Forric accepted each blow with his shield and dealt back in kind with his sword. The others loomed towards Forric and Byleth now, too, though before the one with the bow could get a shot off in their direction, Trell drew his dagger, now dripping with the blood of the former axeman, and slashed it across the bowman’s leg, knocking him to the ground.

The leader thrust again now, fast enough that she almost made it around Forric’s shield several times. A swipe from a swordswoman that he intercepted with his blade with a hasty lift kept him and in turn, Byleth, on an ever present march backwards towards the danger of Mister Heatham, apparently the bank teller of certain doom. Another swordsman began to flank Forric, and Byleth was officially pushed up against the wall behind him.

Forric was skilled, but he couldn’t stand up against six attackers at once. Fortunately, Trell had stabbed completely through the bowman now, leaving his second corpse behind him, and had turned his attention to two of the others, getting them both to notice him at once. Then, as one swiped high and the other swiped low with matching blades, Trell ripped a flask from the depths of his coat and threw it at the ground. Their strikes missed because of his agility, and they both began to hack and wheeze as the vial bubbled up smoke towards their lungs. One’s skin started to boil and the other tumbled to the ground. Trell hid his nose and mouth behind his sleeve and rushed to Forric and Byleth’s rescue.

Forric’s ass was pushed up against Byleth’s crotch now, and neither had any space to breath with the way the leader was assaulting them both. Her two partners had taken point beside her, and their fury was only matched by Forric’s unwavering defense of his Prince.

When Forric noticed Trell’s advance towards them, he flung his shield out in an offensive sweep, sending one of his trio of enemies staggering backwards, though the other two caught themselves. The leader came down towards his blade and he intercepted it, but this left his right flank wholly open for the other swordswoman to strike at the vulnerable parts of him that lacked armor.

Trell stopped her from using the opportunity, though a bit of her did splatter onto Forric’s unarmored side. Forric took the leader’s surprise and ran with it, driving his sword through her side, sending her crumpling backwards towards the front door. Then, he hit the last of their enemies with his shield again the moment he started to stand up and finished the job by turning his sword upside-down and driving it through his chest with a visceral pop.

Byleth eyed them both with something between awe and horror. The carnage had lasted mere seconds. Two men had taken on almost four times as many and won without so much as a stray cut to deal with. They were both covered in blood.

“So much for Imperial training. You would’ve died if not for me,” Trell said with a sneer towards Forric. Forric rolled his eyes.

“I was trained to defend the Prince, under any and all circumstances. I’m capable with a sword, but my strength lies in my shield. I stood for him and granted them no quarter,” Forric replied. Byleth still stared at them both, wide-eyed.

“Psh. You gave them quarter, half, and whole. Had there been much more push, you would have made a dent in the wall.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I…” Byleth squeaked, then covered his mouth in surprise at his un-Princely sound. “I do believe that was near the most attractive thing I’ve seen before in my life.”

“I’d lay down my life for you, Prince, and if you find that attractive, then I’m flattered--”

“I’ll teach you how to use a sword sometime. I mean that in both ways, of course--”

Trell and Forric spoke in unison, then blinked at one another in irritation before they erupted into bickering once more.

“Clearly, he was referring to me--”

“He would sooner refer to the elegance of a snail, you thief--”

“Better than being a spineless Imperial!”

“At least I have a lick of faith in those outside of me!”

“At least I have real people outside of me!”

“The way you speak, I’m nearly certain that there aren’t many who haven’t been inside you before!”

“Watch your tone, or I’ll add you next on the list of bodies to dump on the floor to keep him safe. He was talking to me, not you!”

“He was not referring to you, you… you lowly street-rat!”

“Byleth?” They shouted in unison, turning to face him. Mister Heatham had his hair held tight in his fist and a blade bared at his neck.

“If you’re quite done with your little marital spat, I’ll be taking this brat back to the palace. Get closer to me, and he’s dead, understand?” Mister Heatham sneered at them both, shuffling towards the back room at an awkward pace, since he was trying to keep his blade locked to Byleth’s throat as he walked. His hair was disheveled now, and part of it was covered in soot.

Trell and Forric locked eyes, then turned back towards Mister Heatham and Byleth as they made their exit.

“First off, I’d sooner chug a goblet of maggots than marry him,” Trell snapped, following Forric closely, “And secondly, your plan makes no sense. You deliver him dead, you get tortured before you die. So I will be coming closer. And I-- Oh, would you stop running away?”

The hallway was tight, and Mister Heatham was struggling to get Byleth past all of the vaults and keep him in his grasp, especially with Forric gaining on them and Trell gaining on Forric gaining on them.

“Well… You’d never be able to prove that I killed him, so I’d frame you both and collect the money all the same!” Mister Heatham insisted, brushing past another vault, then coming to a small intersection with the perpendicular pathway leading to offices and the straight pathway leading to more vaults.

“I’m a royal guard, you buffoon, they’d take my word over yours. You’re also a known criminal,” Forric told him, armor rustling up against the vaults as he kept his advance up. Byleth was almost not even struggling. “Which degrades your credibility even further!”

“Oh, enough already. I have the boy, and we’ll be out and gone towards the Castle in mere moments! I’ll contact the royal guards, and--”

“He is the royal guards!” Trell yelled, arm snagging on a vault door. He tugged himself free and caught up to Forric, who was slowing them both down by keeping in front. Because of his broad shoulders, he had to walk sideways, and in his boots, this kept him from moving particularly quickly. “Even if he’s perhaps the most thick of them.”

“Do you grow tired of insulting me?”

“I’m quite certain he does not,” Byleth replied from in front of them, “But I’m admittedly a bit tired of playing damsel in distress.”

Byleth said some archaic phrase in a language neither Trell nor Forric actively recognized as anything other than a spell, and Mister Heatham’s blade and body went right through him. By the time he had realized that Byleth was no longer in his grasp, his trousers had been lit ablaze. He turned and gave Byleth a horrified look before dropping his knife and sprinting away.

Forric and Trell exchanged glances, then gaped at Byleth.

“You… What exactly was the point of making us follow you if you could simply walk right through him to safety?” Trell asked, struggling to keep his voice level. “Do you not think that could have been useful say, three minutes of walking down a cramped bank ago?” Byleth shrugged.

“Of course it would have been. But I wanted to see which of you would be able to pull off a more daring rescue. And also… It’s exhausting to do. I was tired enough from casting the glamor charm, and now, between the intangibility charm and the fire hex, I’m particularly woozy. I suppose I knew this was going to happen when I ran from home, but I was going to buy a new staff as soon as I retrieved my money. From here. Which, incidentally, I do not have. Nor do I have the capability of getting to it, considering my intangibility charm has already worn off, and another spell like that would leave me unconscious on the other side of a vault door.”

“I could easily pick the lock, Byleth,” Trell offered. “It wouldn’t be the first vault I’ve broken into.”

“Thief,” Forric muttered. Trell gave him a wicked grin after catching the excitement on Byleth’s face.

“Guilty. Are you going to turn me in, Mister Imperial?”

Byleth led them both to the correct vault and Trell pulled a few tools from within his coat, then opened the vault as if the correct key was used. Inside, gold piled to the ceiling. Gemstones littered the space like flowers on a mountainside. There was enough to count for years, despite the relatively minimal size of the vault.

“Ahem. Byleth, there are three of us. How are we to carry all of this?” Forric asked politely. Trell rolled his eyes and started shoving as much as he could reach into his pockets.

“There are two of us and a voyeur, pest,” Trell replied. “But he does have a point. My coat can only get so heavy before I lose my ability to walk, Byleth.”

“Well, my plan was to take a small amount now, buy a staff, charm a bag, and fit the rest in. I think that plan is still applicable, though it may have to wait until tomorrow. I’m… a unique kind of exhausted.” Byleth leaned back enough that his weight started to rest ever so gently on Forric. Trell, so caught up in the majesty of fortune, failed to notice.

“How could someone ever spend all of this?” Trell asked, still doing his damndest to fill every bit of his clothing that he could with valuables. “I mean, fuckin’ hell. It would take me years just to come up with enough that I wanted to use even a handful of it.”

“A good purchase for us to start with is a room at an inn for the evening so Byleth can rest,” Forric said, glancing down at Byleth, who glanced up at him, blue eyes shimmering a soft gratefulness that melted Forric’s heart. Trell may enamor him with adventure, but he didn’t have anything resembling the bond he shared with Forric. Forric understood Byleth. He knew what he needed. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Byleth exhausted after overuse of his magic.

When he got like this, Byleth liked tea with cinnamon and apple juices mixed in, to lay on Forric, and to listen to him read while a fire crinkled in the corner. Trell could sleep on the floor, for all he cared. Whatever rivalry they had, Byleth’s needs had to come first, and that meant he got the bed, and Forric shared it with him.

“I… concur, I suppose. Let’s go,” Trell said, apparently content with the amount of gold in his pockets for the moment.

Byleth shared an intimately small smile with Forric, then followed him out of the vault.