Florian held what remained of his mace, the length of the weapon bent like an ‘S’ and what few spikes that remained at the head of the weapon were bent all the way back into the metal. There would be no fixing it, unfortunately. He sighed. Everything hurt. His legs hurt, his arms hurt, and his heart hurt for Bludgeon – the mace had long earned itself a name.

Leeds Castle stood proudly in front of them, the daylight revealing the scars the mostly restored fortification had earned in the past three years of near constant fighting. A few figures roamed the walls and some unknown banner was raised high above the ramparts. It certainly wasn’t the Union Jack or the UN flag, that was for sure. It perturbed Florian, but Theo was not at all impacted. Instead, the sight of other people drove Theo faster.

Trying his best to keep up – which proved a fruitless endeavor – Florian watched as the soldiers raised some horn to their mouths, trumpeting some kind of signal or alarm. “We come in peace!” Theo called, totally not sounding like some alien-come-to-abduct-your-leader. Joe smirked beside him, clearly coming to the same conclusion.

“What business do you have in Leeds? You don’t look like you’re from around here!” one of the guards called. Now that Florian was closer, he could see the fine armor they wore, closer to the plate armor of the knights of old than the metal sheets that Dover’s warriors wore over their most critical body parts.

“I come to teach magic!”

Florian looked at his companion, mouth open in disbelief. Theo hadn’t shared the reason for this hare-brained plan, but this was one that Florian hadn’t even considered. The man seemed to hate spending time trying to get either Florian or Joe to understand how magic functioned. It was just as well that it was straightforward enough that a teacher wasn’t all that necessary after a certain point. Florian didn’t envy whatever ‘students’ Theo wanted under him.

The guards looked at each other for a second in utter silence. Roaring laughter boomed all the way to them even as they stood about a hundred yards away.

“Magic?” came the response once the two soldiers composed themselves.

Theo didn’t dignify their mirth with a verbal response, his mouth turning downwards into a slight frown. Instead, he just summoned a small fireball and sent it at the nearest tree, blasting the poor thing apart into thousands of little splinters. The guards, poor things, looked on with utter disbelief. Only then did Theo speak again. “Magic!”

Now the guards trumpeted again, this time a quick staccato of three different notes. Immediately, Leeds Castle came alive. The tall gate, which had been closed, came nearly crashing to the ground as they hastened to open it. Crowds of people behind the walls spoke, their words unintelligible from their distance but their interest quite obvious.

Five minutes later, a single man strode out from the castle, followed quickly by twenty others. All of them – except for the first man – were dressed in elegant, uniform armor. It was like a small legion rather than a group of survivors. If Taylor had been there, he might’ve fainted from the shock of seeing such a professional bunch in this day and age.

“I’m Wilfred, the lord of Leeds Castle. My men have informed me that you can perform magic,” the last word he spat in annoyance, “and that you want to teach the people of Leeds to do the same. Tell me, magician, what is it that you do?”

Theo snapped an arm out and repeated his demonstration with the fireball, this time with extra oomph. Florian was surprised that the heat didn’t singe Wilfred’s perfectly coifed moustache. Wilfred looked at Theo now, any shred of frustration vanishing behind a neutral visage.

“I apologize. I was under the assumption that you were some kind of entertainer, but that is clearly not the case. And you say you want to teach my people to do what you just did?” Wilfred asked, the wind causing a cape that Florian hadn’t even noticed to billow out behind the rugged-looking man.

“I do. All I ask is for a place to rest and food to eat.”

Wilfred smiled at that. “I believe we can come to an agreement, now that spring is coming. Is that your retinue behind you?”

“They are. The oldest two among them can use magic as well, though they are complete novices. Still, they should prove helpful to whatever task you see fit to have them do.”

This time, Florian had expected something like this from Theo. Though his motivations were unclear, Theo had made no secret of his growing frustration with Florian and the children. It was almost as if they were holding Theo back from something.

“Amazing…” Wilfred slowly walked over to Florian. “Can you do what that man just did?”

Florian mimicked Theo’s fireball, even if its creation sent a spike of pain through his mind. “That I can, Mr. Wilfred.”

“And the young man?”

“He can’t.”

Wilfred stroked his moustache as he paced back and forth, glancing at Theo and Florian’s peg leg occasionally. “Alright. We’ll let the five of you in on the condition that Mr…”

“Theodosius,” Theo supplied.

“Ah, yes. On the condition that Mr. Theodosius teach my men and that Mr...”

“It’s Florian.”

“That Mr. Florian serve as one of Leeds' warriors.”

Theo thought about it, running a hand through his long, blonde hair. “You have a deal, Wilfred. Can you guide me to my quarters?”

Wilfred led Theo ahead, leaving the task of guiding the rest of them in through the gate to a group of warriors. The actual gate was a heavy wooden thing, and walking through the opening it left carried a certain sense of confinement. Now that Florian thought about it, he hadn’t felt something like this since he’d been unofficially exiled from Dover, this sense of being a bird in a cage.

Hushed murmurs accompanied them as they followed the path left behind by Wilfred and Theo. The crowds surrounding them seemed to be in worse shape than those in Dover, their emaciated faces telling stories about the lack of food. There were more than a few glares levied at them. Their clothes, unlike the warriors’ were threadbare and looked to barely serve any function at all. Florian examined Leeds as he walked, and he didn’t know exactly what to make of the settlement or of its leader. He supposed he’d find out.

The warriors guiding them diverged from Wilfred’s path at some point, taking Florian to a barracks while Joe, Jake, and Ellie were taken a different direction. Jake had nearly fought with the armored men, demanding to stay with Florian. The little seven year-old’s hands were clenched in fists as Florian assured him that everything would be okay.

But entering the barracks, Florian wasn’t so sure. There was not a single friendly face in the building, and most of the men looked like they’d be willing to kill him on the spot. Florian found an open bed and, in an act of defiance and exhaustion in the face of a proper bed, fell asleep with a pillow beneath his head for the first time in months.