Sir Florent had a melancholic look painted across his face. He shook his head before he nodded. He spread his arms a little and Ray came to take off his armour. Wilbur saw as his gauntlet was removed, It was the gauntlet, wasn't it? Finch raised his arms in defense, it was the gauntlet that proved itself meaningless. Wilbur closed his eyes in a vain attempt to push back the thoughts.

He saw Ray partly shiver as he unhinged part after part and placed it in the cart they had. Vambraces, breast plates and even helmet. Beads of sweat had formed on Sir Florent's head, his jaw clenched. Everyone has their secrets, mused Wilbur. And you don't? Flinch died for you were weak. You Wilbur, you. It was always you. For you couldn't stand up to the alchemist, Finch died.

And he saw Finch come towards him.

...Finch coughed up blood as he walked towards Wilbur through the dark forest. He grinned as he looked up and said how the Furginian girl had promised him a kiss if he returned unhurt. 'Don't tell her about these scratches, Wilbur. I am counting on you'. Counting on you..It was YOU..always YOU..Wilbur...

Wilbur's body tensed as tried to push the memory back. It was like a boat blown with holes. He pushed back from one hole only to see water seep with double force from another.

Sir Florent pushed his left leg in the ground and low rumbling echoed through the forest. The Greenlits ran behind giggling as if it was a game, few of the green eyes disappearing. Wilbur felt the pull on his mind soften as Sir Florent's show of alchemy strengthened. Magic was one thing the Greenlits ran away from, a little alchemy was sufficient to hold them back. But holding to alchemy for over five hours, even of a low tier, was too difficult a task for a single man. Silence resumed as the voices cleared, the reverberations stopped and Wilbur assumed that it would be some time before the Greenlit returned. He signalled to resume their journey and so they did.

Wilbur was wrong.

A single instant after Sir Florent paused, he saw the eyes with blood instead of tears.

...Eyes of his mentor. He stood as four swords stabbed him. World spun around Wilbur as he ran as fast as he could from his mentor. He ran and ran in the rain that left him dry. Till the image of his Commander loomed more than their shadows did. Wilbur you were weak. You ran Wilbur. Then you ran. Now you will run. Because you are Wilbur Glidron the one who only runs. A blaze shot up behind his mentor that shook the ground. And intensified the shadow blinding Wilbur. Shadows that blinded...

A scream brought Wilbur back. He hadn't moved an inch, his hand on the hilt. Sir Florent had started using alchemy again as the Greenlits scattered a little.

It was the Priest's son who had screamed. The Priest lay by him. Violet had launched an arrow that harmlessly lodged into a Mirwood tree, giving a short shriek. Thralin, his squire, hadn't uttered a word but his jaw was clenched and eyes hollow as if he hadn't slept for the past few weeks. Ray was bent on the ground shivering. Carter Hill had unsheathed a knife. Priest Bill was furiously chanting the names of the old Gods and the new.

The Gods can't save you from yourself, O Priest.

Sir Florent was clutching his right arm as his leg performed alchemy. Greenlits were known to drive people to the point of insanity if left unchecked. But only Sir Florent had the means to do so.

He spoke panting, "I will sustain low tier alchemy. Don't waste an instant, just keep walking. Leave the rest to me. I don't have to summon anything just start the process. Go now."

"Can you use alchemy while walking Sir Florent?" Asked Wilbur his voice a whisper.

"Yes." Saying so Sir Florent started walking the ground a low rumble behind his wake.

Wilbur signalled forward as Carter Hill passed the message to the entirety of the force.

Wilbur walked forward as he heard a low groan. He no longer had the energy to try to see if it was a reality or a trick by Greenlits.

Wilbur widened his eyes as he saw the path ahead. He shouted," Move forward. Stop not for an instant. Look ahead at the path illuminated by the White God." In a forest where whispers amplified to a scream, Wilbur's shout reverberated to resemble a roar. Everyone started moving forward some grudgingly, some with a firm resolve. Thralin was among the later; he always was. He unsheathed his blades. Wilbur put a hand on his shoulder, "No, sheath your swords and weapons. Leave them in the cart if possible. No saying what tricks are played upon you." Thralin obediently threw his swords recklessly in the cart as did many others taking the cue.