“Die?” Roel repeated.

“Sometimes, it’s better to give up and start anew,” Joseph, who was standing to his right, said with a mournful expression.

“War is coming again,” the prince said. His words were somber and clear as if he were seeing into the future. “The siege was just the beginning. My brother has been biding his time these past four years, and once he obtains some justifiable reason to wage war, he’ll use it.”

Roel couldn’t agree or disagree. He had only caught glimpses of the king. He had hoped that he was not like his father, but that’s all he could do. Whether or not King Mathieu chose to fight was out of his control.

The prince seemed to have read his mind. “There is nothing we can do. The Royal Council is bloodthirsty. No matter what happens, people will die.”

“The prince is too kind-hearted to lead men into battle,” Joseph said with a faint smile.

“Nonsense.” Prince Ghislain scowled at him. “I just don’t want anyone’s blood on my hands.”

“I still don’t understand what you want from me,” Roel said.

“You will help me fake my death,” the prince said simply, as if such a task was effortless. “My brother would never allow me to abdicate. They would laugh at him for letting me get away. I would be hunted down for the rest of my life.

“So, the quandary was how I would die in a convincing fashion. We had thought of a plan, but it would be easier with your help. We’ll spread rumors that you and I had a falling out during our journey. I will have grievously insulted your honor, and you will threaten to come later for your vengeance. There is no way I could resist against a paladin, especially the one who led the attack at the Battle of Wetshard.”

He didn’t know what to say. His head was in disarray. What of his mission? Or, and there was the paranoia again, was this just some convoluted trap?

Two words escaped him: “Why me?”

There was a silence in the tent for a moment. Joseph shifted uncomfortably from side to side, and the prince looked Roel in the eyes as he spoke.

“I’ll admit, I mistook you as just another vain paladin when we met at the siege. But when we met again, there was a certain feeling I got that I confirmed today after you killed the monster. It was the expression on your face. You were not triumphant. You were not basking in the glory. The expression on your face was one not belonging to a warrior who had just won a grueling fight in the forest, but a child who had gotten lost and stumbled upon one.

“Roel, are you not looking for a place to die?”

He had no words. Anger filled him, but it took many forms. One was indignation: how dare the prince assume these things about him? Next was humiliation: was it that obvious? He had always prided himself on his ability to hide things from other people and even from himself. Then, the third was a hot and fierce hopelessness that could be expressed as a single word: yes.

“I understand more than I want to,” the prince said quietly. “But you don’t have to die. You can join us. We have someone at the castle who will lie about your whereabouts, and that’ll get them off our trail. We will sail away from this continent, away from my brother’s wars.”

“It will be a small group,” Joseph added. “Some of Rados’ men will be joining us, but a paladin’s help would make a huge difference.”

“Is it not tiresome? These nobles always sizing you up, waiting for you to succeed so they can fawn on you or waiting for you to fail so they can criticize you behind closed doors?” The disdain in the prince’s voice was acrid. “They will call you a traitor. A fool. But what is a good reputation worth when it’s lauded by bigger fools?”

“I…,” Roel said weakly. Not even an hour ago, he had been surveying the area to plot the prince’s murder. But now he had been offered a chance to escape from it all. “But I don’t understand. Wouldn’t I complicate matters by getting involved? They would hunt me down, too. They wouldn’t let someone, especially a paladin, get away with murdering a prince.”

“Yes, you could make things more difficult,” Joseph admitted, but his expression was kind. “But we can’t exactly leave you behind now that we’ve met you.”

“You’re wasting your talents,” Prince Ghislain said, his arms crossed over his chest. “I hate seeing a man who has such little faith in his own life.”

Their words seemed illogical to him. Were they not worried that he’d betray them? Why take the risk of divulging their plan to a man they barely knew? He was a Divine Paladin, someone who had sworn loyalty to the Lord and the king. He couldn’t be trusted.

Then, for some reason, he was reminded of the soldier Mateo who he had seen sitting by himself earlier. He remembered the lonely expression on the young man’s face, the tense way he squared his shoulders as he ate his meal by himself. Without much deliberation, he had approached Mateo to assuage the familiar loneliness he saw in the young soldier.

So, Prince Ghislain’s offer was…

“I thank you for extending your kindness to me,” Roel said. “Please give me some time to sort out my thoughts.”

Prince Ghislain looked disappointed. “I would not trick you. My offer is sincere.”

“It’s fine,” Joseph said quickly. “It’s a lot to think about. Good night, Sir Roel.”

“Rest assured, I will speak of this to no one.” Roel bowed his head politely to the pair and left as quickly as he could.

The cold air hit him as soon as he exited the tent. He took several deep breaths, and he discovered that he was not just at a loss for breath but also for thoughts. He didn’t know what to think, and his right hand tightly gripped the hilt of his sword.

A sense of control, something that he had rarely felt in his life, was upon him. Assuming the prince could be trusted, he had been given a chance to run away from it all. He would be punished for failing his mission, but the punishment couldn’t be too severe; the council had more uses for him.

Often, he had thought about it, hadn’t he? Dying. But suicide was reviled as the most cowardly and sacrilegious act that a person could perform on himself. So, the thought was always pushed back, crammed into the darkest corner of his head. No, he had told himself, it was more honorable to just keep trudging along until he couldn’t.

But, honor, loyalty, duty – what did these words mean to him? Had they ever meant anything?

There was only one person he wanted to talk to at the moment, someone who wouldn't completely understand but would still offer thoughts and ideas, nonetheless. Normally, he wouldn't fold to that nauseatingly wistful feeling in his chest.

But it was a quiet night save for the chirping of crickets, and he couldn't help himself.