“Don’t worry about it,” Mallory said, taking a seat next to Hector. “It’ll come with time. Just be patient."

“I don’t have much time,” Hector said, downtrodden. “I don’t have much time at all.”

“Don’t be silly,” Helia said, sitting on the other side of him. “You’re thinking about far too many important things to worry about such under-the-table ideas.”

“Really, you think so?” Hector asked, ever so slightly intrigued.

“Of course.” She hooked around his arm. “Just focus on the objective ahead. Get the princess home. Do that, and you won’t even need to think about me and my brother.”

“She’s not a p… princess…” Hector responded, stammering. He turned away in slight embarrassment.

“Not that I care,” Hector added quickly. “It’s just that, she cares, and she might try to correct you if you say that.”

“Of course,” Helia nodded acceptingly. “I’ll take your word for it. I won’t call her a princess for now on.”

“That would be… great.”

Hector cleared his throat.

Jon saw that Mallory was staring intently at both Helia and Hector. His eyes flashed back and forth between them as if he was trying to solve a riddle.

“I mean…” Hector suddenly stood up.

“I should check on the girls!” He declared loudly to no one in particular.

“They already left the building,” Mallory told him.

“They, what?” Hector looked puzzled. “They went upstairs.”

“They probably went off to gather some more information… and gossip,” Mallory explained. “once they knew that the others were safe.”

“Safe?” Hector was even more puzzled. ‘With who?”

“With you!” Mallory exclaimed.

“Oh… that’s…” A small smile started to grow on Hector's face upon hearing that.

His smile suddenly disappeared right after.

“They can’t just run off like that!” Hector declared. “Mallory, can you get ‘em?”

Mallory stood up.

“...You mean just me?” Mallory asked.

“...Bring Jon with you,” Hector added.

“No, I don’t me, just me,” Mallory said. “I meant… without you.”

“Sure,” Hector said.

A grin twitched on Mallory’s face. Jon saw it, but he didn’t think Hector did.

“...I’m gonna leave Jon here,” Mallory said. “To watch your back. I’ll have to girls to back me up.”

“I don’t need… I mean… of course.” Hector gave an assured nod to Mallory. “Be careful.”

“Of course,” Mallory repeated, before calmly moving from the table and leaving out the door.

Hector stared at the door silently for a moment before turning to Jon with a tired glare.

“Alright, Jon,” he said solemnly. “Just us.”

“Just us,” Jon repeated.

He then looked at Helia, who was still hooked on her arm, but her attention was elsewhere.

After, he turned to Stewart, who was looking away as well.

“And them,” Jon added.

“And them.” Hector sighed.

Jon soon saw that both Stewart and Helia were staring in directions opposite of each other, something Hector must have figured out as well.

He raised his hand towards the inn-keeper, who was idling behind his desk.

“Do you have anything to drink that we could share?” Hector asked.

“Like?” The innkeeper replied.

“...Orange juice,” Hector said.

“...Sure.” The innkeeper went behind a nearby door and disappeared behind it.

“...Can you guys try to get along?” Hector asked them.

“We’re getting along quite fine,” Helia said, still not turning to her brother.

Jon was intrigued by the prospect of Hector trying to mediate a dispute, especially one that didn’t directly involve him.

He looked at Jon.

“How did Sabez get Mercy and Tallow to get along?” He asked him.

“They fought,” Jon replied.

“I’ll do that!” Helia finally turned back to her brother, who winced in fear.

“No!” Hector stretched his hand in front of Helia, blocking her view of Stewart. “You guys can’t fight! You aren’t trained!”

“Then it’s fair!” Helia cried. She stood up.

“Then you’ll hurt yourself,” Hector stood up in kind. He grabbed Helia’s shoulders before she could move towards her brother.

“Those two are trained and experienced.” Hector iterated. “It’s not the same.”

“Then teach me!” Helia said to bring her attention back to him. “Train me, so that I can hurt him properly! And teach him too, so that it’ll be fair!”

She tried to rush past him, but he just grabbed her and brought her to where she was in font of him.

She tried again, and he grabbed her and lightly tossed her to her place again so that she landed on her feet.

“It’s not safe to train anyone right now,” Hector told her. “So please… let’s just… talk it out.”

“We don’t need to talk,” Helia said, having calmed down. But still having a closer demenor. She crossed her arms and turned away. “No more talking.”

“...I presume there’s a reason you want us to talk?” Stewart asked, brushing his hair to the side. “For you to make such an effort.

“I need you guys to tell me everything that’s going on,” Hector said. “Give me a board picture. Both of you. Or maybe just one of you. I don’t know. But I would like to have you both tell us so that we’re all on the same page, and that I can update the others when they return.”

“...Shall we at least give him that, Helia?” Stewart asked.

“...Sure,” Helia answered. “But for him. Not for you.”

Both siblings sat across each other at a nearby table just as the innkeeper brought back out a large pitcher of orange juice and a stack of cups. He placed the pitcher in the center of the table, and a cup in font of each person.

“Enjoy!” he said as he wandered back behind the counter.

“Now, let’s drink.” Hector sat back down in his seat.

Helia took her seat next to Hector again.

Stewart returned to his own seat further away between Jon and Hector.

Jon stayed in his seat, as he hadn’t moved.

“...What did you guys do before this?” Hector asked.

“We did exactly what we said we did,” Helia explained.

She angrily pour the orange juice into her cup, a feat Jon didn’t think possible until watching her do it. “We fixed houses.”

“Fixed. Rearranged. Reimagined.” Stewart added. “You know.”

He reached for the pitcher after his sister had set it down and withdrew her hand.

“You know, maybe we could get some ale in this,” Stewart added. “We-”

“No drinking on a mission,” Hector said pointedly, his arms crossed.

“Right, right.” Stewart looked at the bottom of his empty cup as if he were missing an old friend.”. “I suppose with our lives on the line we should stay sober-”

“He shouldn’t be drinking anyway,” Helia said, giving her brother a scowl.

“...I mean, I guess, he could,” Hector added, unsure. “He’s technically not-”

“Waiter!” Stewart raised his arm as he stood up. “Some ale on the pronto!”

He walked over to the counter.

“There his is,” Helia said, pouting. “Always running away. Once you gave him permission… he always does that….”

She looked at Hector. “We did omit some details. Firstly, we lied about the specifics of our job.”

“Sure.” Hector furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t even think I know the specifics of your job anyways.”

“...It was Stewart’s idea,” she explained. “He fabricated this story-”

“I rearranged the true details,” Stewart added as he straddled back to the table with a large mug. “I-”

“Shut up, I was speaking!” Helia told him. Stewart fgae a disgruntled look, but sat down and took a drink of the mug.”

“Stewart takes care of broad designing,” she continued. “Large scale. Walls, Exterior, color palettes.”

“I mean, we share the burden-” Stewart began.

“He gets final say,” Helia said, cutting him off agian. “I work on the finerl details. The tools, the patterns. The sculpting.”

“I share in the small-”

“I get final say?” Helia exclaimed pointing at herself in disbelief. “Because you get to choose all the other god-damned stuff!”

“At least drink something so that you don’t embarrass yourself with this outburst.” Stewart said.

“Shut up and drink your beverage!” she yelled.

“For once this night, I agree!” Stewart tossed back both his head and his drink.

“He also fabricated the story about us being married,” Helia continued, her scroll softening. “All because-”

“You’re not engaged?” Hector asked, clearly confused again.

“Well, actually-” Stewart started.

“One more time,” Helia interrupted, “and I’ll shove that damned drink down your sarcophagus!”

“I’m already on that!” Stewart quickly resumed his chugging.

Hector and Jon made eye contact. Hector looked like he was trying to send a signal for help through his eyes.

Jon grimaced. He didn’t know what to do. In these types of tense situations, he either stayed silent or made his best guess on what to say.

Somehow, Hector seemed to pick up on that. He turned his attention back to Helia and waited for her to resume.

“So, anyways,” Helia smiled and returned to Hector. “We had to hide our identities so that no one could find us.”

“...why would you do that?” Hector asked. “If you weren’t worried about becoming political prisoners for the Sharptooth tribe.”

“...We had gotten that request a while ago,” Helia explained. “But that’s not the only reason we left. Going to the Sharptooth clan was a decision be and my brother were deciding-”

“I decided-”

“Me and brother were still deciding on whether to follow it or not,” Helia continued over her brother, “but to upend our whole life. Well…”

Helia scratched her arm in embarrassment. “I walked out on an engagement.”

Hector choked on the orange juice he was drinking, putting the cup down from his lips and wiping his mouth off.

Some of it got across the table onto Jon, who wiped his face clean with his sleeve. He knew it was an accident.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Hector said. Jon could hace sworn he was trying to hide a smile.

“I know, I know,” Helia responded. “How shameful of it to be running away from a promised engagement. Especially from an aristocrat of fine nature.”

“No way!” Hector said. “Not at all. It’s nonsense! You shouldn’t be forced to get married because of your parents!”

“Our parents died a long time ago,” Helia said. “They didn’t force me.”

“Oh.” Hector withdrew from his zealousness, becoming incredibly quiet. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” Helia said. She reached across the table and snatched Stewart’s cup from his hand.

“I’m cutting you off!” she said. She took her glass of orange juice and poured it into the large mug before shaking it around and taking a huge drink from it.

“Nonsense!” Stewart pounded the table with his fist. “I’ll get more.”

He stood up and walked away.

Hector watched astounded as Helia chugged down her drink, before slamming the mug down and wiping off her face.

“No, no,” she said, resuming from where she left off. “This engagement was very much consensual. Consensual to the fact that if I didn’t do it, me and Stewart could have lost many of our job prospects in the concurrent future.”

She grabbed Hector by the collar of his armor and pulled him close.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered. “Especially Stewart.”

Hector took a quick glance at Jon before retuning his gaze to her.

“Of course not,” Hector replied. “That’s… awful.”

Jon was almost enjoying watching this compassionate Hector.

“No one should hold something like that against you if it’s about marriage,” Hector said. “That’s just as bad as forcing you to do it.”

“I know,” Helia continued, “but me and my brother, as good of a job as we do when we… do our job, we’re still pretty common folk. Our job prospects were limited to a point. Other common folk don’t have the money nor the mind to want to redecorate their homes, and the rich folk wanna only use other established rich folk in order to help. So, we’re limited, and it’s stupid that we want to do something that’s so unnecessary. If we just didn’t do it it would probably be for the better.”

Hector didn’t get to respond as Helia put his hand on her chest plate.

“But it’s our dream.” She continued. “Ever since we were little, and in the orphanage, me and my brother was always drawing castles and buildings and using all sorts of colors and shapes. It was the only thing keeping us from the despair of losing our parents. Our dreams… Then when we got older, we started taking more jobs to help fund all sorts of crazy designs.”

“Uh-huh…” Hector nodded slowly.

“I mean, it sucks, but,” Helia shrugged. “I do what I have to do for my family. He’s the only one I got left. At least until…”

She looked down shamefully.

“But that’s nowhere soon. I still want to go around. I want to try different things. I want to…”

She traced her finger on Hector’s arm.

“...Experiment.”

The color drained from Hector’s face. Jon didn’t know what that meant.

Helia took another drink from the mug before she realized that Hector was just staring at her.

“Do you want some?” she asked, handing the mug to Hector.

“Some… some… mug! Drink!” Hector took himself out of his stupor. “Yeah. I mean…”

“The orange juice helps distill the alcohol,” she said, “so you shouldn’t feel it as much. And unlike my brother, I think you’re a responsible drinker.”

“I…” Jon thought Hector was gonna reject it. He didn’t. He took the cup from her.

“Just a little...” he said. He took a drink.

“...Feel free to have some yourself, Jon,” Hector said, gesturing to him with the cup. ”If I’m breaking protocol…”

Jon frowned.

“Actually…” Hector shook his head. “Don’t. You’re responsible for us. Can you take over for me?”

Jon didn’t get to say “yes” before Hector drank some more of the ale.

“Sorry,” Hector wiped his mouth off and put his attention on Helia. “I…”

His eyes shone brilliantly. “Please, tell me! Where are you from?”

“Where?” Helia was surprised. “What do you mean?”

“What kingdom,” he pressed. “Like… who’s your ruling family?”

“Uh…” Helia put her finger under her chin in thought. “I think… Charles? Lemons?”

“Clemens!” Hector said excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s the one!” Stewart said, sitting down with a large pitcher of ale and putting it suspiciously closer to himself on the table. “The house of Harp Clemens. Really, Helia, you should really pay attention to-”

“I know the Clemons,” Hector continued, speaking as vigorously as ever.

“Lysethia! And Gerald! And their father! Lord George!”

“You speak of the high family so casually,” Stewart said with surprise.

“He’s important, obviously!” Helia said. “Can’t you tell already! Look at his armor! It has its own circulatory mana system, and it’s shiny.”

“Oh, please,” Stewart waved her comment away. “I could make something like that in my sleep.”

“Ignore him,” Helia said.

“I’m not important… but…” Hector looked at Helia firmly in the eyes. “I could talk to them. Maybe tell them to annul whatever bullcrap you’re being forced into. I’m sure they’ll listen and maybe I can even get them to hire-”

“No!” Stewart said, wiping his mouth off of the froth of his ale.

“What?” Helia asked. “It’s not your decision.”

“He’s not taking you back there,” Stewart replied, dropping a pitcher of brown liquid on the table and sloshing some on the table. “No! This is why I didn’t want to get any mercenaries involved. The King’s Guard and the like are more likely to side with the powers that be rather than us lower folk.”

“No!” Hector said, standing up. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me!” Stewart slammed the drink down that he was holding.

Jon was happy with that. He was considering pouring some ale in his own cup just for the sake of having less available.

“There’s talk of the King’s Guard around our parts,” Stewart continued. “All they do is work for the rich and powerful, cleaning up their messes!”

Hector sighed. He cleared his throat before making his point.

“The King’s Guard is meant to prevent any crossing of political lines by powerful nations,” Hector explained. “By acting on their behalf, we allow all of the borders to be open for normal people to walk through and trade and do whatever.”

“If you were really doing it for the common folk,” Stewart continued, “then why do we have to buy your services. Why can’t it be free!”

“...The King’s Guard isn’t supposed to have any alliance with any Kingdom,” Hector continued. “We’re an organization stretched across many borders, but to continue like we do, we have to be self-sustaining. And to be self-sustaining, we need a form of income. My sister works day and night to make sure that our budget is allocated across all of our needs and as succinctly as possible.”

“Succinct enough so you could buy yourself that fancy smancy armor?” Stewart continued, gesturing to Hector with his now full cup.

“You just said you could make it in your sleep!” Helia said.

Hector wasn’t deterred.

“Me and my sister both don’t accept payments for our jobs,” Hector said. “Whatever we do get, goes right back into the guild. For food and shelter and passes and whatever else needs to be taken care of, since we’re well off. Volunteers, like Jon, however, or Genevieve, are allowed to keep what they earn so that they can take care of their families and themselves. As for this…”

Hector pointed to his chest plate.

“My Dad gave this to me,” Hector continued. “He had done a mission before this, and this was among what was left of the loot after they cleared the area. He took it back, but on the way, someone tried to steal it. And… he got hurt pretty badly.”

Hector continued. “My Dad didn't let me wear the armor until he was sure I could fight without it. He had me go on missions, and I had to even compete in a sword-fighting tournament where I was the only one not wearing any.”

“How horrible!” Helia said. “Your father forced you to do that?”

“No,” Hector said. “I just wanted to prove myself to him. I didn’t win, but he did appreciate my zeal, and so he finally let me have it. But I didn’t buy it. And he didn't buy it either.”

Hector sighed. “My father… has been fighting for a very long time. He started from nothing. Just him and his buddies. And he worked so hard cleaning up everybody's messes that he eventually was giving his own land and wealth as thanks for his contribution. He even met my mom… He earned everything he had. And, every day, I struggle to think that I could never achieve half of what he ever did in my entire life. And he made sure to remind me by never allowing me to have anything without fighting for it. He gave me the tools, but never the end result. And now, I feel a bit foolish for thinking that I had everything just handed to me on a silver plate. I understand his teachings now.”

Hector raised his mug. “So, no. I’m not royalty. But I’m not common folk either. I don’t belong to either world. I’m just stuck in the middle… people laughing at me for how posh I am or how lowly they think I act…”

Hector frowned.

Stewart had fallen asleep. He was snoring on the table.

Hector sighed, looking into his cup.

Jon didn’t quite know what to say. He found himself mildly overwhelmed and decided that this at least deserved some type of tempered response from him.

However, Helia had already reached for his hand.

“We can’t always choose the cards that are dealt to us,” Helia said, “but, we can make the most of the hand we have.”

Stewart choked and sat up.

“I heard everything!” he said quickly. “How sad! How quaint! I didn’t know there was such a heavy story behind that heavy armor! But we already decided-”

“Go to sleep, Stewart!” Helia demanded. “You’re already way past the line.”

“Am I?” He turned to Jon. “Am I, Jon?”

Jon didn’t know.

“Can you take my brother to sleep?” Helia asked Jon with a warm smile.

Jon nodded.

“I can-” Hector tried to stand up, but Helia grabbed his hand.

“You can stay down here,” Helia continued. “Keep telling me your ideas. I want to hear them.”

“You want to hear… my ideas?” Hector’s giddy expression turned sharp as he turned to Jon.

“That’s right,” he said. “Jon, since you’re already going up there, can you assign everyone their rooms? I gonna stay-”

“No,” Jon said simply, shaking his head side to side slowly. He disregarded Hector’s stunned expression as he stood up and grabbed Stewart.

Jon pulled Stewart up to his feet and guided him to the stairs.

“He just… told me no… Jon never…”

Don’t worry about him, lad,” Helia said, grabbing onto his arm with both of hers. “Just keep talking.

Jon led Stewart up slowly.

Stewart seemed to be able to at least move forward on his own. Jon just had to make sure Stewart didn’t immediately fall over, which Stewart would almost do when he lost control and almost went into free fall in a single direction, to which Jon had to catch him.

“You know, Jon,” Stewart said, “you seem like an almighty good bloke.”

“...Yep,” Jon said, after deciding if he should answer or not.

“And that Tah-low, chick, you know?” Stewart continued. “I'm sure she’s a mighty fine bloke.”

“Yep,” Jon responded.

“And that Mercy chick… she also seems a mighty nice bloke, doesn’t she, Jon?”

“Yep.”

Jon steadied Stewart as they headed towards a room on the second level.

They traveled to an open door and went in.

There were two beds, each on the other end of the room.

Jon finally let Stewart go as Stewart fell completely onto one of the beds.

“And that Hector bloke…” Stewart continued. “Is a very nice bloke too. I just hope he doesn’t-”

He hiccuped. “Get his heart torn asunder by my sister.”

“Hmm…” Jon couldn’t say.

“She gets her kicks…” Stewart hiccuped again. “Bouncing around different men. And maybe women. I can’t tell yet, but…”

Another hiccup. “I can't tell… watch your bloke, Jon.”

Jon didn't answer.

“Good night, Jon.”

Stewart didn’t say anymore.

“...Good night,” Jon finally said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.