"State your business!" The woman ordered, striding up to them confidently. Her short, cropped dark hair framed a face etched with stern determination. Piercing brown eyes swept over them, assessing the situation with a practiced gaze.

The insignia on her chest was like a beacon of hope, making Laurence exhale as a wave of solace washed over him.

Here, in this remote village, he had found an ally where he least expected it.

"Just looking for a place to rest our heads," Laurence started, stepping forward and offering a slight smile. "We've been through quite an ordeal."

"Clearly," the knight observed, her gaze sweeping over them. But as her eyes landed on Laurence, a flash of recognition passed across her face. "You're..." She trailed off, hesitating.

"Prince Laurence," he finished for her, straightening up. "And this is Avril, my… protector."

As if it chafed to have the title stated to others, Avril disengaged from Laurence's side, stepping away to stand on his own despite his injuries. He swept a lock of hair from his forehead and donned his usual placid smile.

Laurence could see the stubborn tilt of his chin and the set of his shoulders. Was he that unwilling to appear vulnerable in front of others?

"Protector, hm?" The knight's lips quirked in something that resembled amusement. "You both look like you could use a bit of protection yourselves right now."

"Then I shall revel in the misconceptions of others," Avril retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm; though it lacked its usual energy.

"I am Maudella, loyally at your service, my prince," the woman said briskly, snapping Laurence's attention back to her. "I'm part of the contingent that was sent to Nelbrek three years ago to assist with the governance and protection of the mining operations here."

"Mining operations?" Avril interjected, confusion visible in his furrowed brow.

"For sealing stones," Laurence explained, connecting the dots as memories resurfaced. Advisor Tellos had mentioned it once—Nelbrek Village sat atop a rich vein of the unique stones. It was a small detail lost amidst the myriad of facts he was expected to remember, now significant.

"Exactly," Maudella nodded, her gaze flicking between them. "They're the lifeblood of this village, and valuable beyond measure to the kingdom."

"I have no doubt," Laurence acknowledged. He glanced at Avril, noting the knight's forced look of indifference. Perhaps there was more to Avril’s discontent than just his injuries.

"However, there are more pressing matters at hand," Maudella announced abruptly, her eyes darting to the tavern's worn door behind them. "Excuse me."

With a purposeful stride that left no room for argument, she walked past them and pushed through the entrance. Laurence and Avril exchanged a brief, puzzled glance before poking their heads in behind her. Gray sat down beside them, uninterested in the affair now that they weren’t being threatened.

"Attention!" Maudella’s voice cut through the murmur of friendly conversation. The patrons, mostly miners with grime etched into their weary faces, turned as one toward the authoritative figure that had interrupted their respite.

"By order of Governor Trelain and the Knights of Loros, a curfew is now in effect," Maudella barked out, her eyes scanning the room, daring anyone to challenge her decree. "All citizens must return to their homes immediately."

A collective groan rippled through the crowd, followed by a cacophony of disgruntled mutters. Laurence could see the tension rising; these men were bone-tired, seeking solace in their ale and company. This was an unwelcome imposition.

"Curfew? Not this again!" A burly man with graying hair complained, his voice carrying over the din of protests.

"Anyone caught outside their dwelling after fifteen minutes will be heavily fined," Maudella continued, unfazed by the unrest her words had provoked. She stood firm, the very embodiment of unyielding law.

"Outrageous!" Another patron spat, slamming his mug down with a clatter that mirrored the rising anger in the room.

"Your cooperation is not optional." Her tone brokered no argument, cutting across the burgeoning rebellion like a whip-crack. "This is for your own safety."

The tavern slowly began to empty, the patrons casting wary glances at the knight who'd corralled them like unruly cattle. As the last of them filtered out, Maudella nodded to herself, satisfied by their mostly prompt cooperation.

With a swift turn on her heel, Maudella's jacket billowed dramatically around her waist as she marched out of the tavern.

"Please come with me, Your Highness," she beckoned without looking back, certain they would follow.

Laurence hurried to match her brisk pace while Avril’s stride was far less eager, his eyes narrowed in skepticism. "I don't trust her," he declared flatly, just loud enough for Laurence to hear.

The prince glanced over his shoulder, perplexed by Avril’s immediate lack of faith. "Why wouldn't we trust her?" He asked. There was a measured tone to his inquiry, one that sought understanding rather than contention.

Avril’s reply was only a derisive snort as he refused to elaborate. His suspicion hung in the air between them, a stark contrast to the relief and acceptance that Laurence felt in Maudella’s presence. 

Gray's silent paws padded close by, though the kreet's curious eyes flicked between the retreating backs of the villagers and Avril's brooding profile.

Maudella's gaze landed upon Gray with interest, her eyes focused on his back. "I see you’ve decided to travel with a kreet bound by an array, Your Highness. Am I correct in assuming you designed it yourself?"

"Indeed," Laurence responded, feeling a surge of pride for both his companion and his own handiwork. "I sealed him just this evening."

"Remarkable," she mused, further studying the intricate pattern adorning Gray's back. "You clearly have your father's touch—the royal family’s legacy will surely rise to even greater heights through you."

Laurence felt the praise like an ill-fitting garment, too loose in some places, too tight in others. Moridgale had been a testament to his shortcomings, a place where his supposed skill had done nothing to prevent disaster. But his doubts remained unspoken, locked away behind a mask of gratitude. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice betraying none of his inner turmoil.

Avril's lips briefly twisted to one side at Maudella's words, as if he were swallowing down something particularly vile. He kept his thoughts to himself, but his body language spoke volumes; it was clear that he’d prefer to keel over and die in the street than be subjected to more of the current conversation.

As they walked on, Laurence noticed a handful of other knights had started to patrol the roads. A few of their faces dawned with recognition as they passed by, leading them to pause and quickly bow toward their prince respectfully before continuing on their way.

"The reason many of us are out at this time is because banditry has become quite the pest," Maudella remarked, her voice taking on a grave timbre. "Vagabonds have been bold enough to strike at travelers and our own knights alike. Food, coin—nothing's sacred to their greed."

Laurence and Avril shared a knowing glance. 

Those thieves hadn’t shied away from targeting the kingdom’s very own prince, and their leader seemed to have a special vendetta against anyone associated with the crown. It was audacity of the highest order.

"And these attacks—they occur frequently?" Laurence questioned.

"Too often for comfort," Maudella reluctantly admitted. "However, it's not just petty theft; it's strategic. They hit supply lines, disrupt communications. Their actions are a thorn in our side."

"Are there plans in place for how to resolve this?" The prince wondered, his gaze searching hers for confidence.

"Rest assured, your highness." Maudella's eyes gleamed with determination. "We're close to tracking down their base. Soon, they’ll find themselves ensnared by the very hands they aim to disrupt."

"Good," Laurence replied tersely. He shuddered at the thought of any of his people experiencing a battle similar to Avril’s nerve-wracking fight with the bandit boss.

Trailing just behind, Avril remained silent, but his lips pressed into a thin line.

Maudella continued guiding them until they reached a prominent building that seemed to command attention amongst the rustic village scenery. The sturdy, three-story structure loomed with an air of authority, its windows shuttered against the night.

"Here we are," she announced as they approached. "The governor's residence doubles as our barracks. The architecture is recent; a decision by the crown to establish a more permanent military presence."

She pushed open the heavy oak door and ushered them down the hall into a modest chamber. A pair of narrow beds flanked a small table with a bright oil lamp.

"Make yourselves at home," Maudella said. "I'll inform the governor of your arrival come morning. He's already retired for the night."

Laurence thought the governor really ought to be awakened, given the village’s current alert status, but kept his misgivings to himself.

Perhaps the bandit raids had become common enough that the knights grew accustomed to handling such matters independently.

With a curt nod, Maudella bid them goodnight.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Laurence, Avril, and Gray enveloped in the room's simple tranquility.