They made eye contact, and Forric grinned. Trell frowned.

“What are you grinning at, you irritant? Is there something particularly amusing that has to do with falling through a floor, nearly suffocating, and getting separated from Byleth?”

“No, not of that. I find all of that troubling. I just was recalling, in passing, that the great Trell, so full of wit and cruelty, is a little spoon, and wanted to take a moment to acknowledge it.”

Forric started down the hallway, inching towards a staircase at the other end, and kept his sword and shield up and ready to move, should the inn decide to attack them again. Trell kept pace with him, knives similarly raised.

“Oh, you little… We haven’t the time to discuss this. Finding Byleth needs to be our priority. Have you forgotten the only reason your presence is tolerated near me? Or have you concocted a deep fantasy as we slept in the most unfortunate proximity I have ever experienced in my life that the two of us could somehow… copulate, and then… sleep in each other’s arms? Allow me to burst your fantasy: you smell, and your flesh is the most coarse I have ever touched. It’s like leather that’s been left out too long in the sun. Really and truly, I think your flesh is the antithesis of Byleth’s. And I think it’s been established that I do so crave Byleth’s flesh.”

Forric kept his advance towards the stairs up, until a door far in front of them flung open, then immediately slammed shut. He crouched down, bracing for any sort of impact, but nothing came. He looked back at Trell, whose eyes were sharp with focused nerves, then turned back and took another lumbering step forward.

Forric instinctively reached out to Byleth via their magical connection, but found it scattered and confusing. Byleth seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once.

“You and me both crave Byleth’s flesh. So let’s go ensure that it is wholly intact.”

“Move faster, and we can.”

“I move any faster, and this place eats us alive.”

“What makes you so certain of that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Trell, the fact that it’s actively trying to kill us with every step!”

“So what does walking slower have to do with staying safe?”

“If I go slower, I can react faster to an attack from behind the doors.”

“That sounds like an excuse.”

“Just shut up and watch my back, Trell.”

Trell grumbled behind him, but spun around so the two of them could walk back to back. The stairs were very near now, though Forric had the sudden fear that they wouldn’t reach the stairs.

As it turned out, the fear was one of substance. The second his bare foot touched the bottommost stair, it shattered into teeth and chomped up at his toes. He leaned back, colliding with Trell, and managed to keep his foot attached to his leg, but Trell lost enough balance that he stumbled back and was met with a doorknob to the kidney. The doors in the hallway were flinging open and shut with abandon.

Forric spun, ready to fight, but there was no figure to battle. No person to challenge him. Just a building bent on eating them both alive.

He swung his sword, splintering the nearest door. Trell rubbed his back to ease the pain, and gave him an incredulous look.

“What are you doing?” Trell asked.

“Fighting,” Forric grunted in reply.

“And what do you think dueling with a door could possibly accomplish?”

“It’s better than lobbing your head off and having to explain myself to Byleth, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you spend your time focusing on a way to get us upstairs near him instead of so bravely challenging lumber?”

Forric turned and glared. Trell smirked.

The doors kept opening and closing, revealing small peeks into cold and empty rooms. Some had beds, some had lavatory spaces, others were just… empty.

Forric brought his sword down with such might on the door nearest to him that a massive plank of wood was cleaved off in one heave. Trell almost stumbled back with surprise.

Forric picked it up off the ground and slammed it down with a force almost equal to his terrifying swing onto the first stair. The stair tried its hardest to crunch on the board, but it couldn’t seem to get its teeth sunk deep enough to make any sort of difference.

Forric stepped onto the board and began to rush up the stairs before any more stairs could come to life. Trell would be left behind, Forric would rescue Byleth, and they’d escape happily together. Trell wouldn’t be around to cram onto a bed next to any longer.

Forric was about halfway up the stairs when Byleth stepped out of one of the rooms near Trell still on the ground floor. Seeing Byleth left Forric pivoting, then collapsing back down the stairs gracelessly. The monstrous stairs snapped at him as he fell. One drew a chunk of flesh with it, though most barely pierced the skin. Trell burst into giggles, and Forric pushed himself to his feet, only glancing at the gaping flesh wound leaking on his bicep. His face was locked tight.

“Oh, the both of you… What a sight you are! It’s so good to see you. You haven’t a clue what I’ve just gone through. It’s felt like days! This place was a labyrinth out of my most horrid nightmares. You’re both a sight for the sorest of eyes. Honestly, I could just kiss you both.” A bag sat on his shoulder, and his arse peeked out from underneath his shorts again to the crouching Trell.

“As lovely as that sounds, we need to get the hell out of here,” Forric replied, grabbing Byleth’s arm and pulling him towards the front lobby.

“Unfortunately, I agree with the lumbering halfwit. We can kiss later, dear.”

“Right, right, of course,” Byleth replied, shuffling forward with them both. He looked over at Forric’s bloody arm. “Forric! You’re hurt. Here.” He stopped walking and raised his wand at Forric’s bicep. Trell narrowed his eyebrows but stayed silent.

Byleth whispered a charm, and Forric’s arm laced itself back together. He groaned, and the blood remained on his arm, but he was patched up in seconds. Byleth started walking towards the lobby again.

“Byleth… Won’t that drain you? Shouldn’t you be careful when you cast spells?” Trell asked, pushing between Byleth and Forric. Byleth grinned at him. It was a radiant grin, and it went straight to Trell’s pants.

“No, but your concern is noted, and appreciated, handsome. The wand is helping me channel my magics more productively. We can--” Byleth stopped mid-stride in the middle of the lobby. They were less than three meters from the door.

The innkeeper, her head lolling uselessly in front of her, and her arms raised at the wrist, as if someone was using her as a marionette, was levitating inches off the ground in front of him, and she had just snapped into existence between blinks of the eye. Trell raised his knives, and Forric stepped forward, shield at the ready.

“I figured out what you are,” Byleth told her. She did not react. Her body looked more corpse-like now. Her skin was an ashen gray, and her hair was thin and wispy. “You aren’t an innkeeper. You’re a Perimyan. ‘One With the Inn.’ It took me a while to jog my memory, but it’s all come back to me now. My studies were thorough. You probably don’t even know who I am. You’ve kept me alive to harvest my magics. The woman, the wand… She’s just a husk, now. The wand was just for show. Theatrics. I admire it, of course, but I cannot allow you to hunt any more mages. I’m going to burn this place down.”

The body in front of them withered more and more, until it was only skin tightened over bone and a pale white. It groaned in reply to Byleth, who took a step closer.

“In fact, you’re quite fascinating. Perimyans aren’t very common creatures. We only have four categorized in the entire Kingdom. All four are allowed to operate to limit the magical population, which I find to be cruel, but Mother and Father disagree. They step in to prevent me from destroying those, but you, an unregistered magical creature that actively harms people, sits here, close to the Capital City limits, and woefully unprotected by my ignorant family.”

The corpse levitated closer to Byleth. Trell and Forric exchanged glances.

“Byleth…” Forric warned.

Byleth raised the wand and whispered something.

The corpse tumbled to the ground and burst into dust. The entire inn began to rumble. Byleth looked back at his companions and rushed through the front door. Forric and Trell followed closely behind. Trell through a longing glance back.

The building, built tightly between a pub and a small shop, collapsed in on itself. Byleth leaned back to admire his handiwork for a moment, before Trell, still wearing nothing more than light coverage on the more private sections of his body, pushed Byleth out of the way. The street they were on wasn’t busy, though it had more activity than Trell was comfortable letting Byleth be seen by. Forric trotted after them.

Trell pulled them into an alleyway just past a few more buildings.

“Byleth… our clothes…” Byleth grinned and held up the bag that sat on his hip. He reached in and pulled out Trell’s jacket with some difficulty. Trell took it from him, admired it for a moment, then threw it to the side.

He wrapped his hand around the back of Byleth’s head, winding his fingers through that magnificent hair, and threw his other arm on the small of Byleth’s back, fingertips brushing the upper part of his arse, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Byleth’s eyes widened at first, then softened as he sunk back into the kiss. It was long and soft, and Byleth felt himself melting into Trell’s grip.

Trell leaned back, panting for air, and whispered: “You’re amazing. Absolutely brilliant. How did you do that? How did you know to do that? What sort of spell-? I… I just… I can’t. You’re breathtaking. You’re so talented.”

Blood rushed to Byleth’s cheeks. His lips parted to reply, but Trell pulled him back into another kiss. Byleth moaned a small, angelic moan.

Forric cleared his throat, and Byleth leapt a full meter away from Trell. Trell looked over at him, gaze searing.

“Keep your tongues to yourself, perhaps? People will see. Byleth has no disguise, and we have no more resources. We need to move. We need a plan, and we need some clothing. Now isn’t the time to snog.”

Forric’s gaze was fixed on Trell as he said all of this. Trell matched his intensity.

Byleth only smiled and pulled loose one of Forric’s boots from his bag, then lunged in for a hug when he saw Forric’s smile. While they hugged, Forric kept his eyes fixed on Trell, who looked up and pulled loose his own clothes from Byleth’s enchanted bag.