Afternoon had come, and the camp was set once more. Truman headed for the knights' bonfire, to which he hadn't been invited, but he decided to attend anyway.

Truman wasn't exactly trying to curry favor, that wasn't how he thought of it, at least. He was trying to extort money out of anyone he could. And if a little groveling was what it took, then so be it.

He was yawning, trudging his feet across the ground when his vision began blurring.

When was the last time I slept more than an hour...? He wondered, but the memory eluded him.

His limbs grew heavier with every step, his mouth agape in another endless yawn, when he caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

It was the same scent he had noticed when he gor lost after he took Thomas's night shift in exchange for three silver coins.

Speaking of Thomas, Truman wondered if he might be persuaded to let him take his shift tonight, too...

"Whatewer happened to human wights..." A feminine voice interrupted his thoughts, coming from just a few paces to his left.

Penelope Ashdown. That was the source of the lavender scent.

Oh, right. I should confront her about her lies. Truman debated. She wasn't a clergywoman; she was just a kind lady...

Truman altered his course, heading for the prisoner's 'dining area', which was barely fifteen meters from the knights' bonfire. Commander Blert had made this arrangement to ensure stricter security.

Blert had expressed his disappointment in Truman's behavior after Penelope's last escape attempt, making him swear never to reveal that she had impersonated Melissa at the Merchant Guild's tent in exchange for forgiveness.

He also ripped a large chunck off of his wage for the journey. That was the only part that mattered and angered Truman.

"I miss weawring shoes..." Penelope sat on a large boulder, leaning over to massage her feet. Truman could only see her back as he wobbly closed the distance.

There was an empty soup bowl set to her side on the wet, grassy ground, and for once, her hair didn't look like a messs of locks, but had gone back to its flowy golden nature after she was allowed to clean and brush it this morning.

"You," Truman began as he drew near.

Penelope jumped, startled by his voice. She turned to him with a sharp glare.

Truman intended to apologize for scaring her, but as he opened his mouth, only a long sigh escaped, and the tall man collapsed to the ground, face-first.

Penelope jumped again at the sudden thud, her glare softening into surprised worry.

She quickly assessed the situation—should she call for help, or flee before the knights arrived and blamed her for his sudden collapse?

Penelope she didn’t have time to ponder further. Her blue gaze, surprisingly calm given the circumstances, was fixed on Truman when a long, deep snore escaped his lips.

Penelope got off the boulder and stepped closer to his body, the grass crunching under her feet.

He’s beathing, she observed, noting the steady rise and fall of his back.

Kneeling beside him, Penelope gently used her index finger to push Truman's face off the ground and to the side so he could breathe more easily. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed, and for the first time, she noticed the pronounced dark circles under his eyes.

"He’s asleep," she mumbled, rising to return to her rock. She glanced back at Truman, who now slept as soundly aa baby.

"Pay..." Truman mumbled. "... Full... asshole."

"... Weirtho." She said, snorting at her inability to speak properly still.

She made a point to remind herself that she was the real weirdo here.

Payment... Penelope's mind whirred with an idea.

“Thwuman?” she called softly, receiving no response. “Do you want to be rich?” she asked, louder this time.

“… Hm.” Truman flinched slightly at the word rich.

Sitting on her rock, she thought it all over. She recalled Truman’s night shift, which had followed a full day’s work—she noted that she had seen him laboring before she attempted her escape. His attitude toward the other knights, his evident exhaustion...

A wicked grin spread across Penelope’s face as she stared into the darkening woods around her.

'I think I found one.' She thought, a flare of delight making her blue eyes sparkle under the moonlight. 'A candidate to be my partner in crime.'

Day 2: End

----------------------------------------

Day 3: Start

I was humming a tune, watching the knights on their horses gallop beside my prison carriage. My cute little stone golem-shaped black wooden sculpture was wedged between the metal bars of the window. I had named him Pip.

For the first time since I arrived here, I had a good feeling about this day.

Last night, I finally found him: a suitable partner in crime.

I had a list of requirements for a partner, and he needed four essential attributes: in need of money, Slow on the uptake, Trustworthy, and Can protect me.

And Truman checked most of these.

My gaze fixated on Truman, whose large build made him stand out from his peers, even as he rode the shortest horse in the bunch.

“Alithe,” I called to the maid sitting across from me. We were alone in the carriage, as usual. I hadn’t realized she was trying to sleep, given her droopy eyes.

"Yes?"

"How well awe you acquainted wid Thruman?"

I sound like I'm three, god damnit.

I wondered if a potion existed that could spare me from the hellish pain I felt every time I opened my mouth to talk. I couldn’t brew an anesthetic for myself just yet; I didn’t have the freedom to roam and gather the necessary ingredients either.

"Well enough." Alice replied.

"I newer sheen you tok to him do (though)?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"Are you dissatisfied with my usefulness, my lady?"

No, just questioning your truthfulness.

"Does he pik up ode jobs?" I put a hand on my jaw, grimacing at the pain.

"... Yes." Alice galnced at my motion with a glint of malaise in her eyes. "I’ve heard he collects herbs and sells them to the medic. He also takes on shifts from his colleagues in exchange for money. He, well, to illustrate, he has a habit of asking people if they have any labour he can help them accomplish, to the point where he gained the nickname of 'QuesTruman.'"

He plays dumb, but I have a feeling he's sharper than he lets on.

"I have a question," Alice spoke up from the seat facing my own, breaking me out of my fantasies of freedom.

Alice had been quiet since morning, as usual, and this was the first time she spoke to me in a while. As soon as the words left her lips, she seemed to cringe at herself, glare at space and then look back at me.

Her hair appeared a shade darker within the carriage, as did her eyes.

"What is it?" I asked, a little too welcoming of her question.

"There," she pointed to my neck. I looked down, remembering the injury I had quickly bandaged using the fabric I meant to steal for my jaw. "What happened, in your opinion?"

In my opinion? The hell?

"Nearly got beheaded by the cowander."

Alice didn't seem surprised by my revelation, more by my brutal honesty...

"... I will talk to the commander about the physician's negligence." She kept a careful at the clumsily bandaged injury. "He was specifically assigned to keep you healthy. Your father paid an extra fee for his presence at our side."

Marquis Ashdown? That's unexpected.

"Okay," I leaned back in my seat. "Goot luk."

I turned back toward the horizon, where the world seemed to stretch out endlessly, a greenery-covered hill, both beautiful and treacherous in its vastness. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the landscape, dulling the dust kicked up by the horses’ hooves and the creaking wheels of our carriage.

Though the metal bars of the window obstructed my view, I had grown accustomed to their presence by now.

I was slowly falling into a slumber, something to be expected given how I got three gours of nightmares last night and barely one of real sleep.

A sudden thought jolted me awake. "By the way..." I murmured, my eyelids heavy with the weight of exhaustion. "Healing pot-potion... Can I buy one?"

Alice, ever vigilant, responded immediately. "I shall try to—" but her words faltered as her eyes drooped close. "Get it..."

She fell asleep. What an unprofessional...

Before I could finish that thought, my head slipped and fell against the window, and for the first time in the past two weeks, I fell asleep.