Even with the skin glue, it was a few days before Ambrosius was feeling good enough to walk on his leg without a crutch. Even then, he still limped. Nimona ran errands for him, bringing news from the city each time.

To both of their surprise, his face hadn't gotten plastered on wanted posters on every screen in the kingdom. There were knights out on constant patrol now, but no announcements that Ambrosius Goldenloin was a traitor on the run. It was like they were trying to sweep the events of last week under the rug, trying to keep morale in the city at reasonable levels. The queen’s assassination still weighed heavily on everyone’s minds, after all.

Ambrosius couldn’t wait to get away from all this. He wanted to start over, somewhere else. Nimona had remained hesitant until Ambrosius mentioned there could be others like her outside - other Nimonas living happy lives, not trapped inside a wall. She could be with them. She seemed to warm up to that idea.

Before they enacted their escape plan, there was a chore to do. There were some things Ambrosius wanted to bring with him - mementos from his family that had been locked away in secret storage, off-books. Ambrosius had never understood why his family had a secret vault - The Institute’s vaults were safe places for valuables… and then he remembered how he and Nimona had snuck into the archives and he wondered how secure that place really was.

Nimona had smirked when Ambrosius told her about the secret storage vault.

“Figures. Your dad didn’t trust anyone with valuables.”

Ambrosius made a mental note to bring that up later - his figurative relationship with his dad was... complicated, but maybe Nimona could fill the gaps of knowledge provided by publicity. Right now, he was too busy designing the plan to get into the vault.

Ambrosius remembered something about a hand scanner - his mom had made sure he’d gotten registered as joint owner after his dad had died. He’d only visited the place twice in his life - once when he'd registered with his mom, and again after her death to stow some mementos he didn’t want sold or sent to The Institute archives. That was over ten years ago, and he’d gotten taller and his handprint bigger. He hoped the scanner would recognize him.

Since there weren’t any wanted posters out, it was a safe bet that the main populace wasn’t looking for him. That made their approach of the private vault easier. If there was one good thing that had come from Ambrosius’s time in the psych ward, it was that it’d changed his appearance. He was thinner now - the medications he’d been forced to take had made lose weight and muscle - and his eyes were still sunken, with dark patches beneath. Nimona had gotten him a set of cheap, ill-fitting clothes (how she got them, he didn’t ask,) that accentuated his lack of weight, and he was now walking with a limp; shoulders sagged, not with his head held high as he’d always done. Buzz cuts were also in style, so his lack of hair didn’t stand out. A pair of lensless glasses along with his scraggly week-old facial hair disguised his face just enough to pass as a downbeat citizen if you weren’t looking for Ambrosius Goldenloin, heroic knight of The Kingdom.

The family’s secret vault was situated under an old fancy restaurant. Ambrosius used a side entrance to get in, sneaking in with the workers. Nimona had shifted into a rat and was riding in the duffel bag he carried. They had an hour before closing time, when all the exterior doors would lock, trapping them in the building if they stayed inside. Ambrosius's phone had been left behind at the hospital, but Nimona had gotten her hands on an old media device that had a clock and timer on it. As they entered the building, Ambrosius set the timer for 45 minutes. That should give them plenty of time to get in, get stuff, and get out before closing.

Ambrosius took an elevator down into the basement, then limped to an electrical box built into a wall. The hand scanner was inside. There was a dim flash of light as he pressed his palm against the sensor. There was the buzz of electricity, and then… nothing. Ambrosius felt a burst of anxiety ripple through his chest. Did it not recognize him? Would he have to leave absolutely everything behind, even mementos of his family?

Just then, a tiny green light on the panel lit up as a section of the wall sank in, sliding to the side to reveal the passage into the vault. Ambrosius let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Old tech was just slower than new stuff.

Nimona’s muffled voice came from the duffel bag.

“Safe?”

“Moment.” Ambrosius mumbled. He stepped into the passage, pushing a button inside that closed the wall behind him. “Okay.”

Nimona sprang out of the bag, landing on her feet in front of him.

“Hoo! Freedom!” She darted down the passage, flicking on light switches as she went, Ambrosius limping along after her until they wound up in the vault.

Nimona looked around.

“Huh. Somehow I was expecting something…”

“Fancier?”

“Yeah. Knowing your dad.”

Ambrosius limped to a row of shelves. “I don’t think he came here often.”

“Figures.”

The vault wasn’t much to look at. It was small, and lined with metal shelves stuffed with cardboard boxes and trinkets. Nimona’s attention landed on one of several suits of armor on display in a corner.

“No way! I remember this!” She pranced to the display, lifting the arm of a set of armor. “This was your grandmom’s! She wore it to a fancy dinner once that was supposed to be formalwear only. Ticked off the then-director so much.”

Ambrosius gave a half smile. He hadn’t heard that story, but it sounded like something his grandmom would have done. He limped to one of the shelves, pulling out a box that looked newer than the others.

The faint scent of perfume crept out of the box as he pulled the lid off. It was his mom’s things; stuff he’d remembered her treasuring. Memories flooded Ambrosius’s mind, late nights when they’d had tea in the kitchen, library trips where he’d insisted Bal come with them, evenings watching movies together…

He picked up a small device resting among the other mementos. He clicked a button on the side and a small hologram display flickered to life above it.

“Hey mom.” Ambrosius’s voice from ten years ago crackled from the device.

Nimona stopped playing with the armor and came to watch. The display showed a woman in a hospital bed, tubes in her arms. She cracked her eyes open slightly as young Ambrosius’s voice came again.

“They said you weren’t doing too well.”

His mom’s eyes moved to look up at him, sad and tired. She was trying to say something, but only managed a few incoherent words. Young Ambrosius reached out and picked up her limp hand.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. They said I can stay as long as I want.”

His mom seemed to relax and her eyes closed. Young Ambrosius fumbled with the camera.

“I love you mom…”

The hologram stopped, frozen in time. Leaning against the shelf, Ambrosius dried his eyes on his sleeve and played back the video again.

Nimona watched.

“What did happen to her?” she asked, “As far as I heard, she just up and got sick and died.”

“That's… essentially what happened.” Ambrosius said quietly. “She caught a rare virus. No one knew how. The Institute didn't want to create a panic, so they kept it quiet.” Ambrosius watched the video clip to the end, stopping on the image of his mom falling asleep.

Nimona watched.

“What happened to her hair?” she asked, referencing the fact that his mom's long hair was missing, replaced by a knit cap.

“The medicine did that. They tried everything they had to save her… but it wasn't enough.”

“Hey well at least you match now.” Nimona said, rubbing a hand on Ambrosius's bare scalp.

Ambrosius cracked a faint smile and turned off the device.

“Maybe. But she wore it better.”