Forric looked up at a sneering Trell.

“You’re disgusting,” Trell told him. Byleth walked past Forric and joined Trell by his side, though he lacked the same malice.

“We are going, Trell, because that amount of money would make my old nanny burn me at the stake, but Forric didn’t do this. They haven’t a clue where I am, and it’s going to stay that way, as long as we move. Forric hasn’t said a word. Mother’s scribes simply took this long to get the word out. These days, the magical messengers are simply much too expensive.” He paused for a moment and examined the wanted paper anew. “You know, I must say, the amount of money offered when I was seven and ran away was much higher. And--”

“We haven’t the time for this, Byleth,” Trell muttered with a gallon of affection, then pulled him towards the staircase. Forric chased after them both and used his long legs and lack of heavy armor to beat them there. He blocked their path. Trell rolled his eyes. “Move, Imperial. Byleth says you’re okay, so I’m neglecting the distinct pleasure of murdering you, but that doesn’t mean you get to stand in our way. If you care about him at all, you’ll let us through.”

“Trell--” Byleth tried.

“No! I can’t let you take him. I won’t turn you in, but I won’t let you go alone,” Forric shouted. This drew a few more eyes than Trell was comfortable with.

“No, you’ll move now. Understood?” Trell shoved Forric, but Forric’s much more study body took the push as if it was nothing.

“No. Tell me where you’re going first.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, both of you! Neither of you are being hunted by everyone outside of this bar, I am! The both of you can be stubborn later. Frankly, I don’t care if either of you come with me! I’m going somewhere-- anywhere but here. It’s a miracle your shouting hasn’t bothered any of these fine folk enough to come kill you yet,” Byleth snapped, then ducked under Forric’s arm, just like he used to when they were kids and this was a silly game they played before breakfast. Trell gave Forric another glare, then ducked through the same path that Byleth had taken, albeit with more difficulty.

Forric turned and followed them both up the stairs and into the abyss of life hidden behind the front door of The Shapely Angel.

Byleth drew his shawl around his head again and whispered a few words, then a glow erupted around his face, obscuring the visage of the Prince from anyone who wasn’t already aware of the spell’s meaning. Trell wasn’t noticeable as it was, what with his homely coat and hat pulled tight around his blond hair, but he still snatched a scarf from a passerby and wrapped it tightly around his neck. Forric looked down at the chestpiece and frowned. He wasn’t exactly one for stealth, now was he?

“Byleth,” Trell hissed, only a pace behind him, “To where are you taking us? I told you, I have a hiding spot arranged for when I need to run from… Imperials.” He cast another irritated glance at Forric.

“I’m not Byleth, Trell, my name is Liyat. Call me such while we’re in public, please.”

Trell giggled in response.

“Is that supposed to be an undercover name? It’s not exactly sufficient, my dear. I suppose we’ll have time to figure a better one out later, but…”

“But it’ll do until we get where we’re going, Trell, so leave me alone.”

“Yes, boss,” he purred.

Byleth finally drew them off of the main street and towards a coarse road, where gravel chips insisted on clinking against Forric’s boots with every step. Trell eyed him up and down again, and this time, Byleth joined in. Forric looked down at his boots and frowned. It wasn’t as if he could do much about it!

“Byleth. Er, Liyat. Can we please leave behind the Imperial now? All he’s doing is drawing attention.” Trell complained, pace coming to a halt next to Byleth.

“Oh, shove it. You’re drawing more attention with your whining, thief,” Forric retorted. Trell stepped forward, hand on a dagger sheathed on his waist, but Byleth held out a hand.

“The two of you can sort out your issues outside, if you’d prefer, but we’ve arrived at our destination, and I intend on entering before we draw a crowd to watch your verbal duel,” Byleth told them both, looking around the relatively abandoned street, then pulling his shawl tight and stepping towards the nearest storefront. It was shabby, but had an air of relative importance in comparison to the rest of the bleak road. Even in the daylight, the air was thicker than on the main street.

Trell and Forric, despite the intensity of the air crackling between them, broke their mutual glare and followed him inside. The walls were lined with a thin layer of velvet fabric, peeling and frayed and leaving just enough of the stone peeking in from behind them to give the whole place the air that something important had lived and died here.

One man sat at a desk on the wall opposite the door, and he wore a violent frown. His hair was thick but short-- slicked back behind his head in a manner so perfect it almost appeared as though his hair was one solid piece rather than several strands. He flicked a glance up at Byleth. Byleth replied with a wink and snapped, manifesting a small shred of paper that floated into his hand from the free air above him.

The man at the desk took the paper, gave Byleth another sharp look, then stood up and gestured for him to follow. Byleth followed him through a chipping door, leaving Trell and Forric alone in the decaying space.

“This is a bank, in case you’re wondering,” Forric told Trell, after their bout of silence left him in discomfort. “I’ve patrolled near it before. Since it’s relatively far from the market district, many wanted persons are fond of storing funds here, though they’ve gotten wise as we’ve increased our presence in the area.”

Trell admired the portrait that hung behind the desk, neglecting to make any sort of eye contact.

“I know it’s a bank. And I know what kind it is.”

“Ah. I see. So you’re a patron.”

“Maybe I just grew up in the area. Does that make me a criminal?”

“Certainly not. But based on the way you dress, and that dagger you carry… Well, let’s say that since the moment I first saw you, snogging on Byleth, I’ve considered you a threat to his safety, and perhaps all that’s holy and sacred in the world.”

Trell snorted, finally making a sneering eye contact with Forric.

“Is that your expert assessment? If I’m such a threat, why haven’t you arrested me yet, Imperial?”

“Because Byleth has asked me not to, and--”

“And you follow the orders of the Prince, like a little lost puppy dog who forgot to put on his pants this morning.”

“That didn’t--”

“Go on, arrest me. Let’s see what your beloved Prince thinks of you then, shall we?” Trell held out his wrists, and Forric swatted them away.

“You’re being immature.”

“You’re just jealous that Byleth trusts someone other than you, which I find deeply amusing.”

“I can tell. I’m not sure why--”

“Because it’s hilarious to me to consider all the love-letters you must have written to him and torn up out of fear he might have laughed you out of the Castle. And as cruel as it is, I do get a kick out of being picked over a lesser option. The thought of you waiting for him in the evenings to come back from a late walk, sitting there pathetically in the dark while the two of us snog on the other side of town… brings warm feelings to my heart.”

“What have I done to earn this disrespect? You’ve known me for… nearly less than an hour, if my guess is accurate. And I’ll have you know that any relationship you could have built up with him would have absolutely no strength in comparison to ours… The two of us have known each other since birth. I’ve been his protector since then. I’ve read to him on the days he was sick, held him on the days he was sad, warmed him on the days he was cold. I have always been by his side. I’ve been there for him during times you’ve certainly never even been made aware of. As it happens, I appreciate him for getting his sexual frustrations out with a ruffian and taking his time to ensure the time for us is appropriate and right.”

“What a proper lap dog you are. Keeping him warm, letting him cry on you, waiting for the scraps of affection he feeds to you under the table. If you were all he had for real company, it’s no wonder he ran right into my embrace. At least I make riveting conversation. What do you talk about in your spare time? Righteousness and humility? Droll.”

“I’m certain you’ve filled his head with the joys of lying and thieving, haven’t you? Then you have the audacity to act as though I’m the prejudiced one when you haven’t even considered the fact that perhaps I’m a better human being than you seem to believe.”

“Now, I have a legitimate question for you. Have you ever had a lick of fun in your entire life? I understand that stick up your arse may make it a tad more difficult --especially because it would hurt a fair bit more than a cock-- but surely you’re at least familiar with the concept.”

“Are you implying I’ve never taken a cock before?”

“Hmm. I’d say yes, but I’m fairly sure you have at least once and he removed it only to find the pressure up there had turned it into a precious stone rather than human flesh.”

“At least that would mean I could contribute something to this world rather than just taking from it.”

“You ought to watch--”

Trell was cut off by an arrow shattering the window to his left. He rolled to the side, finding cover behind the desk as more came. A woman with blood red hair flung the door open and several others flooded in through the broken window or behind her. Forric stood his ground and drew his sword, now utterly conscious of the fact that he lacked sufficient protection. Luckily, he hadn’t left his shield at home as he had most pieces of armor north of his greaves. By the time he had set in a battle position, a dagger was aimed at his throat, close enough to pierce if he wasn’t careful.

“Where’s the Prince?” the woman on the other end of the dagger demanded. Trell counted a total of six people in the room now, not including himself of Forric.

“He’s away--” Trell tried, raising to his feet.

“You will have to go through me to get to him,” Forric snapped, flourishing his sword once as a warning.

“You… buffoon! Why would you admit that he was even here?” Trell asked. He drew his dagger and took point beside Forric.

“There’s a bounty for him alive, but the two of you can be brought in and sold in pieces to demeted witches or sadistic dwarves. Do you have a preference?” the woman, who must have been the leader, asked.

“How did you even find us?” Trell asked. She rolled her eyes and moved to strike.

Byleth came rushing out of the back room and nearly collided with his companions.

“Forric, Trell, the teller tried to kill me, and-- Oh, dear.”

“Byleth, stay behind me,” Forric insisted, grinding his boot into the wooden floors in anticipation of keeping his ground against a flurry of attacks.

“Do we… Should we run? I don’t know how to fight. Oh, wait, the bank teller is back there. We don’t have anywhere to run, do we?” Byleth asked. “Oh well. I suppose it had to happen eventually. I’d prefer not to die with only you two and these horrendously ugly people as company, but if it must be that way.”

“No, you come with us alive, or we torture your friends until you agree,” the leader of the bandits snapped.

“Wait a moment, I know you,” Byleth told her, eyeing her up and down behind Forric’s sturdy arm. Trell continued to plan possible battle plans, though he kept them to himself. “You work here, too. Did Mister Heatham send for you to kidnap me? What exactly were you going to do? Split the money… seven ways? With the amount of money I have stashed that I was trying to get access to before he decided to pull a knife on me, I could have paid you all off with twice that amount! I suppose then I’d have very little left for myself, but--”

“Byleth,” Trell said. “Stop talking.”

“You’re right. I am a tad nervous. There are a lot of blades in this room. You know, Forric, the last time I think I saw a blade this close was when you taught me how to wield one. Although, I suppose that isn’t true, as you left yours next to the bed when we last laid next to one another, and that was intimately close. Then again, that night, I saw a... different sort of blade as well. I do hope I can interact with that before I die. I cannot die a virgin. Please don’t kill me! I know you’re only meaning to kidnap me, but--”

“Byleth?” Forric said, voice light. “Shut up.”

This time, Byleth just nodded. Forric’s blade was close enough to the leader’s throat that if they both made a move at just the same time, the other would die.

“You’ll die if you get near him,” Trell growled.

“Oh, I’ve had enough of this,” snapped another member of the band. He brought down his axe towards Trell, who lunged forward, towards his legs, and sent him tumbling backwards. Byleth and Forric backed up as the leader thrust her blades closer and closer to them.