty.

Hector shrugged “Sounds good me.”

Varian relaxed and smiled in relief.

Hector wondered about that.

Would Quirin have said no? Is that why he was acting like that? Who in their right mind would deny a crafter the tools of their craft? Plus, he was a very skilled alchemist even at his young age. He clearly knew what he was doing. He almost toppled an entire kingdom after all.

“But you know you don’t really need all that stuff, right?” Hector added, taking the shirt from Varian to drape over a nearby branch to dry.

Varian seemed confused. “But you told me it was dangerous out here.”

“Well yeah, but that’s what you have me for.” He said simply.

Varian looked at him as if he was speaking a different language all of a sudden.

Hector felt a wave of sympathy. How long has it been since this kid could rely on any kind of authority figure? Just another sin he put at the feet of the Coronans.

It was going to be a long process to get Varian to actually trust him. But he’d get there eventually. He knew he would.

Varian cleared his throat. “In any event, I also want to get more of the stuff for my staff. I’ve only got about 12 hours of light left on that one.”

“No problem.” Hector agreed easily, letting the previous topic drop. “So, we have a new destination in mind. We’re gonna take a quick detour to Vardaros to stock up for the trip, then shoot up north towards the Forest of No Return and continue our way east to Koto.” Hector said out loud recounting the route.

“Sound like a plan?” he asked.

Varian’s face lit up as he nodded in agreement.

It took some convincing, but eventually Varian agreed to take the rest of the day resting beside the river. They agreed to get an early start the following day and ride all day to Vardaros.

Hector had hoped that Varian would take the opportunity to actually rest, but of course, that was not to be.

Varian almost at once got to work on his alchemy. He rolled up the sleeves of Hector’s shirt further, pulled his cracked safety goggles over his eyes, and slipped on his gloves. As he worked, his face twisted in focus as he swirled a purple liquid in a glass beaker.

Ruddiger, finally unlashed from the trunk, took his own dip in the river. After that, Hector conscripted the giant’s help to gather wood for the fire.

They were far enough away from the Kingdom of Corona that Hector felt safe building up a larger fire. It was that time of the year that the weather could be warm at the height of noon but by the evening the temperature would drop sharply.

When the two of them arrived back, Varian had made a mess of the camp. He had beakers, test tubes, components, and chemicals scattered all around him.

Once the fire was going, Varian got to work brewing a strange green potion that he added to the purple mixture from before. The small glass flask glowed blue for a moment then settled into a mundane blue color.

Hector whistled low and impressed.

Varian flushed a bit.  “It’s just a simple fever breaker.” He explained corking the small flask and moving on to the next one. Once again, he added the green to the purple, it glowed, and he corked it and set it aside.

“Is it magic?” Hector asked.

“I do not work with magic!” Varian declared. “Magic is erratic and unreliable.”

“Are you telling me that there’s no magic involved with the Ruddigerium or that truth serum?”

Varian considered that. “Well, magic manipulated through the scientific method isn’t as bad.” He granted. It seemed like the concession was almost painful for him to make.

“I see.” Hector laughed.

“But no these are pure alchemy.” He explained corking the next flask.

“You planning to get really sick anytime soon? That’s a lot of medicine.”

“Oh, no,” Varian said not looking up from his work. “I’m gonna sell these when we get to Vardaros. I’m also gonna make a bunch of poultices and salves and a few tonics and potions too.”

“Why?”

“Alchemy ain’t cheap.” Varian shrugged, corking another flask.

That was something Hector had not considered before. He wasn't remotely concerned about hunting and providing for another person and animal. But the supplies Varian would need for his alchemy were something Hector had no frame of reference for.

How expensive would that be? He supposed he should just be honored to have the crafter in his clan. And besides, Varian seemed to have it well in hand this time. He’d let him pay for this one so Hector could get an idea of the costs before he took over the expense.

Hector left the teen to his work and yanked the saddle off Nótt. The rhino snorted appreciatively and rolled around in the mud by the river.

Varian finished his potions and concoctions and set them aside. Ruddiger was already curled up and snoring peacefully by the fire.

The two of them would break out into sporadic easy conversation, but for the most part, Varian was absorbed in his tasks.

Hector asked about what he was doing, and Varian explained his process extensively.

Hector tried to follow along as best as he could but found himself lost for the most part.

At one point Varian seemed to be done with the potions and his hands fidgeted uneasily for something to do. He cast a glance over to where Nótt was grazing by the outskirts of the clearing and then at the saddle that Hector had placed on the ground. A strange expression came over his face and he withdrew a piece of parchment and charcoal from the trunk. He began sketching.

Hector watched in amazement as Varian sketched out a detailed drawing of a saddle of the same design that Hector had for Nótt. It included a diagram on how it would fit Ruddiger complete with dimensions, annotations, and calculations.

Once again, he wondered how someone so gifted could have come from Quirin's stock. Must have been all his mother.

Varian was focusing intently on the drawing. He still absently answered Hector's questions as he asked them. He reached up and scratched his cheek only to leave a black smudge from the charcoal behind. He was so absorbed in his work he didn’t even notice.

At some point Hector made him take a break to eat dinner, and once again he carefully monitored the boy's eating.  

Varian ate quickly like he was scared someone was going to take his food away from him. Once again, Hector noticed when Varian squirreled some away. Hector knows the habit all too well. One does that when they are not certain they will get a next meal.

It was just another troubling behavior that Varian had picked up in prison, Hector simply told himself this would change with time.  

The boy was so distressed about his food, and yet he had still found it in his heart to share his apples with Nótt. That might have been the single most endearing thing that Varian had done. He was glad that Varian had been so absorbed in meeting the rhinoceros, had he looked up and seen Hector’s face he would have seen him tearing up at the kind gesture.

Hector insisted that Varian drink more water and Varian simply accepted his canteen thoughtlessly as he worked.

The light was disappearing in the sky, and Hector kept the fire going.

Eventually, Varian straightened his back and held up his design in triumph. "Check it out!" Varian said offering the parchment for Hector to see.

“Impressive," he said, with no small amount of pride. "I'm sure we'll find a skilled tanner or leatherworker in Vardaros who can make it for you."

"You really think so?" Varian asked excitedly.

"Sure, the place might be an absolute midden heap, but it’s a big enough city that it probably has nearly any kind of tradesman you could imagine."

"That's right," Varian said carefully packing his design away in the trunk and withdrawing their sleeping stuff. "I've heard stories about Vardaros. Is it as bad as they say it is?"

Hector shrugged. "I've only been once in my youth and then again when I was traveling down to Corona, a few weeks ago. Both occasions, I didn’t stay long."

Varian hummed his understanding. "I've never been out of Corona before. I'm glad to get away, but I am a bit nervous to see the rest of the world." He admitted.

"I'm afraid I am not particularly well traveled. I had few occasions to leave Selene throughout my life."

Hector watched as Varian bit down on his lower lip again.

"For Starlight's sake, Boy, just ask!" Hector said without thinking.

So much for letting Varian come around in his own time.

"I— Sorry. I didn't want to bother you." Varian said looking down again.

“Look at me.” Hector waited for Varian’s eyes to meet his own.

“It is not a bother,” Hector said wishing he knew how to be more reassuring. "I like talking about my home. If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them."

Varian examined him for a moment as if trying to determine if Hector was trying to trick him.

"What is Selene?"

"Selene is my home and your ancestral homeland through both your parents. It is located at the most northeastern point of the continent. And referred to by many as The Dark Kingdom."

Varian’s eyes widened. "My mom and dad were from the Dark Kingdom? Most people say it's not even a real place."

"Oh, it’s a real place alright." Hector felt the annoyance creep in. "Granted, it is isolated, due to the mountains and the Great Tree that make up its natural land border. But it's a large nation. Not as big as Ingvarr or Bayangor but bigger than Equis and Pitsford and maybe even Koto depending on where that border lays these days."

“I see,” Varian said. “Most maps I have seen in Corona end at Lumbard’s pass and the Eastern Wilds.”

“Not surprised. Many academic types consider it empty arid land at best and a cursed forsaken land at worst.” Hector explained. “That’s why outsiders first started to refer to it as ‘The Dark Kingdom’ in the first place. They feared that to speak its name would be to invite the curse upon themselves.” He said with an eye roll.

“Is it like that?” Varian asked carefully. “No offense, I just mean, obviously no one’s really living there now.”

 “It is indeed,” Hector answered, resigned. “It was a far more concentrated and advanced form of the curse that reached you in Corona.”

Varian gasped. “Wait. What!?”

 “The curse of the black rocks originated from the Moonstone. It’s housed in the capital and spread out across the continent. And beyond.”

Varian looked grave. “I assume my dad knew about all this?”

“He did.” Hector said with no small amount of sympathy.

Varian nodded for him to continue, but he looked like he was going to throw up again.

“The Moonstone also brought with it a plague, decay, the curse even created a canopy of clouds that lay over the sky in the daytime. So that the people of Selene will never see the sun.”

 Varian looked like he was still processing this new information.

 “Sorry to say, Kid.” Hector found himself saying before he thought better of it. “It’s not much of a home I’m bringing you back to.”

 Varian looked up at him from where he had been absently watching the fire. The light had been casting a gentle orange light across his face.

 “Dad said home is not about the height of the walls, the quality of the soil, or the temperament of the climate. It’s about the people who live there. So long as Selene isn’t full of people trying to kill me or lock me away forever it’s a huge improvement over Corona.”

Distressingly endearing. Hector thought stoking the fire.

 “So, what is it like there?” Varian asked carefully.

Hector deliberately smiled at the question. They were starting small, but he wanted the kid to know it was okay to ask anything.

“It’s a large nation. Most of it was wild and savage but there were several cities and huge landmarks and monuments. Long winters but short and wonderful summers.” Hector trailed off. Mind flooding with visions of the past.

Varian gave a small smile. “That’ll be different. Corona doesn’t really have seasons. The one time they had more than a foot of snowfall the entire kingdom shut down.”

Hector chuckled. “Selene was widely varied. Your father was brought up in a big loud bustling city with large rolling hills. Adira grew up in a tundra where men would kill each other over a puddle of water that wouldn’t reach your ankles. And I grew up surrounded by forests, a small clustered village, but my father’s forge was a ways off. Along a river. There was a waterfall near my home. All within the Dark Kingdom.”

Varian smiled at him.  “You do like to talk about it, huh?”

 Hector blinked in surprise at the observation. He forgot how much he missed his homeland. He could technically venture past the Great Tree and into the nation proper whenever he wanted. But he tried to maintain King Edmond’s orders, only entering on those few specially ordained occasions.

 “I do,” he agreed. “I miss it.”

Varian looked thoughtfully up at the Stars. Hector made a mental note to teach the boy all the important constellations for navigation and folklore.

“When I was in the dungeons, everyone had heard about what happened to me. Andrew always avoided talking about it. I guess it’s the Saporian way to bottle everything up. But Lady Caine and I would swap stories about our dads. Hers got a life sentence for a petty crime. She hasn’t seen him in over ten years, but she liked to talk about him. Made her feel close to him like he wasn’t really gone, and she would never forget him. It’s probably the same with you and your homeland.”

“Tell me about Quirin,” Hector said immediately.

Varian looked embarrassed. “You knew him. You don’t have to—"

“I knew the young leader of the Brotherhood. I knew the warrior and the Holy Man. Tell me about Quirin the farmer and father. And brewer of pumpkin ale.”

Varian smiled as if Hector had given him a great gift and Hector was glad to have done something right for once.

Varian told stories late into the night.

Hector got to learn all about how his brother was a farmer that everyone in the community relied on. He was also glad to hear the lighter stories.

A ferocious badger had been released in the town square in the middle of their harvest festival, and everyone turned to Quirin to take care of it.

About a dozen village women had decided Quirin had been living as a widower for far too long and they each knew just the woman. They were constantly trying to play matchmaker. Varian recounted that it had been pretty common for many years, at least until Varian got a little older and his alchemy experiments established him as a troublemaker. The number of suiters quickly dwindled after the second or third time Varian nearly destroyed the entire village. Hector could tell that Varian felt guilty about that.

He talked about how he had the largest pumpkin harvest in all of Corona. It was a very profitable enterprise for them, but it had the unfortunate side effect of them having nothing but pumpkin food for months and months into the winter. Pumpkin soup, pumpkin bread, baked pumpkin, and pumpkin stew. Varian was always so relieved when they finally ran out.

Hector laughed along with the funny stories. And smiled along with the sweet ones.

Varian told his stories late into the night. Until his yawns interrupted his stories too much and he eventually gave up and rolled over with a soft ‘goodnight.’

He slept curled up small, subconsciously trying to take up as little space as possible. Instead of sleeping on opposite sides of the fire pit, Varian had set up the bedroll closer to Hector that night so they could talk.

Varian passed out right away. Almost as soon as his head hit the mat. Hector wondered if he had been forcing them to take too many hours on the road for the boy’s current condition. Or perhaps it was just his body trying to heal. Or perhaps Coronans just slept earlier.

Hector placed the quilt over Varian’s sleeping form when he noticed the boy still had the charcoal smudge on his face. Hector reached over and whipped the charcoal away, careful not to wake the sleeping teen.

He suddenly yanked his hands back. Darkness take me, what am I doing?

Hjúki curled up on his lap, Hector looked up into the sky, said his prayers to the Moon and Stars, and laid back on the grass.

Chapter Text

Hector woke up to the sounds of Varian puttering around the campsite. 

Why? What kind of teenager rises before the sun every morning? Hector lamented in his sleep-addled mind.

It had to stop. Truly this was the boy’s only personality defect. Hector could train this out of him. He must.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to bully himself further into consciousness. 

At least it seemed that Varian had taken their conversation from yesterday to heart, and Hector didn’t have to wake up to find the teen missing and the ensuing heart attack that followed. 

Hector looked over to Varian, trying to determine if the teen had another nightmare. 

He was relieved that it did not seem so. Varian was already dressed in his now clean prison clothes and packing up the trunk. Hector’s shirt was neatly folded and packed away as well.

“Good morning!” Varian said with cheer.

Hector grumbled in return and forced himself up and pulled on his clean clothes and gambeson armor.

Ruddiger had already transformed and was stretching out. Nótt had been saddled and was munching on an apple. Hjúki was lingering around Varian seemingly begging for scraps and Bil was still snoozing away near him. 

“Truly you are the only one in this lot with any sense,” he murmured to her. 

The sun hadn’t even fully emerged from the horizon, he groused. And to his disdain, there was a thick layer of white frost on the ground all around the clearing. The sheet of the frost dusted the nearby grass, rocks, and leaves. 

When Hector breathed deeply, he could faintly see the cloud of his breath. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. They were traveling north, and it was October after all. They had just been lucky up to this point. 

He made a mental note to stock up on winter gear when they arrived in town.

Hector was fastening his cloak when his thoughts were interrupted by Varian holding out one of his glass beakers to him. The liquid inside was steaming and a rich brown.

“Tea?” Varian offered politely.

Hector idly wondered if it was one of the beakers, Varian had been mixing chemicals in last night, but accepted it, nonetheless. 

“Thank you,” he added, belatedly remembering his manners.

“An apology for all the gray hairs,” Varian said with a small smile as he sipped at his own mixing beaker of tea. “I had a little left over from the house. It’s not like it’s coco and the leaves were probably a bit stale, but it’s still something.”

The two ate their breakfast and Hector carefully monitored the kid’s eating. 

Not too much to the Racoon.

Not too fast.

Not too much.

More than yesterday but not as much as two days ago.

Good.

The sleepiness was starting to ebb away with the help of the tea and the chill of the morning. He wrapped his cloak around himself a little tighter and wrapped both hands around the hot beaker as he continued to groggily sip at it.

Varian, it seemed, had finished his breakfast, and was tidying up their belongings. He rinsed his beaker and stored it.

Hector barely just registered the boy was walking strangely as he approached the large trunk to pack the things away.

He’d started to show discomfort from standing barefoot on the sheet of frost on the ground.

Varian packed the trunk and would shift from one foot to the other to relieve one foot of the freezing sting, and then the other in turn. A strong gust of wind blew through the clearing and Varian shivered.

Hector felt his gut clench at the sight.

——————☽☉☾——————

Hector was twelve years old again. He’d lost sturdy leather boots with the rest of his home.   

He remembered the freezing, the wet mud sapping away every bit of warmth in his feet, leaving them concerningly numb.   

They weren’t moving properly— sluggish, and uncooperative when he tried to curl his toes.   

He kept stumbling as a result. 

He stubbed his toe on a rock and lost the nail. He’d had to remove the bloody remains with his teeth.

Summer came, and he felt the sting and stab of every pine needle and sharp rock in his path. He wrapped them up to the best of his ability. The last thing he needed was to leave a bloody trail so the ferocious bearcats could follow him, knowing he was wounded. 

His father once told him a happy old tale about small men-like creatures who could roam the forest in bare feet because their soles were as tough as leather. Thinking about that made his chest hurt as much as his feet did. 

——————☽⬤☾——————

Hector blinked his eyes at the sharp sound of glass breaking.

He looked down and realized he had crushed the beaker in his hand. His hands were trembling. maybe all of him was. 

He snarled and threw the remaining mess of glass and tea down to the ground.

He stalked right up to Varian like a man possessed and lifted him up under his arms. The boy yelped in surprise as he was hoisted off the icy ground. 

Hector carried the distressingly light child to where Ruddiger stood poised to go. 

He placed Varian up on the animal’s back and quickly turned to finish the packing, but not before his mind registered the frightened look on the boy’s face. 

He’d smooth that over later. 

After this-whatever it was, passed over him.

He finished packing the trunk and lashed it to Ruddiger in record time. 

Nótt, Hjúki, and Bil were looking at him curiously. 

Ruddiger looked like he was deciding whether or not he needed to intervene, and Varian was looking like a man waiting for the hangman’s rope.

He tightened the saddle on Nótt before he mounted up and rode up beside Ruddiger. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he forced his voice to be casual and calm. “Having a rough morning.”

“It’s fine,” Varian said graciously. His shoulders fell in relief, but his posture was still stiff. “Just surprised me is all.”

Hector nodded and without another word they started out for the day.

They ran the same frantic pace as that first night. Varian had dawned his ratty old cloak, but it was apparent that it was not enough. Fortunately, as the day went on and the sun rose further into the sky, the temperature rose as well. 

Throughout his life. People have overlooked Hector’s intelligence. But he had been trained to be observant, to pick up on small details. 

Varian jumped at sudden or loud noises. He was in awe of light and nature and wide-open spaces, lush greenery, life, light, and warmth. He was hoarding away leftovers like he didn’t think he’d get a next meal. He was fearful of angering Hector. And seemed to have a gordian knot of self-worth issues.

Hector wasn’t a mind healer, but he would bet his blade that his nephew had battle shock. 

He had seen it enough in soldiers in the barracks before he was selected to join the Brotherhood to recognize it. He’d even been able to retroactively identify the symptoms in himself as a boy after he had lost his home. It was very troubling that a fourteen-year-old had battle shock, that sickness in his spirit was plain to see.

And Hector had allowed his own hang-ups to agitate the boy's condition. 

During their first stop of the day, Varian seemed wary of him. Hector was unsure exactly what was going on in his head, but knew he was responsible. 

Varian had climbed back up on Ruddiger’s back and was getting prepared to take off again.

“Hey, kid. So, again, my apologies,” Hector said awkwardly. “I’m not really used to being around people. You looked like your feet were cold so… But that’s no excuse. You are a person; I shouldn’t scoop you up like a bearcat.” 

A beat of silence passed, then Varian gave a relieved laugh and reached out a hand. “Ride with me the next leg of the journey? I’ve got some questions for you.”

Hector felt the weight of doubt leave his shoulders and accepted the hand. Hector didn’t want to yank the kid off the giant raccoon, so he was careful not to put too much of his weight on the hand.

Throughout the next leg of their journey, Varian’s demeanor was totally different. Hector rode behind the boy like he had their first night out of Corona. But this time he also had to do his best to keep up with an onslaught of questions.

To Hector’s relief, it seemed that between last night’s explicit permission and after getting past the awkwardness of this morning, Varian was finally ready to start asking questions. Most of Varian’s questions focused on the Moonstone and the nature of its power. 

Hector supposed he couldn’t be too surprised. Varian was bound and determined to free Quirin from the amber, and now that he understood what the source of the power holding him inside was. He had a new objective to target, and he was gathering as much data about it as he possibly could. 

That was fine with Hector. It had been his job for decades to watch over the Moonstone. As the mystical object upon which their civilization had been built, and most of their spiritual practices were designed around, it was naturally Hector’s job to know as much about it as possible. 

He might not know all the “physical elements,” the “ergonomic structure,” or the “alchemical make-up,” but he had pretty complete knowledge of its scope of power and the different manifestations of that power. 

“— and in that way, perhaps I was on the right track all along! The properties are not too dissimilar from the Sundrop!” Varian said hopefully.

“What?!” Hector lost his grip on Ruddiger and nearly fell clean off.

“Whoa there!” Varian grabbed onto him, and Hector scrambled to regain his seat.

“What did you just say?”

“The Sundrop?”

Hector felt a wave of resentment. Great. First his sister now his nephew! 

“It’s a myth. Everyone knows that.”

“You know about the existence of the Moonstone, but you deny the Sundrop?” Varian sounded incredulous.

“Yes. How can the all-encompassing, destructive sun have sent its power down to Earth? It would burn everything up! It would be far more devastating than the Moonstone. Impossible. It’s a legend. Almost all the old scholars agreed.”

Varian laughed. 

Hector didn’t like it. It wasn’t like the laugh the boy did when Hector said something funny, or the soft little giggles when Ruddiger jumped up on his shoulders. It was a brittle broken thing. It reminded Hector of the way Varian had laughed back at the house when he’d lied and essentially invited Hector to kill him.

“What is it?” He asked warily.

“Just my luck. Back in Corona, no one believed there was a single semi-sentient source of the black rocks— that there was a Moonstone. And now you don’t believe there is a Sundrop.” Varian didn’t even sound bitter, just sad and resigned.

That gave Hector pause.

He didn’t want to be one of the people who drove Varian away. He would at least hear the boy out. Unlike Adira, Varian wasn’t using the myth of the Sundrop as a pretense to forsake his duties, the myth was just a part of his overall denial and grief.

“Okay, okay, so you’ve seen it, then?” He asked.

“Sure, couple times,” Varian said. “The princess Rapunzel is its human avatar on Earth.” 

“What? The Moonstone would destroy most who try to hold it. It hasn’t had a bearer in living memory. But the Sundrop can be contained in a human vessel?”

“Well, I think it actually dwells in the dead cells of her hair, not her actual body.” Varian shrugged.

“Huh. Even where I am from, I had heard that the princess of Corona has magic hair. Are you positive that it comes from a mighty celestial power and not a more mundane type of magic?”

“She manipulated the black rocks,” Varian said darkly. Dull eyes staring out to the road ahead.

“She what?!” Hector almost lost his seat again.

“They rushed up to meet her hands. She made the spikes rise up from the ground. That's how she destroyed my robot."

Believing in strange magic is one thing but witnessing the manipulation of the black rocks was quite another. That was something Hector couldn’t just disregard. And Varian had no reason to lie to him. 

It was disturbing. That there really was a Sundrop, and not just because it would mean he had to apologize to Adira.

Hector looked up into the cloudy gray sky.

“I believe you,” he said after a stretch of silence.

“You do?” Varian seemed genuinely shocked.

“I do,” he said cautiously. “Manipulating the black rocks… I can’t think of any other explanation. You’ll have to be patient with me. The concept of the Sundrop goes against almost everything I was raised to believe in. But I do believe you.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“But wait,” Hector said after a beat of silence. “If she has the ability to manipulate the black rocks, why didn’t she just free Quirin from the start?”

“I don’t know,” Varian said through clenched teeth. His hands tightened in Ruddiger’s fur. “I’ve thought about it a lot. A lot. Almost every day.”

“Disgusting,” Hector spat. “To think there’s a person like that out there in the world, and with full control of the black rocks!”

"More like: Terrifying." Varian’s voice sounded distant and hollow.

Hector had mixed feelings about his nephew's past criminal activities. He didn't condone the boy trying to take over a kingdom or attacking a princess on the night of the storm, or kidnapping people unprovoked. But to know these actions came from a place of fear and grief... Hector had aligned himself with Varian the second he discovered their connection.

It is the proper office of family to side with you even when you are in the wrong, after all.

But every time he learned more about Corona and its monarchs, he felt more and more like Varian was objectively correct in the conflict. Maybe he'd get the full story at some point. It didn't matter one way or another, and it wouldn't be worth it to upset the boy by dredging up painful memories.

“Never mind. You were asking about the fractal pattern of the black rock’s expansion out from the castle, right? And its impact on the surrounding environment?”

Varian took in all the information with rapt attention in the hours they rode on. Memorizing and recalling every single detail. 

Varian eventually wanted to write down notes, so they took another stop so he could get his writing supplies and parchment. The next leg of their journey came upon gentle rolling farmlands. Hector remounted Nótt and the two of them took a slower approach so that Varian could continue to write and perform his calculations while in the saddle. They were close enough to Vardaros that it wouldn’t matter that much.

Hector noted how different Varian was when working now. When he was mixing his medicines, he seemed relaxed and comforted by the repetitive motion. When he designed the saddle for Ruddiger, his face was alight with excitement.

When he worked on the problem of the black rocks and by extension the amber, his face was stony, but his brows drew together, and he bit down hard on his lower lip in concentration.

Hector hoped Varian would give it up soon. The black rocks were an inevitable fact of life and even if he managed to crack the amber it wouldn’t bring his father back to life. The sooner he moved on and started to heal, the better.

Hector felt powerless, his hands itched to do something to help.

Varian was so absorbed in his scribblings that he didn’t notice Hector cutting his spare shirt into thin strips before Hector passed them over to him. 

“What are—?” 

“Wrap up your feet so you don’t look so homeless,” Hector instructed him.

Varian blinked. “You shouldn’t have—”

“I can do it for you.” Hector interrupted.

“I can do it myself.” Varian scowled, curling his legs up. “You shouldn’t have ruined a perfectly good shirt for this.”

“I’ll get another one in town,” he shrugged. “You don’t want to walk down the streets of a filthy city like Vardaros in bare feet.”

Hector turned himself around in the saddle, leaning his back against Nótt’s neck. He crossed his legs and rested his head on his arms behind his head.

The sky was growing darker.

It was a beautiful dull silver, the heavy gray clouds blocked out most of the harsh sunlight, blanketing the farmlands in shade and shadow. It reminded Hector of home. But he couldn’t really enjoy it because unlike the magical cloud canopy of his homeland, the ominous gray sky here might soon mean a storm. 

It was well into the evening when they stopped again.

Varian grinned when he dropped off Ruddiger’s back and his wrapped-up feet hit the ground. 

“Much better,” he sighed.

“Told ya,” Hector said handing over his share of food and one of the canteens. Varian took it and looked considering.

Varian held out the canteen in a toast. “To new friends,” he said shyly.

Hector smiled and clanked their canteens together. “New friends,” he agreed.

Varian looked relieved. As if he’d been worried Hector was going to reject him or something.

“It would have been better if we could have forged our new alliance under the light of a New Moon, but this will have to do,” Hector said.

“A New Moon huh? You are kind of superstitious?” Varian asked teasing.

“It is tradition for our people. Your people as well.” Hector reminded him.

“Oh.” Varian nodded, taking the conversation more seriously.

“Did your father really never teach you any of this?”

Varian racked his brain.

“Well, he would make offhanded comments about the Moon when it came to people’s behaviors or the fortune or misfortune of events but…” He trailed off staring into the troubled gray sky. “He was a night owl. Had insomnia something fierce. Would stay up all night long sometimes. That’s why I developed my sleeping potion in the first place. Though he never took it.”

“He probably didn’t take it because he intended to stay up and view the Moon. This is also a tradition. The particularly devout have Moon observing celebrations twice a month for the Full and New Moons. But even those less devout still appreciate the symbolic significance. New business deals and political alliances are often made on New Moons. Reconnecting with people as well. It’s a time for productivity, spiritual revelations, even fertility.”

“Really?” Varian asked curiously.

“Sure. You were probably conceived on a New Moon.”

Hector turned when he heard a slapping sound, Varian had both hands on his face as if he was trying to prevent the information from entering his mind in mortification.

“What? It’s true! It’s tradition for many. And your dad was traditional as they came.” Hector shrugged.

“Stop!” Varian shouted back.

“You shouldn’t be so easily flustered, kid. Some lesser religious sects don’t even wear clothes on the New and Full Moon because they are days of rebirth.”

Instead of a response, Hector felt a sudden sharp pain as the canteen impacted hard on his skull.

“Ouch! Hey!” Hector laughed as Varian scowled through his beet-red face. His arm was still extended from throwing the thing.

“Decades of isolation can only excuse so much!”

“Alright, alright, no more fertility talk.” Hector surrendered rubbing his sore head. “But I’m confiscating this,” he scolded softly, clipping the canteen back onto his belt. “Wicked arm by the way.”

He was about to make another joke when a clap of thunder echoed throughout the valley.

Like the flood gates had opened up, a few drops of rain fell from the sky and in a matter of seconds, it was pouring down. 

Hector cursed and sat upright in the saddle and kicked Nótt on faster.

Varian didn’t need to be directed to do the same. Ruddiger was keeping pace with them easily. Varian pulled up the hood of his ratty undersized jacket and squinted against the pelting rain. He seemed to remember his goggles and pulled them down over his eyes.

Fortunately, they weren’t far. 

Only about a half hour of racing through the pelting rain and they finally crested the last hill overlooking the valley. Their destination was nestled within.

And in the dusty beige landscape cast in the faint fading light was the city of Vardaros.

As they drew closer to the big bustling city of Vardaros, Varian couldn’t help but stare in open awe.
 
It was strange to see the town so busy in the fading light of dusk. His sleepy farming village was usually pretty early to bed so to see the people of the town stubbornly trekking down the busy streets even against the pouring rain was pretty strange.
 
But the streets were still alight with the gentle golden light of oil lanterns hung along the streets. Every window also seemed to be lit with the lanterns. Old Corona did not have streetlights, the capital did, but that light was distant— not for him in his small poor farming town.
 
Varian was excited. He wanted to see everything.
 
The two of them paused at the edge of the town to briefly get the lay of the land. Hector was surveying the area.
 
Ruddiger stepped over him essentially sheltering him from the rain with his greater height. 

That wouldn’t do. 

No inn in the world would just nonchalantly accept a giant monster raccoon. Besides, he shouldn’t let his buddy get too wet. 
 
Varian pulled out the de-monsterification solution from his satchel and in a flash, his buddy transformed back into his normal form. Ruddiger chittered in complaint and Varian scooped him up and tucked him under his cloak, sheltering him now.
 
Hector put the fallen trunk on Nótt, and they wandered through the streets. 
 
The two of them were fortunate to not attract attention as they walked down the street. Everyone was too busy rushing to get out of the rain. 
 
Lightning briefly lit up the sky in a flash.
 
Hector led them block to block until they reached the more commercial district of the city. They passed by all sorts of shops. Varian made a special mental note of the apothecary. The crowds had cleared away at this point. Most had found shelter from the storm. By this point, it was full night, and the winds were only picking up.

They passed inn after inn. ‘The Hammered Handmaid,’ ‘The Drunken Dandy,’ and ‘The Mellowed Maiden” passed by. And all with “No Vacancy” signs hung below them. 

Varian raised his voice against the howling winds. “It’s probably too late to get a place at an inn! And if there’s no monastery, we might have to go to—!"

“I’m not taking you to a hospital!” Hector shouted back.

A boom of thunder echoed through the valley. 

Finally, they found an inn with vacancy near the edge of the commercial district where the shops began to turn into well-appointed homes. The building was large and old but there was a light lit at every street-facing window. A seemingly newly painted sign in front read “The Loaded Lordling.”

Hector handed off Nótt’s reigns to a sleepy stable boy, who perked up when Hector pressed two shiny coins into his palm. 

The stable boy cast a skeptical look at Hjuki, Bil and Ruddiger following as he led Nótt away, so Hector flipped him a third coin.

Hector held open the heavy oak door for Varian to pass through. The two approached the innkeeper. She was a plump woman thumbing through on old worn book.

“How full up are you this evening?”
 
“We’ve got about thirty boarders.” She didn’t even look up from her book.
 
“So, no empty rooms I take it?”
 
“’Fraid not. You shy or what?”
 
“No, just hate Vardaros and all her people.”
 
The innkeeper rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ve got a room with six young folk from Corona and four from Equis staying in the first room on the ground floor. That room has four beds, I can put you two in there.”
 
Varian stiffened. 
 
“Coronans are the only people I hate more than you Vardaros.” Hector retorted.
 
The innkeeper snorted at that. “You and me both. How ‘bout this: I’ll put you in the single-bed room with the young couple from Pitsford?”
 
Hector contemplated the offer before he sighed. “We’ll take it.”
 
Hector paid the woman, and she handed over a key. He led the way down the corridor dragging along the trunk. Varian followed closely behind.

Hector clicked the door open.
 
“Hello?” Greeted a sleep-ragged voice from the other side of the doorway. Hector stood fully occupying the door frame for a few moments surveying the dim room before he was seemingly satisfied. 
 
He entered. Still not greeting the room's current occupants, he walked over to deposit his gear in the corner of the room opposite the other occupants’ belongings. 
 
When Varian entered, he immediately noted how alarmed the couple in the bed looked at Hector’s appearance and lack of acknowledgment, even though they had both clearly been asleep just moments ago.
 
“Hey there!” He greeted them with his biggest, brightest smile. The strangers’ eyes went from the large silent figure in the corner to the small smiling teen at the door. 
 
“Sorry about my buddy there,” he said with feigned embarrassment. “We had a long day of travel, missed dinner, and he’s super sleepy and grumpy.”
 
The man immediately seemed more at ease, and the woman even smiled at him. 
 
Varian continued. “Sorry to wake you, we got in late because of the storm, but we’re going to turn in right away so we shouldn’t keep you up too much longer.”
 
The man nodded good naturedly. “No problem, can’t be helped with the road conditions.” The two seemed to settle back into the bed.
 
Varian was relieved they were no longer seemingly terrified of them, though he noted the two switched positions so the wife would sleep against the wall with her husband between her and the strangers.
 
He followed Hector to the corner of the room and dropped off his own stuff. He had not been lying when he said that they would turn in immediately. He was so exhausted. He wasn’t even being careful with how he deposited his satchel and travel cloak. He kicked off his feet wrappings as he yanked on a simple tunic over his head. He vaguely heard Hector mutter something about messy teenagers.

Varian had a lot fewer layers and straps to remove than Hector did, so he was ready for bed much quicker. He yawned and crossed the small room in a few strides. He pulled back the covers and—
 
“Wait.” Hector ordered him. Varian did so with furrowed brows. He hoped the man didn’t take much longer, he really needed to rest. But he wasn’t so tired that he missed the way that the man in the bed tensed at Hector’s voice.
 
A few moments later Hector approached the bed and climbed in. He slid a dagger under his pillow and motioned for Varian to follow. Varian slipped into the bed next and settled in. But instead of immediately letting sleep take him like he thought he would, he was considering Hector's actions. 

He’d have thought that the warrior would be more inclined to sleep at the edge of the bed so he could slip away more easily and frighten the room’s other occupants less. But no. Hector had made a point of stopping Varian. 
 
It took him a few moments of pondering before it hit him: he was being looked after. Hector didn’t want Varian to sleep next to the strangers. But why would Hector do that? That was a whole can of worms that Varian simply didn’t have the energy to open tonight. 
 
Instead, he shifted one more time and let sleep wash over him

Chapter Text

Varian woke early in the morning as he had become accustomed. The dungeons had broken him of any teenage habit of sleeping in. No lazy mornings under the tyrannical watch of the castle guards or his unstable cellmate.

Varian looked around the tiny inn room. He was shocked to be sleeping peacefully and on an actual feather bed! Never mind being miles and miles away from home, being snug and warm was the truly strange part. Hector was asleep next to him and snoring softly. Their roommates were packing up and dressing on the side of the room where they stored their belongings.

They extended silent nods and waves to Varian as they dressed and left for the day. Their clothes were of a very fine material but not cut particularly stylish or fancy. Varian was grateful that they were being respectful and allowed Hector to sleep. Just because Varian was forever ruined for the simple pleasure of a lazy morning didn't mean that his new friend ought to be. Plus, he knew the man would be nocturnal if he could help it.

Varian rubbed his eyes and considered the man and the soft feather mattress he was sleeping on. The room was small, but the clientele seemed rich. The doorknobs were a fine polished brass, and the sheets were soft, clean cotton. It almost felt too soft after months of his moldy straw pallet and then the hard forest ground.

He hadn't been able to see how much money Hector had handed over for their stay, but he imagined it was quite a bit.

The thought made Varian anxious. Just because Hector had been charitable on the road with food didn't mean that he would pay for Varian's other stuff. Like clothes or shoes or most importantly of all: alchemy supplies.

Varian knew that such generosity simply didn't exist outside of storybooks. Hector wasn't his parent so he would need to start fending for himself.

Varian tied back his shaggy overgrown hair and got to work packing up his satchel full of what he would need for today. He had a vague plan for how he could get what he needed, but it could take time.

Not too much longer after, Hector stirred from the bed and saw Varian sitting on the ground surrounded by his vials and devices and just groaned and rolled back over to go back to sleep.

"Hey, Hector," Varian said softly trying not to be too loud so early in the morning. He must not have succeeded because Hector groaned again and rubbed his face.

"So, I know you said I have to tell you where I go when we were out in the woods, but I thought I’d do the same here in town." Varian finished packing up his bag and slung the satchel over his shoulder. "So, I'm headed out to the apothecary, then maybe to the hospital or monastery, then I'm going to explore the city a bit. I should be back by—"

Hector groaned for the third time and slung himself out of the bed. His feet hit the floor and he stood up eyes still bleary and unfocused.

"’Coming, I'm coming…" he grumbled.

"Oh." Varian was surprised. "You don't have to. I know you said the woods were dangerous, but this is a city."

"This city is a hundred times more dangerous than the woods," Hector said bitterly, getting his clothing on, splashing water on his face from the wash basin, and just generally trying to wake up. "No wandering off alone."

"’Kay." Varian agreed. Slightly amused by Hector's familiar sleepy routine.

But wait. He thought. He’d simply accepted the man's ruling about this without a second thought. It reminded him of when his father told him to do something or made a judgment and Varian would naturally follow it. Every other adult he had spoken to usually garnered a good amount of suspicion, especially after everything that happened. When had he instinctively started to trust this man? Never mind. No, it was probably just that he was nervous about the new city, and he wanted to have a familiar face with him.

Varian and Hector made their way down to the common room and ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal and peaches. Varian was shocked at how his body reacted to his first warm food in months. His eyes overflowed with tears. He knew intellectually it was probably a low-quality meal, all things considered, but it felt like the best thing he'd ever had.

He found himself profusely thanking the cook for the simple meal.

She laughed at him and said that it was just the leftovers from yesterday with a slice of peach to hide the fact. She told him to not get so over-excited then shot Hector a dirty look before she returned to the kitchen.

Varian didn't quite finish his bowl. But it was still the best he had felt in months.

He hummed happily as they departed from the inn for the day.

The streets of Vardaros were messy and uneven broken cobblestones not suited for horses, so Hector and Varian opted to leave Nótt and the bearcats in the stables. Varian still grabbed Ruddiger and carried him on his shoulders.

The city was densely populated. More crowded than he was used to, even when he had visited the capital. And unlike that city, where much of the architecture was designed and built upwards on the limited space of the island, the city and streets of Vardaros sprawled outwards.

The other thing he quickly noticed was how people lurked in the alleyways or the corners of the streets, either loitering around or inspecting the people on the street, suspiciously.

"Footpads," Hector explained when he noticed Varian staring.

"In the middle of the day?" Varian asked.

"Vardaros." The man grumbled.

Varian decided that he was grateful Hector had come along.

Nearly every man, woman, and youth they passed had a weapon on their hip and a cold dangerous look on their face.

They passed more vendors in the market that had weapons in their stalls than produce.

Varian gripped his bag more closely to himself. He was anxious to get his supplies so he could make the alchemical creations he needed to feel safe again.

It wasn't all bad, though. The place clearly had a vibrant culture. Young kids ran together down the streets laughing. A man on a pushcart was selling egg sandwiches to morning commuters.

He lingered in front of it trying to determine the nature of the heating mechanism on the cart before Hector gently pulled him along.

A man walking quickly bumped into Varian on the sidewalk. The force of it nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Hey!" Varian shouted. But the man just rushed past.

Hector took off in a dead run.

Before the man had even made it a block away, Hector had caught up to him.

He grabbed a handful of the man's sandy brown hair and yanked. The man was pulled back with a quick aborted curse. Hector got the man in a headlock as he fought and squirmed to break free. He tried to pry away Hector's arm with one hand while the other clutched at something.

Hector snarled and tightened the hold. Eventually, the struggling slowed and stopped, and the man's arms fell limp. Hector unceremoniously dumped the man onto the dirty street. He stooped and grabbed whatever the man had clutched in his closed fist.

The man stirred and made to stop him, but Hector stood up straight and delivered a swift kick to his gut. The man groaned in pain and curled up on the ground.

Hector strode back over to where Varian stood frozen on the street.

"Why did you—"

"Here." Hector held out his hand and Varian looked down and saw it was one of his own shining green vials.

"My Flynnolium!" He said shocked. "He took it?"

"Pickpocket." Hector shrugged. "The proper Vardaros welcome."

Varian reached over and carefully took the vial from the man’s hand. It took him a moment to process what had just happened and the flood of emotions he felt.

"Thank you," Varian said, gently cradling the vial in hand.

Sure, Hector might be scary, but he was also so cool. Like a hero from a story!

He smiled up at Hector. “Nice work. That could have been really bad!”

"Carry your bag on the other side and stand closer to me," Hector suggested as they moved on.

As they walked Hector was matching the passing street-toughs dangerous look for dangerous look. Refusing to drop his gaze, continuously staring them down as they passed. Assessing if they were an easy target or not. He positioned his dagger at his belt visibly and kept a hand near it.

Varian knew the gesture was performative. Hector's true weapon was the blade that somehow popped out of the gauntlet on his wrist.

He made a mental note to try to get the man to let him see the sword later.

They passed a flaming forge: "The Sloshed Smith", a farrier's stables with a sign that read: "The Hammered Handyman" and a fine shop with fancy embroidery in the window reading: "The Sloppy Seamstress." There was even a booth at the market selling honey and beeswax labeled: "Buzzed Beekeeper."

After the short trek through the dangerous city. The pair finally came upon the apothecary on a bustling street in the heart of the marketplace.

The building was large but looked run down. There was broken windows on the storefront. Burn and scorch marks marred the red bricks of the place, and there were strange discolorations also staining the sidewalk and street in front of the building.

The sign read "Mad Steintist" with a man in scholar's robes and goggles standing proudly above a beer stein.

The air around the building smelled of sulfur and burning,

Hector pulled a face as he took in the sight of it, but Varian was practically vibrating with excitement.

He entered through the front door of the establishment and proceeded to wander down every aisle in the place. Hector lingered by the door staring out the window just waiting for him.

"Don't know nothing about this nerd stuff." He'd explained. "I'd just be in your way."

Varian was in heaven. Despite the worn-down exterior, this place was a right and proper apothecary!

Corona was a wealthy nation, but it didn't think much of scientific pursuits. His best options for potion ingredients had always been the old herbalists and Xavier the blacksmith of all people. So, to see a place like this specially appointed for alchemy with all the specific and specialized ingredients he could imagine. Varian was almost dizzy from all the possibilities.

"Don't know why you're smiling so much, boy." An aged and wheezy voice sounded from the other side of the aisle. "None of these are worth much on the black or grey markets and I ain't going to let you leave without checking your bag and pockets first."

Varian looked and the man who had spoken was an old, grizzled man. He was hunched over from age, with a dark tanned face, stark white woolly hair, and huge wide strong glasses making his eyes look almost comically large.

“Are you the apothecary?” Varian asked excitedly.

The man's eyes narrowed. "And you ain't gonna get much by robbing the place neither."

"I'm not here to rob you or shoplift," Varian said as he approached the old man. "I'm an alchemist!"

The man looked him up and down. "And I'm a magic princess."

"I can show you!" Varian offered with excitement, reaching for his satchel. "I made these potions and poultices. I have these traps and tricks. If you inspect them, I'm sure you'll see that their quality is-"

"Fah!" The man said, turning away. "I ain't taking no apprentices and I certainly don't take kindly to competition."

"No, sir. I was actually hoping to sell some of my—"

"I ain't buying. I got more cures and potions than I know what to do with! What I need are paying customers!"

"Well, I'm also here to purchase a few things," Varian said trying to get the man to not write him off.

"You got any gold?" He asked skeptically.

"Sure, you got any chloral, mercury-fulminate, and quicklime?" Varian asked.

The man's eyes widened in shock before his face dropped into a flat wry expression. His shoulders dropped and he crossed his arms.

"Where are your parents?" he asked.

"Oh, well they... aren't really around." Varian hoped the man didn't push any further.

"Who's in charge of you? Are you working for one of the gangs or bigger families? Because I'm under the protection of the Baron's crew!"

"No Sir. I'm an independent gentlemen scientist." Varian was quick to correct him.

"And why do you need knock-out drops, blast balls, and alchemist fire?"

"Sometimes it's dangerous to be an independent gentlemen scientist."

The man's brows knit together as he once again considered the list. Then he examined Varian, looking him over closely again. "The gold first."

Varian put his small clutch of coins on the counter. It was nearly everything he had.

The man considered the pile, then ran a finger over the fraying end of the sleeve of his robe, then back to the pile. Then Varian again. Varian hoped the Coronan currency didn't pose a problem.

The apothecary sighed and counted out the gold pieces holding each one close to his face to see them more clearly. Eventually, he seemed satisfied and turned away from the counter muttering to himself the entire time.

The man expertly gathered the chemicals that Varian listed from the shelves behind the counter and lined them up.

The man's hands were permanently stained in various colors. Like a dyer's might have been. Varian wondered about all of the different potions and experiments the man had done over his long life.

"And why do you keep looking at me like that, boy?" He snapped.

"I, uh, sorry." Varian felt himself blush. "I just never met a grownup who was a master of alchemy before. I mean there was my mother, but I barely remember her, and those memories are so foggy and sad..." he trailed off. "I was the only one with an interest or passion for alchemy in my farming village. Much less someone who's spent their whole life dedicated to the craft."

He was slightly in awe of the man.

The apothecary gave him a flat look. "You aren't from Vardaros."

Varian blinked. "Well. No, I—"

"Get out. Get the hell out of town before it kills you." He pushed the bag with his chemicals into Varian's hands and then pushed Varian toward the direction of the door.

"But Sir!"

"No, no, no." The man said. "Good boys like you can't live in this city. They either stop being good or stop living!"

"With all due respect," Varian said. "I can take care of myself."

"Sure." The man snorted. "Just look at your face!"

Varian briefly touched the bruise the prison guard had left on his cheek and the one on his throat from Hector.

"This was from before Vardaros," Varian waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, Now I've got a friend who is really strong and won't let anything bad happen to me."

Hector stood up straight from where he was leaning near the door.

The apothecary looked skeptical.

"It's true!" Varian insisted. "This is Ruddiger." He held out the raccoon out for the old man to see.

Hector's shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed.

The apothecary's look had gone from dismissive to outright frightened.

"You're mad."

"No wait! Ruddiger do your thing!" The raccoon dropped to the floor then skittered across the room to the largest open space by the shelves of books and took one of his scarlet capsules to transform.

In a flash, Ruddiger was in his larger form. Varian cringed as his buddy bumped his head on the ceiling of the place and a stack of books tipped over from his sudden mass displacing them.

The apothecary just stood gaping in shock as Varian re-stacked the books. He stared at the transformed raccoon then turned back to Varian.

The old man gave a resigned sigh. "Alright boy, show me what you've got."

A few hours later Varian, Hector, and the re-shrunk-down Ruddiger left the apothecary.

Varian had his bag of new chemicals and a deal: first thing tomorrow, he was going to set up a stall outside the shop on the busy street in the market. To sell his wares to the people of Vardaros.

Varian agreed to give the apothecary 20% of the profits— well, he'd first agreed to give the man 25%, before Hector interceded that he should only accept 15%. They eventually settled on 20%.

But now the only question was how was he going to drum up business? He had an idea and most of what he needed to pull it off. He just wasn't sure if he could be convincing enough.

"Hey, Hector?"

"Hm?" The man looked away from where he was glaring at a man with a tiger tattooed on his face.

"Could I borrow your cloak?" He was thinking about how to best ask this. "I might need to not look quite so homeless. Just for a short while, I mean—"

Hector had swung his cloak over Varian's shoulders before he had finished his rambling request.

He went back to keeping an eye out on the thug who was very clearly sizing them up for a robbery.

Varian took a moment to figure out the clasp before he fastened it securely. The ends of it dragged on the ground but there was no helping that. Hector could maybe hem it for him later.

His attention was quickly taken by a large blonde man with a grizzly scar crisscrossing across his chest as he moved just a bit too close to them on the street.

He was so absorbed in all the threats around them. All the ill-intentioned people. All the filth on the street the loud bustling movement and the foul smells. It was so overstimulating that he barely noticed where Varian was leading them. Buildings became more spaced out and smaller as they plodded along. The crowds thinned and the road went from uneven cobblestones to worn-down clay.

It wasn't until they were in sight of the elaborate spires and towers of the monastery, that Hector stopped.

"Varian. No." He said quickly as the boy’s intentions fell into place.

"Come on, Hector. I'm selling medicines. I gotta go where people need medicines," he said sounding slightly pleading.

"Absolutely not."

"I'll be careful," he argued back. "Please." Varian looked up at him with those huge blue eyes of his.

"You're a menace," Hector said dropping his shoulders. "Fine. One hour."

Varian gave a cheer and before he knew it Ruddiger had transformed again. Varian climbed up on his back. Varian shook and activated his glowing staff.

He rode up to the monastery on the monster's back. Hector followed a short distance behind.

Varian sat atop Ruddiger peering over the huge structure.

Eventually, an older woman stepped out of the building. "W-what are you- um. State your business." the woman said. First sounding frightened and then getting more confidence near the end.

"Do you care for the sick here?" Varian asked as he slid down Ruddiger's side and landed lightly on the ground before the woman.

"All our beds are full." She said crossing her arms. "What's the matter with you?" She looked Varian over, eyes lingering on his colorful glowing staff.

Varian administered the potion to revert Ruddiger back to his natural form. In a flash of light, the raccoon changed back and jumped back up onto Varian's shoulders.

The woman was naturally shocked. Varian stood before her in the long black cloak with his glowing staff casting an eerie light across his face, clearly having demonstrated great power. Hector had to admit that if he did not know his frail nerdy nephew, he might have mistaken him for a powerful sorcerer.

The woman was clearly fooled.

"Nothing is wrong with me. I'm new in town. I'm going to be selling medicine in the market for a few days, but I have enough for charity.” He withdrew a few of the stoppered potions he had made on the road.

The woman just nodded and swung open the door.

She barely spared a glance at Hector when he followed the pair through the spiraling winding halls of the monastery. The stonework was a simple utilitarian gray. The halls that were probably at one time grand and breathtaking had fallen into disrepair. They passed small rooms where holy men and women sat praying, cleaning, working, reading, or simply sleeping. There were statues and idols surrounded by lit candles along the halls. There was a good deal of sun symbology. The nearby Coronan influence. And some kind of local deity, looked to be a trickster of some kind. Hector did not recognize any of them. Praying to anything other than the Moon and Stars was idolatry to him.

Eventually, she led them up to a room full of rows and rows of small pallets.

Hector had suspected that the woman had been lying when she had said they had no beds to spare but now he could see that she had not.

The room was absolutely packed. Cots and pallets stretched out into rows across what was probably once the great hall of the building. People were even sleeping on blankets spread out on the ground.

No surprise. This city was so densely packed. It was no wonder disease ran rampant. And so rough and violent too. There were naturally so many injured, and many that could not seek out a professional healer.

Varian wandered up the rows, looking over the people in their beds.

"Abbess, what is that boy doing?" a man in monk robes looked up from where he was spooning something into the mouth of a groaning man.

"He said he has medicine," she explained. "And we need all the help we can get."

"Are you sure he-"

"I'm sure," she cut him off. "I'll explain later."

Varian administered his medicines to different people. Hector had no idea how Varian chose the ones he gave his medicines to. He knelt by their pallets or cots and even one woman on the floor. He explained the medicine to each person, before he gave it to them to drink. He even tipped one of the vials down the throat of one of the older men who could not rise from his pallet.

There was a man with a festering wound. He boldly admitted he'd gotten it in a drunken bar fight. Varian was inspecting the wound when the delirious man grabbed hold of Varian's wrist to get his attention.

"Swear to me you won't ever kiss an Ingvarri girl with knife scars." The man warned the teen sternly.

Varian blinked once then nodded placatingly. "I swear."

The man dropped his hand.

Hector resheathed his dagger.

And Varian asked if the man wanted him to try to treat the infection.

The man immediately agreed.

Varian returned his cloak and pulled up his sleeves.

He applied a strong-smelling liquid to the wound. The man screamed and shouted as Varian applied the liquid but settled back down when he applied a more soothing-smelling salve afterward.

A woman was moving on her cot in fits. The abbess explained she had not settled for hours. Varian administered a potion a stark purple and smelling of rue and the woman settled down in minutes.

All in all, it took far longer than one hour. But eventually, Varian was led out of the hall with the sick and wounded, deep in conversation with the abbess.

The woman had gone from being unsure of the strange boy to now fully talking to him like a fellow professional. Asking about seemingly every potion, cure, and poultice Varian had ever made. She also had quite a bit of knowledge to share in return as well. Both about healing but also about Vardaros and how to navigate the city.

Before they left to make their way back into town proper, the abbess asked Varian again where he was going to be setting up his stall tomorrow. Varian happily gave the address of the apothecary.

"And how long are you going to be in town?" She asked with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her tone had gone from professional curiosity to sounding like she was addressing a favored grandson.

Varian seemed unsure and looked over to Hector.

"No longer than we need to," Hector answered.

The woman turned to him in surprise. As if she had only just noticed that he was there.

Her eyes traveled down his form, then back to Varian.

Hector watched as her hand tightened on Varian's shoulder.

"I see." She now sounded strained. "Stop back here before you leave so we can pray for your safe travels."

She stared after them as they wandered back towards town.

By this point, the sun was well into its descent and the oil street lanterns were lit along the street.

Somehow this made the town even worse. The number of ruffians and footpads had increased. A thief flagrantly ran down the road with a grain sack full of something or another with a well-dressed merchant chasing him down shaking his fist and screeching curses after him. Hector yanked Varian out of the way so he wouldn't get trampled by the chase.

Once again, he had allowed Varian to lead them through town and up to a bathhouse on a relatively clean street. The building was old but impressive with a whitewashed exterior and bunches of lavender and mint sprigs hung from every door. Steam was rising from the building.

"The abbess said I should come here after tending to the sick," he explained. Hector found himself feeling grateful to the woman.

Washing all the filth of the city away was an amazing feeling. Somehow, he felt like he had become dirtier walking down these streets in one day than he had in all three days outside on the road combined.

The establishment had a huge marble wading pool full of hot steaming water. It was late enough in the evening that the crowd was thinning, and the staff were cleaning the tubs down and closing the place down.

By the time he and Varian were redressing to face the city again, a half dozen poor cleaning maids were scrubbing away at the drained pool and tubs.

Hector was yanking on his boot and Varian curiously wandered up and peered over the huge empty pool.

"Young sir, make way!" a woman called out impatiently, lugging a basket of linens. "Gotta clean the whole thing 'fore we get to go home."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Did we come in too close to closing time?" Varian asked concerned.

The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes "Closing time ain't 'til the master lets us go. That don't happen til he's convinced he can't make another penny from ya dirty travelers."

Varian reached into his satchel and found a bright blue capsule.

"Can I show you all something?" he asked.

The woman raised a brow and cocked her head to the side, but still called over the rest of the ladies.

Varian flung the capsule in the pool only for it to disperse in fine soapy suds that rapidly expanded into the pool, and beyond, all throughout the entire bathing chamber. Again, there was a bright flash of light, and the chemical dissolved away seconds later in what appeared to be blue flames.

Sure. Hector thought exasperated. He'd already watched the boy change a raccoon into a monster, weaponize super strong glue, cure the afflicted and alter the structure of the black rocks. Might as well add instantaneous cleaning to the list of weird unbelievable things his nephew could apparently just do.

A linen basket tumbled to the floor as one of the girls fell to her knees to inspect the floor.

"This is- I mean it's- I never- how did you—what?" another one trailed off looking stricken.

Varian shrugged looking a bit embarrassed. "I felt bad we kept you late in the evening. Now you can go home, right?"

"I've never seen it so clean." Another one of the girls said, absently. She didn't look like she had even heard him.

"I'd forgotten that this was the original color of the floor." Another one added.

"Be very careful," Varian warned. "I only ever used it in a castle foyer. It's very very slippery. Took out more castle guards that day than any weapon."

"A castle?!" One of the girls squeaked in excitement.

"A castle! Of course." Another one nodded. "Do you have any more?"

A small smile formed on Varian's face. "Not with me. But I'm going to be setting up a stall in the market tomorrow, in front of the old apothecary. I'll be selling them there."

The woman nodded in a rush. "I must show my master!" Without another word, she scrambled to her feet and sprinted out of the room.

"You ready?" Varian asked, turning to Hector.

"Don't know." He laughed, pulling on his last boot. "You got any more miracles to use tonight?"

"Maybe one or two." Varian gave him a sly grin.

And with that, they made their way back to the inn.

As they left the establishment, all the employees were talking to each other excitedly. One looked over to them leaving and her wide excited smile disappeared, and her expression turned to one of pure hatred as she watched Hector lead Varian away.

Hector felt so much more relaxed after the bath and didn't even care so much about the town's terrible atmosphere. It also seemed that his relaxed smile was almost as unnerving to the locals as his glares and snarls were. Adira always did say smiling made him look unhinged.

He felt a light tug at his cloak, and he looked down to see Varian guiding him towards a tavern with a sign hung above it reading: 'The Tipsy Table' with a painted sign of a table piled precariously high with drinks and food.

"You know they'll feed us at the inn, right?" he asked.

"Come on," Varian cajoled. "The stab wound guy said this was the best place to eat in town."

Hector gave him a sour look.

"But it wasn't the place he got stabbed!" He clarified. "He said it was super boring here."

Once again, Hector sighed. He held open the door for Varian.

The room was full of pleasant chatter, there were crowds gathered around tables and in booths. Men were dicing in the corner and a girl was strumming a stringed instrument at the front of the dining room.

There was no room at any of the tables, so they sat at the very end of the bar.

Varian ran a figure along a symbol that had been carved into the dark wooden surface of the bar top.

"The Stabbington brothers must have been here," Varian told him, pointing to an old carving of a pair of crossed knives.

"You know the various criminal calling cards?" Hector asked.

"Many of them," Varian said. "This one is for the Pirates Caine." He pointed at a stylized rose carving.

"This one was for the Strongbow Bandit." The carving was of an old lance strung in a war bow like an arrow.

"This one I'm not familiar with," he pointed to a carving of a gemstone with spider legs and fangs and a capital cursive 'B' on its back.

"But this one is for the Saporians. After the civil war ended, they spread out, some must have come here." The symbol was an even more rounded stylized flower.

“And this,” his hand rested on a carving of a man with ‘FR’ carved above it. Hector was surprised to see he recognized that one. It was the same symbol he had seen on King Edmond's children's books.

Varian must have recognized it too because he let his hands fall away from the bar top, and his face dropped into a frown.

"Flynn Rider," was all Varian said.

"Not a fan?" Hector asked.

Varian shrugged. "Used to be. Then I met the real guy. Not anymore."

"Well, it probably wasn't the real one." Hector tried to be reassuring. "Those books were being circulated back when I was your age. Whoever you met was probably just an upstart thief using the moniker."

"Really?"

"Sure, a good pal of mind was obsessed with them. Collected every book. This was long before you were born."

Varian ran a figure over the carving.

"I was way worse. I also collected posters and souvenirs. Flynn-er, actually his name turned out to be Eugene." Varian corrected himself. "I really only met him the once. I came on too strong. I made a stupid mistake with one of my experiments and ruined everything. I got totally written off after that day. He looked at me with dread every time I saw him…”

Varian paused as if he was considering if he should say more. “I begged him and the princess and her lady-in-waiting to please help me with Dad and the castle guards and he was all: 'It's always something with that guy.' as if it were all my fault."

"You should try not to let your experiences with the faker affect how you feel about the books." Hector told him but made special note to remember the name 'Eugene'.

"Wish it was that simple."

Hector noticed a group of nearby men casting looks over to them. He was tempted to just shrug it off. More of the citizens taking notice of their strange, mismatched appearances.

The men were sitting around one of the larger tables. They were dicing and drinking. He'd missed them when they first entered the establishment. The other people in the room were far more threatening looking. But now that they were clearly taking notice of them, Hector couldn't help but notice them in turn. The group all wore matching red shirts. They didn't look like the typical Vardaros rough necks. They didn't look overly tattooed or scarred. Not even one of them looked like they'd had a broken nose set wrong.

In fact, they looked rather well-groomed and put together for Vardaros.

"—Two silvers." The tavernkeeper said holding out a hand.

Hector realized that Varian must have ordered for them while he was distracted and quickly reached for his coin pouch, only for Varian to beat him to it.

"Here," Varian put two coins in the man's hand. The man's brows shot up. He looked Varian over and gave Hector an unimpressed look before he returned to the kitchen.

Great. He was being judged. In Vardaros, he was being judged.

"Kid, you didn't have to—"

"I just wanted to thank you for everything. You know all the provisions, the room, the bath, the rescue."

Wait. Why did it seem like Varian was keeping a running tab?

"It wasn't much of a rescue," Hector reminded him.

"Still. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be in the dungeons. Dirty, starving, sick. Instead, I'm going to have my second hot meal of the day. I'm free. Getting stronger. Doing alchemy."

"I suppose..." Hector didn't want to argue about it. He didn't feel like he deserved his nephew's gratitude much less his generosity. But the kid was smiling and seemed proud to have paid for the food so Hector let it go.

He quickly turned his attention back to the men dicing in the corner. One man in particular, looked at Varian and then whispered something to the man next to him and even pointed over toward them.

"Say, what does this symbol mean?" Hector asked pointing to one carving near the wall.

Varian looked over but could not see clearly. Hector stood up and Varian shifted over one seat, so he was seated against the wall. Hector took the seat Varian just vacated now sitting between Varian and the rest of the room. He turned slightly to break the group's direct line of sight doing his best to shield Varian from view.

"I think this one is for the guy who calls himself 'Otter.' He now runs with Lady Caine." Varian told him.

"Oh, cool," Hector said absently as he watched the group out of the corner of his eye. The one man simply shrugged to his friend and returned to his drink.

When their food arrived, he was relieved to see that Varian's meal just consisted of a simple broth and fresh soft bread. Nothing that would make him sick. Though, he was well on his way to recovery.

When they were done eating, Hector watched as Varian struck up a conversation with the bartender and asked him about how many dishes he had to wash that night. Before Hector could warn him against it, Varian was showing off his automatic dish scrubber and his other potions and inventions.

He’d managed to secure another customer for tomorrow. But they’d attracted a good amount of attention in the meantime, and Hector was only too quick to drag Varian out of the tavern.

When they were full and content, they wandered through the streets back toward their inn.

"It's strange," Varian commented as they made their way down the streets.

"What is?"

"The streetlights," Varian explained. "Never had them in Old Corona. I've never seen a town so busy and bustling this late at night like this."

"You'd have liked the cities in the Dark Kingdom," Hector said. "The big cities were lit with cool white light all through the Night. The clouds were so heavy in the sky during the day that for many there was no point in operating during the daytime. Many traditional clans and important industries operated nocturnally."

"Really?" Varian sounded fascinated.

"Sure, you think it was just me?"

"Well, you are pretty weird," Varian said lightly elbowing Hector's side.

"Look who's talking." Hector shot back.

Varian was thoughtful for a moment. "I never thought about a society like that."

"It was something to behold. City lights shining below, Stars shining above." Hector said. "I wish you could have seen it."

"I think I actually like this town," Varian said after a moment of contemplation.

Hector thought about it for a moment as well. "It's not too bad."

A drunkard stumbled out of the alley before them and fell to his knees and vomited right in the middle of the street.

"Never mind," Hector said guiding Varian wide around the man. "We leave in five days."

Chapter Text

Hector was once again dragged back into the waking world the following morning.

He caught sight of their roommates packing to leave for the day. Hector might not trust the people very far, but they seemed sufficiently intimidated. And he could admire the crazy hours they kept. And how they knew to stay out of their way.

Once again, Varian was up and about, getting ready for the day. He had far more alchemy supplies than his old ratty satchel could carry. Instead, he packed up the trunk, unpacking their clothes and personal items. Hector's sleep-addled mind made a note to get the kid a proper backpack or something.

Maybe a bandolier? A bandolier would look cool…

They had a quick breakfast in the inn common room. Then checked on their animal friends, and ventured back out into the city. When they arrived at the apothecary shop, the old man gave them the pieces to assemble a stall for the market.

Hector and Varian were able to get it assembled without much hassle. They were in a shaded spot in the market so Varian activated his glowing test tubes and hung them from the stall. People passing by would do double takes as they noticed the strange colorful lights.

The first hour of the day, only a few curious shoppers took notice of them there. But by noon the market came to life with more foot traffic. Before Hector realized what had happened, there was a line forming in front of the stall.

Hector was wondering what in the world was going on. Then he recognized the group of girls from the bathhouse, and the barkeep from the restaurant the night prior.

That wasn't surprising. What was surprising was all the rumors running through the crowd.

"It's the druid! The healer!" An old fairer said to a group of washwomen, pointing to the stall. "I heard that he cured some people at the monastery, and they all made a quick recovery!"

By midday, a harvestman was telling a weaver. "I heard that they were all immediately healed."

By the afternoon, a gleeman boldly told a stonemason; "I saw it! They all sprung right out of bed and danced! When they’d been just an hour from death!"

By the late afternoon, a thatcher was telling a locksmith: "They say that the halls of healing lay empty as every man was miraculously healed!"

Varian was always sure to correct the exaggerations. But most seemed to think he was just being modest.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Hector had to ask, after hearing a baker tell a winemaker that the traveling wizard cast a purification spell on a restaurant. "Intentionally make a spectacle of your stuff yesterday to start rumors?"

Varian hesitated. "Well, back in Corona, there were all sorts of rumors about me. They called me "The Dark Wizard of Old Corona" and a lot of other less nice things..."

"I remember," Hector said solemnly.

"But even before everything happened, there was always a lot of talk. I wondered if I couldn't get ahead of it this time. Back in Corona, there was a huckster named Fernanda Pizazzo, she had rudimentary magnet set up, but she sold it like she was a magician, and everyone loved her. I thought that maybe just once, I could use the rumor-mill to my advantage. You know? It's not too often I get a fresh start."

Most people were buying regular medicines and cleaners. However, many had special requests for specific problems. Varian started a list of commissions. Collecting half up front and the other half upon collection.

It helped that word had already spread that this winter was due to be fearsome and long-lingering. Everyone wanted to be prepared for the season.

The medicines were selling like crazy and to a lesser extent the other inventions. Varian had used his heated tongs to melt a 'V' into the corks of the vials and flasks as a calling card.

The rumors were only fueled when the old abbess herself made an appearance in the market street and bought out the rest of Varian's fever breaker. All fifty vials sold in one go. Varian nearly ran out of room in his coin box.

Varian seemed to have settled on prices for all his different products, but Hector wondered if he didn't place the prices lower than he could have. But he did hold his ground when people tried to haggle him down.

Hector marveled at how he was almost a different person when he was asked to explain or demonstrate his different concoctions.

Then Varian took on a confidence and enthusiasm Hector had never seen from the kid before.

Hector couldn't help but be reminded of Adira. His sister was the biggest show-off he had ever known. But Varian showing off the effects of a stain remover was a close second.

Throughout the day, there were a few incidents where people mistook Hector for the alchemist and wrote Varian off as a serving boy. At first, Hector was annoyed. But most of the time, Varian didn't do more than tease them about it.

"Oi Wizard! What do you have for the shakes?" A bald man called out to Hector. He'd pushed past the young woman at the front of the line and leaned past Varian at the counter.

"Who, me?" Hector asked brows drawing together.

"No, the raccoon. Yes, you!" The man barked.

Hector looked him over, unimpressed. "Wait your turn. Enter your commission with the lad. Half up front half upon delivery."

"I ain't dealing with no dirty urchin," the man shot back. Hector was just going to bark at him to take off, but then he slammed a hand down on the stall making Varian flinch.

Hector yanked the hand of the countertop and twisted it hard as he drew his dagger. He ignored the man's weak struggles as he firmly pressed the polished cold metal against the man's radial artery. Sure enough, his hands were shaking, but then again so was the rest of him.

"You're going to want to speak with the young master alchemist. He'll give you a poultice. I'll just take the hands. Now get back in line and mind your manners before I just do it for kicks."

The man cried out in terror. When Hector released him, he did not go back to his spot in line, he tore off down the road. The next dozen or so customers were sure to speak politely and thank Varian profusely.

A stressed-looking young man stumbled up to the stall next. His shiny black hair was disheveled. He had dark circles under his eyes and his once-fine clothes looked worn out.

He whipped his brow with a stained, monogrammed handkerchief and asked Varian for a cure for a pounding headache. He explained he had been overworked and burnt out ever since the new lawmen busted his import business for selling embargoed goods. And he needed the relief.

Varian gave him one of his purple vials and named the price. Varian examined the young man fishing through his coin purse and cast a glance at the line behind him.

"Be warned," Varian said a bit louder than usual. "Whatever you do; don't mix the painkiller with common splitroot. It could result in psychedelic hallucinations, feelings of relaxation, euphoria, and lowered inhibitions."

The man's tired eyes went sharp and wide.

He said nothing for a moment before clearing his throat. "And do you sell any splitroot?"

"Six silvers."

"Thank you!" The young man paid Varian and rushed off. An excited murmur started up in the line.

Suddenly, pain killer and splitroot became the most popular items at the stall. The next dozen or so people in line who overheard the conversation all bought the items together. Varian sold them along with a thoroughly informative and encouraging warning.

"So, was this also part of your plan? Become a medicine peddler and a contrabandist?" Hector asked in amusement after the twentieth person left with the potion and the herb.

"They aren't habit-forming," Varian said crossing his arms, tone defensive. "If it keeps them out of a bar or opium den for a night, I'd actually call it a win for public decency."

"Hey now, I'm not standing in judgment," Hector reassured him. "In fact, remind me to show you the giant Dream Flower when we get back home."

"Giant Dream Flower?" Varian sounded intrigued.

Hector had known his nephew was a genius but now he was fully convinced. He had no idea how one kid could be so nerdy and insecure in some ways and outgoing and manipulative in others.

No. Not manipulative. Cunning? Socially intelligent?

He was surprised at how well-suited Varian was to an urban environment. Hector hated cities with all the people, noise and smells. And the fact that he could not see the stars at night. It was nice to think that if anything ever happened to Hector, Varian would be able to eke out a living on his own.

A commotion started down at the end of the market street. A dozen people took off in a dead run and many more shuffled out of the way uneasily.

Hector saw them making their way down the street. He saw polished golden helmets and cuirasses shining bright in the afternoon sun, swords on belts, eyes scanning the stalls and stores of the market.

Hector tensed in shock.

Varian stumbled backward a few steps before he bumped into Hector.

He turned around to look up at him. His face had gone pale, and his eyes were wide.

The Coronans drew nearer, and Hector brushed a finger over the switch that would draw his sword.

But Varian was thinking quicker than he was. The next second, he had dropped down under the stall and curled up in a ball out of sight.

Hector stayed his hand.

Despite the initial upheaval, most of the citizens of Vardaros didn't seem to be paying the Coronans much mind. It seemed they were a familiar enough sight out here in the marketplace.

A few of the shadier types ducked down into alleyways and hurried out of sight, but the vendors and law-abiding carried out their business as usual.

As the half-dozen gold-clad men passed by, they took notice of Hector. Seeming to take note of the new addition to the marketplace. But none of them seemed alarmed or like they had any flicker of recognition when they saw him.

They finally passed out of sight. Hector waited for a few more beats of his heart before he knelt down behind the stall. The woman at the front of the line tried to catch his attention but Hector waved her off.

"They passed by," he said softly to Varian. He was curled up tight, clutching a green test tube.

"Were they searching for me?" Varian asked keeping his voice low. But his eyes were wide and scared.

"I don't think so," Hector said looking down the street where they had disappeared. "They seemed like they were on a regular patrol."

"How could they be here? Even if they figured out what happened and left immediately, they'd still be days out. Why would they come here in the first place?"

"Easy now." Hector held out a hand for Varian. He took it after a moment of hesitation and allowed himself to be pulled out from under the stall.

"What are they here for?" He asked shakily, putting the test tube back in his pocket.

"Blew into town a few months back," the old woman at the front of the line said, arms crossed in impatience.

"The magic Coronan Princess toppled the Baron about six months back. Created a power vacuum, installed her puppet leader Quaid, and he called her people in for back-up a few months ago." The man in line behind the woman added, voice harsh.

"Oh, you're just salty they broke up your underground fighting ring." His companion teased. "The sheriff is a local legend and a fine man."

"He still brought the sunny boys here to ruin everything," the first man argued back.

"It's still better than how it was under the Weasel." The woman shot back. She collected her order and moved on. The two men asked for a dozen cures between them.

"But not better than it was when the Baron first came into town!" He insisted. "Back then no one was enforcing anything, and no one was getting locked up like they are now."

Varian fumbled the glassware in his hands.

The other man gave Hector and Varian a sympathetic look. "They typically only go after the murders and violent offenders now," he told them.

Varian spluttered. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

The man winked. "Of course not. But worry not, lad. More than half the population of Vardaros has warrants out for them. But the sheriff isn't in the business of locking up medicine peddlers. He focuses on the worst of the worst."

"Sure," Varian sounded unnerved. "But a Coronan would put a clumsy tailer in the stockades. Literally."

The man seemed to have no argument for that. The two paid for their goods and bid them good day.

Nearly every successive customer had something to say about the Coronan presence in their city. Some said they made the city a safer place. Some said they ruined the atmosphere. Some said they were killing the unique outlaw culture of the town. Imprisoning the people over trifles. Others still, insisted that the city had never been better and that it was recapturing its glory days.

Some feared they were becoming a vassal city of Corona’s. And some welcomed that possibility.

Varian had a new tension in his body as he went about his business. He was looking over his shoulder for the Coronans throughout the rest of the day.

They took a break for lunch and Hector grabbed them food from the market. Varian seemed to accept it reluctantly and they sat on some old crates in the alley near their stall.

Varian was kicking his feet uneasily as he took small bites from his sandwich.

"We should go," he said after a few minutes of eating.

"Why?"

"Weren't you the one who wanted to leave as soon as possible? Didn't you say you hate this city?" Varian frowned down at his sandwich.

"I don't hate the way you are able to rest and recover here. Having four stable walls, a roof over our heads, a warm hearth, and food other than field rations. At least for a little while."

“I’m really not that bad.” Varian argued.

“Yes you are,” he said picking the pickles off his sandwich. “Besides, they might not even recognize you."

"They probably will."

"I haven't seen any of your wanted posters around."

"I should at least dye or cover my hair discoloration," his fingers twisted around his blue lock of hair. "It's pretty distinctive."

"Absolutely not." Hector was quick to say.

Varian shot him a confused look.

"It's a gift from the Moon," he explained. "It should never be hidden away like something shameful."

"But they're going to recognize me!" Varian said with rising panic.

"And what if they do?" He asked shrugging. "How many of them did you see?"

"Maybe half a dozen?"

"And the two local constables. Eight people. Even if they recognized you, which is still not likely, they won't be able to do anything about it."

"Eight versus two? I don't like those odds." Varian fretted.

"Eight versus one," Hector corrected. "And I like those odds just fine."

Varian scoffed like he thought Hector had been joking.

"But it might not stay eight people for long. It could be that the Coronans have backup coming a few days behind us."

"Why would we assume that?"

"It's about a week ride to Corona on horseback. We spent three on the road and one here."

"But why would they ride for Vardaros straight away? They would first need to interrogate the prisoners, and that one guard." Hector gave just a moment to think that it would have been much easier for them if he'd silenced the guard when he'd had the chance.

"An investigation like that could take weeks for an efficient government. Much less, a decadent total monarchy… And from there, they'd have to determine we'd come here instead of making directly for Equis. Since they don't have cooperative diplomacy with Corona."

Varian nodded accepting his words with relief. "They might also assume I would refuse to leave Old Corona."

"The guard would probably know I was taking you with me to my home." Hector was more than a bit embarrassed about how much he had disclosed to the stranger, when spiraling from fresh grief. "But he would not know it was ‘The Dark Kingdom’."

"Don't be so sure. Dad once tried to warn Fred about the Sundrop and Moonstone. He probably told him then. King Fredrick probably knows exactly where we're going." He swallowed hard.

Hector spared a bitter thought that his brother might have told Fredrick Der Sonne about their home before his own son.

"But he wouldn't risk sending men out that far, right?" Varian continued. "Might circulate wanted posters or hire bounty hunters, especially in those lands with extradition treaties. But that would probably be it."

"Unless." Hector sighed, knowing he would regret saying it. "He knows we are making our way to the same place his daughter is questing towards."

There was a brief silence in the alleyway. A gust of wind blew some trash across the ground near where they sat.

"Are we? Is she?" Varian asked, distantly. His hand dropped to his gut. He sighed and handed over the other half of his ham sandwich to Ruddiger. The raccoon accepted it gladly, and started eating.

Hector frowned. "Yes. If she is the Sundrop…" The word tasted bitter on his tongue. "She's undoubtedly making her way towards the Kingdom of Selene. To the Moonstone. And I have to stop her."

Varian nodded. "So, that's why you've wanted to limit our time here."

"Yes. If she's following the spiraling trail of the black rocks, it could be many months for her. But we should still hurry so I can keep the invaders out of my homeland."

"She tends to be…" Varian trailed off considering his words. Then his expression became resolved. "She's an easily distracted, ditzy, flighty, spacy, hair-head! She would probably take twice as long as a normal person."

Hector felt his brows shoot up and gave a small laugh.

"Glad you aren't so scared of them anymore," Hector said fondly, he reached over and tussled Varian's hair.

"I never said I was scared of them!" Varian insisted pushing his hand away and fixing his hair.

The 'You didn't need to,' went unsaid.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Hector said, hoping he sounded reassuring. "Fear can be a powerful tool. Can push you to become even stronger."

Varian seemed to consider his words before he shook his head. "Anyway, we need to beat the princess to the Dark Kingdom, you said it's important she does not enter your kingdom and get to the Moonstone, right?"

"Yes."

"We could leave tomorrow." Varian offered again.

"I'd see you more recovered first. Let's give it a few more days." Hector said with finality. He finished his food and stood up whipping his hands. He reached down for Varian.

"Okay." Varian dropped his shoulders and accepted the hand up.

The hours passed, and the shadows stretched long over the market as the sunlight disappeared from the valley and the town. Some stores and stalls in the market it seemed stayed open long into the night. But many more were shutting down for the evening. Varian decided to do the same.

The two were packing down the stall. When a blond man dressed in black approached Varian.

"I hear you have some stuff to take the edge off," he said in an accented voice.

Varian waved him off. "Were closed for the day. Come back tomorrow."

The man scoffed. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Varian looked up at the man's face and noticed he had only one eye and considered him again. "I think I've seen your face on a wanted poster? Didn't you get beaten by Flynn Rider?"

Whatever the man had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. He gasped in outrage and put his hands on his hips.

"I'll have you know, I used to run this town! Everyone around these parts knows me." He took a step closer.

That's when Hector stepped in. "Who's the scarecrow?" he asked, dropping the pieces to the ground so he could approach the pair.

Varian shrugged. "Just another pushy customer."

The man seemed to rapidly reweigh his approach in light of Hector's presence. "Now, wait. Hold on. I— I'm sorry."

"That's okay." Varian took pity on the guy. "Sorry about the ‘Flynn Rider’ thing. It can be tough when the only thing anyone remembers you for is the worst day of your life…" he trailed off.

The man seemed thrown off balance again.

"It's fine, and look, forget about what I said before. I'm actually here because a friend of mine is sick."

"Sick?" Varian asked. "Anything I can do?"

He shook his head and crossed his arms. "I'm not sure it's something that can be cured. But. He was in a lot of pain today. Any chance I can get a painkiller or anti-inflammatory for him?"

He watched as Varian's face softened in sympathy.

Hector scoffed. Come on, kid. Where's that Dark Wizard of Old Corona ruthlessness?

Varian fished out two vials from the bag, one purple, and one green. He handed them over to the man.

The one-eyed man reached for his coin purse only for Varian to stop him.

"Don't worry about it. We already counted out the profits for the day."

Far from being touched by the gesture, he frowned. "Careful with that kindness, kid," he said. He tossed the blue vial up in the air and caught it and slipped it into his pocket. "You have no idea what it could lead to."

And without another word, the man turned down the street.

Varian took the money box and counted out the amount for the apothecary. Hector had the stall down and carried the pieces into the store, following close behind.

Hector watched the boy pay the old man. The apothecary accepted graciously and fussed a bit over Varian.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, lad!" he said enthusiastically.

"It's no problem," Varian said embarrassed. "Thank you for the chemicals and for letting me sell in front of your store."

"Oh, pish posh, lad!" The old man clapped him on his back. "This is the most income this shop has had in years!"

"Did you get that shipment of acids in yet?" Varian asked excitedly.

"I did actually!" The old man answered with equal enthusiasm.

"We should get going." Hector interrupted so that they wouldn't get sidetracked by their nerd talk for the next few hours.

The apothecary adjusted his glasses and peered over at Hector. "And you are?"

"That's my traveling companion, Hector." Varian reminded him. "He was with me on our last visit."

His eyes narrowed skeptically. "Who?"

"I stood here in your dusty store for hours yesterday!" Hector said miffed.

"If you say so." The old man kept staring at him with suspicious eyes.

"Anyway, we better get going. I wanna show the super cleaner to another bath house before tomorrow." Varian said.

The apothecary’s hand tightened on Varian's sleeve as he went to move away. He was looking panicked back and forth between the two of them.

"Lad, Varian. Um, would you mind helping me with something in the back?" he gave a soft yank on where he held onto Varian's sleeve.

"Of course." Varian agreed, confused by the old man's concern. He handed the cash box off to Hector before following the apothecary to the back room.

Hector waited a few minutes.

He wandered over to the book section and examined the titles. He flipped through some of the preliminary and amateur tomes. He was considering picking one up so he could understand what Varian talked about a bit better.

He didn't need to understand basic reactions or simple experiments... Maybe he'd have better luck with a thesaurus of the alchemical vocabulary?

He was looking up the difference between "caustic" and "acidic" when the room to the back door slammed open.

Varian stomped out and strode over to Hector. His face looked flushed, and his expression was angry. Hector was just about to ask what had happened when Varian took one of his hands and started to drag him out of the store. Hector just had time to replace the book before he was pulled along.

"Wait! Boy!" The apothecary called after them as he hobbled out slowly from behind the counter. "You don't have to go! I have powerful friends! We can get you out!"

Varian didn't say anything, he just sped up and pulled Hector out of the shop and then a few more blocks away. The sun had almost dipped below the horizon and the streets were getting crowded again but the two walked in silence.

"So…" Hector started. "Are you going to tell me what that was about?"

Varian shot him a look over his shoulder. They turned down a less busy side street.

"You don't have to," Hector said as he increased his pace, so he was no longer being dragged along and instead walking side by side. "I was just asking."

Varian sighed. "He just-"

"Hey now, gentlemen," a voice interrupted. "This is our street. You wanna pass through, you gotta pay the toll."

They looked up to see two men blocking their way down the street. One had a sword breaker dagger and the other had a set of brass knuckles.

Varian dropped his hand to his satchel. Hector stepped in front of him and engaged the switch on his gauntlet to draw his sword.

"Get out of here," he waved Varian away. He turned back to the muggers with an excited smile.

The mugger with the dagger rushed forward. Hector was able to immediately clash their blades together with his longer reach.

The sword breaker dagger served its function, and the edge of Hector's sword was caught in the notches along the shorter blade.

The problem was, the man in no way had the strength to leverage the blade away or control either weapon now that they were locked together.

In fact, Hector was able to give a sharp yank and pull the blade right out of his hands.

The mugger's jaw dropped in shock.

Hector grabbed him up by the front of his clothes and smirked as the man looked up at him in disbelief and trembled in fear.

He quickly shot a glance over Hector's shoulder to where Varian stood. Hector, couldn't help following his gaze to make sure—

In his instant of distraction, the other man darted forward and struck with the brass knuckles. Hector took a hard hit to the jaw. He dropped the first man and staggered back a half step.

Hector laughed at the smarting wound and put a hand on his face where he was struck. No blood. But still not bad.

He leveled a wide grin at the lucky man with the brass knuckles.

"Nice shot!" He said. The mugger seemed unnerved by his lack of a pained reaction. "Let's see if you can do it again, huh?" He raised his sword.

The mugger wound up for another punch.

But before he could react, a skinny arm reached past him.

Before either of them realized what had happened, a cloud of purple dust dispersed in the mugger’s face.

Hector felt a light yank pulling him backward. He followed it back and pulled up his cloak over his nose and mouth as he watched the mugger stagger and fall to the ground in a heap.

Hector blinked in surprise as he prodded the fallen man’s side with his foot.

"Impressive!" Hector said to Varian, who was back to rustling through his satchel again. "I hadn't seen that one before."

The dagger guy took the opportunity to find his feet and lunge forward.

Hector simply grabbed hold of him and held him with one arm again. He raised his blade.

"Wait!" Varian said. He crushed one of his adhesive traps against the crumbling brick wall of the nearby building. "Here."

Hector shrugged. "'Kay." He lifted the man and stuck him to the wall. Varian signed in relief.

"Those things have some real combat potential." Hector said amazed. Varian seemed flustered by the praise.

"Well, what about you?" Varian shot back. "Your sword is so cool! Can I see the telescoping mechanism?"

Hector beamed with pride and pulled the fabric back from the gauntlet so Varian could examine the machinery. "Thank you. Made it myself. Father was a blacksmith; mother was a clockmaker. Put a bit of both in it."

"Really? So, it's not pneumatic?"

"Nope. I have to wind it."

"Fascinating." Varian seemed totally distracted. He hesitated for only a moment before he reached out and moved Hector's wrist about so he could get a better angle. Of course, he quickly found the switch and retracted the blade.

"Wow!"

"What are you people?! You freaks won't get away with this!" The man on the wall shouted, trying to break free. "I'm gonna get out of this and—"

Varian didn't even look up; he just tossed another handful of the purple dust over his shoulder at the man. He went limp hanging off the wall.

"What about that?" Hector asked. "What was the medicinal purpose of the knockout dust?"

"I told you, to treat Dad's insomnia, modified slightly for queen kidnapping purposes, of course."

"Ah. Of course." He peeled the gauntlet off and let Varian hold it.

“What about this?” Varian asked. “Did you develop it for concealment purposes?”

Hector shook his head.

"I'm not an instinctive sword fighter," he explained as they walked away from the scene. "More used to fighting with my hands. When I was starting out, there were times when I'd outright drop my blade when cornered. The gauntlet prevented that."

"Mechanical solution to a human problem." Varian smiled as he continued examining the device. "Can I take it apart?"

"Sure. Once we get back to the inn."

"We should hurry - Ah!" Varian's toe impacted hard on a loose cobblestone. He fell down to the ground and hissed in pain.

"Varian!" Hector called out in alarm.

Varian clutched his rag-tied foot and winced.

"Are you alright?" he hovered over the kid.

Varian laughed out loud.

"I can't believe I fought a street tough, and it was the uneven ground that took me out!"

Hector might have been able to appreciate the irony if he wasn't so frustrated. He forced himself to relax.

He held out a hand. "This is unacceptable. Come on, kid, there's a cobbler's shop around the corner."

Varian was still laughing when he accepted Hector's hand up. Before Hector could initiate a shopping montage, Varian pulled him along the other way.

"Let's get out of the commercial district. The Coronans will probably be around soon, and I wanna soak my poor foot," he said limping slightly.

Hector reluctantly agreed. He scooped up and replaced his gantlet.

They went through their evening routine. They visited a different bathhouse this time. Once again Varian showed off his cleaning inventions, securing more customers for the following day.

They made their way back to their inn. The dining hall was full of the boarders gathered around tables. There was a warm glow from the hearth, people were speaking merrily, and the room smelled of warm rich food.

The two of them found a corner table and the serving girl brought them bread and stew. Hector was pleased to see Varian's eating was just about at a normal level. He still only ate about half the full meal. But the rich warm food didn't seem to disagree with him at all. He was probably out of the danger from the sharp caloric uptick and could eat normally soon.

They settled in at the table. One of the serving girls brought Hector a mead and he sipped at it slowly. She eyed him warily, as she noticed what a walking contrast the two of them made.

Which reminded him.

"So. Do you want to tell me what happened with the apothecary?" Hector asked.

Varian pushed some stew from one side of the plate to the other with his spoon. His brow furrowed. "He was rude."

Hector sighed. "No, he wasn't."

Varian's brow shot up. "No?"

"No. If I saw a well-fed man, in a full set of expensive clothes and armor, towing around a half-starved boy, beat to hell, wearing rags, I'd be inclined to blacken his eye. But this place is a midden heap. In a civilized place, I might have caught a beating by now."

"R-really?" Varian seemed upset. "People think—"

"They probably think I'm here to sell you or worse. We need to get you those new clothes as soon as possible."

"Oh. I guess I didn't realize..."

"You have to consider what things look like from the outside."

"I'm just used to people seeing me as a scary wizard type. It didn't even occur to me he’d see me as a kid in distress."

"Do you need to apologize to the apothecary?"

Varian's brows furrowed as he pushed his plate away. "Yeah…"

"Well, hello there!" a friendly voice called. Hector and Varian looked to see they were being addressed by a young couple eating at a table right next to them. Hector blinked in surprise when he realized they were their roommates.

"We saw you in the market today," the woman said. "I wish you'd have told us you were here for the peddling! We had thought— well never mind what we thought. We might have been able to help you with the guild fees and permits."

"Oh, we cut a deal with the local apothecary. No worries about that." Varian responded to the strangers cheerily.

The man still seemed fearful of him, but the woman was content to barreled on. "I see, how fortunate!"

They spoke animatedly about their silk trade and home back in Bayangor. Varian told them all about his stain remover and a concoction that could keep moths away, securing another sale. The silk merchants even agreed to spread the word about his creations. They just asked Varian to come to them when he bought his new clothes.

A man in the corner started picking away at a stringed instrument while a woman began to sing. The innkeeper stoked the hearth to make the room even brighter.

Varian slipped into the kitchen after the innkeeper. He came back out a half hour later with an empty satchel but a heavy coin purse.

Hector sipped at his second drink as Varian disassembled and reassembled his sword.

They passed the evening away in the quiet bustle of the inn.

Chapter Text

Hector dragged himself out of bed far earlier than any sane man would tolerate. He dressed quietly and efficiently. He had misgivings about leaving Varian alone with the silk merchants. But they’d earned his trust last night and he wouldn’t be long.

Hector walked down the street half-awake. He located the nicest-looking cobbler shop he could find. He entered as soon as the cobbler turned the sign around to ‘Open.’

On his way back to the inn, the city was only just coming to life. Hector stopped by the rolling food cart Varian had been so fascinated by the other day. He bought them each an egg sandwich. Now that he was sure Varian could handle more rich food, he’d need to make a point to get him filled out again, to restore his strength.

Varian was pacing the inn room when he arrived back. The roommates had already departed for the market for the day.

“Where’d you go?” Varian asked him as he shut the door.

“Wanted to grab some things,” Hector answered handing over the sandwich.

Hector watched as Varian’s brows knit together as he accepted. “Thank you.” He looked almost guilty as he ate.

That done, the two completed their morning routine.

On their way out the door from the stables, Hector caught sight of Varian in the sunlight. He reached over and picked up a chunk of Varian's hair, where a streak of blue ought to have been.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” he asked with a frown.

“Shoe polish. From the roommates. It's not permanent.” Varian explained.

“We talked about this,” Hector said feeling the black oily substance on his gloved hand. “It’s not right.”

“I’m sure ‘the Moon’ will forgive me,” Varian argued. “It’s just for a little while. So, I don’t get spotted by the guards.”

“Oh, kid,” Hector said, heart sinking in sympathy. He didn’t realize the Varian had been this scared. He wondered if he shouldn't go dispose of all the Coronans, so they don’t weigh on his nephew’s mind like this.

“It’s my hair and I’ll do what I want with it.” Varian crossed his arms and set a determined look on his face.

Hector sighed and carefully rearranged Varian's hair, so it was neat again. “As you wish.”

They made their way down the dusty streets of the busy town. As they drew closer and closer to the apothecary shop, Varian grew more nervous.

Varian clutched the strap of his bag when they came to a stop in front of the shop. He was chewing on his lower lip and steeling himself.

Hector stood outside the shop and watched through the large window as Varian entered and approached the apothecary. He still clutched the strap of his bag, head tilted downwards, and an expression that read remorseful.

He watched them talk for a while. A few times throughout the conversation, they looked over or gestured towards Hector.

As their conversation went on and on, Hector grew concerned. What if Varian said too much? What if the apothecary turned them in to the law? What exactly was he telling him? The two of them really should have gotten their stories straight before this conversation.

Hector watched the people pass by. Before, he’d been watching only for dangerous people. But now, he also had to be on the lookout for people who didn’t quite look dangerous enough. For the Coronans.

Eventually, Varian came to retrieve him with a small, satisfied smile. He swung open the door. The bell hadn’t finished its chime when Hector asked him: “What did you tell him?”

Varian blinked. “Just the truth: I was in a bad situation, and you busted me out. I didn’t realize how bad it looked; I’ll be buying new clothes here in town. I kept it vague.”

Hector sighed in relief as Varian chuckled. “I didn’t incriminate myself. Remember, I’ve been on the wrong side of the law for a while now.”

“What did he say?” Hector asked.

Varian shrugged. “Just that I’d be best served to get my new clothes and a haircut as soon as possible now that I can afford it.”

“I knew he was a good man.” Hector nodded.

They collected the pieces to set up the stall. Hector had to stop the apothecary from apologizing to him. The last thing Hector wanted was for the man to hesitate if he ever saw another kid in Varian’s situation.

They set up the stand and got to work on another day of peddling. Hector didn’t think it was possible for them to be busier than the previous day. The rumors around town had somehow become more outlandish and exaggerated than before.

Word must have spread through the local guilds. There were fat innkeepers, impatient restauranters, and easygoing bathhouse keepers lined up down the block.

What’s worse, word about the recreational substances must have also spread. There were plenty of idle roustabouts and dressed-up dandies in the line as well.

They were busy straight through the morning.

Around noon, Hector stepped away to grab them lunch from the market. As he went, he caught sight of a man who had been leaning against a nearby fruit stand. He’d immediately stood up straight and approached the front of the line as soon as Hector had passed by.

He’d almost missed the movement.

What kind of scum bag lies in wait to approach a kid until after his guardian has left?

Hector caught a flash of gold under the man's duster.

Oh. That kind.

That explains why there hadn’t been too much of a ruckus from those further back in the line.

Varian turned back to him with an urgent look and shook his head.

Let me handle this, okay?

Hector crossed his arms and stood waiting.

He hated this. His fingers twitched to draw his sword and lunge at the Coronan, but he refrained.

Why was the kid who nearly overthrew a kingdom so nonconfrontational here? Things were not nearly so bad that they should have to resort to nonviolence.

But he trusted Varian. He knew how to handle these people better than Hector did. He did convince the entire royal guard to eat strange, discolored baked goods, after all.

The man was tall and broad, with sandy brown hair and a beard to match it. He wasn’t as tall as Hector but he certainly towered over Varian.

Varian was glad he’d ignored Hector's complaints and covered his hair discoloration.

The guard was feeling him out. Not quite convinced Varian was who he thought he was. But pretty convinced. He was looking for something to incriminate him. He stopped short of outright accusations. 

Fortunately, Coronans were not skilled interrogators. That took tact, empathy, and patience. He’d never met a Coronan royal guard with any one of those traits. The Captain would usually lash out in violence before he got to his second round of questioning.

At first, the Coronan asked after mundane potions, before he moved on to Varian’s signature creations. The things that “The Dark Wizard of Old Corona” was commonly known to have.

Each time the guard made mention of automatons, exploding green potions, or even knockout powder, Varian would play dumb.

The only drawback of this was the guard growing increasingly irritated.

“Skilled alchemist like yourself, you must have other things as well," he pressed.

“What are you looking for, specifically, Sir?”

“What about something to make someone more honest? I’m trying to expose a liar.” His eyes narrowed, as he glared Varian down.

Varian swallowed but kept his voice steady. “Seems farfetched. Never heard of such a thing.”

“Never?” he said in open disbelief.

“Nope. Seems more like magic than alchemy to me,” Varian said, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.

“I see. What about your monster?”

“What monster?” Varian made a point of widening his eyes and cocking his head to the side.

“There have been reports all around town. Huge grey thing. With fangs and claws.”

“Oh!” Varian faked a laugh. “I’m afraid the rumors around town have gotten out of control. I have a pet raccoon but nothing like you described. I also can’t cast a protection spell on you to keep away dark spirits either,” he said with a light joking tone.

“I see,” he switched tactics. “Well then, I need to get a gift for my partner. We are almost due for Day of Hearts, after all."

“N—” No it's not. Varian let the words die out.

It was October, and Day of Hearts was back in February. But that was what the guard wanted, wasn’t it? For Varian to correct him.

“Not familiar,” he said instead.

“No? It's a major holiday in Corona,” he pressed.

Varian shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. Never been.”

“Really, now? You’re pretty far west. Did you not come from there?”

“Nope. Came from the opposite direction. In fact, we’re heading there next.”

“Oh really?” he sneered, dropping the false conversational tone.  “Say the word, and we’d be more than willing to give you an armed escort.” He said those last two words like a threat, placing both palms flat on the countertop and leaning forward.

Varian swallowed hard. “Armed escort? Are you one of those golden knights I’ve seen walking around?”

The man’s face dropped. “Yes, I am." He did not seem pleased to be admitting that.

“No thank you,” Varian said. “But you’re holding up the line. If you don’t have an order, I’m going to have to ask you to move along.”

He didn’t seem to like that. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back. You can count on it.”

The man was making eye contact as he said that part.

A lot of eye contact.

Entirely too much eye contact.

Varian wished he could defiantly meet his gaze but found himself looking down.

He must be floundering out here because Hector was now striding towards the two of them. They needed to—

“Hey, loser! You’re holding up the line!” a voice called up from behind the armored man.

A woman with long wavy auburn hair was standing directly behind him with hands on her hips. Behind her on each side, stood a large man with hands resting on sword pummels.

The man’s face twisted in annoyance. “Take a hike, Horse Girl,”

The woman drew a sword and adopted a wider stance. “'Horse Girl?' You looking to get trampled?”

He looked at her, her companions, the line, then back to Varian. He dropped his hand from his sword.

“Whatever. I don’t have time to waste here all day.” He turned away and strode down the street toward the end of the market.

The woman glared after the guard. Turned away as she was, Varian noticed a distinctive beauty mark below her eye.

“Thank you,” Varian said letting out a relieved breath.

“No problem, kid.” She favored him with a smile. “Guys like that are so full of themselves. Need to learn to pick on someone their own size.”

“What can I get for my savior?” Varian asked.

“One of my employees brought us some painkillers. They were very effective. Can I get some of those?” She dropped a heavy sack of coins out onto the counter. Varian nodded and got her what she’d requested.

“I hope you are alright, ma’am.”

She cringed at the word. “Stalyan,” she was quick to correct him. “And I’m fine. It’s just my dad.”

“Your dad?” Varian felt an ache in his chest.

Dad.

“Yeah, things have been tough ever since he got sick.” She ran a manicured finger over one of the glass vials. “Business has been rough. Hard to keep the lights on without him.”

“Here,” he pushed the money back towards her. “You can have them.”

She chuckled. “Oh yeah, Anthony warned me about that. I’m not taking it back. That’s all for you,” she said with finality.

“It’s okay I don’t mind,” he tried again.

“Absolutely not. I always pay my debts. And I’m no charity case.”

“Alright...” Varian said, reluctantly accepting the money. But he still reached over to the post where he had strung his glowing test tubes.

He plucked one off the wire.

He shook it up, so the pink light shined brighter. “Here. Since it’s hard to keep the lights on.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “It’s just a figure of speech, kid.”

“Still.” he put the vial in her hand.

“It is pretty,” she said examining it closely. “Alright, I’ll take it."

“Hey! You never said the colorful lights were for sale!” Someone shouted up from the line.

“Ten thousand gold, ya clod!” Varian shouted back. Hector had taught him it was best to be assertive and firm with these people.

“Booo!” the man jeered.

“Go buy them from the other alchemist with miraculous products!” Varian shouted in return.

The man who booed hollered back. But most others in the line chuckled good-naturedly or grumbled without any real malice.

“One last thing.” Stalyan produced a sealed letter from her sleeve.

“What is it?” Varian asked, accepting the letter.

“An invitation,” she explained. “Come over for lunch around noon tomorrow and we can talk business.”

“Oh. Well, I should probably ask…” Varian trailed off. Ask who? He was only fourteen. All his life he had to ask his dad for permission to go places and do things. But now he had no one to ask. Grief hit him at the strangest of times. He took a deep breath.

“I gotta run it by my traveling companion. Can he come to?”

“Of course. And no pressure,” she said. “I just feel like we could help each other out.” She nodded to the medicine and the tube of pink light.

“Okay,” Varian nodded in return. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great. Hope to see you tomorrow.” With that, she walked away. The two men with her followed close behind. The people in the line were whispering amongst themselves as she left.

The next man in line stepped up. He wore an old green cloak. As he pushed back the hood, the people in the line behind him stiffened or gasped, and all the whispering died out.

He had a kind old face with deep smile lines. He wore a relaxed expression, even as he clutched one arm close to himself.

Varian noticed Stalyan cast a glance back at the older man and quicken her pace.

“Hello there,” he greeted with a smile. He had a deep rich voice. “I always like to meet new people in my city.”

“It’s a nice city,” Varian said. “How can I help you?”

“Need something for minor abrasions, bruising, and swelling.”

Varian frowned. “Yeah sure. Everything okay?”

The man laughed lightly. “Sure. Someone robbed my market stall and broke my beehive boxes. That’s all.”

“You’re a beekeeper?”

“Not really, I only work at the market on the weekend as a hobby. I have a day job during the week,” he explained. “It doesn’t always make me too popular in this town. Some people make it a kind of game to try to rob my stall at the market.”

“Is that why you need the medicine? From fighting?”

“Oh heavens no. I might not look it, but I’m the quickest blade in the west,” he said proudly.

He had a hand on the pummel of his sword. He withdrew an apple from his pocket and tossed it up into the air. Varian watched in awe as he swiftly drew his sword and sliced the apple into pieces midair. The slices fell in a neat pile in his open palm.

“They call me Quaid the Blade. I could have stopped the robbers, but I’d rather have saved my bees.”

“Whoa!” Varian said, impressed by his humble-samurai, aged-warrior persona. He was so cool! Like a wise mentor from a Flynn Rider book.

“If not from fighting then how did you get hurt?” Varian had to ask.

“Bee stings,” he explained. He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt revealing several swollen, painful-looking stings. “The rascals tipped over the hive box. But it’s fine. I’d been meaning to transport the hive system to a larger box for a while now.”

Varian considered the man.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sell these…” he hesitated. “But they aren’t technically harmful.”

He grabbed a small bag containing three purple capsules. “These will knock out the bees so you can transport their hive to a new box while they are asleep.”

The man’s brows shot up.

“You have these for beekeeping?” he asked skeptically.

“Well… technically they were developed for insomnia. But we used it to remove a wasp’s nest from the old barn last spring.” Varian quickly removed the label that read “Ariannium” from the bag of the knockout powder.

“I see,” Quaid said accepting the chemicals.

“Just, uh, make sure you don’t use them on any people, okay? Just bees.”

“Just bees,” the man nodded. “I promise.”

I promise.

Varian frowned, as he pushed those intrusive thoughts away.

“And how much are these?” Quaid asked.

“You can just have them. I never picked a price because I didn’t want to sell them anyway.”

“Well, I can’t take them for free,” the man teased. “So, here’s something from my stand.” He handed Varian a brick-sized block of beeswax. “I make way more on the honey anyway. I know you alchemist types have all sorts of uses for the stuff.”

“Really?”

“Sure kid!” Beeswax is great for skin lesions, pain relief, and fungal infections.”

Varian blinked at the sudden rush of enthusiasm from the older man. “I had no idea.”

“Absolutely,” he said growing more excited to talk about his passion. “It’s also a top quality, anti-bacterial, vitamin-rich, hypoallergenic, humectant.”

“Whoa...” Varian smiled.

He had no idea why everyone seemed uneasy around this guy? He was great!

“Thank you so much!” he said, picking up the hefty hunk of beeswax.

“No problem, son, we wouldn’t want people to think you’re bribing the sheriff.”

Varian dropped the wax in his hands, and it clattered on the countertop.

“T-the sheriff?”

“Yes,” the man smiled. “Sheriff Quaid the Blade.”

“I see. Yes sir.” Varian heard his voice say distantly.

The sheriff.

The one Rapunzel appointed.

I promise.

“Thanks for bringing your skills to this town,” Quaid said, voice taking on a note of concern at Varian's reaction. “I’d better get back to my bees. I’ll see you around the market.”

Varian swallowed. “Yes. Good day, Sir.”

Varian’s mind raced. He absently helped the next few people in line. Hector was shooting him concerned looks off to his side, but Varian just shook his head and carried on.

He wanted to do as much as possible tonight. Stay open as late as possible. Make as much as he could. If they had to flee the city tonight, he wanted to have as large a nest egg as possible.

The next person in line shuffled forward. “Hey now, I want some of that fever breaker.”

Varian frowned. “Sorry, sir. Fresh out.”

“Oh no, how unfortunate,” the man spoke with one hand gesticulating while the other stayed in his pocket. “Can you double-check for me?”

Varian gave a sympathetic smile. “Sure thing.”

Varian ducked down beneath the counter and looked through the trunk. He wasn’t expecting to find what he was looking for but there was no harm in—"

Thunk!

“AAARGH!”

Varian sprang up from under the counter at the sound of the impact and blood-curdling scream.

The man must have leaned forward and reached out across the counter. His fingertips were a mere inch from Varian’s coin box.

And the back of his hand had a polished steel blade driven straight through it.

The blade stabbed through skin, flesh, and bone, and pinned the hand to the top of the counter.

Hector stood snarling. One hand clutching the hilt of the dagger and the other on the lid of the box.

Varian’s gaze rested on the pool of scarlet growing on the rough wooden surface. He had only a few seconds to recognize what he was seeing before his vision tunneled and grew blurry.

He faintly registered he was listing over sideways before everything went black…

Light flooded in.

Sounds started up again.

Varian opened his eyes and felt a wave of dizziness.

He took a deep breath and it passed slowly.

He opened his eyes and found he was lying down on the hard ground. He felt the now familiar texture of a black cloak under him. His legs were propped up on Hector’s lap.

“Wha...?”

“Easy now,” Hector said. “Don’t try to get up. Keep your legs up above your heart for a little longer.”

“Okay...” Varian relaxed and looked up into the sky. He saw the grey sky through the tops of trees. “Where are we?”

“Just relax,” Hector reminded him. “Outskirts of town. Get some space and fresh air.”

Varian faintly realized Hector had one of his wrists in hand. Both of their gloves were gone.

Hector was taking his pulse.

“I see,” Varian said as he brought up his other hand to rub his eyes.

“So. Blood, huh?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I don’t want to picture it.”

“Is it that bad?” Hector asked, releasing his wrist.

“Pretty much.” Varian took it as his cue to sit up.

He immediately felt the head rush, but steadied himself breathing deeply. He absently felt Hector steady him.

“Just a few drops and I’m out,” he admitted.

Hector’s expression was stricken.

“That is… troubling,” Hector said, turning up his face to examine his eyes. Probably looking for signs of concussion.

Varian allowed himself to be looked over. “It can be. I always feel bad when someone else gets hurt and needs help. Then I distract everybody by passing right out.”

“An enormous vulnerability,” Hector said, sounding almost panicked. He dropped his hands away.

“How long does it usually take?”

“Matter of seconds. But sometimes I can look away in time.”

“How long are you usually unconscious for?”

“Maybe an hour at most?”

“What do you need?”

“I’m not sure… some water?”

He had a canteen in his hands before he even realized it.

“Anyhow...” Varian said trying to change the subject. “What was the haul today?”

Hector gave him a flat look to let him know he was not distracted. But he graciously allowed them to move on, nonetheless.

“Not sure. Haven’t opened the coin box.”

“How much did the apothecary take?” Varian asked rubbing his eyes again.

“None,” Hector said backing up a bit.

“Really?”

“Well, I…” Hector hesitated. “I beseeched him for a treatment for your condition when he said he had none, I indicated to him that our business was concluded for the day and that it was imperative that we depart immediately... He simply never brought it up.”

Varian blinked. “So… you scared the Sunshine out of him?”

“Yeah...”

Varian laughed. “I guess tomorrow it’ll be your turn to apologize to him.”

Hector shrugged and hummed noncommittally.

Varian drank some more water and steadied himself. He didn’t want to get up and start walking around just yet, so he counted out the day’s earnings. If not an apology, Varian would at least make sure the apothecary got his cut.

He smiled as he counted the coins out on the cloak.

“I think I finally have enough for my alchemy supplies and everything else!” He felt the warm joy of a job well done. So much could have gone wrong, but he managed to achieve his goals without catastrophe for once!

“Already?” Hector looked relieved. “Huh, that’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I thought the alchemy stuff was super expensive.”

“Not really,” Varian said separating it into piles. “This one will probably be good for the alchemy supplies. This will be enough for my clothes, supplies, and rations, and this will be to pay you back I think… unless. Wait, how much was the inn?”

Hector looked at him like he was speaking ancient Neserdnian all of a sudden. “What do you mean?”

“Like what was the cost per night?” Varian said confused by Hector’s confusion.

“Do you think that I don’t have money?” Hector asked him, still perplexed. “Because I can assure you, I do. I raided the holy treasury before I left. I already paid the cobbler for a new pair of boots for you. We just have to go get them fitted.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Varian blinked with surprise. “And how much was that?” he asked, putting another few coins on Hector’s pile.

Hector reached out and put a hand on his to stop him. “What are you talking about?”

“Paying you back?”

“Is it… normal in your kingdom to pay back your own uncle?” Hector asked, still perplexed.

Varian blinked once.

Then again.

“What?”

“What?”

“Uncle?!”

“Yes?”

Varian watched as realization dawned on Hector's face.

“Did you not-? Did I never—?!”

“No!” Varian said back, voice rising in shock. “You just said he meant a lot to you! You never mentioned you were family! That we’re—!”

Family?

Varian felt like he was going to faint again.

Hector put his head in his hands and groaned.

“I am so sorry I never explained any of this to you-! But wait.” Hector looked like he had only just realized something. “Stars above! You came all this way with me, not knowing who I was? Didn’t Quirin ever teach you not to talk to strangers?!”

“I didn’t have a lot of options, remember?!” Varian shot back.

“Of course. Of course. I’m sorry,” he corrected himself immediately. “But, in all seriousness, what did you think?”

“I don’t know! A lot of different things. My working theory was you were an old war buddy. Maybe Dad saved your life once, so you were honor-bound to avenge his death. Then that switched to delivering me to a safe place in the Dark Kingdom?”

“I am your next of kin,” Hector said. His eyes were wide, trying to impress upon Varian the sincerity of his words. “By the laws of every land on this continent, I am your legal guardian.”

Varian was trying to wrap his mind around just that when Hector kept going.

“I suppose your aunt Adira could hypothetically challenge me for custody, seeing as she’s older. But she’s been missing for decades, and I would trounce her if she tried.”

“I have an aunt?!” he asked. He could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Yes!” Hector said. “Edmond might also claim to be your uncle, but that’s a bit different.”

It was too much too fast.

“You’re serious? You’re really…?” Varian trailed off. He had to be sure. If this was some sick joke, he’d never forgive the man.

“Yes.” Hector picked up Varian’s hand from the coin pile and squeezed in gently. “I swear it by the Moon and the Stars and for all my days in the Darkness: I am Quirin’s brother. Your uncle. I intend to look after you from now on, at least until you come of age.”

“You do?” Varian still just couldn’t seem to believe it.

“Yes!” he insisted. “And I’m not just going to dump you somewhere random in Selene, I am taking you to my home. And you aren’t going to pay me a single cent.”

“But…” Varian willed his voice to stay steady. “I know what a burden I can be. And have been.”

“What are you talking about?” Hector looked like he was getting frustrated again.

“Well, with the rations on the road it seemed like you were giving me very little- not that I’m complaining of course!” he was quick to correct himself. “I’m very grateful. I just... got the impression I ought to figure out how to pay my own way.”

“Varian, I was trying to prevent you from dying.” Hector looked stricken. “You could die going from a state of near starvation to suddenly eating food like normal. It’s dangerous.”

“I- really?” Varian had never heard of such a thing.

“Yes, back in Selene there was an old tale: A Prince Commander and a lowly conscript got separated from their company while out on campaign. They traveled through the Schickard Tundra for weeks and weeks with almost no food. When they reached civilization, they were naught but skin and bones. The two men returned to their families. The Queen threw a massive feast for the prince, and everyone ate and drank heavily. Save for the lowly conscript, who returned to his home in the slums and shared a simple loaf of bread with his family. He recovered enough to visit his friend in a week’s time. Only to discover the prince had dropped dead on the night of their return. Granted, the tale was told as a warning against the perils of excess and opulence, but also the dangers of starvation recovery.”

It was the most words Varian had ever heard from Hector at one time. He seemed like he was explaining himself out of guilt.

“I would never deprive you of food,” he sounded absolutely gutted as he pressed on. “You must believe me.”

“Oh,” was all Varian could think to say. Then after a moment. “You’re really serious? We’re family? And you- you want to be?” Varian’s shoulders fell, and his gaze fell to the ground to hide his emotions. “Even though I’m a criminal and a danger to everyone around me, and I’m not much fun, and I only talk about boring stuff, and I’m not a good kid?”

Hector, it seemed, was done with words.

He didn’t say any more. He just wrapped his arms around Varian and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Varian felt like all the breath left his body. Not because he was being squeezed particularly tightly, but because of how unfamiliar he found he was with the warm, safe sensation.

When was the last time he had been hugged? Definitely before dad was encased, and probably a long time before that. Their relationship had become so strained near the end.

Varian felt his throat tighten and tears welled up in his eyes, but he had no idea why. The feelings he felt before the hug were shock and cautious hope.

But now, he felt his throat tighten and tears well up in his eyes. Like he wanted to do nothing more than break down into a hysterical mess of sobs in his arms. Let out everything he had bottled up all these months now that he finally felt safe to do so.

He hugged Hector back. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and bite his bottom lip to stop himself from breaking down, but he just barely managed it. He tightened his arms around Hector, but the man didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed his back and murmured soft words Varian could not understand. It was like dad used to do when he was younger and before they started fighting all the time.

That was too much.

He sobbed and hiccupped. Tears were falling from his eyes and his nose was running, but he couldn’t stop.

His stupid mind thought about how he was getting Hector’s shirt wet and probably making a fool of himself, but he just couldn’t stop.

It was both painful and a massive relief all at once.

Eventually, his sobs and trembling settled down. Varian’s mind was racing. His throat was sore, and his eyes stung. He was not sure how long they stayed like that before Hector pulled back.

“You are an amazing kid and I’m honored to be your uncle. Understand?”

Varian was surprised to see there were unshed tears in the man’s eyes as well.

“Varian, do you understand me?”

Varian did not trust his voice, so he just nodded.

Hector nodded as well. “Good.”

He scooped up the pile of coins Varian had designated for him and dropped them back into the box.

Varian was letting his breathing settle down and rubbing his face clear when Ruddiger insisted it was his turn to look him over. He laughed as the raccoon produced an apple from somewhere and presented it to Varian.

He ate it with small slow bites.

He saw Hector wipe his own nose and eyes clear.

Varian’s mind wondered.

Andrew had cried in front of him before. The Saporian even sought him out for comfort back in the dungeons. But he’d always seemed humiliated and ashamed. He would become furious and lash out when he came back to his senses. Varian remembered the surreal feeling of a man twice his age holding him tightly and crying into his shoulder. While he sat stiffly, just waiting for Andrew to get himself together and take his humiliation at the vulnerability out on him.

He supposed he didn’t hold it against the man, it was just another dehumanizing aspect of close-quarters incarceration. Andrew had also been Varian’s shoulder to cry on a few times. Though it was hardly a real comfort. More like desperate dark moments he didn’t care to dwell on.

Dad was different too. His father never cried in front of him. Not even when mom died. Not intentionally anyway. Varian had still caught him a few times behind closed doors when he was very young. And hugging dad was a rare comfort. And he didn’t count the quick relieved embraces he got after a disaster, the instant before his father’s face twisted in disappointment and shame.

Hector was different. He didn’t seem to mind being vulnerable in that way. He seemed to take comfort from it. Like hugging the weird kid you’d met a week ago was the most natural thing in the world. He supposed that Hector had been processing the fact that they were family for longer than he had.

And unlike Andrew or Dad (near the end), Varian felt so much better. He felt like he wasn’t alone anymore.

An uncle, huh? Still didn’t feel real.

He handed the apple core over to Ruddiger who nibbled at it.

Hector cleared his throat and broke the calm silence.

“Varian, can you do something for me?”

The small silver bell chimed as they left the cobbler shop.

Varian looked down at his shiny new boots curiously.

“So why was this so important to you?” he asked, tightening the cloak around himself. The chilly fall air was making him shiver and Hector insisted he wear his cloak until he got one that fit him properly.

“It’s complicated,” Hector said, looking away. “I went without for a long dark period in my childhood. It was wretched. I always swore if I ever had a kid, they’d never go without.” Hector seemed to realize what he’d just said with a start. “Not that I’m saying you’re- I just mean—”

“Thank you,” Varian cut him off.

Hector cleared his throat again. “Well anyway. Let’s pick a restaurant, find a bathhouse to scrub the paint off your head, and call it a night.”

“’Kay.”

The two of them went about their business as usual. But Varian felt a new sense of ease. Each step down the uneven cobblestone street felt lighter.

The serving boy at the restaurant brought them their food. Varian instinctively reached for his coins.

“Don’t even think about it,” Hector said as he paid the lad and shooed him away.

The potatoes were lumpy, and the meat was tough and hard to chew. Hector complained the whole time, but Varian thought it was amazing.

Maybe the best meal of his life.

“So, you’re my dad’s brother huh?” He asked as they walked back to the inn.

“I am.”

“And you, dad, and my aunt Adira are all a part of this spiritual warrior order ‘The Dark Brotherhood,’ right?”

“We are.”

“So, when you call him ‘brother’ you do mean it in a familial way, and not in a weird cult kind of way, right?”

Hector seemed to give that some thought. “…Yes? Yes.”

“Hector.” Varian frowned, not a fan of the hesitation there.

“I said ‘yes,’ okay?” Hector laughed. “It all got mixed up, alright? Maybe it started out as ‘My Holy Brother and Sister in Darkness’ but in almost no time, we were family.”

“Do I have any other relatives I should know about?”

“None on your dad’s side. Maybe on your mom’s? I could not say for sure. Your aunt has many living relatives, though they do not acknowledge each other. And I have no other family than the Brotherhood.” Hector looked hesitant before he gave Varian’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And you, of course.”

“Of course,” Varian echoed, still slightly mystified by the revelation.

“So, tell me about my aunt,” he prompted. “Adira, right?”

“Yes,” Hector said. He looked at Varian as if trying hard to decide what to say. “I have my own feelings about her. But. It wouldn’t be right of me to deprive you of a positive relationship with your aunt."

“Just be honest.” Varian encouraged him.

He took a deep breath. “She was a great warrior. A compassionate soul. She was the biggest show-off I’ve ever known.” Hector paused to glance at Varian briefly before he carried on.

“She always wore a face of Moon Phase paint, even outside of festival days. First Quarter Moon of course.” Hector chuckled as if at some private joke. “She stood nearly as tall as your father. Though, not as tall as most of the warriors touched by the Moon.”

“I don’t know,” Varian said thinking of how dad used to stand taller than everyone in town. “Seems pretty tall to me.”

“I bet everyone seems pretty tall to you,” Hector smirked.

Varian stuck out a leg to trip Hector. He managed to hook his leg and Hector did stumble a half step but recovered almost immediately.

Hector just laughed as they continued their stroll.

“The Moon gave her pure white hair, so the world would know she had a pure heart and wisdom beyond her years. But the Moon kept her eyebrows brown, so she’d still look like a moron.”

Varian giggled and Hector stared up into the sky with a smile.

“Once, on our first Midwinter Night as a family—”

“First what?”

Varian started as he realized what he’d done: Interrupt with an intrusive question. Sure, Hector said he encouraged Varian’s questions. But still, he was surprised at how bold he'd become in such a short amount of time.

“Midwinter Night.” Varian snapped his attention back to Hector as he spoke. “The biggest Holiday in Selene. Takes place on the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. Families gather and exchange gifts. Our first year together, Adira had just gotten her ears pierced.” Hector gestured towards the fangs driven through his own earlobes.

“I bought her a pair of expensive golden hoops. Elegant and classic. She and I were both outsiders in the royal court. Didn’t really fit in with the fancy lords and ladies. I wanted her to have something she could show off. Something to help her fit in.”

He scoffed. “Quirin found her a pair of edgy black dangling earrings from a random traveling merchant. Made of obsidian, carved to a point. A reflection of her fearsome, unconventional nature. Something to help her stand out.”

“My dad did that?” Varian was too surprised to fret over all his questions again. He recalled his dad discouraging him from doing alchemy projects that would draw attention. He remembered having to beg and plead to be allowed to enter the Science Expo. The idea of his dad encouraging someone to stand out was just bizarre.

“Sure did. And the two of us bickered over who got the best gift, and whose gift she would wear for the feast that night. But she surprised everyone by wearing one of each.” Hector laughed softly at the memory.

“That weirdo wore the mismatched earrings from that day on, and for as long as I knew her. I wonder if she still does...” The smile fell from his face, and he looked back to Varian.

“Her people are duotheists, so she believed in the existence of the Sundrop from the very start. We fought about it a lot,” he sighed. “I should have known she had the right of things. The Moon bestowed the Shadow Blade upon her, after all.”

“Are you going to reconcile with her? If you see her again?” Varian asked carefully.

“I haven’t decided.” Hector hedged.

“Why not? The Sundrop is real. That means she’s not really a traitor, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Hector’s frown deepened. “She still wants to lead the Sundrop and the Coronans to the Moonstone. This is still treason.”

“Oh, come on. Wouldn’t you rather get along with her than keep fighting?” Varian hoped he was convincing. “I was so excited to discover I have one family member. Eventually having two would be a dream come true!”

“She was there, you know,” Hector said, voice dropping low. “On the night of the Battle of Old Corona.”

“She was?” Varian felt the excitement drain away. “Did she see what happened?”

“I don’t know for sure, but she was there at least after the battle was over, she’s likely been guiding the princess and her royal procession for months now. There’s no way she didn’t know. She did nothing for you.”

“Did she not understand what was happening?” he asked softly. “…or did she think I was getting what I deserved?”

Is that what dad would have thought?

“Did she even care?” Hector asked bitterly. He turned towards Varian and must have noticed him starting to spiral into doubt.

“But hey, we don’t know for sure what happened,” Hector told him. “It is possible it was a misunderstanding.”

Varian nodded. He smiled. He hoped it didn’t look as brittle and forced as it felt.

“Well, I’m glad we could clear all that up. But that was a kind of a bummer. Let’s try to do something fun tomorrow, alright?” he looked over to Hector for approval.

Hector’s posture relaxed in relief. “Agreed.”

Chapter Text

The man in the cloak sat in the seedy Vardaros restaurant. He tried to keep his hood up and face cast down. He was an old familiar face in his town. On another day, he might walk into a place like this, head held high, to make a statement. But today he was only here to observe.

His partner was sitting at his side. She was also concealed. If he had his way, he would have taken on this project alone. But he had to respect her rank, after all.

The bartender wasn't bothering with them at all. He was completely absorbed in fiddling with a brand-new dish scrubber.

They both peered over at the two people sitting at the table tucked away in the corner of the room.

Sitting across the room, there was a large man. He sat leaned back, with an arm draped over the back of the seat to his right. He had a leg propped up on the chair across from him under the table. He was dressed head to toe in black, dawned a protective layer of brigandine or gambeson. He had fearsome animal fangs pierced through his ears. His eyes were sharp and dangerous. They were a strange green color and almost seemed to catch the light in an unnatural way. His face was set in a stony expression. It would flicker to open annoyance whenever someone other than the serving girl passed by too close to the table.

His whole posture seemed taught like a bowstring ready to be loosed at any second. There was a wicked sharp blade embedded into the old wooden tabletop. The man was drumming his fingertips mere inches from where the live steel stood. As if anxious to take hold of it and lash out.

In the seat to his right, a kid was building a tower out of the restaurant's square drink coasters.

He stacked them up like a house of cards. Leaning two coasters on each other, then another two, placing a flat coaster on top. And then building up another layer. The small kid had about 4 layers built up in a pyramid.

He had a small, relaxed grin on his face. His posture was calm, not at all disturbed by the furious feral energy beside him. The kid wasn't tall enough for his feet to reach the floor from his seat, so they dangled, and he idly kicked them as he worked.

The serving girl working the room would occasionally deliver small stacks of more coasters to the kid. He would accept them with a big smile and some grateful words.

The kid was rail-thin and wore tattered clothes under a thick black cloak that had obviously come from the other man's ensemble. He had his greasy black shaggy hair tied back and wore cracked goggles on the top of his head.

Concerningly, there was a purple bruise on the kid's cheek and chin.

And most disturbing of all, there was a fading greyish-brown bruise about his throat. Like someone had tried to choke the life out of him.

"Well," he said to his partner. "You reckon they're really the ones?"

"Not sure," the young woman said. She had a wanted poster unrolled out on the bar top between them.

It was old. Not having been in circulation for a while. Sealed with the violet sun, rather than the town seal of Vardaros. Meaning the poster was intended for local circulation in the kingdom of Corona.

"The guys out on the street swear it's him," he reminded her.

"What about you? You met him too, right?" she squinted her eyes at the illustration on the poster.

He sighed. "I've got my gut feeling and I've got what my eyes are telling me. But…" he hesitated. "You know I've been fooled before."

"He doesn't look like much," she furrowed her brows. "How could someone like that let himself be treated like that? Besides, neither of them even looks Coronan."

"We both know looks can be deceiving."

If she wasn't on board, there would be no proceeding. He almost wished she would drop it, so they could move on and leave them alone.

He looked at the poster, then back to the strange pair in the corner.

The serving girl once again stopped at their table and gave the boy another stack of coasters.

"Why thank you, my loyal Royal Stewart!" the kid joked. "For the valuable building materials."

"Of course, My Liege!" The woman laughed, playing along. "Anything for the prosperity of Fortress Flamel."

"Fortress Flamel thanks you. With your help, it will stand tall for another thousand years!"

The woman gave an exaggerated curtsey with a flourish and got back to work.

The man at the bar looked back to the young lady at his side as she frowned. "He might not seem dangerous. But… I think he's from Corona."

"So, what do we do?" he frowned and leaned back in his seat. "The good cop/bad cop approach didn't seem to work. And the guys are suggesting we cancel the festival of streetlights."

He watched her fingers curl into a fist. He imagined he could hear her teeth grinding from where he sat.

"Of course, they do," she said bitterly. "Bet they would never say that if it was a Coronan holiday like 'Fuzzy Smiley Pony Day.'"

"They are just trying to help," he said for the millionth time. He wished she would understand.

"They are trying to undermine us," she spat.

It was a familiar argument between the two of them. He didn't want to get distracted so instead of arguing, he just said. "Well, we have point on this case, okay? Because we are the best ones for the job. So, what do you want to do?"

She rolled up the poster on the bar top. "Let me talk to him before we do anything. I'll make up a reason. See what comes of it. Just make sure the guys out on the street don't do anything in the meantime."

"Agreed," he said. Though he did dread having that conversation. "We better move quickly before anyone else in the city makes a move. That would create an untenable threat."

"Let's go."

Fortress Flamel had crumbled into the sea, but the eggs and bacon were a fine consolation.

Varian and Hector finished their breakfast and were making their way down the street.

The morning had been a nice one. They awoke to find the silk merchants they had been sharing with, had moved on and evacuated the room. They did leave behind a kind note to look them up if they ever traveled through Bayangor.

"Good," Hector had said. "Hopefully they don't put anyone else in there before we leave."

Varian balked. "They were some of my best customers. You totally don't get the whole point of inns."

"Nope," Hector agreed easily.

Hector approached the Innkeeper as she was checking in travelers arriving in the early morning. She was handing a small iron key over to a mustachioed man when Hector slipped the woman a golden coin and whispered something in her ear.

"Oh! My mistake," the Innkeeper said to the traveler, taking back the key. "Turns out there's no vacancy in the small room with the family of traveling peddlers."

Hector nodded in satisfaction.

And Varian almost forgot to breathe when she said it.

Family? That was what they were after all. He couldn't help but laugh at the sweet strangeness of it all.

Hector said something else to the Innkeeper and tried to hand her another coin, but she scowled.

"No! You cannot bring your wild beasts inside my inn! They'll shed all over the furniture and I ain't washing the fleas out of my linens!" She admonished him. "Don't press your luck!"

Hector slunk back to Varian's side looking thoroughly dejected. "They do not have fleas."

Varian laughed. Nothing could ruin this day he had decided.

Not even the light flakes of snow falling from the grey sky could damper his mood. Wrapped up in the borrowed cloak, the cold could not touch him.

He felt even more sure when they entered the Apothecary shop. The old man greeted them with a wide welcoming smile.

He finished up a tense-looking conversation with a pair of customers. At its conclusion, the pair exited the shop through the back door into the alley.

"Feeling better today, lad?" he asked as Varian approached.

"Much!" Varian said as he pulled his cut of the prophets out of his satchel. "And this is for you."

"Oh, thank you, but you didn’t have to! I'm just pleased you are feeling better. I was quite worried." Despite his words, the Apothecary still held out his hand and readily accepted the money.

"And sorry, if Hector was… impolite yesterday," Varian added.

"Impolite?" the Apothecary said flatly. "Boy, he threatened to tear out my throat with his teeth."

Varian looked back over to Hector who just shrugged in response.

"Sorry," was all Varian could think to say.

He waved it off. "No matter. In fact, it helped assuage some of my concerns from the other day."

Varian gave a nervous chuckle.

"So, were you going to set up outside again?" the old man asked.

"No, I think I might be done with that for a bit. I'm supposed to be resting and recovering and working in the sun all day isn't the best way. At least that's what Hector says..." Varian pouted a bit at that last part.

"Your big brother is probably right about that," the Apothecary said as he turned toward his back room.

Varian was about to correct the old man when he pressed on.

"But just because you're done with this city, don't mean she's done with you!" The Apothecary turned back towards Varian with a thick stack of paper. "People have been sending their order requests for you here to me." He slid the stack over to him.

Varian felt his eyes widen in horror. He flipped through the stack. "Wha—? What? Did every business in town commission me?"

The Apothecary chuckled. "Nearly all of them."

"No more! Do not accept any more. We were planning on leaving town in just a few days!"

The Apothecary laughed. "And you were worried you wouldn't be able to get any business in this town. Here, I'll take the simple medicine requests. You just focus on everything else. I expect to keep all the pay for the ones I've done though."

"Of course! Thank you!" Varian said relieved. He accepted half the initial pile.

Varian placed an order for more chemicals and compounds to fulfill his commissions. There were so many of them they had to be packed up into a crate. Hector paid the Apothecary and hoisted the crate up over his shoulder as they left the shop.

"Now then," Hector said, turning their attention to the market. "Where do you want to start?"

"The leatherworker," Varian said immediately. He pulled the cloak around him a bit tighter as the chilly fall air blew through the street.

That gave Varian pause.

Things had gotten so much colder the further they moved away from Corona. He understood the farther from the equator they went, the colder it would become. But it seemed like an extreme shift. They had moved mostly eastward, not northward. He had never felt an early fall day this cold. Most winter days didn't even become this cold. How strange. Corona was known as "the Kingdom of Sunshine" for its mild weather. And there was an ancient weather machine in the caverns below Mt. Saison. But was it possible—

"Varian." Hector snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"We're here."

"Oh!"

They found the humble establishment close to the outskirts of the town. It seemed to share real estate with the tanner, so the smell of the tanning chemicals was in the air.

Varian had to spend the better part of an hour explaining to the craftsman exactly what he was looking for. They unrolled Varian's design sketch out on the table and addressed every detail and dimension.

The leatherworker seemed skeptical about the size of the design.

"You sure this wasn't a mistake in the unit conversion?" he said, gesturing to the main strap. "Begging your pardon, my boy, alchemists are surely experts in the mixing of liquids, but when it comes to the hard hand crafting…"

"I'm sure," Varian insisted.

"Hm. You might have a strange mount, but you sure he's over thirty-six hands tall?"

"Yes!"

At one point, the leatherworker insisted on taking his own measurements, so Ruddiger had to transform. He called all his apprentices to help.

Eventually, he conceded and agreed to get to work.

"Sorry I doubted you." the leatherworker gave a breathless laugh, sliding off Ruddiger and landing heavily on the ground.

"Not at all. I appreciate you being so thorough." Varian reassured him.

Hector tried to pay for the project, but Varian insisted on handling this one. He'd designed it and wanted to pay for it to be made, as well. Besides, Hector paid for the alchemy supplies. He seemed to have a hang-up about his role as a guardian, but Varian eventually wore him down.

Varian knew it would be a costly project with all the extra material and details. But he also knew it would be well worth it. He even agreed to pay the leatherworker extra for a rush job.

Before they left, he saw Hector pull the leatherworker aside and speak softly. The two gestured over to him at one point. And Hector dropped an extra coin in the man’s hand along with one of Varian's empty test tubes.

Varian shot him a questioning look, but just got waved off.

"Well," Hector held open the door for Varian as they exited the workshop. "Your boots are bought. And I've got the funds for everything else. Why not get some stuff to amuse yourself on the journey? Like toys or books or something."

Varian nodded thoughtfully. "Can't I just get more alchemy supplies?"

"Kid, what under the Stars is wrong with you?"

Varian chuckled. "I don't know. I think I have a problem."

They rejoined with the congestion of the crowd. For just a moment weaving through the streets, Varian and Hector were separated. Varian was jostled by all the people. Suddenly, a hand reached out and pulled him aside.

Varian sighed in relief when he saw it was Hector. Maneuvering him to his side as they ducked aside to get their bearings. Varian perked up when he realized they were standing in front of a bookstore.

"Maybe I'll pick up the most recent Flynn Ryder book after all," he decided on a whim.

"That's the spirit."

Varian touched his pocket.

He felt there again.

Then his other pocket.

He dug through his satchel and withdrew his coin box with relief.

"I think I was pickpocketed in that crowd," he said in dismay. He opened the box to assure himself the rest was still there.

Hector made a growling noise in the back of his throat as he looked around the crowd. But try as he might it was just too busy, and the crowd was flowing too quickly.

Hector sighed in defeat. "How much did they nick?"

"Just the change from the leatherworker," Varian said bitterly. He felt like he wanted to cry in frustration. All that hard work for some creep to walk off with nearly a quarter of it all!

Varian kicked a pile of trash over in his frustration.

Hector looked hesitant for a beat.

"If you want… I could carry it all. I keep my coins under the brigandine, and people are less likely to try their luck on me. You just tell me what you want to get or when you want to use it on your own… But only if you want."

Varian considered the offer.

He clenched his hands and opened them up again. He thought back to the days when he kept food hidden away. He hadn't felt the need to do that for a while now. He tried to imagine Hector taking his money and running off with it. But the mental image was no longer compatible with his new understanding of who his uncle was.

Varian took a big breath and scooped his remaining coins out of his pockets and handed them over to Hector.

Hector tightened his hand around them and nodded. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," Varian said. He knew Hector wouldn't get it, but he hoped he hadn't offended him with his hesitance.

Hector shook his head. "No. I mean it. Thank you for trusting me with this."

Maybe he did get it, after all.

Varian cleared his throat.

"Do you think there's any point in reporting this to the authorities?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not a bit." Hector laughed as well.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" a voice cut through their discussion.

The two turned to see a girl standing right behind them. She had long black hair arranged in braided pigtails, and most noticeably, a shiny golden badge prominently displayed on her chest.

"Nothing!" Varian was quick to assure her. "It was just such a small amount. And I have no idea who might have done it, is all. Nothing against local law enforcement."

Her pinched expression went back to professional and neutral.

"Well, if you change your mind. You can always file a report down at the station," she said looking at Varian up and down.

"Ah, that's not necessary," Varian assured her and turned to walk away.

"Not so fast." She said the order, not even bothering to make it sound like a request. "If you are on the up and up, you won't mind if I ask you a few questions."

She reached into the pocket of her vest and pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper.

Another gust of wind blew through the alley moving around trash and debris. Varian gave a small shiver, but she gave no sign the cold affected her other than the slight tremble of her hands.

"If you want," Varian shrugged. He had his own hands in his pocket, running a finger over the glass orb containing his pink adhesive. She wasn't a Coronan guard, but she still worked with them.

"What are you doing in Vardaros?" she started in a clipped tone.

"Oh, you know," Varian hoped he didn't sound too nervous. "Just traveling. Passing through, peddling medicine and a few devices."

"Ah, so you're the mysterious alchemist everyone's been talking about." She didn't seem surprised to hear it.

Varian would bet she knew exactly who he was when she approached him. His eyes narrowed in suspicion briefly before he regained his nonchalant façade.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess so," Varian said, wishing he was better at lying. "And you are…?"

"I'm Vex." She held out a hand, taking a step closer.

"Nicholas," Varian said the first name that popped into his head, and accepted the handshake. The girl's grip was bruising, and Varian was grateful when it was over. He wondered if it was an intimidation tactic.

"Where are you from?" she asked, watching him closely.

"Koto," Varian said quickly. It was a place close enough to not be suspicious, but not too close that she might be able to pull records.

"Really? You don't dress like a Kotoan." One of her brows shot up and she wrote something down and let the comment hang there.

Varian knew it was an interrogation tactic. Throw out a challenging statement, and let a silence hang in the air so he'd feel psychological pressure to fill the silence.

Varian knew that was her trick, but he still frowned as the seconds ticked by.

"Fallen on hard times recently." He looked away and crossed his arms.

"Hm," she hummed skeptically and wrote something else in her notebook.

"Have you traded in forbidden contraband?"

"No."

"Have you observed any criminal or suspicious activity?"

"No."

"Do you have any outstanding warrants?"

"No."

"Why don't you want to come with me to the station?"

"Well..." Varian started to form a lie in his head before he decided on a vague truth. "The Coronans. One was pretty unfriendly yesterday in the market."

"Sure," She waved a hand dismissively. "But the sheriff is a good man."

"So what?" he asked, feeling a swell of irritation.

He hated that line of thinking.

‘So what if the crown guards attacked you, broke into your home, tried to steal from you, and tried to stop you from saving your dad? Really the King, Queen, and Princess are good people!'  What a joke!

"Your bosses are petty tyrants. You work for people who hand out life sentences for petty financial crimes. Who would exile a man to the prison barge of the Lost Sea on shaky inconclusive evidence."

"Hold on now," she stopped writing and put her hands on her hips with an annoyed expression. "Bosses? This isn't Corona. The only person I answer to is Sheriff Quaid, and only because he earned my trust."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure. That's why they strut around the street like they own the place. There are people all around town who say they enforce the laws in ways the sheriff never did before." Now he had his own hands on his hips. "I saw old flyers around town for a Coronan-style Goodwill Festival. And there are people excited to see Vardaros become a Coronan Vassal state."

"That's not true!" She sounded properly mad now. "Who said that?!"

He shrugged. "People at the market."

"They are just backup," she insisted. "Vardaros is an independent City State we don't answer to any king. Especially not the one who sits so far away."

Varian scoffed. "'Independent?' Right. That's why you guys celebrate Coronan holidays and embrace Coronan law enforcement."

"We do not!" she shot back.

"Then why are they even here?"

"That wasn't my idea!" she insisted. "The sheriff was the one who called down the Sunshine on us. I was content to handle the issues internally. But nooo."

"That's grownups for ya," Varian said more bitter than he'd intended. "Rather outsource or ignore a problem, than face it head on."

"What do you know about it?" She asked. Her expression was still pinched, but she did seem curious.

Varian wasn't sure if she wanted to get him talking to incriminate himself or was just frustrated enough to want to commiserate with him.

Before he could think better of it, he crossed his arms. "The leader back where I was from denied the existence of the black rocks for months, even implicitly banned it from being mentioned at court. The poor farmers who needed relief aid had to talk around the issue entirely."

Varian feared he'd revealed too much but Vex just nodded and gave a sympathetic scoff.

"The leader around here wants to deny the reemerging crime families. He thinks simply importing some extra muscle to patrol the streets will fix the problem. When really, we ought to be rooting out the main members of the different groups, root, and stem."

"Short-sighted," he agreed with her.

A part of him regretted that the two of them were on opposite sides of the law. She didn't seem like a bad person; He wondered if they could have been friends in another life.

"Well, I'm not going to let them take over my city." She clenched a fist in determination.

"What are you going to do about it?" Varian asked now genuinely curious.

"I'm going to protect my citizens wherever I can. The Coronans want to put people in stockades and hang them. But sheriff Quaid and I banned that. We let them put people in the clink and banish them, but we have hearings before a magistrate first." She said, crossing her arms.

"Wow…" Varian smiled sadly. "I wish I could have grown up in a place like that." It was the first truly honest thing he’d said to her. "Do they really listen to you?"

"Sure," she said, seeming disarmed by Varian's reversal. "They're outsiders here, and I'm the deputy."

"You're the deputy?" Varian asked in disbelief. He knew he should be even more suspicious of her now, but he couldn't help but be impressed. She was even shorter than he was. But she did seem tough, but it was still quite a shock.

"Yes!" she sounded offended like she thought he was doubting her.

"That's so cool!" He said as he felt a smile spread across his face. He thought back how many times he'd imagined himself in a Flynn Ridder novel, a sheriff in a dusty old outlaw town. This girl had gone out and done it. She was living the adventure.

"W-what?" She seemed put off by his sudden admiration.

"I feel like old people treat me like a child all the time. And you look around my age. It's really impressive that you can get a whole town to accept you as their deputy."

"Oh," was all she said. Her arms had fallen to her side, and she hadn't written anything down in her notebook for a while now.

"I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot," Varian said. "Here..."

He reached into his pockets and grabbed two thin tubes packed with black powder and particles.

She looked suspicious as she held out her hand.

Varian took the hand in his own and placed one of the tubes in her palm. Her hand trembled slightly from the cold.

"So, the iron filings are combined with salt and charcoal. And…" he twisted the stopper of the vial loose and agitated the contents. "The iron reacts with the oxygen in the air. It's rapidly rusting and…"

The contents of the test tube changed color only slightly, but it noticeably heated up.

"There! An exothermic reaction!" he said with pride. He let go of her hand and took a half step back.

Varian frowned when he realized she wasn't looking at the cool alchemical reaction happening in her palm at all.

She was looking right at him. Varian flushed slightly at the intense scrutiny.

A moment passed and her eyes dragged away from Varian to the test tube.

"They're warm!" She said in surprise.

"Ah yeah, they're hand warmers," he explained. "I— well I noticed you didn't have any gloves so… But yeah, if you put them in your pockets, they can keep your hands warm. I don't know how long you are out on patrol but those will last for eight hours."

"And you're giving these to me?"

"Sure."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry I was rude. It looked like your hands were cold." He shrugged. "I got caught out in a really bad blizzard this year so now I always carry them."

Deputy Vex looked like she was trying to mentally balance the chemical equation for the combustion of Flynnolium.

Eventually, she seemed to come to a conclusion. Her fingers curled around the small test tubes in her hand.

"There's no way. It's just not possible," she said looking at the vials.

"No, it's possible," Varian asserted. "It's a pretty common reaction."

"No, not that." She shook her head. "I mean—Thank you," she said with a small smile.

"Of course," Varian nodded with a small smile of his own.

Vex's smile turned into a full grin.

"So, eight hours huh?" She lifted the hand warmers up to examine them in the light. "Was that your way of asking me when I got off shift?"

"Oh, uh no…?" Varian was confused by the change in her tone.

"Hm, shame." She shrugged and turned to move along "Offer still stands. Stop by the station if you decide to file that report."

She stopped when she reached the end of the alleyway and turned back.

"Or," she winked. "You could stop by just to see me."

And with that, she disappeared back onto the busy street.

Varian blinked in surprise. He felt his face heating up in a blush.

Hector gave a loud bark of laughter.

Varian started. He had forgotten Hector had been standing there the entire time.

"Wow," he laughed elbowing Varian's side. "You really are your father's son, huh? Hopeless romantic through and through."

Varian could feel it as the blush deepen. "Stop it!" He shoved Hector away. "Come on, This isn't funny. She's a cop!"

"Star-crossed!" Hector gasped in jest. "How dramatic!"

"Shut up!" he kicked Hector in the shin and strode ahead, back onto the street.

Hector just laughed and jogged after. "So, we going to your friend's house for lunch, then we stop by the station to visit your girlfriend after?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"I'm sorry. Your Ladylove."

"Shut up!"

"Why don't you want to visit your Betrothed?"

"I'm serious!"

"I hope your Soulmate doesn't hear you talking like that."

"Stop it. Please." Varian's voice quavered.

That brought Hector up short. His gleeful expression changed to one of concern.

Ugh. Why was he like this? Hector was just goofing around, and he had to take things too personally.

"Oh, Darkness take me, kid. I'm sorry. I always take things too far." He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

Varian sighed. Why am I so sensitive and overly emotional?

Hector sighed. Why am I so insensitive and emotionally stunted?

Varian shook his head. "No, it's fine. It's just… It's not like that. I think it's probably a trap."

"It could be," Hector allowed. "But why so sure?"

"No one ever likes me," he gave a sad shrug. "Never have. They are either keeping me around for their own purposes or they want me to leave but are too polite to say it."

"Okay, now that sounds like a story."

"Not a nice one," he warned.

"I can promise you, I've heard worse," Hector reassured him. He thought back to those days when a high lord continuously pursued his sister and what a catastrophe that turned out to be.

"It was bad," Varian was pointedly not looking at him. They arrived at the end of the block before Hector could think of what to say.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" he prompted in a soft tone.

"Well, this one time I liked someone. Cassandra. I was trying hard to impress her. And well, I don't know. I came on too strong, I guess."

"Did she tell you that?"

"No! That was the frustrating part. She never outright said she didn't like me or wanted me to leave her alone! She just sorta scoffed and made little comments. I guess she didn't want to hurt my feelings… but I'm not good at figuring out if people want me to stay or go." He shot a glance up at Hector who nodded in understanding.

"It doesn't register to me like normal people," he admitted, voice dipping low.

"I can relate," Hector commiserated. "People are very confusing."

"I offered to help her with a bunch of chores in the castle. She wanted to do something else, so she said it was fine. She even seemed happy at that time, I think? She agreed to help me with a demonstration at the science expo, but she backed out after she got the job she wanted."

"Sounds like you let yourself get used by a girl you liked," Hector said lightly. "Varian, a lot of young men have made bigger fools of themselves over a girl than that. I bet you'll be laughing about it in a few years."

"I doubt that," Varian said darkly.

"Why?"

"I well… I…"

"What is it? "

"I did something really bad," he fiddled with the clasp of his cloak.

"What did you do?" Hector felt his stomach sink.

"I tried to kill her," Varian said just above a whisper. "She tried to confront me during the battle of Old Corona and I— well I like to think I was just trying to force the princess to do what I said. But the truth is: I probably would have gone through with it."

"What was she doing on the battlefield?" Hector asked. Varian seemed to be surprised he had not yet received a condemnation.

"She led the raid on my home."

"She what?"

"Yeah, she was the captain's daughter and probably the best warrior they had."

"Varian, how old was Cassandra?"

"Oh, twenty-five, I think?"

"Varian." Hector's voice was a mix of light admonishment and outright relief. "You had me thinking this was a 14-year-old girl that you tried to murder out of spite, not an adult attacking you on a battlefield."

"It was still messed up."

"Sure, but it was a battle. Did she raise a sword to you?"

"Well, yeah, but I was in a giant robot that time."

"That time?"

"The first time she came at me with a sword I only had some alchemy stuff."

"…So, this adult had come at you with a sword on more than one occasion?"

"I had dosed the entire castle with truth serum."

"Ah yes, an inherently unharmful distraction strategy. Surely that calls for lethal force against a child." Hector said sarcastically.

"I don't actually think she would have killed me," Varian said.

"I don't think much of Coronan guards," he said. "But even they must teach their warriors that you only draw a blade on someone if you are prepared to kill them. Even if you don't want to."

"What are you saying?"

"That you were prepared to kill her, just as she was prepared to kill you. As far as I'm concerned, her life was forfeit the second she raised steel to you."

"But I was a real villain about it," Varian argued, wilting in embarrassment. "I snatched her out of the air and was all: 'I always knew I could sweep you off your feet…' like a total creep."

"Embarrassing," Hector agreed. "But we can work on your banter if you want."

"You are just biased," Varian said it like an accusation.

"Very much so," Hector agreed readily. "But I do think you need to give yourself a break about that one. First, she's a grown-up; you're swinging way above your weight class. And second, if she made herself an enemy of you, you shouldn't feel bad about treating her like an enemy."

Varian didn't seem like he believed his words. "Even if that were so..."

"It is."

"Even so, as you can see. It's just not a thing for me. Girls just don't like me." Varian said it dismissively, but Hector could tell the words hurt to say.

"Maybe if you weren't trying to court someone over a decade your senior..." Hector was trying to be sensitive. Teenagers took stuff like this very seriously. Varian writing himself off as unlovable after only one person didn't return his affections was exactly the kind of thing a melodramatic teenager would do.

On the other hand, your first love trying to kill you twice is something that could make a grown man swear off love forever. He was out of his depth on this one. What would Quirin say?

"It does not matter," he decided after a moment of contemplation. "Maybe you'll love again, maybe you won't. It really doesn't matter."

"People say that…" Varian looked down at the ground.

"Because it's true," Hector insisted. "You realize your father was an exception among the generations of Dark Brothers and Sisters for taking a wife? In our family, it is not common at all."

Varian seemed distracted by that.

"Did the job come with a sort of vow of celibacy?" he asked. Every time Hector told him something new about the Brotherhood Varian was fascinated.

"No. But most of us took our vows accepting that we would likely never wed. As members of the Brotherhood, we must put our duty above all. We are forbidden from owning property and holding lands and titles. And we are often confined to our post for much of the year. It was exceedingly rare for those of us who chose this path to also have a family. It's why we tend to adopt one another as family."

He leaned over and gave Varian's hair an affectionate ruffle. "And, why Sons and Daughters of Darkness are such a cause for celebration."

Varian looked unsure what to say so Hector continued.

"You don't need that kind of life to be happy. Trust me. I chose a life of service to King and Country; I've never regretted it."

"Never?" Varian asked in disbelief.

Hector let the silence stretch as he considered.

"Let me amend that. I regret the years I wasted barely in contact with my brother. I regret never getting to know my nephew until now. But I've never regretted not having a partner."

"I see," Varian looked relieved. The two of them were so lost in their thoughts he barely realized it when they arrived at their destination.

The entire town was tucked away in the desert canyon and had a dusty driftwood look. With businesses and homes stacked tall on top of each other. What stood before them was completely different.

A huge compound sprawled out before them. It stood tall at the end of the canyon. A long winding path led to elaborate golden gates. Past the gates, Hector could see a courtyard, a gilded throne, and past that an enormous manor.

"So uh, what did you say your friend did for a living again?"

Varian took out the invitation he had been given yesterday and scanned the text.

"She didn't say," he squinted at the letter. "I think she's some kind of merchant?"

"Kid, I think she's a crime lord."

Varian mulled that over. "Maybe she's a nice crime lord?"

Hector was about to protest but Varian stood up on his toes and rang the bell to be let into the compound. The gates swung open right away and the two of them were greeted by a rough-looking servant.

They were led through a huge, manicured courtyard, and passed by many statues. Most impressive of all was an elaborate lion throne.

They passed through the inside the manor itself and through a sparkling fancy foyer. The centerpiece of the room was a huge marble staircase that led up to the next floor of the house.

There were all kinds of roughnecks loafing around the manor, either going about their business or pausing to stare openly at them as they passed by.

Hector wished he had thought to bring Hjúki and Bil with him for this excursion. He did not like the look of a lot of the people he saw around the manor, and it would have been a relief to have the extra backup.

Hector watched as Varian looked around in awe and the lavish manor.

"Wow," Varian said under his breath as they passed a fountain carved into the shape of a pair of ivory swans.

"It's okay I guess," Hector said dismissively.

"Are you crazy?" Varian asked him. "I've never seen anything like this outside of the Castle in Corona!"

"Just wait," Hector frowned. "Castle Umbra is better. Less of this cloying sunlight and obnoxious golden gilding. It was built more for fortification. But it's still beautiful, with its obsidian and sapphires, especially when bathed in starlight."

Varian looked interested. "I can't wait to see it," Varian said, then immediately became distracted as they passed by a fancy-looking piano. His steps slowed as he stared at it.

"Don't even think about it kid." Hector put a hand on his shoulder to make sure he kept up. "You have a squeaky voice."

"I do not!" Varian protested.

The two of them debated the finer points of vocal performance as they were led through the manor. They were left in a large dining room off the main foyer.

They were abruptly left alone in the massive room. It had a dining table longer than his entire sleeping quarters back at the Tree. A fire burned in the large ornately carved fireplace on the far wall of the room. Varian went over to curiously examine the portraits hung on the wall.

Varian and Hector didn't sit, they just sort of lingered in the room waiting for their hosts to arrive. The minutes ticked by, and Hector was about to suggest they leave when the doors swung open.

Several people strode into the room all at once.

The woman, Stalyan, was at the front with the one-eyed blonde man at her side and a few more thugs following behind.

They fanned out, and stood sentinel at the entrance of the room, while still more took up post along the walls on either side of them.

Within seconds Hector and Varian were surrounded.

Stalyan and the Weasel guy approached at an unhurried pace.

"Hello," Varian greeted them, startled by the abrupt entrance.

She said nothing but approached the large table that stood between them. She stopped across from where they stood and slapped down a piece of paper in front of them.

Varian stared down and it and gulped nervously.

A wanted poster. For Varian?

But not quite. No, the face was more filled out. His expression was pinched and gave him a sinister appearance. He had a sneer on his face and wore simple farmer's clothes under a patchy apron. Varian's eyes were big and expressive, but the eyes of the drawing were narrow and suspicious. Varian's overbite was far too exaggerated.

His streak of blue hair was also exaggerated, though Hector supposed it was a noticeable enough physical feature that it made sense to emphasize it on a poster like this.

The artist was certainly not charitable to Varian.

Furthermore, usually wanted posters had more in the description section. This one just had one word: Treason.

And the reward was an absurd 100,000 golden crowns.

Hector was still figuring out exactly what he was looking at. But as usual, Varian was thinking quicker than he was.

"Where did you get this?" Varian asked in a cold voice.

"She nicked it off a sunny boy," the blonde man said, sounding proud.

"Yesterday in the market," she explained, pleased with herself. "It seemed suspicious that a Coronan guard approached you right before Old Man Quaid. So, I followed him out of the market. Imagine my surprise when I shook him down and found a couple of these." She tapped on the corner of the poster.

"I see," Varian picked up the poster to examine it more closely. "Treason charges from a few months ago?" He looked back to the criminals across the table. "From another land? Do you mean to turn me over to the law? Collect the bounty—?"

"Because that might not work out the way you expect." Hector finished for him, finally catching up with the conversation. He plucked the poster out of Varian's hands and tossed it across the table back towards the pair.

Stalyan caught hold of it. But the man at her side scoffed.

"And just what do you think the two of you could do?"

"Not sure, Anthony," Stalyan said in a clipped tone. "What could 'the Dark Wizard of Old Corona' do about it?"

"The Wizard?" he asked, head whipping back to where Varian stood.

Varian said nothing. Neither confirming nor denying it.

"If that were true," Anthony said tapping on the where the word 'Treason' was printed on the poster. "Shouldn't this say: three counts of attempted regicide, theft, mass poisoning, conspiracy, possession, attempted murder, and High Treason?"

"It's an old poster," Varian admitted. His arms were crossed, and his voice dipped low.

Anthony gave an impressed whistle. Clearly seeing Varian in a new light.

"But you won't be able to prove anything," Varian was quick to snap back at the Weasel.

"Prove? You're misunderstanding, kid. We're no friends of the law. I'm not showing this to you to threaten you but to warn you and purpose and alliance." Stalyan explained.

"And I'm a huge fan of your work!" Anthony chipped in.

"You're…" Varian trailed off. "What?"

"We all are," Stalyan admitted rubbing the back of her head. "I mean, come on, infiltrating the Coronan royal vault? Rider was the only one in history to ever do that. And he had backup with him. And he still bungled it!"

"No, no, the best part was the army of automatons. The coordination, the intimidation, the raw cool-factor. That was by far the best part."

"Dosing an entire Castle took more finesse," one of the thugs argued.

"I've heard some pretty gnarly things about the giant monster!" another chipped in.

"Forget stealing from the vault," another added. "It takes a special type to steal a Queen!"

"Settle something for me, kid," the Weasel said. "Did you really wear a black wizard cloak?"

"I was pretty much just wearing the same thing as in the poster." Varian sounded caught off guard by the sudden rush of admiration.

He was looking around the room, from face to face, trying to take in the excited chatter of the room.

"You have exactly the skills we need around here," Anthony said excitedly. "Rumors say you could make truth potions and knock out potions? What about the automatons? How about the giant monsters? Explosives?"

"Those sure are some rumors," Varian said tentatively. "But it probably wouldn't work out. I don't just give my stuff away to anybody. Especially the stuff that could hurt people."

"Of course," Anthony was quick to assure. "But we’re not just anybody. We could make you one of the wealthiest men in Vardaros. We could make you one of the most powerful people in the west."

Varian frowned. "I'm not looking for more money than I need to get by. And power is just a means to accomplishing my ultimate objective."

Anthony looked deflated by this. Stalyan frowned at him.

"Corona, right?" she asked carefully.

Varian fell silent again. He looked back and forth between the pair of criminals.

"Varian, what we're offering here isn't really about money and power." She was clearly taking a softer approach.

"We all support each other here. You could join us. Put down some real roots in this town. You look pretty rough right now; we could help you get better. You could help us kick those golden tyrants out of our city so no one could ever hurt us again. Then we'll set our sights westward. Towards Corona."

"With your help, we can crush them within a matter of months," Anthony added.

"You misunderstand. I have no ambitions to rule Corona. I just want to save my father."

To Hector's surprise, Stalyan's gaze fell on him for the first time. "What's wrong with you?"

He and Varian both spluttered at the question.

"Not me! I'm just the uncle. His father is back in Corona." Hector explained.

"In the dungeons? We could get him out for you," Stalyan offered.

"He's not in the dungeons!" Varian sounded offended. "It's a curse."

"A curse?" Anthony looked totally lost.

"So…" Stalyan hesitated. "What is it that you want? Whatever it is, I'm sure we could help."

Hector shook his head. "We're just trying to get home."

"Once we get somewhere safe, I'm going to dedicate myself entirely to breaking the curse. Then we will return."

Hector felt a stab of guilt. He had nearly forgotten Varian was still clinging to the hope of saving Quirin. What's worse, he had fed him false hope to get him to come with him.

"So, why go so far away?" Stalyan interrupted his thoughts. "We're pretty close to Corona. You could settle down and work on the curse here. And after we take over Corona you would have total unfettered access to your father and whatever else you need."

"Because I need to get back to the Great Tree. It's my solum duty to stand guard between the Realms of Darkness and the rest of the world. I can't justify being away longer than I can help." Hector said simply.

"What does that even mean?" the Weasel asked.

"Sounds to me like your goals don't exactly align," Stalyan commented lightly.

Hector cast a nervous look at Varian. But Varian stared right on through steadily.

"They align where it counts," Varian corrected her. "We're not parting ways, and we'll be moving on by the end of the week."

She held her hands up in a conceding gesture. "Fine, maybe not a full-time position. But there are a few important projects you could do for us. We do pay handsomely."

Varian fell quiet in contemplation.

To Hector's surprise, Varian turned to him. His brows were drawn, and his eyes were wide.

Hector knew that look. But he could never remember it being directed at him before.

Varian was looking to him for guidance.

Hector was feeling a lot at once. Primarily, the pride that he'd proven himself enough for Varian to place his trust in him, but also the weight of this responsibility. Varian was relying on him to make the call. What would Quirin do? What would his own father have done? He was terrified that the only thing he had to rely on in this situation was his own judgment.

"This seems like more trouble than it's worth," he crossed his arms coming to a decision.

Varian nodded.

"I think we're going to pass," he said, looking to Stalyan. "Thank you for the generous offer."

Before anyone else could say anything, one of the men who had been standing along the wall piped up for the first time.

"Come on, kid! You don't need anyone's permission. Don't let your old man tell you what to do. Make your own decisions!"

"My decision is to defer to his judgment." Varian's tone was withering as he spoke to the thug. Varian didn't even fully turn to address him. Hector felt a swell of pride.

"I don't get what the hang-up is." The thug stepped away from the wall. "We got what you want, and you got what we want." Varian lifted a brow but otherwise, didn't dignify the outburst with a response.

The man's jaw clenched; his eyes snapped over to Hector. He closed the distance between them and leveled a glare directly at Hector. "It seems like the only sticking point here is you."

"Really now?" Hector lifted a brow and sized him up.

"Seems to me, we need the kid, but you are just a spare." The thug swiftly drew his dagger. "Nothing to stop us if you're out of the picture."

Hector grinned. Hesitance flashed over the man's face at his easy confidence. Hector took a step closer and—

Varian stormed past him.

The boy got right up in the man's face. He had to stand up on his toes to achieve the effect.

One hand was yanking Hector behind him, as the other clutched a test tube. The same green one he seemed to favor.

"Say that again and I'll dissolve your bones in boiling lye!" he yelled.

Hector blinked in shock.

He was struck by the fact that it was an unpracticed threat.

Usually, people either roared their threats, hoping their open rage would make their opponents back down. Or they growled them out low and icy, so people would know they were cold-blooded and familiar with violence.

Varian did neither, he wasn't trying to project an air of danger. He just looked like an upset kid, impulsively stepping between two dangerous adults.

Hector was struck by the absurdity and wrongness of it. When was the last time anyone had risen to his defense? It might have even been the boy's father decades ago.

Naturally, the thug looked more surprised than properly intimidated. Despite this, he took a step back and put his hands up. Varian released Hector and followed the man's retreat, face still twisted with rage. He backed the thug up a few paces.

"Drop the knife." Varian ordered.

The thug looked at Varian incredulously, then over to Stalyan and Anthony.

"Do as he says," Stalyan rubbed her forehead in frustration.

The dagger clanked to the floor.

"For the love of larceny, man! Get out of here!" The blonde man hissed at the thug.

He took a few slow steps away, looking around from person to person, and rushed out of the room.

"I'm so sorry about that." Stalyan plastered an apologetic smile on her face. "Good help has been hard to come by these days."

"Or maybe you people are just unaccustomed to handling things without force." Varian still sounded angry.

Anthony had his hands held up in an appeasing gesture. "Hold on a second—"

"No!" Varian pressed on. "Why should I help you? You've kidnapped children!"

Anthony was visibly taken aback. "How did you—"

"I used to follow all the adventures of Flynn Rider. You featured prominently." Varian was nearly sneering at the Weasel.

"And you!" he turned to Stalyan. "I was locked up two cells down from Bernard and Patrick Stabbington for months. I know exactly how you treat your people."

Hector blinked in shock. Here he had thought Varian was being naïve about all this. But as it turned out, Varian had known more than anyone else in the room. 

Stalyan and Anthony shot each other a meaningful look, and several of the other men in the room shuffled uneasily. 

Hector put a hand on Varian's shoulder. "Easy now, Starlight. Take a breath."

Once again, he was struck by how wrong this situation was. He once thought that the sun would shine at midnight before he was the one to de-escalate a situation.

Varian looked back at him, and for a moment Hector thought he was going to shake his hand off and keep raging. Instead, he took a deep breath and let his shoulders fall.

Their brief exchange gave Stalyan enough time to recover.

"The Stabbington situation is one I have meant to rectify for a while now," she said carefully. "It's part of why I want to advance on Corona so much."

She cast a warning look over at Anthony. "And I regret if Anthony has been cruel under our orders. But come on, kid, you know how bad the Coronan rumor mill is. At least give us the benefit of the doubt."

Varian reluctantly nodded to concede the point.

"I promise you, if you work with us we won't betray you. And I promise we would never misuse your inventions," she declared.

Varian flinched at her words. Somehow it seemed like the word ‘promise’ was more offensive to him than anything else said.

His eyes narrowed. He dug through his satchel and withdrew a small purple vial.

Varian slid it across the table towards Stalyan. "Drink this. Then promise me."

She eyed the strange purple potion in surprise, she looked up at Varian questioningly. Varian crossed his arms and gave a nod.

If she looked surprised before, she looked downright unsettled now.

But her face hardened in resolve.

She picked up the vial, thumbed off the stopper, and drank it down in one smooth motion.

She cringed a bit at the taste and wiped her mouth.

Varian watched her carefully.

"I promise you, we…” she cut off and took a long pause. She rapidly blinked in confusion. She was clearly feeling the effects of the potion.

She shook her head and gathered herself. “We won't harm you or your uncle. And we won't use anything you make against anyone who doesn't deserve it."

Varian was still tense.

He looked back at Hector again.

Hector shook his head.

Varian nodded.

"I'm sorry, but we just can't right now," Varian said with finality. "But… thank you for your generous offer. Sincerely, thank you."

"Wait—!" Anthony started.

"One more thing—!" Stalyan said at the same time.

"Enough!" A deep voice called out into the room.

A man stood at the door. A huge man. Maybe the largest Hector had ever seen outside of Selene.

He had long blonde hair and an unkempt beard and mustache.

His skin was ashen and pale where it wasn't marred by a sickly green rash.

His hands were curled tight on the door frame, and he leaned heavily on an ornate cane. His fine clothes were disheveled and soaked with sweat.

The Baron broke down in wet hacking coughs as if the effort of his shout had been too much for him.

"Dad!" Stalyan cried out in worry and rushed across the room to his side.

She took the spot supporting him under his arm to help him stand up straight. Taking the pressure off his chest so the coughs subsided. She padded the sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief and wore a devastated expression. She spoke soft comforting words to her father until the coughing started up again.

Hector averted his eyes from the pathetic scene.

He dreaded looking back at Varian.

As he feared, Varian's shoulders had fallen, he’d uncrossed his arms, and his expression was one of abject heartbreak.

"Let's get out of here, V." Hector tried to urge him on.

Instead, Varian set a determined look on his face. Hector thought to reach out to him when he suddenly ducked under the dining room table and popped up on the other side.

Varian strode up to the pair as the man's cough subsided.

"Get back here!" Hector called after.

Anthony adopted a defensive stance in front of Stalyan and the Baron.

"Should have listened to your guard dog, shrimp." The one-eyed man moved to intercede.

"Stand aside, Anthony." The Baron ordered in his low booming timber. Anthony reluctantly lowered his weapon and took a few steps back.

Varian's eyes softened as he got closer and saw the full face of the man at the door.

"Wait!" Hector barked as he rushed around the table to cross the room.

Varian disregarded the order and reached up to the Baron, who in turn bent down to meet the boy's eyes.

"It appears raised and inflamed…" Varian muttered seemingly to himself. The Baron, for his part, simply stayed still as the boy ran his fingers along the rash.

Hector's stomach churned at the sight. The Baron's massive hulking form curled down to be examined by his small and frail nephew. It was like watching a bunny rabbit stand before a slayer wolf. The Baron looked like he could snap Varian's neck with one hand and Hector's blood was boiling.

One of the men on the wall tried to block Hector's way, but he flattened him in seconds. Another two stepped up in his place and Hector had to dodge the swing of a blade.

"Have you been feverish?" he heard Varian ask.

"Yes." The Baron answered.

"Chills and aches?" he asked.

"Yes and yes." The Baron answered.

Varian considered him for a moment.

"Venomous Kai spider, right? Despite the alarming discoloration, I think it's like a normal scarlet recluse bite." Varian said with a slight smile. "I could probably whip up an antivenom in a day or two."

"So, you'll take the job?" The Baron asked gently, as he stood back up to his full towering height.

Varian took a half step back and considered the question.

"Does it hurt?" Varian asked softly.

"Everyday…" The Baron answered in kind.

Varian nodded and squared his shoulders.

"I'll help you."

"You will?" the Weasel asked, baffled. He and Stalyan exchanged surprised looks. But the Baron simply whispered 'Thank you' and turned to retreat from the room.

"Yes," Varian said addressing Anthony and Stalyan. "I won't make you any weapons, but I will help him get better. Just get me the things I need; you don't even have to pay me anything."

Stalyan gave a laugh that didn’t sound amused, just utterly relieved.

"Oh, we'll get you what you need," she said. "And we're definitely paying you."

"I just ask that no one harms me or Hector," Varian said.

"Of course," Stalyan agreed. She let out a sharp whistle and the men who were engaged with Hector fell back, leaving him free to sprint his nephew at the door.

"It's alright," Varian reassured Hector as he reached him. "I agreed to help them."

"You did, huh?" he asked in frustration. "Any particular reason why?" He noticed Stalyan and Anthony waiting to hear his answer as well.

"I guess I just felt bad for him." Varian looked up at him with sad pleading eyes. "I just want to help."

The Weasel scoffed at the answer while Stalyan's expression softened.

Hector considered Varian. His hands opened and closed in frustration.

Just because you couldn't save your father doesn't mean you should put yourself in danger to save someone else's. He wouldn't want that.

Hector stopped himself before he put his callous thoughts into words.

Varian caught one of his fidgeting hands in his own and squeezed it. "We'll be fine."

Hector sighed in defeat.

Varian could tell Hector was not best pleased.

He openly glared at the criminals and kept himself between them and Varian. He wasn't even sure if Hector was doing it deliberately or not.

"Well, I'll put your order at the top of my commission's list," Varian said to the pair.

"Actually, we've got something for you," Stalyan said holding open the door.

The Baron had retreated towards the bedroom on the second story, he was helped along by an attendant and leaning heavily on the railing of the stairs.

Stalyan and Anthony guided them through the manor. The walls were decorated with portraits of famous outlaws and trophies and treasures from different heists. Varian was once again struck by how fancy the place was. The more of it he saw the more he became convinced it was even more lavish than the Coronan castle.

"And this is the source of the problem," Anthony grumbled as they paused before a large glass terrarium. It was filled with natural tree branches, with white spider webs covering the limbs. There were dozens of black and red spiders scattered throughout the elaborate web system.

"Not sure why we didn't burn the whole thing down after what happened," he said rapping the glass with his knuckles.

"Because they are wonderful creatures. And Varian might need one to create the antivenom." She slapped Anthony's hands away from the glass and shot him a glare.

Varian got the impression they had had this argument many times before.

"The Spiders didn't do anything wrong," Hector said, closely examining the web system. He had his face a mere inch from the glass. "You can't breed and raise a creature for its venom, then kill it for being venomous."

"Sure, we can," Anthony argued. "One of them almost killed the boss!"

"Fascinating," Hector never even glanced in Anthony's direction. "My homeland has a continental climate. I have never seen tropical insects like this."

"What are you a spider expert?" Anthony crossed his arms.

"Arachnologist," Stalyan corrected him.

"No," Hector said. "But I know what it is to fight alongside an animal. Your friends seem very well cared for," he said to Stalyan.

She nodded with a proud smile. "They're technically my Dad's. He brought them home from a trip to Neserdnia when I was little. But I'm the one who takes care of them—"

"Ugh," Anthony groaned at the two of them talking excitedly before he turned to Varian. "Come on, kid, let the weirdos talk creepy crawlies. I got something even better to show you." Anthony guided Varian a few paces down the corridor until they stood before a huge suit of armor.

"Whoa!" Varian said. "Was this actually worn by somebody?"

"The bounty hunter The Collector," Anthony explained. "He died a few months back. Succumbed to shock from too many bee stings but we were able to salvage his armor."

"He must have been huge," Varian said in awe.

"Tallest man I've ever met." Anthony agreed. "But check it out." He gave a sharp yank and one of the gantlets came free of the rest of the armor.

"A net launcher?" Varian smiled in wonder. "I've never seen anything like this!"

"He was a pretty unique guy, but always cryptic. Never told us where he got the goods from. You reckon you could make more of these with just this to go on?"

Varian looked at the gauntlet. He pulled back the cover and examined the mechanism within. Unlike the elegant design of Hector's wrist sword, the propulsion mechanism was archaic. "I think so. Though scaling it down for a normal person to wear might be tricky."

"Oh, come on, kid," Anthony cajoled. "You can't tell me you made all the automatons from the Battle of Old Corona, and then say you can't replicate something like this."

"I could easily make something like this." Varian quickly corrected him. "I was just saying it would be less powerful. And I didn't build all the automatons in Old Corona..."

"Oh, I see." Anthony's shoulders fell. "I had just heard—"

"I stole them, reprogramed them, and built a robot I could pilot based on their design. I didn't have enough time to build my own," he boasted. He pulled the gauntlet on and flexed his hand. His fingertips didn't even make it halfway up the fingers of the gauntlet, but he still tried to make a fist.

Anthony looked impressed. "Could you have? If you’d had the time?"

"Oh, sure." Varian frowned and handed the gauntlet back to Anthony, "I wish I could have improved the design of the automatons. Made them more mobile and less top-heavy. Might have changed the outcome. Maybe."

"And hypothetically… how long would that have—"

"Anthony!" Stalyan interrupted them. She looked up from where she and Hector were both holding one of the Kai Spiders in their hands.

"Remember, he's here for a specific purpose," she chided. "Don't go distracting him with other jobs."

"Fine, fine," Anthony grumbled. But he handed the gauntlet back to Varian with a sly wink.

Or at least Varian thought it was a wink. It was hard to tell with Anthony's one eye.

Eventually, they made their way to the staircase leading down to the basement. Varian's mouth fell open in shock as they walked down the stairs. He rushed past Stalyan and Anthony and jumped down the last four steps on the staircase.

In the basement, there was an entire lab set up.

There were all kinds of beakers and test tubes, chemicals, and potions. There were solutions of every color of the rainbow covering the surface of a massive lab table. Some of them bubbled tumultuously, some had a cloudy opaque appearance, and a few even glowed faintly.

The lab tools at home were rusted old hand-me-downs, but these were shiny and plated in gold! The Glassware was astonishingly clean and shiny. There were chemicals in the lab that he never thought he'd have the opportunity to handle. Some were more expensive by ounce than his entire house had been. And some that were so photo-reactive, they would explode when exposed to the light. More dangerous than he would ever have been allowed back at home. Varian's hands itched to get a hold of it all.

"We had a few specialists from Ingvarr here to try to crack the antivenom," he distantly heard Stalyan explain. "We ordered a lot of materials for them. They had many failures before we got rid of them."

"I can use all this?" Varian almost couldn't make himself believe it.

"Of course, kid. It's all yours."

Varian immediately went for the protective equipment; the shining goggles were silver-rimmed. His old pair had one cracked lens, seriously compromising their integrity. He immediately tossed them out to pull on the new ones. They had to be adjusted to fit his head.

The same went for the new work gloves. All the equipment was designed for a grownup, but Varian was used to that. The apron was black and clean, not at all stained and patched up like his old one was.

Then he moved on to the chemicals. He took a quick inventory of everything available to him. He almost regretted spending so much at the Apothecary today, seeing as he had more than enough here.

Almost.

He was also shocked at the ready availability of many of the controlled chemicals he never had access to back at home. Even the Apothecary kept this stuff locked up. Maybe there was something to be said for the city's black market…

He briefly thought he heard more voices but tuned them out.

He immediately began synthesizing the antivenom. The process was a long one. It needed a lot of time for reactions and settling, so Varian also worked on his other commissions as he waited. He hoped his new patrons wouldn't mind, but he also imagined they wouldn't know the difference.

He developed dozens of cleaners and stain removers and constructed the scrubbers. He also made the capsules that rapidly cleaned the large surfaces for the bathhouses. He remembered how kind and overworked the workers had been, so he whipped up a few bath bombs for them as well.

He remembered the solution that rehydrated wilted flowers and tried to remember if he passed any florist shops in the market. He didn't care, he made them anyway.

All the medicine was simple and straightforward. He made the first batch on the ground in the woods, after all.

That naturally led to the hallucinogenic inebriant the people of Vardaros were so fond of.

But that made him wonder, could it be made into a vapor that could be used in a fight? He fiddled with the formula and application. If all went well, it should release a vapor that would cause its target to become immediately impaired. He just needed to test it out. He wondered if Stalyan would let him try it out on one of her henchmen.

He rapidly ran out of space on the lab table.

And before he realized what happened, there was a shiny polished oak dining table in the basement for his use. He rapidly covered the surface of that in his different projects and materials as well. He worked through his pile of commissions with a speed he was not accustomed to. He had long since emptied his crate of materials from this morning and filled it up with his completed commissions along with labels.

He noticed a slight delay in his thoughts and reactions, so he whipped up a mild stimulant to regain his pace. He drank it down quickly, then made even more for later use.

He wrapped up his commissions and wanted to do even more. So, he also created more of his own creations. Personal defense, ease of life, recreation, and even stuff that just struck his fancy.

He mixed up some doses of the 'mood potion' he found on the shore. He'd later learned it was made by Xavier. (Should he call it Xavierium?)

And that naturally lead him to the modified version he'd developed into a truth potion. (The first person who fell for it was Stan the guard. Stanium?) He figured if he was going to be working with shady people it couldn't hurt to have truth potion on hand. Could he develop this one into a vapor as well?

It was a relatively simple matter to whip up a few flash bangs and smoke bombs. And the sticky bombs and knockout powder ('Zelium and Ariannium, respectively.)

Of course! He almost forgot to make more Ruddigerium! That was half the reason they came to this town in the first place. He made those as well as the potions to turn Ruddiger back to normal.

A noise from somewhere in the lab caught his attention for only a moment before he turned back to his work.

He switched gears to engineering. Varian got to work reverse engineering the net launcher before he got bored with the simple task and abandoned it half-assembled.

He was able to fabricate the glowing metal cord he'd wrapped around his toy sword back at home. However, his current staff was made of wood and would probably burst into flames if heated to that temperature. He stowed it away for a later project.

His staff had glowing test tubes on it now, anyhow.

That reminded him, he also whipped up the glowing chemical, that emitted the colorful light.

Varian couldn't help but smile wide when the reaction began, and the entire table lit up with the chemiluminescence. Down here in this place, safe and free to work on alchemy to his heart’s content, it seemed to glow brighter than it ever had before.

There was a tap on his shoulder.

"Not now, Ruddiger." He whirled the solution around the round-bottomed flask over the flame.

Another tap.

"Ten more minutes, Dad." He poured the solution into test tubes in the crowded rack.

There was a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back from the table.

"Kid, you need to eat," he heard Hector say.

Varian blinked.

Where am I again? he thought distantly as the world rematerialized around him.

He had a test tube in each hand and a weariness in his bones. His eyes felt dry like he hadn't been blinking properly and his head felt heavy.

Hector was looking down at him in concern. He was holding a plate stacked with sandwiches in one hand and pulling him back from the table with the other.

His back and neck ached from standing over the table for so long.

He looked around the room and saw that the neat stacks of materials had been completely torn apart and replaced with his own personal brand of controlled chaos. He didn't even remember how the dining table had gotten down there in the basement.

"Where did Anthony and Stalyan go?" he asked, voice raspy from a dry throat.

"Them? They left us down here hours ago."

Varian blinked. "Hours?"

"Yes," Hector laughed. "You were like a man possessed. It was frightening. I almost had a heart attack when you suddenly drank whatever it was you were mixing."

"It was just a mild stimulant. To help me stay awake." Varian stretched and reached out for the food.

"Uh, kid." Hector gestured to his hands.

"Oh yeah," he said pulling off his stained gloves. And his goggles as well.

The two ate their dinner and Hector filled him in on everything that had happened around the manor while he worked. Apparently, they had free reign of the place. But Hector had been his stalwart guard throughout the day. Apparently, he would periodically snap out his demands for more materials and a few of the henchmen had to carry the table down the stairs for him to use.

When they finished, Hector cleared the dishes away and Varian picked up his gloves and goggles again. He caught sight of his reflection in a Neserdnian copper-plated alembic and smiled. He relished the feeling of being a fully geared-up alchemist again!

"By the way, nice clothes, nerd." Hector teased.

Varian crossed his arms. "There's nothing cooler than being conscientious of proper lab safety, Uncle Hector."

Hector froze in place. His eyes widened in shock, but he didn't seem to be looking anywhere in particular.

A few seconds ticked by, and he had not moved.

"Um… did I break him?" Varian looked at him with concern.

"What did you say?" Hector asked in a soft voice.

"'Uncle Hector?' Uh, sorry was that inappropriate?" He hoped he hadn't offended him.

"No… say it again," he said cracking a smile.

Varian laughed. "No way, you're being weird."

"Say it, small one," Hector lifted him off the ground. And Varian laughed even harder.

"Who are you calling small?" he demanded, trying to wriggle his hands free and drive a booted foot into Hector with his dangling feet.

Hector tickled his side until he laughed so hard, tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"Ahem." Stalyan cleared her throat from the top of the stairs, she crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. "I might not be the master alchemist, but I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to play-fight in the lab."

"Sorry," Varian said as Hector set him down.

"Just taking a break." Hector shrugged.

"Sure, but maybe not around the boiling chemicals and breakable glassware."

"I want to get back to work anyway," Varian announced turning back to the table.

He was nowhere near as productive in the last hour of the day.

He was seriously flagging from all the hours of hard work. He just couldn't get back into the groove of things, especially with Hector and Stalyan asking him questions about what he was doing. He wished he could tune them out again but just couldn't manage it.

Eventually, Stalyan returned upstairs, and Hector took a seat in a chair beside the table.

A solution he was trying to develop to extend the life of his truth serum, got over titrated and he threw his stuff down in disgust. Varian took another step back from the table and laid down flat on the floor, He stared up at the ceiling, just stewing in his own burnout.

Potions were bubbling and brewing on the table above, but Varian was too thoroughly exhausted to extinguish the bunsen burners and put his stuff away. His limbs spread out like a starfish on the ground.

His goggles were still pulled down over his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. He wondered if he could just fall asleep here. Commuting back and forth between the inn seemed like a waste of valuable alchemy time.

Hector knelt at his side and poked him gently. Varian groaned.

"Let's go, kid. It's late."

Varian groaned again. He lifted his arms and held them out towards Hector.

"I can't stand," he said in a tired voice, he didn't care how whiney he sounded.

"Lazy teenager," Hector grumbled. He strung one arm over his shoulder and then another one. He stood, pulling Varian up, and carried him on his back.

Varian laughed as he was lifted, he gripped his hands together and wrapped his legs around his waist so he wouldn't fall.

He’d been mostly joking. He’d fully expected Hector to scold him, not give him a piggyback ride. He wasn't really that tired. Plus, he was probably too old for this kind of thing. But he couldn't bring himself to protest.

They left the manor, catching strange looks from every criminal they passed on their way out.

They made their way down the street. The sun had already set, and the streetlights lit their way.

Hector was about to turn the corner down the street towards their inn when the sound of fast merry music floated down from the other direction.

Hector paused. And listened to the music, trying to decern its source. "What do you think, kid, right or left?"

Varian yawned but his curiosity won out over his weariness. "Left."

Hector turned and walked in the direction of the music. One more block and they were immediately drawn in by the crowds gathering in the open square. There were dozens and dozens of people gathered surrounding what looked like a line of colorfully painted caravans.

It was a lively street festival!

Colorful lanterns ran along the square. Festive batters and tapestries strung up between the caravans. The scent of street food wafted from one of the caravans as a man was handing out fried meats to the festival goers.

A quartet played the music they had heard. The instruments were old, but the playing was skilled and merry. People were dancing in pairs in the center of the square. And the bystanders clapped along to the rhythm. Two girls had climbed up on a table to dance together to the music.

There was a fire juggler, a gleeman, a sword swallower, a fortune teller, and a man with a small traveling menagerie.

Varian felt a sudden wave of energy and dropped down from Hector's back.

He ran into the crowd to see everything there was to see.

Hector followed close behind.

It was nothing like the subdued festivals back in Corona with structured events. Here, everyone was celebrating freely and for no specific reason like friendship or goffers. Another blatant difference from Corona was the beer steins in the hands of nearly every festival-goer. Beer seemed to be flowing through the crowd freely and people were clearly reveling in the excess of it.

This town had its fair share of drunks on a normal night, but that night nearly every adult seemed to be a bit unsteady on their feet. Especially the dancers.

A woman carrying a tray was handing out the drink as she moved through the crowd. She put one in Varian's hand, barely glancing at him. And Varian was about to lift it to his lips when Hector plucked it out of his hands.

Hector shot him an unimpressed look and drained the stein in one go.

Varian pouted and was about to protest but became distracted as the crowd erupted in cheers at one of the performers.

The sword swallower was in the middle of his performance and Varian wondered if it wasn't a trick sword, sort of like Hector's that could collapse down.

There was a group of kids throwing rotten fruits at the fortune teller's cart. Varian and Hector both laughed at the antics. Varian considered the woman a huckster preying on the gullible. Hector told him the only true visions came from the Moon or Moonstone. Varian wasn't sure how much he believed that but nodded along anyway.

People were laughing along at the edgy displays. It seemed that if there wasn't an element of danger involved, the people of Vardaros were not having it.

Varian was at the edge of the crowd watching the fire juggler when a figure from the crowd reached out.

A pair of small hands wrapped around his arm and pulled him back towards the dancing circle.

"You didn't visit me at the station, Nicholas!" Vex said over the roar of the crowd, pulling him along. "Make it up to me with a dance!"

"Oh—!" Varian took a second to get right on his feet.

Varian looked around the circle and tried to quickly figure out what everyone else was doing and what he needed to do.

Vex cleared her throat to bring Varian's attention back to her. They stepped near each other when the music dipped low. In tune with the beat, everyone dancing in the square circled their partner.

Varian was relieved the steps weren't so different from the festival dances back at home. The music picked up and the pair moved faster and faster.

Varian laughed as he was spun around like the ladies in the square, who were being led through the steps. He breathed hard at the exertion. A small unwelcome reminder of his poor health.

The music settled back down and Vex stepped closer to him. The two swayed back and forth together.

Varian marveled at the way the festive string lights made the different colors play across her face.

She smiled up at him, clearly amused by how flustered he became as they continued to move together.

He briefly saw the image of a different face, still framed by black hair but looking down on him with cold eyes.

He wanted to shake his head and get rid of those thoughts. He didn't care if he wasn't lovable or if this was all a ploy. He found he simply wanted to impress Vex. Even if she had already written him off maybe she'd see something in him.

"Come on!" he said encouragingly. And as the music picked up again, this time he led Vex through the circle and spin. Vex seemed surprised at first but eventually laughed as she whirled around, her skirt spread out and her braids lifted as she spun.

When it slowed again, he drew closer, and this time it was Vex who blushed and breathed hard.

"Nice moves," he said with a smile.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," she said in challenge, as she started to lead them again. Varian laughed and let the memories of dirty looks, condescending comments, and love gone wrong fade away as they moved together with the music.

So Varian was having a teen romance moment over there and Hector was tapping his foot impatiently.

He wanted to leave. He quickly got bored of all the street entertainment and the crowds around him were putting him on edge. He leaned against the wall of the alley as Varian accepted a third dance with the sheriff's deputy.

He yawned. As funny as it was, and as much as he was going to embarrass the Starlight out of his nephew for this later; he would really rather go to bed.

Hector was people-watching as he sipped his third drink.

The kids who had been harassing the fortune teller were now throwing stones at her cart. She screeched at them that they were going to be cursed with bad luck forever.

A few citizens were trying to get the sword swallower to choke, and someone was trying to pick-pocket the fire juggler in the middle of his act.

He yawned again.

There was a tug at the bottom of his cloak. Hector looked down and blinked in surprise as a monkey in a turban was trying to get his attention, making low urgent noises.

Hector looked around, but no one else seemed to be looking for the little guy. The fortune teller was too busy fighting with the rascals, and everyone else was too busy dancing or being a menace.

Hector crouched down and held out a hand to the monkey. It did not seem to be wild, but even a tame animal could be unpredictable. He would hate to see it get stepped on or injured in all the ruckus and excitement of the crowd.

He expected the animal to sniff at his hand and maybe reach out in return. He wished he had some food to offer the poor thing. But to his surprise, it just peered up at him with strange knowing eyes.

With a coordination Hector had never seen from such a creature, it reached up into its large turban and withdrew something. The light caught something shining in its hand, as it quickly reached out and dropped something into Hector's open palm. It then looked up into his eyes with an intelligence and awareness Hector had never seen on any face ever before.

Then, just as quickly as it appeared, its eyes went dull and unfocussed, and it whirled around and retreated into the crowd towards the fortuneteller's cart.

Hector stood stunned.

He had half a mind to follow the thing and make sure it was okay. But then he realized what he held in his hand.

A pendant? Shining in the orange torchlight was a pendant with a smooth stone. The silver backing that the stone was placed on had an artistic depiction of a spear on it.

The stein slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.

The shape was familiar to him. Even more so with the lightning bolt on the point of the spear.

The light shifted around him as the juggler moved so Hector stood in mostly lamp light rather than the orange light of the torches and Hector realized the stone was a rich golden amber.

He almost dropped it.

His head shot up, searching for the monkey.

He scanned around the crowd of people, but he could not see where it went. He moved in the direction where it left—

"Hey, Hector! What—?"

He almost bowled right over Varian who had been approaching him with a smile.

"What is— Are you okay?" Varian's content expression had changed to one of concern.

"Um. Yes," he said after an indecisive moment. He quickly tucked the pendant into a pocket. "I'm fine. You ready to go?"

"Sure," Varian said. "Everything alright?"

"Sure. Yes. Absolutely." he said as he led them down the street.

"Okay then," Varian said lightly. Probably just chalking his answer up to his usual strangeness.

Hector waited until Varian was fast asleep and the Moon was high in the sky overhead.

Hector snuck out of the room and gently closed the door behind him, locking it in place.

He made his way down the empty corridor and the stairs to the common room. He passed by the innkeeper on his way out the door.

She shot him an unimpressed look. Probably assumed he was going out for a night of gambling, drinking, and strange company. Well, it's better than what she probably thought of him a few days ago.

"Going out?" a man asked him, as he walked out the door to the inn. He was a tidy man, with tired eyes, wearing in a red shirt. He had an unlit pipe in hand and was watching him closely.

Hector was looking back and forth deciding which direction to go.

"I know the owner of the gambling den on Clyde Street, I can take you over to see her."

Hector said nothing as he walked away down the street and ducked down into the alleyway beside the inn.

Hector stood in the middle of the alley where the faint light of the waning Half-Moon was barely spilling her cool light. Once again, Hector wished it would bring him clarity.

He withdrew the amulet from the inner pocket where he had hidden it away.

Hector examined the symbol again.

No matter how he wished it wasn't so, he recognized exactly what it was. He had seen the spear that the symbol represented hundreds of times. Both in person and in artistic depictions. This amulet was some kind of enchanted artifact, probably ancient.

It was the symbol of the ancient Lord Demanitus. This amulet must be important, and it must have come to be in his possession for a reason.

Hector had always felt a kinship for the wise sorcerer. He was a prominent figure in the history of Selene. And according to legend, Lord Demanitus called the Great Tree home for many years and even saved it from a great evil.

He let the light of the Moon spill out onto the amber stone and examined the symbols closely.

He took out his dagger and attempted to separate the stone from its silver seating, and when that didn't work, he tried to shatter the stone with the pummel of the dagger and the wall of the alley.

Once again, no result.

He ran a figure over the surface, and it shined in the light. Hector didn't know what possessed him, but before he gave it another thought, he'd yanked off the gauntlet on his right hand with his teeth and went to feel the stone.

As soon as his bare fingers touched the surface of the warm amber, everything around him vanished.

——————☽☉☾——————

Hector gasped as he looked around.

He was in a silent place. All around him was empty space with pinpricks of distant stars and swirling dark subdued colors. Hector looked down, and beneath his feet was a giant depiction of the Moon. The symbol of Selene. But it looked older, somehow more ornate. Interlaced in the design were symbols and runes.

Some of the symbols were familiar to him. He recognized the ancient Selenese, and he knew their meanings. Some he could identify as symbols emblazoned on the walls of the Great Tree, but the meanings of those he did not know. And still some of them were completely strange to him. He looked from one to the next, then back again and it seemed the symbols were changing and shifting. He shifted his stance and the whole ground seemed to shimmer with the strange Starlight.

He looked up with a gasp.

In his distraction, he had somehow failed to see a huge dark figure standing right before him in the void.

He was a tall man, with a dark hood and cloak draped over most of his form. But from the darkness of the hood, Hector could discern a wizened old face, with one eye patched over.

Hector might not know much, but he knew he was looking into the face of the ancient sorcerer Lord Demanitus.

Before Hector could even consider what to do, the figure spoke:

The Son of Darkness will fight the curse,

And lead the March of Twilight.

You must save the Star that guides you home,

or doom the people of Moonlight.

What?

"I-I'm trying to…" His voice failed him as the specter's single eye narrowed at him.

"He's already fought the curse in his own way… with the amber, sure. But the rest of all that?"

Demanitus suddenly drew closer, and his voice turned cold and condemning:

He will face the Moon and steal her light,

until the Imprisoned One awakes.

A spirit trapped in grief you must defeat.

No matter what it takes.

"Imprisoned one? Do you mean Quirin?" Hector asked him. "What exactly are you talking about?"

That seemed to frustrate the sorcerer further, he shook his head in the negative.

The image around him flashed and everything vanished again, the ground, the stars, the colors.

Everything but Demanitus.

And before he knew it, the world all around them went up in flames.

It was a most peculiar fire. Green rather than orange or red. It surrounded them on all sides. The fire burned and moved the air as it raged. The roar and crackle of it was distant in his mind.

Suddenly, the specter's face was mere inches from his own. His single eye was blazing with a blue light.

The intensity and solemnity of that gaze stole the words out of his mouth.

When he spoke again, Hector had no choice but to listen in rapt attention:

He'll teach you to fly in the days to come.

And you'll stop them before they start.

He'll weave with pestilence, fear, and dreams.

And you'll tear their minds apart.

He'll bask in the heat of a blazing fire,

forge an alliance of ten regions.

But the flames will rage from dusk to dawn.

And united, you'll burn legions.

He'll make you so tall you touch the stars,

to charge through ash and soot.

You'll stand above the Kings and Queens

and crush them underfoot.

He dances with machines of another time,

and beasts of his own making.

You'll charge the line of crumbling hope,

and feel all mankind quaking.

He'll call down lightning from the sky,

and laugh with the boom of thunder.

You'll bring that force, the raging storm,

and tear the world asunder.

He released the front of Hector's cloak.

Hector had just long enough to see the man's single eye lose its heat and intensity.

The sorcerer's expression flickered into one of pity for a single instant before the vision faded.

——————☽⬤☾——————

Hector blinked and realized he stood in the alley of the inn. The roar of the fire had given way to the soft bustle of the nighttime streets.

Hector's chest was rising and falling in panicked breaths as his mind raced. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest like he was in the midst of battle.

Hector looked down to where the pendant sat in his open palm. He felt a rush of panic from the sinister vision.

He flung the pendant away.

It impacted hard on the wall on the opposite side of the alley and fell to the filthy ground with a clinking noise.

It sat there, unassuming. Shining in the faint Moonlight, among the dirt and trash.

He put his hands on his face. His mind ran through the vision and strained to understand what it meant.

He had to get back to Varian. Had to see him.

He hesitated just a moment and snatched up the amber pendant with his gloved hand. He wrapped it in an old oil rag he kept for his blade and stashed it away.

"But what to make of it?" he muttered as he rushed back.

What should he do? Should he even do anything? “Who was this strange specter to say all those things—?” The dead man didn't know himself or his nephew! He had no right!

"Sir? Forget something?" The man from before asked him as he stalked past.

"Sir! Wait! Sir!" he called after Hector urgently.

Hector climbed the stairs taking two at a time in his haste.

"It was undoubtedly a magic vision. Even so. Magic does not mean omniscience—" This was just an enchantment that recites a message. Not a divine vision from the Moon!

He made his way down the corridor to their room. Another man saw him striding in that direction, distracted, and muttering to himself, and immediately made way. He'd also called after, but Hector paid him no mind.

"Furthermore, Demanitus might have been born in the Kingdom of Selene and traveled about almost everywhere—" but he'd lived most of his life in the Kingdom of Corona!

Corona. Hector's hands curled into fists.

Yes, Demanitus was just another Coronan who wanted to vilify his nephew!

A few more men were lingering in the corridor, but he shouldered past all of them and rushed into the room. He forgot to be sneaky and cautious this time. Fortunately, Varian did not stir. He was still fast asleep tucked away in the bed.

Hector immediately felt his shoulders lower in relief at the sight of Varian, safe and sound. He fell to his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed.

He looked at Varian snoozing away, curled up, mouth ajar and snoring softly.

In that moment, Hector decided that any portent of doom about this kid had to be wrong. Had to be.

Varian was a good kid.

Hector was trying his best to be a good man.

Demanitus was wrong.

Hector stood and shoved the pendant wrapped in the oil rag deep in the bottom of his bag where Varian would never look.

He stopped in front of the window.

The Moon was still half-full in the sky. He stared up at it.

Half Moon.

Waning.

A time to let go. Surrender. Rest and recover.

He took a deep breath.

Hector climbed into bed for a sleepless night.

Chapter Text

Varian whistled cheerfully as he walked down the street. Hector shot him an irritable look. His uncle was always so crabby in the morning.

"Stop that," he grumbled.

"Can't help it," Varian shrugged. "I'm Coronan. We're early birds."

Hector grumbled his complaints and rubbed his face.

The pair would make frequent stops as they walked from one side of the town to the other. Varian dropped off his commissions to people as they went. Delivering his potions and inventions and collecting his payments.

He got a wave from the tattooed man at the knife stand. Varian had given him a poultice a few days ago and he had favored Varian with a toothless grin every day ever since.

That was the pattern. He still had to keep a keen eye out for the Coronan guards, but most other townsfolk were happy to see him.

Unfortunately, his reputation for good business also made him a more appealing target for thieves. He reflected with a frown as a dark-clad skinny man passed deliberately too close to him. One of Hector's bearcats, Hjúki, lashed out at the man's stray hand. Sharp fangs missing fingers by a mere inch. The pickpocket yelped and rushed off.

The two of them made their way past the market and the town square right up to the Baron's manor. He walked confidently up to the gate. The gate guard saw them approach and had it swung open by the time they reached it.

"Good morning, Mister gate guard!" Varian greeted him with a smile.

"Morning little man!" The rough-looking man held out a hand and Varian high-fived it as he passed by.

They entered the building without any hassle. The guards that had stopped to stare at them a couple of days ago now offered him quick nods or waves as he passed by.

"Varian!" a man called out to him as he passed by the dining room. "Have you eaten yet?" Anthony waved him over.

Varian stuck his head inside the large, crowded room. There was all manner of hired muscle and generals of the Baron's operation seated all around the table eating breakfast. Stalyan sat at the head of the table in a gold-gilded chair. It was clearly made for a much larger person, and she did not seem to sit comfortably. Anthony sat in the seat to her right-hand side.

"We ate on our commute today," Varian said to them.

Disappointed expressions passed over the faces of the amassed criminals.

"I told you yesterday you should join us sometime." Antony griped.

"We needed to get an early start," Varian said apologetically. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Fine, fine." Anthony took a bite from his toast with jam.

"Hey kid, quick question for you—" one lady started.

"So, how did you manage to—" another man spoke over her.

"Settle a disagreement for us—" a rake dressed in fine clothes interrupted.

"Maybe later!" Varian said over everyone. "I'm gonna get to work!"

"Do you need a lab assistant?" a fourth criminal offered.

"I'm good!" Varian called over his shoulder as he walked away from the noisy room.

One of the men made to follow them, but Hjúki, started a low growl as he drew near. Bil just yawned lazily. It triggered Hector to yawn as well.

Ruddiger gave an annoyed chitter.

"No worries, buddy," Varian scratched behind his ear. "No one's gonna steal your lab-partner job."

Varian got to work right away. Hector settled in his normal seat by the stairs. Varian checked on the potions he had left to settle overnight.

A smile broke out across his face. The potion in the heart of his workplace had finally completed its last reaction. It had turned from a light blue into a deep orange.

The antivenom was finally ready!

There were a couple of criminals sticking their heads through the doorway to watch him work down in the basement. Most of them would get bored after a couple of minutes of mundane alchemy work. But new criminals were moving in and out of the manor every day. Many were excited to see the fabled "Dark Wizard of Old Corona" in action. They would get bored and move along soon enough.

Before they wandered off Varian ordered them to send word to Stalyan that the first dose of the cure was ready. The men rushed off, anxious to be the first to deliver the good news to their boss.

Varian passed the time working on the ice potion he'd been fiddling with for a while. He wanted to make it even more powerful. He thought back to the dwarf woman Clementine, he'd been imprisoned a few cells down from her. The two of them had struck up something of a friendship and spent many hours debating the merits of magic and alchemy. She'd claimed to have a cryomancy spell. Varian wondered if in another life they could have combined their talents to make an even more effective potion, but it was not meant to be.

He had been trying to develop a food flavoring for cooking on the road. The unfortunate reality was it made anyone who even smelled it violently ill. Varian wasn't about to let an embarrassing failure go to waste and immediately started reworking it as a weapon.

He had a whole bunch of weak pigments he formulated into hair dye bombs. He even began developing an idea for something that could trap someone in a bubble. It was a silly idea, but one that Clementine had described in detail.

He wasn't sure when he had become so interested in recreating her outlandish magical spells in the form of potions. Was it a petty way to prove to himself alchemy was better than magic? Maybe. But it was also a good way to pass the time.

Varian sighed in relief as he stepped away from the table. He pulled the goggles up to the top of his head, pushing his long shaggy hair back in the process.

Hector visibly started from where he sat in his chair, before settling down again.

"You look like him, you know. When you do that…" Hector said eyes distant and sad.

The thought made Varian's chest ache slightly. His dad's hair was always slicked back for work. But no one had ever said they looked alike. He hoped the resemblance didn't serve as a painful reminder to Hector.

"Sorry," he said though he did not know what for.

"Don't be," Hector said with a fond smile.

"Oi, you!" a voice called down from the top of the stairs. The two of them looked up to see the Weasel.

"Who me?" Hector asked in confusion. Most of the people in this joint never bothered to address him. They mostly seemed to be interested in Varian. (To an almost concerning extent.)

"Yes you," he said quickly. "There are some guys outside the gates watching the place. Been out there since early. We suspect they're Coronan. Come take a look, see if you recognize them from the market."

Varian fumbled the test tubes in his hands. He shot a quick glance back at Hector before he quickly cleaned the mess.

"Show me." Hector rose from his seat. Hjúki and Bil stood to follow him. But Hector made a clicking sound in the back of his throat and they stopped and stayed near Varian.

"Don't wander," Hector said and climbed the stairs to follow the Weasel.

"He's doing well here." The Weasel commented mildly.

"It's a nice first stop on our journey. Brief as it will be."

"Of course." Anthony led them up a ladder onto the roof of the large building.

From up here, they could see high over the whole valley. There was a little watch station set up at the front.

A man sat on a stool looking through an old spyglass.

"Still there?" Anthony asked him.

"Sunny day out." The man grunted in annoyance. "Haven't moved in hours. Trying to play it cool but clearly monitoring the house."

Anthony hummed in understanding and accepted the spyglass from the man, who left them alone on the roof.

"Three of them, at the base of the statue, down there."

Hector took a deep breath and stared through the spyglass.

There were indeed three men in the square right in front of the manor. They stood in the shadow of a large statue of the sheriff.

One leaned against the base of it. Another had his back to him, speaking to the third man who stood at attention, unabashedly staring right at the place.

The one leaning on the statue was a well-groomed man puffing at a pipe, he looked tired and uninterested. The second was a tall, broad man with sandy brown hair and beard. This one spoke animatedly to the third one, complete with hand gestures.

The third looked older than the other two. He had brown hair and a wide nose with a neat mustache. He stood with perfect posture; back straight with hands clasped behind his back. He had a grim expression on his face while he listened to the other man talk, and the first would chip in occasionally.

He stared openly at the manor.

Once again, Hector was struck by the fact that they were all too clean and put together for Vardaros. Their faces would fit in better in the wealthier, safer, more image-conscious Corona than in the dangerous remote town.

"The one running his mouth," Hector said. "I recognize him from the market. The beard is a dead giveaway. The other one is a bit more nondescript, familiar but I cannot place him. The third, I do not recognize."

Anthony sighed. "Thought as much." He accepted back the spyglass and looked through it himself. "We're gonna need to be more careful. Only send people out in pairs."

"What are you going to do?" Hector asked.

"What are you going to do?" Anthony shot back.

"Whatever I must."

Anthony gave a wry chuckle. "You sure about that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just have to wonder if you're really acting in his best interest."

Annoyance flared. "Perhaps you're right. I should gather him up and we should flee the city tonight."

"Do you really think that's what's best?" Anthony asked. It was not a challenge but sounded like a genuine question.

"I do."

Anthony looked hesitant. He collapsed the spyglass down and fiddled with it. "Nearly every day I encourage Stalyan to leave this old town in her dust and go out and live her life."

Hector blinked in surprise at the sudden confession. "You what?"

The Weasel looked away, clearly uncomfortable at his sudden vulnerability.

"I'm not technically anyone's uncle or anything but… I've been the Baron's right-hand man since we were young. I was at his side when he fell in love, when he had a baby girl, and when his wife passed away. I was there as that girl grew up into a wonderful, sharp, and vicious young lady."

He looked lost in thought before he looked back to Hector. His face hardened. "Not that I care or anything. I'm a self-interested businessman but…" They passed through the hallway and arrived at the bottom of the staircase to the third floor.

"I've been telling Stalyan to blow this town for months, but she won't go so long as she can cling to hope. She's a great girl and we love having her around, but it's possible that what's best for her isn't to stick around here with us. I can't help but wonder if it's the same for Varian."

"What's best for Varian is to be with the only family he has left," Hector said hackles raised.

"Maybe," he said hands lifted in an appeasing gesture. "I'm just saying; I'm tied here to this place. Just like you are tied to your weird magic tree, but maybe it's best they go their own way. Even if we'll miss 'em like crazy."

Hector wanted to snap at the Weasel again, but his tone was so sad and resigned he didn't have it in him. He said nothing but did glare at him. It was a shockingly insightful thing for the man he'd dismissed as simple to say.

"I've offended you," Anthony said after a stretch of silence. "Here, step into the kitchen I'll pour you a drink for your trouble." He offered, venturing off towards the kitchen. Hector cast a glance back at the door leading to the basement from where he stood at the top of the stairs.

"I've got a bottle of the Baron's 25-year-old Galcrestian whiskey."

Hector's brows shot up. A few indecisive seconds ticked by before he cracked a smile. "Well, if you insist."

Stalyan appeared at the top of the stairs after Hector departed.

"Is it true?" she asked in a breathless voice.

Varian smiled and nodded.

She took a deep breath. "Come on!"

Varian gathered up the cure and the rest of the supplies he would need. He ran up the stairs two at a time.

They rushed up to the second floor. Varian was fully prepared to be his usual show-off. Maybe ask for a drum roll? Maybe give a full speech?

His excited grin fell once he entered the darkened chamber.

Stalyan's posture became pensive, and her expression concerned. And Varian heard a pained groan from the four-poster bed at the far side of the enormous chamber.

Varian could have spent all day examining the well-appointed room and all its stolen treasures and oddities. Instead, he made straight for the bed.

The Baron lay out, soaked in sweat and groaning in pain. He was pale and the green rash raised and inflamed. Stalyan stood at her father's side holding one of his enormous hands in both of hers, as she whispered comforting words to him.

The first thing he did was give the man the first dose of the antivenom. He also administered a draft for pain and inflammation. The Baron was able to sit up and drink it all down on his own. The medicine had a sedative effect and soon he had to lay back again.

He and the other attendants got to work on the standard treatment for this condition. Draining the raised abscesses on the rash and cauterizing the ones too putrid.

The Baron groaned in pain at the treatment.

Varian disinfected and bandaged where he could.

The man cried out in pain again. He grabbed Varian's hand tightly to stop him.

He could easily break my wrist. He suddenly realized.

"Ah, let me go, Mister The Baron. I still have work to do."

"Dad!"

He dropped his hand down.

Varian took a deep breath and ordered a nearby attendant to bring him fresh gauze and bandages.

People rushed to help him. Carting away the soiled bandages and bringing him fresh ones.

They hand him tools and instruments. He had to cover his mouth and nose when the smell of infection grew too overpowering.

Varian had only treated simple infected polyps, small rashes, and mild infections. Never a man with 25% of his body covered in such a terrible rash.

He whipped the sweat from his brow and stepped back from the bed when he was done. Varian felt like it had been hours since he entered the room but the grandfather clock in the corner showed it had been less than one.

Varian gave everyone strict orders that the Baron needed to rest for the rest of the day.

The Baron was clearly out of it, but nodded, nonetheless. The man sighed and settled back into bed.

Varian straightened up and stretched his tense muscles. Stalyan said a few soft words to her father, she leaned over and placed a light kiss on his temple.

Varian frowned as the familiar pain of loss burned in his chest. He missed his dad so much. Missed his hugs, missed his voice, missed his good advice, missed his cooking, and just missed his stable safe presence. Varian had been crossing his arms, but his hands had traveled up until he was more hugging himself than truly crossing his arms.

Eventually, Stalyan stood up straight and lead him out of the room.

She closed the door behind them and leaned back on it, her hands on her face.

Varian felt like he was intruding on a vulnerable moment, so he silently turned to go back to his lab.

He felt a hand catch him by the elbow.

Varian looked back to see Stalyan tugging him along the other way.

"Come on, stripes," Stalyan said, leading him down the hall.

"Aren't I going back to the lab?" he asked.

"Nope." They passed several doors before she arrived at one nearly as large and ornate as the master bedroom.

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"Fixing something," Stalyan said. "It's been driving me crazy; you are a first-class criminal and an associate of mine. You should look the part."

Stalyan opened the doors and led Varian into the room. It was as well appointed as the Baron's room but with more sparkling things and lace about. Nearly every surface was covered with gems and silks.

He looked at the decorated walls and saw she had wanted posters hung up on them. Her own wanted poster was displayed prominently. There was also a poster of her dad and Anthony and several other key figures of the organization. Varian also saw a familiar poster of one Flynn Rider. Though this one was newer, from the last few weeks? And Flynn had a mustache?

Stalyan called him over.

Before Varian knew what had happened, he sat leaned back on her cold washroom floor and Stalyan washed the shoe polish out of his hair.

She told tales of growing up with Flynn Rider, the Strongbow Bandit, the Stabbington Brothers, and all their different heists and shenanigans.

"So, you're totally over Eugene now, right?" he eyed the wanted poster.

"Yep, being left at the alter twice was enough for me." She worked a lather through his hair. "In fact, I'm in the market for someone new."

"Good for you, after the Cassandra thing, I never wanted to feel like that again."

"You and me have that in common, kid," she laughed. "It's rough to have affections for someone who's madly in love with Princess Rapunzel."

Varian almost bumped his head on the porcelain bathtub.

"Cassandra?! Do you really think?" he asked scandalized.

"Come on, you've seen the way she acts around her. That's not just normal friendship," she said conspiratorially as she rinsed the suds from his hair.

Varian frowned. "I don't know. I was imprisoned with a guy she fake-dated for subterfuge and all the gossip around the castle was that she kept the rose he gave her."

"Hm, it's possible it's something else." Stalyan granted, still sounding skeptical. She dried his hair with a large fluffy towel. "But never mind that. Tell me more about this guy in the dungeons. Is he handsome?"

"I don't know," Varian shrugged. "I guess. People used to debate whether or not he's better looking than Eugene."

Stalyan gave a low whistle. "Impressive, and what was he in for?"

"Treason? Or theft? Or both?"

"My kind of rap sheet." She sounded even more intrigued.

Stalyan bid him sit up on a tall plush chair and fastened an old sheet around his neck to it splayed out all around him.

"Was he nice?" she asked.

Varian made a face. "Hard to tell in that kind of situation. He could go nuts, he could be nice, but he'd break down a lot too."

"Oh boo," her shoulders fell in disappointment.

"Sorry."

"By the way, your uncle is a rather well-put-together man," she said, only half joking

Varian cringed. "Ew! He's way too old for you."

"True, true," she relented. Stalyan had begun combing out his hair. Varian cringed again, as she combed out the knots and snags.

Stalyan had set out tea and cookies when they first entered the room and Varian munched on one as she gathered up her tools.

"So, How much do you want taken off?" She rolled up her sleeves and picked up a shiny pair of silver scissors.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I guess a few inches?"

"Really? You could totally pull off a pretty-boy ponytail," she offered.

Varian frowned, "Doesn't seem very practical. I'm used to keeping it short, at least in the back."

"Fine," she sighed.

Stalyan snipped off about four inches of hair before she was done. The two of them chatted and gossiped throughout the process.

"Here check it out." She held up a pink container with some Bayangoran writing on the side. There was a black powder on the inside.

"What is it?" Varian asked as she took up a scoop of it in her hands and worked it through his hair.

"For your blue, so you don't have to keep using that gross oily stuff to cover it up. It'll wash out though, so don't worry."

Varian considered asking for a more permanent solution.

"It's a shame," she said. "I like the blue. I get you want to blend in. But I've always wanted to change my hair color."

"What color?"

"Blonde," she said thoughtlessly. Her hands froze as she realized what she'd just said. "No, no not blonde. What's the opposite of blonde? Purple. I'd want it to be purple."

"Purple sounds cool… But there's nothing wrong with blonde."

"Everyone would think… I was trying to copy her." She hissed the last word.

"Oh. I didn't think about that at all." Varian blinked. "I just thought you wanted to look more like your dad."

"Yeah basically." She'd finished working the pigment into his hair and wiped her hands clean.

"I get it. I always wished I looked more like my dad. He's really tall and strong, but I'm worried I'm past my growth spurt." He admitted fidgeting with the armrest of the chair.

"You've still got time, kid," she reassured him. "Hell, Rider didn't hit his growth spurt until he was sixteen. And didn't hit his full height until after. It could still happen for you."

"Did he also spend a long stretch of months severely malnourished?"

"No. But that's why you should be joining us for breakfast," she chided lightly.

"Even if I do get as tall as Eugene, I'll still be shorter than the rest of my family. They were magically enhanced like a bunch of cheaters."

"Life's not fair," she laughed at his gripes. "How do you think I feel? My dad's a giant, plus I'm working against nature."

She produced a few more containers of cream and goo that were neutral colors and began applying them to his face and neck.

Varian watched in awe as the bruises there disappeared.

"I hope you don't have to do this very often," he said, disturbed by the thought.

"I live a pretty rough-and-tumble lifestyle," she bragged. "Nothing like a good bar room brawl after a rough day."

"Be careful, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure thing, shrimp."

He thought about that for a second. He had discarded his satchel at the door when he first came in, but he went over to it now and dug through it. He withdrew a few of his pink adhesive traps, 'Zelium.

"Here," he said, sounding a bit reluctant "Just in case, if things ever get out of hand."

"Are you sure?" she asked, accepting them carefully. "You had said you didn't want to."

"I'm sure. They're not technically dangerous. Besides, it's just three and I trust that you use them for the right reasons. Just don't go share it with anybody else, okay?"

"I pro—" she started then stopped herself. "I won't."

She tucked the 'Zelium away in her pockets. "So, we have some time before your hair dries. What do you want to do in the meantime?"

"Uh. I don't know." Varian couldn't help but wonder if the reason she had called him in here wasn't really because she couldn't stand the way he looked. But actually, because she didn't want to be alone right now.

He could certainly understand that. He'd felt that way so much this last year.

"You're a smart kid. I think it's time for a geology lesson."

"Okay?"

The next thing he knew, they were sitting in front of a massive table covered in jewelry boxes.

"So many different colors," he said in awe. "I know that the raw shapes are caused by their crystalline structure and the colors are caused by different chemical elements."

Stalyan looked proud. "Yes! Exactly. But the important part is the clarity and shine. This determines their value along with their scarcity. Something that can emphasize the natural shine of the gem is how it's cut. You see this flat square cut can cause more light to reflect and the marquise cut can really emphasize the color of the stone." She held up examples of both.

Varian listened with rapt attention. He wasn't the type to be fascinated by gems and jewelry, but he did appreciate it when someone was completely passionate about their hobbies.

"Hey, what do you think of this?" he asked as he dug into his satchel again. All the way down at the very bottom, where he hadn't looked in a long, long time. He found a purple gemstone. It was one of the first he had made when testing his Cassandrite experiment. It wasn't as well formed as the one he had made on the day of the science expo, but it still had a striking purple color and shined brightly in the light.

"What is it?" Stalyan asked with fascination. "A sapphire? An amethyst?"

She took hold of the gem and examined it with her gold-plated jeweler's loupe.

"I've never seen anything like it," she said breathlessly. "Where did you find this?"

"I made it!" he boasted. "Called Cassandrite…" he faltered a bit. "Back when I was trying to… you know, impress Cassandra."

"Wow, you're telling me you named and new gemstone after a gal? Rider never once remembered my birthday!" She shook her head.

"You can have it if you want," Varian shrugged. "I don't have any use for it."

"Really?"

"Sure."

Stalyan looked pleased.

Eventually, she deemed his hair sufficiently dry. She combed it out and applied a sweet-selling solution that made it sit properly and not in its usual mess.

She guided him to the mirror. And Varian looked shocked.

He was still way too skinny, but his bruises were gone, and his hair was shiny and neat again.

Varian smiled. He looked like a normal kid! Still too skinny but he felt a hundred stones lighter without all the shaggy matted hair.

"You did amazing!"

"I'm not done yet," Stalyan said.

Varian found himself dressed in a new shirt. It was a white fancy thing. It was a bit too big for him, he had to roll up the puffy sleeves and even with the top button buttoned up, it still dipped an inch beneath his collarbones. He was also given some new pants. They were black, simple, and flexible but not thick or durable as he was accustomed to.

These were fine materials, clearly made for aesthetics and not practicality. Varian was in awe of the soft rich material they were fancier than anything he had ever owned before.

He thumbed the ruffle about the collar of the shirt when a thin fashionable cloak was fastened over his shoulders. It was a sleek grey mink-lined cloak. It wasn't warm and tough like the farmer's woolens he might have worn at home, but it could do enough to keep off the cold. But it was a relief he could finally return Hector's black cloak to him.

"I feel incredible!" Varian smiled and lifted the cloak a bit. It hung lower than he was used to, but a far better fit than anything else he'd had in months.

"I look like one of the rich island folks back in Corona."

"Hey now! Don't go saying my clothes look Coronan," she said in disgust.

“Sorry.”

"One last touch," she went through one of the jewelry boxes on her table.

"I said I don't want any jewelry," he protested.

"It's no necklace." she withdrew a ruby-hilted dagger and strapped it onto Varian's belt, so the red shiny jewel was clearly visible.

"Oh, um." This was problematic for several reasons. "Thank you?"

"Of course."

Varian tried to be a good sport about all the different stuff Stalyan wanted to do. He put up a bit of a fight when she wanted to put a colored varnish on his nails, but she gave him a sad look.

"I don't mean to push or anything it's just… I have to be the leader around here right now and there's no one around here even close my age. I haven't done this kind of stuff in a long time. Or really talked to anybody—"

Eventually, Varian gave up and just decided to humor his new friend. She did seem rather lonely.

"Okay! At least make it a cool color."

"Yes!" She said excitedly. Varian held back a sigh.

She applied a layer of green varnish to his nails and in return, Varian applied a layer of purple to hers.

She had just finished up his left hand when they heard several loud sharp knocks on the bedroom door. Varian and Stalyan looked at each other in surprise before the doorknob began rattling loudly.

"Who is it?" She called out, sounding annoyed.

Instead of a reply, the sound of rattling and yanking on the metal knob changed to a sharp crack of metal and wood as Hector shoved into the room. He had the doorknob and lock torn from the wooden door still in hand.

"There you are," he said to Varian with relief. "I told you not to wander off."

Varian crossed his arms. "I didn't 'wander'. I came here deliberately."

"Varian." Hector admonished him.

"Sorry, sorry," Varian slid off the bed.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, looking Varian up and down.

Varian slid on his boots and goggles.

"New clothes. Stalyan gave them to me," he said as he held out the cloak for Hector to examine.

"She did, huh?" he asked, casting a glance over at the woman, still painting her nails on the bed.

She shrugged. "Somebody had to do it."

Hector's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. "We were going to go shopping soon," he grumbled.

"Well, you have the rest of the day, right?" she asked. "You gave the cure to dad, why don't you hit the market?"

"Nah, I'm gonna go back down to the lab and get some more work done," Varian said.

"We have been putting it off for a long time," Hector said after considering it for a moment, he seemed almost reluctant to admit it as if it would be an admission of fault.

"Aw, come on, I just got a new titration pipette!" Varian argued.

"Yep, we've been putting this off for way too long." Hector sounded more resolved. "Let's go."

"But I hate shopping," he whined slightly, as he dutifully followed anyway.

Stalyan chuckled from inside her bedroom "Who hates shopping?" she sounded baffled by the idea.

They made their way out of the giant, sprawling mansion. He waved to various criminals as they departed.

"By the way, here's a dagger." Varian handed the jewel-encrusted blade over to Hector.

"Oh. Thanks?" Hector seemed confused but examined it nonetheless before he put it on his belt next to his old iron one.

Anthony smiled up at them as they descended the last staircase.

"She was right about us needing to shop," Hector said picking up the end of his new cloak again. "This is all sort of indoorsy stuff. We both need to get the proper gear for the winter."

"Fine, fine." he agreed.

"At least with your new fancy shirt, we won't look so mismatched anymore. Though, that's clearly a blouse."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh."

"Anthony! Blouse or not?" Varian looked over to the man.

"Definitely a blouse. I've seen Stalyan wearing that exact shirt when she was a teenager."

Hector looked smug.

Varian frowned.

He did not pout.

He frowned.

"Ease up, kid, there are worse things in the world than looking like a fancy lad." Anthony teased him as he held open the main doors for the pair.

"Wait!" The shadowed figure of the Baron called out from the top of the staircase, leaning heavily on the banister.

He coughed and swayed back and forth.

"Mister The Baron, Sir!" Varian shouted up towards the second floor. "You are supposed to be in bed right now!" He had his hands on his hips and was very cross with the man.

The large man looked conciliatory.

"My apologies, Master Alchemist." He even bowed slightly.

"Anthony," he said softly. "See to it our guests make it home safely."

"Yes sir!" Anthony responded, saluting.

The Baron turned and lurched back into his chambers and shut the door behind him.

"Wait here," Anthony ordered them as he too disappeared into the manor. But he came back only a moment later with a ruby necklace in hand.

It had an imposing skull imprinted on the surface of the gemstone. Anthony threw the chain around Varian's neck

"There."

"Oh, thank you," Varian said as he immediately began taking it off. "Stalyan tried to get me to accessorize but…"

"Accessorize? No kid it's a signal. So, everyone knows you're with us. Knows not to mess with you."

"Really?" Varian released the chain to examine the stone.

"Sure, anyone who is anyone will see that necklace and know you're under our protection."

"Wow."

Hector scoffed. "Or you could be painting a big target on your chest for all their enemies."

"Well, just in case you are out wandering alone." Anthony frowned. "You really ought to think about personal self-defense."

"Actually," Anthony handed him a dagger. "Take this too."

"Oh. Okay cool. Um…" Unlike the expensive ruby on Stalyan's dagger, this one had a gaudy skull shape carved into the pommel. "Thanks," he said as he passed this one off to Hector as well.

"Come on kid. What would you do if you got caught out there by an unsavory type without your uncle?"

Varian shrugged. "I'd use my other tricks?"

The man scoffed. "But you don't have your automatons anymore. What the heck are medicine and potions going to do against someone much bigger than you?"

Varian was about to argue when Anthony turned his attention to Hector. "What about you? What are you going to do if your kid gets caught out alone by some cutthroat?"

"Rend them limb from limb," Hector said annoyed by the whole conversation.

Anthony gave a laugh as he turned his attention back to Varian. "I'm surprised you were able to drum up such a business with tall, dark, and scary here growling at any who pass by."

"I do not growl," Hector growled.

Varian couldn't help but laugh along with Anthony as Hector ushered him out of the manor.

They walked down the long winding path to the town proper. Varian looked at the bustling town. Hector seemed to be staring over at the statue in the nearby square.

Varian thought about Anthony's worries as they went. He wasn't very martial. Maybe that's something he ought to change about himself?

"Uncle Hector?"

The man started and looked back to Varian with a slight smile. "What is it?"

"Do you think you could teach me how to fight?"

Hector's expression went from soft to confused to disgusted.

"Nah. That's okay, I've got it."

Varian had not been expecting that reaction.

"Oh, but don't you think I ought to learn?"

"No," he said simply. As if he found the thought absurd.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Focus on alchemy." Hector said encouragingly.

Varian felt his hope crumple.

Of course. Just look at him. He was so weak right now.

Maybe he ought to try again once he gets stronger?

But no. Hector would have said something to that effect if that was what he meant. Hector flat-out didn't think he was strong enough.

That frantic urge to not be a burden had lessened since he discovered their relation, but still. He shouldn't let himself be weak like this.

Hector looked uncomfortable. Varian didn't want to dwell on the awkward conversation, so he looked for a topic change.

Varian fiddled with the ruby necklace around his neck. "It seems to be working."

And it did.

As they made their way down the streets many of the usual suspects would wander up only to catch sight of the ruby. They'd drop their shoulders and move along.

"It does," Hector agreed, albeit reluctantly.

"How is the crime lord better at preventing us from being accosted than two different forms of law enforcement?"

"It's just the town." Hector shrugged. “They only respect crime here. Don’t go getting too fond of organized crime now.”

"I think it says something about the Coronan way of doing things."

"Yes, but every place has its problems," Hector offered a mild defense. “There is no perfect legal system.”

"But they have to be better than Corona," Varian said clutching the ruby. "They have to be."

"Sure. But they still aren't that great. Koto subjects their prisoners to forced labor, Ingvarr will cut a hand and foot off a thief, a wealthy man in Bayangor can buy himself out of prison, and the Galcrestians hand out banishments into the frozen wastes."

Varian blinked in surprise. "What about the Dark Kingdom?"

"Ugh, don't be mistaken, kid. I love my country and King Edmond is like family to me, but Selene has some pretty old-fashioned ideas about justice."

Varian blanched. "Like what?"

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, I believe we're the last kingdom in the Seven to recognize the legitimacy of trial by combat. And there have been plenty of examples of legal disputes settled on a dueling ground rather than before a judge."

"Really? So for someone like me…?"

"Scion to the oldest warrior clan in our nation?" Hector laughed softly. "You'd be fine."

"No but," Varian tried again. "I mean if what happened in Corona, happened there…"

"Oh. Well first of all, if any Dark King tried to suppress or deny the existence of the black rocks, he'd be considered a lunatic. Second, if you had come to the castle to beg for aid you would not have been denied. In fact, the castle would likely be your permanent residence. Third, if a basic royal guardsman put his hands on you, they would be punished harshly."

Might find themselves without hands. Specifically, by me. And others, but mainly me.

"What if the king was the one who ordered them to do it?" Varian challenged.

"Varian, there was a time that King Edmond asked Quirin to call him 'Brother'."

"And there was a time that King Fredrick asked my dad to call him 'Friend'."

"He wouldn't dare. It's beside the point since Edmond is a good compassionate man. But even if he were as tyrannical as your Fredrick, he'd be a fool to move against Quirin."

"What would a king have to fear from my dad?"

"The power vested in the order of the Dark Brotherhood is separate from that of the king. We hold a spiritual or religious position."

"So, my dad was the head of a warrior cult?" Varian said and Hector bristled at the word 'cult' again.

"He was the head of a sacred order that guarded over an apocalyptically destructive power that is the center of our nation's religious practices." Hector corrected him tartly. "We are viewed by our people like high priests protecting the nation from evil. Your father might have been called Pontifex Maximus in an earlier age."

"Oh."

"But when we were around, we were the Dark Brotherhood, or the Brothers of Darkness if you were old-fashioned. Your father was the Sword of Midnight. Your aunt was the Dusk Blade and I the Dawn Blade."

Hector could tell Varian was trying to quickly absorb all these names and titles.

"Had our nation not fallen, people might have called you Son of Darkness."

"You've called me that before," Varian realized. "It's a title I would get through dad?"

"It was rare for Dark Brothers to have children, and it was always a good omen when they did. Every other prophecy about some 'chosen one' was the son or daughter, or twin sons of a Dark Brother or any in the clergy, really."

"Oh. So, it's not like a noble title?" Varian asked confused.

"No." Hector sighed. "Moon on High, kid, Corona did not have much of a religious life, huh?"

"Some vague sun worship I guess, but no not really. Lots of civil holidays though."

"Not surprised. A whole day for grabbing a gopher?"

"That's a great holiday!" Varian protested before he got thoughtful. "Corona may have more spiritual practices I'm not familiar with. Dad never let me engage with any of it."

"Well, if he wasn't going to teach you about the Light of the Moon, at the very least he didn't let you commit heresy."

"I'm a man of science. I would probably have never believed in all this moon-magic, even if I had been born in the Dark Kingdom, I don't think." Varian said with all the theological confidence of a 14-year-old.

"That's because you've never laid eyes on the Moonstone."

Varian looked like he wanted to argue but let it go, nonetheless.

"So, Corona is a total monarchy. King makes all decisions of state, the public projects the festivals, and he sits as sole judge over all trials. How is it in Selene?"

"There is a small republic, The Council of the Eight Moons or the Council of Eight or just the Council. They are eight great houses that hold much power, not so much as the king on the Starlight Throne, who always has the final say. They tend to have a specialty for which they advocate. Tycho; the men at arms, Grimaldi; trade and commerce, and Copernicus; laws and magistrates, just to name a few. We of the Brotherhood hold a special place among this governing body. Though we are solely dedicated to protecting the Moonstone from the outside world and protecting the nation from the effects of the Moonstone."

"But wait, in Corona, the black rocks disrupted many facets of life, wouldn't there be a lot of overlap and conflict?"

"Smart boy," Hector nodded. "Yes. There has always been conflict. Between us and the great houses, between the great houses and the king. Lots of conflict."

"And between the Brotherhood and the king?"

"All throughout our history," he laughed. "In fact, the regicide got so bad in one age that they created a magical relic to subdue us should we stray from the path. The "Mind Trap" was what they called it."

"Sounds messy," Varian said disturbed. "A magic mind-control relic."

"That's what happens when you've got more than one guy calling the shots." Hector shrugged as they entered the marketplace.

They made their way over to the leather worker. He needed one more evening to finish up Ruddiger's saddle, but he had Hector's custom orders ready. Varian was confused as Hector presented him with the gifts.

"A backpack?" he asked, opening the main flap of the spacious, sturdy bag.

"Yes, so you can get rid of that ratty old satchel," Hector said proudly.

"I get that. But what about this?" Varian asked lifting the second item on the table. "Is this part of the bag?"

"Not quite," Hector took the loop of leather and draped it over Varian's head and rested it on one shoulder, it crossed over his chest and rested about his hip.

"A bandolier," Hector explained. He slipped one of Varian's test tubes through one of the many loops all along the strap. "So, you can get your potions and concoctions quicker."

Varian's eyes widened in shock. "That's brilliant! Why did I never think of that?"

"What? You think you are the only one around here who can have good ideas?"

"Pretty much," he teased.

Hector put on a face of mock offense. "Here lemme test the leather's strength." He grabbed the handle on the bag and lifted it up a few feet in the air. Pulling Varian up along with it.

"Hey!" Varian protested, feet dangling off the ground.

"You look like a scruffed kitten." Hector laughed, letting him down.

"Bet you won't try that once I get this thing filled up." Varian stuck his tongue out at him.

"Bet you I will." Hector countered.

Varian emptied his ratty frayed satchel and placed most of the thin test tubes and vials in the loops along the length of the bandolier. He emptied the rest into the new backpack.

"I still have a lot of room." He said pulling it on.

"Plenty of room for food and survival supplies," Hector said.

"Or…" Varian considered. "Maybe this just means I need to make more alchemy stuff."

"I'm on the verge of staging an intervention," Hector said exasperated, as he held open the door of the leatherworker's shop.

They made their way in and out of the different shops along the market street.

The two of them were being perceived radically differently as they navigated through the city. The shopkeepers were actually inclined to address the both of them, and even occasionally just Varian.

The perception seemed to have shifted from: 'Hector is a fearsome warrior traveling with a child slave.' to 'Varian is a little lordling traveling with a hired sword.'

Hector was concerned at the idea of more people taking note of Varian, but also grateful they were giving him the respect he deserved.

He was going all out with the camping supplies. Varian argued they didn't need such a large tent, but Hector posed it as a challenge to Ruddiger who proudly chittered his support for the larger one.

They bought basic clothing items for both of them, pants, shirts, and socks. Vardaros wasn't the best place on the continent for shopping, but they did just fine.

"I really don't need all this," Varian argued. "I've never had more than a few outfits."

"But you've never experienced more than one season, right? Never needed traveling clothes or dress clothes?" Hector pointed out.

"Speaking of which…" Hector directed his attention to winter wear, hats, scarves, and gloves.

Varian slowed in front of a thick cloak, it was a deep rich blue and had silver threading all along the edges, it was embroidered with the phases of the moon.

He continued his pace past it, but Hector bought it immediately. He didn't even hear the price the shopkeeper said to him, he quickly shoved a bunch of coins in her hands and accepted the cloak in return.

He swiftly laid the cloak over Varian's shoulders and straightened it up.

He beamed with pride as he took in the sight of Varian standing there with the fine clothes, bruises gone, looking hale and healthy. He looked every inch at the strong smart son of Selene, he was.

Hector's heart swelled and he couldn't help but pull him in for a quick hug.

"Won't this clash with the bandolier?" Varian asked confused.

"Do I look like I know anything about fashion?" Hector asked in return.

"Good point."

The shopkeeper they had bought the gloves from approached them with different suggestions.

"What about these, my lord?" She asked, barely sparing Hector a glance. She presented Varian with and pair of shining sapphire earrings that seemed to match the cloak.

"No thanks," Varian declined politely.

After she left, Varian looked over at him. "Can I get my ears pierced? Like yours?"

Would Quirin approve of that? Probably not.

"No," Hector said with a grimace. Since when did he become an authority figure standing in the way of doing fun things? He felt like Adira would be laughing at him right now.

"Maybe when you're older. When we get back to the Tree. We don't want the piercings to get infected while out on the road."

"Yes!" Varian cheered.

They left the shop after enduring a few more offers from the shopkeeper.

The sun had fallen. How on earth had they wasted half a day on shopping of all things?

"Hold up now," Varian said grabbing Hector's sleeve. He tugged them aside into an empty alleyway.

Hector watched as Varian grabbed an empty rain barrel that had been tipped over onto its side. He tipped it upright. Varian dumped all his ratty prison-issued clothing, threadbare cloak, and even his old satchel inside.

He added a simple accelerant.

Hector immediately picked up on his intention. Hector added more flammable materials and struck flint and steel until the sparks caught.

Eventually, they had a sizable flame contained in the rain barrel. It was a pleasant orange light and it warmed them both.

"So, tomorrow we leave," Hector said happily.

Varian sighed. "When I figure out how to free dad, can we stop here on our way back to Corona?"

Hector felt the familiar stab of guilt. "Uh, yeah. Sure, kid."

Varian nodded.

"So tomorrow," he changed the subject. "Drop off the last of your commissions, one last dose to the big guy, farewell to the apothecary, maybe a tearful goodbye to the deputy if she's around, and we're on the road by noon. Finally, out of this town."

"Agreed." Varian nodded.

The sparks flew up into the air dancing and swirling in the cold autumn breeze.

The warm light played across Varian's face as he watched the fire. These clothes and the bruises were the last traces of his prison life.

And the memories.

He hoped both would quickly fade with time.

At least this was their last night here.

Hector was restless. The streets had been quiet these last few days, but his mind was troubled.

Varian snored softly. He had fallen asleep face first in a new alchemy book.

Hector tucked him in and extinguished the lantern.

He pulled on his boots, he wanted to take a walk. Clear his head. And he wanted to view the message from Demanitus again.

He did not believe the words the foolish old sorcerer spoke, but he still wanted to hear them again.

With that in mind, he dug out the ancient amulet and dawned his cloak. He made his way down the quiet corridor and out of the empty dining hall. The innkeeper smiled and nodded to him.

He stood outside in the crisp night air for a moment.

"'Evening, sir, you heading out?" the man in a red shirt asked. He had a pipe in his hand, but it was not lit. He was standing against the wall and watching him keenly.

"I know the owner of the gambling den on Clyde Street, I can take you over to see her."

Hector wished he'd had Hjúki and Bil with him to keep the riff-raff away while he—

Wait.

Hadn't he heard that before?

Hadn't this very man said that to him before?

Hector's suspicions were piqued as he looked back at the man.

A tidy man with tired eyes.

Wearing a red shirt.

The kind of red shirt that was worn under a polished golden cuirass.

Hector's eyes went wide, and his fists clenched.

He turned slowly and drew closer to the Coronan.

He blinked in feigned confusion. "Sir? What are you—?"

"What are you doing here? What do you want?!" Hector backed him into the wall.

"Nothing! Just— want to get out—!" He was still feigning ignorance.

"Why do you want me to leave?! Where do you want to take me?!"

"Nothing! Nowhere!" he insisted.

No?

No.

It wasn't about getting him somewhere specific. Just getting him away.

Hector pulled him in close. He put a hand on his face and pushed his head backward with all his strength.

The back of his skull impacted hard on the brick wall.

The man dropped onto the street; Hector tore off into the inn. The window on the door shattered as it slammed behind him.

He caught a glimpse of the innkeeper's startled face.

Crossed the room.

Up the stairs.

Another man in the same red shirt stood at the top of the stairs. He looked shocked to see Hector coming right for him. He called out as Hector reached the top of the steps.

"Wai—!" He had just enough time to turn his head and call out before Hector's hands were wrapped around his throat.

Hector followed the man's gaze down the hallway.

There.

Halfway down the corridor, there were four more men. They were all dawned in their golden armor, barely shining in the dimmed light of the sleepy inn.

Hector's vision tunneled.

Two of the gold-clad men stood with swords drawn, in hand, and ready to go.

One leaned over, holding an oil lantern. The fourth knelt on the ground working small tools in the lock of a room.

Their room.

Hector could hear his heart thrumming in his ears.

His eyes went back to the lantern light shining off the sharp swords in the hands of the armored man.

Hector still had the unarmored man by the throat at the top of the steps. He whirled around and shoved the Coronan down the staircase. He dropped hard, tumbling down the stairs impacting hard on each step as he fell.

Hector didn't stick around to watch the descent, he was already halfway across the corridor, flipping the switch to draw his sword.

The two armed men started back, then charged forward.

The kneeling man dropped his tools and went for a dagger on his belt.

The fourth man dropped the lantern on the ground where it shattered. The oil spilled. The man retreated and ran in the opposite direction and rounded the corner to the next hallway.

Both men with swords went for an overhead swing probably hoping to overwhelm him with their combined strength. Hector pushed both back with a grunt of effort.

He'd bet the third one would also be getting in on the gang-up if the width of the hallway allowed it.

Hector's first slash was up toward one of the Coronan's neck. Not necessarily because he was going for a killing blow, but because it was the only exposed flesh he saw.

The Coronan cried out, whether his sword met flesh or just the leather strap of the helmet he could not know, he was too busy shifting out of the way of the other man's next blow.

Fortunately, the man he'd struck was occupied with righting the helmet on his head so it would not fall, so Hector could focus on the one who had just missed him. He slashed across the upper arm of the Coronan, there did seem to be some padding in the red undershirt, but Hector's powerful blow just managed to break through.

He grunted in pain and swung at him again. This time in a wild arc.

Hector met the blade with his own, ready for a contest of strength when the second man recovered enough to get off a swing of his own.

Hector was forced to leap back out of the way.

He ground his teeth in frustration at being forced on the defensive.

He leaped forward, swinging high towards the man's head again. The loose helmet clattered to the floor and Hector had only registered the face of the guard from the market, and that it now had a huge slash across it, up the chin through the lips splitting a nostril.

The Coronan never even tried to get off a slash of his own. His sword clattered to the floor as both of his hands flew up to his face and he screamed in despair.

Hector grabbed him by the front of his armor and yanked him up just enough so the sword of the other man impacted hard on his partner's cuirass instead of Hector.

He held him in place and shifted around. The other man eyed him warily looking for an opening past his human shield.

Hector shifted them around until he had his back on the door to their room.

He could do this. He could destroy anyone with his back to this door.

The man he held onto seemed to have gathered his wits and reached up toward Hector.

He pushed the man at his partner and watched as they impacted hard. The Coronan still holding his sword made a quick recovery and sidestepped his fallen comrade. The injured man curled up on the floor clutching his face.

The other man swung his sword again quickly and brought both blades down toward the floor.

Hector flipped the switch on his gauntlet and the blade slid back. The man was pressed forward heavily on Hector's blade, so when it was suddenly gone, he listed forward.

The man tipped forward and Hector hit the switch again and took several low slashes. The man's trousers did not seem to be padded like his shirt was and Hector could see the blood well up.

The Coronan hissed in pain as he retreated. His knees buckled in the pain and his chest rose and fell fast in exertion, his grip on his sword was loose and his eyes went in and out of focus.

Hector let his sword hand fall to the side and simply gave a hard uppercut under the man's chin. He collapsed backward and fell hard on the ground out cold.

He had only just downed the second swordsman when the lockpicker lunged forward, dagger in hand.

Hector easily evaded the swing of the blade. The Coronan grunted in frustration.

Another swing. Another dodge.

"Sun on High! Stand still!" he shouted with a wild swing.

Hector withdrew his sword and caught hold of the man's arms as he overextended himself.

"Quiet now," he said, getting an iron-tight grip on the man's wrists. He hoped Varian hadn't been woken by all the commotion.

The man cried out again as he tried to break free, but Hector didn't budge an inch.

Hector adjusted his grip on the hand the man held the dagger, so he now held the whole hand in a tight grip, and there was no chance of him dropping the dagger.

He slowly twisted the wrist, hyper-extending it past its natural range of motion, and so the point of the blade pointed back at the man.

The helmet, armor, and padding still covered most of the man so Hector had to make do with what was available to him.

He was strong-arming the blade closer and closer to the man's face as it was the only exposed skin he saw. The Coronan resisted with all his strength, but it was no use. Would he take an eye? Or just make him considerably more ugly? He wasn't sure where the blade would land. But remembering where he'd intended to bury this dagger that night, Hector found he didn't care.

He had only enough time to consider the possibilities when he felt a sharp stab in his shoulder. The force of it pushed him back nearly an entire pace. His entire body vibrated with the impact.

He looked down to see a wooden bolt in his shoulder.

It took a breath for his mind to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. The blood came before the pain.

When the pain did come it shot through his side and all up his left arm. Every nerve felt like it was on fire. The muscles spasmed and he drew the arm in involuntarily dropping his grip.

He knew the gambeson had done its job and the bolt couldn't have sunk more than an inch in his flesh. Though, he couldn't tell exactly how far it had gone in. Only the hot wet feeling of bloodshed was how he knew the tip had breached skin.

Hector looked up the hallway.

The fourth man, the one who fled, stood at the end of the hall with a crossbow leveled right at him.

The Coronan quickly lowered the device, to wind it again and load the next bolt.

The man in Hector's grip easily wrested the dagger away. It clattered across the floor.

Hector went to tighten his grip to prevent him from pulling away. He was relieved the muscles were responding properly despite the searing pain.

Instead of resisting the pull, the Coronan lunged forward and pushed the bolt stuck in Hector's shoulder. Hector cried out as the sharp pain ran through his whole side, the pain sparking anew.

Hector threw a wild punch toward the overbalanced man.

The man quickly jerked back, and his boot slid right through the spilled oil from the lantern.

The Coronan tried to regain his footing but toppled to the ground in the puddle of spilled oil. His head struck the door, but he scrambled to try to rise up to his feet again.

Hector let out a bark of laughter at the windfall!

The man's head was now at the perfect height for a kick. Far be it for him to doubt such good fortune from the Moon, he delivered the kick.

The Coronan fell over and went still.

A rush of strong wind flew right past his ear.

Hector started back and the crossbow bolt buried into the wooden wall mere inches from where he stood stunned.

The Coronan at the end of the hall was once again cranking the crossbow.

He could laugh. As if he'd have enough time to get off another shot before Hector reached him.

Hector closed the distance between them.

He stomped down hard on the half-cranked crossbow. The string snapped back.

Hector ripped the helmet off the man's head and shoved him backward. He went down hard but Hector dropped down on a knee beside him. He grabbed the front of the breastplate and lifted the man off the floor by the armor before slamming him back down. His head impacted hard on the floor, and he shouted out, more in shock than in pain.

He was conscious but disoriented. He reached across the floor towards his fallen crossbow.

Hector stomped down on the hand. Hard.

This time the man screamed in pain.

Hector took him up by the front of his cuirass and rose to his feet. He turned down the hall, man in hand. He dragged him along the floor stepping over the spilled lantern oil and downed men as he went.

The one Hector had pushed down the stairs lay in a heap unconscious. The innkeeper stood over his crumpled body, with crossed arms and an exasperated expression.

"Call on the sheriff," Hector stepped over the Coronan and dropped his burden on the ground before her. "These men tried to break into my room and murder my nephew."

The man on the ground was cradling his crushed hand and quivering, in pain, in fear, or outrage. He could not say.

"We weren't going to kill anyone!" he insisted.

"Is that why you had your swords drawn?!" Hector shouted back at the Coronan on the ground.

Hector looked back to the innkeeper as another piece fell into place.

"They were trying to do it the other night too!" he realized. "I stepped out and the halls were empty, one of them tried to get me to leave the inn to distract me! When I returned, he shouted out to warn his coconspirators! When I came back, they were lingering about the halls! I didn't realize it at the time."

The man on the ground said nothing. Hector took the silence as confirmation.

"Well. Technically, they didn't actually break into the room…" the innkeeper said nervously.

Her entire demeanor had gone from 'jaded Vardaros innkeeper who had seen more fights than sunrises', to terrified. She clutched her skirts and looked back and forth between the two men.

"We were trying to subdue a dangerous criminal!" the Coronan argued

"What did you do?" she looked up at Hector.

"Not him!" the Coronan interjected.

The woman's expression went from distressed to incredulous. "The small boy who cried at warm oatmeal and sold me a dish scrubber at a discount?"

"This isn't about us. It's about what they've done!" Hector interrupted. "They tried to break into my room, to get at a defenseless 14-year-old boy while his guardian was away!"

She cringed at his words.

"Unwholesome," she granted. "But technically they didn't succeed!"

"Unwholesome?" the Coronan said, clearly taking offense. "We weren't trying to— He isn't a boy! He's a fugitive!"

"Moonshine! Call the law." He directed the second statement at the innkeeper.

"They are Coronans, Sir." She dropped her skirts and hung her head, sounding defeated. "They are the law."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

The Coronan watched him carefully.

"Very well."

He drew his sword.

The woman screamed. "Sir! Please don't! Not in my inn! Take them outside!"

"Go back to the kitchen." Hector watched out of the corner of his eye as she did. He kept his focus on the Coronan on the ground.

"H-Hector?"

Hector whipped around.

Varian stood at the top of the stairs, peaking past the wall, and looking down to the scene below. He stood up there barefoot, one of his new sleepshirts hung off his form. His body language was closed off and tight and he didn't look like he wanted to emerge from behind the wall. His expression was closed off.

"What happened?"

"Coronans," he lifted the man up to demonstrate.

"You—!" the Coronan glared at Varian, but Hector simply dropped him down and sharply yanked him back up by the chest plate, effectively shaking him into silence.

"I told you they'd find me..." Varian said miserably as he slowly descended the stairs. He eyed the apprehended man fearfully.

"It's easy enough to resolve," Hector tried to be reassuring. "Now, go back to the room."

"No!" Varian said scared. "Just leave them. Let's just go!"

"Go where?"

Varian knocked on the large ornate door.

No sooner had the door swung open than Stalyan pulled Varian into a tight hug.

Ruddiger jumped down from his shoulders to avoid getting squished.

"The gate guard sent word as soon as you came through, said you looked rough. What happened?" She asked, tucking his loose hair behind his ear.

"Coronans!" he said quickly as he pulled back. "They found me, and Hector's been hurt!"

"They tried to lure me away from the inn so they could kill him in his sleep," Hector explained slowly, he held a firm hand on his shoulder where he had yanked the crossbow bolt out. He had to keep reminding Varian not to look at it. The blood was difficult to make out in the black fabric and the darkness, but he didn't want to chance it.

Stalyan looked furious.

"An outrage!" A low voice called out behind her; she made way for the Baron to stand beside them.

"Dad!" Stalyan protested.

"I've been abed all day, Sweetheart," he put a hand on her shoulder. "And I'll return there soon."

She nodded.

"Hector needs help," Varian pleaded. "And a safe place to spend the night. Just a cot in the lab would do fine."

"Nonsense," the Baron said, as he placed his other hand on Varian's shoulder.

Hector's hackles rose at the contact, but he forced himself to relax.

"Pox, take the Rhino to the stables, the wolverines are welcome in the house, of course. Same for the Raccoon." He nodded to Ruddiger. "Then, bring their luggage up to the guest suite on the second floor."

The random goon gave a quick "Yes sir!" and took Nótt's reins from Hector.

"Anthony,"

"Yes sir?"

"If the sun-snakes want to move tonight, they might try again. Double the watch. I want men out on the streets outside the house. No one is going to get to our guests."

"Yes sir!" Anthony saluted and began giving orders to the other people who had risen from their beds to investigate the commotion. He ordered more to be woken up to form a patrol group. The once-sleepy house was bustling with activity in just minutes.

Hector swallowed his aversion and looked up at the Baron. "Thanks."

"Of course," he said with a slow, solemn nod. "We'll keep everyone safe." He significantly gave both Stalyan and Varian's shoulders a light squeeze.

"Thank you, Sir," Varian murmured.

The Baron nodded and turned to struggle up the stairs to his room.

Anthony watched him go with a frown.

"One more thing," the Weasel said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew another dagger. This one had a screaming weasel carved into the wooden pommel.

Varian once again thanked the Weasel awkwardly and passed it off to him, discreetly. He now had four in his possession. Hector was going to run out of room soon if these people didn't stop giving Varian weapons.

"Come on, kid," Anthony said, forcing cheer.

"Go ahead," Stalyan nodded towards the upstairs.

"Hector?" Varian looked back toward him.

"Gotta get patched up." Hector squeezed his shoulder where the crossbow bolt struck him.

Varian's eyes widened in concern, but Hector watched as realization dawned on Varian he nodded slowly and followed the Weasel. The last thing they needed was a fainting spell tonight.

"I'll take you to the biggest guest room." Anthony said with an arm around Varian's shoulders "You two should have done this days ago. Could have saved a bunch of time. It's a great room! Bigger than mine. And always open. If you wanted to stay a little longer, we could even…" They disappeared upstairs.

Stalyan bid him follow, and Hector followed her past the dining hall and into the kitchen.

She lit a few lanterns as they went.

She gestured for Hector to sit on a stool that surrounded a long counter and retrieved her patch kit.

Hector removed his gambeson and undershirt with only some difficulty. He grunted in pain as the brigandine part of the padded armor cleared the wound.

Stalyan didn't move to help but watched him closely.

"You don't seem too bothered to have a strange shirtless man in your kitchen," he joked through the stinging pain.

She gave a wry laugh. "'Been sewing people back together since I was small. I'm more than used to it by now."

Hector felt a wave of sympathy, "Sorry to hear that."

She just laughed again as she stuck him through for her first stitch. "How many were there?"

"Six."

She gave a low impressed whistle. "Are they…?" She pulled the thread through to complete her stitch. Hector racked his brain.

"I don't honestly know." The one by the door perhaps, certainly not the one in the dining hall…

"Would it bother you?" she asked starting her next stitch.

"Not a bit."

"Then what's wrong?" she looked up at him from her work.

Hector hesitated for only a moment.

"There were three Coronans outside this morning. The one who confronted Varian in the market, the one who was running decoy for me outside the inn, and the last one."

"So?"

"The third one wasn't amongst the six in the inn. I looked at all their faces."

"It could have been a passerby or a local." She tied off the last stitch and dabbed a salve over the spot.

"Maybe," Hector allowed, not really believing it. He poked at the patch job in approval.

"Anyway, that's for us to deal with," Stalyan said, slapping his hand away. "You just focus on getting out of town tomorrow."

She covered the sewn-up wound with a clean bandage.

It made him nostalgic for his younger Brotherhood days. Adira had the steadiest hands of the three of them, so she sewed them up more times than he could count. This strange experience made him think of his sister.

Stalyan flattened down the bandage, but her fingertips traveled up his shoulder, his throat, and along his jaw. She ran her fingers through his beard and gave him a sly smile, her eyes twinkled with mischief.

Ah.

So decidedly not like his sister then.

Hector stood abruptly and turned his back to her. He grabbed up his undershirt and gambeson.

Fortunately, she seemed to take the implicit rejection with good humor and just chuckled.

"Too old indeed…" he heard her murmur as she stowed the medical kit.

He pulled on his shirt and cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Miss Stalyan," he said with all the formality that had ever been drilled into him over the years. "For your hospitality and generosity."

"Yeah, yeah," she waved a dismissive hand at him. "The two of you might have saved my father's life. Everything else is dross beside that."

"I still can't help but feel the scales are unbalanced," Hector admitted.

She smirked again. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"I have some idea." His voice dipped low. "Listen closely."

Her smirk vanished and she gave him a look equal parts cautious and curious.

"Downstairs in the basement. In Varian's lab, there's a crate of some inventions of his. He made more of his glue traps, smoke bombs, and knock-out dust. But there are also explosives and toxins. More than we can fit in our packs. We were going to have to fasten it to the back of Ruddiger."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Varian didn't want to pick a side in the conflict in this town. He likes you a lot for whatever reason. But he's still disapproving of your methods and sympathizes with local law enforcement." He took a breath. "But tonight, he was nearly murdered in his bed. He's quite shaken up by the event. We both are. I wouldn't be surprised if there were things we simply left behind tomorrow. Purely by accident, of course."

"Of course," Stalyan echoed in disbelief.

"They could certainly shift the balance of power in this town. I trust you won't make me regret this."

Stalyan smiled. "I promise."

Chapter Text

That morning was not nearly so cheery as the one before.

Varian still made sure they were up and out by first light. They packed their things in silence.

Varian had expected a few sad goodbyes from the different people around the house. They had been surprisingly good friends, all things considered. But most seemed confused to hear he was leaving or strangely standoffish.

Varian shrugged it off.

They went down to the lab and packed up as much as they could. In the previous days, Stalyan had offered him everything in the whole lab for when he left. At first, Varian had been aghast, claiming he couldn't possibly take so many valuable materials. She'd just laughed and explained that no one else in their organization had any use for them. It would actually be more work for them to try to sell it all off.

He packed as much as he could. He arranged the supplies into his trunk and two extra crates. Varian went to lug the crate of chemical weapons up the stairs, but Hector told him to save that one for last.

They packed their luggage and readied the animals. Nótt and the Bearcats waited by the road with their things.

That done, they took to the city and Varian dropped off the last of his commissions.

The leatherworker had the saddle finished. Ruddiger chittered happily, and he transformed for one last fitting.

It was perfect. Turned out his measurements had been correct after all. Not that he felt smug about that or anything.

Varian frowned as they headed back towards the manor. He couldn't help but feel somber to be saying goodbye to the whole city.

They rode up high on Ruddiger as they went. They had made a point not to do that up to this point so as not to attract attention. But they needed to transport the large saddle, their cover had been blown already, and they were nearly out of this town anyway.

He kept an eye out for Vex as they rode on. He wanted to say goodbye to her before they left and maybe explain to her what happened last night. He couldn't imagine what she had heard from everyone else.

A bathhouse keeper stopped midstride when she caught sight of them and dropped her laundry basket to the ground. Two gossiping restauranteurs broke off their conversations to stare up at them.

Varian dropped off a donation of medicine to the monastery. He'd felt guilty for using the institution to spread the word about his medicines throughout the city. He wanted to pay them back for the ones they'd purchased.

The abbess of the monastery tried to argue it was not necessary. But she eventually conceded and accepted them all.

On their way out of the monastery, the abbess caught him by the shoulder and leaned in.

"One more thing, dear. I heard it was going to be a sunny day out today," she spoke softly. "Be careful. Best to stay inside."

"Really?" Varian asked in surprise.

She looked around nervously as if scared to be overheard.

"Yes, there have been some who have been hurt. It saddens me so to treat those who have been burned by the sun." She cringed at her own tortured metaphor.

Varian was shocked by her allegiance. He supposed she hadn't heard about what had happened last night.

"Thank you for letting me know," he said as he fiddled with one of the Flynnolium vials on his bandolier.

"Of course," She favored him with an encouraging smile. "And worry not. We will pray for your safe travels."

The next stop on their journey was the apothecary shop.

The front of the place looked different. The cracked window on the front had been replaced with a new one and some of the stained stone had been painted over. The old sign still hung above the door.

"There you are, my boy!" the apothecary said with a wide smile. "I was worried for a while there. But then those fellas from the Baron's operation started stopping in to buy specialized ingredients and I knew you were alright."

Varian smiled up at the old man. "You referred me to them, didn't you?"

The apothecary's fingers tightened around the frayed sleeve of his robes. "Aye. I'm sorry. I wasn't sure it was the correct thing to do. I had more than one sleepless night about it. But looking at you now, I think I made the right choice."

"You did," Varian assured him. "Thank you."

"Thank you," the old man said. "This is the best the ol'shop had done in many years."

"Anything to promote the merits of alchemy!" Varian said enthusiastically.

"Exactly!" The apothecary said equally enthusiastically. "At least someone gets it. And here… take this." He retrieved a package from beneath the counter.

"What is it?" Varian asked, accepting the package. It contained thirty small vials strung together and filled with a milky solution. There was also a small piece of parchment with an ingredients list and lab procedure.

"A health tonic, full of healing nutrients! Make sure you take them with food and plenty of water. They do have a bitter taste, so you'll need to discipline yourself, in fact— You there!" He gestured over to Hector and handed him the gift out of Varian's hands.

"Make sure he takes one of these per day and makes more once these are done."

Varian crossed his arms. "I can more than treat my own—"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I will do exactly as you've instructed." Hector even gave a small bow.

"Good man." He nodded at Hector in approval. "You should notice his coloring and complexion improve along with a better balance of humors. It will also promote energy and growth."

"You mean I'll get taller?" Varian asked excitedly, taking the package back from Hector to look at the ingredients list.

"With alchemy anything is possible," the apothecary boasted.

Varian tightened his fingers around the package as he suddenly felt a rush of emotions. "I've never— no one has ever given me an alchemical gift before."

"It seemed unseemly," the apothecary said with shame. "That you had brought medicines to Vardaros when you were so in need of them yourself. I should have done something like this from the start. Please forgive a bitter jaded old man."

"There's nothing to forgive! I'll tell Stalyan that all the alchemy equipment I can't take with me today should go to you."

The man looked apprehensive at that. "I wouldn't want to owe either one of you any more than I already do."

"No, but listen, she has some really cool stuff!"

"We should go," Hector said after nearly half of the hour had passed with them talking. "Thank you for everything, kind sir. May you always walk in Shade and Shadow."

Confusion crossed the old man's face, but he nodded nonetheless "Um, same to you, Sir."

"Thanks for everything!" Varian smiled and waved as they left.

"Be careful out there! And never stop doing amazing things!" The apothecary called after them as they left.

They finished their circuit of the town and ended up back at the Baron's manor. They had Nótt and the bearcats ready to depart at the road with all their belongings. Varian was fairly sure they had a few more things to pack from the basement but Ruddiger could more than manage them all.

Varian had to shrink Ruddiger back down to get him back in the mansion, he jumped up onto his shoulders. They left the saddle with the rest of their luggage and the animals.

People bustled about the mansion and gathered in the foyer. It seemed to be more crowded than he'd seen it before.

Varian tried to say goodbye to a few of the ones he recognized but most of them seemed confused or unreceptive.

Ah well, these hardened criminal types could be emotionally distant, he supposed.

Stalyan and Anthony also met them in the foyer.

Varian smiled. These were just the two he wanted to see. He had tinkered up a prototype of the Collector's net launcher for Anthony and a bottle of purple hair dye for Stalyan.

"Any trouble in town?" Anthony asked. "I still say you oughta take an escort."

Hector shook his head. "All's quiet."

"Got everything?" Stalyan asked.

"Not quite," Varian admitted. "But I can give your dad the last dose of the antivenom whenever you're ready."

"Alright, might as well head up," she nodded.

"No need!" the Baron announced from where he stood at the top of the staircase.

Everyone in the foyer looked on in amazement at the huge man standing tall and strong. He was dressed in smart fine clothes, a contrast to the rumbled robes he'd been wearing before, and he held his jeweled cane in his upraised hand.

He cast the cane aside and began descending the stairs all on his own without even touching the railing.

"Sir!" Anthony moved forward to help but got waved off.

Everyone else around the room started out in silence which quickly turned to applause, whoops, and cheers as he reached the bottom of the staircase.

Stalyan stood stunned. She had a hand over her mouth and wide watery eyes.

When the Baron reached them at the bottom of the steps, she ran into his arms. The Baron lifted her up off her feet. He laughed heartily as he spun her around.

Varian felt a stab of ugly childish envy at the happy reunion. With each passing day, it felt like it became less likely that he would ever be reunited with his own father.

Hector must have noticed his face fall because he reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Varian didn't know exactly what Hector was trying to convey with the gesture but it did make him feel less alone.

When Stalyan pulled back, she whipped the tears out of her eyes.

"Oh, dad! That was too much too soon!" She chastised him without any real anger.

"Sweetheart, I've never felt better in my whole life."

"But still…"

"Congratulations, boss!" Anthony clapped him on the shoulder.

The Baron turned to him and before the Weasel could say anything more, he too was pulled into a hug. It wasn't nearly as long or tearful as the first one, and Anthony pulled back looking utterly bewildered, but it was still a nice scene.

With the Baron this close Varian could see him far better. His coloring had improved, and it looked like the rash had retreated a few inches along the edges. Though he did seem to be breathing harder than normal and was clammier than a fully recovered man ought to be.

But still, the infected points on his skin had scabbed over nicely and were well on their way to healing.

Varian let out a relieved breath.

"It looks like your body is fighting the infection. You might even be totally recovered by the end of the week. You should continue resting, but you might not even need this last dose," Varian held out the sealed vial.

"I feel totally recovered now, Master Alchemist," he complimented. "And I'm done with resting."

"But just in case." Varian handed it off to the Baron.

The Baron uncorked it and drank it down without hesitation, he didn't even cringe at the bitter taste.

"I have plenty more here." Varian handed a full flask off to him. "I doubt you'll need it, but just in case. And I wrote down my methodology in the stack of paper downstairs. You can always get the apothecary to make more should the need arise."

"Thank you." Stalyan said. "For everything."

"Now then," the Baron said. "Onto the matter of payment for this job."

The Baron handed over a large sack. Varian wondered what was inside. It was far too large for coins.

Varian took hold of the bag.

"Why thank you—Oh!" As the Baron released the bag, it fell hard on the ground with a loud clank. Varian had been pulled down along with it. Ruddiger had to scramble to maintain his perch on his shoulders.

He pulled it open to see that it was indeed full of golden coins. A sack of gold that was literally too heavy to carry!

It felt like something that would happen to an adventurer like Flynn Rider not plain old, farm-boy like Varian.

"The tradition in Vardaros is if someone saves your life, you pay them their weight in gold."

Varian laughed at the absurdity of it all. His alchemy skills always felt barely tolerated back at home, here and now they felt celebrated and appreciated. He was so glad everything had gone well, and he avoided catastrophic mistakes for once.

Hector had to pick the gold up for him and even he had to put some effort into it.

"I'm not done yet," the Baron said. He passed another two items over. A dagger and something round and metallic.

"A dagger?" Varian asked in confusion as he examined it. The blade had a wicked curve to it and a strange channel running down either side of the blade. The handle and pommel seemed unremarkable, if not too light and unbalanced.

"A poisoner's dagger," the Baron explained, "The pommel twists off and you can pour any potion you like in there. When the blade is depressed, it will run down the channel and poison anyone struck with it."

"Whoa…" was all Varian could think to say. It seemed wicked and cruel, but the design was ingenious. He might even disassemble it to figure out how it worked before he gave it to Hector.

Varian also examined the second item in confusion. "A helm?" he asked.

"It once belonged to the bounty hunter 'The Collector,'" he explained.

Varian pulled it on over his head and lifted his hood. The lens was tinted but clear enough to see through easily.

"What do you think?" He turned to Hector.

Hector smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. "Menacing."

"I had a specialist modify it into a welding mask." The Baron went on.

"Really?" Varian asked in surprise. Pulling the helm off to examine it again.

"Yes," he smiled and nodded. "It will help you on your next job."

"My what?"

"Making automatons for us," he clarified. "Your next job."

"Oh. I think there's been some kind of miscommunication." Varian's stomach sank. "I can't do that for you, Mister The Baron, Sir. We need to move on."

"No miscommunication," he said politely. "I'd hoped you'd come around after seeing all we can offer you. But at your age, it might be difficult to understand. Especially after everything you've been put through."

Varian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Looking around now, the group of criminals he thought were his farewell party watched him closely. They were standing at the ready with hands on sword pommels.

"It's the right thing to do, of course." The Baron went on. "You are a criminal mastermind. And a prodigy to boot. I know this is where you belong, and deep down you know it too."

"No." Varian had to make a real effort to tamp down his panic. "I just wanted to get by. And help where I can. I'm not trying to build up a criminal reputation."

"If you don't see it as an opportunity, recognize it as what's best for your survival," the Baron said. "The Coronans will never stop hunting you. There's no place in the Seven Kingdoms where the Sun cannot reach. Together, we all can protect you better than one man. No offense, sir." He gave a courteous half-nod to Hector.

"The kid already said 'no'," Hector spoke up for the first time. "If you are going to try falsely detain someone, at least don't pretend it's because you're just so benevolent."

"You are right, of course." The Baron granted. "I do have my own reasons. I want to settle the score with Rider and stand up to the Coronans, not just run away."

"I wish you all the best with that," Varian said still trying to be appeasing, but still taking a step back. "But I can't take part."

"But you can. You'll see."

"I very nearly made chemical weapons for terrorists when I was imprisoned," he admitted, fiddling with the vial of Flynnolium again. "I'm not going to turn around and make them for you all. I'm sorry."

The foyer fell silent for only a moment before the sound of the slide of steel filled the room. The happy crowd of well-wishers all drew swords.

"Really now, gentlemen." The Baron sounded disappointed.

Hector drew his sword and stepped in front of Varian.

The Baron gave a weary sigh and turned to his men.

"The young master alchemist is not to be harmed," he ordered firmly.

"However. The guardian…?" The Baron eyed Hector and shrugged. "Do what you must."

Varian felt a cold rush of fear.

"Dad!" he watched as Stalyan rounded on her father. "We decided we weren't going to do it like this!"

The Baron inclined his head. "Ah, my apologies, Sweetheart. It might be difficult to return to the original chain of command. You've worked so hard to lead in my absence. But I'm back now, and you might not be included in every personnel decision."

"Personnel decision?!" she spluttered. "Anthony!" she turned sharply to the Weasel.

"Sorry, Stal, just following orders," he shrugged. "Plus, your old man's right about this one."

"Enough of this!" Hector interrupted their bickering. He leveled his blade at the Baron.

The Baron met his eyes steadily. He took up a golden, gem-encrusted sword. He had a hand on the banister and leaned on it for support.

"Move!" Anthony ordered as he raised his own sword.

He heard the click of Stalyan's heels as she dashed up the stairs.

Varian took a deep breath and took hold of two of his potions in each hand. He put his back on Hector and prepared for the fight.

Hector fought off the first few thugs that charged them. Another went for a thrust with a hidden dagger while he was occupied.

Before he could land his blow, his feet failed to move forward. They both looked down to see the man's feet trapped in a pile of pink adhesive.

He tried to yank his feet free only to look up in shock. Hector simply punched him across his face. The man fell back but was unable to fall flat because his feet and ankles were still trapped in place.

"Thanks," he grunted.

"Look out!" Varian shouted back.

Another man went for a strike and Hector knocked the blade away and kicked the feet out from under him. It was a relief to fight plainclothes enemies again after the overly armored Coronans.

This was the kind of fight he liked. If Varian had not been here, he'd be having a great time.

It seemed like the men learned better than to approach them individually. Several of the Baron's men prepared to charge them all at once.

Varian withdrew one of those small blue marbles he had made for cleaning castle floors. Hector had only a moment to feel confused before he cast it down onto the floor before them.

Shimmering flaming soap suds spread out across the floor. Men slipped on the slick floors and even more stumbled unsteadily on their feet, severely slowing their charge.

Hector had a much easier time cutting down those who made it through on unsteady feet.

If they weren't in such a critical situation Hector would be heaping praise on their ability to collaborate so effectively.

Not that it was perfect.

Soon the flaw in their defense became apparent. Varian was incredible at keeping people at a distance and downing them before they had the chance to reach them. But he had no recourse should they break through and get in close.

More than once, Hector had to spin around and dispatch a man who had managed to evade the smoke bombs, glue traps, and knockout dust. But Varian could stop most enemies before they got a chance to reach them.

Varian shouldn't even be in a situation like this in the first place, Hector lamented yanking a man's head down into an upward strike with his knee. A Son of Darkness, a skilled crafter, his own blood, a child acting like a warrior. How distasteful.

He yanked the mace out of a criminal's hands and threw it at another one. The man fell tripping the one running up behind him.

Hector had decided early on not to inflict the burden of combat on Varian. That was his own duty after all. Besides, Varian was far too young.

But here and now, he almost wished he'd taught his nephew a thing or two about personal defense. But that was flawed thinking; he shouldn't have allowed them to be put into this position in the first place.

The Weasel scrambled up the stairs and in a quick dash.

Hector's eyes widened in shock as the Weasel wound back and he threw a hand axe up through the air in an arc. It cut through the cord holding up the giant crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

The cord snapped and the chandelier swayed and plummeted to the ground.

Varian and Hector were both forced to leap out of the way. They jumped in opposite directions as the chandelier crashed to the ground, effectively separating the two.

Hector peered over the ruined heap of crystal, glass, and gold in the middle of the foyer. Varian staggered backward, looking around in confusion. Ruddiger leaped back up onto his shoulders from where he'd fallen.

The Weasel was back down the stairs and upon him before either of them could move.

He grabbed Varian by the hood of his cloak.

"This is no place for you, pal." He swung open the door of the basement and shoved Varian backward.

Hector heard Ruddiger chitter in terror alongside Varian's shout of protest.

The Weasel slammed the door shut and locked it. He dropped the key into his pocket.

Hector's worry warred with his relief. At least he was out of the fight for now.

He blocked another blow and ducked below the swing of a sword. The dance went on for another minute. A man's thrust with a dagger missed him by a hair.

The sound of a low monstrous chitter filled the foyer.

Looks of confusion passed over the faces of the amassed criminals.

Hector's shoulders dropped in realization, and he burst out laughing.

More confused looks fell on him.

"That was probably the dumbest thing you could have done!" he laughed.

The Weasel gripped the key in his pocket. "What are you—"

A green explosion shook the entire manor.

The thick wooden door to the basement flew across the room, striking a man in its flight, and slammed into the opposite wall.

The explosion knocked several men off their feet and stunned or blinded dozens more.

A few scrabbled across the room trying to pat out the raging green flames on their clothes.

A mad scientist's laugh echoed across the room.

Cast in stark relief against the bright flame, the dark figure of the monstrous Ruddiger stepped out of the basement.

Varian found the crate in the basement.

Ruddiger snarled and Varian could be seen riding on his back, hood raised, and new shining metal helm in place. The eerie green light reflected off the polished metal surface, as well as the silver threading on his long blue cloak. It shined on the surface of the glass vials and test tubes on his bandolier running across his chest. He clutched his glowing staff in one hand and had a colorful vial between each of his figures in the other.

He gave another laugh as he tossed them into the crowd. Ruddiger batted a few people out of his way as easily, as if they were rag dolls, and charged back into the room.

Many men simply opted to drop their swords and flee at this point.

Those who managed to rally faced a barrage of colorful potions.

A few clouds of purple smoke emerged, and criminals caught up in them thudded on the ground, out cold.

One man sprinted forward and raised a sword in the air only for the metal blade to dissolve in a hissing puddle of yellow acid. The man dropped it quickly and scrambled back.

If the acid could melt steel like ice, what could it do to clothes? Skin? Flesh? Bones?

Even more men caught a breath of one of dark green vapor and immediately fell and vomited onto the floor.

Hector had to wonder if these were planned strikes or if Varian was just throwing out whatever he had at hand.

For every one of them who went down from the knockout powder, there was another who suddenly found himself with bright pink hair.

For every man trapped in place by the sticky stuff, another found himself with a potion that seemed to change his mood or personality? Or just spouting out unsolicited truths.

For everyone stunned by a flash bang, another found himself with a stain-free shirt.

Odds were even Varian was chucking out random stuff.

"Look out!" Varian shouted and tossed another potion. It was the familiar light green one he seemed to favor. When it shattered in the middle of the foyer another powerful green explosion rattled the entire manor.

Hector remembered a hazy vision of danger and green flames, but instead of concern, he felt nothing but awe and a warm sense of pride.

It was utter pandemonium.

Visibility was poor.

Some of the chemicals in the air must have been flammable. As some of the lit oil lanterns on the walls erupted into open flames.

People ran around screaming in fear, tripping over their fallen cohorts, slipping in vomit, and getting stuck in the adhesive.

It was nearly enough to bring a proud tear to his eye.

Hector laughed again and scanned the crowd.

He saw the tall figure of the Baron standing among the chaos. He shouted for his men to compose themselves and focus their attacks on the monster.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Hector grinned and charged the Baron. He leaped over debris and downed men as he went.

He went for an overhead swing, but the Baron managed to get his blade up in a block in time. He was able to push him back a step and Hector swung again.

Blade rang on blade like hammer on anvil. The two of them both had enormous strength, and both put them to use. The Baron was a much bigger man. But Hector had been blessed by the Moon. The two were nearly matched in strength despite their difference in size. It was unusual for him. Hector usually enjoyed a considerable strength advantage against all of his foes, but this man held his own.

If this kept up, the Baron might just wear him out.

Each blow felt like a battering ram. His wounded shoulder ached with all the effort.

They eventually split apart, and Hector had to catch his breath. The Baron was also breathing hard. He seemed much more affected by the exertion. The man was certainly not as recovered as he'd let on before.

Hector straightened his back and rallied his strength to get ready for another bout.

The Baron also stood up straight, still breathing heavily, and raised his sword.

Varian rode Ruddiger up between the two of them, and Hector lost sight of the Baron.

"You are going to over-exert yourself!" he heard Varian angrily chastise the man. "I did not spend all that time for you to go and make yourself sick again!"

The Baron gave a shout of frustration and raised his blade to go for a slice at Ruddiger's flank.

He got a face full of knock-out powder before his stroke could fall.

"I said rest!" Varian scolded. The Baron tipped backward and thudded hard on the staircase.

He heaved a heavy sigh. Varian turned back to Hector and held out a hand. "Let's get out of here."

People had scattered.

The fire raged on.

Stalyan was nowhere to be seen.

The Weasel struggled to pull free from the pink glue fastening him to the wall.

The flames had caught a ceiling beam and it collapsed into the middle of the foyer.

"You got it, kid," he said, accepting the hand up.

Hector climbed up behind him and held on. Ruddiger burst out of the large double doors of the manor. He snarled into the open air.

Varian had to hold on tight as Ruddiger broke out into a full sprint.

"We should get out of town before we draw any more attention!" Hector called out past the rushing wind.

They rushed past the gates and down the streets.

"I just don't understand," Varian said as he gripped the reigns.

"What?" Hector asked as he turned in the saddle to watch out behind them.

"Why did this happen?" He asked, letting himself feel the hurt of the betrayal as the adrenaline wore off.

"They're scum bags. Criminals." Hector said. "It's my fault. I'm the grown-up here. I should have put my foot down about working with them."

Varian shook his head. "No, I'm not a child. Besides, this always happens to me."

Varian pictured Eugene looking at him with distrust at the science expo, Rapunzel turning away from him on the night of the blizzard, the masked face of the Captain rushing into his home unprovoked, Cassandra rushing him with a sword in the vault, and every single Coronan marching on his home under Fredrick's banner even though he'd just told them he lied about the black rocks.

"Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?" he asked. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He hoped Hector would think it was just from the rush of wind.

Hector said nothing, he reached past him and took hold of the reigns out of Varian's trembling hands.

Varian released them and wiped his face clear and took a few deep breaths.

"No kid," Hector finally said handing the reigns back to him. "It wasn't you. I should have… Wait. What's going on?"

Varian didn't know what he was talking about. There was nothing and no one in their way. The streets lay totally empty.

Oh. Wait, that was probably what he meant.

How did a bustling city like Vardaros have dead streets in the middle of the day like this?

The courtyards and alleyways they bypassed had no people, no commuters, no muggers, nothing.

Varian thought he caught sight of movement under a marketplace awning. He leaned forward slightly to see better, but before he could make anything out, he caught a flash of something. A quick movement, a flash of something dark and metallic cast out across the street.

Varian only had an instant to recognize a long chain stretched from one side of the street to the other before Ruddiger was upon it.

The chain was raised up and pulled taught from where it had been wrapped around one light post to another on the opposite side of the open street.

Varian didn't even have time to raise his voice in alarm before Ruddiger tripped.

He fell, flipping end over end.

Varian was weightless for a moment. He had the presence of mind to register the feeling of an arm wrapping around his middle and being tucked into Hector's chest, as they were thrown through the air.

The ground came rushing up to him.

They hit the ground. Hard. Hector took the brunt of the fall and grunted at the impact.

They tumbled and rolled.

When they rolled to a stop, Hector was laid out on his back stunned. He groaned in pain.

Varian had skid out of his grip and taken a scrape across the arm he used to stop his fall. The road rash stung and broke skin but not enough to bleed. He still hissed in pain.

Varian's vision was hazy, and dust had been kicked up all around the street.

Hector slowly pulled himself up, rubbing his head.

Varian heard men shouting and looked up to see Ruddiger swatting at people swarming around him.

The chain was still caught up around one of his front legs. And the men launched another set of chains across his form and another and another. Tightening it and pulling him down.

"Ruddiger!" Varian shouted, pushing himself up onto his feet.

He saw the group of men through the dust in the air, a few broke off to approach where Hector and Varian were scattered out on the cobblestones.

He saw one of the men sprint across the road with a large rope in hand, tightening a loop around Ruddiger's hind legs. He yanked the loop together, forcing him off balance.

Varian rushed towards his friend before he even thought about it.

He swayed as his head swam with dizziness and he stumbled on his feet.

Hector reached out to stop him, but Varian rushed on.

One of the men emerging from the cloud of dust made a grab for him but Varian ducked under his arms.

He caught a glimpse of shining polished gold.

Varian felt his stomach lurch like he was going to vomit but he forced himself to keep running.

The men surrounding Ruddiger heaved on a shouted command and Ruddiger was pushed down onto the ground.

Varian reached him and yanked on the ropes and chains, but they wouldn't budge.

Ruddiger chittered a warning at him. Trying to make him run.

"No! You've gotta get out of here!" Varian shouted. He withdrew the dagger the Baron had given him and tried to saw at one of the ropes.

He felt an iron-tight grip on his arm and a sharp tug backward.

Ruddiger growled and lunged forward against his bonds. Jaws snapped at the Coronan that had apprehended Varian.

The man yelped in fear.

"I said: Hold!" the command rang out into the chaotic street.

The Coronan grabbed onto him again. The other men pulled the chains tighter. He caught sight of Hector crossing steel with some of the guards a few paces back.

One of us has to get out of this. Varian thought in a panic. He grabbed a scarlet capsule from his bandolier.

Ruddiger cried in protest as he recognized it. Varian squirmed out of the Coronan's grip with all his strength. The man's fingers gave way, but Varian was pulled off his feet by his own momentum. He hit the ground but crawled forward, closing the distance between them.

He felt a booted foot on his back, pressing him flat into the dirt, stopping his forward movement.

Ruddiger screeched, and Varian took the opportunity to throw the capsule and reverted Ruddiger back to his original form.

The chains and ropes all fell loose.

Ruddiger was free!

"Get out of—Ah!" He shouted as the Coronan increased the pressure on his back and Varian grunted in pain.

Ruddiger didn't turn and run.

He gave a defiant squeak and charged forward.

"No!" Varian wheezed. "Run! You aren't big anymore!"

Ruddiger didn't slow his charge. The raccoon faced down the entire crowd of armed and armored Coronan men.

And charged right into the thick of them.

His eyes blazed in defiance as he screeched right up to Varian. He launched himself up the tall figure of the Coronan on top of Varian.

The tiny mammal scratched and bit at the Coronan's exposed face and throat.

"Ouch!" The Coronan shouted out, more in shock than in actual pain, but he backed off all the same.

Varian pushed himself up and tried to turn to see what was going on.

He saw Ruddiger get thrown to the ground and bounce.

"Ruddiger!" he cried in panic.

The raccoon gave a pained hiss and struggled back up to his feet.

Varian was going to call out again, but his line of sight was broken as more Coronans closed in on him.

The street rushed away from him as he was lifted up by the front of his clothes. He saw a gloved fist wind back and felt a hard blow across his face.

Varian felt his whole body shake with shock, he saw flashes of lights and colors play across his vision, tears stung his eyes, and the pain made him cry out.

He took a quick shuddering breath and reached for something, anything on his bandolier. He didn't have time to uncork the vial, he simply crushed the glass in his hand and launched it in an arc at the man's face.

He screamed. From the chemical or the broken glass, he did not know.

Varian watched as the Coronan's eyes rolled back into his head and he tipped backward.

Varian tried to land on his feet, but his knees buckled. He caught himself on hands and knees. He was about to push himself up when a pair of polished black leather boots stopped right before him.

His eyes trailed up to a red and gold uniform, medals and heraldry, a wide face, brown hair, and a tidy mustache.

Varian's eyes widened.

"C-Captain…?"

The Captain of the Coronan royal guard stood before him.

Varian wished he could move. Find his feet so he could stand up to this man. But fear cut his knees out from under him.

The Captain said nothing, he just pulled back a booted foot and delivered a sharp kick into Varian's side and stomach.

Varian gagged and coughed and fell into the dust trying to control his breathing and process the pain.

He looked up at the familiar sight of the Captain glaring down at him as he spasmed in pain.

The gold-clad men swarmed them like insects. There were roughly a dozen of them. Half that number were struggling to restrain Ruddiger.

Hector pressed a hand onto his injured shoulder. He nearly missed Varian rushing past him. He absently made to grab him, but he slipped away.

Hector struggled to his feet; he felt a head rush at the abrupt movement. He took a step forward only to find his path cut off by Coronans.

A single figure rushed out from the group of men to confront him directly while the rest hung back.

It struck him as strange. The Coronans usually seemed to rely on their strength in numbers and superior equipment in a fight.

But it was not a shining golden cuirass in front of him. The man wore a simple green cloak and the only metal he saw was the sheriff's badge on his chest.

That, and the flash of his blade.

Hector only just managed to get his own sword up and deployed in time to catch the thrust of the sheriff's sword.

"You are under arrest!" Sheriff Quaid shouted. "Please! Surrender yourself! And command your charge to do the same!"

"Stand aside and let us go!" Hector shouted back.

Quaid wound up to swing his sword again. Hector held his ground and blocked the strike.

And the next and the next.

Where the Baron was strong and oppressive, Quaid was impossibly swift and elusive.

The Baron's blows had raddled him and made his joints ache, but Quaid was able to get in small swift cuts here and there as they went back and forth.

Hector had no doubt that this outlast, and death-by-a-thousand-cuts method was effective on a normal man, but Hector could go on for hours. With his strength and endurance, he had no doubt he could win this.

The only question was: would he win in time to help Varian?

Hector lashed out with a powerful blow, pushing Quaid back for the first time. But the man leaped back, quick as a viper, before his sword could do any real damage.

Hector understood why they called him the quickest blade in the west.

Over his shoulder, Hector heard a familiar sound. The puff of smoke and displacement of mass as Ruddiger transformed.

Quaid was momentarily distracted by the sight of a giant monster seemingly magically vanishing before his eyes.

Hector took advantage of his distraction and tackled him to the ground.

The sheriff's bald head hit the ground and Hector stood up fast and punched him across the face.

Once.

Again.

And a third time for good measure.

Hector stood and kicked the sheriff's sword away. The man was still conscious but not about to rise anytime soon.

"Ruddiger!" he heard Varian cry out in despair. He whipped around and ran towards his voice.

Another Coronan stood in his path. Hector knew they had no armor protecting their legs, so he aimed a slash there. Decades of training aimed the slash at the femoral artery, but head trauma made the arc go wild.

The man went down all the same. Another Coronan rushed forward, and Hector had to sidestep and block.

He knocked the sword from his hands. And Hector grabbed him at the front of his armor and pulled him closer.

Instead of trying to pull away, the Coronan came readily. In fact, he jerked forward and slammed his helmeted head into Hector's face. Hector felt the clang of metal on his skull.

The Coronan overbalanced with his abrupt motion and Hector was able to shove him away.

His hands instinctively flew up to his nose to see if it had broken.

No blood.

He still stumbled back… Swaying back and forth on his feet…

Hector slumped down… vision swimming… he balanced on a hand and his knees…

All the blood loss from last night, the nasty fall off Ruddiger, and now the direct blow to the head.

Hector was not sure how much more of this he could take…

His mind was moving slowly.

He vaguely felt himself being pulled up and dragged. He wanted to protest but he was being pulled in the direction he had heard Varian cry out.

He looked up.

Hector saw the one he'd recognized from outside of the Baron's manor. The large one with the mustache. He was dressed in his Coronan armor with extra heraldry that marked his rank as Captain.

He gave commands to the Coronans around them and watched keenly as one of his men hauled Varian up to his feet.

It painted a stark contrast, Varian's demeanor. The difference between him powerful and terrifying facing down the criminals to meek and scared with the Coronas.

Hector watched as a pair of heavy metal shackles were fastened about his nephew's bony wrists. His eyes went from wide and frightened to dull and hopeless as the lock clanked with finality.

His vision came into focus.

When Hector was young, he'd seen a tree struck by lightning.

After he lost his home, he'd been caught out in a storm. He crested a hill and came upon an old oak tree buffeted about by the wind and rain. The branches moved but the trunk continued to stand tall and still. Then in a flash of light, the sky opened up and the whole world seemed to go blinding white. The tree erupted into a blazing red fire that raged on and on in the middle of the pounding rain.

Hector felt like he was that tree and the sight of the metal shackles locking around Varian's wrists was the lightning. And just like back then, the world was blazing red.

His lax muscles went tense and in a rush of adrenaline, he planted his feet firmly on the ground and shoved away the man who held him.

He crashed into the side of a building with a loud 'clang' and fell to the ground.

Hector closed the distance between them in the space of a few beats of his racing heart.

He cried out in a sound more like a wounded animal than a man and struck out with all his strength at the man holding the chains.

He wanted to see his blade fly straight through the head of the man who'd put the shackles on Varian.

But no.

No matter how strong he was, or how well-made his blade, he still could not cut through a steel helm like paper. The sword didn't slice through the metal. But it did leave a deep indent in the metal's surface. The blade buried deep, several inches in. There was no way that the man's skull had not also caved in like the helm.

The man dropped dead on the spot. Probably didn't even feel death take him.

It took an effort to pull his sword free and retract it.

Someone had yanked Varian back and away from him.

A man latched around Hector's right arm, both arms trying to restrain his sword arm. Then another grabbed hold of his left.

Hector kept walking towards Varian against the pull of the two men.

Then another man grabbed hold of him about the waist, and another at his shoulders.

They were shouting things at him. He wasn't sure if they were words or not. He kept pulling against them.

He took another step.

He just had to get to Varian.

Another step, he dragged them all along with him.

Varian reached out towards him from where he stood looking so small and fearful in the grip of the Coronan.

Hector took another step and reached out in return.

The one trying to hold back his arm shouted and tried to pull it back, but Hector paid him no mind.

The kid was counting on him.

He almost missed it when the man in the green cloak limped up to them.

He cradled his battered face in one hand and held a familiar-looking purple capsule in the other.

He barked out some kind of command that Hector didn't understand.

"Wait! Don't! You promised me you wouldn't! You promised!"

Hector heard Varian cry out at the sheriff, but his mind didn't register the meaning of all the words. Just the distress.

"Not this again…" he heard the Coronan Captain sneer.

Quaid threw Varian's knockout powder into his face.

The world went from red to purple, then black.

Chapter Text

“Is he an Ingvarri agent?”

“No.”

“Was he sent by the Griffin of Pittsford?”

“No.”

“A Saporian Nationalist?”

“No.”

“Don’t tell me this was a King Trevor plot?” The Captain of the Coronan royal guard crossed his arms.

“No.”

“What about the Baron’s organization?” Quaid asked. “You fell in with them pretty quick. Did they orchestrate your escape?”

The Sheriff sat on an old stool and held a damp cloth to his bruised and battered face. If he hadn’t broken his promise about the knockout powder, Varian might have felt bad for the man.

"No, and no." Varian sighed. He had to answer. But no one said he had to answer in detail.

“What about the Pirates Caine?”

“Oh, please,” Vex interrupted. She leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. “If he was working for the pirates or the Baron, why wouldn’t he have broken out Lady Caine or the Stabbington Brothers at the same time?”

“Good point.” Quaid nodded.

"And the same goes for your Saporians." She turned to the Captain. She sounded annoyed he'd even brought it up. "If he was an enemy of Corona, he wouldn't have only busted out Nich— Varian,” she corrected herself.

Varian shivered. He dropped his gaze to the stone floor of the cell he was locked up in. He didn’t know if Vex was hurt or annoyed that he’d lied to her, and he was too much of a coward to look up and confirm it.

A steady trickle of water leaked in through the old, barred window of the cell. The water passed the pair of iron shackles bored into the thick brick wall. It was a tower cell, several stories up, meant to prevent prisoners from trying the window.

The Captain, Vex, and Quaid all stood in the room before him.

Apparently, the Captain really wanted to know how Hector broke in and out of the Coronan Castle. More than that, he wanted to determine if the escape had been an international conspiracy. If one of Corona’s enemies were trying to strike a blow at them using Varian.

The three of them had been talking at him for the last hour. The Captain in his usual cold clipped questions. Quaid adopted a more cordial persona. And Vex was making snide remarks at all three of them in turn.

Varian had seen Good Cop-Bad Cop before, but never Good Cop-Bad Cop-Ticked off at everyone Cop. That was a new one for him.

Varian sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, with his knees up near his chest. He was not sitting this way because he was frightened. It was just cold and there was nowhere else to sit.

There was an old wooden bench on the wall, but Hector was laying on it. He was still unconscious from the knockout powder.

Hector looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but his face was also bloodless pale.

Varian knew when unconscious, the heart slowed and core body temperature dropped. He was probably colder than Varian was.

Vex had just called someone a ‘clod’, and Varian sighed again. He stood up and undid the clasp on his blue cloak. He draped it over Hector.

As he tucked it in place, the fabric shifted. Out of the hood of the cloak, something fell loose. The torchlight shined off the sharp jagged edge of a broken glass test tube.

His eyes widened.

It must have ended up in there in all the chaos! And the guards must have missed it when he’d been frisked!

Varian quickly tucked it up his sleeve. He shot a quick look back toward the others in the room.

They missed it! He had to quickly stop an excited smile from springing up.

“Tender gesture for a sellsword,” the Captain commented mildly. His voice shattered Varian’s tiny victory.

“He’s not a sellsword,” Varian corrected before he could stop himself. He’d been doing his best to say as little as possible.

The Captain seemed to take the response as an invitation.

“Then who is he? Who sent him? How did he invade the Castle? Was it the tunnels? Who told him about them?” The Captain immediately asked.

Varian sunk back down to the ground. He leaned his face against the cool prison bars.

"Why don't we continue this on the ‘morrow," Quaid suggested. "It's been hours."

“How did you escape?” the Captain asked. He leaned toward him, ignoring Quaid.

“How did you find me?” Varian shot back. The Captain’s jaw tightened before his face relaxed and he stood up straight again.

“I’m not an unreasonable man,” the Captain said in a far softer tone than Varian had ever heard from him. “If I tell you, will you tell me?”

Varian blinked in surprise. “Um. Sure.”

"We debated what happened extensively," the Captain started immediately. "Most believed you were working with agents of Equis. But I knew better than that. And sure enough, if it were true you wouldn't have stopped here, but gone on through to there. Another theory was that Pittsford sent your accomplice. Diplomatic tensions have always been high there."

He examined Varian’s face, looking for a reaction to confirm or deny either theory.

Varian didn’t move and said nothing.

“Though I maintained that the accomplice was from Ingvarr. They have been a growing power on the continent. Their Queen grows bolder and bolder each year.

"You're crazy." Varian felt an upswell of annoyance. This arrogant man always thought he knew everything, even when he was dead wrong. And he bristled at the notion that Hector was using him like the Baron or Andrew tried to.

"He's not working for Equis, or Pittsford, or anyone. He just rescued me."

The Captain gave him a flat look.

“Oh please. Are you that obliviously naive that you can't see? You are supposed to be some kind of genius. You really think he did it out of the kindness of his heart?”

Varian clenched his teeth. He’d been determined to not say anything, but the more the Captain spoke the more irritated he became.

“Familial obligation,” he corrected.

His expression flickered in confusion.

“Is that what he told you?” He sounded almost pitying. "Boy, your father had no people. That's why his Royal Majesty was so magnanimous to let him live in Old Corona. Think about it: Your father never spoke of any family, then this man comes out of the blue claiming a familial connection?" He laughed. "My word, boy, you're lucky we found you before he managed to get you too far."

Varian suppressed an eye roll.

“But as for how we found you; Fredrick believed you wouldn’t just callously abandon your father, but he clearly thinks more of you than you deserve. I knew you would act to save yourself. Worse, that you would seek revenge on Cassandra and Rapunzel. And I knew if we were going to protect Cassandra and the princess, I needed to ride north. I took a dozen of my best men and rode off that very night. Imagine my shock when a week on the road and I’m met by a rider in the night from Vardaros. He carried an urgent message for King Fredrick.”

Varian cursed himself. It was all his fault.

If it hadn’t been for him being so poorly, they wouldn’t have stopped here. If he hadn’t made such a name for himself in the city, they might have even slipped past the local Coronan’s notice. And if it hadn’t been for his deal with Stalyan extending their stay, they may not have caught up.

“Now then. Your side of the bargain,” the Captain said.

“Right,” Varian said, resigned. It’s not like it made a difference anymore. “I’m not sure exactly. I wasn’t with him when he broke in, and I was not in my mind when he broke out. I don’t remember it. But I know it wasn’t the tunnels. I showed them to him for the first time after the fact. He said he scaled the walls and found an open window and snuck around from there.”

The Captain’s shoulders dropped, and his expression turned bitter. “I should have known you couldn’t be trusted in even this.”

“It's true!” Varian insisted. He almost suggested the Captain go grab the truth serum they’d confiscated from him. But he knew they wouldn’t stop asking questions after just that.

The Captain kicked the bars of the cell near where Varian sat. He flinched back.

The loud CLANG of the metal bars rang out around the room.

Varian wasn’t sure if it was an intimidation tactic or if the Captain had just missed. His ribs still ached from the last kick he’d gotten from this man.

“I’ve had enough,” the Captain turned away in frustration. “We’ll see what the accomplice has to say tomorrow.”

Varian struggled to get his racing heartbeat under control.

He felt alone. He wished he had Hector to back him up in the interrogation. But no. That’s immature. He shouldn’t act like a little boy hanging off his mother’s apron strings.

“I’ll put one of my men on the door,” the Captain said to the Sherriff.

“What’s wrong with my guards?” the Sheriff asked, crossing his arms.

“Other than the fact that they failed to arrest them in the week that they’ve been here?” the Captain asked with a raised brow.

“He didn’t commit any crimes here. And Vardaros doesn’t have extradition agreements with any government,” Quaid defended. “He’s only been apprehended as a courtesy to Corona.”

“He’s only been apprehended because we apprehended him,” The Captain corrected him. “We removed a dangerous fugitive from your city. You are welcome.”

“No one complained we decided not to execute any of the active warrants on your prince consort,” Vex chipped in.

“I would have been quite amused if you had,” the Captain said, his tone bordered on amused for the first time. He almost looked like he might crack a smile at the girl.

"He wouldn't have even been here in the first place if Corona knew how to secure its prisoners," Quaid shot back. And the Captain's face went back to stone.

“Did your oh-so-capable men manage to recover his sword yet?” The Captain asked coolly.

"No," Quaid said with an eyeroll. "But it is you people who call him 'Dark Wizard.' He probably vanished it."

“Your people can’t even secure a sword. I’m not going to entrust you with the most dangerous fugitive on the continent.”

"All this fuss over a simple abduction and fight," Vex complained.

The Captain shot her a glare.

“You Coronans are way more sensitive than the last lot was,” she continued, unbothered. “Hell, when the Baron abducted Eugene, I even helped with—”

“Deputy!” The Sheriff shouted. His voice echoed about the small stone room, and everyone flinched at the anger in his voice. Quaid’s eyes flew to the Captain before returning to Vex. “Enough! Go do your evening patrols. Now!”

Varian was immediately reminded of his dad. That tone was the exact same one he’d use on Varian whenever one of his experiments got too out of hand. Quaid wasn’t angry. He was frightened.

He wondered if his own expression had crumbled in dejection like hers did. Her eyes became watery, and she glared back and forth between him and the Captain.

“But he—”

“Now, Vex! I will not tell you again!” Quaid shouted. She squeezed her eyes shut before she whirled around and ran from the room. Her footsteps echoed down the stairs. The door swung open and slammed shut.

“What did she help with?” The Captain asked coolly after a beat of silence. The tension in the room was thick.

"She helped with the investigation," Quaid answered smoothly.

If he wasn’t such a lousy oath-breaker Varian might have admired him in that moment.

“In any event,” Quaid said, “Put your man on the door. But everyone sets out by first light.”

He grabbed the ring of keys on his belt and reached for the cell door.

“What are you doing?” the Captain asked.

“We should move him before the man wakes up,” the Sheriff turned the key.

Varian’s heart leapt in fear. He shuffled back away from the cell door.

“Why?” The Captain asked, confused.

Varian never thought he’d ever agree with the man.

“What do you mean ‘why’? You can’t just lock up a juvenile offender with an adult. He could hurt him.”

The Captain gave a dismissive laugh as if he found the idea absurd.

Varian wondered what Quaid would have had to say about the Andrew arrangement.

The Sheriff looked annoyed by the laugh. “He stabbed a man in the market. And that’s not even mentioning the charnel house he made of the inn.”

"He made all the decisions that led him to be locked up with that maniac. His fate is his own," the Captain said as he turned to leave the room.

“How could you say that?” Quaid asked. “He’s just a boy.”

“I wasn’t speaking of the boy.” His footsteps echoed down the stairs. He heard the door swing open and slam shut.

The Sheriff stood before the cell looking conflicted.

Varian sighed. "Don't bother. It's fine. Despite what that blowhard said, he is my uncle."

“It’s policy, young man. You might not see it, but he’s dangerous.”

“I was locked up with a violent offender for months back in Corona,” Varian argued.

Quaid blinked in surprise then set a determined look on his face. “This is not Corona.”

“He won’t hurt me,” Varian tried again. “That will come when they take me out of this place.”

He still looked conflicted, but clicked the lock back into place and took a half step back.

"Truly, not separating us is the kindest thing you could do for me now," Varian assured him.

The sheriff’s shoulders fell, and he let the ring of keys fall back to his belt.

“They aren’t going to hurt you. Though I will admit, they’re not what I expected. After meeting the princess, I mean.”

"They aren't all that different," Varian muttered clenching his fists. "She's got you all fooled into thinking she's this perfect magical princess."

“I’m not fooled,” the Sheriff assured him. “I know exactly how she can be. She restored me to my original position based on a lie. But her heart was always true, and she still did far more good than harm.”

“How can you just accept Coronan lies and let them shape the world?” Varian asked bitterly.

“Do you think you’re the first young man I’ve had in my cells angry about the shape of the world?”

Varian said nothing but glared at the cell floor.

The Sheriff knelt at the bars of the cell near him. He gave a small encouraging smile. “Do you know how I know you’re going to be just fine?”

“How?” Varian asked incredulously.

“I once had a young man in this very cell about a decade ago, he had a lot less going for him than you do now. No family, no valuable skills, no apparent future. And the Coronans did right by him in the end. He’s their prince consort now. It’s not a cruel tyrannical system that would let a scoundrel like him be redeemed.”

Varian rolled his eyes. “The only reason Eugene Fitzherbert dodged the hangman’s rope was because his actions helped the king personally. Unless he’s got another missing daughter I can rescue, I won’t get the pardon Eugene did. The king wants me dead or imprisoned forever, or at least however long it pleases the princess.”

"I've decided to ride with the royal guard back to Corona," Quaid told him. "When you stand trial, I will attest to all the good you've done here in Vardaros. It might count for something."

Varian and gave a bitter bark of laughter.

Quaid’s reassuring smile dropped.

“Trial? What on earth makes you think I’ll get a trial?”

“Will you not?”

“No! Why would I? The King is the sole judge anyway! There would be no point!”

“Calm down, young man.”

“The crown controls everything!” he ranted. He knew he sounded like a madman, but he was beyond caring. “They control who’s guilty! They decide what the truth is! They control what can be said! The crown controls who lives and who dies. They even control the black rocks!”

"Calm down," Quaid repeated. "You are becoming overwrought. No one controls the black rocks."

“She did! I saw her!”

“Then you were mistaken.”

“Just—!” Varian stopped and tried again. “The princess can make anything happen. Power can. Think about it: she wanted you to be a hero, so you were risen up. But imagine what would have happened if she had decided you were a villain?”

“Are you saying that’s what happened to you?” Quaid asked him, still looking disturbed by his outburst.

“Yes! Why else would they have broken into my house before I even did anything?! Why did she paint me looking like a dark villain when all I’d done up to that point was plead for her help?!”

Quaid was silent. He considered Varian, as he weighed his words. His expression made it plain that he did not believe him. But he still looked bothered.

“I have… questions for the Captain,” he said after the pause. “I’ll send a carrier bird to Corona directly if need be. But still. Be ready to leave in the early morning.”

Varian didn’t know why he’d let himself hope for anything more.

“But before I go, I will leave you with this.” Quaid passed a charcoal pen and a few sheets of paper through the bars. “You will drive yourself mad if you bitterly fixate on these things out of your control, and what you say has been done to you. I'd encourage you to reflect on what you've done, your own actions, and how they've affected people. And what you can control."

Varian lifted his hands to gesture to the cell around him. “What can I control?” he asked.

“You can always control yourself. Your own actions. There are still things you can do moving forward.”

“Like what?”

"Apologize. Confess. Promise to be better. Plead for your life," Quaid said. "Write your contrition in a letter." He gestured down to the paper. "And when we arrive in Corona, I will personally put it in the hand of Queen Arianna. Everyone says she is the more clement of the two."

That was true… But no. Arianna spoke all kinds of promises back when she was at the disadvantage, only to completely forget them when she was back in control. Not that he really blamed her. But still, he doubted he would get his salvation through her.

It wouldn’t come from anyone else. If he’d learned anything from the last few months since the amber, it was that he had to save himself.

“I promise,” Quaid said interrupting his thoughts.

“Your promises mean nothing!” Varian hissed and turned his back on the bars.

He wished Quaid would just leave him alone.

“I made a promise I couldn’t keep,” Quaid admitted shifting to the side to try to look at his face. “But I can keep this one. If you write the letter, I will deliver it. No matter what happens. Come hell or high water, if you write it, tomorrow I will ride for Corona and deliver it to the Queen and no one else.”

To his credit, he at least sounded earnest. But Varian glanced up at where Hector lay out unconscious and kept his silence.

The man tried to get a response from him a few more times.

“Consider it,” he tried one last time as he stood to leave. “If not for yourself, then for him. I got certain guarantees for you… but someone will have to pay for your escape.”

Varian whirled around and looked up at the man wide-eyed. “They can’t!”

“They will,” Quaid insisted. “If what you say is true, he didn’t have to take you in. He didn’t have to put his neck on the chopping block of the wealthiest and most execution-prone kingdom on the continent. The least you can do is try to plead for mercy, for both of your sakes.”

No. The sheriff didn’t actually care about Hector like that. He made it clear in the conversation with the Captain. This was just a trick. A manipulation. He just wanted a confession he could deliver to the king. A token he could use to curry favor.

And even if Quaid was genuine, Fredrick would simply use his admissions against him and laugh at his pleas.

Varian turned back around but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pen and parchment.

With that, the sheriff turned. His footsteps echoed down the stairs.

He pulled himself in a tighter ball. He let his head nod forward and his eyes slip shut.

——————☽☉☾——————

The bright Noon Sun cut through the thin morning brume.

There were uneven cobblestones under his bare feet and strange people all around him.

Some wore the fine fancy clothes of the Coronan island capital folk.

Some wore the sensible farmers woolens of Old Corona.

Some wore the dusty shabby Vardaros fashions.

But when he tried to look upon any of their faces, they were blurs of grey.

He stood at the center of the courtyard; the tall looming gallows stood over him.

It cast a shadow in the afternoon sunlight.

Something was read out by the black-hooded man.

Hector stepped up onto the platform.

“For high crimes against King Fredrick Der Sonne. The invader will be returned to Eternal Sunshine!”

“No!” Varian wanted to run to him, but his feet wouldn’t move.

The rope was placed around his uncle’s neck.

"Not again, Varian," Hector spoke to him, but it was his father's voice.

“Hector! Go! You’ve gotta escape!”

The rope was tightened so it would not slip.

"Varian, I told you to stay away from those rocks!" Hector scolded him. "There is more to them than you can possibly imagine!”

“What? Please, no!”

Hector closed his eyes.

The lever was pulled.

Hector fell.

Varian heard the platform fall away, the rope went taught, and Hector’s neck broke.

He hung there limp for only a few seconds when something gold and shining materialized at his feet. The familiar crystal amber rose up covering Hector's feet, legs, chest, and head. Until his entire body was encased in the amber.

But it didn’t stop there. The crystal kept growing and growing. The entirety of the gallows was encased. All the people surrounding the structure were also caught up in it. The crystal rushed out toward where he stood but he still couldn’t move.

The cold hard crystal reached him, and he watched as it crept up his body.

It consumed his legs and encased his middle.

He wanted to lift his arms to keep them from being trapped, but it was no use.

It grew tight around his throat, and he shut his mouth to prevent the crystal from getting inside.

It covered his nose and Varian could no longer breathe.

The last thing he saw was the bright sunlight shining through the amber as it completely covered his face and eyes.

——————☽⬤☾——————

In a panic, Varian jolted up from his place on the ground. He rushed to Hector’s side to make sure he was still alright.

He let out a relived breath and slid back down to the ground.

The silence in the cell was suffocating.

The only thing he heard was the trickle of water from the far wall and Hector’s gentle breathing.

The hours stretched on, and the time whittled away at his resolve.

He reached for the pen and began to write.

Hector woke with a fierce pain in his head.

He distantly wondered if he had wandered into the Giant Dream Flower last night and overindulged.

He rubbed at his temples and stared out into the grey murkiness of the room. It was nearly enough to make him roll back over and fall back asleep.

He blinked rapidly as his vision came into focus. The first thing he noticed was the dark prison bars cutting through the faint orange torchlight. He looked down to see he was covered in a fine blue cloak.

The memories came rushing back to him.

He looked to the side and saw some letters scattered on the ground, and Varian scribbling something on the stone walls of the cell with a charcoal pen.

Oh no.

He groaned as he pushed himself up. Varian didn’t look up from his scribblings, too absorbed in his work.

He took the cloak and placed it back over Varian’s shoulders.

He started. Hector was about to apologize when Varian whirled around.

Varian wrapped his arms around him burying his face in his chest. Hector instinctively returned the embrace, though his mind hadn’t quite returned to full alertness.

“You’re okay!” Varian said in relief when he pulled back.

“Who me?” Hector asked. “Sure, kid. I’ve got a hard head.”

No need to mention the persistent waves of pain in his skull, aching bones from cushioning their fall, and the burning cuts from Quaid.

“What about you?” Hector said checking him over for injuries.

"I'm fine," Varian said as he turned to face him fully.

Varian described what had happened while Hector was knocked out. The things their captors had said.

He kept talking, but Hector could only half concentrate. He ran a thumb under the red swollen spot on the side of his nephew’s face.

"Which one of them did this?" he asked softly, cutting off what Varian had been saying.

He ran through the few faces of all the different guards he could recall from the streets. But his memory was still hazy.

“I don’t remember,” Varian shrugged. “But you aren’t listening! This is important.” Varian drew his attention back. His voice was panicked, it sounded empty and miserable like back on the night they first met.

"When they come to get us don't look them in the eye. They take that as a challenge. Answer their questions but don't say too much or they'll think you're lying. Keep your hands visible so they don't think you're hiding things. Speak softly but not so much that they have to lean in to hear you. They hate that."

It was heartbreaking that Varian was trying to spare him some suffering, and how accustomed he was to imprisonment like this.

How much was he failing that Varian felt like he had to protect him? And how much of a failure was he that it had come to this in the first place?

“It won’t come to that. We’re going to get out of here,” he soothed. “It’s far easier to escape fetters out on the open road than iron bars and stone walls.”

“And a dozen swords?” Varian asked skeptically.

“If they don’t catch me off guard again.” He crossed his arms, feeling defensive about the shameful display out on the streets.

"Speaking of which..." Varian's eyes shifted back toward the entrance of the tower. He tapped the top of Hector's gloved hand. "They seemed pretty annoyed that they couldn't find your sword."

Hector gave a small twist of his lips. “If only I could pick a lock with a sword.”

“You’re right of course.” Varian deflated. “There’s nothing we can do here and now.”

“There might be,” he urged him.

Varian shook his head and picked up his charcoal and turned away from him again. “I can’t believe I let myself stop working for even a moment.” He resumed his writing on the wall.

Hector had gained an extremely rudimentary knowledge of alchemy from the introductory manual he bought from the apothecary. He could recognize only a few of the symbols.

Varian was back to trying to break the amber.

With nothing to do and nowhere to go, full of hopelessness, he’d reverted back to his frantic working energy.

"Kid no…" He'd come so far to break the obsessive pattern and to not be eternally burdened by the grief and the hopeless pursuit.

“Wait.”

Varian turned back to him curiously.

"Tell me… tell me what I should expect. If they do manage to get us back to Corona."

It was another lie. Hector had no intention of letting them make it that far. “Will they be decent enough to give me the option of a trial by combat?”

"That's not a practice in Corona," Varian informed him.

“How barbaric,” Hector huffed.

Varian cracked a smile at that before his expression crumpled again.

“If they get you back to Corona, I think they’ll hang you straight away. Assuming they don’t arrange an accident for you on the road.”

“Why do you say that? I’d think a kingdom so keen on public execution, would also embrace the pageantry of a public trial.”

“That’s the problem,” Varian said. “All trials in Corona are public. The king is the sole judge but both parties give testimony. And that testimony is a matter of public record. Anyone from far and wide can come and listen.”

“And they would,” Hector added. “The trial of the ‘Dark Wizard of Old Corona’ would be the event of the season.”

"Did the tales really travel that far?"

“’Fraid so,” Hector said sympathetically. “They’d even reached me on the other side of the continent.”

Varian's shoulders fell at that. "I think Fredrick didn't want people to hear me telling everyone how he lied to everyone or stole the Sundrop and caused the black rocks to spread. And he certainly didn't want anyone to know that Rapunzel was in control of the black rocks. That's also why they wanted to steal dad's scroll so badly. Steal the evidence."

"I see," Hector said. "It'd be the same for me, then."

“Except, unlike me. The princess didn’t make any pleas for your life.” Varian reminded him, trying to make Hector appreciate the seriousness of the situation.

"I don't need a princess's promises," Hector reassured him.

“You don’t understand!” Varian was getting upset. “They’ll fetter us hand and foot. They’ll lock us in a prison cart for days and when we get back to Corona you’ll die!”

"I won't die," Hector promised him.

"Even if that were true," Varian argued. "It's terrible! I thought I was going to lose my mind in there. I was so close to going along with whatever terrible scheme Andrew was cooking up!"

He didn’t want him to go back to giving up, so he prompted further. “Tell me about it.”

"I missed everything." He drew in close to himself. "I missed my gloves and goggles; I missed my boots. I missed my real clothes, I missed real food, and not feeling hungry all the time. I missed Ruddiger, I missed my home. I missed feeling healthy, I missed the sun, I missed my Dad—" Varian broke off when he realized what he'd said.

"Don't worry," Hector said quickly before Varian had a chance to dwell on that. "I’m not going let them take you back there. I won't let them hurt you."

Varian looked thoroughly unconvinced.

Hector wished there was some kind of oath he could say to put Varian’s heart at ease. But no. An oath was just a promise with fancier words, after all.

They heard the door at the bottom of the stairs swing open and slam shut.

Hector and Varian both jumped at the sound. He pulled Varian to his side and drew his sword.

“Who’s there?!” He called out, but no one climbed the stairs.

The silence stretched on in the tower cell, but no one made themselves known.

"Perhaps someone stuck their head in?" Hector said as he slowly relaxed, released Varian, and retracted the sword.

“It could have been the sheriff?” Varian seemed confused. “He was the last one to leave the room. Though I don’t think he would have lingered at the bottom of the stairs for so long.”

Maybe he was waiting to hear them incriminate themselves? Or perhaps he wanted confirmation that Hector would not hurt Varian? Hector did not have a good enough measure of the man to know.

He turned back to Varian, looking bone-tired and miserable. “Have you slept?”

Varian shook his head. “I figured one of us should stay awake just in case.”

"Good thinking, as usual," Hector said as he vacated the bench. "Go ahead. I'm awake now."

“Are you sure?” Varian asked.

“Yes. Go on.” Hector sat on the stone floor.

Varian nodded and curled up on the bench under his cloak.

He stared off into space. Hector could tell his mind was still racing.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get out of here?” he asked hoping to distract him.

“I want to hug Ruddiger. Get warm again. Maybe sleep under the stars. What about you?”

“I want to get far away from this crowded city, back into the forest. Though I’m also itching to pay back the Sheriff and Coronas.”

“I think we’d be better served to come up with a plan.” Varian almost sounded reproachful. “Think of a trick or a ploy instead of just forcing our way out.”

“Perhaps,” Hector allowed.

"I tell you what. If we got out of here. You really should teach me how to use one of those daggers." He gave a thin smile.

That again? Hector frowned. This poor kid can’t even rely on him for safety.

“That’s okay. I can do it,” he reassured him. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I will do better.”

Varian looked like he wanted to argue. But he would let it go eventually. Hector would just have to do better. Varian didn’t believe in cheap words. Only getting them out would prove that he could be relied on.

“Oh, come on, uncle Hector. I should learn something of the family business,” Varian said, turning to him to give him a pleading look.

Hector was torn. Varian's big pleading eyes were more dangerous than that incredible alchemist's fire of his. And it was only natural for a young man to reach for steel when brought so low.

But a person in a noble profession like an alchemist should not lower themself to swordplay. And it seemed viscerally wrong to try to make a warrior out of a child. His brother's son no less.

But the road ahead would be dangerous…

“Maybe we’ll get you a bow. A small one. Easy to draw. Until you get stronger.”

Varian yawned. But still gave a small victorious smile.

“I’ll tip my arrows with glass heads full of potions… and fletch them with glowing feathers,” he said in the dreamy voice he used when he was drifting off.

Hector was glad to hear it.

“That would be quite the sight,” he responded in low tones.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Varian was snoring softly.

Hector was grateful he could at least escape into his dreams.

He peeled back a part of his glove and examined the mechanism of his sword gauntlet. Not for the first time he thanked the Stars and Moon for the incompetence of Coronan security.

Varian was right about one thing: he needed a plan.

 He tried to think patient and clever like Varian. To make a plot or a trick. He had a few fragments of different plans circling around in his mind when he heard the sounds of movement.

Varian whimpered from where he lay on the cot. Hector’s first thought was that Varian had been concealing an injury before he realized it was a nightmare.

Varian’s face tightened. He curled up smaller and suddenly turned over, eyes screwed shut.

He muttered something sounding pained and distressed. Hector knelt before the cot.

Hector reached forward then hesitated. What was the common wisdom for being woken from a nightmare? He did not recall. He had not had them since he was a boy.

He had always been relieved to be rescued from the dark visions but ashamed to be discovered in need of rescue.

Hector gently nudged Varian’s shoulder.

“Varian? Varian?” he spoke softly, mindful of the guard posted at the door.

Varian gasped.

“No!” he cried out and shot up.

There was a flash of something, as Varian moved.

Hector felt a sharp sting across his bicep.

He blinked in shock as a line of scarlet emerged and blood welled up.

He quickly turned away and covered it with his hand.

The blood was hot, and the pain would have made him cry out if he had not deliberately clenched his teeth together.

He swallowed hard.

He squeezed the wound and thought hard on the pain and tried to push it away.

It was just pain.

Just a sensation.

His mind could overcome it.

He turned his neck to look back to Varian as he kept the rest of his body angled away.

He saw Varian’s sallow face, his panicked expression flickered to realization then regret.

He had a broken glass test tube in his hand, the sharp jagged end of it was stained in scarlet.

Varian dropped it and covered his mouth with his hands.

“Did I—? Are you—?” Varian choked out.

Hector angled himself further away from Varian and pulled back his hand to examine the cut.

A few inches long. Bleeding. But not deep enough to need stitches, by his estimation.

He swallowed again.

“Very sneaky with the glassware, kid.” He plastered on a smile. “Aim was a bit off, though. And try to save it for a Coronan next time. Yeah?”

“Hector!” Varian still sounded upset.

Hector shushed him, sending a meaningful look toward the door.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to!”

"Hey, hey," he cut him off. "I get it. I remember well what it's like to be brought back to the world of the waking while your mind is still under the veil of a dream. I’ve done far worse in such a state.”

Varian didn’t look like he was listening. He reached for the ruffles about the cuffs and collar of the blouse he’d given by Stalyan. He ripped away the seams of the excessive fabric.

He held out the bundle of fabric. “Please. Cover the wound so I can wrap it.”

"Aw," Hector said disappointed. "You looked like a little magistrate in that." He kept his tone light, as he accepted the fabric. He covered the slash and wound it around a few times.

Varian protested and Hector did as he asked. Varian finished wrapping up his arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” Varian said as he tied off the makeshift bandage.

“I know you didn’t,” Hector assured him. He gently removed the bloody broken test tube. “Your mind was probably back then. The last time you were locked up and I loomed over you with dark intent. It’s only natural.”

Varian shook his head. “No, it wasn’t you. It wasn’t the dungeons. I was just confused.”

He still sounded like he was on the verge of a meltdown.

“Breathe with me,” Hector said. He took his hands in his own and led Varian through the slow breathing he used to do with his siblings on the eve of battle to steel their nerves.

“Envision the Moon filling with light and fill your lungs… hold the vision of the Full Moon in your mind for another count to four... then release your breath as the Moon wanes... hold again on the New Moon for another count to four. Then again…”

When they were done, Varian gave a small, crooked smile. “Dad used to do that… when I was younger.”

“Of course, he did,” Hector said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that man sang you battle hymns and called them lullabies.”

Varian’s smile widened at the thought.

“Now, tell me about your dreams.”

"It… It wasn't the dungeons. Not really. It was before that." Varian pulled up his knees and curled up on the wood cot. “Before I broke any laws, before I crossed the line. The king knew that I knew about the Sundrop, and I had Dad's piece of the scroll. He sent the royal guard to my home."

"He what?" Hector heard the disbelief in his voice.

He had not heard that version of events before.

He’d thought Varian entrapped Quirin, broke into the vault, then kidnapped the Queen, and the guards had come afterward. He tried to recall exactly what the guards in the ramshackle tavern had told him all those weeks ago.

Varian nodded. “The other villagers had all evacuated Old Corona by that point. I begged them all for help. And most of the people in the Capital too. But anyway. They came in the early morning. I had fallen asleep at the base of the amber. I stayed up late into the night, trying to find a solution, working as hard as I could.”

He glanced up at Hector like he didn't think he would believe him.

“Then a dozen or so armed men broke into my home, I didn’t even really know what was going on for a few days… They were all wearing masks. I actually thought they were bandits for a little while. They were willing to do anything to get the scroll for the king.”

Hector wanted him to explain what he’d meant by ‘anything’, but Varian pressed on.

“I fled from home. I hid down in those tunnels you saw back then and stayed there for a few days. Eventually, I was able to send word to the princess to plead for her help for the second time…”

“So, that first night? When you attacked her? What exactly happened?”

Varian looked at him dully. He uncurled himself from the small ball and dragged himself up from the cot. He took a few swaying steps until he stood right before him.

Hector raised a brow.

Varian reached up and firmly grabbed hold of both of his arms and held on.

“What are you doing?” Hector asked.

“This,” Varian said, keeping his hands in place. “This was what I did. I guess I yelled too. They called it an attack.”

Hector’s eyes widened as he looked down again at where Varian held him. Even if the small boy had been gripping him with twice the strength, he wouldn’t call it an attack! What a joke!

“But. Yeah,” Varian dropped his hands and returned to his cot. “That’s what I was dreaming about. Back then, waking up somewhere I thought was safe, only to get hurt. Sorry. It wasn’t you! My mind was making me think it was the Captain.”

“I see,” Hector heard his voice say distantly. “I did not realize Corona had drawn first blood.”

Varian gave a sad broken chuckle. “We really do suck at communicating, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“I also didn’t intend to take over the kingdom either. And kidnapping Queen Arianna was only to force Rapunzel to free Dad,” He said it almost offhandedly. As if it ought to have gone without saying.

That was also news to Hector.

“Really?”

“Yes of course.” Varian looked at him like he had gone mad. “Did you really think I…” he trailed off.

“I did not know.”

“What? You thought I’d actually attacked the princess during the storm, staged a coup, and kidnapped the queen out of malice? And you still wanted to take care of me?”

Hector looked him dead in the eyes. “Yes.”

“But... That would be… I’d be wrong.”

Hector's gaze did not waver. "Nearly anybody will side with you when you are in the right. It's my duty to side with you even when you are in the wrong."

With this revelation, Hector had found his resolve.

“I—” Varian started.

“Can you do something for me?” Hector half turned away. He tore away the bandages on his bicep.

“Take a look at this.” He turned back around and flexed his arm. Fresh blood streamed forward from the cut and ran down the length of Hector’s bicep to his elbow.

He watched as Varian swayed and blinked rapidly, before his eyes rolled back in his head.

He collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.

Hector moved quickly to catch Varian before he fell off the cot. He carefully cradled his head in his hand and examined him closely to make sure he was indeed out cold. When he was confident that he was, Hector carefully placed Varian down on the floor of the cell.

There was a time when Hector had thought the Coronans were simply doing their jobs. Albeit misguided and unjust, they were just acting in defense of their home.

But things were different now.

They drew first blood.

They took his nephew’s home and safety away from him after he was freshly orphaned.

They attacked him without cause.

He had no doubt that they would kill him if given half a chance.

He briefly recalled Varian sobbing in despair clinging to the pillar of amber. Bil was snarling by the door while Hector loomed over him.

He shook his head. The task at hand.

His precious nephew would not survive this imprisonment.

This was no longer just another obstacle on their journey: It was a matter of life and death.

He couldn’t patiently wait for an opportunity to escape. They needed to escape now.

Hector took the blood-covered remains of the half test tube and crushed the glass under his foot loudly. He cursed at the top of his voice and banged his fist down on the wooden cot.

Naturally, the guard was alerted.

The door swung open and slammed shut. And footsteps rushed up the staircase. The Coronan guard rushed up to the bars.

Hector stood over Varian continuing to shout curses. At this point, he didn’t need to fake the anger.

“Stop! What under the Sun is going on here?!” the guard demanded.

“Little brat stabbed me with a piece of glass!” he shouted at the guard. “Get me out of here! I need medical attention!”

“What about the wizard?” the guard asked suspiciously, taking in the sight of the cell.

“I knocked him out, of course!” Hector took a step aside so the guard could see Varian laid out on the floor. He turned to show the guard all the blood and put a hand over it as if to try to stop the bleeding.

“Get me out of here! You can’t keep me in here with this little lunatic!”

The guard still seemed suspicious. But his look also grew concerned as he took in the scene and the blood on Hector’s arm.

"You didn't seem like you wanted to be separated earlier," the guard said, but his hand had already fallen to the key ring on his belt.

“Sure, didn’t wanna lose track of my meal ticket. But no bounty is worth this.” Hector nodded down to his wound.

“This is Vardaros. The other cells are full.” The guard looked indecisive. “But. There’s a patch kit in the front. I’ll fetch it.”

Hector cursed.

When the man returned, Hector held out a hand. “Here, pass it through.”

The guard hesitated again.

“No,” he seemed like he was coming to a decision reluctantly. “I’ll patch you up. Don’t need anything in the kit going missing or being used in a potion or contraption.”

Hector rolled his eyes. “Fine by me.”

“Fasten your uninjured wrist to the manacle on the wall,” the guard ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m not getting jumped as soon as I unlock the cell. There’s a pair of manacles affixed to the wall at the back of your cell. Put one on the uninjured arm. Then I’ll open the cell.”

Hector huffed, and rolled his eyes, but moved to follow the command.

“Wait. Do him first,” the guard ordered.

Hector froze.

“He’s out cold.” He still had his back to the guard.

“I can’t know that for sure.” the guard sneered.

"I hit him pretty hard," Hector said clenching his fists.

“Sure, sure. I enter the cell then he jumps up and stabs me in the back while I’m fixing you. I won’t fall for it.”

Hector snorted. “If we were going to run a scam like that, do you really think I’d be the one playing bait?”

The guard scoffed. “What I think is you aren’t even half the monster that kid is. I’m not getting any closer until he’s chained up.”

Hector’s heart dropped.

He looked down to where Varian lay on the ground. His long lashes were still, his mouth was slightly ajar, and his chest was rising and falling, slow and steady with his gentle breathing. He was the picture of peace. Hector thought back to him sleeping fitfully plagued by nightmares only a little while ago.

Hector felt sick to his stomach as he bent down and took the boy up by one of his bony wrists and dragged him across the cell floor. He lifted him and fastened the manacle. He hoped the guard did not see his hands trembling in rage. The teen was slumped over boneless. His head fell forward to his chest, hair covering his face.

“Satisfied?” Hector tore his eyes away and looked back at the guard at the bars.

“Now yourself,” the man ordered. But he looked far more at ease now that Varian was restrained. Fool.

Hector did as he was ordered. He locked himself up and yanked on the chain to show the guard it was secure.

He let more chain from his side run through the metal hoop, so Varian had all the slack on his side. The boy’s body lowered but he wasn’t quite seated on the ground. He was still mostly suspended by one wrist. If Varian ended up with a dislocated shoulder because of this cowardly piece of filth Hector was going to do the same thing to both of the guard’s shoulders, then string him up by them before he—

“Pretty generous of you.” the guard commented on the chain arrangement as he opened the cell door.

“If you’re not going to let me change cells, I don’t want to hear the kid sniffling about a sore shoulder.”

Maintaining the nonchalant façade was getting harder and harder.

The man entered the cell.

That’s right. A little closer.

“Yeah, yeah,” The guard said as he fastened the keys to his belt and opened the patch kit. “He’ll probably be whining more about the bump to the head you gave him. Nice work, by the way.”

Hector managed an affirmative grunt.

A little more.

“Let me see.” The guard placed the open kit on the cot and held out a hand to inspect the wound.

Closer.

The guard gripped his forearm and looked over the wound. “Little bastard really got you good, huh?”

There!

In one fluid move, Hector ripped his arm out of the man’s grip and reached forward. He grabbed the top of his chest plate.

“H-hey now, don’t do anything—HRK!”

Hector engaged the switch on his gauntlet and his blade sprang forth cutting a clean swath through the Coronan’s neck.

Blood cascaded down the man’s shining golden armor. Blood mixed with his last breaths violently fell from his lips in a spluttering cough. His hands shot up to the wound and where Hector gripped him. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground, blood-soaked hands weakly grasped at Hector’s clothes as he fell. The man took more huge wheezing breaths through his severed windpipe before he went still and finally fell silent.

 Hector said a quick prayer to the Moon before he got back to work.

He had to pull all the chains to his side to reach the ring of keys on the guard's belt. It took several tries, but he was eventually able to get the right key and unfasten the manacles. Hector gently lowered Varian to the ground.

He had to hunt down the key to the cell as well. He had hoped the guard would have forgotten to lock the cell behind him. But that went beyond even Coronan incompetence.

Hector took a few steps out of the tower cell to look around the dimly lit hallway. No guards or sheriffs in sight, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t notice their friend’s absence. Hector returned to the cell.

He took in the gruesome sight of the felled man. The blood pooled on the ground. It barely touched the corner of the small stack of letters on the ground.

He knelt down and yanked the golden sun off the front of the Coronan’s helmet. He wished he wasn’t the kind of man who felt pride and satisfaction as he pocketed it.

He tried to wipe away as much of the blood from his hands and arms as he could.

He then carefully scooped up Varian and carried him out of the tower cell.

Hector collected another four golden suns that day.

He caught a half-dozen Coronans gathered around an old wooden table in the small break room. Most had doffed their armor and helms as they ate and played cards together. Hector tucked Varian away around the corner of the hall. He made quick work of the men, now that he was the one with the element of surprise.

Hector recovered their belongings locked away in Quaid’s office. All of Varian’s potions seemed to be together and intact in his bag and bandolier.

Hector’s hands lingered on the amazing green potion. ‘Linoleum’ was it?

He was sorely tempted to burn the whole place down behind them but decided against it in the end. He did not know who else was in the building after all.

He was in sight of the exit door when slow heavy steps sounded in the room and sheriff Quaid stepped out of the shadows to stand between them and the door.

Hector tensed up, ready for a fight.

He wished he’d tucked Varian away somewhere. He wondered if the sheriff would be decent enough to let him put him down before they crossed blades.

The man reached for his belt and Hector quickly raised his sword. But it wasn’t a blade in Quaid’s hand.

He took a long draw from a tarnished iron hipflask. He didn’t look the slightest bit concerned by Hector or anything going on around him.

He swallowed hard and sighed.

“I should stop you,” Quaid said.

“You’d die trying,” Hector shot back automatically.

He frowned. The side of his face was swollen and bruised. Hector remembered being furious with him before. Standing between them and their clean escape. He’d thought he looked swift and dangerous then.

He just looked tired and old now.

Did I really hit him that hard?

“You’re not making this any easier when you say things like that.” the Sheriff said annoyed.

“Make what easier?” he asked suspiciously.

Quaid unlocked the front door and took a step aside.

Hector took a step back in shock.

“What are you doing?”

“Officially?” Quaid sounded tired. “I’m currently being overpowered and knocked out. Helpless to stop your escape.”

“What about the Coronans?”

“They’ll probably be after you by the morning. Best get a move on.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Was there an ambush waiting for them out there?

“I spoke to the Captain.”

“What did he say?”

Quaid’s gaze dropped and his eyes narrowed. “Something deeply out of line.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me he was concerned for our security… Said he wouldn’t be surprised if the boy didn’t make it back to Corona, because of how bad Vardaros is. Said he wouldn’t be surprised if the savage accomplice killed him in the night to protect his secrets. He said it would be a dreadful thing. But that it would be better for his Kingdom, his people, and his daughter if it were so…” the Sheriff’s face twisted in disgust. “Then he handed me a sack of silver."

Hector nearly dropped Varian.

“Many think because Vardaros is wild and free that we’ll do just about anything here,” he shook his head in frustration. “But I think this terrible seedy outlaw town has had enough chivalry from good Kingsmen.”

“And…” Hector’s eyes narrowed. “Where is the good Kingsman now?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.” he shook his head again. “You’re going to leave town.”

“That I am,” Hector agreed. “But I think I’ll take that man’s life first, or at least a hand.”

There was a sword in the sheriff’s hand, nearly quicker than Hector could track. “Coronan, Equisian, or whatever you are, it makes no difference. This is my town! And you will leave now!” he shouted.

Hector usually stubbornly bristled at a shouted command. But instead, he remembered black armor and a flowing red cloak, and a brother giving commands he always trusted.

They watched each other tense. Like wolves circling and snapping before a proper fight.

The Sheriff wanted to arrest him for all he’d done, but he wanted them gone even more.

And Hector wanted the Coronans, but he wanted to get Varian out even more.

Both men’s senses of justice would have them fight here and now.

Instead, Hector looked down at Varian. He remembered the vows he’d made and gave a nod.

He took Varian out of the building without another word spoken between the two men.

His only act of defiance was when he snatched up a Coronan crossbow on his way out. It was no Selenese war bow, but it might do for now.

He supposed he’d saved Varian, but it still felt like a humiliating defeat.

He marched down the crooked cobblestones in his cowardly retreat.

The footpads and cutthroats shied away from him in the night. He imagined he’d looked like a lunatic; expression furious covered in blood, carrying a child.

Or… perhaps they did not have the heart to trouble someone who appeared to be in such a desperate state?

He’d been forced to rapidly reevaluate the people of Vardaros this night.

He looked up into the sky. The stars were out, guiding his way as always, and they were almost due for a New Moon.

Good. A fresh start would be so welcome.

Varian was slow to wake. He expected to see the damp stone ceiling of the tower cell.

Instead, he saw a sky full of stars and the small silver slip of a waning crescent moon.

Was he dizzy? The world seemed to be rocking back and forth.

No, wait.

They were moving.

They were on board Ruddiger!

He sat up quickly and Hector had to steady him.

He caught sight of Nótt, Hjúki, and Bil following behind them in the darkness.

But how? How did that happen?

They were traveling down a well-trodden dirt road and there was no town in sight.

“What happened?” Varian asked in a raspy voice.

Through the dark, he could see Hector looking tired and ragged. He could tell he had been fighting. He wanted to ask about his arm and a million other things.

“Here.” Hector handed him a canteen and a piece of paper.

Varian drank deeply, then found one of his glowing lights. He shook the test tube and a soft blue light pushed back the darkness.

Hector blinked rapidly in discomfort at the sudden glow.

It was a letter.

Varian had to squint to make out the looping handwriting:

Hey Kid,

I’m seriously mad at my dad for putting me in a situation where I gotta write an apology letter!

It might not mean much to you, but I’m going to stay in Vardaros to take my city back from the Coronan Cronies once and for all. Even if I have to supplant my dad to do it.

I know you’ve had a lot of experiences with betrayal and that’s not exactly easy to deal with...

But the gold will help.

Safe Travels,

Stalyan Future Baroness of the Free City State of Vardaros

“And that’s not all. Our belongings were intact. And what’s more...”

Hector shifted a sack in the back of the saddle and Varian heard the slide of coins.

“The payment?” Varian blinked in disbelief.

Hector nodded. “I might not understand that woman, but she did seem to have a twisted sense of honor.”

Varian looked through the bags to see it was all there. The gold, their stuff, the gifts, all of it!

"I had just left the city, whistling for Nótt, when all four of them came bounding over. Ruddiger was transformed and saddled up with everything in the saddle bag. The note was tucked into the top of the bag."

“Hector?”

“Hm?”

“We’re rich!” he said, his excitement warring against his fatigue.

Hector chuckled. “That we are. Too bad there is nearly nowhere to spend it between here and Koto. But never mind that. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. Tired, I guess?”

“Go back to sleep. I can see the way. I’ll get us away from here.”

The next day, they traveled far and fast.

But they camped at night as they had on the road to Vardaros. Though they were only strangers then.

By morning, Varian gathered his things for another hard day’s ride. He carefully cushioned the temperamental and volatile alchemical creations.

Hector seemed to watch him out of the corner of his eye. It made him nervous.

“That green potion of yours. What is it?”

“Oh, you know…” Varian hesitated. "I initially conceived of it as a naphtha and quicklime concoction," he fiddled with the vial. "But eventually I developed it into an amalgamation of sulfur, petroleum, bitumen, ashes, and pyrite. Its texture is fortified with a coprecipitation of two rare metal salts. It's hydro-reactive. But if I mishandle the process, it can also be pyrophoric."

Hector blinked slowly.

“Haha, yeah, it’s boring stuff...” Varian turned away.

“Varian. That’s circumlocution.” Hector did not sound impressed.

It was Varian’s turn to blink. “What does that mean?”

“You use big words and lots of them to dance around the point,” he explained. “You are used to people ignoring you or silencing you when you talk about your craft. So, if you don’t want to talk about something you’ll talk like that to be confusing and evasive.”

Was that what he was doing? He had not even realized.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, would you mind showing me?” he asked coaxing.

Varian sighed. “Alright.”

Varian didn’t have the best relationships with explosives. At best they were something he had a reluctant affinity for. At worst, he had messed up so much in his years of experimenting that he had inadvertently become accustomed to the resulting blow-ups.

When he has used his unstable Flynnolium compound to blow up the door and break out of the basement laboratory in the Baron’s manor. He hadn’t thought much of it.

If anything, the other alchemical weapons he had used were far more impressive.

Varian found a clearing with plenty of room that was far enough off from the road. His hands were shaking as he held the vial of Flynnolium. He stood up straight and stiff. He wanted to seem as in-control and competent as possible.

“Ready?” Varian asked stiffly.

“Go ahead,” Hector answered with a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile.

Varian took a deep breath and tossed the vial toward the center of the clearing, a safe distance from where the pair stood.

The resulting explosion was loud and blinding. The flames rose up high in the air, over the tops of the trees, as the ground shook beneath their feet.

Varian’s mind was taken back to that day when his hot water experiment had nearly destroyed his entire village.

He remembered the panic when things started getting out of control. He remembered the white-hot shame when he saw how disappointed in him his father was, having messed up yet again. He remembered the scorn from his fellow villagers.

Would Hector react like Dad did? Would Hector scold him for what he made? The silent disappointment hanging over their interactions. Keeping him around only out of obligation?

He supposed it would be for the best. Varian often found himself getting carried away by ideas that excited him. He supposed he needed someone to tell him ‘no’ and force him to play it safe. Just look at how out of control everything got once his dad was no longer there to rein him in.

He could live with that. He could even live with it if Hector had a similar reaction to Cassandra: exasperation and annoyance.

What he couldn’t live with was if he reacted like Eugene did.

He would never forget how his childhood hero reacted. Or at least the man he thought he was at the time?

Eugene Fitzherbert had completely written him off on that day. After that, he reacted with dread upon seeing him again and was instantly suspicious of Varian.

Varian had no idea what he would do if he turned his head and saw the same look of disgust in Hector. Would this make the man realize that Varian was more trouble than he was worth? Would he realize that Varian was a magnet for disaster, someone only gifted with destruction and mayhem?

Varian eventually forced himself to look up at Hector fearfully.

Hector was staring into the fire, entranced. He dragged his eyes away from the pillar of green flames and down to his nephew.

His eyes were wide with excitement and an enormous grin had broken out over his face.

“Can you make a bigger one?”

Varian found himself smiling in return.

Chapter Text

They rode through a beautiful mild forest.

Autumn had painted the trees in oranges and reds, some were even a golden yellow. The temperature made the air crisp and fresh. Varian could see his breath cloud as he sighed at the sight.

The bleak dark shadows of the Forest of No Return loomed in the distance ahead of them. But for now, he could enjoy the sights and sounds of his immediate surroundings. The air was crisp and cool, but the Sun was still shining. It made him want to shuck his cloak and gloves. But he refrained.

Varian preferred the city, but the open road also had its charms. Especially now that he was healthy and strong and in the right mind to appreciate it.

They rode hard all day long. They only stopped when they started to lose the light.

Hector pulled down their luggage and Ruddiger transformed.

Ruddiger, Bil, and Hjúki stood at the ready.

Hector gave a long high whistle and all three animals raced off into the woods.

Hector took off Nótt's saddle and the rhinoceros rolled around on the ground in relief.

The two humans got to work in their usual camp routine.

Varian got the tent set up. It was a large one. Tall enough for Hector to stand up straight inside. Nótt helped him set down the stakes and cords. The big animal was too large to fit inside the tent with the rest of them. The gentle giant always slept outside. Hector assured Varian that was what the rhino was used to. But he did still catch Nótt looking inside the open tent flaps longingly a few times.

Hector got a fire going, fetched water, and got it boiling for drinking and washing.

Varian was unpacking their luggage when the bearcats and Ruddiger returned. Hjúki caught a hare, and Bil caught two. Ruddiger found a large dirty root vegetable of some kind. After they washed it off, it turned out to be a wild onion!

Hector cleaned and prepared the hares.

Varian stayed far away from that process. He didn't leave the tent until he smelled the meat cooking.

Hector made a mean rabbit stew he’d discovered. They would eat well tonight.

The camping routine was familiar.

Varian remembered once being frightened of Hector abandoning him on the side of the road.

Now he instinctively reached for him when they encountered dangers.

Varian remembered setting his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the fire from him at night.

Now he, Hector, Ruddiger, and the bearcats all slept in a big pile in the tent. With all their sleeping stuff and even the quilt he'd brought from home.

Before they'd made do with cold sparse meals so as not to overwhelm Varian's system.

Now they ate a hot meal every night and snacked throughout the day. Hector favored hunting and foraging. But also made generous use of their rations from Vardaros.

Varian remembered being scared Hector resented providing for him.

But now, whenever they came upon some new berry or wild spice, Hector would encourage Varian to try them. And man was a taskmaster about making Varian take the medicine from the Apothecary.

They sat back full and happy after dinner, letting the fire die down.

In these times Hector would tell him stories about his dad, or life in The Dark Kingdom before the fall.

Some nights, he spent hours teaching him constellations. Ones with stories and with important navigation purposes. He seemed to like talking about the stars almost as much as his homeland.

Some nights were full of laughter and fond memories. But on some nights, the stories were sad and Hector was solemn.

It was in these weeks, Varian felt himself get back to nearly full strength. Vardaros had been good for his health to be sure. But the consistent rest and good meals made him stronger every day. The bruises and cuts from Vardaros had faded away. But the dark spot on his ribs from the Captain's kick lingered.

Hector examined it and determined the ribs were not broken but the bruise was deep.

He'd promised he'd give Varian the Captain's sword hand one day. But Varian told him he'd rather just never see the man ever again.

The weather was chilly in the evenings. He was grateful for his new cloak and boots to keep off the cold.

They had purchased some light traveling furniture, including a small fold-out table. Varian would use it to mix chemicals and write his calculations.

Sometimes they used it to play cards.

Hector told him gambling wasn't exactly considered virtuous behavior in Selene but was widely practiced. He taught him all sorts of different games. He even promised to teach him to dice someday, once he bought or made a set.

Varian also spent time on his alchemical projects. With the wide-open spaces of the wilds, he could experiment and play around with new ideas. More so than he could in the small rooms in the crowded city.

Varian had thought the female bearcat, Bil, was a lazy creature. She always snoozed away on Nótt's back in the day, while her brother Hjúki scouted ahead. Until Hector explained why.

"She's our night eyes," he'd hold him. "The nocturnal watch."

Hjúki was their lookout in the day and Bil at night. When darkness fell, she circled the campsite keeping a lookout.

Varian nearly jumped out of his skin one night when he stepped out of the tent to make water. Only to see a set of reflective eyes staring out at him from the darkness. One night he'd even woken to see her chasing off a pack of slayer wolves.

Varian slept better than he did on the road to Vardaros. One night, he woke up soaked in sweat from a dream about his dad's pained face, frozen behind an unbreakable wall of amber.

He screamed in pain.

He begged Varian to get him out.

He pleaded with him not to forget him.

Varian opened his eyes with a gasp.

He felt a hand gently rubbing small circles on his back and a low shushing sound.

Varian pretended he had not woken.

He went still and tried to swallow down the lump forming in his throat. He forced his breathing to even out.

He felt his muscles relax and his eyes droop. Eventually, he drifted back to sleep.

The next day, neither of them said a word about it.

Hector showed him their map over breakfast.

"We'll go through the Forest of No Return. Follow the river to Koto, then down past the Ingvarri Mountain Range. Through the southern part of Lumbard's Pass. Then it's a straight path north towards the Great Tree," he said pushing the map towards Varian. "I reckon the Coronans will still think we mean to travel through Equis. Since there's no love lost between Fredrick and Trevor. Then Pittsford."

Varian nodded relieved.

"We could skip the forest if you want," Hector offered.

"No way," Varian said. "I can't miss the opportunity to collect all those rare potion ingredients. And I know you want to see all the strange beasts."

"Alright," Hector agreed as he traced their route on the map.

Varian smiled "That'll be three new countries for me!"

Hector looked pensive for a moment.

"Of course, it is my sacred duty to return to my post at the Great Tree to stand guard over the Realms of Darkness. That is my priority," he said solemnly.

"But…" he added softer as he dropped his gaze and rolled up the map. "I would show you something of the world if I can. We can pass through the carved Canyons of Koto, the great ice formations of Kresten Loch, the bustling cities of Ingvarr, and the grand rock formations of Lumbard's Pass."

"Road trip!" Varian cheered and pumped his fists. "Hector and Varian seeing the world!"

Hector laughed, but Varian's words caught up to him.

He once thought a trip to the castle with his dad was a road trip. He never got the chance to take a real road trip with him. He wished he could have come on this adventure with them. Varian felt his heart ache at the thought.

He should write down everything he sees, to tell his dad all about it one day.

The next morning, they rode into the shadow of the Forest of No Return.

Varian's mouth fell open in shock as they came upon it. He had never seen a forest so thick and tall and full of darkness. It seemed like the shadows were especially thick in these woods. Like they clung to the trees in an unnatural way. It gave the forest an eerie gloom.

He looked inside of it as they approached, he could not help but feel like there was something staring back at him from the gloom that did not love him.

If Hector felt any trepidation, he did not show it.

"I'd like to see a Drexis," he announced, snapping Varian out of his anxious thoughts. "All manner of ‘monsters’ in these woods. I've heard there are also giant Slayerwolves, Hoopsnakes, Kurlocs, and Hodags."

Varian looked at the sleepy Bil, the vigilant Hjúki, and the steadfast Nótt. It made sense. Hector seemed to like all manner of exotic beasts. He'd even liked Stalyan's poisonous spiders.

"Few have ever crossed it successfully," Hector said in a voice that verged on excitement. "Adira boasted about doing it once when we were growing up. Over a five-day trek. I mean to do it in half that time."

"You think that's possible?" Varian asked, eyeing the trees.

"Sure! There are haunted woods in Selene too. None so large, but full of monsters and ghosts all the same."

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Varian said automatically.

"Sure, there are," Hector laughed. "One day, I'll introduce you to some."

He gave a small kick to Nótt's side and rode on.

Varian made a face as he did the same with Ruddiger and followed along.

"You mean that metaphorically, right?" called after. "Wait, Hector! Right?"

They arrived at the foot of the woods at the thickest path that led into the forest. They saw a long and wide stream of green boggy water.

A little further, and Varian blinked in shock. One of the enormous giant trees was cleaved clean in half. It had fallen across the stream in a makeshift bridge.

"Sunshine scorch me!" Varian said staring at the fallen tree.

He spoke at the same time that Hector said: "Darkness blind me!"

Varian looked up at his guardian in amusement.

Hector beamed wide and put a hand on Varian's shoulder and pulled him into a loose embrace at his side.

"And to think I once thought you wouldn't have the temperament for the Dark Kingdom," he laughed. "But to hear you spit out oaths like a man of the salt."

He tussled Varian's hair and started forward.

"And to think I thought you'd chastise me like a good guardian," Varian shot back.

"Never," Hector said with mock offense.

They rode across the tree with ease.

When they made it to the other side, Hector crossed his arms and kicked at the stump. "This was probably your aunt's handiwork," he sounded reluctant to admit it.

Varian was too busy counting the rings of the tree.

"Four thousand one hundred twenty-three, four thousand one hundred twenty-four, four thousand one hundred twenty-five... This tree was four thousand one hundred twenty-six years old when cut down."

"Impressive..." Hector seemed to forget his old quarrels and came over to see.

Varian moved on to the bog. He wondered what chemical properties the strange water possessed. He'd heard swamp water could sometimes glow with bioluminescence. He knelt in the squishy earth beside the stream and took a sample of the strange green water.

Suddenly, a long slimy tendril burst from the murky green and wrapped around his wrist.

Varian gave a shout of alarm and yanked backward. The tentacle wrapped another loop around his wrist and yanked him forward towards the waters.

The thing seemed determined to drag him down to the bottom.

A black-clad hand wrapped around the tentacle and pulled it off.

Varian sighed in relief. But instead of throwing it back into the murky depth, Hector pulled it up and out of the water.

The tentacle seemed to grow longer and thicker as Hector pulled hand over hand to fish it out.

Varian heard an unearthly screech bubble up from the depths.

Hector had a small, excited smile on his face and his eyes were wide. "How big do you think it is? A kraken of some kind? In a freshwater bog? Is it possible?"

He pulled the tentacle close to his face and examined the suction cups all along the length of it.

Bil gave a loud unhappy yowl and batted at the end of it. The tentacle spasmed at the sensation of the beast's claws and seemed to shrivel and writhe.

Hector lost his grip on the thing. In an instant, the aquatic predator fled back into the bog.

Hector's face fell in disappointment. "Ah, well," he sighed. "Let's press on."

Varian took a few quick steps back from the river's edge, keeping his eye on the murky green surface. Before he knew what happened, the back of his boot clattered on something,

He would deny to his dying day the frightened squeak he'd made when he saw it was a human skeleton.

He felt his face burn in embarrassment as Hector rushed over to see what the matter was.

It had fallen at the base of a stout tree.

THE FOREST OF NO RETURN

The person seemed to have died carving the message into the trunk.

Hector sobered instantly at the sight of it. He heaved a sigh and began gathering bones.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Varian asked.

"I told you there are ghosts in this forest," he explained. "We can add this one to the starry sky if we give him a proper burial and give him his Last Lunar Rites."

Varian frowned and looked at the carved warning on the tree.

"But wouldn't he rest in the forest forever then? Would he want that?"

"True," Hector nodded. "We'll dig a grave outside the forest, so he can finally escape this place."

He put the skeleton in a sack and fastened it to Nótt's saddle. Varian hated the way the bones rattled as they rode on.

But he was soon distracted from that sound as they plunged deeper and deeper into the forest.

The thick trees seemed to play a trick with the light. There were stretches of the path where no light at all shined through. And when he looked straight up at the hundreds-of-feet-tall towering trees, all he could see was the canopy of wide leaves that covered the sky.

He had no idea what time it was.

Or how long they had been walking.

If that wasn't enough to put him on edge, the woods seemed to emit sudden growls and snarls and sighs. Worse was the occasional shrill scream from the darkness. Varian's mind filled with old crone stories about banshees in the forest. But he knew it was probably just a shadow cat.

The sounds made it impossible to relax. It almost seemed deliberate. Every time he settled down, another wail would come out from the woods. All his hair would stand on end, and he would grip Ruddiger tighter.

"You recognize that one?" Hector asked curiously, after a particularly human-sounding groan from the dark.

"I grew up on a farm. I know the cry of a dying rabbit, a barn owl screech, or the occasional wolf. But that was something else."

Hector nodded thoughtfully.

Varian tried to look on ahead. But all he could see was a long winding trail disappearing into the darkness. He couldn't see its end.

Varian felt strung out in just a few hours.

He was so on edge, he reacted immediately when an insect the size of a mastiff zipped out of the brush and it flew right at them.

It harried Ruddiger buzzing around his face, trying to bite at him. Ruddiger swatted at it with his front paw.

Varian swung at it with his staff. "Hey! Get away from him! Shoo!"

The giant bug was not deterred, just distracted as it flew up toward him. Varian saw his own face reflected in the giant insect's oily compound eyes. He swallowed and raised his staff again.

Before he realized what happened, there was a lit torch in front of him.

Hector waved it back and forth, creating an arch of blazing orange light. It stood out especially brightly in the darkness of the woods.

The buzzing rose to a panicked pitch and the creature flew away back into the brush.

"There you go." Hector handed him the lit torch, tussled his hair, and then slid down from Ruddiger. He lit another torch for himself. "They don't like the light or the smell of the smoke."

For the second time that day, Varian’s face burned with embarrassment.

His uncle was so cool. His dad was so strong. Why couldn't he be anything like that?

"I could develop a fragrant potion to ward them off." He defaulted to his usual skill set.

"You could," Hector granted from where he'd flopped back down on Nótt. Arm behind his head, looking unbothered by the dangers all around them. "Or you could just light a torch," he offered not unkindly.

Varian still felt a flare of stubbornness.

It was an old familiar feeling. But one that he did not miss: the need to prove himself. Make someone see something in him.

He would make the bug repellent when they made camp for the night. He'd show that the alchemical way was best. After all, anything is possible through the might of alchemy!

As soon as those thoughts passed his mind, the ground beneath his feet rumbled.

Varian had a flash of fear that one of his explosives had gone off.

But no.

There was no blast or heat.

Just the ground rumbling.

An Earthquake?

How could—?

Varian's contemplations were cut off when entire rows of trees shifted before him. As if some invisible giant was dragging them through the soil. The trees moved and the path before them vanished. The wildlife around them seemed to rouse to get out of the way. Then they hid again once the movement stopped. As if they were used to the earth itself rearranging in such a bizarre way.

His mind flashed with all he had ever read about erosion patterns. The impact that trees had on them. The book he once read on plate tectonics. But then, he couldn't ignore the potential magic explanation. He considered the fractal expansion patterns of the black rocks out from their nexus point. Many plants in nature favored the Fibonacci sequence. Perhaps that is their migration pattern? Perhaps the forest was one big organism, a megaflora, and what appeared to be giant ancient trees were simply tendrils moving through the earth like he might run a finger through sand? Perhaps the system was reacting to their presence—

He felt hands on his shoulders.

He blinked a few times and looked up to see Hector kneeling before him.

"That really blew your mind, huh?" Hector asked, looking down at him. "You fell off Ruddiger."

"The trees moved!" was all he could think to say.

Hector stood him back up with a laugh. "Yes, they did. Another feature of these woods."

"I need to map the movement! And figure out the pattern!" he declared, reaching into a saddle bag for pen and parchment.

Hector did not look convinced. "You are welcome to try. But just now, I think I'll figure out which way to go..."

Varian looked up and realized what he meant. The trees opened up and revealed the path before them was consumed by the woods. But three smaller paths had opened up as a result.

Varian puzzled over the problem before he abandoned the pen and parchment. He went into his bag for small devices.

He withdrew a wide-mouthed beaker and poured in water from his canteen. Then he cut off a piece of cork from one of his vials. He found a hairpin that Stalyan gave him. He rubbed the end of it with a chunk of magnetite so the metal pin would carry a magnetic charge. He attached the pin to the cork and floated it in the water. There were a few seconds of movement before the needle came to a stop.

"That way is north," he declared. "And we need to go northeast to get out of the woods, so we should take this path.”

Hector looked down at his water compass, then over at Hjúki sniffing and pawing at the dirt before a different path.

"Well…" Hector hedged. "Is it possible that your compass was fooled by iron in the rock formations?"

"Possible. But not likely," Varian felt his shoulders drop.

Hector gave a whistle and Bil shot up from her nap on the back of Nótt. She bounded up to Hector.

He smacked the trunk of the tallest tree in their immediate area and Bil gave a quick nod. She rushed up the tree trunk in a vertical climb.

Varian had only ever seen spiders and raccoons climb with such ease.

She was so high up that Varian began to get nervous for her, especially after she slipped out of sight.

He heard the flaps and caws of a disrupted flock of birds. They probably never thought they'd have to contend with a terrestrial land predator so high up there.

"If only we were birds," Hector muttered absently. "Could fly right over this cursed place."

"I've got a few ideas for a Saporian-Style hot air balloon," Varian said.

Hector's eyes lit up with interest. "Really now?"

Bil interrupted with a yowl, as she reappeared and climbed back down. She leaped down the last ten feet, landing on her feet.

Hector tossed her a treat that she caught midair. He lavished praise on her and scratched her behind the ears. She even rolled onto her back so Hector could rub her belly. At some arbitrary point, she decided it was enough and tried to bite Hector's hand. He took it in good humor and laughed as she rose back to her feet.

She trotted up right beside her brother and pawed at the path he had been on before.

"But if we go that way, we would be going east," Varian argued.

"Could be that the exit to the forest has moved east," Hector offered.

Bil nodded.

"But I… alright," he accepted, dumping out the water on the ground.

"It was a good idea," Hector offered. "I hope you show me how to do that someday.”

Varian knew Hector was just trying to spare his feelings.

They traveled down the eastern path the Bearcats chose. It seemed like it grew darker the deeper they ventured.

Varian wondered if his path would have had more light.

Well, if he wasn't going to be a useful navigator, he could at least get to work on figuring out the pattern of the trees. He started with the reported total area of the forest and mapped and tracked every single tree cluster he could see moving. He recorded how many, how far, how fast, and in what direction. He puzzled and puzzled trying to discern a pattern that he could use to predict their movement.

"Eureka!" he proclaimed, picking up his parchment.

"Whatcha got there?" Hector perked up from his light snooze.

"I think I determined the pattern that the trees move by!"

"Really?" Hector asked, sitting up in interest. "Very impressive."

"If my calculations are correct, then that cluster of trees," he gestured over to the cluster. "Should move ten meters to the west in the next minute."

Varian looked up and down, between his calculations and the trees themselves.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Then nearly five minutes.

Varian felt more and more crushed with each second that trickled by.

Worse, Hector looked back and forth confused at first. Before his expression switched to sympathy.

Just then, the ground shook again.

Varian's head popped up, but it wasn't the ones in front of them, it was a small cluster nearly a hundred paces back. And they moved northward.

"Well, maybe the calculations were a bit off," Hector said carefully. "I'm sure you'll figure it out if you keep trying."

The parchment crumpled in his hands.

Varian was used to his dad telling him to just quit. Just stop his futile work when things went wrong. He had no idea what to do with this strange gentle condescending pity.

It made him want to work twice as hard to prove himself. But the more he examined the crumpled calculations between his clenched fists, the more the pattern looked completely random. He crumbled up the paper and tossed it into the bog.

It sunk in seconds.

"…Or don't worry about it," Hector said watching him with concern. "Probably a waste of your time anyway."

"It would have been good to know." Varian tried to repress the frustration seeping into his voice. He would not be accused of pouting or sulking like a child.

"It's magic," Hector shrugged. "Makes a fool of us all eventually."

Varian was so used to examining the natural world through the lens of the scientific method. Abiding by natural laws.

Understandable.

Quantifiable.

Replicable.

But magic was something else entirely.

"It's not about the trees. Not really. I just feel like… I've been up against magic for so long now. And magic always wins. No matter how hard I work. Sometimes I can apply what I know to certain magics like the mood potion and truth serum. But usually, it just blows up in my face." He clenched and unclenched his fists trying to drive the frustration away.

"Why does that bother you so much?"

"I know I'll have to contend with magic again sooner or later."

He envisioned the bright blue crackles of energy and the black rocks shooting up from the ground to destroy him.

"And I need to understand it."

If he couldn't understand a few stupid trees, what hope did he have to save his dad?

They rode on in silence.

Okay, so perhaps Varian did not make much of a woodsman.

He struggled to split logs. He couldn't clean a rabbit. When it came time to start a fire, he usually reached for one of his incendiary potions rather than flint and steel. He didn’t know how to make any traps, he couldn’t catch a fish the normal way and he relied on Ruddiger for foraging. He had a keen eye for herbs with alchemical potential to be sure, but not so much the ones for food.

He never had to think about woodland survival before. He didn't grow up in a city by any means, but he was hardly roughing it out in nature.

Besides, his skills lie in the Alchemical Arts! Who cares if his survival skills were lacking? Who cared if he wasn't so good at this woodsy stuff?

Apparently, the answer to that question was: Hector.

The man fretted like an old barn cat who realized her kitten couldn't catch a mouse.

His uncle seemed to have taken it upon himself to teach him as much bushcraft and woodland survival as possible.

At the expense of his alchemy time!

The first night in the woods, Hector had him make the fire without chemicals as they settled in. And he instructed him on how to build different traps. Or he pointed out what plants or animals were good for eating. Even how to weave baskets and ropes.

Varian did not care at all for the new after-dinner ritual.

It's not like he was the kind of person to get frustrated at things he wasn't good at. He just… knew to play to his strengths. And he was almost entirely self-taught.

Every time Hector corrected him patiently, helped guide his hand, or even complimented his progress after a long string of failures, Varian bristled.

He didn't know why he felt embarrassed to not know these things. He usually loved learning new things.

So, why was he getting frustrated? Maybe because he was tired and stressed from the dark scary woods? Maybe because the subject held no interest to him?

He let out a relieved sigh when Hector announced they were done tying rabbit snares for the evening. He handed Varian two legs from the one Bil caught the previous day.

But all Varian could think about was getting back to his alchemy work. He set up the table a ways off from the tent, just in case something exploded, but still within the light of the fire.

He placed his dinner on the corner of the table.

He relaxed with the familiar motions of alchemy. He quickly got to work creating and modifying an insect repellent he’d used back at home. He was fairly sure it would also work on the giant insects if he could only make it strong enough. And he’d finally accepted that the movement of the trees was indeed totally random. But maybe he could detect when they were about to move using specially modified dowsing rods.

One of the potions failed to properly synthesize.

Varian had to suppress a groan and step back from the table. He pushed up his goggles and rubbed his eyes.

Okay, so he had a bad showing of it today.

But that's okay. He can recover. He just needed to get some sleep and eat his dinner and he'll be ready to try again tomorrow…

He returned his attention to the table.

His face twisted in confusion as it appeared the table was now a few feet shorter.

It was sinking!

"Get back here!" Varian grabbed the table and yanked up it with all his strength, but it just kept sinking.

All his work! And dinner! It slid off the table and into the sinking dirt. Then the table fully disappeared. Varian's fists clenched and he plunged an arm into the dirt after it. The land took the arm and started pulling it downward as well.

Varian had only just registered what a monumentally stupid thing he'd done when Hector yanked him back out.

Eventually, the pit gave him up, and they both fell back.

"Landpit." Hector sat up, rubbing his chest where he had taken a crossbow bolt a few weeks back.

"Landpit…" Varian echoed. Staring into the pit where he'd lost his night's work and dinner.

"Yeah, I guess they pop up randomly as we get further into the forest. I should have warned you," he said apologetically. "Lose anything important?"

"No," he answered disappointed. He knew it was true. But it felt false.

Hector must have sensed it. He put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's relax for the evening."

Varian sighed and let himself be guided away from the landpit.

Varian was wrapped in the old quilt and Ruddiger settled in on his lap. Hector put a drink in his hand.

It was hot cider inside one of his glass mixing beakers.

The taste of the spices and apples reminded him of home.

All at once, Varian felt a fool for getting so worked up.

Varian did not want to admit he'd lost his dinner, so he sipped away on his hot cider. He relaxed for what felt like the first time that whole day.

Varian listened to the nighttime sounds of the forest.

"Tell me about the Battle of Old Corona," Hector said unprompted.

Varian recognized it as the distraction tactic it was. But he was glad to be distracted.

Varian told him. He explained his setup, his plans, the events of the evening, and the ways it all went wrong.

Hector listened carefully. Occasionally, he would interrupt with clarifying questions.

It was a surreal experience. To have a grown-up not telling him to not fight a kingdom on his own, but instead giving him pointers on how to do it better.

Hector had a stick and drew a diagram of the battleground in the dirt. Varian leaned in and listened closely.

"So, the tunnel of black rocks was here, then the river, your house, the old windmill, the border wall here, and the river was here."

"I had ten automatons," he said picking up his own stick. "Here and here." He drew their relative positions. "And here's the entrance to the tunnels. I still can't believe they actually thought they could sneak up on me using tunnels that I showed them in the first place."

"You shouldn't have let them penetrate your inner sanctum. You could have collapsed the tunnels that led to the castle."

"Well, I couldn't exactly bring dad to the princess, but I could bring the princess to dad. Sunshine knows she wouldn't have come just to help me."

"I thought you said you just needed her hair," Hector said with a grim expression.

"I'm not sure the Sundrop can exist outside of a living vessel," Varian explained. "Or if it would manifest those traits that I needed it to if it was back inside a flower or something."

Hector nodded. "Did they bring any siege engines?"

"No."

"Foolish."

"I thought so too. If they had, they could have dragged me out there before I had the chance to get very far with the drill."

"The automatons seem limited in their intelligence and maneuverability. I wonder if Ruddiger could have tipped the balance in the open field." Hector drew another shape in front of the house.

"My goal was to harness the power of the Sundrop, not really to repel the invading force." Varian pointed out.

"They never ended up being much of a threat anyway.

"Still, you could have destroyed the army and then dealt with the princess at your leisure."

"I wanted Ruddiger with me," Varian admitted. "And I'm glad he was, in the end."

"I can understand that." Hector granted. "Perhaps if you'd destroyed the bridge." Hector crossed out the line he'd drawn across the river.

"Forced them to exhaust themselves crossing the river or scaling the wall. Make them leave their horses behind or risk laming them in the waters."

Varian imagined Max and Fidela and frowned at that idea.

“I’d be cutting off an escape route.” he pointed out.

“Good point.” Hector traced the line that represented the road back even further towards the castle.

“What about the bridge that connects the island to the mainland?”

“That might just have worked,” Varian brought a fist down on his open palm. “But it might have also slowed down the princess from getting to me. I needed to try as quick as possible.”

“But why? What was the rush?”

“Nothing but my own guilt.” He admitted.

“In hindsight, what would you have done?”

“Maybe I could have filled the whole field with the glue trap." He brushed the space past the bridge with his stick. "And used the automatons to chase them into it. Or I could have equipped the automatons with more of the sleeping powder. Like I said: they were a secondary concern. Never amounted to more than a second source of hostages."

"You rushed in," Hector decided after they'd talked for a while. "You made the smart decisions, up to first contact with the enemy. Then you only made the emotional ones."

Varian dropped his head. "Yes."

"Hey now," Hector said trying to backtrack. "You'd hardly be the first fourteen-year-old to lose your composure in a high-stress situation. The fact that you even stood your ground against them in the first place already makes you stronger than most."

Ruddiger hissed like he didn't like that line of thought.

But Varian gave a wan smile. He didn't feel very strong at all.

They continued to strategize as the fire died down.

"At least I learned that magic can be harnessed by mechanical means. I might have been able to try another machine. Or other solutions. If I'd only had more time. It might have worked, but… her chameleon escaped." Varian said.

Ruddiger chittered guiltily, and Varian pulled him in closer to reassure him.

"A chameleon? The small lizard?" Hector sounded confused.

"Yeah, he was easily the most effective member of the entire kingdom," Varian said dead serious.

"Even so, the guards were at your door. Broke your sentinels. Could have broken in."

"That's what my robot was for. And the tunnels… maybe I wouldn't have even needed the escape route if I was a bit better with my martial skills…" he hedged, giving Hector a hopeful look. "Like sword fighting…?"

"Probably not." Hector shut him down.

Varian sighed and ran his stick over the drawing in the dirt.

"What about a higher spot?" Hector drew out a new diagram. "With only one entry point?" he added, drawing a winding road. "An elevated drop-off point here, the river moves like so, but a much higher concentration of black rocks..." he frowned.

"Oh!" Varian suddenly realized. "You're talking about your home?"

"Yes. The situations are very different. But it's still Coronans invading a fortified position." He kept his eyes on the drawings. "And it's your home too," he added almost absently.

Varian felt a warm feeling in his chest. Both from the idea of a new home and his opinion being valued.

"Then I'll do my best to protect it too," he said with determination.

Varian examined the diagrams and compared them to his old plans. But the more he thought, the more he came up blank.

"I guess I don't know. I thought I knew her capabilities. I thought she could be stopped. But the black rocks… She's basically a demigod. Even if we trapped her in place, she could still destroy us from a distance."

"What if we killed her immediately? Caught her by surprise? Take her out before she has the chance to even harness the black rocks?"

Varian blinked in shock. "But… I don't want to kill her?"

Hector blinked back. "You don't?"

Varian thought about it. "I did once? But not anymore." He felt surprisingly sure of that.

"I see." Hector returned his attention to the first diagram. "Your aversion to terminal force… That explains it…" He circled the two points of contact between the two opposing forces.

"Don't say it like it's a weakness." Varian crossed his arms.

"I was just saying; I see why you didn't just poison everyone and be done with it…"

Varian's mind briefly thought back to one dark delirious night when he started designs to modify his crystal-creator. The one that already nearly destroyed the whole island at the Science Expo. He'd thought to roll it underneath the castle in order to preemptively blow up anyone who dared stand in his way. He remembered how he'd flinched back in horror and threw the blueprints into the fire. He'd sobbed and yanked at his hair and decided to start baking his truth cookies instead.

"It wouldn't have helped accomplish your ultimate goal," Hector continued musing. "And they won't have nearly so many when they invade the Great Tree."

"It won't matter," Varian shook his head. "She's a force unto herself."

"So are you," Hector said encouragingly. Like he really meant it.

"No, you don't understand." Varian shook his head. "I never stood a chance. She'll use the black rocks to break anything we build. We might be able to repel an army, but not her. The only advantage I ever had was my drill and a boot on her mother's throat. I still don't understand why she let me thread her hair into the drill if she could have just touched a rock and cracked it open. Maybe she thought it was funny? But it still seemed to weaken her?"

"Hmm, I learned some mage-slaying as part of my Brotherhood training. But nothing on the level of the physical embodiment of the power of the sun…" Hector broke off.

The silence was heavy.

Two mortal men trying to contend with unfathomable power.

In the end, they simply decided to set up some of Varian's traps and alarms along the road, and further iterate on the set-up when they reached the tree.

"Thanks for your input on this," Hector said after the long stretch of silence. "I've never been a great strategist. That was always your dad's job."

"How did you meet my dad?" Varian asked hopefully.

Hector's smile dropped and he cast his stick into the fire.

"Was it when you joined the Brotherhood or before that?" Varian pressed.

"It's bad luck to speak dark words under a dark sky…” He absently touched the dark marking that ran under the bridge of his nose. “Did I ever tell you about the time your aunt and I set the prince's bed chambers on fire?"

"Aw, come on! That's what you said on the new moon," Varian complained. "It's a waxing crescent now."

"I'll tell you someday," he said the words like an apology, but Varian recognized it for the rejection that it was.

It reminded him of when his dad used to refuse to tell him things.

What's worse, Varian felt like there was no corner of his soul he had not turned over to his estranged uncle. But there was still so much he just didn't get about the man.

And worst of all, the only things he had left of his dad right now were a few keepsakes and his memories and stories.

Hector keeping secrets was hurtful.

Hector keeping secrets about his dad made his fists clench in anger.

Varian had just opened his mouth to argue when a boom of thunder echoed throughout the woods.

All of a sudden, the rain impacted hard on the thick canopy of leaves far above them. And in only a few seconds, it came plummeting down to the ground.

Hector cursed and grabbed up all the paper and dry materials within reach.

Varian did the same, grabbing the quilt and the table. Ruddiger scurried past his feet with a half-eaten apple in his mouth. Hjúki grabbed the rest of the rabbit off the spit and pushed the tent flap open.

Varian rushed in behind. Bil had already been snoozing away inside and hissed in annoyance as the rest of them scrambled in.

He looked back to Nótt as the rhinoceros splashed a puddle with his front legs and rolled in the mud, clearly having the time of his life.

Varian shivered and just wondered how.

The fire had gone out, and smoke and steam rose into the air.

They dried off to the best of their ability. At least it was late enough to settle in.

Varian hoped the storm would pass soon.

He stared at the ceiling of their sealed canvas tent that night. His stomach growled. He just couldn't make his mind shut down and relax.

But Hector slept like the dead. Same with Hjúki and Ruddiger. Somehow, they all seemed to find the pelting of rain on their tent to be soothing.

None of them even stirred when thunder shook the forest.

The hunger and storm kept Varian up through the darkest hours of the night, and most of the shortest hours of the morning.

Chapter Text

By the time the sunlight crept across the forest floor, the rain had somehow gotten even worse. Varian stirred, still groggy from sleep. Ruddiger was curled up on his chest, and Bil was resting across his lap. He rubbed his eyes, and Ruddiger reluctantly shifted off him. He sat up in a daze. He shivered and noticed the flap of the tent cracked open.

Hector peered out before he looked back at him.

“Go back to sleep.” He let the flap fall closed. “It's not letting up. Let's start fresh tomorrow.”

“What time is it?” Varian asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He cringed when he realized he’d slept in his goggles again.

“Few hours past sunrise.” Hector sighed and handed him his morning rations.

Varian ate mechanically and blinked in surprise when the food was gone so soon. He was still hungry from last night. But he said nothing about it.

He wasn't sure how it was possible he’d slept in late but still felt like he hadn’t slept at all.

His eyes were not focusing on things quickly enough, and everything felt slow and blurry.

Varian opened the tent and stared out into the woods. If Hector had not told him it was day-proper, he might not have believed it. Yesterday, the day was dreary and gloomy. But today with the heavy clouds, it couldn't really be called daytime. The fog was so thick he couldn't see past the edge of the clearing they had camped in. The hard pelting of rain shrouded the usual sounds of creatures and the forest. It made him nervous in their absence.

He glimpsed a dark shadow darting through the mist beyond the clearing's edge. It was probably some kind of land mammal. But his sleep-addled mind fooled his eyes into seeing the vague shape of a giant serpent.

He shook his head and let the flap fall closed again.

“We should get going. We're already behind schedule.”

“You want to press on?” Hector balked.

“I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“We don't have to. The tent will hold up, we can spend the day reading and playing cards,” he offered.

“Weren't you the one who wanted to get out of the woods in record time?”

“That was before the monsoon.”

“If you were traveling alone, would you stop for the day?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“No,” Hector admitted. “But I wasn't imprisoned on the verge of starvation for months. Your condition is still delicate.”

“I knew it.” Varian griped, packing up his things. “I told you: I'm fine. I want to get out of these woods.”

Hector sighed and helped him pack and dismantle the tent.

Varian wasn't sure what was thicker: the fog on the path or the fog in his tired mind.

He wasn't sure what moved slower: their mounts struggling in the mud, or his own sluggish thoughts.

He was soaked through to the bone. He shivered, but when Hector tried to make them stop, he refused.

Varian felt bad. He wore two cloaks, both with hoods. But Hector's cloak did not have a hood. Varian offered him his goggles, but he refused.

Despite the goggles, it was still hard to see the way. More than once, they wandered off the trail, only for Hector to call up to him to correct their course.

Varian hated that he was wrong about the path yesterday.

Varian hated that he was wrong about the rain today.

Varian hated everything.

He was miserable, and they were slow going.

But the journey had its bright spots as well.

Through the mist, he stumbled upon a strange cluster of spotted fungi. And to his wonder, he discovered they barked and yipped like dogs.

“Pupshrooms,” Hector told him, wringing out his long hair. “Annoying little fungus. Not even that good for eating.”

The spotted red cap in his hand whined as if it understood his words.

Varian's mind flooded with possibilities for the creatures.

“Your duty is to guard a place, right?” he asked scraping under the cap for spores, he stored them in a corked vial. “They could be a kind of alarm.”

Hector groaned. “But they're so loud.”

“That's the point!”

They rode on.

And on and on.

Normally, Hector was happy to wait for Varian to stop and collect samples. But for whatever reason, as the day wore on, it seemed to annoy him.

“Varian,” he groaned. “What even are those?”

Varian blinked in confusion. What was he getting again?

“I've never seen a flower in this color before,” he admitted sheepishly.

Hector took a deep breath, and his hands loosened from around his reins. “Hurry up!”

Despite Hector's grumpiness, Varian gathered up a considerable collection in only a few hours. He had seeds and buds of every kind, samples and spores, tropical plants for potions, and beautiful tropical flowers. His favorite was a cluster of bioluminescent mushrooms.

Varian spotted a patch of vines moving like snakes and called for Ruddiger to stop. He slid down and pointedly ignored Hector's frustrated sigh.

“Come on, kid…” he said. “We should be trying to get as far as possible.”

“These little discoveries we make along the way will make it all worth it,” Varian replied.

“Our ongoing progress is what makes it all worth it,” he griped but made no move to stop him.

He wandered into the patch, searching for buds or seeds he could extract. The vines seemed to move more at Varian's intrusion. Before, they were writhing around randomly from the sensation of the rain. But now, with Varian in their midst, they moved to him together and deliberately.

Varian was tangled up in a matter of seconds.

He yelped in surprise as he tried to pull out of their grip. Hector ran up but stopped short.

“Binding vines,” Hector identified. “Stronger than steel when defensive. All you need to do is relax your muscles, and they’ll release you.”

Varian took a deep breath and did as he was bid. He forced his muscles to relax.

Sure enough, the vines loosened around him.

“Okay, I've got to get a sample of these,” he smiled when his boots hit the ground again.

“No,” Hector said shortly. “Leave them. Let's carry on.”

“Oh, come on, we could cultivate them outside your tree. Then anyone who—”

Hector put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him along. The motion reactivated the patch of vines, and both Hector and Varian found themselves caught up.

Varian simply relaxed his muscles again and took several quick steps out of the vine patch.

“Smooth move, Hector,” he said annoyed as he secured his samples in his bag.

He expected to turn his head and see his uncle grumbling behind him, but he wasn't there. He looked back to the vines and saw Hector still ensnared in them. He stood stark still. His eyes were wide, staring straight ahead, unfocused.

“Hector?” Varian asked.

Hector looked at him, but his eyes didn't really seem to see him.

“Are you okay? Is it painful?”

The vines were tight around him, but they didn't seem to be restrictive or poisonous.

“Fine, fine,” Hector said, sounding strained.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and some of the vines fell away, but others still seemed to tighten around him.

His eyes sprang open, and he wrenched an arm free from the vines, but they redoubled and tightened around him. He made a guttural panicked noise and desperately clawed at the vines that had wrapped around his throat.

He fought to draw in breaths.

The blade on his gauntlet sprang forth dangerously close to his own face.

He's panicking. Varian realized in alarm. The sensation of being bound made him like that. He is not able to relax.

He thought back to his own panic in confinement, in a stone cell back in Corona and Vardaros. The way it made him feel small and powerless and like the walls were closing in on him.

Did Hector have a similar source of his panic? But with being restrained and not the cells and chains?

Not that he would tell me. Varian thought darkly. He went into his bag and found an acid or herbicide.

Hector continued to slice away at the vines. With mixed results.

Varian got to work on some of the wider vines with the acid, trying to avoid the ones near Hector's skin and clothes.

Eventually, working together, they got him free.

Hector breathed hard and withdrew his blade.

“Hector, what—?”

“Let's avoid the binding vines from now on,” Hector growled out ripping the last vestiges of the vines off his body as he walked back to Nótt without another word.

“I was gathering them to help protect your stupid tree,” Varian muttered, eyes narrowing.

They rode on.

And on and on.

It was still bitter cold. The frigid air sliced through his clothing and chilled his bones. The sound of rain was deafening, causing Varian's head to throb. He took a painkiller, and it soothed some. But he still made a mental note to brew it stronger next time. Their journey was made even more difficult by the seeping mud, which made it hard to move and avoid hazards.

When they took a break to rest and eat, the bearcats licked and nibbled their toes to try and increase blood flow and restore sensation.

They were back on the path all too soon. They pressed on without complaint, but Varian couldn't shake the feeling that they all blamed him. That thought tied his stomach up in knots.

Ruddiger seemed to sense his discomfort and quickened his pace. Hector called for him to slow down.

Varian reluctantly dropped the reins.

“Ruddiger's legs are longer than Nótt's! Ease up!” Hector shouted up to him.

Varian couldn't tell if he had raised his voice to be heard over the pounding rain or in anger.

He furrowed his brow, unsure of how to react. He knew his Dad’s patterns when he was angry with him. Knew them well. But that was still a side of his uncle he didn't understand. Not understanding made him uneasy. Everything about this journey made him uneasy.

A few more minutes, and Hector's voice called up again.

It rang sharp and reprimanding in Varian's ears, and he winced at the sound of it. He braced for another lecture.

Without thinking, he nudged Ruddiger's side with a boot, urging him on faster. But a minute later, he realized he could no longer hear Hector or Nótt's footsteps.

He spun around and rode back along the trail, but they were nowhere to be found.

It felt like an ice-cold hand clenched around his heart.

Panic set in and Varian kicked Ruddiger on harder, they circled around the brush near where he last saw them. Frantically, he searched for any sign of his lost companions.

He spun in every direction, his frantic breathing filling the silent forest. Hjúki noticed his distress and doubled back.

The bearcat yowled and sniffed the air and raced back down the trail they had come from. But where there was once a clear path, there was now a cluster of thick, gnarled trees. Hjúki sniffed around the trees and one of his front paws sank into a patch of dirt nearby. Varian and Ruddiger rushed to pull the panicking bearcats out of the pit.

They sat back, breathing heavily, and Varian realized what must have happened. Hector and Nótt had fallen into a land pit and called out for help while Varian had ridden on like a petulant child. The trees had moved to cover the pit, leaving them trapped.

They could be anywhere in the forest - miles away or just over the next hill and dale.

Varian shivered, his skin prickled with goosebumps. He felt completely isolated in the dark woods. Of course, he still had Ruddiger and Hjúki, but he couldn't help but feel that he now relied on Hector for safety. The trees seemed to loom twice as tall, and the shadows grew longer and darker as if all the scary sounds of the forest were closing in on him.

Varian was no longer frustrated; he was scared. What would he do out here on his own? Was Hector okay? Nótt? Bil? Were they alive or dead? Would they fall into another pit?

He reached out for Ruddiger, who nuzzled closer to him, and Hjúki yowled, urging them to keep moving.

“Wait!” Varian called out to the bearcat. “Shouldn't we wait here and let them find us?” But Hjúki didn't slow down, and Varian and Ruddiger followed behind, feeling helpless and lost.

“Hector! Nótt! Bil! HECTOR!” Varian shouted into the woods, hoping to be heard.

The weak light that streamed through the leaves was fading. Varian could always use his lights but that would do nothing for warmth. And Hector didn't have any lights at all.

In just a few hours they'd be plunged into pitch darkness.

Hjúki kept his nose in the air and on the path, walking even after hours had passed and they should have stopped for rest. He only occasionally paused to snort and sneeze to clear the water from his nose and press on.

Varian checked his compass and saw they were moving south, away from the way out. Should he try to redirect the bearcat? Did he know where he was going, or was he just panicking like Varian? An unbidden thought came to Varian's mind that he should direct Ruddiger to abandon the Bearcat and set out Northward.

Varian's thoughts only grew more defeated. Why did he insist they ride on? What if he never saw him again? Could he save him too? Where should he go? What should he do?

Ruddiger chittered to him nervously.

“I'm fine,” Varian assured him.

“Hector! Nótt! Bil! Hector!” he called out. Something roared out from the tree line, and branches crunched and snapped as they approached. Varian squeaked, and Hjúki hissed.

Muzzles and paws appeared out of the shadows of the forest as a half-dozen slayer wolves drew closer to them. Varian could hear the low growls and see the flash of fangs as they approached.

Ruddiger leaped forward and roared at the pack. He stood up on his hind legs to appear larger. Varian had to grab onto the saddle with all his strength to not get thrown off. He couldn't see the beasts, but he could hear them. They sounded loud and fearsome. After a few tense moments, Ruddiger dropped back down as the slayer wolves retreated back into the tree line. He lost sight of them, but his heart didn't stop racing until a few minutes later as they rode on.

Varian kept his voice down after that.

Hjúki led them off the path and into the thick woods. They slipped and slid down a flooded ravine and waded through a few feet of water. Varian tried to coax the bearcat to ride with him onboard Ruddiger's back, but he refused, and doggy paddled across.

He shivered violently as he climbed up the opposite side of the ravine. Varian tried to get the bearcat to stop so he could dry him off. But Hjúki growled and snapped his teeth at him. Varian pulled back in shock.

“Please...” he said as the bearcat trudged on determined. He looked up to Ruddiger, who shook his head sadly.

Varian blinked rapidly as he climbed back on board Ruddiger, he sniffled and rubbed his eyes as they started to well up. He was exhausted and drained of energy, and the rocking motion of Ruddiger's gait was almost soothing.

Varian felt his eyes drooping shut and fought the exhaustion. He had no idea how long he swayed in the saddle and wavered in and out of consciousness. He wasn't sure how long had passed when he heard the bearcat screech and bound forward.

He felt a jolt of alarm before he saw the rhinoceros cresting over a ridge. A smaller grey blur ran past as Bil bounded past and tackled her brother to the ground. The two of them rolled around excitedly together on the muddy forest floor.

“Varian!” Hector called out as he was pulled into a relieved embrace. “Stay closer from now on,” Hector said breathlessly, the relief evident in his voice. Varian frowned from where he was being squeezed.

“Keep up next time,” he said surly. His eyes widened at his own vitriol.

Hector pulled back to look at him, brow furrowed, head tilted. Eventually, he gave a shaky laugh.

Varian couldn't comprehend how he could laugh at a time like this, but he was relieved he wasn't offended.

Hector hugged Varian again. He could feel Hector's muscles relaxing as if he too hadn't been able to relax for the last few hours.

Varian wasn't scared or frustrated anymore. Only tired and sad.

They stopped soon after. Hector spied a cluster of caves near a cliffside along the river they'd been following.

Time felt distorted in this place. Like dinner should have been hours ago and dawn had been gone for days.

What Varian wouldn't give for their room back at the inn in Vardaros! For a warm dry bed.

They stopped abruptly, and Ruddiger slid in the mud. Varian almost lost his seat, and his fingers were stiff and numb from the cold. He rubbed them together and blew into them to try to warm them up.

He saw Hector shiver as he pulled off Nótt's saddle. The rhino flopped down, curled up under a patch of leaves for shelter, and immediately dropped off.

Varian's boots slipped on the wet saddle as he dismounted, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward. He landed with a loud squelch, mud oozing around him. He grunted as he tried to push himself upright, his numb hands struggled to find purchase on the slick ground.

Hector offered Varian a hand up, but he stood up on his own.

Together they unpacked the luggage under the lip of the cave, and Ruddiger transformed back.

As Hector miraculously started a fire inside the cave, Varian struggled to set up the tent.

He fumbled a tent pole in his shivering, rain-slicked hands. He wanted to snap it over his knee in frustration.

“Forget it!” Hector called out to him. “We'll sleep in the caves tonight!”

“I can do it!” Varian insisted.

“It's not worth it! Come on!” he called back.

He felt shame run through him. Why did he let himself become so upset about something so stupid?

Hector poked at the fire with a stick, trying to coax it into a proper blaze. Despite his efforts, the flames remained small and feeble, only enough to warm them up. Varian rummaged through their supplies, pulling out packets of dried meat and hardtack. They might not be able to cook, but they had enough rations to make a meal of.

There wasn't enough room to spread out to do alchemy, and he didn't dare unpack any of his fragile books.

Ruddiger sat on his lap as they tried to absorb as much warmth as possible. Varian huddled closer to the fire, his teeth chattering as he wrapped his two cloaks tightly around himself. He knew if he asked, Hector would give him his cloak as well, without a second thought. He gritted his teeth and decided at that moment he would rather freeze to death than do that.

Hector was drying Hjúki off. The bearcat shook himself, and the droplets of water spread everywhere.

Hector chuckled.

Ruddiger hissed and skittered off to rest under the giant leaves with Nótt. The rhino didn’t even stir.

Varian felt his eye twitch in irritation, but he took a deep breath to tamp that feeling down. The drumming of rain was noisy all around them. He had no idea how he was going to sleep like this.

“What a day,” Hector lamented. “This forest really shook us up, huh?”

“It's terrible,” Varian replied tipping the water out of his boot.

“Let's try to stick together from now on, yeah?”

“I can handle myself,” he said. “I'm pretty strong, remember?”

“How could I forget? You did so well against the Baron's men,” Hector said, brushing out Hjúki's fur absentmindedly.

“Not well enough that you let me help against the prison guards,” Varian said bitterly.

“I—” Hector’s voice trailed off, and he looked at Varian with a furrowed brow.

Hjúki looked back and forth between them and slunk off deeper into the cave.

Varian wasn't spoiling for a fight, not really, but he was sick of Hector acting like everything was just fine, like he hadn't messed up so badly like they weren't mad at each other.

“Are you angry with me?” Hector asked, giving him his full attention.

“No,” Varian said.

And he wasn't.

He was feeling too many things to narrow it down to anger.

“I just don't appreciate being underestimated. I can survive out in the woods, and I can fight... You shouldn’t have knocked me out back in Vardaros.”

He had been stewing over it for a while now, and he was sick of pretending everything was fine.

“You are angry,” Hector said.

“I'm not.” But even if he was, it would only make sense. “You knew about my weakness to blood… and you used it against me. To stop me from fighting my own battles.”

“Your own battles?” he questioned. “There were nearly a dozen armed guards. You are a child, a big fight like that is no place for—”

“I'm not a child.” Varian cut him off before he could finish the weak excuse.

“You are,” Hector said, sounding even more confused.

“You shouldn't have taken away my choice. You should have put a sword in my hand, and we could have fought together.” He crossed his arms.

“Does that not feel unseemly to you? Is that the way of Corona? Child soldiers?”

“I'm not a child!” he repeated.

“Think of it like this; You had youngsters in Old Corona you had to look after, yes?”

“I'm not—”

“Please, Varian just answer me.”

“Sure,” he allowed grudgingly. “The miller's girl. She was ten. I had to babysit her sometimes.”

“Would you have put a sword in her hand and had her fight at your side?”

“That's not remotely the same thing! I'm not a little girl!”

“I did not say you were,” he said, now starting to sound irritated. “But think of how young you are to me, even more so than she was to you.”

“It's not the same thing.” He ground out the words, his voice thick with frustration. “If I'm a child, I'm a formidable one. I fought a whole kingdom on my own!”

“Aye, that you are.” Hector’s hands opened and closed. “But I've been a warrior longer than you’ve been alive.”

“So what? The Apothecary had been doing alchemy longer than I've been alive too, and I was better than him.”

“Ah, the confidence of a child prodigy.” Hector rolled his eyes.

“I just mean, that just because you are older, doesn't mean you're right,” Varian insisted.

Hector looked at him like he was trying to solve some riddle in his words. He took a breath.

“I know much of your national mythology is based on youth rebelling against elders and following some destiny. I know you feel you have been betrayed by most authority figures in your life. But I'm not Frederick. I'm not the Captain. I'm not your father. I'm not trying to lie to you or silence you. I'm not trying to impose my will on you; I'm just trying my best to keep us safe.” Hector said, his tone calm and collected. That only served to make Varian more incensed.

“But you are trying to impose your will on me! And none of that other stuff is why I think that!” he shot back.

“Varian, the things I had to do to get us out of Vardaros would have knocked you out anyway,” he explained in that same artificial calm. “I did what I had to do.”

“But maybe you didn't!” Varian insisted. “Maybe we could have gotten out of there without spilling any blood.”

Hector squeezed the space between his eyes in a frustrated move that reminded him of his dad. It's what dad would do when he was mad at him. When he'd already dismissed everything, he'd said as nonsense. Already made up his mind. When he wasn't even listening anymore.

“We could have!” he insisted with more force. “And we should have. It's not what I wanted. It's not what my father would have wanted.”

The mention of his dad caused a flash of hurt to cross Hector's face.

“Varian, I never got the chance to see the two of you interact, but I'm sure he would have done anything for you.”

Varian shook his head. “Not confront Fredrick. Or confront his past. And he would never hurt anyone.”

“Hurt anyone?” Hector scoffed. “Varian, your father was also a warrior. We served during the darkest chapter of our kingdom’s history. I once watched him cut the fingers off a man one at a time over an hours-long interrogation.”

Varian blanched.

“What?” he hissed.

“He—” Hector broke off. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I let my anger best me. It wasn't really like that.”

“Then what was it like?” Varian pressed. He wouldn’t let him backtrack. “Just tell me.”

Hector's lips were a tight line, and he shook his head.

Varian clenched his fists. “That's my dad! I have the right to know!”

“I'll tell you one day.” Hector's eyes widened in shock at his flare in temper.

“You think I’m not strong enough to fight my own battles! And now I’m not even strong enough for the truth?”

“That’s not what I said… The truth—” Hector cut off and leaned forward out of the cave. He raised his eyes to the sky, blinking against the pelting rain and dark canopy of leaves. Varian suspected he was trying to find some kind of guidance from the stars. But he wouldn’t see anything but darkness out there.

“I need to tell you something,” Hector said, his shoulders falling.

The fire crackled between them, punctuating the tense silence.

“What is it?”

“Back in Vardaros. After the Coronans tried to break into our room at the inn.”

Varian nodded for Hector to continue.

“I spoke with Stalyan, and I offered to leave her your cache of weapons to use against the Coronans,” Hector admitted.

Varian stared into the fire unseeing as his mind processed his words. “You what?”

Hector rubbed the back of his neck, eyes cast down in shame. “Yes. I didn’t realize they were going to turn on us like they did. I meant to tell you about it before we left, but everything happened so fast after that.”

“You intended to take my inventions?!” Varian said, his voice rising in anger.

“…Yes. I’m sorry. That was not my place. I should have asked you first.”

“No, you’re not. You still think what you did was right,” Varian accused.

“I do. But I’m still sorry about how I did it. I should have talked to you about it first.”

“You’re lying!” He accused, crossing his arms.

Just like everyone else.

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

Hector reached past him and grabbed up his backpack.

“Hey!”

He searched for a second and withdrew a full flask of truth potion. He yanked off the cork with his teeth and tipped it back in three large gulps. He shuddered as the potion seemed to take effect.

“That’s too much!” Varian shouted in panic. He typically divided the potion into multiple small glass flasks, similar to the one he had given to Stalyan. That might have been the equivalent of ten whole cookies! It was enough to make Nótt tell the truth.

“I have no idea what could happen! It’s a magic-based solution. I don’t fully understand it yet.”

“I’m fine,” Hector said. “…I only feel nauseous and lightheaded.”

He blinked in surprise; he clearly had not intended to say that part. He shook his head clear.

“Why did you do that?” Varian asked.

“I don’t know, I—” Hector broke off. “I'm so terrible with words. I thought if I took the potion, I could give you the kind of explanation you deserve. But instead, I’m just speaking literally and compulsively.”

“Yes of course! It’s a truth serum, not an eloquence serum. If I had something like that, I wouldn’t have half the problems I do!”

Hector shook his head again, and Varian saw the faint glow of purple about his eyes.

“I am sorry I betrayed your trust by giving your potions to Stalyan without your permission. I did not mean to hurt you. I won’t do it again.”

“Why did you do it?” Varian asked.

“I...” Hector hesitated only briefly. “I was angry. I felt like I couldn’t do anything then, but they could. And…”

“And?”

“I meant to make the city a Vardaros a stumbling block for our Coronan pursuers.” The words came pouring out. “If they mean to follow us, they’ll have to contend with either the hostile nation of Equis, the Forest of No Return, or the city of Vardaros. If we could take Vardaros off the board, the Coronans would lose a foothold out of the West to the rest of the continent. It would significantly slow them.”

“But what about Vardaros?” Varian asked. “What about the people there?”

“Vardaros has seen, what? Three different coups in the last year? The Baron to the Weasel to the Sheriff? They have endured it before,” he said dismissively.

“But that’s not our place to roll into a city and overthrow the leadership,” Varian said. “That’s something that she would do.”

“I only did what I thought would keep us from harm.” Hector insisted. “And pay back the Coronans.”

“Hector, what if one of the Baron’s men used my weapons against someone innocent?”

Varian remembered a smiling face and black pigtails twirling in the colorful festival lights.

“What if they hurt Vex?” His stomach sank at his own words.

“It was a calculated risk,” Hector said. “I did what I thought was right.”

“Well, you were wrong!” Varian insisted.

“I’m sorry for taking your things,” Hector said. “That was not my place. But I won’t apologize for trying to guard our lives.”

“But you didn’t have to! I didn’t want to pick a side.”

“But you did pick a side when you saved the Baron,” Hector said coolly. “I didn’t want to get involved with the criminals at all, remember? But you wanted to help him. I sincerely thought we would be of one mind on this, after everything.”

“That’s different! I said I didn’t want to give them weapons!”

“But then Corona tried to kill you in your sleep! I assumed that would change things!”

“It didn’t!”

“It should have!” Hector shot back.

“You were wrong!” Varian repeated.

“You presume to advise me?” Hector's eyes flashed with anger. “Tell me what I can and cannot do to do my duty to ensure your survival? Was it so with your own father? I was just trying to protect you!”

“You can’t just do whatever you want in the name of protecting me!” he shouted back.

Varian broke off as a boom of thunder shook the forest.

The anger drained out of Hector’s tense form and his face turned to worry.

The change irritated Varian even more.

“That’s not your decision.” His voice was raspy from the shouting. “And my creations aren’t yours. You won’t use them ever again.”

Varian snatched the truth potion out of Hector’s hands. Hector looked stunned at the move but gave a small nod.

“Of course. You’re right of course. I won’t. I swear it.”

Varian paused and considered the purple flask in his hand.

He disliked having this conversation on such uneven ground. And his throat was still scratchy. Varian took a small sip and felt the tingly feeling of it taking effect.

“Of course,” Hector repeated. “Yes.”

Varian looked up at him.

“I—I can’t trust you,” he spat out against his better judgment.

His heavy breathing and thudding heart drowned out the rain striking the ground and all the other sounds of the forest.

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.

“Of course, you can.” Hector’s shoulders fell and his voice was full of hurt.

“No, I can’t!” Varian insisted. “I don’t want to travel with you anymore…”

“You don’t?” He sounded like he’d been wounded.

“No, I do!” he said before he even realized the words he was saying.

“You do?” Hector sounded confused.

“No, I don’t,” Varian said equally confused.

Hector’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’m not willing to comply with that.”

“What!?” Varian pulled back.

Hector looked horrified by what he’d just said, and immediately dropped the edge of his cloak.

“I, No. I. I mean. I. Of course, I will. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I— Of course you don’t.”

Varian stood up and went to grab his backpack. He felt the rain beat down on him where he’d edged out of the cave. But Hector stopped him again.

His eyes were dull and dead despite the touches of purple. He had seen the man pierced by bolts and slashed by steel, but he had never seen him look more wounded.

“Please wait,” his voice was grave. “Of course, you are free to go whenever you like. I know why you would be rid of me, but at least let me deliver you somewhere safe.”

Lightning flashed through the woods and one of the bearcats gave a low whine.

Varian gave a stiff nod, not trusting his voice not to quaver or break. He dropped back down to his seat.

“There were no orphanages in Old Selene it was the sacred duty of every landed lord to foster any orphans within their domains. My home had its dark chapters, but it also had a long history of fostering orphans.”

Varian found himself becoming distracted by the lore on the Dark Kingdom.

“In the old days, they were called ‘star sons’ because they were more numerous than the stars in the sky in those times of war. But we were just called fosterlings in my day.” Hector still held on to his cloak as if he thought he was going to dash off into the storm.

He couldn’t help but imagine what it would have been like if Corona had that policy. If, after his dad was encased, he’d had somewhere to turn to. If he’d had a support system. If the king had viewed him as someone he had an obligation to and not an enemy that knew too much, a threat to him.

A part of Varian wanted to sit nearer to the fire and cross his legs, lean forward on his hands, and listen to Hector talk about the Dark Kingdom over dinner. But the rest of him was too mad. Too hurt.

“If you want to part ways. I will accept it. But not here and now. Not in the middle of these woods. There are places I can take you, where you’ll be safe. I have some pull with some of the great houses of Old Selene. They would be honored to take you on. There are safe places in this world for you.” He sounded like he was pleading with him.

“What do you mean?” he asked stiffly. He turned back towards him but didn’t move any closer. “Where?”

“In Ingvarr. The old Lord Kepler would be thrilled to have a bright mind like yours. Or the young Lady Stevinus in Galcrest is a master of the agricultural arts, a farm boy like you would fit right in with her brothers and cousins. Even Lord Byrgius in Neserdnia is a good and decent man.”

“Ingvarr, Galcrest and Neserdnia…” Varian knew if they went to those far-off places, he would have long forgiven Hector by then. “What about Koto? We’re closer to there.”

Hector looked hurt again but pressed on. “The head of that house, Lord Stevinus, is… a cold man. He fostered me for a time. I would hesitate to leave you with him.”

“What about Equis?”

“Lord Tycho holds a hatred for your father, unlike anything I’ve ever seen in this life. I would not leave you with him,” he said more certainly.

He felt the rain on his head, drenching his hair and clothes.

“I understand if the trust is lost, and you no longer want to travel with me. But please, at least allow me to deliver you somewhere safe.”

Varian swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a slow nod. He sat back down under the lip of the cave. Ruddiger brushed his head against Varian's leg. Varian drew in deep breaths and petted Ruddiger. He took small slow bites from his dinner. The anger started to drain away, leaving behind only weariness.

He looked back at his uncle, who appeared uneasy as he shifted his gaze between Varian and the dying fire. Varian felt a stab of guilt.

He didn't want to feel angry anymore.

If this was anything like the fights he'd had with his dad, he braced himself for a night of seething anger and anticipated an uncomfortable, tense atmosphere in the morning. But maybe cooler heads could prevail eventually.

They could fix this and make amends. Or at least he hoped so.

“I don't want to go,” he admitted, staring into the fire.

“I don't want you to go either,” he let out a relieved breath.

They both watched as the rain fell outside of the cave. Hector stoked the fire and sighed.

“I was alone for so long after my parents died. I would never want that for you. After I found out your dad was dead, all I could think about was how much I wished we could have simply talked through all the ways we had been angry with one another.”

Hector anxiously waited for Varian to say something in response.

The thunder rolled again.

“Dead?” Varian repeated numbly. “What do you mean?”

Hector's eyes widened.

For the first time in the entire conversation, Hector looked regretful and frightened. His eyes were wide with panic and his mouth snapped shut.

“What do you mean?” Varian repeated shakily.

Hector's teeth clenched together. All his muscles tensed and strained. His fists clenched. He looked like he was fighting with all his strength to resist the effects of the potion. His hands flew up to his mouth. His eyes were wide, and Varian saw rings of the purple of the potion in them.

The glowing purple bled into his irises and sclera.

“I—” he gagged. “Your father is dead, and it's my duty to—” he cut off and jerked around, away from the camp.

The words sank in. He distantly heard the sounds of Hector retching.

He wasn't lying before...

He had been lying since the beginning.

“You don't believe I can do it…” It was a sobering realization. “You don't believe in me…”

A cold sensation swept through him as if his blood had turned to ice, like those moments right before he fainted.

“I do!” Hector wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to reach out to him with the other one. “I believe if it were possible to save him, you would be the only one in this world that could! But…”

“But you don't think it can be done,” Varian finished for him.

“No…” he admitted, his head falling in shame.

“But I can!” Varian insisted. “I changed the rocks before! I will do it again!”

“Even if you did… How could he still be alive in there? After all these months...” His tone wasn't argumentative. It was pained and remorseful.

As if Varian needed to be reminded of that! As if he wasn't haunted by it every waking hour of the day and through every dark hour of the night.

“It's magic!” was his last desperate hope. The one he'd repeated to himself over and over again. It almost felt like a mantra, like a lifeline. “He's still alive! It's magic!”

“Since when do you put your faith in treacherous magics?” Hector asked. He had settled back into pity.

“Since treacherous magics encased my father!”

“Varian...”

“You really... you think I killed my dad?” He needed to know.

“I think it was a terrible accident...”

“Then why did you say I could back then?!” he demanded. “Back in Corona?”

Was every grown-up a liar? Every single one of them?

“Because I didn't want you to throw your life away back there.” Hector's voice was growing defensive. “Either caught by the Coronas or running yourself into the ground. Your father would never have wanted that.”

“He's not dead!” He was shouting at the top of his voice at this point.

“He is!” Hector's voice rose to meet his own. “Varian, a wound needs to heal! You can't keep tearing it open over and over!”

“That's not what I'm doing!”

“You need to accept reality eventually. You can't move on until you accept it.”

“I won't! And I'll spend every waking moment trying to save him for the rest of my life if that's what it takes!”

“He's dead, Varian! I need—”

Hector said something else, but Varian did not hear.

He was on his feet and running.

His feet moved on instinct as his vision was too blurry to see in front of him. The slick and muddy ground made it difficult to keep his footing. Every hurried step threatened a fall.

He stumbled once. Then again. But he kept moving.

Hector's voice calling his name reached his ears.

Once in anger.

Then in worry.

Then again and again.

He heard him racing after, the snapping branches and rustling of leaves. His fear warred with the adrenaline. The darkness was absolute. The occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the path ahead.

The rain pelted his face and body, stinging like tiny needles. He kept up his frantic pace, breathing hard. Tears blurred his vision, but he kept going. He had to get away. His chest hurt from breathing so hard.

He heard the sounds a ways back. He took random turns and ran harder until he recognized an empty clearing of light-colored sand.

A land pit.

He jumped inside and ran again.

He ran and ran until he just couldn't do it anymore.

He didn't recognize the surrounding woods at all. He collapsed to his knees and rolled onto his back. His limbs spread out, his chest rose and fell from the effort. He looked up at the sky where the rain was still falling hard. The water was getting in his mouth, but his saliva felt thick.

He spat and sat up. He crawled beneath a cluster of broad, wide-brimmed leaves. He tried to dry his face and hands. He didn't have much, but he had a light tube in his pocket. He shook it and examined his surroundings.

The chemiluminescence couldn't reach past the dreary gloom of the forest. He noticed it was one of the green lights. He tightened his cloak around him and did his best to wipe the tears away.

Chapter Text

I’m lost in a raging storm again.

I’m lost in the blizzard and mayhem.

I cannot see the way,

but I know I cannot stay.

I’m lost in a raging storm again.

Varian stopped his humming and pressed against the trunk of a tree as a shadowcat prowled past him. He held his breath as it passed by, he let it out in a rush as it passed out of sight.

Varian wasn’t sure what made him hum nervously in situations like this. He was seemingly doing it without realizing. He remembered the snowy trek to the Coronan castle all those months ago. How his fear and anxiety had him nearly singing at the top of his voice.

But he'd been alone back then. He almost felt like he’d needed the sound of his own voice to fill the silence.

But out here, he was not alone. The cacophony of chirping birds, rustling leaves, and distant animal calls that filled the air were proof of that.

And yet... the shadows seemed to grow thicker around him, and Varian was whistling.

Varian had run off into the dark cursed woods like the very very smart kid everyone always said he was.

Despite the song, the storm had passed early in the morning, leaving the Forest of No Return a muddy boggy mess.

He didn’t have much. He’d left his bandolier and backpack behind. But he did have his cloak, goggles, boots, and a few miscellaneous potions in his pockets.

Nothing particularly useful. Another light, an acid vial, and the dregs of the truth potion…

There was barely any left. He didn’t like to look at that, so he shoved it back in his pocket.

The fight from the previous night was still fresh in his mind. He thought he had long gotten used to feeling hurt and betrayed.

Varian wished he’d at least had the presence of mind to bring Ruddiger with him. Ruddiger was probably furious with him. He was going to have to apologize.

As he stumbled through the forest, his thoughts reluctantly turned to Hector. He missed him, despite everything. Missed his guidance, bizarre wisdom, support.

It was growing harder and harder to maintain his grip on the anger and bitterness.

But then again, maybe not. Maybe it was better that he left before Hector had a chance to hurt him again. Maybe it was a good thing that he ran away, like a coward. After all, if Hector really believed he killed his dad, he was bound to abandon him eventually.

Varian shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. He was almost fifteen years old! Too old to run away from his problems like this. He should have stayed and talked and argued like a grown-up. But he couldn't help it. He’d been scared, confused, lost.

"Not as lost as I am now." Varian muttered and kicked a rock out of the path.

Varian trekked up a steep incline. He’d spent all morning hiking to higher ground. His heart pounded in his chest, and his legs ached as he climbed the ridge. He looked out to the vast expanse of the open woods, desperately searching for any sign of the exit. All he saw was an endless horizon stretching before him. He strained his eyes, but there was nothing to see. He turned in all directions but still nothing. 

Finally, he slid down to the ground. He needed a new plan. He couldn't just keep wandering aimlessly through the forest.

He needed to find a way to navigate other than just the sun… and he had to find the group again. Even if he didn’t forgive Hector, he needed to at least retrieve his things… and Ruddiger, of course.

With a deep breath, Varian forced himself to stand up and keep moving. Maybe he should follow the river? The river might lead him out.

If Hector was also heading for the exit, they might cross paths along the way.

But Varian knew deep down that his uncle was not heading for the exit.

No… he was certainly out there searching for him.

He ignored the ache in his chest and kept moving.

He made a few discoveries throughout the morning.

He found a horseshoe sticking out of the mud on a fading trail.

He found a thread-bare banner from some long-lost kingdom or band. He thought he could make out a lightning bolt on it. He fashioned it into a sack.

He discovered a cluster of flint rocks and pocketed a few.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a rapidly flying, fluttering, cloud of dark creatures. He followed them to some caves in the bluffs. Varian climbed up and crept into the dark cave, his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the narrow entrance. The air was thick with the pungent smell of guano, and the high screeching echoes of bats reverberated through the chamber. He moved carefully, avoiding the fluttering creatures as best he could, mindful not to disturb them too much. He quickly gathered handfuls of the dung, meticulously stashing them in his pockets and makeshift sack.

He had a vague plan forming... he hoped it would actually come to fruition and he hadn't just done something so disgusting for no reason.

He trudged on.

Varian stopped in his tracks as his boot hit something with a flash of bright color.

He almost thought he’d stumbled upon another strange magic and took a quick step back.

His eyes widened at the sight before him. The trees gave way to an open clearing, filled with golden daffodils.

Each slender stem stood tall, topped with petals of golden yellow. Their delicate petals, like the flickering rays of a thousand tiny suns, danced in the gentle breeze. The rains had touched the meadow, leaving behind a glistening veil of dewdrops on the flowers. The droplets clung to the petals like liquid diamonds, magnifying their brilliance and lending an ethereal quality to the scene. As he ventured closer, his senses were overwhelmed by the scent that emanated from the daffodils. The air was infused with a sweet fragrance as if nature herself had blended honey, sunshine, and fresh rain.

Why did everything in this forest have to be so dreadful?

Varian pictured a magic golden flower printed on delicate age-worn parchment back at home, then that led to thoughts of long shining hair with the same properties… Varian’s face scrunched and took another step back. They were unnatural and unseasonable. They made him suspicious. He didn’t like looking at them and their pollen made his nose itch and his eyes water.

But there was no way around it, he had to go through it.

He kicked a foot through the patch and watched the petals fall to the ground. He grunted and trekked on. The yellow pollen clung to his pant legs. It filled the air and Varian had to stop from a sneezing fit. He pulled his shirt up over his face and wiped the tears from his irritated eyes.

He felt lightheaded and dizzy. He was nearly out of the flowers and back into the dark woods when a thorny bush caught the leg of his pants.

Varian stopped and looked down.

It was a rose bush. It was just at the end of the clearing, and the circle of daffodils were brown and withered where the rose bush was choking them out.

Varian bent down to extract the thorns from the leg of his pants. When he stood back up, he had a deep crimson rose in his hand.

——————☽☉☾——————

The mines had been hard that day. Varian’s hands had gone raw and blistered. For the hundredth time, he wished for his lab gloves.

His muscles ached and his lips were cracked from thirst.

Varian always knew he’d be made to pay back all the damage he’d done to Corona. He knew that when he was doing it. And he understood no nation on the continent didn’t impose forced labor on their prisoners to offset the costs of their imprisonment… perhaps that was why Corona favored execution so much.

Varian understood all that, what he didn’t understand was why they were mining for these ores!

Sure, Corona was famous for gold and gilding. Its metallurgy was renowned, but it was still dumb! There were rich crystal veins throughout the Coronan landscape. They were all but untouched!

He could turn those crystals into any number of revolutionary inventions. Why were they wasting time when they could be improving the world with the proper application of a few simple alchemical principles?

Varian rubbed his cheekbone where he’d gotten a sharp slap for pointing this out to a guard.

He hoped it didn’t bruise. It wasn't a good idea to look weak in the dungeons.

The guards were struggling against Axel as usual. The stallion was rearing up and thrashing against the guards. He bit and kicked at them, despite the harsh bit and hobbles he’d been equipped with.

Varian knelt down to stare at his reflection in a puddle on the floor of the cell block.

“Best keep it moving kid,” he heard the low grumble of Bernsie Stabbington as he stepped around him.

Varian felt himself being lifted up off the stones by Patchy Stabbington. He gave him a small nudge back toward his own cell.

Dale sang a dreary dirge as he swayed on his feet and entered his cell without any fuss.

“Chin up, Stripes.” Lady Caine said as she passed him by. “It's nothing compared to the Prison Barge of the Lost Sea.”

Her expression was sad and distant for a moment as she squeezed the sleeve of rose tattoos on her arm. Varian knew that was where they’d kept her father after they carted him off when she was a kid. They’d had a few whispered talks about it late at night. In some ways, her father was just as out of reach as his own.

She cleared her throat, pushed back her shoulders, and stepped forward. She whistled and Axel settled down. She held out a hand and the guard reluctantly handed over the horse’s reigns and she led him inside their cell without further incident.

Her words triggered something in his mind. When he returned to his own cell, he hurriedly examined the etchings on his cell wall.

He barely registered it when Andrew was tossed in the cell behind him.

“Maybe you should have gone back to where you came from!” the guard sneered.

“I’m Saporian, you lickspittle milksop! We came from here!” Andrew shot back.

The cell door slammed shut.

When everyone had been securely locked away, the chambermaid was let in to distribute their stale bread for the evening. Friedborg was her name. As usual, when she was done, she lingered in front of the Stabbington cell.

Varian ignored the food and water he’d been so desperate for earlier. He sat on the cell floor as the cold stones sapped the feeling and warmth away from his legs.

He didn’t care.

He stared up at the markings on the wall. Not the calculations and balanced chemical equations. The ticks and tallies he’d made to mark the passage of time.

He recounted them over and over again, heart sinking in realization.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Varian closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself.

Who would he get this time? The persuasive and cool Andrew Champanier or the strident and volatile Hubert?

Varian was nearly too exhausted to care.

“Here, pal.” Andrew was offering him two loaves of bread.

Ah. He’s going to play it like that. Varian didn’t look at him. He only stared down at the bread.

Andrew mad a face, must have sensed his suspicion.

“You need to eat if you’re going to survive. I’m gonna need you to get out of here. So, you need to survive.” He said simply.

Varian took the bread.

“What’s the matter?” He asked when Varian didn’t start eating right away. “You alright?” He put a hand on his forehead to feel for a fever.

“It’s… Or I guess it would be… No, it still is—” Varian took a shaky breath. “Today’s my dad’s birthday.”

“Oh, Buddy….”

Varian was already sobbing by the time Andrew had pulled him into his arms.

“Shhh, come on, friend,” Andrew said speaking low and soothing. “We’re gonna get you out of here soon.”

Varian couldn’t speak.

“We’re gonna get out and build that new hot air balloon, remember?”

Varian sniffled and tried to let the purely intellectual exercise distract his mind.

“We’re gonna free all the people and animals subjected to Coronan oppression.”

He gave a twitch of the lip at the thought of the man’s strange views on animal welfare.

“We’ll get out and make everything right. We’ll take this nation back for New Saporia.”

Varian knew those historical claims were dubious at best. Manipulative political propaganda at worst. But Andrew was running his fingers through his hair and Varian found his breathing slowing down.

“We’ll have these spoiled fat island folks who turned their backs on you mining for us one day. Make the island serve the country, not have the whole damn country serve the island.” Varian usually never listened to Andrew’s unhinged rantings, but here and now he didn’t have the energy to argue or criticize.

“We will win this war. There’s no going back for either of us, now. We have to win. No matter what it takes. We have to make them pay.”

Varian had his eyes clenched shut.

“We’ll make them all pay,” Andrew repeated softly.

When Varian opened them up again, he was looking up at the Saporian rose symbol etched on the cell wall.

In the light of the morning, it would look like the desperate scratchings of a man gone half-mad. But tonight, it looked like salvation.

——————☽⬤☾——————

The memory was a bitter one.

He’d been in a bad place. But he wouldn’t have really gone through with it, right?

Right?

Certainly not now… But back then…

He remembered when the next day came, and they disagreed about methods. Varian got a pewter bowl chucked at his head for his lack of conviction. That type of cycle continued for weeks and weeks…

But what if he hadn’t been abducted from the dungeons? Would he have given in and leant his weapons to Andrew’s cause despite what might happen to the rest of Corona?

His mind came up blank. He just wasn’t sure.

He frowned at the rose still in his hand. He dipped down and plucked up a marigold as well. He slid both flowers into the flask with the last dregs of the purple truth serum in it. He sealed them back up and re-clipped it to his belt.

He tightened the cloak around his shoulders and pressed on.

After a while of walking, Varian stopped to make a sparse meal out of acorns and berries. There was something cold and lonely about eating by himself after all this time.

At this point he could admit that he fiercely missed Ruddiger and Hector. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to be unsafe. He just wanted to get out of here and go back to his own fire and listen to old stories. Eat a warm meal and doze off feeling safe and warm. The pollen must have been lingering, he had to wipe his watery eyes again.

Maybe was okay that Hector didn’t believe in him. Dad never believed in him either… He felt an old familiar rush to prove himself.

As he ventured deeper into the treacherous terrain, the ground beneath his feet began to tremble. He heard a distant rumble. A thick mist enveloped the surroundings, adding an eerie cloak to the scene. Emerging cautiously from the dense fog, Varian's gaze widened in awe. Raw energy made the ground quiver, each tremor a warning of the power within.

Boiling pools of iridescent liquid dotted the terrain, their vibrant hues a stark contrast to the desolate surroundings. Streams of sulfuric steam danced and twisted, rising from the depths with haunting grace. The pungent scent of minerals and earth filled the air, leaving a metallic taste on Varian's tongue. From the depths of the bubbling field, geysers erupted. Towering pillars of scalding water and steam burst, reaching towards the sky. The geysers erupted in a chaotic rhythm, unpredictable and violent. The intense heat from the geysers distorted the air, creating shimmering mirages that played tricks on his eyes.

Varian gave himself a moment to take it all in... This was perfect!

Varian leached out the guano he'd collected earlier with some of the water that wasn't boiling and wood ash, then he precipitated it out. He burned charcoal in a small clay kiln he built. He wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled at his new supplies of pure crystal saltpeter and charcoal.

He shed most of his supplies and cloak, leaving only his pants and boots. He put his goggles on and wrapped his shirt around his face, over his mouth and nose. He put his gloves back on and squared his shoulders. He carefully studied the geysers, trying to determine a pattern before he sprinted into the field. He cheered in excitement as he spied the bright yellow sulfur crystals.

“Brimstone!” Varian was more than accustomed to the disgusting sulfuric scent, so he was not bothered. He gathered as much as he could dislodge and carry in his hands. He felt the ground rumble again and quickly scurried back to safety. He made several trips, dodging the deadly scalding water each time, until he finally had enough.

He crushed all the ingredients down to a grainy powder using a hollow rock as his makeshift mortar. He diluted it with water, it formed a paste, and he carefully smeared it onto flat rocks, allowing the sun to dry and harden it.

When he eventually scraped the dried substance off the rocks, he grounded it down into a grainy powder. All the effort without his proper equipment made his arms and hands ache. He had long used up the light from his test tubes, so he dumped them out and filled them up with handfuls of the stuff. He did the same with the cloth sack.

After a few hours of work, Varian had test tubes and pockets full of black powder.

He gave a relieved sigh and took one more look at the beautiful field of boiling geysers. He turned and ventured back into the woods.

There was no point in trying to go all the way through it, after all. It’s not like the way out was just beyond or anything…

He kept walking and walking, trying to follow the direction of the moss on the trees, but after a while, he realized he had walked in a circle.

"Of course, you idiot!" he exclaimed. "The trees move! They wouldn't have all the moss on one side!"

There was one spot where they seemed to form a perfect circle like a fairy circle.

He kicked the trunk of the nearest tree and hissed at the immediate pain that shot up through his foot.

All that accomplished was he had to walk on with a sore foot.

He wandered up another ridge to see if he could see a stretch of open wood. Where even was he? Closer to the exit? He couldn’t tell. Should he press on? Should he double back?

Varian heard the sound of twigs crunching and leaves rustling, it snapped Varian out of his thoughts.

Suddenly, he heard a series of growls and sniffs. He froze in place, his heart racing.

Then he saw them: wolves.

A few of them slunk out of the shadows and slowly circled around where he sat in the clearing. More and more followed. He realized they were all much bigger than the normal genus and species of wolves. They were slayer wolves, and they all had their eyes locked on him.

Varian's mind raced as he tried to remember everything he had ever read about slayer wolves. He knew they usually didn’t approach humans unless they were hungry. But these creatures looked very hungry. Like that, they wouldn't hesitate to attack. Varian tried to keep his fear in check as he slowly stood and backed away, but the wolves closed in on him, with teeth bared.

His heart pounded, and his mind raced with unhelpful nonsense.

They don’t want me because I’m a criminal or alchemist. They just want me because I’m meat.

They are stronger because they’re a pack and I’m all alone.

Life wasn’t fair.

He thought he’d already understood that but…

He took a slow careful step back.

Then another.

And another.

The largest slayer wolf stood at the front of the pack. Its black fur stood on end, it growled with its eyes locked on him.

Varian whipped around and took off in a dead sprint. He heard loud barks behind him, then the sounds of the pack running after him.

Varian's heart raced as he ran through the dense forest, his eyes wide with fear, and the rush of the wind made them sting. He heard the barks and howls of the wolves grow louder, closing in on him with each passing moment. He knew he couldn't outrun them forever.

Panic fueled his every step as he desperately looked around.

Varian spotted a cluster of tall trees and veered towards them. His legs strained against exhaustion. He grabbed hold of the rough bark, propelling himself upwards with a surge of adrenaline. His hands scraped against the tree trunk as he ascended, branches whipping past him in a blur.

As he reached what he thought was a safe height, Varian clung tightly to a thick branch, his chest heaved with exertion. The wolves circled the base of the tree, their snarls and growls filled the air.

There was a dead, hollowed-out tree, falling apart and decaying, but still somehow standing adjacent to his perch.

A wolf leaped up and managed to get a front leg over his branch and snapped at him. Varian cried out and kicked the wolf off the branch.

His hands were trembling as he withdrew his newest creation from his pocket. He threw a glass container and a fabric sack of black powder down into the hollowed-out trunk of the tree. He had to strain to hear the shatter of glass over the barks and snarls of the wolves.

A set of fangs narrowly missed his forearm.

Desperately, he tore off the fabric of his shirt from where he’d wrapped it up around his head. He frantically and clumsily ripped the fabric away from the part that was too soaked in sweat. He even clawed the dead bark off the tree. He desperately struck the old horseshoe with his chunk of flint to try to make sparks.

A slayer wolf’s claws caught his pant leg and pulled away the fabric. Varian felt the burning pain but refused to look back.

He struck it again and a few sparks landed true. Varian blew on them until a flame erupted. He heard one wolf whine from the smell, but the rest were undeterred.

Varian wrapped the loose fabric around his chunk of flint and felt the singe of the flame on his arm past where his gloves covered.

He hissed at the pain but tossed the bundle over into the top of the hollow stump.

Varian leaped off the branch. He stumbled and impacted hard on one of the wolves on his way down, but he didn’t care. He was sprinting away with all his strength.

Something raked across his arm up near his shoulder. He cried out from the pain but kept running.

One more beat of his heart and the hollow stump exploded into smithereens.

Varian felt the heat on his back and the force of the explosion pushed him forward. He scrambled to stay on his feet. His ears were ringing from the blast. He had squeezed his eyes closed, but when he looked back, he saw the hollow trunk was now a pillar of flames. The tree next to it had tipped over and was burning up too. The surrounding brush and trees were also caught up in the flames.

He’d gotten a good distance away and climbed up onto higher ground. He squinted his eyes and looked back. He could see several of the wolves lying still on the ground, and others were running away as fast as they could. Worst of all, a few of them were sniffing all around. The large black one looked all around before it dipped its head and padded forward, the remaining pack followed.

Varian did not linger; he kept moving as quickly as he could manage.

When his hearing returned, the forest seemed unnaturally silent, like every bird and insect in the area had fled in fear of him. He felt the hot liquid drip down his leg into his socks, and the same sensation dripping down from his shoulder to his arm. He didn't stop moving. Varian squeezed his eyes shut and gathered his cloak all around him. He repeated to himself it was just sweat and did not investigate further.

His boots slid to a stop on the rocky terrain, and he cast a quick glance behind him. He couldn't see any wolves, but he felt a prickling sensation up his spine as if they were hot on his trail. There was no doubt they could follow his scent. He looked around and saw that he had run right up to a steep cliffside. It was a solid wall of stone, and the only way forward was through an arch of red stone. Varian blinked in shock as his frantic mind caught up to what his eyes were seeing.

Inside the arch, an eerie wall of obsidian-black fire raged silently. Varian's heart pounded in his chest as he thought about magic.

Magic.

He squared his shoulders and glared at the black flames. He wasn't going to run. He was going to leap headfirst into it.

He steeled his resolve and took the leap.

He expected it to burn. For his skin to crack and peel. But it didn’t. It didn’t hurt him. It passed right through like it was nothing. It was just an illusion! The thoughts raced through his mind as he fell hard on to the ground on the other side of the flaming arch.

He grunted at the impact and stared up at the raging black fire that had scared him so much. He laughed in relief. It was just an illusion!

He had made it through unscathed. Magic didn't seem so scary here and now. It always felt so powerful and insurmountable, but it wasn't. He ran his hand through the black flame, and it felt cold. He pulled off one of his gloves so he could feel it with his skin. How strange... He couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. It was like the first time he saw a chemical reaction or the first time a machine he built whirred and moved like it was coming to life. It was wonderful and fascinating.

He found he wanted to put his other hand in. Wanted to take a sample. Make his own version, maybe modify it.

He had only just pulled his hand back from the fire when a set of long sharp fangs snapped together where his fingers were only a second before. He heard a growl as the rest of the face of the slayer wolf followed the muzzle out of the wall of flames.

A pair of yellow eyes focused on him, and Varian whirled around.

They were not nearly as deterred by the explosion and wall of fire as he thought they would be. His glove slipped from his grip and fell to the ground. He was running again, through the dark haunted forest, pursued by the bloodthirsty wolves.

Once again, he slid to a stop as he reached a rocky ridge right before a steep drop. He looked down and realized it was about a dozen feet to the ground below. Could he risk it? He heard the barks and growls behind him.

He felt like a fool, and he was going to die a fool.

No, he couldn't. If he died, he would never save his dad.

He couldn't die.

Today is the day for leaps of faith!

For half a heartbeat, he was weightless before the ground rushed up and smashed into him. He rolled with the impact and cut up his arms and ungloved hand.

The slayer wolves stood on the ridge, staring down at him. They would get him for sure. This was the end.

But no, they weren't following?

He didn't get a chance to feel relieved by that. It didn't make sense. Were they scared of the fall? No, they were bigger than he was. If he made it, then surely, they would too. Wolves loomed tall and still, staring down at him. Their gazes shifted through the darkness all around him in anxious fear. For just a few seconds, everything fell silent and still.

There was movement and shifting behind him. The wolves gave a yelp, tucked tail, and ran the other way. When Varian turned, what he saw was a huge mouth filled with giant white fangs. The putrid hot breath hit his face.

The Drexis, the Megachiroptera-Arachniflora, looming and monstrous. The creature's flower-like wings swayed slowly, a deceptive beauty that clashed with the horror of its presence.

Varian's stomach dropped as he locked eyes with the creature. He could feel its malevolence, a primal terror nearly rooted him to the spot. But he managed to stumble up to his feet before the creature lunged at him.

The first slash missed him by half a pace.

The second missed by an inch.

Then the third by a hair.

Varian swallowed down a scream before he ducked under the creature's wings and sprinted in the other direction. He scrambled up a tall pile of stone. His right foot stumbled on loose gravel, and the left got wrapped up in white spider silk. But he still managed to hoist himself up to the top, breathing hard.

In a flash, he took in the scene. There were three large monsters and about a dozen smaller ones. They seemed to be scuttling out of a dark cave on the other side of the clearing. More piles of rocks and the same spider webs were scattered about the landscape.

The large Drexis was still after him.

Varian watched in horror as it effortlessly scaled the near-vertical cliff face that he had only barely managed.

He shoved his hands into his pockets for something, anything he could use, but his hands came up empty.

The razor-sharp fangs, two creepy black hairy spider legs, and five terrible red compound eyes appeared over the rocky edge.

Varian swallowed.

Something black and large dropped down on the creature. Varian just caught a flash of polished steel.

The arachnid screeched, its legs scraped across the rocks, only just managing to keep its grip on the edge of the cliff.

Hector cut a swath through the furry back, to the spinnerets.

"Look away!" he called up in a hoarse voice.

Varian quickly averted his eyes.

It gave an ear-piercing screech and violent shudder. The Drexis' legs slipped, and Hector had to scramble up the back of the dying creature as it lost its grip on the rock wall and started to fall.

The first thing Varian saw was the black gloves and blade as Hector caught the edge of the rock.

Varian didn't think about it. He reached forward and helped pull him up.

Hector looked haggard. There were dark circles under his still purple-rimmed eyes. Hector kicked the creature’s legs the rest of the way off the cliff.

They looked at each other but didn't speak.

One of the larger creatures screeched, and they both looked back.

"This is why I need my own sword," Varian said flatly.

"Let's compromise." Hector reached for the strap across his chest.

Before Varian could blink, he had a gold-plated crossbow in his hands…? And his bandolier with some of his potions!

Hector slid a few feet down the boulders. "Stare down the sight bridge to aim. It's notched and cranked. Loose a bolt into its back on my signal."

With that, he let go of the ledge and dropped heavily right on top of the creature that had been climbing up to them.

"Wait!" Varian called in alarm.

It fell back but swiped at Hector with its claws.

He dodged and swung back at the creature with his sword.

Hector backed away, luring it away from Varian's perch with calculated steps.

"Now!"

Varian willed his hands to stop trembling. He aimed at the creature and lined up the sights.

He had to repeat the process when it lunged at Hector again.

It clamped it’s jaws down onto Hector's sword, and he held the blade in place, straining against the monstrous strength.

Varian pulled the trigger.

The string snapped. The device recoiled. He heard a monstrous screech.

"You got it!" Hector yelled up to him as he shook the monster's fangs loose.

Varian gave a small, shaky smile at that. This reminded him of Vardaros.

"Look away!" Hector warned again as he tipped it over.

And Varian did so, switching his focus to the smaller one nearest to him.

Varian picked off the enemies one by one with his different potions.

"Where are they coming from?" Hector shouted in frustration.

"The cave!" Varian shouted back and pointed over to where he'd spotted it earlier.

Hector cursed.

Varian gripped the one and only green potion on his bandolier.

"Hector! Flynnolium! Catch!"

He tossed it over to him, but it had gone wide.

Hector leaped, kicking off a Drexis, and caught it midair.

He took off towards the cave, dodging around the smaller scuttling creatures and sidestepping the long, thick strands of spiderwebs. He was doing his usual hack and slash as he dashed.

He smashed the glass against the lip of the cave and whirled around to sprint away.

Varian covered his ears.

Hector had gotten a good distance away but he was still bowled over by the blast. But he recovered quicker than the Drexis caught up in the explosion.

When the dust cleared, Varian could see from his perch that the cave had collapsed.

The explosion reverberated through the clearing, and the world was silent for only a few seconds before the enraged swarm of Drexis redoubled their attacks.

Only a couple of bolts were left for the crossbow. Varian did his best with them; he missed most of them and was ready to throw it down in frustration.

"This is Coronan!" he frowned as he noticed the shiny golden sun on the crank.

"Swiped it in Vardaros!" Hector called back up to him as he faced off against a Drexis about the size of a draft horse.

For me? Varian wrapped his hands around it.

"You have to get me a new one when we get to the Great Tree!" he called down to him.

Hector stopped, stunned. He looked back up at Varian with wide watery eyes.

“Are you—?"

The giant arachnid took the opportunity to bowl him over. Hector was forced to grapple with it on the ground.

"Pay attention!" Varian shouted at him.

Hector gave a snort and, with renewed strength, lifted the beast off its feet and flipped it clear over him.

He made quick work of the rest of the nest, and Varian helped from his position with his limited supply of potions.

There was more than one instance where Varian would glue down one of the Drexis charging at him or knock out the ones trying to leap up on him from behind.

Eventually, things fell silent. Varian surveyed the field of felled Drexis, strewn across the ground. He counted the numerous small ones and two large ones...

But wait. Weren't there...?

Then he felt a strange presence behind him.

It was the open mouth of a huge Drexis, rapidly closing in on him.

He dove back, which caused him to fall from the boulders. He hissed in pain at the fall, but the monstrous arachnid was already rapidly descending off the rocks in just a few quick paces of its scuttling spider legs.

The white fangs lunged out at him.

Varian squeezed his eyes shut.

A cold, viscous liquid splattered across his face and clothes.

He looked up and saw a metal blade covered in a strange green goo.

The Drexis gave a wet splutter and screech.

The blade drew back, and the creature tipped forward and collapsed dead.

Unfortunately, "forward" meant right on top of Varian.

The fall of the heavy weight knocked the breath out of him.

The strange green substance was maybe its blood? But the strange green color, temperature, and texture prevented his mind from really registering it as blood? He was grateful for that. The last thing he needed now was a fainting spell.

Hector rushed over to him, already dragging the creature off him.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to— No, I did mean to. But I didn't realize it would fall forward like that."

He was clearly still under the effects of the truth potion. He pulled it off and Varian straightened up.

He leaned forward with a cloth to wipe the slime off his face before he stopped abruptly and stood back up straight.

Varian looked up, and Hector looked down at him, almost fearfully. He had the cloth in one hand and his filthy sword still drawn on the other.

The absurdity of it all caught up with him at that moment.

Varian threw his head back and laughed.

He wasn’t sure what was more ridiculous: the sticky monster goo, the image of Hector looking like a kicked puppy, or the stupid way they were acting around each other.

It was probably actually the relief.

“We’re alive!” he proclaimed with a wide smile and laughed even harder.

But he wasn't the only one. Hector was also laughing. It didn't make any sense, but they laughed, and the sound of it drowned out the scary sounds of the forest and bog. Eventually, it died out.

“Varian, I—”

Varian held up his hands. “Here, help me up.”

Hector’s shoulders dropped in relief, and he hauled him back up to his feet and brushed off his face and shoulders.

“You good? You look like you haven’t slept,” Varian asked as he yanked on the webs still wrapped around his leg.

Hector gave an incredulous laugh.

“Me?” Hector asked slicing at the webs with a dagger. “Have you seen yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Take a look,” He gestured over to a nearby pond.

Varian limped over and peered inside. He looked at his reflection in the calm surface of the pond. He almost didn’t recognize what he saw. He looked older and wilder. He had charcoal stains all over his hands and arms. And random inky and green stains all over his bare chest and face. There was also the red scabbed over slashes on his shoulder and the blood had dried brown and crusty. His shirt was long gone and his once elegant and beautiful cloak and been stained, singed, and burned all over. There were holes burned and melted through his pant legs. The clothes all reeked of sulfur and burning. There were clear rings on his face where he had been wearing his goggles. Otherwise, the rest of his face was also stained in ash and green slime. The adrenaline he was still feeling made his eyes look wide and flitty.

“Oh.” He dropped the cloak and looked at his injured shoulder closer.

Hector hissed in shock. “I didn’t see those.”

“Even more under the webs,” he admitted.

"Better get you patched up then," he said, his voice calm, but his hands were anxiously opening and closing. Varian cast one last glance into the pond at the young man he barely recognized.

"'Kay."

When he was sufficiently patched up, they carefully picked their way back to the campsite. They walked in silence, but the strange noises of the woods didn't trouble him. Eventually, Hector took a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say—"

"How did you find me?"

“I followed the trail of fire and destruction. And here,” he handed him back his dropped lab glove.

“Oh, thanks.” Varian pulled it on.

“Don’t thank me, I—”

“There’s a shortcut over here. Come on.” Varian waved him over. He led them back towards the ring of black flames. Hector started at the sight of it, but Varian strode through fearlessly. He looked back to see Hector still hesitating.

“Come on, it’s fine. I promise.”

Hector gave a solemn nod and followed him through.

Varian didn’t even realize what he’d said until they were several paces away.

He relaxed as the adrenaline drained away. Hector seemed to fidget with his hands. And he kept looking over at him then back to the path.

“Varian, I’m a troubled man and—"

“What if we were a team from now on?” Varian cut him off.

“What?” Hector looked confused.

“You know, a team. We talk about stuff, work together, fight together, stick together, and make important decisions together.”

It looked like Hector was trying to absorb all that, so he pressed on.

“I understand that you’re older and more experienced than me or whatever… and you’re like my guardian, I guess. And we’re pretty different people. But I still think we should be a team.”

Hector stared off into the woods, mulling over his words. “Agreed.”

“Especially when there might be civilian casualties involved.” Varian pressed a little further.

“Yes.” Hector agreed. “And as for the blood—”

“I think you showed back there, you can help me avoid it.” Varian cut him off before he could twist it into an apology.

Hector looked even more uncomfortable.

“But… if you wanted to join a different team…” He looked back at him with exhausted eyes. As if waiting for an axe to fall.

“Nah,” Varian said easily. “But we are going to have to come up with a team name. It’s an important decision so we should include the others. Anyway…”

Varian pulled his glove off again and spat into his palm. He held it out to shake.

Hector looked tense and unsure before his shoulders fell in relief.

He gave a small smile and removed his glove and sword gauntlet and spat into his own hand.

They shook on it.

“Thank you.” Hector’s voice was rough. He had to clear his throat in the way he always did when he wanted to hide that he was getting choked up. “For that. I think we’ll be a good team… but I think there is one thing we have to actually talk about.”

Varian signed.

They found a spot on the edge of a cliff, that overlooked a valley as the sun dipped beneath the trees.

Dad’s ghost sat between them.

“I will save my Dad. I will never stop.” His tone was cold and dangerous. “I won’t let anyone stand in my way. Not even you.”

Hector’s eyes went wide at that. His expression was a controlled neutral. Varian hated this. But he needed him to understand.

“I won’t… try to stop you.” He said eventually.

Varian knew those were carefully chosen words.

“I’m going to prove you wrong.” Varian decided. “I’m going to do it. Do what no one else has ever done. I’m going to show you.” He kept his voice steadfast and sure. He didn’t put it like a promise or a fancy oath. He just said it like it was true. Because it would be. One day.

Hector nodded but noticeably did not say anything.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me now.”

The tension drained out of Hector’s form. “I would love to be proven wrong. And far from standing in your way; I will help you however I can.”

Varian smiled and rose to his feet. "That's good because I'm probably going to need a lot of help."

"No doubt," Hector stood as well.

They started back down the path.

They had only just come into sight of camp when the animals ran out to meet them. The bearcats tackled him to the ground. They were purring loudly and nuzzling up against him affectionately.

Nótt rested his head on him, trapping him in place. Between the rhinoceros on his chest and his laughter, Varian was soon out of breath.

But he pushed them off, his face falling in seriousness.

There was something he needed to do.

He rose to his feet, and Hector made the others make way for him.

Varian walked up to where Ruddiger stood on a rock, glaring, with his little arms crossed.

"Ruddiger! I'm so sorry I ran off without you!" he fell to his knees, head dropped in shame.

The raccoon gave a short chitter and turned his back on Varian. His ringed tail swished in anger.

"Buddy, please!"

He heard Hector laugh with the others as he started a fire. It filled the clearing with warmth and light.

Chapter Text

Hector was still sleeping.

Varian nudged him with his foot.

He groaned but kept his eyes shut. “We under attack?”

“No.”

“Tent on fire?”

“No.”

“Someone dying?”

“No.”

“Then it can wait ‘til morning.” Hector rolled back over.

“Good thing it is morning!” Varian pulled open the flap of the tent, letting the morning light stream in.

Another groan.

“Of all your father’s sins… the greatest of all was raising a morning person.”

“Hector, I call on you to fulfill your oath!”

One of his eyes cracked open then squeezed shut again.

“Brand me oath-breaker and let the stars turn their light away from my wicked soul. Just let me sleep.”

“Aw, come on, Uncle Hector.” Varian felt the disappointment settle in. “You promised...”

It must have come through in his voice because Hector soon dragged himself up, cursing all the while. After a breakfast that seemed to last an eternity, Varian frowned at a familiar taught string and lever.

“What’s this?”

“You don’t know?” Hector teased.

“I know what the crossbow is,” he crossed his arms. “But I thought you were going to teach me the sword.”

“I didn’t say anything about sword fighting.” He sounded pleased with himself.

“Hector.” Varian glared.

“Listen, I’ll make you an authentic Selenese war bow when we get back home. But this requires less arm strength in the meantime. A sword is an excellent force multiplier but you’re smaller than most of your opponents will be. And it would take years to grant the strength and skill to effectively wield a polearm. And it would require lots of modification if you wanted to use it while mounted.” He gestured over to Ruddiger who was gnawing on an apple pit. “And you would be severely disadvantaged if you tried to use a strength-based weapon like a hammer, club, mace, or cudgel. You should focus on the range attacks. It plays to your existing strength set of chucking potions at people.”

Varian blinked. That might have been the most words he had ever heard the man say at one time.

“But what if someone gets in up close?” He argued. “Shouldn’t I know what to do in that kind of situation?”

Hector looked down at him. Reluctance was as clear on his face as the mark across his nose.

“Let me see your staff,” he said with a sigh. Hector accepted it from him and held it out in one hand. “It is well balanced… and sturdy…”

His shoulders fell in defeat. “We could… practice some blocks and parries with your staff,” he said as if he were admitting to a great crime.

“Yes!” Varian cheered.

“Are you right or left-handed?” Hector asked, handing the staff back.

“Both,” Varian said pleased as he passed the staff back and forth between his hands.

Hector scoffed. “I should have known. Your dad was too. Lemme see if I can remember any of his old training techniques, but you ought to practice left-handed to throw people off. But, as I said, we’ll focus on the bow for now.”

Varian wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “But when I grow up, I could be as big as my dad!” he argued. “I can do it!”

“Look. It’s like this… we’re a team so we should balance our skills.” Hector looked like he was racking his brain. “If you are trying to create a uh… a pH-balanced solution, and it’s already basic,” he drew his own sword, “Would you add even more… base? No, you would add something more… er, acidic.” He gestured back to the crossbow.

It was clumsy, and his alchemical knowledge was quite limited. But it was heartfelt, and Varian was genuinely touched.

He sighed in defeat. “Okay, so how do you crank this?”

Hector showed him how to crank and shoot the crossbow, and over the next few days, Varian worked hard on it day and night. Hector also showed him how to make the bolts for it, as well as how to tip and fletch them so they would fly straight.

They’d have to find some more feathers soon!

Varian was starting to get the hang of it by the time the exit of the Forest of No Return was in sight. He wasn’t a marksman by any means, but having his own weapon was a relief. The weight in his hands and slung over his shoulder was a comfort. And he eyed the arrows in the quiver. He couldn’t wait to start modifying them.

Varian needed a new cloak. The one he’d gotten in Vardaros had been scorched and tattered up in the forest with all the explosions and monster attacks.

Hector disappeared into the forest for an evening with Hjúki and Bil. He returned later on carrying a slayer wolf over his shoulders. A few days later, and a process he couldn't watch, and Varian had a black fur cloak.

He was grateful for that, as the weather was getting colder and colder with each passing day.

When they left the Forest of No Return, Varian breathed a sigh of relief. It almost reminded him of leaving Corona behind.

Hector insisted they stop to bury that random skeleton they’d found at the beginning of the forest.

Varian didn't really get why Hector seemed so affected by this. He had a strange air of solemnity as he dug and marked the grave.

Hector taught him a prayer in a strange language he identified as ancient Selenese.

He’d said they were the last lunar rites. With the prayer, the Moon would let their souls live among the stars.

He’s not thinking of the random stranger. Varian realized suddenly. He’s thinking about Dad.

It still hurt that Hector didn’t believe Dad could be saved, but the anger was overshadowed by the shame.

Varian couldn’t help but feel that if he hadn’t done what he’d done, or if he’d succeeded in undoing it all, they all might have had a tearful reunion instead of this. Varian had been so absorbed in his own pain he didn’t realize that Hector was also in mourning.

It was hard to think of grown-ups as real people sometimes. Especially the ones he admired. They could be selfish and angry as well as kind and considerate. And he’d just have to accept that about his dad and uncle.

His mind briefly conjured images of a princess, a lady-in-waiting, and a rogue. But he pushed those thoughts away and shook his head.

Hector asked Varian to promise him he’d do this for him when he died. Varian kicked him in the shin and told him he was being stupid. Like anything could kill Hector.  

Hector fell asleep first for once.

They’d been reading his alchemy book together and Varian was explaining various concepts when Hector dropped off.

Varian wasn’t offended though. Hector had done more to understand alchemy for him than anyone else ever had. Emulsion was a dull topic anyway. Hjúki was already snoring.

He had his lights hanging from his staff propped up nearby. The string of lights painted the sides of the tent in pink, blue, and yellow lights.

Varian watched as the text on the page grew blurry, and he began to doze.

It seemed like the blue light grew stronger for only a moment.

Hector sat up suddenly.

He stared forward into space for a few seconds.

He looked down at his hands, and nodded when his eyes landed on the tattoo on the back of his hand. Then he looked around the tent.

“Hector?” Varian asked.

He started.

Hector looked surprised to see him there. He looked at him up and down. He seemed like he was struggling for what to say.

“Yes?” he said after a pause. His face fell as if confused to hear his own voice. He even cleared his throat.

“Are you okay?” Varian grew concerned. There was something off about the way Hector looked at him... a lack of recognition.

“Yes...” he said unconvincingly as he stood up unsteadily and stuck his head out of the tent. He looked up at the sky.

“Where is this?” he asked, looking back at Varian.

“What?”

“What is our relative location?”

“What are you talking about? We’re on the edges of the Forest of No Return remember?”

“How far are we from the Matron’s Mountains?” he asked.

“What?”

“The boarder of Ingvarr. The Matron’s Mountains,” he repeated patiently.

“But we aren’t going there?” Varian reminded him.

“If you had to hazard a guess.” he prompted.

“Oh. I guess maybe 30 days for us?”

“So close... How can that be?” Hector muttered under his breath. “All four. The castle, the port town, the golden light, now here… Fascinating. And this one’s not alone.”

“Hector, what is going on?” Varian felt his panic rising. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he said dismissively. He looked himself over and even probed his wounds with a detached curiosity. He walked out of the tent; the flap fell behind him. Varian reluctantly stood up from the nice warm bedding and followed him out into the night.

Was he sleepwalking? Sleep talking?

Hector looked shocked at Nótt sleeping there, before he started to dig through their luggage.

Varian took a deep breath. He grabbed Hector by the shoulders and shook him.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” he shouted.

“One moment,” he said disinterested. “I am almost done.”

Hector didn’t even look at him, he pushed his hands away and took the map from the bag. He stood up and walked away.

“Please…”

He examined the map and stared off into the north.

Varian was about to try to wake him again when Hector gave a few quick nods. The map fell loose from his grip and Hector’s knees gave out from under him. Hector fell forward on the ground. Hard.

“Hector!” Varian cried and rushed forward.

Hector was back up in a rush, looking around in a panic.

“Where—? What—? Varian?” he huffed, and Varian hugged him tightly.

“What happened?” he asked disoriented as Varian pulled back to look him over.

“I think you were sleepwalking.” Varian felt a rush of relief, almost so much so that it came out in a laugh.

“I don’t sleepwalk…” Hector said sounding confused.

“You might, and not even realize it,” Varian suggested. “Has he ever done that before?” he directed the question at Bil and Nótt, who had been watching on in confusion.

Both shook their heads in the negative.

“Perhaps it was the ghosts from the forest, and I was possessed,” he suggested.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Varian argued.

“Yes, there are. I told you I’d introduce you to some one day.” Hector stood up and rubbed his head. “Did I do anything bad?”

Varian shook his head. “You were just worried about where we were. And you didn’t recognize anything. What do you know about the Matron’s Mountains?”

“In Ingvarr?” he asked. Then scooped up the fallen map and handed it to him. “They brush up against Kreston Loch. They are made up by the Valkyries Vanguards, the Sister’s Shields, Princess’s Peaks, and… the Seat of the Spire…” he broke off looking troubled all of a sudden.

“What is it?” Varian asked.

Hector shook the thoughts away. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. So, we were in the middle of the chapter on emulsion?”

Chapter Text

Mother and Father had lived at the base of the painted canyons of Koto for centuries, accumulating unique bird specimens for their most captivating collection! Unsuspecting human beings were drawn to their little clearing like moths to a flame.

They had only just reformed their little sanctuary after they were rather unceremoniously sent back to their home dimension a few months back. Their most abundant aery had been dismally dwindled down to only a few feathered friends since they’d made their return to this plane of existence. They'd sworn that if they ever encountered that crazy Quetzal, her magpie maidservant, or any of that garbage gaggle ever again, they'd be punitively plucked before being put on display in the menagerie. 

Nothing seemed to have changed much in their absence. The Kotoan travelers rushed about in their lavish clothes, the Equisian ones were only too eager to examine their exotic collection, and the rare Coronan was usually gullible enough to not need much finessing.

They’d heard news of the King of Koto’s birthday. They heard news of the Coronan princess’s crew continuing to pick their way across the continent. There were tales of a one-handed performer out on tour, and even that King Trevor’s son was finally ready to settle down and get married after all this time.

Of most concern, they had heard some rumors from far and wide that the black rocks had taken further root in the region. Mother hoped they could avoid detection from the being yanking on those particular strings of fate. She was far more mighty than them. They could not hope to comprehend her machinations. Though they were a distant kind of kin, ones as small as she and her partner were well advised to evade the notice of the great ones like her. They could only hope the chaos she caused would displace more humans so they might tumble into their trap.

They went about their normal day, feeding and grooming their birds, sorting through the growing supply of possessions they had left behind, all while keeping an eye towards the edge of their tiny domain, waiting.

Always waiting.

It was always sunny and mild in their clearing, even as the trees around them fell bare, the ones in the clearing stayed a steadfast green. Even when bitter cold winds shook the forest, the air in their clearing was always gentle and pleasant-smelling.

Like their home, they maintained a pleasing exterior appearance. Noble and jolly. Bright colors and finery. Stylish and a bit silly. Heavens know, they’d never get anyone if they appeared as they actually were.

Today, the air seemed to buzz in anticipation, like the forest was holding its breath.

They had been sipping tea in the late afternoon when they heard the grunts and shouts of alarm when a human fell into their clearing.

Today it appeared to be a rather unremarkable individual. A large oafish looking man.

He rubbed his head from the impact and looked around in confusion.

He was a large man dressed head to toe in black and wore brigandine or gambeson. He had animal fangs pierced through his ears. His eyes were a strange green color, that seemed to catch the light unnaturally, but also dark and flinty. He got up quickly for such a hard fall and immediately looked at them with suspicion.

“He has a dark and dull look. Would probably have rather un-lustrous plumage.” Mother whispered to Father.

“Defect about the nose,” Father pointed out. “Would probably have a cracked beak.”

“Eagle-eyed observation, Father.” She squeezed his hand.

“Oi! You there!” the man called out to them.

“Ornery as well...”

He approached the tea table. “What is this place? What is going on?”

“You seem to have happened upon our little piece of paradise,” Father cooed.

“Our relaxing refuge.” Mother added.

The black-clad man still looked at them with suspicion. He seemed to be at a loss for words.

Suddenly, a loud rustling distracted all of them as a few large forms emerged from the surrounding brush. Some of the most unusual beasts they’d ever seen pushed out into the clearing. A huge horned grey thing, two smaller carnivorous-looking creatures and a completely common raccoon came into view.

“There you all are,” the big buzzard said with relief. “But wait. Where’s Varian?”

The raccoon chittered a reply, but the grey beast shied back from the clearing, scared by all the magic held within. The carnivores were alternating between growling and hissing at them.

The braver one approached growling and snapping all the while.  

No good. Animals were always such spoilsports. And they made for such boring birds.

Father grabbed up a scone from the toadstool tea table. The pastry was laced with exotic nightshade and held it out toward the snarling beast, closing in on them.

The feline-ursine sniffed at the scone, eyeing them with suspicion. Finally, with narrowed eyes, the beast’s ears flattened back its head as it opened its mouth for the scone.

There was a flash of light blue and other bright colors and Father yelped in pain from a light blow to his wrist as the scone bounced down to the dirt.

“No!” she heard a modulated voice call out.

She followed the strange lights and saw they hung from a staff. The colors reflected on a polished surface of an eerie metal mask and a long lustrous black fur cloak. The small figure wore a bandolier packed with colorful test tubes and flasks.

For the first time in decades, both Mother and Father were at a loss for words.

“Salutations, Sir—” Father started.

“Sorry ‘bout that. They have a particular diet,” he said. His tone was hard to decipher from under the mask, but he didn’t sound very sorry.

“There you are!” The first one called out. The glowing one walked over towards him, though his movements were cautious, and he never seemed to turn his back on them. He dragged the snarling ursine feline away.

“Now there is a strange specimen…” Father whispered to her.

“Excellent… I love when we can get two birds with one stone,” Mother responded.

Their guests were chatting about some inane nonsense.

“—bioluminescent mushrooms!” The masked one spoke excitedly. “I’m going to crossbreed them with the pupshrooms!”

“I will give you a hundred golden crowns if you promise to never do that,” the big one said exasperated.

“But it’s an amazing idea!”

“Welcome, you two!” Father called out to them. “You are surely serendipitously timely for tea!”

The pair of them simply stared back at them.

“Tea? Isn’t it a bit late for that?” The bigger human asked as he attempted to shepherd the whole crowd of beasts and rodents and teenagers away from them.

“It’s fine, you’re a night owl anyway.” The smaller human responded. He moved back towards them, head tilted in curiosity.

“I doubt that very much,” Father muttered. “I’d say some kind of vulture. Or aggressive waterfowl.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Mother carefully poured the tea.

The smaller one removed the mask and revealed a sweet youthful face… And a most shocking streak of amazing azure! A bit of beautiful blue! A tuft of turquoise!

“That will make for such flashy feathers!” Father whispered excitedly.

“Such pretty plumage!” Mother agreed eagerly.

“So…” the small human hedged. “Who are you guys?”

“Was that a modicum of mistrust, Mother?”

“I find it frightfully forthright, Father.”

They both cringed.

“Um. I’m not going to call you guys that, Sir and Ma’am,” he said looking off-put. "But thank you for the tea."

He gave a gracious nod of the head. How positively perfect! Polite people made the most sweet and docile birds! And the adorable dusting of freckles across his nose would assuredly add to his most particular pigmentation as a bird.

The other one... was barely concealing a glare. And now that he was closer, she could see that those strange eyes had indeed been reflecting the light like a beast's might. It was a most fiendish feline feature she barely suppressed a shiver. And what's worse, when he spoke it almost seemed like his canine teeth were longer and more beast-like as well. 

Mother wondered if he hadn't already been transformed into something? How would their transformation affect such an ill-made thing? 

“And can we know your names, my most mysterious mendicants?” Father asked.

The two of them shared a look.

“Flynn.”

“Adira.”

They exchanged another look. Neither seemed impressed by the other’s obvious alias.

“Well, that was dripping with dismal dishonesty,” Father fretted.

What brings you to our most fantastical of forests?” Mother asked running a hand through her perfectly quaffed powdered wig.

“We wanted to see the canyons,” the boy said eyeing the teacup he held between his hands.

“How delightful! It’s one of the Seven Wonders of the Seven Kingdoms!”

The man frowned at that like he was offended. But Mother was not deterred.

“Good of you to bring your son to see the sights.”

“I’m just the uncle,” he said staring into the teacup, but he also did not drink.

“How wonderful of you to have taken him under your wing!” Mother cooed.

“Well, do we have a priceless proposition for you!” Father continued with his usual winning smile. “The Canyons are a half-day’s ride by the road, but only an hour or so… as the crow flies. The views are unmatched, and they are even more stunning from up high in the air. You have stumbled into a very unique opportunity…”

Mother frowned, usually the transformations would have started by now, while Father gave his pitch.

“You looked parched, dears!” Mother interrupted the speech. “Please partake in our tasty tea!”

The peculiar pair exchanged another look.

The small human touched the teacup and cleared his throat pointedly.

“Do you have any reservations dear?” Father asked.

“What’s up with this teapot?” the bigger one asked suddenly. He snatched it up off the table. And tossed it up in the air curiously, turning it all around.

Mother and Father both gasped.

“Put it down! You dumb dodo!” Father snapped.

“It’s most valuable and sentimental!” Mother said quickly. “Please be very careful!”

“Ah, of course,” he said as he placed it back on the mushroom table and held up his hands. “My apologies.” He didn’t sound very apologetic.

Mother pulled it closer, so it was out of his reach.

“The tea…” the colorful child squinted into the teacup then turned his scrutiny back on them.

“You drink it,” he said as he slid the teacup across the table towards them.

“Gladly!” Father laughed. “I have no qualms about being your canary in the coal mine!”

He slowly and carefully swapped their cups and took a long draw from it. He gave a little flourish with his hand when he was done.

The boy gave a sly grin.

The little chickadee probably thought he’d won. Little did he know, all the tea on the table had the transformation tonic!

“What’s in this tea?” he asked after a pause.

“Nothing nefarious, sweet boy,” Mother answered easily.

“A magic potion that will turn you into a bird,” Father added earnestly.

The sound of a cicada buzzed in the clearing.

A teacup shattered on the ground.

“What?!” The man shouted and rose to his feet. A blade emerged from his hand.

“Father!” she hissed in shock.

He covered his mouth with his hands, eyes gone wide with horror.

How could this be? The two of them nearly shared one mind! They had run this play hundreds of times and never fumbled it like this.

“What is the meaning of this, you nasty nestling?!” Father demanded of the boy.

He raised his hand above the tabletop and revealed a small glass vial. It was half full of a purple liquid.

“I just got you before you could get me,” he glared back at them.

There was sharpened steel under Father’s chin before he could respond. And the man pressed nearer.

The little lark raised a crossbow at her.

Father gulped. “I think our goose is cooked…”

“Easy friends,” Mother tried to salvage the situation, or at least delay. “Please forgive our chicanerous ruse! We just wanted to give you two the rare opportunity to view the forest and canyons from the sky. As birds!”

A little bit longer…

“Why would you want to do that?”

In the blink of an eye, Father shrunk down in stature and commenced his transformation. He popped up on the tabletop in his parrot form.

He spread out his feathered wings in a showman’s bow.

“As you can see, my crumpets, there’s no need for distress!” Father proclaimed, though Mother could tell that he was feeling most distressed. “It’s—”

“Yes, yes, it’s totally harmless and most temporary!” Mother interrupted him before he could reveal too much again.

“I wanna hear it from the parrot,” the hateful hatchling said coolly.

“Varian, what are you doing?” the big barbarian asked. The boy held up a placating hand.

“Is the potion harmful?” he asked, directing the question at Father.

Mother’s eyes widened in panic, but Father cleared his throat and met the boys’ eyes directly.

“The potion is not harmful.”

How callously cunning, Father! Mother thought proudly.

“And the transformation can be readily reversed, right?” she asked Father directly.

“Why yes it can!” Father answered.

Perfect. No need to mention that the potion was just the first phase of their terrific trap. And though not inherently harmful on its own, it significantly weakens their future feathered friends so that they can spring the trap on them.

The sword lowered slightly.

“Really, now?” the boy asked with an intensively inquisitive look on his face.

“Indubitably!” Father squawked.

The big one’s eyes went wide as the sword retracted.

But it was the boy who spoke. “Show me!”

Mother reached into their wicker basket, careful not to make any sudden movements, and grabbed one of the blue eggs.

She cracked it over Father and in a puff of smoke Father regained his svelte handsome form. He gave another flourishing bow to the stunned pair.  

“Incredible!” The boy said breathlessly.

“Yes, it’s really a most harmless happening! Quite reversible!” She insisted.

“Fascinating, so how did you—?”

The chickadee had only started his question when the monstrous man snatched up a teacup and drained the whole thing in one quick gulp.

He was a black feathered raptor in the blink of an eye.

Mother could only make out the dull black feathers and defective beak before he crossed the clearing in a few flaps of his wide wings.

He perched up on the back of the enormous grey creature and gave a series of squawks and chirps.

The bewildered beast grunted and huffed in return.

The black eagle turned his attention to the carnivorous creatures and vocalized with growing excitement. They growled and purred back to him with equal enthusiasm. One leaped up and rubbed it’s face on the eagle, while the other swatted at his tail feathers.

“Okay I’ll give it a shot,” he nodded.

He flapped his wings and hovered in the air, eyes wide in amazement. He flew even higher, then he swooped down and soared all around the clearing.

“Varian this is incredible!” He shouted over, voice sounding almost tearful with joy.

“I can’t believe you did that!” the boy shouted exasperated. “That was so dumb!”

He lowered his crossbow to watch the eagle soar around the clearing.

The raccoon chittered.

“Ruddiger thinks it was brave!” the eagle called back.

The giant grey creature grunted.

“Ah, Nótt agrees it was dumb…”

“You see? We didn’t mean any harm…” Mother interceded. “You should seize this opportunity.”

“Oh yeah?” the colorful child cast a glance back at his guardian landing on the stand with all the other brightly colored birds.

He chirped and they chirped back.

“What’s the catch?” he asked suspiciously.

“Our only caveat is this: you must return within one hour, to avoid the affliction we call avarian totalis.”

“What is that?” the brightly-colored boy shifted his grip on the crossbow in his hands.

“When one stays in their bird forms for too long, they begin to think like a bird.” Her voice was soft and sad, it was her best motherly tone. “Their personhood dissolves away and they remain a bird forever.”

The fearsome fledgling spluttered in shock.

“And we had every intention of explaining this from the very start!” she added quickly to put his mind at ease. “Right, Father?”

The man blinked once before his mind caught up.

“Why, yes Mother, we do tell everyone that!” He explained holding up the egg.

“Oh, is that all?!” the boy said eyes gone wide. He had his crossbow up again; he alternated which of the pair he aimed at, as he backed away.

“Hector!” he called out.

A dark shape passed over the sun.

The errant eagle dove down through the air and munched the blue egg right out of Father’s raised hand.

By the time he reached the ground, he was human once more.

“I don’t think you had to eat it…” the boy said sounding relieved. He relaxed and lowered his cross bow as it appeared that his guardian was safe.

The man did not relax, his fists clenched and his expression was still and stony.

“Varian, ‘Zelium, please?” He held out a hand, not even looking at him.

The kid carefully handed him a pink orb, in confusion. He cracked it on the table like an egg and it expanded into a sizable pile of pink goo.

The brute knocked the handsome top hat off Father’s handsome head and seized him by the ginger curled hair. He kicked a leg out from under him and stuck the side of his head in the pink goo on the table. Father squawked in protest all the while.

“Are those birds all people?!” he shouted in anger.

The sounds of insects stopped, and the wind was the only sound to be heard in the clearing.

“Hector, what under the Sun are you talking about?” the naïve nestling asked.

“Presently…” Father looked sick resisting the effects of the compulsion spell. “They are birds.”

The monstrous man twisted Father’s arm behind his back until he yelped.

“Take it from me, there is no point in resisting,” he growled. “Were they people?”

Eventually, Father surrendered to the effects of the spell. His eyes went wide, and he gave a small proud smile.

“Once…”

Varian raised his crossbow at the woman.

“Avairian Totalis. It wasn’t like you said it was. How do you reverse it?”

“What is that?” Hector asked.

“The cute little name they gave to the effect of making humans into birds forever. They said… no, she said it was permanent.” Varian spat.

“That’s why you wanted us to waste our time out there on your little flying tour,” Hector realized. “Run out the clock on a wild goose chase!”

“Don’t you start!” Varian warned Hector before he turned back to the sorcerers.

“I wanna hear it from you,” he told the man. “Can we turn those people back?”

The man whimpered.

The woman drummed her fingertips on the table in frustration. “The lie of the irreversibility is twofold, crumpets. Mindlessness: So, they can’t escape, and Hopelessness: so they won’t even try.”

Varian shivered.

“But!” the one called ‘father’ cut in. “That means all of this can be reversed, my most merciful magpies!”

“Yes yes, they can be saved…” she scrambled and snatched the teapot off the table. She gulped down the tea directly from the pot and slammed it down on the table. “But they won’t!”

In the blink of an eye, the large matronly woman was an enormous yellow and white hawk. Her beak looked wicked sharp, and her talons were bared and ready to rend and tear.

“Why would they make themselves weaker and smaller for a fight?” Hector laughed as he raised his sword.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the sorcerer sneered from where his head was glued to the table. He hefted a serving platter in one hand. “For better speed and mobility.” He threw it like a discus with unnatural strength and coordination, straight across the clearing.

“Missed by a mile,” Hector laughed.

“Check again,” the sorcerer said with a satisfied smirk.

The plater had impacted directly on the main stand where the aery the birds were held.  The aery collapsed and the people-turned-birds were flapping and panicking. Several managed to shake loose and were flying like the wind up into the air.

All those innocent people trapped inside the bodies of simple panicking bird brains. Inadvertently flying away from their only chance to be cured again.

“Favorable fortune fixing all of them when they’re leagues away!” he mocked.

Varian watched Hector curse and tense with anger before he shot him an alarmed look.

“I think we have to split up!” Varian called over to him. He dodged out of the way of the hawk as it swooped past them.

Hector nodded reluctantly.

“I’ll take the hawk; you go stop those birds!” he pushed the last cup of tea into his hands along with all the glue traps he had left.

Hector rushed to apply the glue to the tallest trees in the clearing while Varian laid down cover shots when the hawk tried to interfere.

Hector cast one last glass back at him. Clearly reluctant to leave him all alone with the hawk.

“GO!” Varian shouted both in worry and frustration.

He gave Varian one last reluctant look before he downed the tea and took off in a blur of black feathers. He whistled for the bearcats who followed him out into the forest sniffing the ground. They would have limited results from down on the ground, but they were still skilled trackers. Hector’s wingspan was enormous so he would hopefully be able to close the distance between the fleeing birds in no time. Hopefully.

To his satisfaction, she screeched in alarm and fell back when she suddenly had crossbow bolts flying at her. She stumbled midair when a bolt caught one of her large flight feathers.

She screeched in outrage and redoubled her efforts.

Varian hissed in frustration as he missed. Then again. And again! He just couldn’t hit anything today!

He threw the crossbow down and reached for his potions instead.

When the hawk got in close Varian tried to hit it with various potions… with mixed results.

He realized he would probably need some of these magic artifacts laying around so he slid the Flynnolium back into his pocket with the rest of the destructive explosives. The powdery sleep dust couldn’t carry though the air effectively to give the bird a full dose. The flashbangs would do the job if he could just land a direct hit.

The worst moment was when he tossed one of his glue traps up in the air and she’d caught it unbroken, only to circle back and drop it on him from behind.

He quickly applied the antidote before Hector could see him looking like a fool in a battle.

He looked over to see Hector stick a flamingo to the glued-up tree. He’d never seen a creature like an eagle handle anything so gently in its razor-sharp beak and claws, it was a bizarre sight and there were nearly 4 of the lost birds up there.

He snapped out of it when the hawk harried him about his head. Ruddiger helped try to swat her away.

Varian raised his staff and swung at it. But, none of those fancy staff forms Hector spent all that time teaching him would do any good against such a small enemy in the air.

His arms carried forward in the practiced swinging motion, but the staff slipped out of his grip.

Varian had tipped forward with the swing, and his own momentum nearly bowled him over.

She laughed from where she held his staff gripped between two powerful talons up there in the sky. His cheeks burned in the humiliation. He’d been so thoroughly disarmed by a bird!

He glared up at the yellow and white hawk. He shouted a curse as she cackled again and flung the staff into the nearby tree line out of sight.

He checked to make sure Hector had not noticed, but he was too busy trying to corral the fleeing aviary. He looked like he’d caught seven of the escaped birds and stuck them to the tree, that just left—

In his distraction, the hawk was right in front of him and rapidly closing the gap. Varian flipped the helmet down just in time for the razor-sharp talons to scrape against the metal at highspeed.

It passed by him, and he could feel the rush of wind.

He could only imagine what his face would currently look like if he’d been just a bit slower.

His stomach dropped and he had to stop imagining it.

Varian picked up another flashbang and got ready to toss it.

The hawk circled back around for another pass.  

This would be it. He’d get her this time. One flashbang. Knock her out of the air. Then use the last ‘Zelium to glue her down before she could recover.

Varian could see the hawk’s furious eyes focus on him. It gave a proud screech, and its talons were up and bared as it swooped down on him.

Varian was about to dip down below the table when the image changed. The wings were suddenly wider with jet-black feathers. Much wider. Like eight feet wide.

Hector had managed to catch up with her, and before they had even gotten halfway across the clearing, he had gripped her wings in his talons.

By the time they reached the toadstool tea table. The hawk screeched, and Hector slammed it down onto the tabletop next to her partner.

Hector gave a distressed chirp and lunged forward, he bit down hard and reared back tearing out her long flight feathers. She gave a high screech.

“Hector! What are you doing?!”

“Ah!” he spat out a beakful of yellow feathers. “Sorry. Bird brain.”

He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts.

Varian brought him a blue egg, and in a flash, Hector was back to human again.

He glanced over and counted all the missing birds safely glued to the tree. They didn’t look happy about it, but at least they wouldn’t get eaten by a kurloc or something before they could at least try to change them back.

They both breathed a sigh of relief.

Hector straightened up still holding the hawk, “And as for you,” he scooped up another pink sphere.

“Just so you don’t fly the coop,” he said as he cracked the glass orb sticking her to the table.

“I said stop that,” Varian rolled his eyes.

“What?” Hector laughed. “They’re sitting ducks!”

“Knock it off!”

“Your puny human minds cannot begin to comprehend the power we wield. Mere mortals should be worshiping at our feet for the generous gift of transformation!” the man flailed from where he was still glued to the table.

Hector scoffed and Varian glared.

“Oh yeah? Behold my powers of transformation!” Varian gave a short whistle and, in a blink, Ruddiger had transformed. “From nothing but the might of alchemy!” he gestured at the giant Ruddiger.

“Why are you competing with a bunch of evil sorcerers?” Hector asked.

“You’re the one who immediately started chugging tea!”

Hector gave a small shrug.

The man who called himself ‘father’ balled his hands into fists. “Your feeble physical fluctuation is nothing compared to our magnificent magical modifications!”

“At least I’m not forcing annoying alliterations! Wait…”

“Ha!” the man boasted but the hawk’s eyes went wide.

"Ah!” the one called ’mother’ said in realization, looking up at Ruddiger. “There were terrific tales from the west about a powerful pair, a sinister sorcerer and a black-clad Beastmaster! We should not be at odds, friends!"

Hector looked as shocked as Varian felt.

“That can’t be good…” Hector muttered running an anxious hand through his hair.

“We were excited to think we might meet fellow professionals in our field…” he frowned. “However, it seems you are rather mundane…” he said, voice dripping with disappointment.

“More a scholar of the physical world!” the hawk cut in diplomatically, once again. “The world has grown so old it can’t recognize magic anymore.” She gave a wistful sigh.

“I typically don’t work with magic,” Varian admitted. “I’m a man of science.”

“Your alchemical knowledge is nothing compared to the might of magic,” the man said.

“You might consider it. I sense you might take to it like a duck to water!” The hawk continued.

Varian looked all around.

“So, is all of this magic?” He asked curiously. “Is all the stuff in the clearing? The weather? The mushrooms? The house? The tea?”

“Since when do you have an interest in magic?” Hector asked.

“Since I wandered around the Forest of No Return like a delirious maniac.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Well, you are certainly no amateur!” the sorcerer protested. “I know the keen sting of a compulsion spell! It was just in potion form.”

Varian’s eyes widened in shock. “No, I didn’t do magic. it was someone else’s magic potion; I just altered it and replicated it.”

“That is doing magic, my little chickadee.” The woman gave a warm chuckle. “Release me from your adorable adhesive and I can teach you what real power is.”

“He’s probably one of the most powerful people in this century! Even without all this sorcery of yours,” Hector said, half boast, half threat.

“Well, aren’t you proud as a peacock!” she gave a haughty laugh. For the first time, her saccharine demeanor faltered, and she looked downright sinister “But you are both insignificant terrestrial-bound little mortals. You have no idea what the pecking-order is in this universe.”

“Why do you do this?” Varian couldn’t help but ask. “What’s the point?”

“The point, my future feathered friend, is to create new and beautiful birds to add to our collection. People make the most beautiful on-of-a-kind birds!” the man said.

“But why? Why do you collect people-birds? With this kind of power, you could do anything! Become rich! Help people! Change the world!”

But we don’t want to change the world… we want to turn people into birds.” The hawk said it as if explaining something obvious to a simpleton.

“But why?!” Varian repeated.

“Why nothing, some people are just sick in the head,” Hector cut in.

“It’s not possible,” he shook his head. “It’s inhumane.”

“I don’t think they’re human...” Hector offered after a moment of hesitation. “They smelled more like mushrooms than people.”

“…What?”

“Oi, you. Parrot one.”

“Father!” he corrected tartly.

“Whatever. What are you?”

“A purveyor of fanciful merriment?” he looked sick to his stomach.

“And?” Hector pressed.

“We’re from another plane,” the hawk interrupted. “In fact, that magic of the teapot is our anchor to this dimension. We would be ever so tragically transported back if it were destroyed.”

Why would she offer that piece of information? Varian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“And then what?” he directed the question at the parrot.

“We will eventually reform the anchor and rematerialize on this plane,” he said reluctantly. “And we will continue on as we always have. Always and forever. Time without end.”

“Father!” the hawk squawked at him in anger.

“Well, I’ve never seen someone rematerialize from a severed head,” Hector offered, his face twisted in disgust.

“Hector!”

“What? They’re not really people! they’re monsters! And just look at how many people they were willing to keep as slaves.” He pointed over to the tree stand of birds.

“We talked about this.” Varian frowned and crossed his arms.

Hector met his gaze steadily.

“At a certain point, we’re only condemning the innocent when we spare the wicked. I counted eight birds over there. That’s eight mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. Innocent people dearly missed.”

Varian gulped.

“Let’s just leave them as birdbrains,” he suggested, dumping a cup of tea over “father’s” head.