At the base of Velmund Drum, the Cimbran soldiers divested themselves of their armor, running from the cries of their commanding officers as they threw themselves into the lake. It was better to accept punishment after the sweat and dirt was soaked from their bodies, rather than wait for permission. Only the recruits from Hofingrad held themselves back, watching from the shore with the officers.

"I feel like we missed our chance to join them," said Min, staring longingly at the cool, refeshing water. "Could we... join them, sir?" he asked one of the officers.

"Latrines," he commanded, pointing Min and Rel towards the edge of the woodland. "And you," he said, addressing Pike, "Tend to your duties."

The officer was too tired to wrangle a dozen wilful men from the water, instead, he stripped off his cuirass and joined them. Velmund was getting closer, and his wife would be grateful that he'd bothered to bathe at all. Pike had no such opportunity to freshen up. Wiping his sweat-soaked brow, he headed to the carriage and hoped the witch smelled worse than he did.

It had been a day since they'd parted. Pike could feel his heart vibrate against the metal of his armor as he stepped inside the carriage, supplies in hand.

"Is it you..?" asked the witch, his voice verging on desperation.

"It is! I'm here, I'm sorry I didn't make it this morning, I failed to wake and-"

"Hurry!" cried the witch, "I've been holding this flagon all day!"

Wedged between his legs was the stone flagon that Rel had kindly left behind should the witch need use of it on the journey. He was thankful at first and quickly filled it, before realizing the stopper was out of reach. On the long and bumpy road, he'd kept hold of the flagon, fearing the stench should he spill it.

Pike took it quickly, setting it carefully on the floor and filling Min's wooden cup with water so that the witch might drink.

"Make the light," said Pike, pouring a second time, and passing the cup into the witch's hand. 

"I can't hold it," he replied, "My wrist... it's too weak."

Pike cursed Rel's thoughtfulness; holding the cup with one hand, and gently rubbing the witch's wrist with the other.

The incantation spoken, a light appeared. Pike made note of the mistakes in his own recitation; ingraining each sound into his memory. The witch's complexion looked paler, his eyes ringed with a darkened hue.

"Did you sleep at all?" asked Pike.

The witch shook his head.

"We've stopped at a lake near the Velmund Drum," he told the tired prisoner, "If we can get you to it, that would be enough. Wouldn't it?"

The witch looked pained. "Please. Stop this," he said, "I have accepted what my life has become. I want no more blood on my hands."

"Not even the soldiers that put you here?"

"Your blood," said the witch, "I don't want your blood on my hands."

"You have little faith, sir," Pike replied, "That I'd let them outrun us. You wouldn't leave me behind, would you? This land of light," his finger swirled around the cup, "I'd like to see it for myself."

"Grunterbad..." 

"Is that its name?" asked Pike.

The word had fallen from his lips before he'd found the sense to swallow it. 

"Your fever," said the witch, "Has it gone?"

Pike bent down, gently resting his head across the witch's hands. A finger stirred beneath him, softly brushing his hair as he basked in the quiet comfort.

"When we reach Velmund, know that I have been grateful for your company," said the prisoner, "and know that I am thankful for your concern. Whatever awaits me, I shall not fear it."

The soft voice could not mask the bitter sting of the witch's words. He meant to let them take him, to leave his fate in the hands of the Protector. Pike closed his eyes and hardened his resolve.

"We need only make it to the water. No one has to die, not if it would pain you. When the guards change... that's it. That's more than enough. The water in the cup. Can you cut through the water into the lake? They're all of them bathing there. Whosoever has the key, if it touches the water, couldn't you take it?"

"Impossible," said the witch, a flicker of curiosity caught on his brow.

Pike raised his head and pressed the cup once more to the witch's unwilling hand.

"I told you, it's impossible! To find a tear that small, to blindly reach into the darkness; I haven't the power to find it."

"Time... time you said, it works differently. The other side of the velvet water... is it the same here? If in the future you got hold of the key, could you leave it somewhere? Somewhere you could find inside the confines of the cup?"

"Time passes strangely, yes; but it doesn't move backwards... That's not how it works."

"Then how does it work?! Tell me! You must think of something, something that can save you!"

Pike's eyes were pleading, desperate; the only plan he'd thought of was too great a risk to the prisoner's safety. He wanted the witch to find an alternative, to magic up a solution that harnessed his power in a way that Pike could not have dreamed of.

"Please," he begged, "Can't you think of a way?"

The witch pitied him; almost as much as he pitied himself. He couldn't raise a hand to soothe him, and had no words to alleviate his pain. He shook his head sadly, and looked away to escape those searching eyes.

Pike's body seemed to shrink, his shoulders slumping and his head falling to his chest.

"Then there's only one thing I can think of..." he said, "And I've been thinking all day. I haven't the strength to face an army, to wrest the key from the captors outside or even break your chains. But there is one certainty; they mean to deliver you alive. They wouldn't have me feed you, or even go to the trouble of your transportation should they think it acceptable to deliver a corpse."

"So you understand?" asked the witch, "I am not in so great a danger as you may have imagined."

"Even if now you must be alive, it bears no meaning on their plans for you in Velmund. That is how we shall strike. I am loath to do it, but we must risk your safety. That is the only way they would dare to remove you from this carriage."

"You mean to make me sick?"

"That would take too long, and cause you to suffer too greatly," said Pike, pulling a flint and kindling from inside his clothes, "This. This will be quicker."

Striking the flint against the steel bolts that held the witch's chains in place, sparks of flaming bright orange spat wildly at the bench.

"Stop this!" cried the witch, his plea falling on the warden's deaf ears, "Stop! Please! Guard!"

Pike quickly pressed his hand to the witch's mouth, the kindling catching alight before the soldiers could be alerted. The witch's wrists struggled against the chains that bound him; the firelight reflecting in his wide and fearful eyes.

"Just wait until it's grown a little more," said Pike, "Only when the carriage is done for would they think to release you."

The witch calmed himself, motioning with his eyes to the hand still covering his mouth. Pike assented with a meaningful nod, cautiously pulling back his hand and returning the witch's means to talk. Calling for the guard would only put his warden in danger of punishment. Instead, a string of words flowed from the witch's lips; stirring the wooden cup and commanding the water of another world to stream wildly through the sunlit rift. 

A torrent of water coursed through the air, splashing against the walls of the carriage and dousing the little fire that Pike had been cultivating. As quickly as it came, the water trickled away through the gaps in the floor, and with it, the light of Grunterbad vanished.

"You... you don't need the lake, do you?" Pike levied at the witch, "You could will the water with your words! You could free yourself if you wanted to!"

"No..." answered the witch, "It's not like that! I can move the water, but I cannot travel through it. Not like this."

The witch wanted to explain himself, that he could not make a tear upon a tear, that the rules of the velvet water were not governed by his wants. And yet how was the warden supposed to understand? Pike's accusing eyes glared back at him. 

"I would leave here if I could," he offered, "If it meant that no one was hurt, or that no one would have to bear the blame. It's not that I am happy with my fate, only that I have come to accept it. Please understand."

The guards began their knocks against the door; with Pike still inside, there was little opportunity for slacking off. Better the Hofingrad yokel was gone so they could return to their game of cards. Gathering everything up, Pike stuffed the dripping items beneath his armor.

"You make it hard for me to help you," he told the witch, "But I will not admit defeat. Not until the prison walls of Velmund stand between us!"

The witch closed his eyes, sinking back into the dampened dark as Pike gave the signal for the door to be opened.

"Make it quicker next time," warned the guard, "If it doesn't eat, just spit the food into its mouth."

The hatred in Pike's fierce stare went unnoticed by the disinterested guard. Once the carriage was bolted and secured, there was little else for him to think about besides conning Guin in another hand of Sixes. Pike's temper still flaring, he stomped off to find the others, unaware that Elion's shoulder was squaring up to block his path.

"Watch where you're going!" he bellowed, much to the amusement of his companions; delighting in Pike's staggering form as the soldier knocked his backwards.

On any other day, Pike might have ignored him.

"Hey! Prick from Velmund! I've had a shitty fucking day, how did you know I was itching for a fight?"

Elion regarded him strangely. He was scrappier than the other recruits, but clearly an idiot; vastly outnumbered and without the skills to defend himself. Had they been alone in this situation, he would have gone easy on him. But with the others looking on, the insult to his honor could not be so readily forgiven.

All the malice borne in his heart; the witch's suffering, the hope lost, and the unfair bias that skewed the world to the favor of monsters. Pike needed an outlet.

"Come on then you little shit," jeered Elion, "I'll show you how we-"

A swift right hook stopped short his words. It was true there was little call for bravado in Hofingrad, where citizens were largely content to conduct their lives in peace; but for the 'scrappy' Pike who lost his father young, there'd been ample opportunity to test his strength against those that thought him weak.

 Elion hadn't been ready for him. He reeled back and tried to regain his footing, but Pike's blows were relentless. The other soldiers had no choice but to concede their friend was out of his depth, stepping in to break them apart before Elion lost any more face.

"Pike!" shouted Min from across the camp, rushing to his side before the soldiers could have their retribution.

Their duties fulfilled, he and Rel were making their way back when the fight had broken out. If nothing else, Rel was happy to see his friend jostling with the lower ranks, rather than having reason to be reprimanded by the officers. Had he really attempted to free the witch, he wouldn't be caught in a shoving match with the Cimbran soldiers.

"Why are you picking on him?!" cried Min, "There's too many of you! Get back, get back! Let him be!"

"Picking on him?" a soldier repeated in disbelief, "Haven't you seen what he's done to-" 

Elion's shame was better left shrouded in silence.

"He's no better than a beast..!" he concluded.

"I'm sure things have simply gotten out of hand," reasoned Rel, "We're all of us tired from the march, and our friend just needs to cool down a little. Let me take him to the lake to refresh himself... there's no sense continuing to fight amongst ourselves."

Before they could deny him, Rel motioned to Min for his assistance, and prompty dragged Pike to the water.