The tavern was full. It was full of people, full of noise and full of energy. The pair entered with the confidence of pure invisibility that wearing cloaks somewhere no one else is wearing cloaks gives you. So the woman with the golden hair flowing out of her cloak and the man wearing obvious plate mail under his sat down with complete obviousness in the stereotypical darkened corner booth.

A young man shows up standing at the edge of the table so immediately that the woman was startled, “greetings adventurers. What may I get for the two of you.”

“What makes you think we are adventurers?” the large man asked.

The young man looked over the large warrior for a few minutes. “Well, you are jumpy enough that just my stepping up to the table has you drawing your blade half out of its scabbard.” He gave them a quick smile as the warrior resheathed his sword, “also you picked a darkened corner and you are both wearing cloaks with hoods that you have yet to remove even though in here it does not appear to be raining.” They still stared at him, dumbstruck at the insight his words revealed. “Let me guess, you'll have wine,” he said to the woman, then turned to the man, “and you an ale.” He waited for a heartbeat in the relative silence of the noisy tavern for their nonexistent answers before nodding and walking away.

The young man stepped up to the bar, “hey Franco. One ale and a wine.”

“What's with the newcomers?” Asked the barkeep, wiping a mug with the same dirty rag he'd been using all night.

“Nobles maybe, or wealthy at least and not used to openly sharing space with the peasantry.”

“Oh,” laughed Franco, with a wink of his eye. “Bet it's a quest. Bet you a sliver that the fate of the world… no that's too much, I bet the fate of at least a kingdom is at stake.”

“Maybe Franco, but at least two other groups have claimed that tonight.” He laughed as he took the tray adding a mug and a goblet and made his way back to the corner table.

She turned to the man with a less than pleased look on her face, “when you said we could slip in unnoticed I assumed you meant by everyone, Wogan.” She flipped the hood down on her cloak with annoyed emphasis, causing her long blonde locks to bounce in perfect spiral curls framing a thin porcelain like face. She had eyes of sparkling blue, thin red lips and a small bump of a nose, the kind of beauty only found in fairy tales.

“Apologies, my lady,” he said, lowering his hood as well, revealing a thick rugged face with a neatly trimmed sandy beard and shoulder length hair to match. Steely gray eyes looked into hers, eyes that to those who were observant enough were plainly hungry for the gaze of those blue eyes. “I assumed this was still how it was done. I guess the adventurer world has changed since my last assignment.”

“You said the success of this endeavor hinged on being covert.” she verbally poked at him again.

“You do not stand out any more than everyone else here attempting the same.” Said the young server, cheerfully appearing back at the table and once again causing them a startle. “Believe me, nothing stands out more than someone trying NOT to stand out.” He added setting the tray down and placing the goblet and mug in front of each. He also placed a small bowl of a thick brown stew with a spoon in front of each of them. “If you wish to go unnoticed eat, drink, for god's sake smile and pretend you belong here.” He gave them a smile and as the warrior fished about his pouches for his money bag the woman took the spoon and tasted the food. It was plain looking, full of bits of root vegetables and meat. It had a thick, reddish brown sauce that was well spiced. She had to admit it was better than many gourmet dishes she had been served.

The lad placed a hand on the man's as he was pulling out a coin with a particularly golden hue, “it's only three bits. I would keep the shinier coinage put away unless you are looking to get robbed.”

The warrior looked up at the server blankly at first, the magnitude of his level of astuteness kept the valiant knight off guard, but he quickly nodded and after fishing a moment more in the pouch, produced exactly three copper coins.

“Excellent, you enjoy that and I will be back in a little while to see if you need anything else.” He said with a wink, and turned to depart.

The woman caught his arm with her hand before he could leave, “please, you seem quite knowledgeable about things around here. Could you answer a few inquiries?”

She looked up at him with her flawless features, well almost flawless. There was a crease across her brow, small and nigh-imperceivable from years of wearing either a circlet or maybe a tiara. That with her bearing and manner of speech told him all he needed to know about who she was. And knowing who she was told him all he needed to know about her companion.

“The city of Adelphi,” she began, “it is not far from here, yes?”

“The holy city?” He replied. “Depending on how you are traveling it's two days at a hard ride, four at a canter, and a little over a week by foot. It is also perpetually under siege by monsters I heard told.”

She smiled charmingly up at him. Lovely, endearing and most assuredly practiced, “yes, we have heard as well. Nevertheless, there is something in the city we require. The fate of our kingdom depends on it.”

He owed Franco a silver coin, damnit. “I see. Well I wish you well on your quest.”

“Also,” she began again, once more putting a stop to him taking his leave. “You said we were not the only ones trying not to be noticed. Care to elaborate on your observations.” She slid a gold sovereign across the table, barely hidden by her three fingers but the shining edges plainly visible.

He slipped the coin out from under her hand and planted it firmly against the table under his palm. He knew he shouldn't stick his neck into their affairs, but the sovereign would more than cover his bet with Franco. “Well,” he began as he took a quick glance around the bar. “Three of your peers here are bounty hunters, Beccance, Incastro, and Torvance.” He indicated individuals with a slight toss of his head. “There are five people with bounties on them. Percil, Raddacrist, Olyverner, Red Roger, and interesting enough Torvance again.” Once more, pointing them each out with a nod. “There is another questing party plotting out their next move in that other dark corner and two more parties taking up our private rooms, one of which claims the fate of the whole world hangs on their success.” With an exhale after he finished, he slid the coin off the table and dropped it into his pouch. He nodded once more and turned, walking away finally.

He berated himself as he departed. He knew he shouldn't have involved himself. Worse than that, he was violating the rules of blending in that he himself had just laid out for them. He just stood out to them, and chances are they would remember. It was lucky that Franco was paying him tomorrow. The fourteen bits he earned in the three weeks he was here plus the seven tomorrow would put him at twenty-one, that and the sovereign was definitely enough for him to move on again. He would be on the move as soon as his pay was in his pocket and it would begin again.

“So what was that all about?” the warrior named Wogan asked when their waiter had left.

“Since we can't be sure who, if anyone is following us I employed another set of eyes.” Replied the woman.

“I doubt the sorcerer put a bounty on us.” He countered with a raised eyebrow. “It will most likely be mercenaries. And they don't announce their presence quite as readily.”

“But we know who not to watch now.” She said with a smile, and while he may not have agreed with her logic, he was happy to see her smile.

They sat for a few hours, the waiter brought her two more glasses of the wine while he had four more mugs of the ale and another bowl of stew.

“You should see to lodgings for the night.” she said with a yawn. She had removed her cloak in the warmth of the inn, and when she stretched her arms above her head in the middle of the yawn it brought the soft curves of her body to full display through her gown. She lowered her arms and looked at him with a tilt of her head since he had neither offered a reply nor gotten up in the interim, and just sat there looking at her.

“Oh,” he uttered, standing so suddenly in his embarrassment he knocked over the chair he was sitting in. “Apologies, my lady.” He reoriented the chair and hurried away. She kept the stern look on her face just long enough for him to disappear into the crowd before she let a smile work its way onto her lips.

The big man made his way through the crowded bar toward the innkeeper desk. The young man was torn between getting closer to the desk to hear if he would purchase one room or two and returning to the table. The woman he was with was certainly pretty enough to warrant another look. But his decision was made for him when the man in furs stepped in front of the warrior and swung an ax at him.

The big man in the cloak was faster than the young man expected, especially wearing heavy armor. As quick as he registered the threat he stepped to the side and planted one of his palms on the ax and pushed it away from himself. The ax only collided with the floor, sending wood shards into the air. The warrior drew his sword just as the man swung his ax again. The warrior had to block with both hands on his sword to slow the heavy weapon's progression.

“Who do you serve?” The Wogan asked through gritted teeth. He forced the ax down with his blade, freeing the space between them for the warrior to land a blow across the attacker's face. “Answer me!”

As the assailant tried to ready his ax again, Wogan grasped his wrist and with a shift of his hips, he flung the barbarian face first into one of the tavern's support pillars. The way he fought, the master crafted quality of his gear there could be no doubt now what this man was. He could have easily dispatched his opponent by now, something an adventurer or mercenary would have done by now just because it would be quicker. But he wanted answers, because he was no sell-sword. He was a Kingsblade, a knight in service of a crown. And the young man was sure now not only what crown he must serve but the fact that his opponent was so outmatched that the barbarian wasn't trying to win. He was keeping the knight busy, leaving the crown unguarded.

He rushed off in the direction of the table the knight had been seated at and immediately spotted the only person not actively moving closer to the fight for a better view. Moving against the crowd of onlookers, a man in black robes walked purposefully toward the woman the knight had left seated at the table, and he was moving his fingers in complicated, practiced patterns. The young waiter snatched a serving tray as he passed a table, sending empty wooden cups and bowls clattering to the floor.

She sat at the table in practiced, demure grace. When the commotion managed to get the whole of the bar to its feet she was curious, but her upbringing prevented her from partaking in such unsavory activities as gawking. The commotion that filtered over the tavern room sounded like violence, and having watched her companion when he trained, it sounded like familiar violence. But with that thought, she was now keenly aware of her shadow's absence. That this may be a diversion. A quick thought that was even more quickly overshadowed by the parting of the crowd and its subsequent dislodging of the scary man in black robes. He raised his hands as light flared to life in front of them. The light became flame, the flame became a ball of fire.

“Now princess, you die! Igneous!” He screamed as a jet of flame exploded from his hands.

Wogan held the barbarian by the hair on the back of his head. Blood ran down the man's face and several teeth were missing from his mouth. Yet the man laughed as he continued to demand, “who sent you?”

He did not realize he was a decoy until he heard the caster scream the word princess and the light of the fire illuminate the other side of the tavern.

“Angeline!” The knight screamed. He turned on his heel, bringing his blade up laying across his forearm as he spun. Its edge drug across the barbarian's neck as he broke into a run, spraying even more blood all over the beam he had been being bashed against.

Angeline screamed as the heat of the fire rushed at her. She threw up her arms in a hopeless attempt to stave off being incinerated. But immolation never came. She opened her eyes to see the light of the fire was still present but it wrapped around her, splitting like the water around the post in a river. Where this post would be stood the young man who had been waiting on them all night. The flames refused to come near him it seemed.

The magic assassin was laughing as the gout of flame pouring over the princess died away only to reveal the young man standing in front of her, holding out a serving tray. Neither he, the princess or the tray for that matter was singed in the least. This brought his laugh to an abrupt halt. If it hadn't, the tray flung into his face surely would have.

When the fire stopped, the young man flung the tray like a disc at the face of the magic wielding assassin. He recognised this man. He had come in with the group that claimed the fate of the world was at stake. And now that he remembered where he had seen him he recalled the man in furs with them. As well as the fact that they had three more in their party.

“We should run, your highness.” He said taking her by the wrist and pulling her toward the back of the inn.

“What!” She cried, louder than he would have liked as they passed through a door into what looked like the kitchen to her. “Unhand me. You apparently know who I am so you should know not to touch my person. And how exactly did you do that back there?”

He stopped in the pantry and released her arm as he turned to face her, “my apologies your highness, but you needed to vacate the premises before the other four of his friends arrived. There are five of them and I doubt only two of them want you dead.”

She looked at him with one eyebrow raised. She wasn't going to just forget the last question it seemed. “We use really strong trays okay,” he lied and gestured at the door to outside. “Shall we?”

She, of course, did not believe that for a second, but he was correct and the attempted assassins would soon catch up. Her protector was right, it seemed about the Sorcerer King hiring mercenaries, “Wogan!” She cried suddenly, remembering her Kingsblade had left to procure rooms and not returned.

“He's fine,” said the lad as they rounded the back of the inn toward the staff entrance and the stables beyond, “from what I saw he can handle himself and will probably catch up to us.” He ran toward the rear door of the inn, hoping for the chance to duck into his room and retrieve his things before fleeing town with a princess that had a price on her head.

The door slammed open, pulling the nails holding its hinges out of the wood of the doorframe. The large reptilian man that had been with the ‘fate of the world’ group took large strides out into the night, brandishing an equally large curved blade.

Wogan sprinted through the crowded bar towards where the light that died away seconds ago could only mean his princess was burned away to ash on his watch. His heart ached with more than failed duty at the thought. As he reached the spot where he expected to see her charred body and was, for the umpteenth time tonight, taken aback by only the sight of the black robed man coughing up blood and quite a few of his own teeth next to one of the inn's serving trays on the floor next to him. Wogan was fairly sure he would be having trouble casting spells if his injured mouth kept him from speaking clearly. But being himself one who preferred to be sure of things, he drove his armored knee into said mouth as he passed.

There were scorch marks in a half circle around the table and up the wall where she was seated. The tray that had been on the floor next to the assassin told Wogan that his lady was being helped by one or more members of the staff. The safest direction they would have taken her was the kitchen.

As he started his run to the door leading to the back of the house a warbling scream caught his attention for a moment before a woman flew over one of the intact, still occupied tables and collided with him.

She was tall, lean and practically wrapped head to toe in black leather. She wore a black mask that covered her eyes and the top of her head, out of which black hair cascaded down her back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and began trying to use his torso to put her daggers away.

The points defected off the metal of his plates several times but the tip found its way between the mail of his joints often enough to let him know just how sharp they were. She climbed all over him like a mad squirrel, continuing to search for soft spots in his defense. It took several breaths for Wogan to get enough of a grip on her to fling her off him and into the crowd.

Once she was off him, the warrior broke into a run. She pulled herself to her feet using the table she had just moments ago bounced across. But a quick glance over at the man in furs laying in his own blood, changed her heading and she made a sprint for the wounded barbarian instead.

“Move!” The lad screamed as he shoved the princess out of the way of the huge sword that crashed into the ground between them. He barely retracted his hands from its path in time. “Run!” he told her as she stood there wide eyed.

The large reptile man turned to the now fleeing girl and began to stride after her. He was ignoring the young man, and would be on her in just a few steps so he had to act fast. He stood next to the woodpile for the inn and on instinct more than anything he picked up the hatchet and flung it at the lizardman. The ax flew straight in a smooth arc end over end, to smack into its back handle first.

“Skite,” the lad cursed. It did however get the big lizard to stop to turn and look at him. That's right, he thought to himself at least. I'm the threat. Come after me.

It unfortunately turned away, back toward the fleeing girl, “you can run your highness, but you are just making my job more interesting.” It bellowed out before resuming the chase.

The lad, for a brief second, considered rushing into the inn, to his room to retrieve his things. But the lizardman was faster than the princess. If he was going to do anything to keep it from catching her, killing her, he had to act now. He took off at a run, and although the lizard was faster than him as well, he had walked these woods in the last few weeks he had been here. He knew how they twisted and pushed you in certain directions. She ran down the path and it followed. The lad ran into the treeline, ahead of the first curve of the path. He struggled to keep his balance as the ground pitched downhill, but it gave him a boost of speed. As he watched the princess pass in front of him, he leapt to the branch on a tree by the path and used it to swing out, catching the now passing lizardman in the head with both feet. The force that the weight of a complete person packs behind it knocked the surprised reptile off the path and further down the hill that trail wound down. The problem with the amount of force jumping onto a tree limb after a run down a hill is there is a lot left over. His momentum even after kicking it in the head carried him across the path and down the slope behind the scaly assassin. Angeline screamed as she watched her young savior tumble down the hill to the bottom of the ravine right behind the lizardman.

Stolen story; please report.

“My lady, thank the gods you are safe,” said Wogan as he slid down the hill to land beside her.

“Yes, thanks to our young friend. He saved me in the bar and just now from a lizardman.” she said hurriedly, “you need to help him.”

He looked at the princess confused. “You are still in danger. Surely the boy has served his purpose?”

“He has saved my life twice in your absence. Help him.” She repeated before adopting a sterner look on her face. A look that told him immediately that this was not a request but an order. “Help. Him.”

He had reached the bottom and crumpled into a pile of splayed limbs and bruises. He moaned as he turned his head toward a rhythmic pounding that was getting louder. He willed his eyes open, to which the pain in his head completely objected to, and saw the large humanoid reptile not only up but running at him with his equally overly large sword raised above his head. He tried to swiftly pop back to his feet, but due to a combination of simple lack of strength and general pain, the best he managed is to flop ungracefully to the side enough that the sword slashed his arm as it slid into the dirt where he was laying just a moment ago instead of impaling his chest.

“You wanted my attention boy.” the lizard man growled through clenched fangs. “But you have only succeeded in your death and I will still track down the princess and end her as well.”

Clumps of dirt flew into the air as the lizardman ripped the sword back out of the ground and swung at the prone boy. Sparks flew as two metal blades collided. Wogan swung his sword upward, driving the reptilian's weapon up as their shoulders collided. The force of a heavily armored knight barreling down the hill sent the Lizardman once more off his feet. The young man scrambled up, clutching his bleeding arm.

“Get back up the hill and get the princess to the stables.” Wogan said in the tone of a man used to ordering troops. “I'll take care of our coldblooded friend.”

The lad hurried up the path as Wogan squared off against the recovering reptile. He looked back only a tick of the clock before he sighed and ran up the path.

“Well, well. General Kuss.” The knight taunted, “so the Sorcerer King is behind this attempt at the princess after all.”

“Oh, how I’ve wanted to face you, Kingsblade.” Kuss growled, “but I had to let the barbarian have first crack at you or you would have suspected the trap!”

He lunged at the knight in emphasis of his last word. Wogan stepped to the left bringing his sword up underneath Kuss's and spun. The lizardman stumbled past Wogan's starting position letting the knight slide his blade out from under Kuss's, roll it over top of his grip and drive the blade down from the top this time. As his large falchion dug into the dirt once again, Kuss dove into a shoulder roll, returning the lizard to his feet and dragging his blade along with him. Kuss brought his blade once again and rushed at the knight.

“Too impatient, Kuss.” Wogan mocked, as he parried the blade away with both hands and drove his foot into the reptile's abdomen. “And too slow, it seems the cold of night doesn’t agree with you.”

The lizardman stumbled back but was quick to set upon the knight again. An overhead swing was parried with a side swing. Another swing and another parry, steel clashed over and over again, growing the frustration of Kuss. “I will end you Kingsblade, then I will still find your little princess and gut her as planned.”

“Never will you get close enough to her for even your fetid breath to fall upon her fair skin.” Wogan replied through gritted teeth as he once more knocked the great blade up above his head. But the lizard general quickly stepped back, narrowly avoiding the accompanying slash.

“Nice try Kingsblade,” Kuss taunted, “now who is this boy who thwarted my warlock? Did you hire yourself a wizard?”

“We hired nobody, mayhaps your warlock is just incompetent.” Wogan smiled.

“It matters not, your princess will die, the queen will be forced to surrender, and your kingdom will fall. And you will be cold and unable to prevent it. If it hasn't fallen already. How long have you been away, a fortnight or more?” Kuss sneered, angering the knight and getting him to lunge at the lizardman.

Kuss swung his blade down at the charging knight, seeking to cleave the Kingsblade in two. Just before he reached the lizardman, Wogan spun on his feet, halting his forward progression while swinging his sword up into an overhead arc, conserving its momentum. As Kuss's blade struck the ground where Wogan should have been, the knight completed his arc and drove his sword down in front of the general's hilt guard. The wide curved blade snapped off. But Kuss whipped his tail around and caught the knight in the chest, sending him back.

Wogan slid to a stop on one knee, heblooked up to see the tail of the fleeing Kuss disappear into the trees.

Wogan reached the stables to find his princess standing next to her white charger and his warhorse, already tacked and loaded. The knight aided Angeline onto the steed, “our young friend?” He asked when she was seated.

“He fled as soon as our horses were ready.” She replied, looking off into the distance thoughtfully in the direction he had departed. “It seems he is on the run from something himself.”

“Then I wish him well. We need to head to Adelphi now as fast as possible.” He looked at her as he finished and saw that stern look again that told him again plans were about to change.

The man in black robes was bent over the table in the private room of the inn, still spitting bloody teeth out while the small figure in red robes placed a glowing hand on his cheek. “Keep still Pyre if you want me to heal you.” The child-like voice childed him.

The furred barbarian lay across the lap of the woman in black leathers sitting in the corner. She had his head cradled in one arm as she ran two fingers of her other hand through his hair. “Can you do anything, Tina?”

The tiny girl in red silken robes stepped over to them and knelt down. She pushed an unruly cherry red curl to the side of her hood before placing her hand on his brow.

“I'm sorry Stelletta, he's gone.” She closed her sapphire colored eyes and a glow from her hand spread across his corpse. “Resurrection is beyond my power, but this will keep him until we find someone who can.”

“The church in the next town supposedly has a priest who can perform it,” said Pyre, wiggling his jaw as he spoke, trying to get used to his new teeth. “But they charge ten thousand sovereigns to do it.”

“We don't have that in the party treasury.” Tina sighed.

“I'll make him do it” growled Stelletta, a knife appearing in her free hand as if by magic.

“Our magic works by prayer,” said Tina, placing a hand on her shoulder, “and threatening one of us won't make the gods answer.”

The door opened letting Kuss slip in. He held the pieces of his broken sword in either hand.

“You need to pay for Brute's resurrection” Stelletta said immediately.

“Pay?” He hissed, “why should I pay for failure?”

“Really?” Chuckled Pyre, looking at the broken blade, “looks like they are still very much alive. So we aren't the only ones, it seems to have failed.”

“Brute did his job. You wanted the Kingsblade distracted. Well, he was distracted, and he cut Brute's throat for it!” Spit the leather clad woman. “You owe him at the very least.”

“Not enough for a resurrection.” He dug out a pouch and tossed it before the Stelletta, “I promised five hundred sovereigns, there is one twenty-five. For Brute's part.”

Stelletta stood, gently laying the barbarian on the floor, and in a single stride was up in the lizardman's face with a blade to his throat. “Or we can end you and take what we are owed.”

“Stop it!” Although still high pitched, those delicate tones of her voice were replaced with steel as her staff struck the floor with a loud crack. The room was silent for several breaths, in that time the dulcet, childlike tone had returned to her voice, “we will not degenerate into violence. The contract is still in effect.” The gnome girl produced a rolled up parchment. “but if our services are no longer required, General.”

The reptilian general gave a nod, “I think they are not.”

Tina dropped the scroll on the ground and once again drove her staff down on top of it. The paper disappeared in a flash of flame, “the contract is now void.”

The lizardman turned and exited the room without a word.

Stelletta returned to kneel down next to the body of their barbarian. She tenderly placed her forehead on his, “now what? We still haven't got enough to fix Brute.”

Tina hung her head for a moment, “we have enough for another option.” She started toward the door. “Bring the body, I know a druid.”

The lad sat at a fire in a clearing, not far from the road, but deep enough to not be seen. He had a scrap of cloth wrapped around his arm to staunch the bleeding from the General's cut. It had been several hours getting as far from town as he could and the sun would soon be rising. When Angeline and Wogan rode up to him he was already pale, squeezing the wound as tight as he could. Running would no longer be an option.

The princess was the first off her horse, quickly taking off the filthy bar rag and examining the cut. “It's deep, luckily I have a few healing draughts…” she said reaching into her pouch.

“Save it,” he said with a sigh.

“I knew that something was very strange about you,” she smiled, “care to explain?”

“Not particularly.” He replied.

By this time her Kingsblade had secured the horses and now stood behind her threateningly. “We still need to do something about your arm or you will bleed out before sunrise.” She reached into her pouch and removed a small needlepoint hoop. Removing the needle from the hoop she wrapped her hand in her handkerchief and passed the needle several times through the fire before threading it. “So I believe we should perhaps do with some proper introductions.” She said as she began to sew the gash in his arm closed. She was mildly impressed as he did not cry out and barely even winced as she pierced his skin and pulled the thread through. “As it seems you have surmised, I am Angeline, crown princess of Amberwyben and this is my Kingsblade Sir Wogan.”

“A pleasure, your highness.” He returned through minorly clenched teeth.

“And your name would be?” She asked as she worked.

“No one of consequence, highness. Ow!” She gave him another stern look as she stuck the needle straight into his bicep for his flippant answer. “Sorry, that was a little joke based on the fact that I am known as Xerro.”

“Zero?” Who names their child Zero?” she asked with a suspicious eye at him.

“Xerro. X-E-R-R-O, and I never knew my parents. I, along with a handful of other children, were snatched off the streets of some big city and sold to a wizard for,...” He held the last word in for a little too long, trying to find a word to use that wouldn't give up too much but might convey the severity of what happened. When he could not, and she showed signs of growing impatient, he settled for simple, “...experimentation.”

“And that is what happened back at the inn.” She deduced, to his nod, “and why a healing potion would be useless on you.”

He nodded again, her attention bounced back and forth from his words and her needlework. She was only halfway across the cut in an amount of time he would have been done already.

“You don't have to make the stitching so small.” He whispered, causing her to look up with his face inches from hers.

“The smaller the stitching the less the scar.” She replied with a look in her eye that said she was not a fan of having her decisions questioned. “So hold still.”

Princess Angeline finished his stitching and pitched the needle into the grass, not wanting to hold onto a needle for her art that had been through human flesh. While she worked Wogan had set up camp, which included a full tent to house her majesty, and cooked food over Xerro's fire. Food and water were generously provided to Xerro which paired with the loss of blood, only hastened his passing out. So when he awoke to the sensation of bouncing up and down it threatened to evict that same food and water. Xerro was surprised however to find his stomach was too empty to lose anything. The sun seared his brains when he opened his eyes and his arm throbbed from the stitching job the princess did, but he was aware enough to tell he was bound to the back of the knight's horse and the sun told him it was late in the day.

“Good afternoon.” Called out Angeline. “I do hope you slept alright. We needed to get going and you were still asleep at noon.”

“So you thought you would kidnap me?” He replied with just a hint of sarcasm.

“No!” She protested. “We are not kidnapping you. But we could not just abandon you there while you were unconscious, and you are only tied to keep you from falling off the horse in that state.” with this Wogan stopped his horse, cutting the binds on Xerro and helping him to sit up in the back of the war horse.

“Well, this is at least a little less undignified.” He mumbled as the horse began to move once more.

Angeline passed a bottle from her saddlebag to Xerro, “you must be parched, and I am sure hungry again. This will hopefully quench you and we will make camp again before sunset. I hope we will have the chance to get to know each other better this time before we all sleep.”

“Why wait? The horses are doing all the work.” He said with a smile that received a not so fond sounding grunt from Wogan. “Amberwyben? What is the princess of the largest trade kingdom on the continent doing so far from the Castle?”

“War.” She put so bluntly she could have been wielding a hammer. “The city is under siege.”

“So what would embolden lizardmen enough to attack a human city?” He continued.

“That would be their new king,” Interjected Wogan.

“A human sorcerer, he has them following his rule by claiming his magic is from him having the blood of dragons.” Angeline expounded.

“Still,” said Xerro with a sigh, “a sorcerer and a bunch of lizards. Is there a reason the emperor's troops haven't ridden in and killed these reptiles threatening the kingdom where the majority of everyone's food comes from?”

“My father.” Was her curt reply, “he felt we didn't need help, and lost his life for it at the hands of magic.”

“And with travel times to other kingdoms, and if they are smart enough to shoot down any messenger ravens, attack and pillage any caravans going to and from your kingdom, it will be another month or so before anyone else suspects something is wrong.” Once again with minimal answers from her, he had laid out a good size chunk of her tale. “So how did you escape?”

“We did not.” She answered. “We were in another kingdom on a diplomatic mission. When we returned we were attacked by a troop of lizardmen. We thought it was a raiding party. We lost two knights, when we left we were eight. Then we were attacked again and lost three more. When we realized an army was at our gates we retreated, sir Jayme gave her life to let Wogan and I escape. And we are all that remain.”

“Kuss is hunting us to kill the princess and force her mother to surrender.” Wogan finished.

“We are en route to the Holy City. We have a contact who can hopefully supply us with aid in the least, or soldiers, we pray.” Angeline closed her eyes and hung her head.

“So you saw me, and thought someone who negates magic against a sorcerer king sounded like a perfect solution?”

“Not at all Mr. Xerro, I saw a man who risked his life to help people he did not know and sought to return the favor. You were hurt and on the run. Now you are healing and still in the move.” she flashed him another princessly smile. “I take it, the wizard that performed these experiments you spoke of is still alive and after you.” He was not the only person who could play the deduction game, she thought with pride.

The lad pulled up the edge of the bandage and looked at the wound on his arm. He had to admit, to himself at least, it was some of the finest stitching he had ever seen. The scaring would be minimal.

Xerro slid down off the saddle bags and rubbed his rump. War horses were surely not bred for comfort. Wogan began setting up her tent first thing, the comfort of his princess was obviously paramount in his priorities, so Xerro started to set up a fire.

“How long have you been on your own?” She asked, sitting down on a log, she even sat with the grace of an angel. She was, it seemed, most appropriately named.

He struck the flint across the steel file, sending sparks into the tufts of wool that smoldered and eventually caught fire. “I was twelve when the people that raided the wizard's tower freed me, and I have been running from town to town, menial job to degrading job for five years.” He returned, as he began to put larger and larger twigs on the fire.

Her look was now one of genuine concern as she broached her next inquiry carefully, “how long did the wizard have you?”

He closed his eyes, both in an attempt to recall his past and a subconscious desire to avoid seeing it again. But the images of that night were still perfectly clear in his mind. The thugs that entered Orphan Alley snatched up the smaller kids and stuffed them into bags, while the larger ones were clubbed and dragged to the cart. It was little more than a windowless box on wheels with a hitch and a riding board atop. They were unceremoniously dumped inside and the hatch closed. The ominous click of the bar latching sending fear through the dark of the enclosure. “I was four.” He said quietly. “And for the last two or three years I was the last one left in the cages.”

“Eight years!” She gasped. “Eight years in a cage as a lab rat. What kind of inhuman monster could perpetrate such horrors on innocent children for so long?”

“He referred to himself as Kerkakelmak. And he was not human.” He replied, opening his eyes finally, continuing to feed the fire.

“Then what was he, do you know?” She asked in a hushed tone, his tale had been raising the metaphorical hackles on her back.

“I only ever saw a barely humanoid hooded robe, but we never heard his voice in our ears. He seemed to speak directly into our minds. An emotionless deep whisper you couldn't shut out. And while he did to us what he did, I recall the icy touch of black tentacles dragging across our flesh, entering crevasses and orifices as they pleased. And we were powerless to stop them.” He looked in her eyes and could see the fear his tale had wrought. “I apologize, princess. It was not my intention that my tale would cause you a fright. I would hate to have robbed you of your sleep tonight”

Her eyes opened wide and she quickly sat back on her seat, “what? No, I was not frightened. I have heard much worse, I assure you.” She added a nervous chuckle to assuage his concerns. She rose and dusted off her dress, “well I will make something for us to eat. Just because I am a princess, do not believe for a moment that I don't know how to cook. You need food if you are to continue to heal, and I was helping the castle cooks prepare meals shortly after I could walk.” She walked to the war horse and opened the saddle bags.

Angeline looked back to see Xerro had returned to getting the fire somewhat self-sufficient, she then turned her gaze deep into the pouch to find her mind had decided to gift her a quick flash of tentacles leaping out of the darkness at her. She shuddered, brushing off the cold fingers of fear and set back to gathering supplies for supper.

The sun was sinking below the treeline and three were finishing the meal the princess had prepared. Xerro had to admit it was better than he was expecting. It was nowhere near in the league of Patrice's food back at the inn he had just fled, but it was enjoyable. One of those castle cooks had managed to teach her royal highness the trick and virtues of sauces. The lad sopped up the last of the meal with a hard biscuit.

“It was a treasure princess.” Xerro passed his plate back with a compliment.

She took it from him with a curtsey. “You are very welcome Mr. Xerro.” She paused to ponder her words as she walked away and turned back, “surely it was not your parents that named you Xerro.”

“No, it is how Kerkakelmak referred to me. Experiment zero. I have no idea what my parents called me, so I changed a Z to an X and added an R to make it more mine.”

“So he just numbered you all.” Remarked Wogan as Angeline emptied the remainder of what was in the pan onto his plate. “That does sound very detached.”

“Sort of, but I don't believe mine was as much a numeral order as having to do with the experiment.” he said with a shrug.

“He told you what he was doing to you?” the knight asked as he was cleaning his plate.

“Not in so many words. For a being that didn't speak words, he seemed to love to monologue while he was working. I looked into it over the last few years, when I could get a hold of the books.It was something about magical formulas wizards use to magnify power, but in my case the number it is multiplying by is zero.”

“Of course, anything multiplied by zero, is zero.” Replied Angeline with a big smile of comprehension.

“I've worked in several libraries over the course of five years. In just trying to understand my situation, I learned a lot about an art I can never use.”

“We should get some rest,” Wogan said, standing up, “we should reach Adelphi before mid-day.” He took the sack of dishes from the princess, “I'll clean these my lady. There was a stream close by.”

She nodded and began her glide toward her tent, “goodnight gentlemen. Sleep well.”

Xerro watched her disappear into her shelter. Her countenance was so beguiling that Wogan was already fading into the trees by the time he turned to look at the knight. He took a saddle blanket and lay down by the fire.

Angeline curled into her bedroll and gazed at the ring on her finger. The pearl glistened in the light of the lamp in her tent. She rubbed the stone with the fingers of her other hand and it began to glow. The glow drifted up and formed the visage of a regal looking woman.

“Angeline,” The image spoke, “are you safe?”

“Yes mother,” she replied, “but how fair you. I take it the city has not fallen yet?”

“The walls hold, but supplies dwindle.” The queen's image informed her.

“We will reach Adelphi tomorrow. We will find some way to break this seige, I promise, mother. We have already met the most unusual ally.” Angeline tried to sound confident, capable and remove the doubts she knew her mother harbored of her abilities.

“When you reach the Holy City you need to ask for sanctuary.” Her mother said sternly. It was an order, not a request. She wanted her to hide. Her, the crown princess. “Do not risk yourself on some foolish attempt for our sake.”

“I will not abandon you mother, or our kingdom. There is a solution. I will find it. You will see.” She swiped angrily across the pearl once more and the image of her mother disappeared once more. Princess Angeline lay her head on her pillow and eventually, after much deep breathing to calm her ire, drifted into a fitful sleep of dark places and slimy tentacles.

Wogan set up tripwires and bells around the encampment before unrolling his bedroll between the fire and the entrance to the tent of his princess. Across the fire Xerro was sound asleep, still and unmoving in a way that the knight found strangely peaceful.

And inside his head, as every night, Xerro dreamt of the cold and the dark. Images conjured up of the girl in the cage beside him, whose eye out paced the corner of her mouth on its way to the floor as she melted in front of him. Of the boy whose flesh charred and bubbled as he burned from the inside out. The boy whose flesh turned to stone slowly, face frozen in his last silent scream as he became a statue. And the boy that coughed up a torrent of bugs as they swarmed all over him in his cell, devouring his flesh. And over all these images, the sound of the monster that held them captive and did this, laughing pleased as could be in the cold and the dark.