As the sky turns pink, the cart comes to a clearing in the woods. They aren’t far from the agreed-upon meet-up site, and there is still light enough to see, but Noras finds himself slowing the cart and bringing them to a stop. He climbs down, detaching Jeade: We’ll make camp here for the night.

Elias nods, slipping off of the cart’s seat, and stretches. After a moment of popping his back back into place, he picks up Sir Fluffles and places him on the ground: [after a moment of silence] Do you know what Orville plans on doing once you deliver me?

Noras shrugs: He isn’t the most communicative employer. [He glances at Elias and finds himself adding] Can’t think he wants to kill you, or he’d have told me to do it already.

Elias nods in agreement, weakly attempting a joke: Perhaps he’d like the honor of doing it himself… [he watches Sir Fluffles hop over to some grass before he adds more quietly] He knows that father wouldn’t help me.

Noras shifts uncomfortably, turning away from the sadness in the prince’s words: Why? He doesn’t have a sack to put you in when you get too annoying?

Elias has an empty laugh, shaking his head: You’d be surprised.

Noras looks at him with a slight frown: For a family not to care at all about one of its own members… [he shakes his head] Nobility really are the worst.

Elias rubs the back of his neck: [with a slight smile] Valainya cares, in her own way, but she won’t be able to do anything. Father won’t let her. [Sir Fluffles paws at his leg, and he smiles, picking him up] Perhaps this is a good thing. I’ll stop being a burden to her.

Noras studies him, carefully gaging his reaction as he speaks: I suppose you think your family just need some help, too.

Elias ponders for a moment, rocking on his heels: Those in my family who need it, I can’t help.

Noras raises an eyebrow: Ah. So there are people you can’t help.

Elias gives him a helpless smile: Those who don’t want to be helped, cannot be helped.

Noras gives him a narrow-eyed look: [challengingly] And what about me, then?

Elias: I think you want to be helped, although you may not be conscious of it. And if I’m wrong… well, Orville will keep me busy I’m sure.

Noras takes this in, and then sighs: Oh, people like you are the worst.

Elias laughs slightly: Oh, how so?

Noras: People who are selfless and kind. You’re naive. Worse, you’re - delusional. No one’s really just nice. Everyone - everyone is in it for something. It’s just a matter of figuring out what.

Elias shakes his head: I am under no delusion, I help people because it is one of the only things I know to do. By helping people, that’s how I know I’m alive… but if it is naive to enjoy helping others, instead of being trapped within a gilded cage doing nothing, then I will own up to my naivety.

Noras: [with a wry smile] If I had a gilded cage, I would never leave it.

Elias smiles to himself: We always want what we cannot have. I wish to escape a place where I’m trapped, constantly looked upon with scorn, and you wish for me to shut up.

Noras gives a light, genuine huff of a laugh before catching himself. He thinks for a moment and then says: When you come from nothing, everyone looks at you with scorn. I don’t mind it, but I would mind it less if the view also involved some gold.

Elias hums: It seems that we would have been better off in each others’ lives, then.

Noras: I’d like to see that. [he looks the prince up and down] You wouldn’t last a day in The Box.

Elias places Sir Fluffles back onto the ground, rubbing his arm: … I won’t ask… but still, if it meant that you didn’t have to be a part of this line of work, I would have gladly traded our lives at birth.

Noras looks at him, unsure of how to respond, but before he can figure it out, there’s a sudden, soft snapping of a twig just beyond the treeline and Noras spins, scanning the trees. He crosses quickly to the cart and grabs his axe, then looks at the prince: Take my horse and go hide beyond the treeline. [He motions to the trees on the opposite side of the clearing, where some wild bushes provide obscurity]

Elias scans the treeline: … Will you need backup?

Noras: No. I need you and Jeade alive.

Elias nods slowly, taking Jeade’s reigns and tugging at them softly, clicking at Sir Fluffles to follow: Come along.

It takes some effort to pull Jeade away; the horse plants his hooves and stares at Noras, only conceding to Elias’ gentle tugging when Noras gives Jeade a narrow-eyed expression, jerking his head towards the trees.

Noras watches them leave and then turns his attention back to the source of the sound, waiting. It’s another moment before more sounds emerge and four figures step out from between the trees - three men and one woman, all in their late thirties. It’s dark, but there is a small campfire near the tent — once the men step into its light, Noras straightens and lets out a small gasp, and then his face goes blank and he goes completely still, holding the axe hilt so tightly his knuckles turn white.

The leader of the group, a man Noras knows to be called Iam, suddenly smiles widely and cruelly, and, still looking at Noras, he addresses the other people with him: Well, would you look at that, it’s our Shahīn, all grown up. Long time no see, [he shifts forward, tilting his head so that the firelight catches a long, rough scar running down his face, along his cheek and jaw] little brother.

Noras only stares at him. His head goes empty; thoughts rise and then dissolve, half-formed. His mind is a grey void.

Iam takes another languid step forward, his companions fanning out behind him: We’ve all looked forward to seeing where you’d get to… [with another sharp grin] After all, you left… quite the impression when you left us.

Noras’ eyes flicker to the long scar.

Iam catches this and laughs: Very kind of you, to leave such a personal keepsake. [softly] I’ve waited a long time to return the favor.

Elias peeks his head around a tree to watch, and while he can barely hear their voices from the distance, their expressions and postures make him tense.

When Noras remains silent, Iam puts on an almost comical frown: What’s up with you? Why so quiet? Is this any way to treat your family? [he gives a sharp laugh] And here I remembered you as the most spitfire little shit I ever trained… I guess time really does work wonders… [up until now, he’s been holding his hands folded behind his back; now he brings them out, grip tight around an axe very similar to the one Noras carries] Well, no matter. [he takes another step, followed by the others] We’ll have you making some noise before the night is up.

Noras stays still as Iam and his companions move closer and closer. He feels rooted to the ground, like his body is lead, like he doesn’t have a body at all.

Elias sees that his captor does not move, and turns around almost immediately, moving a foot in the opposite direction before stopping short. He looks forward, seeing lights from a distant village twinkling. Against his better judgement he glances back at his captor again, locked in place like a frightened child. Elias hesitates. He curses his nature. He squeezes his eyes shut. And opens them to reveal both his eyes now orange.

Suddenly, behind Noras there are several furious and very loud hisses. With great thuds, five giant spiders the size of large dogs skitter past Noras, approaching his attackers, snapping their pincers menacingly.

Iam’s companions let out startled, panicked noises as spiders leap towards them, and Noras suddenly blinks, eyes refocusing and locking onto Iam. Iam ignores the spiders and goes for Noras, who ducks around him, moving around to the other side of the fire. As he does so, he draws a knife from his belt, aiming at one of the men currently backing away from a spider. The knife phases through the spider and buries itself in the man’s throat. The spider shatters and disappears. Noras recognizes this as magic, but there is no time to question it.

Elias gulps as the blood starts to splatter the grass, eyes fixed on his captor as he weaves between the people that surround him. Movement catches his eye as behind the man one of the attackers lifts a dagger. Without thinking Elias points at the man and lets his magic flow again: Dor!

The man stops short, and Elias swears that the man looks straight at him for a moment before he falls to his knees, and shakes his head - trying to stay awake - before he collapses in a heap, unconscious.

Iam curses as two of his men drop to the ground. He comes after Noras again, followed by the woman - one on either side of him. Noras blocks Iam’s axe with his own, glancing at the woman behind him. He stops pushing Iam back, allowing himself to drop into a squat, putting Iam off balance. Noras swings the axe hilt, knocking the woman off her feet; she stumbles, falling into the fire, and he hears her screaming as he jumps back up. Iam growls. Noras backs away from him, producing another knife and hurling it in the direction of the woman’s screams. He doesn’t need to look; the sudden silence confirms that the blade reached its mark.

Now it’s just Iam and Noras on opposite sides of the dying fire. Iam attacks first, leaping across the embers. Noras jumps back, but he’s once again forced to block Iam’s axe with his own, and he knows that Iam is stronger than him. He can’t use the same feint as before, and they struggle for what feels like hours but must only be seconds before Iam kicks out, driving Noras back, and slams the pole end of the axe into Noras’ stomach. Noras falls backwards, next to the fire. He struggles to breathe from the blow and reaches out blindly, hands burning as they make contact with the fire. Iam darts across the space, leaning over him. Noras’s fingers curl, ignoring the sting of the burning dirt. As Iam leers down at him, Noras flings a fistful of embers into his eyes.

With a curse, Iam stumbles back. Noras springs up as he claws at his eyes, swinging the axe in an upwards arc. Iam blinks, struggling to see. Blurry figures shift in front of him; he raises his axe to protect his chest. He is unprepared when, instead, he finds the axe blade buried in his wrist. Iam hunches over, gripping his half-cut-off hand in shock, and Noras brings the axe down from above him, burying it in Iam’s spine. Iam spasms, and then slumps. Noras pulls the axe out.

He staggers back a few steps, letting the axe blade thump to the ground, all but leaning on the weapon for support, breathing heavily.

Elias, from his hiding spot, takes in several deep breaths, trying not to let the stench of blood make him spiral, and ignoring the shadows that crowd around him, pushing. With a final deep breath, he leads Jeade and Sir Fluffles back out into the clearing, keeping his eyes resolutely away from the blood and bodies: [weakly] We should probably move.

Noras doesn’t seem to register his words or his presence. He stares at Iam for a moment longer, and then suddenly, and slightly hysterically, starts to laugh. His grip on the axe loosens, and, without the support, he drops to his knees, covering his face with his hands, still laughing.

Elias hesitates, before walking cautiously over, kneeling in front of him: Are you alright? Were you injured? [his eyes scan Noras’ body, landing on his burnt hand and almost unconsciously taking it to analyse the damage] You’ll need calendula, comfrey, mint, and plantains.

Noras slowly stops laughing, falling silent. He pulls his hand back, and studies the prince for a moment: ...Those spiders. That was you.

Elias freezes, then nods: Yes. They were me, as was the - [he gestures to the unconscious but not dead man off to the side. His eyes catch the axe - still stuck in the man’s back and he twists to look away abruptly, throat dry] That man…

Noras slowly stands. With the tip of his boot, he rolls the corpse over so that the face is visible, and gives the slightest flinch: [softly] His name was Iam.

Elias, starting resolutely to look around the edges of the clearing where the blood hasn’t reached, and keeping his breath artificially steady: He… he hurt you… before.

Noras shrugs: Yeah, well... [instead of finishing the thought, he starts to clean off the blood as Jeade comes up behind him, nudging his head - with one hand he wipes blood off his face, with the other he absently pats Jeade’s nose]

Elias frowns as the man uses his burnt hand to pet the horse and stands, hiding his shaking hands behind his back: … he’s one of the reasons you’re… [he also doesn’t finish the statement out loud]

Noras shrugs again: One of, yeah. Sure. I would’ve found my way here eventually.

Elias tips his head, picking up Sir Fluffles and picking his way across the clearing to a non-bloody spot, placing the rabbit down: Perhaps, or perhaps not.

Noras looks over at him and shakes his head slightly. He begins the process of dragging the bodies out of the campsite.

Elias watches this from the corner of his eye, and an old friend’s body flashes in his mind. He squeezes his eyes shut, regulating his breathing. He then tells Sir Fluffles to stay, walking around the circumference of the clearing and finding some comfrey and calendula. He picks the flowers and crushes them, placing them in a leaf and offering the paste to the man: … Calendula officinalis and symphytum officinale… for your burns.

Noras glances between the prince and the paste he’s holding out. His burnt hand curls, fingernails digging painfully into the fresh wounds, and he turns abruptly away in silence, frowning to himself. He leads Jeade over to a clean spot and sits down next to him, facing away from the prince.

Elias lowers the offered paste, then sighs and picks his way over to the man, placing it in front of him, and walking back over to where Sir Fluffles waits patiently. He sits, and with a forced smile he looks at Noras: Well, I bid you goodnight… You and I will be going our separate ways tomorrow.

Noras tilts back to lean against Jeade, weighted by emotions he’d thought he’d left behind years ago: [quietly] So we will.

Elias shifts: … You never introduced yourself... might I have your name before… [he shakes his head to himself]

Noras curls against Jeade. He looks at the paste resting on a ground in front of him, and reaches towards it for a moment, before pulling his hand back with a sigh: [even quieter] ...Thank you. For the spiders.

Elias nods to himself, debating whether or not to say anything more, before leaning down and whispering something in Sir Fluffles’ ear, whose ears and nose twitch. The rabbit nuzzles Elias’ face, hops to the edge of the clearing, looking back at Elias once, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the underbrush.