Pike returned to his friends in better spirits than they'd seen for some time. Min was still on edge, convinced the soldiers were up to no good; but the seldom seen joy on his sour-faced friend was infectious. As the march began, he sang a song from home, and thought of better days ahead with the comforts of home. 

Hanging at the back of the group, there were only the backwards sneers of the soldiers to contend with. At least no one was standing on their heels, or kicking up the rocks that littered the mountainside path. Even if the officers called them slow and lazy, it was better to retain their safe distance than risk closing the gap.

"Tomorrow!" Min declared, "We should reach Velmund by tomorrow; pick up our wage, return these cumbersome and ill-fitting metal prisons, and turn for home. No wonder Pike's in such a good mood!"

Pike's mood was entirely dictated by his belief that tonight he would free the witch from his chains, and carry him to the nearest of body of water to make their escape. Reflecting on Min's happy musings, he began to think less of his plan on how to save the witch, and more so on the others they'd be leaving behind.

He was sure that even if the witch never made it to Velmund, the soldiers would still require compensation for their efforts. It may not be the grand reward they'd envisaged, but a little coin went a long way in Hofingrad. Min and Rel surely wouldn't starve. His own wage forefeited, only the current contents of his coinpurse could be returned home to his mother. If he left it with Min, there was no risk of it being carelessly spent before the pair made it back. 

He wondered if his mother would notice when he didn't return. He hadn't told the others, but in recent years she'd grown more withdrawn; leading a life entirely separate from her son. He'd asked her once, when he'd gone two days in the same house not seeing her face, if anything was wrong.

"You've grown to look like your father," she'd told him, "A painful reminder... of a man who'll never come home. It's time you found yourself a wife, someone who can stand the sight of you."

Her words were cold, but the hand that softly traced the contour of his cheek held no hatred. An extra portion was always cooked and left in the pot, but mealtimes were never shared. Had Pike the inclination to find a bride before meeting the witch, he might well have saved his mother the torment of seeing him, and be settled somewhere down the coast with his own unwanted child.

It was just as well the Cimbran army needed to boost their dwindling ranks; he left the animals to the care of his mother, and gave her the space to finally breathe without the ghost of his father hanging over her.

The assumption of their continued well-being relatively assured, Pike returned to thoughts of his own uncertain future. He wasn't sure what to expect on the other side of the water; how they might support themselves, or where they might live. He apologized in advance to his mother, knowing the promised coin purse might actually serve him better in Grunterbad. There was much he wanted to ask the witch regarding their new homeland.

Was magic as free there as it used to be on the Cimbran Isle? Is it a peaceful place? Are the people kind? Will they come to accept two strangers as their own..? Two men as husband and wife..? His giddy heart was ringing with curious excitement.

The march was brought to a sudden halt. Far in the distance, on the dusty road ahead, three men on horseback rode to greet the officers.

"What's going on?" asked Min, as they naturally joined the tail end of the others, "There isn't a toll to pay, is there? I thought the roads to Velmund were free to travel!"

The soldier in front hadn't thought at first to answer him, but couldn't help rolling his eyes at Min's suggestion, before the urge to correct him became too strong.

"They've come from the Protectorate, here to inspect the prisoner. Why else do you think the Cimbran army would be held to a stop? Not to pay some fucking toll, I'll tell you that much!"  

"What do they want with it?" asked Rel, eyeing Pike's reaction to the news that powerful reinforcements had arrived.

"To check it's still breathing," came the soldier's obvious reply, "There's no sense hauling a corpse back to Velmund."

Pike craned his neck to get a better view of the newcomers, as they were led to the door of the carriage. Inside was his witch, the precious hairpin on his sleeve. He hoped they wouldn't notice it, that he wouldn't be harmed... that the witch would rip their bodies apart, grab his hand, and make a break with him for freedom without ever looking back.

The guard pulled back the bolt, the door opening only a sliver before it was ordered shut again.

The lump in Pike's throat sank back into his chest. 

The emissaries seemed satisfied enough to continue the march, the soldiers falling back in line as The Protector's men took the lead. Tired feet drudged onwards, and the air was alive with speculation. Pike increased his pace, if only to listen in on the thoughts of the Cimbran troops.

"Must've seen it's not dead then," said one, "But not bothered enough to talk to it."

"The Protector sent someone at least... the Maddening Witch must be worth more alive than we'd thought."

It didn't matter that they'd come; what were another few soldiers? The odds were already stacked against them. So long as their means to pick the lock lay undiscovered, there was still a chance. Pike knew too well that the guards were lazy; that the farside door was unprotected through the night, and that soldiers sneaking from their beds faced little fear of discovery. It would work. It had to.

When the sun no longer lit their path, the decision was made to camp for the night. The usual governance of the officers was ceded to the strangers from Velmund; a tension perceived from the highest ranks to the lowest. Where autonomy had been commonplace, now eggshells were strewn before every action that needed to be taken. Only Pike was bull-headed enough to continue as he had the day before.

"What are you doing?" asked the guard, his eyebrow cocked at the presumptive warden lingering by the carriage.

"The same as I always do," answered Pike, "I've come to feed the witch. Why? Should I come back later?"

"There's no need," said the guard, "No feeding today."

The air in Pike's chest seemed to expand and diffuse beyond the confines of his body. The witch was only a short distance away from him... the carriage that he'd entered daily, the bolt that was opened solely for his use. What did he mean there would be no feeding? Was the witch to be left to starve when they were so close to the capital?

"On whose order?" challenged Pike.

The guard laughed. "You think very highly of your position here," he said, a derisive smirk twisting his apathetic countenance, "Mine is the only order you need follow. Now fuck off."

It was still too early to admit defeat. The officers had told him nothing of a change in duties, why would he take the word of a belligerent guard? Stowing the witch's rations in a spot by the carriage, Pike went in search of authority.

The officer's camp was set apart from the rabble, their fine tents already erected; and The Protector's men holding court above them all. Their appearance on the road had come as no surprise, but their obvious disdain at having to 'rough it' for a night was somewhat unexpected. No one wanted to be there. There were comfortable homes, wives and loved ones only a days' ride away; having suffered the journey all the way to Hofingrad and back again, the officers had little sympathy for their inconvenienced superiors.

Nor did they have the patience for Pike.

"Um... excuse me... I'm the one that's been tending to witch," he declared, having dared to interrupt them.

"And what of it? Is there intelligence you wished to share?"

That he hadn't been thrown out for insubbordination was a feat unto itself. It was fortunate that the officers were already primed to be on their best behavior, or else his sudden introduction would have been met with a swift backhand, and an order to return to his rank.

"No intelligence sir, but there seems to be some confusion. I was denied permission to enter and feed it this night."

All propriety was cast aside; this sniveling yokel had come crying that his little job had been taken away.

"And... what of it?!" the angered officer replied.

"The witch is weak, if it is not fed then-"

"Then it won't cause mischief when we arrive, will it?" a helpful voice from the Protectorate explained, "Go, find a use for yourself."

The decree issued, there was no opportunity for complaint; Pike was quickly dragged away and exiled to the far side of the camp. Inside the carriage, the witch was alone; hungry and cold. No sustenance was coming, no warmth... Pike pictured him waiting. Waiting in vain through the long hours of the night. His fists clenched in frustration, his desire to see him too strong.

"Pike," said Rel, an unwelcome hand resting on his shoulder, "Sit down a minute."

His friend's eyes blazed back at him, urgent and dangerous, and with no thought of sitting idle.

"Pike," he repeated, lowering his volume as he leaned towards his ear, "If you act foolishly... they will catch you. And they will hurt you both."

The words ringing, and the hand on his shoulder guiding him down, Pike took a seat on the ground; his ragged breathing beginning to calm. He needed to be smarter than we was, to think faster, to think of something, anything.

"How did you know?" Pike asked his friend, "What was on my mind?"

"I know you," Rel replied, "And I know when you're planning to butt in places where you have no business to. The Maddening Witch is a prisoner of The Protector; they will receive a fair trial, and if no crime has been committed, will be granted their freedom. Whatever conclusion you may have come to yourself, it does not matter."

How could it not? There was more to this than injustice - the witch was his intended; how could he walk away and leave his fate in the hands of those that hated him? What hardships must he suffer before they could see his innocence? He had suffered enough.

Rel saw the panic in his eyes.

"And what do you expect that we can do about it?" he asked, "We're this close to the city! It's not like there's a tunnel you can dig! Face it Pike, you cannot help the witch any more than you have. Your kindess and understanding has been enough... but you cannot change the world."

The witch's sentiments were echoed once more. Why was everyone so accepting of things so inherently wrong? Maybe Pike had yet to see enough of the world to so easily acknowledge its conventions. But he'd seen enough to know it needed changing.

"What if it was Ursa?" asked Pike.

Rel's chubby little brother was hardly likely to get himself into the kind of trouble the Maddening Witch was facing. "It would never be Ursa," he affirmed, "He stole some sausages once... but no one ever claimed he took a life."

"And what if that was all the witch had done? Stolen some food, and was chained like an animal. What if someone lied? Told the world that Ursa hurt someone? What if no one believed the truth about him? Don't you see, Rel? It could happen to anyone!"

"No," said Rel, determined that the Protectorate would never be so callous, nor so biased; "The practice of magic is outlawed... the witch persists in casting spells. There is no guilt without foundation. Think clearly; why would they arrest someone that had done nothing wrong? Tonight you stay by my side."

"And where will I sleep?" asked Min, walking up to join them and catching only the end of their conversation.

"You'll sleep the other side of Pike," ordered Rel, "And between us, there'll be no chance for stupidity. From now until our job is done, the three of us stay together."

The hand returned to Pike's shoulder, the comforting touch exerting a grip that emphasized the words left unspoken; I will not let you risk your life to save another. I will not let you die.