Salvador and Emma had found their way back to the tavern and parted to their rooms. In the morning, Salvador had stumbled back down the stairs to get some breakfast. Yesterday, Tomas had assigned one of his men to be with Emma at all times to ensure her safety. The captain sat with Gerard at a table in the far corner of the room. Salvador moved to join them, avoiding the gazes of the many eyes in the tavern that morning. Just the three of them. Just like how it started out. He sat down and ordered a mojito cocktail. As he waited for his drink, Captain Tomas spoke up, "What do we do now?" asked the captain.

Gerard sighed. "The Réaltimarines are most likely only a few days' march away from here. Stéphane put her ear to the ground last night and heard reports that they had just burned down the village of Anativa."

Salvador wrung his hands. Anativa had been a nice village. His mother had taken him there once on a small trading venture. The people had been exceptionally friendly. "Anativa..." he muttered. "They're only two days away from Sapinsville." He lifted his gaze to Gerard. "How many men?"

Gerard was obviously uncomfortable. "She said that she had heard over ten-thousand men."

Salvador cursed loudly. It drew more than a few gazes. Tomas gave him a pointed stare. "Sorry, sorry," he said, waving his hands as if to clear the air. "Sometimes my mouth grows legs and runs off on its own." Tomas huffed.

Salvador leaned in close. "What are we supposed to do? We have two days and the lord of the manor has decided to take leave to visit his brother in Rivièrra. We do not have time on our hands."

"Time is the cruelest thief of all," Tomas murmured.

"Damn straight," Salvador agreed. He fingered his rune. The copy of the one that his mother had worn the day she had di―

She's not dead you fool! She can't be! He reminded himself harshly. But everytime he did... it felt weaker. Not as resolved as he used to be. Doubt had always lingered with him but now it was ever-growing in its power.

Gerard spread his hands almost as if in defeat. "I can reveal myself as who I am and Tomas can as well. Perhaps together we can quickly organize everyone we can in a defense of the town―"

"In two days?" Salvador said, cutting him off. He shook his head. "It's impossible. It's all impossible. It's all for nothing, damn it."

Tomas' eyes shot up to behind Salvador. His hand shot to his sidesword. Salvador noticed it immediately; he rose and turned, by the time has was all the way around, his dagger was out of his belt. But when he saw who was behind him, his tongue felt like a swollen sponge and his legs turned to cooked pasta, the ends of his hair seemed to dig into his skins like needles tipped with poison. His dagger trembled in his hands and no words managed to make their way past his lips, although his mind was saying a hundred different things all at the same time.

"So quick to bare steel, are you?" Arrio quipped as he lowered his hood. The figure next to him followed suit.

Isaiah.

The boy grinned, "Well, well, here he is!"

Salvador had imagined this moment a thousand times. He thought he would rush forward and grip the two of them in a hug fit for a bear. That he would shake and sob, or speak to him of his adventures. He had visited Sapinsville before, but he had never sought out the people from his past. He didn't want to face them. All he ever did was go to the keep that housed the Lord Rivera of Sapinsville. Staring, wondering, how he could get in. How he could save the mother he knew was trapped behind those walls.

But now, here they stood. The spectres of his past, manifested. And all he could do was stand still, mouthing words that never came to be.

Isaiah had grown to be a strong boy, with thick arms and the formings of what Salvador had no doubt would be a bushy chestnut beard. Arrio had retained his plump form, wearing eyeglasses and a thick mop of black hair. Arrio snorted at Salvador's silence. "Not exactly what I was expecting, but sure."

Salvador finally regained the ability to speak. "For better or worse," he retorted.

Arrio shrugged. "You're tall. That's about it." Arrio's eyes latched on to Gerard. "That's him... the knight at the Fachonlugar. The one who saved you from Maximil. It's Gerard the Freelancer." Gerard nodded modestly. Arrio turned to Tomas. "And are you his Peasant Mercenary?"

Salvador scoffed and Arrio grinned at the sound. "I'm kidding, Salvi. I knew it was you."

"The Peasant Mercenary!" Isaiah boomed and the entire tavern cheered with him.

Salvador was surprised. "You know of us?"

Isaiah laughed a deep rumbling laugh. "Are you jesting? The Freelancer Knight and the Peasant are known all throughout the kingdom."

"Gerard is the story of the highborns, but us commoners speak of the tales of his sidekick, the Peasant."

Sidekick, Salvador thought to himself. Indignant. Gerard seemed to hear his thoughts and flashed him a grin.

Isaiah elbowed Arrio. "He says 'us' commoners but he loves to play pretend with them highborns in the keep."

Arrio's smile fell and Salvador processed what Isaiah had just said. The tavern members were still as racoucus as ever, sharing their favorite stories of the exploits of Salvador and Gerard. "You work at the keep?" Salvador asked Arrio directly.

The plump boy's gaze went to his feet. "The current castellan is an old man and his health is failing. He has no children to succeed him and His Lordship Rivera entrusted me to become his student so that when he dies, I shall take his place and begin a new line of castellans."

Incredulous, Salvador's mouth hung open. "You serve the man who killed my father," he whispered harshly.

"He killed your mother too," Isaiah pointed out.

"Thank you for that, Isaiah," Arrio snapped. "And you have to understand, Salvador―"

"What?" Salvador raged. "What do I need to understand?"

The tavern fell silent.

"I think I have a pretty clear grasp upon this. You serve the man who kille―"

"Your father isn't dead, Salvador!" Arrio shouted over him.

That shocked Salvador onto his arse.

Everything around him melted away and faded into the memory of what had happened eight years ago on the house atop of the hill. How the spear had pierced his father's chest. How his mother had shrieked and urged him to run. He could still remember how beautiful of a day it had been, the sun had smiled upon them, the wind had been playful and dancing, the sky an illustrious shade of clear blue.

Why did Arrio give him such lies and false hopes?

"You take me for a fool," Salvador snarled.

Arrio gripped his pendent depicting an angelic rune. Uwyriel's Rune. "I swear by Uwyriel's name, your father lives."

Salvador would not cry, but he felt the tears attempt to break the dam that was the mask he wore. No―he would stay strong. "Show me."

Arrio shook his head. "Castellan Luigi would recognize you in an instant!"

Salvador spat on the ground. "That old fool is still alive?"

Gerard suddenly stood up and gripped both Salvador and Arrio tightly by the arms and dragged them out of the tavern. "Too many ears," was all he said by way of explanation.

Salvador tore out of Gerard's grasp and stepped closer to Arrio. "You'll get me in somehow, damn it.

Isaiah stepped between them and pushed Salvador back. "What the hell happened to you, Salvi?"

"Oh, shut up, Isaiah!"

Isaiah crossed his arms. "No. Who do you think you are? You think because you pandered to a knight for years that that somehow makes you different from us?" Isaiah scoffed. "Accept it, Salvador. You're a peasant. To the bone. You're no better than us."

Salvador couldn't believe what he was hearing. A laugh escaped his lips. "I am different from you! I killed a man when I was ten! You think you can do that, Isaiah? Do you have it in you?"

The boy puffed up his chest and said, "Yes, I do." It was ridiculous. Salvador let that show. Isaiah noticed, and the burly boy's expression shifted from simple anger to sheer rage.

Salvador didn't see the punch that followed.

It took him in the jaw and threw him to the ground. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He was too shocked to get back up. This was not how it was all supposed to go...

When he turned to face Isaiah, both him and Arrio were long gone. Only Gerard and Tomas stood over him. Salvador snarled. "Thank you both for your ever unfailing help."

Tomas shrugged. "A good punch never hurt anyone."

Salvador spat out blood. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Tomas snorted. "You know damn well."

Gerard just sighed. "We have limited time to act Salvador. How in Mikkael's name are we supposed to gather them to face the Evrúopeans when you've alienated the heir to the castellan?"

"You do it then!" he roared. He shot up violently to his feet. "I'm not bloody needed nor wanted here. All I've found is ghosts and shadows." He slowly stumbled away, not knowing where he was going. Only away.