It had been hours since Logan, Roman, and Patton had been left in the tent. Every attempt of trying to leave had been foiled. There were now four soldiers guarding the exit instead of two. General Tafe had come in and lectured them, the three had to try very hard not to show that they knew what Tafe was, a traitor. He had left soon after when someone came in a whispered something to him about Virgil, they hadn't heard much besides the name.

Roman had stopped pacing by now, instead, he had settled down next to Logan and placed his head on the other's shoulder. The General had obviously not noticed how the relationship between the two had advanced since they had left the Light Realm. If he had noticed he would have probably separated the two, most likely would have done something worse, it wasn't an unknown fact that the General was very homophobic. It was just another reason not to like him, and to be concerned for their friend's safety.

Patton was still hyperventilating and pacing, practically in tears with worry. He'd tried so many tactics to get them out of here. Asking nicely, asking sternly, bribery, more asking nicely, lecturing them about how this was bad, and even attempting to just straight-up sprint out of the tent. None of it had worked, and the soldiers had already said, Patton was on their last warning.

"This is pointless," Logan said with defeat, "We have no ideas, nothing worked, and any more failed attempts could result in getting ourselves hurt."

"It's not pointless, saving Virgil isn't pointless."

"Pointless," Roman muttered under his breath.

Logan shook his head, "I never said saving Virgil was pointless, but escaping is pointless."

"Tafe could be doing something terrible to Virgil and we're just sitting here!"

"Pointless," Roman muttered again, brow furrowed in thought.

"Patton, endangering ourselves to protect Virgil may only just put him in more danger."

"But it also might not."

"Are you really willing to take that risk?" Logan asked, "If we get hurt there will be no one to help Virgil, he'll be on his own."

"Pointless."

"Yes Roman, pointless, we've moved on. Please keep up." Logan sighed, tiredly pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, pointless," Roman sat up, "We need something with a point, a sharp point."

Logan and Patton both stared at the prince for a moment before Logan shook his head, "That is literally the opposite of what pointless means, not only that but that definition of pointless is not the one we were using."

"Shut up Bookworm," Roman said as he turned the palm of his hand to face the wizard, "The tent only has one exit," he said in a whisper, "But if we had something sharp, we could cut our way out of here." Roman looked up at Patton, "Do you still have that broken arrowhead?"

"Uhm..." Patton hummed as they reached into their pocket and handing the broken weapon to Roman, "Yup!"

"Perfect," He proclaimed after a quick test to see if the arrow could puncture the cloth and looking at the two with a smile, "I have a plan."

Virgil laid on the ground in absolute agony.

His shirt was in shreds and covered in blood from the dozens of injuries he was now covered in, most of them on his back but there were a good amount elsewhere too. There were gashes, lashes, and cuts all across his skin. He had bruises everywhere from the countless amount of times he had been kicked or hit. Blood was everywhere, soaking into the ground and his clothes, as well as making his skin feel odd, wet, and slightly sticky. The exposed wounds stung whenever touched by anything, several of them were now caked in dirt.

His hands were still bound together. A rough and scratchy piece of cloth had been crudely tied around his head and around his eyes. That way he couldn't see what was going to happen, and wouldn't know until it was too late and already happening. That bit sent terror soaring through him, he didn't know what to expect except pain. Sometimes the general would stop for a few minutes just to get him paranoid (because after the first time he had stopped and Virgil had mistaken it for being finished, he just couldn't get enough of the fear the prince had and Virgil wouldn't allow himself to be tricked again).

His head hurt. Tafe, and whatever magic users he happened to have at his disposal, had forced a potion down his throat that prevented Virgil from using his magic. But more importantly, it prevented Virgil from getting any more visions. Funny seeing how only a couple of hours ago Tafe was forcing dozens of fake ones into him. Now Virgil's head hurt for the opposite reason, his powers were trying to deliver a vision to him but couldn't.

He was pretty sure at least one of his fingers was broken, though it was probably closer to three, maybe even four or five. They had been stomped on a couple of times. His hands were his only mode of communication, he couldn't talk without his hands. Tafe had taken his voice.

Ironically enough Tafe said his voice was the only thing that would stop this. "One word," he had said in a whisper, "One word and this will stop and I'll bring in a healer."

No. No, Virgil couldn't speak.

He didn't like his voice. His voice was scratchy from years of being neglected. His voice was deeper then it was when he had first abandoned it. His voice fluctuated unexpectantly from lack of practice, he didn't like the unexpected. His mutism made him feel safer and more comfortable. Nobody was expecting anything from him. In fact most people thought he was stupid because he wouldn't speak, Virgil had no problem with them thinking he was stupid. He knew he wasn't stupid, the people he cared about knew he wasn't stupid, that was enough for him. Let them be pleasantly (or maybe not depending on the person) surprised to find that he was a prince just as sharp and brilliant as his brother.

Regardless, he liked that he was mute. He liked that he could stay quiet. It meant less noise. It meant less people would try and communicate with him. That was good, Virgil didn't like lots of noise. He didn't always like when people tried to communicate with him. He liked that being mute made it easier to tell who was actually worth it or not, those willing to learn or adapt for him to feel comfortable and safe were worth it. He liked that being mute made things easier for him.

If he stayed quiet, he could leave things in the past.

The last time he had spoken was when he found his father's dead body. Before that it was the day of his mother's death, yelling an incantation that would protect and save his brother as well as himself but kill another in the process.

No, he would not speak. Not for this man. Not to show he could be broken. Not to beg him to stop. Not to plea, or anything of the sort. Not to let this man know that he could win and Virgil could lose. Not to let him know that he was on the edge of giving up. Not for anything. He would not speak. Instead, he endured the pain that was brought down upon him. Sounds of pain would leave him, but no words.

The general was in the middle of another break between painful sessions. Virgil could hear the scratching of a quill against paper. He himself was silent though, Tafe had gotten mad the last time Virgil had made a sound during one of the breaks. Saying that nothing was being done and if Virgil wasn't gonna speak then he had no good reason to make a noise. So, unless Tafe had his knife or whatever other weapons he had used on Virgil in his hands, he remained quiet.

He could vaguely hear the sounds outside the tent. When they had first arrived upon the camp it was loud and boisterous with activity, as it got later the soldiers quieted down and the sounds relaxed. Now, however, yelling had slowly started and Virgil could hear sounds of scared horses and moving soldiers. Virgil flinched slightly when the tent flaps flew open and a young man came crashing into the tent. The general looked up from whatever he was writing on- Virgil's hearing was far from that remarkable, he could tell the man was writing and that was all- and looked up at the young solider with a bored and annoyed expression, "Yes?"

"Uhm..." They seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"Spit it out already," the man barked, both Virgil and the soldier flinched at the harshness of the voice.

"Well, the other prisoners have uhm... escaped? And well, they're kind of attacking us?"

There was a pause, Virgil shifted slightly on the ground as momentary hope passed through him before disappearing just as quickly as it came. The general turned to look at him and as if he could feel the eyes on him he froze. The general looked away before growling out one word, "What?"

As if to answer the question for the soldier a sudden and thundering explosion shook the camp and made Virgil whimper in response, curling up slightly as well. He hated loud noises. "Tha-that must've been the gunpowder," the soldier noted shakily.

"Logan," General Tafe said harshly under his breath as he stood and made his way over to Virgil, "Damn that bastard boy."

The general retrieved another rope from elsewhere in the tent and began tying Virgil's ankles together as well. When Virgil began to whimper and try to struggle away he was quickly demoralized and stopped by the general carving another slash into his skin and growled an order for him to not move. "Pathetic," the general muttered as he then tied his feet before grabbing Virgil by his face and lifted him off the ground slightly, "Make any attempt at escaping and I kill one of them. Those three are as pitiful and feeble as you are and their endeavor at rescuing you will quickly be squashed. If you so much as move while I am gone I will have your foot removed, Ira doesn't need that for your magic. Is that understood?" Virgil nodded and with another growl he was dropped back to the ground before Tafe followed the young soldier out to the rest of the camp, leaving Virgil alone.

Virgil laid there, trying to figure out what was going on through his sense of hearing alone. He took a shaky deep breath as he focused on the sounds of panicked yells, trying to dissect and separate each voice from another and hear the words escaping their mouths. It was hard to interpret it all correctly, the act only worsened his already throbbing headache which in turn made it more difficult to focus and decipher.

It didn't take him more than five minutes to give up on the act. Instead, he let his exhausted and torn body go limp on the ground and did his best to relax. Maybe he could just fall asleep? If he fell asleep, was he going to be rudely awakened with another blade dragging across his skin? At least if he fell asleep the general couldn't accuse him of trying to escape, he'd have no excuse to chop off his foot. Plus, he dreadfully needed some rest. He was battered, bleeding, and injured, if scars were what the general wanted then he'd accomplished his goal. Some of these marks would never truly be gone, no matter how he healed. His magic had been messed with to such an extent that that alone could've been enough of a reason to get some rest, he probably woldn't be performing magic for a couple days.

It took thirty minutes for Logan and Patton to have the camp's complete attention, including a very angry General. Much longer than they had planned on taking and much longer than they had thought they would last. Regardless, Roman was finally clear to rescue Virgil and get him out of here.

The prince double-checked to make sure that the camp was still fully distracted before sneaking into the farthest tent. The one belonging to Tafe and the one they had seen Virgil getting dragged into hours ago. He sighed slightly with relief when nobody spotted him before turning to look around the tent for the other prince.

The tent was larger than the one he and the others had been placed in but smaller than the ones the soldiers slept in. Several lanterns had been lit and hung around the area, creating dancing shadows in the orange-lit tent. A desk had been placed in the center of the room and was just about spilling over with items, a chair on one side of it, and a small area of workspace taken up by a half-written letter. A chest sat on the end of a cot, probably full of clothes or something similar. And there in the center of the cloth room was a very bloody prince, limbs tied harshly together and a blindfold around his head.

"Virgil!" Roman was barely able to keep himself from yelling the name as he sprinted to the other and quickly dropped to his knees in front of him. "Oh my..." he trailed off. Virgil's shirt was in shreds and covered with blood, a multitude of sickening injuries covered his back and chest. There were bruises across his body and his fingers were bent in odd angles. He was unresponsive but Roman sighed with relief when he saw the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, he was alive.

Roman used a knife that had been found on the messy desk to cut Virgil loose, he tried not to think about the possibility that the knife had been used on the other, and carefully slid the blindfold off him. Roman muttered under his breath anxiously as he looked the other over one last time, as if looking at the boy's injuries was going to help at all. Virgil momentarily blinked his eyes open and looked up at Roman with slight confusion, a whimper leaving him at the small movement. Roman looked down at him, suddenly a little more alert, "Hey buddy," Roman said softly to the other as he carefully pushed the other's blood-stained hair out of his eyes, "It's me, it's Roman. We're gonna get you out of here okay?"

Virgil only nodded weakly before his eyes closed again and Roman assumed it to mean he had passed out again. Roman took a deep breath before slipping his arms underneath the other's legs and, unfortunately, back and carefully picked him up. It was a little bit of an awkward action seeing as the two were practically the same height, but completely doable with Virgil being much thinner and lighter than Roman was. Virgil hissed and whimpered in pain, brow creasing, as he tried to bury his head into Roman to suppress the sounds from escaping. "You're alright, it's alright." Roman whispered to him as he tried to make his way to the tent flap, "I promise okay? We'll get you all fixed up and you'll be good as new."

Again, Virgil only nodded at what was being said. He was barely lucid and could barely understand what was going on. What he did understand was that he was hurt and Roman was his friend, he could trust Roman.

He also seemed to understand, however, that Roman was also trying to leave the tent, and that he was without his bag or sword. Virgil began to wiggle and struggle in the other's hold, every movement hurt and sent a noise of pain out of him. "It's okay. What's wrong, does it hurt holding you like this?" Virgil shook his head- though yes, holding him like this did hurt- and somehow managed to raise one of his hands to point at where he thought the table was, where his stuff had been thrown. Roman followed his finger before gasping with realization and quickly approaching the messy desk.

He looked it over, eyes momentarily landing on Virgil's things before continuing to look over the desk. It was covered with books, quills, ink jars, and papers with odd lines and shapes on them. Maps. He realized after a moment or two, the papers were maps. "Hey Ann, I'm gonna set you down for a moment okay? It's just for a moment, I'm right here, I'm not leaving you." he told the other as he carefully placed him on the chair.

First he grabbed Virgil's satchel and stuffed it full with as many papers and maps as he could, proof they could send to his parents for later. After that he placed the bag around his shoulders and grabbed Virgil's sheathed sword off the ground, handing it to the other carefully, "You're gonna have to hold your own sword, can you do that?" Virgil nodded and clutched it tightly to his chest as if afraid that someone would try and take it again.

Finally, and only after mulling it over a couple of times, he grabbed the general's wool cloak and wrapped it around Virgil. It was very very large on him and seemed to act more like a blanket than a cloak but neither of them cared about that. It would protect Virgil from the cold, his lack of upper-body garments would do little to fight it off on their own, and hopefully hide him enough so they wouldn't be questioned if caught. Roman once again carefully lifted Virgil and made his way out of the tent, nothing stopping him this time.

He made sure the camp was still distracted before trying to make his way across it towards where he and the others had promised to meet. Virgil tugged slightly on Roman's shirt to get his attention and Roman looked down at him. The wizard attempted to sign something to him but with his fingers in their current state it was very difficult and he ended up trying something else. Instead, he placed one of his non-broken fingers on Roman's chest and began to trace letters onto him. 'L-O-G-'

"Logan's causing a distraction," Roman told him in a hushed whisper when he figured out what he was doing.

'P-A-'

"They're trying to get us a couple of horses to escape on, maybe even some of our stuff? We're not hopeful though, if we're lucky he'll get be able to get two or three. You're in no state to ride alone anyways though."

'T-A-F-'

"Logan's keeping him busy."

Virgil furrowed his brow slightly, Roman didn't sound worried. 'H-U-R-T'

"I know, you'll be fine though" Roman said, misunderstanding who in question Virgil meant, "Try and rest okay?"

'L-O' Virgil paused for a moment 'H-U-R-T'

Roman looked down at him for a moment, suddenly realizing what he really meant before looking back up and sneaking around a couple of large crates, "Logan's gonna be fine, he won't get hurt."

'T-A' he paused, 'H-U-R-T' another pause 'L-O'

"No," Roman insisted, though it sounded more forceful and hopeful than it did confident, "Tafe won't hurt Logan, that's why we chose him to cause the distraction." They were at the end of the camp now, Roman was looking around for something before finally deciding on a direction and heading into the trees. The forest was dark and the farther he got from the camp the less light there was to see with until all that was left was the dull shine of the moon.