Rassa was Hungry. Again. Why was this the case? Because it seemed his captors hadn't been briefed on the consequences of NOT feeding him. It'd been nearly a week since they'd left Toulle, and the entire time Rassa had been in the prison carriage with the anthrite mask chained over his face. As a consequence, he couldn't even complain about his treatment. The only thing he could do was stare out at his captors as they ate their own meals. One had offered him water at one point. As if that was going to make any difference. Rassa had looked back at him as if he was stupid. He wanted to scream at them, 'I need blood, idiots! Blood! Just feed me the blood of the game you catch for dinner, it would make skinning them a lot less messy!'. Though, that just got him thinking about whether or not the paralytic in his venom would affected them if they ate the meat of the game…considering they weren't giving him anything though, it didn't look like he'd have a chance to find out.

It sucked, no pun intended.

So, as he was having no luck catching their attention to feed him, Rassa instead spent his time observing them. At first, he did it because he wanted to know who had taken him this time, if only to get a clue of where he was going. The only problem with that was that Rassa was not well-learned in any of the Empire's orders, sects or personal guards. He knew they existed, and that some were more skilled than others, but that was about it. He'd never actually observed any of them apart from the Knights from Varkevia, and they served the interests of the Empire, not any individual. These three men though, they weren't knights.

Their dark attire was thin apart from their thick cloaks which they used as blankets during the night. They also had hood similar to what Rassa had once worn, and cloth masks that covered their mouths and noses. It was clear that they had no intention of being identified. Still, that didn't mean that Rassa couldn't ascertain any information from them.

The leader was clearly the oldest as Rassa could see the signs of aging around his eyes, he looked only a little older than Phillip. He was also abnormally cold and silent. He barely spared Rassa a glance apart from to ensure that he was still alive and captured. The two remaining captors were younger, one significantly younger, only around Rassa's own age by the look of him. The one who wasn't quite as young was also rather cold and indifferent, though he was often the one driving the carriage, so Rassa came into contact with him more often. He was also the one that had offered Rassa water. When Rassa had refused, the man never offered it again.

The youngest was perhaps the one that stood out the most amongst the group. He was dressed almost the same, apart from the pin for his coat which held no symbol like the others did. Even then, the others had only a ring within a ring as their symbol, one that Rassa was not familiar with. What intrigued Rassa the most about the youngest one though, was that try as he might to act the same as his superiors, it was clear the boy was apprehensive about what they were doing. That he wanted to question why. And yet, he never opened his mouth.

Instead, Rassa felt the boy's violent gaze staring across the small camps at night, curious yet cautious. As soon as the oldest caught him though, the boy would turn cold and distant, mirroring the expressions of his seniors. It took Rassa a while to pinpoint what the reason could be. After all, despite only seeing their eyes, he could see the familial resemblance between the oldest and the youngest. It was clear the boy had no intention of betrayal, and yet the look was still there. In the end, Rassa could only settle on one conclusion. It must be his first time doing this.

It was on the sixth night after his capture, when the boy was on the night watch, that Rassa finally got the chance to do something about his predicament. Though, it was not anything that Rassa made an effort to do.

The boy had seated himself on top of the carriage for the night watch. They'd been taking backroads and sleeping outside on the ground to avoid any unnecessary interactions and what came with them, questions. Rassa knew that even if they took the main roads, which would be stupid, that he would've been stuck in the carriage anyway, so he hardly complained. All he knew for sure was that their progress was slower compared to what it would have been had they been on the main roads. They were also heading south-east, towards the Seisin Mountain Range, it had come into view on the horizon the previous day as they crest a hill, though Rassa doubted the others had seen it, they were still a fair way away.

As Rassa tried to relax, staring up at the night sky, his hearing, which wasn't as dimmed as his other senses, picked up the incessant and repetitive tapping of metal on metal. Rassa's calm gaze gradually turned into that of a frown, and he looked up at the roof of the carriage, pinpointing the exact location of the noise. Rassa raised his hand and tapped on the roof of the carriage twice. Not hard enough to wake the others, but hard enough that it made the boy jump in surprise. He hid it well, and was silent for a few moments before he shifted and hung from the top of the carriage, peering through the bars at Rassa.

"What?" the boy frowned at Rassa, an impatient and cautious gaze staring him down.

Rassa stared back unimpressed, then placed a finger to his mask in a bid for silence.

The boy smirked, scoffed in amusement, and then flipped back on top of the cage. It was silent for a moment, then the tapping began again.

Rassa's eyes narrowed. So he wanted to play it that way did he? The tapping continued and Rassa adjusted his movement accordingly, careful not to rattle the chains more than necessary. When he was in position, Rassa judged the distance before tapping once more on the roof of the carriage, though louder this time. There was another pause, and then the boy dropped his head down again to look through the bars.

"Seriously, wha-"

He was cut off as Rassa's fist hit him square in the nose. The distinct crunch of bone breaking and the rattle of chains cut through the otherwise silent camp before the boy lost his balance recoiling from the punch. His violet eyes met Rassa's dark one for a split second, and Rassa saw the honest shock and fear in them before the boy plummeted to the ground, barely managing to shift his body in time so that he didn't land on his head.

"Oof!" The boy sat up slowly, his hand going straight to his mask to drag it down and inspect his broken nose. His eyes watered, but Rassa was impressed that the boy didn't cry out as he cringed at the pain. He turned slightly to glare at Rassa through the bars, blood trickling from his nose.

"What the hell was that for?" hissed the boy, giving a quick glance over to the camp where his two companions were resting.

Rassa sat himself down comfortably once more, then brought a finger before his mask once more to ask for silence. He couldn't help the small smirk that adorned his face under the mask. He was very satisfied after that punch.

The boy's eyes narrowed.

"I hardly think that's your most present concern, aren't you hungry?"

The boy's voice cracked slightly from the pain, but Rassa barely noticed, it was like that key word – hungry – had triggered that very thing within him. Rassa's gaze zeroed in on the blood that leaked from the boy's nose.

After a moment, the boy shifted every so slightly under Rassa's heavy gaze.

"I'm not offering me, I can get you some dried meat though. I know you haven't eaten in-"

Rassa forcefully turned away in disgust. Dried meat? That disgusting husk? It felt like an insult to be offered such a thing.

"You're not going to get anything with that attitude," the boy grumbled.

It was silent for a moment, then the boy stood for a moment, standing straight as he touched his nose, took a deep breath, then clicked the bone back into place. He sucked in another breath of air at the pain, then glanced at Rassa once more.

"I'll give it to you, you know how to throw a punch," the boy sighed, "Do you want food or not?"

Rassa glanced over his shoulder at the boy, then subconsciously touching his throat as he felt the burn of hunger. This was probably the only chance he'd get to try and explain himself.

Rassa tapped his mask lightly.

"I'll take it off when you eat, obviously," the boy replied, then he turned and walked over to the packs to retrieve the dried meat.

He returned, and indicated for Rassa to turn around. Rassa frowned cautiously, but did as asked. The lock at the back of his head was unlocked, and the mask loosened before dropping into Rassa's lap. Rassa took a deep breath as he felt his irritated skin slowly begin to heal, then he turned to back to face the boy.

Only to get a fist in the nose.

Rassa fell back, holding his face as he stared out at the boy in surprise. The boy's violet eyes had no malicious intent, no cruelty in them. Just pure satisfaction at getting Rassa back for what he did.

In that moment, seeing the boy's intentions, Rassa decided he wasn't so bad. He held his nose and adjusted it back into place, feeling it heal as he couldn't hold back his grin.

The boy began to return it, only to see Rassa's nose visibly healing.

"That's not fair," the boy grumbled.

Rassa shrugged, "I wouldn't say that being stuck in this carriage is fair, yet here I am".

The boy rolled his eyes, then held out the dried meat, "Here, eat. I'll have to put the mask back on afterwards to be quick about it".

Rassa looked at the dried meat, then at the boy.

"What?"

"I can't eat that".

"I didn't poison it," the boy stated.

"No I...it won't alleviate the hunger," Rassa tried explaining.

"What do you want then? A three-course meal? This is hardly the time or place to be asking for-"

"Blood. Fresh from the source. Any source," Rassa said flatly.

The boy paused, looking at Rassa for a moment, "You're serious?"

Rassa nodded, "You have no idea why you're taking me wherever you're taking me, do you?"

The boy shrugged, "It's not my job to know".

Rassa sighed in frustration, "Well maybe you should make it your job, because the last group of people who didn't feed me were slaughtered, and there were nearly 50 of them".

The boy frowned, "Is that a threat?"

"Do you need it to be? Because I assure you, I'm quite happy to leave it as a warning".

Rassa wasn't exactly sure what the boy saw in him at that moment. Whether it was his fear of repeating the massacre, his hunger, his frustration, his sadness, his desperation. But when asked many years later, the boy would only reply with one sentence, the same one he said that day.

"If I get caught, I'm going to kill you".

With the look in those violet eyes, Rassa didn't doubt it. He never would.