Laurence tugged the sleeves of his shirt further down to combat the slight chill in the air as they approached Nelbrek.

Avril's gaze lingered on the village's lantern glow in the distance, a stark contrast to the shadows that had begun to cloak their path after the sun had set. 

"Almost there," Laurence murmured, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion and relief.

"It’s oddly quiet," Avril remarked, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus his hearing. 

Even the typical ambiance of the forest seemed too still.

Gray stirred, a sudden tension seizing his small body. With a swift leap, he descended from Laurence's shoulder, transforming mid-fall. His scales caught the moonlight, casting a ghostly sheen over his enlarged form. His low growl rippled through the silent woods, reverberating with an ominous note that sent a shiver down Laurence's spine.

"What’s wrong, Gray?" Laurence asked, his hand reaching instinctively to adjust his glasses, as if clarity of vision could explain the kreet's behavior.

Avril stepped closer, his eyes scanning the tree line. He opted to trust in the animal’s instincts and assume trouble was near.

The kreet's growl deepened, his claws digging into the earth, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond. 

A rustle in the underbrush snapped Laurence's attention to their flank. He squinted, trying to discern shapes within the tangle of shadows and branches.

Suddenly, figures emerged from the darkness, cloaked in the forest's natural camouflage. Ten men, emboldened by their numbers, stepped forward with a menacing synchrony.

"Bandits..." Laurence guessed under his breath, his mind cataloging each detail. The crude knives, the makeshift weapons glinting wickedly in the dim light, and the few swords hanging in their grips with an air of stolen valor.

Avril's hand drifted toward the back of his glove, though he did not immediately draw his sword.

Gray shifted his weight, muscles rippling and fangs bared; a silent promise of violence to any who dared approach.

The bandits edged closer, their confidence growing as they took in the apparent vulnerability of their prey.

"Hand over your money and food!" A brazen member of the bandit pack barked, stepping forward with a swagger that belied his true status as nothing more than a common thief. His voice was rough like gravel, demanding submission.

Avril's response was immediate; he stepped in front of Laurence protectively, his slight frame deceptively nonthreatening. He cocked his head to one side, a grin flashing across his features, all teeth and mockery.

"Hoooh? So these are the notorious bandits we’ve heard so much about?" He taunted, his tone dripping with disdain, eyes glittering with scorn for the rabble before them.

Laurence's gaze darted from bandit to bandit, fists clenching at his sides as a smoldering rage ignited within him. These men preyed on the weak – likely the same criminals who had stripped those innocent siblings they'd encountered earlier of their meager possessions.

Gray could sense Laurence’s ire through their bond, the human’s rage flooding his body with energy. Thunderous growls reverberated through his throat while drool dripped from his sharp fangs.

The bandits, at first eager, now hesitated. Gray's imposing form instilled an instinctual dread. He was already large for its species, but most had never seen a kreet look so prepared to tear out someone’s throat.

Avril’s mocking laughter reverberated off the trees, goading the would-be attackers. "Don't tell me you're afraid of our little guardian here?" He taunted, his voice ringing with derision. "There's ten of you against the three of us, and this one—" He jerked his thumb back at Laurence. "Can't even fight."

Despite being surrounded by enemies, Avril still somehow made time to belittle his prince.

A couple of the bandits’ simmering anger boiled over at Avril's taunts. With a guttural shout, they charged, reckless and wild-eyed.

Avril didn’t blink. As the first assailant swung his knives, Avril snatched the man's wrists, unyielding as iron shackles. A swift, brutal headbutt followed, and the bandit reeled back, stunned, blades slipping from his grasp. Avril caught them mid-air without missing a beat. He sent the dazed bandit sprawling into the dirt with a prompt kick.

Another bandit lunged toward Gray, eyes filled with the fervor of battle. But the kreet was quick, jaws clamping down on the man with bone-crushing force. He could have torn him apart, yet suddenly, Gray faltered.

Laurence stood paralyzed with dread not far from him, staring fixedly at the rivulets of crimson that dripped from the kreet’s jaws and ran down the shin of the bandit yowling in pain.

The prince’s horror flooded their mental connection. The kreet couldn’t make complete sense of Laurence’s feelings, but he could tell the man was suddenly imagining the ground being drenched in vast amounts of blood, and such a scene was vastly disturbing to the human for whatever reason.

Not enjoying the distress being fed to him, Gray released his grip after a final, punishing bite. The bandit's leg gave way beneath him, snapping like dry kindling. With a toss of his head, Gray flung the wounded man back to his comrades.

Padding softly over to Laurence's side, Gray nudged the human gently, a low whimper in his throat as he sought to comfort him.

Laurence's gaze remained distant, his body frozen amidst the clash unfolding around him. The prince himself didn’t even fully grasp what was wrong with him as his hands trembled faintly.

Avril, meanwhile, was turning his new knives over in his hands, his lips curling into a smirk. He despised most weapons, considering them clumsy extensions at best, but the simplicity of the knives at least somewhat appealed to his sense of combat aesthetics. "Suppose you’ll do for now," he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning for the next threat.

As if conjured by Avril's readiness, the bandits regrouped and surged forward. Their movements were desperate, fueled by outrage and greed. But before they could close in, a voice cut through the chaos—a voice like iron striking stone.

"HOLD IT!"

The command halted the bandits in their tracks.

The foliage rustled behind them, and out stepped a figure that demanded silence without uttering another word.

The man’s dirty blonde hair caught the faint light, choppy locks framing a face marked by the harshness of life. Coal-black eyes scanned the scene with an intensity that pierced the gloom, reflecting a deep-seated resentment and authority honed by years of struggle.

The man's muscular arms, bare and scarred, spoke volumes of countless battles. From his hips swung two massive stones, secured by thick chains and inscribed with simplistic arrays.

"BOSS!" Relief washed over the bandits' features, their voices a chorus as they parted, allowing him passage. They had been a directionless swarm until now, but at his appearance, they found their compass, their unity restored in the shadow of his arrival.

The so-called 'boss’ advanced with a purpose, boots thudding heavily on the soft earth. The bandits' disarrayed line snapped to attention as he passed, a living testament to their respect—or perhaps fear.

Avril's amethyst eyes tracked his approach, standing his ground as the man loomed over him. The knight was unimpressed by the physical disparity between them.

The boss’ gaze fell upon Avril's chest, where the royal diamond insignia was emblazoned. "You wear the crest of the Loros Knights," he observed, voice as flat as the plains that stretched beyond the forest’s boundaries.

"It’s an eyesore, I know," Avril replied nonchalantly.

Unruffled by the quip, the boss turned his coal-black gaze toward Laurence. The prince, dressed unassumingly, seemed out of place next to Avril, but his noble features betrayed the disguise of common cloth to those with awareness.

"And him," the boss said, nodding at Laurence who appeared almost statue-like in his stillness. "You have him dressed like a commoner, but there aren’t many with the combination of red eyes and plum hair."

Laurence fought the urge to lower his gaze in order to escape the man’s stare.

The boss continued, "I’d heard tale that the crown prince had set off on his coming-of-age journey, but I didn’t expect so few to be traveling with him."

Laurence's silence hung heavy in the air, a confirmation more potent than words could ever provide.

“What’s this? Want to back down now that you know you’re robbing the crown?” Avril's voice sliced through the tension, a sneer curling his lips. His eyebrows arched in theatrical sympathy, eyes glinting with false pity.

The boss's response was silent but potent—a slow, deliberate movement of hands reaching for the chains at his hips. He gripped them tightly, pulling the massive stones from their rest and wrapping the links around his calloused palms. The mallet-shaped rocks swung ominously by his side, their arrayed inscriptions catching the scant light, whispering of danger.

“Not at all,” he replied coolly, advancing with a predator’s grace. An aura of lethal intent radiated from him, thick enough to cut. His movements caused even Avril—an individual not easily perturbed—to raise an eyebrow in genuine surprise, recognizing an unexpected ferocity.

“I will kill you and your royal rat where you stand.” The words were a low growl of promise.