They eventually found a place to settle for the night but it was too dark by then. Alex was fumbling around for kindling in the staining black.

ㅤJames feigned sleep still, even if it was apparent to everyone that he was wide awake.

ㅤ“Um, Sir Alex. There's some kindling in these boxes somewhere,” Fletcher said.

ㅤJames smirked to himself.

ㅤ“I can't see well enough to look around the cart,” Alex replied.

ㅤIt was nice not being the only one in that predicament for once.

ㅤJames heard a small thud followed by Alex muttering: “Ow, shite.” In addition to that, cold water tapped his nape, the rain hesitating to fall. It was the perfect storm of irony to keep James in high spirits.

ㅤ“It's going to rain,” James warned, his voice laden with humour.

ㅤ“I know,” Alex snapped back.

ㅤ“If we hadn't left the previous carriage behind, we'd at least have a roof over our heads,” James pressed, knowing they’d no other choice.

ㅤ“Well, I can't predict the weather, Jean.”

ㅤ“It's Jack.”

ㅤ“It's bitch, is what it is.”

ㅤ“I found some lamp oil!” Fletcher piped up.

ㅤJames listened to the music of Alex stumbling his way back to the cart.

ㅤ“Thanks,” Alex murmured, taking it from Fletcher. “What were you even doing out here?”

ㅤ“Well, you've heard of me, right?” Fletcher answered. “I've spent my whole life in Lyeaister so I'm doing a little travelling. It's silly that the son of a merchant would only spend time in one city.”

ㅤJames caved into his curiosity. “Why's this dude so famous then? Didn't you say he was some kind of teacher?”

ㅤIt wasn't Alex who replied to him.

ㅤ“I'm not just a professor,” Fletcher declared. “I'm a philosopher, a writer, a poet, you name it. If it involves words, I'm famous for it.”

ㅤ“I don't believe in philosophy. It's drivel.”

ㅤ“No, I wouldn't have thought it was something you could manage. Fletcher was a teenage prodigy and exempt from military conscription because of it.” Alex paused. “I’d wager you also didn't complete your mandatory service, crook.”

ㅤ“I'm flattered you know so much about me,” Fletcher said.

ㅤ“He still is a teenager, idiot. Is it your personal philosophy to lick all boots or just the ones that are shiny?”

ㅤ“I'm not—”

ㅤFletcher was interrupted by Alex's response. “You upset I'm not licking yours? Your boots have walked through horse shite.”

ㅤJames tempered down the manic bubble of laughter that threatened to spill out. “I swear to Adeia, I will make you eat mine one day.”

ㅤ“There's not enough polish in this world.”

ㅤ“Please! You two, I'm cold,” Fletcher complained. “Why don't you help Alex build his fire if you want his attention that desperately?”

ㅤ“I don't need his help,” Alex grumbled.

ㅤJames’ eyes narrowed in the dark. “Well, with that attitude, now I want to.”

ㅤ“Don’t you dare.”

ㅤFletcher groaned. “I've had a pretty traumatic day.”

ㅤMake it a lifetime before you complain,” James said, but there wasn't much heat behind his words.

ㅤ“Well, that's kind of the point of me travelling.”

ㅤ“I didn't ask.”

ㅤAlex came over and lightly slapped the back of James' head in warning, James quickly seized his arm, got up, and twisted it behind Alex's back. James could feel, more than see, the other arm held up in surrender.

ㅤ“You need to stop picking fights,” Alex told him, his tone even. “I know you're frustrated but you're just making the inevitable more painful and difficult than it needs to be.”

ㅤ“I don't mind dragging people down to hell along with me,” James replied, tightening his lock on Alex's arm and hopefully causing some pain.

ㅤ“Even someone like Fletcher?”

ㅤJames hesitated for a moment. Behaving like this wouldn't kill Fletcher but it would still inflict pain and discomfort. James couldn’t know how disturbed the kid was if he couldn’t see it on his face.

ㅤJames released Alex and smacked him on the back of the head, thrice as hard, for good measure. Alex let him.

ㅤ“Fine. I'll help you build your fucking fire.”

ㅤAn awkward tension hung in the air as he searched for kindling nearby.

ㅤ“I thought James was supposed to be the prisoner?” Fletcher later said as James brought his haul of dry wood to the carriage. Alex wasn't as lucrative in his search, finding nothing. James was impressed with himself.

ㅤ“He is,” Alex confirmed. “It's... complicated.”

ㅤ“It's quite simple actually. Alex keeps crossing the line and withstanding the consequences of doing so.”

ㅤ“That... doesn't sound like something a prisoner would say,” Fletcher murmured.

ㅤThe kid was getting worried about their dynamic. It would look strange to an outsider—neither man had particular control over the other.

ㅤ“You're fine,” he told Fletcher. “It's just Alex that should be worried.”

ㅤ“I'm not,” Alex let him know.

ㅤ“Again. I did not ask. Now, give me the lamp oil or suffer the consequences.”

ㅤAlex did so, thrusting the ceramic jar into his chest more aggressively than necessary.

ㅤ“Good boy.”

ㅤ“Fuck you.”

ㅤAs James poured the oil onto the kindling grid, Fletcher set up his nest under the carriage to hide from the steadily worsening rain. It came alight easily and James immediately abandoned it, relegating its care to Alex. It needed watching to see if it could withstand the moisture.

ㅤJames was happy sitting against a tree, as always.

ㅤ“Don't the horses need shelter?” Fletcher wondered. “They're going to get cold.”

ㅤJames ruffled the water out of his hair. “They're animals. They're clever. They'll find a place under some trees. I gave them a long enough tether.”

ㅤ“And what about you? There's enough room under here for both of you.”

ㅤSome of the humour returned to James. “You want to sleep next to a scary murderer?”

ㅤ“…I thought you said they were just rude carvings.”

ㅤ“Right, sure. I'm more comfortable in the open.”

ㅤWeirdly, it seemed Alex was the same. Alex had set himself under a different tree.

ㅤ“Shouldn't he be tied up if he's a murderer...?”

ㅤJames chuckled at that, the memory bringing him genuine happiness.

ㅤ“Theoretically, aye, he should be...” Alex hesitated. “But, you're fine. He doesn't hurt innocent people. Do you, James?”

ㅤJames raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. The flame flickered in the black pools of his iris. “Are you asking, or are you confirming a suspicion of yours?”

ㅤ“Confirming,” Alex answered, sincere.

ㅤJames thought about what kind of reply he should give. “Well... you're certainly close. Now you just have to ask yourself what an ‘innocent’ person is.”

ㅤ“Someone who hasn't committed a crime?”

ㅤ“Not telling. Now it's my turn to receive an answer. Is your dad of your blood?”

ㅤA flash of... something crossed Alex's face—too fast for James to catch. He could see Alex chewing the inside of his cheek in the dim light, their bodies closer than he’d thought. He only had to stretch his leg to touch the other man. He stopped himself from doing so.

ㅤ“No. He's not.”

ㅤJames smiled to himself. Alex wasn't an illegitimate child. He would be a son from his mother's previous marriage or an adoptee. James was one step closer to figuring out his identity.

ㅤ“Fletcher,” James called, changing the subject for Alex's sake. “What's your most famous thing?”

ㅤFletcher's gaze bounced between the two of them, his eyes inquisitive and bright despite the dark bags that underlined them.

ㅤ“A poem, actually,” Fletcher said. “Whilst my philosophy is more popular with scholars, my most famous piece was a poem which is popular with commoners.”

ㅤAlex welcomed the distraction. “‘The Elegy of the Sun’, right?”

ㅤ“That's the one!”

ㅤJames rubbed his hands together, the damp bandages sticking to his skin. “Never heard of it.”

ㅤ“It's more popular in the Ankaid territories,” Fletcher admitted. “It has two interpretations. From the point of view of the ‘sun’ in the sky, or the surviving ‘son’ of the Ankaid royal house.”

ㅤJames blankly stared into the fire, his mind going numb. “Fabian.”

ㅤAlex jerked his head but James didn't need the warning. He wasn't going to say anything about the assassination if he wished for Fletcher to live.

ㅤFletcher laughed a little. “You're probably the only person alive who wouldn't address His Majesty properly. But, yes. It's about the melancholic beginning of King Fabian's reign after his family died in the blaze, paralleled by the loneliness of the great sun. Clever, huh?”

ㅤJames was silent for a moment.

ㅤ“Sure...” he trailed off. Against his better judgement, he couldn't help but add: “But, why Fabian? Why not someone else?”

ㅤBoth men’s faces were confused.

ㅤ“What do you mean?”

ㅤ“You're a commoner, right?”

ㅤFletcher shook his head slowly. “Not anymore.”

ㅤ“But you were,” James clarified before looking down to pick at his fingernails. “I'm sure a lot of people died that day, yet the only person who is celebrated is Fabian. Sure, he lost his family—but what about all the other families who lost their loved ones? He wasn't the only one. I just don't understand why it always has to be about him.”

ㅤAfter glancing up at the men again, he regretted saying anything. Both sets of eyes were on him in an awkward silence.

ㅤ“Well... I suppose that's true,” Fletcher said, clearly unsure of what to say.

ㅤJames cleared his throat. “I didn't mean to criticise your life's work. Those were just my thoughts. Good night to you two.”

ㅤJames shuffled, lying down with his head resting on the crook of his elbow, facing away from the men and the fire. He didn't hear the other two move for quite some time. They let the subject go, thankfully, but he was annoyed he hadn’t stopped himself—Eris would’ve stopped him if she were there.

ㅤHe needed to remember that those kinds of things weren't any of his business anymore. He killed people and received money. That was it.

ㅤIt seemed his mentor hadn't completely beaten his past life out of him.