From the newly made Avril-shaped crater in the ground, Laurence’s knight choked. 

The taste of iron was thick on Avril’s tongue as his vision swam erratically. He lay there, fighting for consciousness, his ears ringing with the echoes of his body’s collision with the unforgiving ground.

"Finish it!" Someone barked in the distance, a voice lost among the cacophony of battle cries and the blood-rush in Avril's ears.

The boss stepped back as his chest heaved with exertion and wrath. He lifted both chains attached to his mighty stone weapons, eyes blazing with deadly intent as he prepared to bring the mallets down upon Avril's unprotected head.

"Look there!" A bandit's shout pierced through his furious haze, disrupting the tension.

Everyone's eyes snapped to where the bandit pointed toward—a plume of dark smoke billowing ominously from deeper within the forest, its murky tendrils clawing at the sky as it spread like a stain.

The boss' expression shifted, conflict playing across his face. His muscles tensed, ready to deliver the deathblow, yet his gaze remained locked on the rising smoke. Time seemed to slow as the bandits exchanged glances, the gravity of the situation dawning upon them.

Then the boss growled, a low rumble of anger and frustration as he recognized the smoke's source. "Teva," he hissed, the name a curse upon his lips. His wrath redirected, he turned sharply on his heel, dropping his poised mallets to his sides and abandoning their promise of finality.

"Back to camp, now!" His voice cut through the haze, commanding and terse. "Move!"

The bandits hesitated only for a heartbeat before springing into action, their earlier bloodlust forgotten in the wake of a new issue. Among them, a pair struggled to hoist a comrade, his leg dangling at an unnatural angle—a souvenir from Gray's sharp bite.

Avril lay dazed, his body protesting every beat of his heart, each throb a reminder of the boss' brutal strength. He squinted through the pain, expecting the crushing blow to come at any moment, even as the boss turned away.

The bandit leader paused, a shadow of indecision flickering across his hardened features. He looked back at Avril, considering the knight sprawled vulnerably on the ground. A single, swift motion could end it all.

But Gray was no longer idle. The kreet had regained his footing, stalking closer with predatory grace. Laurence slowly stood to move closer to his knight and animal companion, eyes wary behind his glasses.

"Consider yourselves fortunate," the boss spat out, his gaze lashing out at Laurence and Avril in turn. "Something of greater importance calls me." His voice seeped with venomous promise as he backed further into the dimness of the forest, his massive form melding with the shadows.

"We better not cross paths again within my territory," he growled, a final warning carried on the wind as he disappeared into the labyrinth of trees and underbrush.

Laurence watched the retreating figure, his chest heaving with anxious energy.

The threat hung in the air, but the immediate danger had passed for now.

Avril pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the protest of bruised flesh and battered bones. He met Laurence's gaze in a wordless exchange. Gray whimpered between them.

That hadn’t gone well at all.

Laurence’s heart cycled between beating a rhythm of relief and dread, while Avril's breaths came in shallow puffs, his usually teasing eyes dulled by pain.

"Avril," Laurence began, his voice unsteady as he stepped closer to the knight. "You shouldn't have—"

"Shouldn't have what?" Avril cut him off with a hoarse chuckle, forcing himself to climb to his feet despite the evident agony it caused him. His hair fell in disarray around his face, streaked with dirt and sweat. "Made myself the target instead of you?" He grimaced, attempting to brush off the severity of his condition with that same sardonic tone he used like armor. 

But no amount of jest could mask the blood dripping down his face or the way his legs trembled as he tried to steady himself.

"Look at you," Laurence murmured, taking in the sight of Avril's battered form. It was a miracle he was conscious, let alone moving. "How are your bones not shattered?"

"I’m tougher than I look?" Avril quipped weakly, trying and failing to shrug off the concern etched into Laurence's features.

Laurence drew a sharp breath, torn between frustration and an aching sadness that filled his chest like a tangible weight. It was too much—the sacrifices Avril kept making, be it his own body or the lives of those around them.

"We… we shouldn’t linger here,” Laurence insisted, brushing aside his feelings to deal with more present matters. "Those bandits might return after they take care of whatever derailed them.”

The prince looked up toward the sky, where smoke could still be seen rising from the direction the men went. "Let’s hurry to Nelbrek. It should be safer with more people around."

Avril stared at Laurence incredulously. "Safer?" He scoffed, wincing as he straightened his back. "In your overall very brief experience outside the comforts of the palace, when has a crowd deterred an assassin's blade, Your Highness?"

Laurence did not—couldn’t—acknowledge the retort, stubbornly moving closer to offer Avril an arm to lean on so they could get moving.

"Do not touch me—" Avril began, eyes flashing with a fierce pride that had nothing to do with his role as protector, and everything to do with his refusal to rely on the prince for anything.

Laurence was taken aback by the venom in Avril's tone, but unwilling to back down. "Or what?" He challenged. "Will you push me away again? Strike me? Curse me?"

He stepped closer, meeting Avril’s eyes searchingly, seeking the truth behind the bravado. "I’m hardly afraid of your vitriol after all this time, and it’s more than apparent now that you would sooner let yourself be beaten into the ground than see harm come to me."

Avril's jaw clenched, his eyes darting away from Laurence's probing stare. "That's different," he muttered, though the argument sounded hollow even to his own ears.

"Is it?" Laurence pressed, now inches away, resolute in his stance. "Lean on me, Avril."

Several moments of charged silence passed, in which Gray looked between the two men with concern.

Then, finally, Avril's resistance crumbled, and he allowed Laurence to slide an arm around his waist, taking most of his weight.

"Fine," the knight hissed through gritted teeth, "But only because my back is absolutely killing me."

"Of course," Laurence replied indulgently. I have some supplies that might help with the pain once we find a place to settle down."

Gray, sensing the turbulency of their emotions, trotted quietly beside them as they slowly started to make their way to the village. He kept to his large form as a silent promise of protection, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with apprehension, ready to spring into action should danger rear its head again.

As time passed, the forest began to thin, and glimpses of thatched roofs appeared between the trees.

Laurence's arm ached from supporting Avril's weight, but he refused to complain. Avril's labored breathing and occasional grunts of pain were enough to spur him into moving faster.

"Almost there," he murmured, more to himself than to his companions.

They emerged from the treeline to find Nelbrek Village opened up before them; it was a hodgepodge of humble dwellings nestled against the backdrop of towering pines. It was peacefully quiet, with most residents having comfortably retired to their homes, oblivious to the drama that had unfolded in the surrounding woods.

The air was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood that clung to Avril.

Laurence's eyes darted from building to building, searching for any sign of an inn or tavern. The village was smaller than he'd imagined, each structure seemingly built from the same rough-hewn logs and thatched roofs.

"There," Avril wheezed, gesturing with his free hand.

Laurence followed his gaze to a squat building at the village's center. A wooden sign hung above the door, its faded paint barely legible in the dim light—'The Spiral Oak.'

They approached, the weathered boards creaking beneath their feet as they stood in front of the door. The sounds of muffled laughter and conversation could be heard from within, along with the clinking of glasses.

Laurence hesitated at the threshold, acutely aware of their disheveled state. Avril's clothes were thoroughly stained with blood and his back was caked in dirt, while Laurence's garments had small tears and were littered with forest debris.

There was also Gray, who loomed behind them. His size would likely make him a terrifying sight to anyone inside.

"You there!" Someone called out from behind.

Gray made an about-face jump to growl warningly at the newcomer.

Laurence could feel the way Avril’s body immediately tensed, as if preparing to shove aside all pain and take a fighting stance. The prince slowly turned them around.

There was a woman standing there. One dressed in a familiar uniform Laurence had been accustomed to seeing every day back at the palace. A uniform bearing his kingdom’s crest.

‘A Loros knight!’ The prince thought with relief.