When he was a child, Robin loved to play pretend. He would act out scenes with knights and dragons with his brother and friends, would rescue the princess from evil kings.

It was when he was a little older that he begged the knights to teach him.  All Robin wanted was to fight. It made him proud. Strong. Just by watching the guards spar and practice, he picked up in some of their moves and used them against his brother.

Ed never appreciated being bested, let alone it being at swordplay.

So, with the promise they would both learn, Edwin and Robin started lessons from the captain, Andragoras. A man as large as his name, Andragoras held the knights and guards in his firm grip, commanded them with authority and treated them with respect. That respect, as Robin soon learned, would always be shown back to the captain in return.

Years passed, and Robin got good. Fast. No longer was he a child, but a young man who could disarm opponents in the blink of an eye. He no longer played pretend, but went up against Edwin. Even his friend who'd been drafted into playing the dragon, Thomas, got involved. Thomas learned his fighting from his own kingdom, and straight from the king.

Still, the only one Robin couldn't beat was Andragoras.

He loved to fight until he had to.

Then, one day, he was sent with the guard. The king decided that if the eldest child of the queen liked to deal with swords, he could do it in a way that bettered the country.

Robin never quite understood Andragoras and his mother's protesting until it was too late.

The world turned from a beautiful place with the brightest skies to a world where darkness crept around every corner, where it waited to eat the dying like the crows, peck at the decaying flesh of humanity and wish for something stronger.

Which was why he no longer fought battles with swords, but with words.

That didn't stop the accompanying guard though. Even the most peaceful of missions could end with a burning of innocence.

It was that same type of innocence that caught up with him. It hid underneath the fresh snow and danced around the air, whispered in his ears with a voice that only spoke of storms. The six were to come back to the king with a messenger from Kallas. He had directions, notes, letters, all marked to the crown prince and his brother.

The guard reached the delivery point earlier than expected, with four entering before the other two. The town was small, with lanterns that struggled to keep a flame in the wind beside every business and house. The metal every man wore weighted down against their bodies and held to every gasp of cold in the world, must to their dismay. Upon finding no one at the hotel, Andragoras dismissed the rest of the guard to find somewhere warm to wait.

Robin waited with the captain. While the four remaining were kind enough, he heard their conversations when they believed him absent. There were only enough times one could hear "queen's bastard" in a day without wishing to run a man through.

Andragoras brought his horse near the prince and paused. "You needn't wait with me, your highness. The inn is more that welcome if you wish to be in there."

Robin clenched his hands around the set of reins. His fingers were already numbing from the cold, and feeling his face was another monster entirely. 

He shrugged. "It'd be easier to keep a watch for our man out here than in there. Besides, I've heard enough complaining today to last me an entire week."

"Gods." Andragoras shook his head. He held no attempt at trying to hide the disgust from his face. "One would think we've traveled countries with the way they sound. The king promised those held experience before sending them with us, but I believe I must disagree."

"Perhaps a different type of experience?" Robin took a glance through the inn's windows. The four guards all sat at a table, drinking from mugs provided. Their armor lay at the feet of each man, along with weapons all but their sword. If anything were to happen, they'd be the last to know.

The look he received from Andragoras was enough to tell him to drop the subject.

Robin sighed. Wind blew harder, made the falling snow whip around like lashes to his face. A few of the lanterns near the houses flickered and went out, life snuffed from them as the storm grew worse. He ran a hand against the side of his horse and watched as Andragoras paced up and down the street.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a red flicker near a house. A window shutter slammed not long after that, but the for the briefest moment, the window held the face of a frowning woman. She met eyes with Robin and mouthed a word before closing herself up in the warmth.

Now that he thought about it, nearly everyone on the street had shut their windows and doors. The few who wandered in the snow when they got to town cleared the streets not long after the four guards left their horses in the stable and went inside the inn. No one looked in their directions on the street except for small glare from those closing their homes tight.

Something didn't sit right in Robin's gut. Something off. The Kallan man yet to show, the strange silence of the town, and the ever-darkening sky called in warnings he couldn't quite understand.

"Andragoras?"

The captain heard the shout and came closer, away from the sign that signaled the entrance to town. That was where the Kallan was to meet them, yet only air occupied. When he came within speaking distance he did not answer, but tilted helmeted head to the side.

"Do you know if the guard has ever visited this place before?" He took another glimpse into the inn. The four new guards still laughed around the fire. The innkeeper, previously at his desk, was no where in sight. "They seem less receptive than usual."

The captain seemed unconcerned. "Different places handle guards differently. You remember what happened in Krativ."

Krativ. Where peace turned to swords and swords turned to blood of their own.

But that was always hostile. Entering that place sent chills crawling up Robin's back, made his bones grow cold with dread though the sun shone hot that day.

This place was different, yes. This town he didn't even know the name of was cold without the snow, not flashing with the heat of battle. It the metal tighter, clench harder, not yearn to deflect swings.

It was hiding in the tower, in the dark,  away from the screams and the names.

Fear.

Of what? Them? Him? The weapons or the name? Or the storm that loomed, waiting for the night?

He let his questions dissolve into nothing and began to circle around to a street behind them. That one held no light at each door, but people who hovered near their homes. A few spoke to each other in small voices, a few others just watched, followed Robin as he ride down the center of the street. Those who caught sight of him gave mixed reactions-- some nothing, others anger, or slight fear. All eventually made their way closer to the safety of their house.

The unease inside Robin grew with each moment. Desperately, he wanted to figure out the problem. If it hadn't been so cold outside, he would have shed his armor and risked being caught by Andragoras, just to see if it was the kingdom's symbol that sent the people inside.

Skies, he was overthinking it. It was called a storm.

The Kallans were never late.

That's a the other thing. The longer he dwelled on the lack of people, the more he remembered how Thomas and Elspeth both stressed that every Kallan man and woman had time drilled into them. He'd lost track of time with his sword one day, and they arrived in his absence from the castle. Elspeth was the one to find him outside, sword drawn and hammering against a wooden dummy.

There was enough rage in her body he thought she would have killed him. She never let him forget, after that day. They were never late. The mere act of lateness was a sign of disrespect.

What went wrong.

Robin went up to one of the slower moving women. As he neared, her movements quickened, her eyes grew to large circles.

"Ma'am?"

She was frantic, jumping closer to her house.

Robin itched to get off his horse, but a sudden remembrance of Krativ stopped him. He stayed seated, only gripping the reins tighter.

"Ma'am, I promise I'll not hurt you, I just have a question."

He didn't quite know what it was. Maybe his voice, maybe her not wishing to make a guard angry. Either way, the woman paused, hand on her door. She stayed half in, half out, but let her gaze drift up to Robin's eyes.

Her hands gripped at the dress she wore, bundled it into clenched balls. "We don't have any rooms, sir."

Rooms? "No, no, that's not what I was asking." He waved a hand absentmindedly, let himself give the woman a reassuring smile. "I just was wondering-- we were supposed to meet a messenger from Kallas here, and it seems we've missed him. Do you happen to know if anyone has seen him?"

He soaked in the woman's reactions. Her face remained still, fashioned into a stone sculpture, but her breaths quickened.

She lowered her head to a bow. "We were told not to say, sir," she whispered. Her voice wavered with every word. "Fire will be upon us if I tell you."

Robin's heart quickened.  "Someone threatened you?"

She gave a tiny shake of her head and started to close to door. Robin reached for it, though he knew there was no way to stop her if she did.

"Please!"

She paused.

Robin let his words come out as his mother had taught him. Calm. Gentle. "Please, if someone has threatened you, I can stop them. I swear, under the king and queen themselves, no harm will come to you."

The woman's face crinkled, mouth opened and shut. Her skin grew pink, but not from the biting cold.

A howl of wind droned through the street, carrying with it a whisper of death.

Robin lowered his voice more, to where he was sure she could barely hear him. "I just need to know a general direction the Kallan is."

Her words came out in a rush, barely a whisper as snow flew by. "In the alleyways."

Then her door was shut.

The alleyways. Robin turned his head to look behind him. No one walked on the street but him and the shadows. He led his horse away from the woman's house, let his mind race with thoughts. The Kallan in alleyways. He hid there. That had to be why. But who would dare threaten a man granted sanctuary by two kingdoms?

The pit in Robin's gut grew deeper each time he passed a dark street. He didn't dare check farther back, but let the dusk light and street lamps flicker down. His grip on his sword tightened, his mind attuned to any stray sound made.

Until, one more street farther from the captain, the lamps blazed a fire on discolored snow. Droplets of red lines the ground, mostly covered by fresh white until they went between two houses. The shadows played in the corners and danced over trash, but no matter how dark the world got, it couldn't hide a misplaced lump in the corner.

Nausea threatened to sweep over the prince, yet he forced himself to get closer. His horse refused to head down the narrow pathway, and he was stuck to his seat, unable and unwilling to move.

Maybe it was just a blanket. An animal, even. Trash no one desired.

Robin grabbed a lantern from one of the houses and swung it down the alley.

The dim light turned to the sun. It caught the blood splattered over the snow, the slices against the man's face and holes through his body. It flew deep into the mouth that hung open like a cavern, the liquid staining white skin and blackness where the tongue should be. It bounced off the glassy eyes, wide open and staring into an abyss.

A dark blue bag, the one the Kallans carried, lay next to the man.

Robin shut his eyes, have a silent prayed for the messenger, all while trying to steady his breathing.

Murdered.

Body fighting numbness he backed away, let his mind take him where he knew he needed to go. The lashing snow no longer was his main concern, something that evidently shown on his face when he approached the captain.

"Andragoras."

He'd already gotten the guard's attention, but at least Robin's voice didn't give away his feelings.

Andragoras came closer, snow coating the flyaway beard strands that tangled in the wind. Beneath the graying mess, his lips clenched. Waiting.

The words were soft when Robin spoke next. Sad. But warning. He pointed pointed in the direction of the street, past the houses and businesses, through the inn that held the rest of the guards.

"I found him."

The winter storm would be the least of their worries.