“And you just punched him?” The marquess was in awe. Kel had just finished telling him the story of the Tower as they rode on the front of what was more or less a large carriage. He had tried not to embellish, but it did come out making him sound a lot more heroic than it had been. There was a lot less scrambling and a good deal more monologuing in his version. “Gods, I can’t imagine actually physically striking someone who annoys me.”

“I would think you could do whatever you wanted, being a noble and all.”

The pale boy shook his head. “Father says otherwise. We’re supposed to be an example. So no fighting. Or swearing. Or anything, really. Just a lot of studying and staying in the castle. Oh, he lets me sit in on meetings and the like but it’s all so boring. I want to fight.”

Kel couldn’t imagine his new friend, a boy of such small frame and pixie-like complexion, being successful in a fight. Still, Kel himself wasn’t huge and he had held his own against Derry. Even if magic had been his main advantage.

Kel sighed contentedly as the wagon lazily pulled them along, swaying on the bumpy road to Five Points. It was a grand wagon, similar in size to Caaron’s open-aired card, but that was the only similarity between the two. Made of rich, dark wood and gilded with silver, with plush velvet seats for the driver and passengers, this was more of a large carriage than a simple farmhand’s cart.. The back of the wagon, where most of the camp equipment was tightly secured to the walls and floor, had extra sitting room as well. They rode sandwiched between two groups of mounted soldiers and followed by two other similar wagons.

He had actually slept the whole night. That was a first. Camp had been broken down quickly; they had eaten a breakfast of sausages and biscuits while the tent was packed around them. He had felt guilty not helping, at first, until the marquess pointed out that he was a guest and, if anything, his job was to keep him company. Slowly, tables and chairs and even the giant bed they had slept on were packed away while they ate and chatted. It had been remarkably fast, considering the sheer amount of finery that had adorned the room. Now, wedged comfortably between the marquess and the driver, Kel wondered that there had been such a large camp there to begin with.

“No the marquess continued, “I’ve never been in a fight. Clif here has told me about his battles, though. That’s the interesting stuff.” He looked over at his guard, trotting alongside the wagon on a large brown steed. “Clif, could you tell us a tale of your daring heroism?”

Clif grunted and rode off, toward the front of the line, ostensibly to scout ahead.

The noble gave a sigh. “He’s not so bad - he just likes pretending he doesn’t enjoy my company. But wouldn’t you know it - he volunteered for this. When he’s had half a flask of spirits, he tells me about the war with the Empire. Apparently, he was a ranger back then.”

“Really?”

“He rode with an elite unit. They would go into Imperial territory and perform all sorts of mischief.

"Everyone I ask about it tells me I’m too young. Everyone except Clif, that is.”

“No one really talks about it with me either.” Caaron had mentioned a few things, but it wasn’t a topic that was discussed openly among the villagers, that much was certain.

The marquess's eyes took on a now-familiar conspiratorial glint. “Well, from what I hear, the Empire wasn’t the Empire just yet. They were an island nation across the world, rich in resources and good at sailing. Their royal family had started marrying into royal families here, offering tons of gold, spices, the usual. So of course, it was only natural that our own royalty welcomed them. With renewed trade, our countries had five or ten years of economic prosperity - wealth like no one had ever seen. Spices, jewels, spells and books of power were being traded from exotic countries we had never dreamed about.”

Kel thought about the book he had summoned Poe from. Had it come from far beyond the sea?

“Then, monarchs suddenly started dying off,” the marquess said with a snap of his fingers. “Kings and queens snuffed out and replaced by their Imperial spouses and children. It was pretty obvious that it was a deliberate plan. A very calculated plan.” His eyes held a coolness that Kel hadn’t yet seen.

“The native royals who survived were the king of Zephirost and the queen of Sephiria. Oh, and the royal family of Hestia; the Hestian royals had avoided the Imperials for years, so they were fine.” He shrugged. “So the remaining royals gathered together and declared war.”

“The front lines were beyond the mountains in the North, in Orai. That’s where the Empire’s territory on this continent is now. So I guess that tells you how things went. In the end, Sepheria and Leviland ended up as Imperial vassal states.” Kel was well aware. The prominence of sun imagery, a staple of Imperial iconography, around official events in Fellows Glen showed that the Empire had indeed already made its mark. “Orai and Zephirost have a treaty with them, but they don’t pay tribute or anything. We’ve had peace for 15 years, longer than you or I have been alive. But my father has his people watching, constantly, to see if the Empire will make a move.”

“What about Hestia?”

The marquess sighed. “Hestia is technically still at war with the Empire. Though it must be the most boring war ever; neither side ever does anything. Probably because all of this,” he gestured to the fields they were currently riding past, “is between the two.”

“You really like history, don’t you?”

“My country is old and we like stories, even if they’re bitter ones.” It was a strange thing to hear from a kid his age. Kel wondered what his life was like. He had expected nobility to be spoiled and ignorant, but the more they spoke the more he felt like the marquess held problems of his own, beyond just the loss of his mother. Noting the melancholy mood that had crept into their conversation , he changed tack. “What’s Zephirost like, anyway?”

“You don’t get out much do you?” The marquess laughed.

“I’ve been around Sepheria a bit….when I was little.”

The pale boy thought for a moment. “Well, it’s a lot like here. Maybe a bit cooler. And we aren’t land-locked - there is a coast that runs along our entire eastern border.”

Kel had never actually seen the ocean, but he had been to lakes and ponds. He couldn’t imagine what salty water was like. “Do you ever swim there?”

“Occasionally. There are a few beaches that you can visit, but the waters are generally pretty treacherous. It’s the one reason we never faced invasion - spikey crags and corral on one end of the coast, sheer cliff faces on another.”

“Well then how does anyone trade there?” Caaron had taught Kel enough about the way the world worked that he knew that most trading was done with ships.

“That is a state secret.” The other boy grinned.

Looking at the horizon, Kel suddenly felt a thrill. In the distance, there rose five green prominent points, high above the other trees. They were still miles and miles away, but those trees must have been massive for their tops to be visible from this far away. These were the Five Points, after which the town he was headed was named. They must have been ancient to be that big. Ancient and something else, for he had never seen trees that tall. Something about them made him feel terribly excited, but also a little sad. So much time, so many lives, had gone by while those trees grew and flourished.

“Your grace?”

“Please, call me Petyr.”

“Petyr…” Kel felt weird saying it. “Thanks again. For having me as a guest. And letting me ride with you. I can’t tell you just how much you helped me.”

“It’s no trouble,” the marquess shrugged. “And I was being selfish anyway. I’m bored - you can probably tell Clif isn’t exactly great company. I haven’t had a real friend in ages and...well, as soon as I saw you I knew we’d be friends. “

“Yeah...I kinda felt the same way.” Kel was grinning from ear to ear. He knew exactly how Petyr felt, for better or worse.

For a while they sat in silence, enjoying the cool breeze and the sun on their faces. It was a comfortably warm day and after the terrible trails he had been through recently, it was a nice change of pace.The feeling didn’t last long, however. As they crested the next hill, plumes of dust trailed behind something tracing a line for their caravan. It was a company of five riders, racing toward them across the open plain. Kel was uneasy; something about them was off. Despite looking like soldiers, they flew no banners. He didn’t like the urgency of their pace either. From this distance, it was hard to tell any distinguishing features of the riders. Though they weren’t chasing the caravan from behind, Kel had the feeling that he didn’t want to be found by the strangers fast approaching their wagon.

Peytr noticed the look on the other boy’s face and called the caravan to a halt. “Get inside - now.” Kel, who didn’t need to be told twice, scrambled into the back of the wagon, out of view.

Within a minute, the dark riders pulled up to the caravan, hooves treading the cotton and pea plants in the field beside the road as they fanned out to face the marquess’s wagon. They wore disparate uniforms - leather jerkins and cloaks of varying, dark colors - but every one of them exuded an aura of danger. Clif made a sign for them to stop, which they seemed to comply with reluctantly. One rider approached while the others remained in the field, watching the royal entourage warily.

“Good day to you, sirs,” the man said, eying the banners that clearly bore the large raptor of Zephirost. His long, stringy hair clung, matted, to his cloak. It looked like he had been riding through the night.

“Gibb’s blessings upon ye,” he tried tentatively. His eyes darted from Clif to Petyr and back. As his eyes rested on Clif, some semblance of recognition passed between them, as if they had met before.

Clif maintained his poise, though it seemed he did so with some effort. “Speak,” he commanded, as if to his own troops.

“We mean ye no harm,” the rider said, “Only to ask if you’ve seen a boy. Name of Kel. A lad of 13. Shaggy brown hair.” Pressed against the floor, Kel listened intently to every word. It was hot and stuffy in the back and he tried to breathe as little as he could. Despite being such a fine vehicle, there was dust everywhere from being on the road and he was terrified that at any moment he could sneeze.

Clif began to respond but was silenced with a gesture from the marquess. “I will answer him,” Petyr said. He addressed the rider. “ We have seen no boy along this way. I’ll tell you this, however: last night we heard wolves howling from our encampment. There were quite a few of them from the sound of it and they sounded very excited about something. It is likely that your quarry has already been eaten.” He gave the man a mirthless smile.

The rider nodded, his horse shifting uneasily. He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. He stared intently past Petyr and into the wagon. After a moment, he said, “Then I thank you, sirs. We’ll be on our way.” He and his ragged companions began to trot past the caravan. Kel felt himself breathe a sigh of relief once they passed, only to feel panic seize him as he heard hoofbeats return back to the front of the wagon a moment later.

The rider reappeared at the front of the wagon, much to Petyr’s clear annoyance. “Begging your pardon but we’re heading toward Ferryton. Would you please do us a favor, liege, and send a rider if you do come across him.” The man craned his head, attempting to peer as far back into the wagon as possible.

“I will see to it that we do.” Petyr smiled, showing no teeth. He stood, blocking the man’s view, and gave a wave that was customary enough among travelers but clearly meant for the rider and his cohort to be on their way.

The rider gave a respectful nod despite the clear disdain and frustration in his eyes, his gaze lingering overly long on Clif, before continuing on around the caravan and taking off down the road in the opposite direction. The other riders followed suit.

The marquess turned his own attention to the road and ordered the caravan to move. Grinding back to a steady pace, they rode on for another five minutes after the riders had completely disappeared over the hill behind them before coming to rest by a lonely oak tree. “We’ll break here!” Petyr called, his voice uncharacteristically gruff. Clif promptly dismounted and the marquess followed him to stand under the tree, its green leaves swaying in the wind. The rest of the soldiers gave each other uneasy glances. Despite the distance, Kel soon heard their raised voices carried on the breeze.

“Those were Briarband scouts. The highest caliber mercenaries you can get this side of the Sepherian Capital.”

“Are they, now?” Petyr arched a brow, but he didn’t seem in the least bit worried.

Your grace, we don’t know what this boy has done to have a bounty on him. If he is wanted, by law, we are obligated to turn him over. It is a diplomatic crime to hide him.”

“His name is Kel, Clif. And you may be right, but there is no way he has done anything to truly deserve a bounty on his head. I’m a good judge of character.”

“Sure you are,” Clif quipped.

Kel peered out of the wagon. One of the soldiers in the group ahead coughed loudly. Suddenly aware that their conversation was being overheard, the young noble and the ex-ranger continued their conversation at a whisper. When they stomped back to the wagon, it was Clif who addressed Kel, his arms crossed as they had been when he first interrogated the boy. “Step out.”

Reluctantly, Kel climbed over the seat and jumped down. This was it. They were going to send a messenger back and this would all be for nothing.

“Now then, I want to know why they’re looking for you.” That was a better chance than he could have asked for, but Kel figured they wouldn’t have asked if they were just going to give him up right away.

So he told them the whole story. He explained about the debt, Caaron, the trial; everything. When he was finished, Petyr just sighed. “So that’s it then. I must say, I wouldn’t go that far over a missing servant.”

Kel bowed his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

Petyr gave him a long look, then waved his apology away. “Don’t be silly. Only a dullard would tell a perfect stranger, especially one with an armed guard, the exact details of how and why he is on the run from local mercenaries.” To be fair, Kel hadn’t known there would be anyone else chasing him. He had taken Johan’s words to heart and had imagined that from the Crossroads on he would be safe. Still, he was happy that the marquess wasn’t angry with him, so he kept these thoughts to himself.

“But,” Petyr’s face became serious, “If you’re hiding from the law, you’re going to make some adjustments. Starting with that hair. ”

“Wait, what!?” Despite its shagginess, Kel quite liked his hair.

It didn’t take long at all. The marquess actually had quite the talent for cutting and snipping, working nimbly with a pair of scissors and a comb until Kel’s was a respectable shape and length. The young noble made the process seem effortless, even if the results weren’t completely perfect.

“There,” Petyr smiled, holding up a mirror. “Short on the sides, trimmed on the top - this will look just perfect if we get you…” he looked around. “Ahah!” He leapt into the wagon. The sounds of rummaging through chests and shelves could be heard until, a moment later, he emerged with a very new set of green and tan traveller’s clothes. They weren’t fancy by any means, but they were nicer than anything Kel had ever owned. “Try these on - you’ll look positively cosmopolitan!”

And he did. Kel couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“This way,” Petyr remarked, you look just respectable enough to go as you please, but not so rich as to attract attention.” Kel recalled that Petyr had been wearing something very similar the night before. “One has to learn these things to get around, especially nobility.”

“So you do this kind of thing often.”

“And worse,” Petyr groaned. “I would recommend you keep your old clothes too. If you ever need to hide in plain sight, rip them up a bit, rub dirt on them, that sort of thing. Make yourself look destitute and insane. Smear your face with mud and find a pile of horse shit to roll in. Then, act as mad as you can when people come near you. They’ll avoid you like the plague.”

“How do you know all this?” Kel couldn’t imagine a rich child of royal lineage needing to employ methods so extreme just to avoid being bothered while traveling. Was he pulling Kel’s leg?

“Father insisted that Clif instruct me in things like that. He wanted to avoid the mistakes other men have made - raising entitled children unprepared for misfortune when it inevitably comes,” he boy shrugged. “that’s what he said, at least. I think he may have just wanted to keep me out of his hair.” He laughed. Kel wondered what their relationship was like. He hadn’t had the experience of having a father, but Caaron had been there for him. He had never felt like he was being pushed away.

The road gradually became sandier as they rode on through the day. The wheels of the wagon began to sink and slide as they went and had to be dug out and helped along quite a few times as the sun crossed the sky. Oaks and Ash trees gave way to tall pines that rocked and swayed in the breeze against the blue sky. Mourning doves called from the forest floor while hawks screeched from high above. Five Pines was close.

“So this Maximilian. Where does he live?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Petyr was incredulous.

“No. I had to leave so quickly that all I got was a note.”

“Well then, do you have any idea how to find him?” He seemed uncharacteristically exasperated, which was a little strange. Kel was glad they were friends now, but he wasn’t sure why the marquess was so invested in his goal.

“I have no clue. I suppose i’ll ask around, get some work in the meantime.”

“And you're sure Five Points is the stop for you?”

“I’m sure.” He couldn’t put a finger on why, but as soon as he had seen the tops of the five trees, stretching high above the other forests below, he had felt something beyond hope. It was a feeling that told him that this was exactly where he needed to be.

Petyr sighed. “I just wish we could enjoy each other’s company for another night, at least. My entourage can’t stay in Five Pines because it simply doesn’t have an inn large enough for our company. We’ll make camp further north, where the eastern road meets the high road to the capital. I’m supposed to dine with your prime minister in two days, so we can’t really delay.” He seemed truly aggrieved that they would have to move on.

The Prime minister, Kel thought to himself. Even being a duke’s son, would a boy really be able to hold an audience with someone so powerful? Kel was beginning to think he wasn’t the only one who had held back specific facts about himself. It was no use calling Petyr on this though - all it would do would be to mar the time they had spent together so far and possibly alienate his new friend. Plus, they had protected him without even really knowing anything about him. That counted for a lot.

Oblivious to Kel’s reverie, Petyr suddenly sat up. “I had a thought - why don’t you travel with me?”

“What?”

“You can serve as my valet. No one will question it. And we can ask around about Maximilion Magnus.”

Kel had to admit that it sounded like a great idea. It would be so easy. He imagined having this companionship every night for the foreseeable future - nights laughing and eating delicious food, days spent wandering down the open road and meeting important people. Then he remembered the conversation he had overheard. He couldn’t do that to the marquess - who knew what would happen if he was caught harboring a wanted criminal like himself. It could cause something bigger than just his own problems, it would be an issue between whole countries.

“No,” he heard himself say even though part of him wanted to scream ‘yes,’ “I wouldn’t want to endanger you and your people. My presence caused you enough problems already.

Petyr smiled sadly. “Disappointing, of course, but I understand.”

As if by design, a crossroads shaded by rows and rows of pine trees rolled into view. A wooden sign pointed to the right, deeper into the evergreen woods. Five Pines, it read.

“Well this is it. I suppose you don’t want an escort. That may be a bit conspicuous for a vagrant on the run.”

Kel laughed. “Probably. I’ll be fine on my own. Thank you for your hospitality, your grace.”

“As I said, call me Petyr. I hope we get to see each other soon.”

Kel gathered his satchel and prepared to hop down from the wagon.

“Oh, before you go,” the marquess stopped him suddenly. He fumbled with something on the back of his neck and presented it to Kel. “Here: a parting gift.” It was a silver amulet, small but obviously very valuable, dangling from a delicate silver necklace. There was an image of a bird, the Zephirian crest, and line of script that looped around it.

“Oh no, I can’t.” It was seriously too much. Kel couldn’t imagine having something so clearly expensive.

“Please. In you I’ve made a fast friend. Plus, I’m being selfish again. It’s magical.You just speak the words on the inscription and it will allow us to talk, no matter the distance. See, I’ve got another one.” He lifted a thin silver chain that hung around his own neck.

“It only works a few times, so be careful to only use it when absolutely necessary. In fact, when you finally find your patron, you should absolutely speak with me that night. It will make me smile to know you’ve found what you were looking for.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Wait until you’re alone, of course. We don’t want him seeing you talking to yourself and thinking you are mad.” He chuckled.

“Okay then.” Kel quickly fastened it around his neck and hid it under his shirt. It was warm against his skin from where the marquess had been wearing it. He was happy to know that he would be able to speak with his friend again whenever he wanted. “Thank you, again. For everything."

The marquess gave a dignified nod.“Goodbye then, Kel. Until we meet again.”

“Goodbye, your grace..er...Petyr.”

The company continued on and Kel watched them until they faded into the distance: horses, banners, and all. He wondered if he could trust his feelings. If he was being honest with himself, logically, he should have continued on with them. But that feeling in his gut said to get off here. Nothing for it. He began to walk down the wooded path, to which the wooden sign marked “Five Pines” pointed.

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Clif cantered up to the front of the wagon and slowed to a trot. “What was that that you gave him? An heirloom? I’ve never seen those pendants before.”

The marquess scoffed, tossing his hair. “It needn’t concern you.”

“Your grace, it more than concerns me when the crown prince of Zephirost picks up riffraff while on a diplomatic mission.”

“Well, see to it that you refer to me as the Marquess of Truant and then the problem will solve itself. That alias was your suggestion, was it not?”

The veteran guard grumbled.

“What was that?”

“I said, why did you ask him to stay on with us? Surely you aren’t mad enough to take in strays to serve as your valet.”

“I offered it as an option because I knew he would say no. And because I knew it would piss you off.” The boy grinned.

Clif scowled. “You succeed at that without even trying,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “Your grace.”

The boy sighed and stretched his legs. “Kel is going to help me get what I want, Clif. I can tell. And what was the cost? A warm bed, a hot meal, and the profession of friendship to someone who clearly has few friends. I’d say I netted quite a bargain just now.”

“If you say so. To me, it looks like you just picked up an urchin, fed him and gave him a ride, then then offered him a job ten times above his station in life.”

Petyr’s eyes narrowed. “Then you weren’t paying attention to what was standing in front of you just now. Now, be a good ranger and fetch my dinner. Perhaps a nice rabbit? Or a turkey, if it’s not too much trouble.” That constant smirk played on his lips again and, unlike Kel, it annoyed Clifford von Strauss, honorguard to the court of King Zephyrus, to no end.