Tyrion eyes the child, unsure of what he just heard. "I'm sorry, who did you say you were?" Surely, he didn't hear that right.

"Rowan Breia Autumnsong. Can I go back to bed now?" Rowan turns back to Bellamina, who smiles softly and pats the child's head.

The halfling steps forward. "Rowan, right? Your father...Do you know who he is?" Dots begin to be connected, and his lips begin to tug to the sides.

The child turns back to Tyrion and nods sleepily. "Yeah, Mother says his name was Phinneas, but she always called him Finn. Why are you asking so many questions, mister?" Rowan moves behind Bellamina, but Tyrion raises his hands.

"Apologies, little one. I'm a curious sort. I like to get to the truth of things. Your dear Bellamina was asking my friends and I to help find your mother." Amadeo eyes Tyrion but remains silent. Hope opens her mouth, but the halfling's stone faced expression gives her pause. "We were just going to rest here tonight after a long journey, as all the inns are closed, then head off in the morning. We'll be out of your hair by the time you wake up tomorrow."

Bellamina's face falls, Tyrion's pleads. Finally, she nods. "Aye, they're going to look for your mother, you remember how I told you she was going off to do something very important? Well these fine folks are going to make sure she's ok and bring her home."

Despite the sleepiness, Rowan's face shifts with recognition, eyes brightening. "They will? You'll bring Mother home?"

"Yes, we most certainly will. Safe and sound, I guarantee it." He smiles brightly, hands in his pockets. "Apologies for disturbing you. We'll let you get back to sleep."

"Ok, weird mister." Taking Bellamina's hand, Rowan goes back up the stairs, letting off a yawn.

When they're out of sight, Tyrion grabs Amadeo's hand. "Lad." His only word, and the wizard kneels, taking the halfling in as powerful a hug as he can muster.

"It's alright. I'm here, we're all here." The halfling slumps against his companion, legs failing him. Amadeo helps him to a chair, where Tyrion stares into a corner of the room, taking deep breaths. They're silent for a while, a soft hum drifting down from upstairs. Hope stands against a wall, Anna looks outside the window to the gradually lightening sky. Amadeo sits across from Tyrion, deep in thought.

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How do you even start that conversation, Amadeo wonders. The creak of floorboards soon announced the return of Bellamina, hands clasped in front of her. "...Young Master." Tyrion turns his gaze in her direction. Blank faced, he stares quietly at the woman, who approaches slowly. "Please don't be angry with me, Young Master. Nor with Frida."

"I have a child." The halfling almost whispers, hands shaking on the arm rests of the chair. He stands abruptly, tearing through the room and out the front door in a second.

"Young Master!" Bellamina calls out to him, but Anna raises a hand.

"Leave him be. I'll watch over him, but he's gonna need a minute away. Amadeo, can you find me if you need to?" She turns to the wizard, who flicks through his spellbook with a chuckle.

"I can indeed. Look for the dark skinned elf in a village full of short people. Easy as lying."

Anna smiles at the joke before dashing out into the darkness in pursuit of Tyrion. Amadeo takes a seat in the front room, folding his arms. "I don't blame you for not telling him. I can understand how hard it would probably be for you. Coming home looking for his wife and mother, only to discover there's a new member of the family he never got to meet."

"It was Frida's wish to keep Rowan hidden, in case Lord Autumnsong tried to take him. He's a good boy, but very much like his father was at that age; rambunctious, curious, a sponge for knowledge, and brashly honest about everything. I've never had anyone complain about my cooking until Rowan became my charge." Bellamina tries to laugh, wiping her eyes of a little wetness. "The Young Master, is he alright these days?"

"He's getting better, I think." Hope responds, laying Valkyrie propped against a wall. "Truth be told, we only found the truth out about him not even half a day ago. But for his part, Ty-...Finn has been a true companion."

"He's an expert marksman, and a uniquely wise individual with quite the strokes of dumb luck." adds Amadeo, smirking a bit. "I think he'll be just fine once he's had a chance to calm down."

"I hope you're right. I've known the Young Master since the day he was born, and his mother even before that. I'm sure it hurt him greatly to find out this way..." Bellamina folds her hands together. "Dawnmother, guide and keep him in your light."

Hope steps toward the cowfolk, clasping her folded hands in the devilkin's own. "Don't worry. Tyrion is a smart man, he'll understand."

Amadeo looks toward the window, the darkness abating with the coming of the dawn; the pink and purple skyline becoming rapidly visible. Flipping through his book, he retracts a piece of fine copper wire, focusing his mind. Barely a few seconds pass before he rises from his seat. "Something's happening. We need to go!"

"Where?" Hope lifts the massive blade as the wizard heads for the door, Bellamina following behind.

"Ol' Stumpy, I think. We'll find em." Taking a tuft of fur from his pack, Amadeo whispers something into it, his eyes glazing over with an orange shroud. "This way!" He shouts, and the three dash into the crisp dawn air.