Chapter Text
Heat, but not of the pleasant kind. It’s an uncomfortable one generated from emotion alone that makes a person feel woozy and unwell; it travels through each and every vein—grasping, squeezing, restraining. His chest feels incredibly tight and suddenly, he no longer remembers how to breathe. In quick succession a series of other discomforts occur: his vision blurs in and out, his voice goes hoarse, and his hearing worsens to a high-pitched yet quiet whistle.
The arms restraining his body tighten around him, holding back all attempts to struggle; it’s an iron grip he simply can’t escape from. His own fingers, trembling from emotion, extend outward towards a light in the distance—the last light he’d see as a free man.
A world, his world, crashes down all around him.
“Please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Don’t take me away from her. From them. They need me, especially now. I swear I won’t say a thing. I—”
A fist hits him so hard in the gut he gasps out the air once in his lungs. Joining the anxious heat is now a different kind of the searing variety. And just like that, he can no longer form entirely coherent thoughts, the bits all jumbled up like trying to fit pieces of an old destroyed puzzle back together even though the edges don’t quite line up anymore.
“Please, she’s… really sick…” He can feel the desperation gripping him, twisting his voice even further as his eyes line with glistening, damp frustration. “She’s going to… She’s going… to…”
A choked whimper slips past his lips as reality abruptly (thankfully) interrupts his nightmare. The morning sun is pleasantly warm but also kind of a jerk, attempting to, and succeeding to, awaken him from Dreamland. It’s such a sudden transition he finds himself in a daze and unable to stave off the drowsiness still gripping him.
Amber eyes blink a few times, gaze cast blankly at the ceiling, before each hand comes up to scrub at them. Another bad dream. They’ve been occurring more frequently lately. It seems the more time goes by the more his heart feels lost. He’s been trapped here for so long now it feels like an eternity. Which, for a human, a species whose life is so short, it kind of was.
Gradually, the brunet drags his body into an upright position. How many more nightmares would his brain decide to form about his predicament? How much longer could he put up with this? When would his life begin again? The usual assortment of questions after such dreams plagues him, weighing on every fiber of his being.
His legs swing over the side of his old and creaky bed, feet touching the ground tenderly as a hand runs down over his face next. Between paused splayed fingers he peeks out at the pictures lining his nightstand.
“Good morning, Tomoe,” he says first, bringing up his left hand instead to kiss the wedding band planted on a finger, eyes shut. A melancholy sigh escapes him. And then, after some seconds pass, he flicks them back open, the irises seeming to warm ever so slightly at the little girl sporting a smile in another of the photos. “Good morning, Kaede.”
It’s truly not the greatest start to his day, covered in sweat and knee-deep in the shit he finds himself living in, but at this point he’s grateful to even still be waking up. Coming back into consciousness each day meant he still had a chance. Someday, he could keep his promise to Tomoe. That was one of the only things keeping him going, granting him the slightest sliver of optimism he so desperately needed to make it through the slowly passing time.
“Well, you’d better figure out what to do today, Kotetsu.”
Long, lean limbs lift the form belonging to them up and out of the tiny bedroom they’d been occupying. A somewhat loud yawn escapes him as he makes his way over to his equally small kitchen, clumsy fingers gathering what he needs to make some much needed morning pick-me-up. That’s right. First, coffee. Then he’ll figure out his plans for the day.
That is… if he can even think of anything productive to do.
It wasn’t unusual for his nightmares to leave him dragging his feet after so suddenly awakening from them, a deeply disturbed and uncomfortable feeling lingering in his gut long after consciousness decided to make a reappearance. But today? Today was different somehow. Today he’s feeling even more fatigued than usual, which he simply, perhaps incorrectly, chalks up to his lack of good sleep catching up to him.
Sure, of course. That’s definitely all it is.
After finally crafting some “lifeblood” to revive himself, the brunet makes his way over to a windowsill, mug in hand and button-up shirt draped over his shoulders and a thinner undershirt. It was a warm and sunny day outside, the perfect weather for picnics and jogs—but it wasn’t like he could enjoy either of those. The metal bars, among other things, made certain of that.
Kotetsu T. Kaburagi: 5’11” tall, 36-years-old in exactly three days—and prisoner for the last six years under orders of the king himself. Death had been too easy of a punishment. His Majesty wanted the once bold and helpful civilian of his claimed kingdom to suffer as much as possible. Who knew that monarchs could be so cruel and calculating? Certainly not Kotetsu. Of couuurse not.
But what crime did this punishment serve, you ask? Simply that he knew the truth, the truth of the so-called “claimed” kingdom and that it was actually… stolen. Because the reason he held so much of King Maverick’s hatred, the reason he found himself living out the rest of his days locked up in a tower far away instead of with his beloved daughter, was that Kotetsu had witnessed a confession of the greatest betrayal of all.
King Maverick was a murderer, and his victims?
The former royal family over twenty years ago now.
Cocky, arrogant bastards always slip up eventually, but Kotetsu only wished he wasn’t the one to overhear it given his current situation.
Stories circulated around the Kingdom of Insomnia all the way to his little corner, of the previous king and queen’s demise, yet none of them spoke the reality that Kotetsu knew so vividly. Albert Maverick, the current ruler, took their lives in a fit of rage. He still remembers the conversation he’d accidentally stumbled upon like it was yesterday. It was, after all, what turned his entire world upside down in an instant.
Through the obscured patio in the capital city he saw two men, one the king himself and the other a mysterious blond from behind, curled shoulder-length locks still imprinted into his mind. What he’d heard was a bold declaration of the events leading up to the former king and queen’s murders, Maverick wickedly gleaming as he seemed to be rubbing it into the face of the man across from him. Anger ignited, only to be shut down into unconsciousness by a single touch. How scary that a man capable of that kind of cruelty possessed such a powerful supernatural ability.
His thoughts and the songs of birds, melodious harmonies somehow perfectly connecting in spite of the many different kinds, distract him enough he almost doesn’t hear the knock at his door. Kotetsu perks up and cranes his head towards the slab locked tight from the outside, namesake-suiting eyes hyper focused on it like a tiger ready to pounce as the heavy bolts click and slide.
“Hey, Kaburagi! You awake? I’m coming in, so you’d better be decent.”
Oh. This guy. For each of the prisoners in these special cells, an assigned guard would check up on them daily. Kotetsu wishes he could say it was out of worry for the well-being of those here. Alas, it was for far more nefarious reasons. King Maverick wasn’t an idiot; backstabbing your former friends and murdering them often leads a person to develop a certain level of paranoia. Smart paranoia. He couldn’t have any of his captives escaping, now could he?
Luckily for Kotetsu, he himself was a pretty agreeable guy when he wanted to be—which meant he had managed to win over his latest guard’s (hesitant) acquaintanceship just like the last several. And that meant he had a link to the outside world.
“Well, Emanuel, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s 8AM and I’m in the middle of doing my usual naked stroll around the tower.”
“Funny.”
The guard in question rolls his eyes overdramatically and slams the door shut behind him, bringing two heavy bags hauled over his shoulders deeper inside before dropping them. The two consecutive thunks, one louder than the other, gives Kotetsu an idea of what is inside this round before the words even exit the other man’s lips.
“Brought you the things you requested. Bag on the left is food. Bag on the right has new art materials, books and clothes.”
A smirk lifts Kotetsu’s features. “Aww, for me? You shouldn’t have.”
“No, I shouldn’t have,” the guard snaps, deflating Kotetsu’s joking demeanor before it has a chance to pick up off the ground again. Could it kill the guy to have a sense of humor? “I could get fired—or worse—for doing you any favors. I’m only supposed to bring you the basics, not entertainment like books or art materials.”
“Geez, way to be a buzzkill.”
“Part of the job.”
“Maybe don’t be so good at it for, I dunno, five minutes?”
Emanuel scoffs and his eyes roll, hands moving to his hips as he takes a look around the inside of the tower immediately after. Bottles are scattered throughout, no doubt once containing bottom of the barrel wine and other liquor; the sink is filled with dirty dishes, some still glazed over with bits of food; and random articles of clothing hang over various pieces of furniture from chairs to tables.
“Subtly is a thing, you know. Don’t you ever clean? Imagine if I was a jerk and reported back to His Majesty that you were somehow getting things like books, pencils… and alcohol. I won’t—he’d have both our heads.”
“As a matter of fact,” Kotetsu grumbles, displeased with the judgment, “I do. I do clean.”
“Uhuh,” the guard retorts, voice lined with disbelief. He kicks over a glass bottle near his feet, the little tink sound somewhat loud but not an indicator of breakage. “Anyway, I’ll be off. I’ve got five more prisoners to visit and a cart full of their stuff too.”
The older man turns and heads back towards the tower door without another word, and Kotetsu’s amber eyes follow him much the way a cat’s would as they long to follow after their person who disappears to work each morning. He supposes, in a way, he can absolutely relate to that. Each time a guard entered here he felt a brief moment of euphoria, the presence of another human being filling a void he’d long developed, only to have it ripped away as quickly as it came once they went back through the door.
Loneliness. That’s gotta be the right word to describe the feeling. One can get awfully lonely being stranded in the middle of nowhere, locked up in some random old tower so high off the ground you can’t even have a conversation with most visiting wildlife. Nevermind the other prisoners, whose towers are so enchanted they can’t hear a word he says anyway. Not that birds weren’t quite talkative. It’s just, well, Kotetsu’s not exactly fluent in Blue Jay or Chickadee.
Fluency… Languages…
Ah!
As the door swings open and Emanuel steps towards the ladder down, it dawns on Kotetsu one more favor he desperately wants to lay claim to. He jumps to his feet, startling the guard enough he stops short and reaches for his sword, only to have a stumbling Kotetsu—nearly tripping over a bottle and a dirty old shirt—kneeling suddenly with his head down and calloused fingers holding out… a letter.
“What?”
“Please.” Kotetsu’s voice halts a moment, emphasis in his next words. “For Kaede.”
“Oh, for the love of—!” A hand slaps to Emanuel’s face and he drags it down with a grumble once his brain processes the request aimed at him. “I nearly slit your throat, you bumbling fool.”
“I almost forgot. I didn’t want you to leave without it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood—”
“My birthday’s in a few days. Could you please do this for me? It’s the best present I could ever get.”
The guard is met with the world’s best set of puppy eyes, practiced and utterly pathetic, which only fuels his irritation. However, being that he does thankfully have some humanity in him, Emanuel begrudgingly takes the letter swiftly and tucks it away. “Bah! As if you or anyone deserve anything for simply being born. Besides, I do this for you regardless of the time of year. You’re lucky I don’t entirely hate you.”
A twinkle forms in Kotetsu’s irises next as his hands come together palm to palm. Hook, line, and sinker! Nobody with even half a heart can resist. Luckily for Kotetsu, this guy had at least that. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me regret it.” An exaggerated wave accompanies Emanuel’s words, and he sighs heavily before continuing his descent back down. “I’ll bring the reply as always.”
The heavy slam of his tower door makes Kotetsu flinch even now. It’s yet another harsh reminder that no matter what glimpses of the outside world he’s awarded, from nature past his window to the occasional visit from another living human being inside, his situation is absolutely, positively…
Hopeless.
*******
Not far from the hidden towers prisoners like Kotetsu reside in, a collection of voices quietly chatter, a plot containing their next moves forming. In spite of their group’s size, the many surrounding trees and shrubs help to keep their conversation private, a welcome fact considering what exactly they were discussing.
Groups like theirs had to be extra careful given their more nefarious activities that could get them into a similar situation of being locked up for years if not outright executed. Granted, many of the more common folk were fans. After all, this particular group wasn’t merely being selfish in their endeavors. It was why they’d earned their collective title, seen as an honor by the very people who’d started calling them it.
“I’m telling you that doesn’t make any sense! If we all go then what will we do if we need a quick escape?”
“Well, we’re a clever bunch! We can fight and fight some more!”
“No, no, no. She has a point, Sky. That won’t do. Dames like Rose and I must look stylish and elegant. How can we do that if we’re scrambling to escape with no back-up plan?”
“Can’t Bison go in first? He’d be a good shield and I can jump up his shoulders and shock ‘em!”
“Hey! I didn’t agree to being a damn shield, Kid! Tell them all they’re way off, Origami!”
“Well, uhh, let’s not be rash. I’m sure we can figure this out with a bit more time.”
To the side of the conversation turning to bickering, two blonds lean against particularly large tree trunks. One, with wavy curls neatly styled just above the shoulders, keeps his eyes shut behind plain frames and appears completely calm. The other, with straighter styled strands, is grinning from ear to ear, seeming to find amusement in the group’s inability to make a firm decision.
The second of the two starts laughing somewhat abruptly right after the group’s voices begin to blend together from their constant chatter and attempts to override each other now. It’s loud enough to startle them out of their little argument. And also, frankly, loud enough to instill worry about their location being pinpointed.
“What the hell, Ryan? Are you trying to get us caught?” The petite and icy young woman of the lot whips her arms into a tight fold across her chest, eyes narrowing. “These woods are crawling with knights and guards. What’s so funny?”
The chortling blond calms himself down enough he can muster a response. “Nothing. Just remembering why I decided to shack up with you guys is all. You’re quite the entertainers.”
“Oh, be quiet, you! Can’t you see we’re trying to discuss our next moves? We can’t exactly waltz into the castle, hold out a hand, and say, ‘Hand over the prince’s crown, Your Majesty.’”
“Why not?”
“Excuse me?!”
“Easy, Rose.” The calm and mature tone of one of the oldest members of their group goes soothing as the owner lifts one of their hands and places it against her shoulder. “I understand you and Ryan don’t exactly get along, but you made a point. We don’t want to draw unnecessary attention.”
In spite of her irritability, she instead turns her head away in an upturned sulk. “Hmph!”
Silence falls over the vibrant mix of individuals for a moment before the largest and bulkiest of the group turns his focus to the one who caused a ruckus. He sighs somewhat, folding his own arms in a more laidback manner. “What do you mean by that, huh? ‘Why not?’ That’s a dumb question with an obvious answer.”
“Ehhh, I dunno. There are no stupid questions, right? Anywho, what I mean is I think we’d pull it off if it’s just the two of us and you guys wait in the wings.” The man, Ryan, turns his attention to the one standing by his side, grinning from ear to ear. “Right, Junior?”
The purr of a question draws the focus of the rest of the group towards the individual he’s addressing, a mix of expressions lining their faces immediately. Needless to say, the cocky assertion hasn’t helped improve their already somewhat sour moods.
“Oh, yeah, Barnaby’s been pretty quiet this whole time,” the hushed whisper of the smallest and youngest of the group, codename Dragon Kid, speaks up.
“Isn’t he usually like this?” An equally quiet response meets hers from the one known as Origami Cyclone among them. “He’s the type to quietly calculate his next moves.”
“Hey, come on,” Ryan’s voice picks up again. “Don’t leave me hanging!”
One swift slap to the quietest of the group’s shoulder seems to spark a very different reaction out of him. Barnaby suddenly flicks his gaze to Ryan, eyebrows furrowing as his hands drop to his hips, his tone reeking of someone who’s been holding back a bit too long. And maybe he has, considering the state of their group.
“Do you mind?”
“Ohhh, there we go, Junior. Welcome back. Thought you’d decided we weren’t worth talking to anymore.”
“You aren’t. I was trying to meditate and then all of you started yapping like a pack of dogs let off the leash.”
Variations of “Hey!” echo immediately following his jab like an assembly line, offense dripping in each shout. Needless to say, in spite of their group’s seemingly united name—they weren’t exactly friends. Rivals brought together by circumstance and necessity was a much more accurate descriptor.
“Geez, Handsome, your coldness just brings up the heat more, if you catch my drift,” the pink-haired member Fire Emblem purrs, causing the blond girl next to them, codename Blue Rose, to roll her eyes and groan at the blunt flirting.
“I really don’t see what you or anyone else sees in him…” she grumbles, arms remaining crossed.
Amongst the crew, the short-haired and tiny powerhouse Dragon Kid steps into the middle in an attempt to refocus their efforts. “So then, what is our plan?” She gestures to a piece of paper in hand, a map of the surrounding area. It was easy enough to get lost in such a vast forest if one wasn’t careful, so it was necessity. ”Don’t think we got much, y’know, actual planning done.”
Each and every person quietly peers at the presented article before Barnaby ultimately sighs. The next words that exit his lips cause a very-much in-sync gasp. “I, begrudgingly, agree with Ryan… to an extent.”
“Huh?!”
The tall and lean bespeckled blond adjusts the glasses lining his cheekbones as if what he’d said was the most obvious thing in the entire world. Still, he seems to feel the need to present his case considering the reactions he’d received. Barnaby steps into the circle, requesting the map with a single hand gesture. Kid happily obliges.
“I’m the best candidate for this particular job. I’ve got the most experience with this type of heist and my talents are good for quick escapes,” he begins, pointing to certain areas on the map they’ve circled. “Besides, if all of us go in we risk exposing the organization as a whole once caught. We can’t do that.”
“Well, you do make a point,” Fire Emblem notes, tapping a finger to their chin delicately, “since you’re the strongest and fastest among us with that ability of yours.”
“Yeah, but Barnaby is always the damn default. When are the rest of us gonna get our chance to shine?” The largest of the group, Rock Bison, practically pumps a fist into the air. “I’ve got a great ability for escapes!”
“Right and right again!” From the rest, the man known as Sky High joins him in his triumphant gesture. “I’ve also got an excellent one for escaping quickly!”
The motions almost cause bickering to begin again—the key word here being almost. Ryan’s laughter escapes into the air once more, dragging everyone’s attention right back to where it should be.
“Guys, guys. We all have some pretty cool unique traits about us that come in handy for escaping, but you heard Barnaby. He’s the best for this job overall…” He pauses, a grin as wide as can be spreading across his features. “…with me as his right hand man, of course.”
Barnaby practically gapes as Ryan slinks an arm over his shoulder. “I didn’t say that second part—”
“Now can we all just agree to disagree and get this over with? We’ve got a deadline for making it back to headquarters and we don’t wanna leave the big guys waiting, do we?”
Silence momentarily takes over the space before each other member of the group begins to either shrug or nod, leaving Ryan to proudly puff his chest by Barnaby’s side, the latter of which is left sighing. Taking quick notice of his less-than-stellar reaction, Ryan leans in closer and whispers by the other male’s ear.
“Look at it this way, Junior. I’ll just be your backup in case anything goes wrong. Safety in numbers is the entire point of our group, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like the idea of someone else being there,” Barnaby growls back quietly. “You’re only going to get in my way.”
“And if you end up needing me?”
“I won’t.”
“But if you do? All you gotta do is holler. I’ll be close-by.”
Yet another long and vocal breath of air slips past the green-eyed male’s lips. He does see Ryan’s point. Truly, no matter how skilled or capable any single one of them are, the entire reason they even joined forces in the first place was for the purpose of safety in numbers. Ever since King Maverick has been on the rampage, their organization responded with being adamant about members sticking together during jobs. They weren’t King Maverick’s favorite people ultimately.
However, that being said, this particular part of the job wasn’t exactly the kind where they’d have a minimal margin of error. It was a simple one of interrogation and information gathering, which meant if they played their cards right they did, technically, truly need just one person. In and out then off they go to the next part.
“Fine,” the word seems almost dragged out as Barnaby accepts the reality of the situation. “But if you get in my way even once, I’m leaving you behind.”
Off he goes, tucking the map into a pocket in case any particular area doesn’t ring a bell of familiarity. Ryan, meanwhile, practically beams, walking off after him with his hands tucked behind his head and a bubbly, laidback air about him in spite of their mission here and the open hostility Barnaby displays towards him.
“Ouch, Junior. Good to know you’ve got my back too.”
The rest of their crew lingers behind, eyes cast over at the two as they disappear deeper into the woods. They don’t even need to voice their concerns aloud for the collective group as a whole to get what’s bouncing around in their minds. Those two? Together? Doing a job?
Yikes.
*******
It’s after a great deal of walking—too much walking if he’s being honest; they’ve been at it for an hour now and have easily gotten far enough away from the group that an emergency rescue is out of the question—the two men arrive in a denser part of the forest. Thick old trees tower high, overgrowth of various shrubs covering the bases. Scattered among them are wildflowers, from the thorny vines of roses to the dainty stems of daisies. It was a genuinely gorgeous sight.
However, Barnaby doesn’t really have the motivation to appreciate the greenery. During their trek alone, Ryan has gone from a quiet spectator to a loud participant, complaining about every little thing, from the way the roots of certain trees stick up so high one could easily trip to the abundance of animals startling him into thinking they’re being followed. Barnaby is more than done with it.
By the time the other blond pauses and leans on a tree, he barely gets the utter of another complaint from his mouth before Barnaby is going off on him.
“This would be soooo much faster if we had horses—”
“For the love of God, will you shut up? You’re so worried we’re being followed, yet you don’t even know the meaning of subtly with all your whining!”
Ryan’s eyes widen a bit, clearly taken aback, before his posture deflates and he lifts a hand. “Hey, come on, Barnaby. Don’t be like that. I get talkative when I’m nervous. You know that.”
Oh. Although he does notice the shift in Ryan’s body language and tone, what stands out the most is the usage of his given name. Barnaby sighs softly. That’s right. They’re literally waltzing into a lion’s den here (a village closely under King Maverick’s watch), so it’s only natural even an outwardly cocky guy like Ryan would feel the sting of nerves.
Barnaby gets it. Really. This isn’t ideal, sneaking around in a forest so close to the kingdom when Maverick himself has been on the warpath, but they have no other choice. Being apart of the greater organization meant they had certain responsibilities. Regarding those responsibilities, they were often the best fitted to accomplish them with their less-than-natural capabilities compared to most people. It’s why their group was always sent out together into the most risky situations.
“Right. Well, I don’t mean to snap, just tone it down a bit,” he quietly and much more calmly utters this time. “We need to focus. This is a danger zone even if this part of the job is quick and easy.”
Although it’s not a direct apology, it’ll have to do. Luckily, Ryan seems fine with it as he perks back up. “Alright, alright. I gotcha. But seriously, we should really find some horses. And by find I mean ‘borrow’ like we do so well.”
As if the universe has a sense of humor, the clomping of hooves catches their joined attention all of a sudden, causing each of them to duck abruptly behind a single large trunk. In their obscured view, two men on horseback slow to a halt in a clearing before dismounting their steeds. From their matching fancy uniforms it becomes quickly clear who they are and who they work for. Perfect.
“You were saying?” Barnaby asks in a hush, smirking somewhat wickedly.
“Let’s get us some horses,” Ryan whispers back, grinning wide enough his teeth gleam in the trickles of sunlight illuminating their space.
In spite of their group’s constant inability to get along for long, they were an impressive collection of individuals. After all, aside from their more “unusual capabilities,” all that extra training over the years wasn’t simply meant to impress random ladies and gentlemen at a party. It only takes a single minute for Barnaby and Ryan to sneak up on each of the men as they finish taking a piss and incapacitate them, leaving their slumped over bodies unconscious by some shrubs.
“Woohoo! That was easy. And they call themselves King’s Guard. Pa-leeease.”
“They won’t be out forever. Let’s get on the horses and go.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Now this was far better than stumbling through the woods on foot like a couple of rats. At least now they had a quick and easy escape should they run into the wrong people, one that didn’t require them to exhaust said “unusual capabilities” and flag their presence to the entirety of Maverick’s army. They gallop through the winding pathways with a renewed determination to accomplish their mission, focus on the destination highlighted on the map when…
Barnaby notices something out of the corner of his eye.
In fact, he notices a very strange something.
Tugging on the reigns of his horse, he turns his head towards several structures in the distance, stuck between intrigue and confusion. What in the world? Towers? That is what those were, right? His vision wasn’t the greatest, thus the need for glasses, but he’s certain he’s not hallucinating or seeing them wrong.
“Junior! What are you doing?” The clomping of Ryan’s own horse makes its way to his side from ahead, the other blond tipping his head with knitted brows. “I tried to say something to you and you weren’t there. Why the pit stop?”
Barnaby squints somewhat before lifting a hand to point. “You don’t see those?”
The other man’s gaze follows his finger, but ultimately he shakes his head. “See what?” Barnaby doesn’t get a chance to respond again before Ryan’s expression is turning sympathetic. “Man, I told you you needed more sleep than you get. Now you’re seeing things.”
Confusion quickly spirals to offense. “I am not!” Barnaby gasps out, instead giving Ryan a harsh glare. “They’re clearly right there!”
“What is?”
“Towers! Several of them. Brick and mortar and about six, no, seven stories high if I had to guess.”
The golden-eyed male’s eyebrows only furrow deeper as he looks from Barnaby to the spot he’d pointed out again and then back. He shakes his head and shrugs, adjusting his horse to point towards the pathway they’d been set on before. The audacity of it warps Barnaby’s own expression into one of complete and total displeasure.
“Well, if you’re not full of shit—”
“I’m not!”
“—then it’s gotta be a masking spell of some kind, right? Which means we should probably leave it alone and get back on track.”
Although he’s not exactly feeling friendly in the moment, Barnaby can’t help recognizing the very good point Ryan has just made. Among those in his servitude, King Maverick had, albeit forcefully, employed many individuals of the magical variety. Witches from every corner of the land were often called upon to complete certain tasks for the wicked monarch who seated himself on the former royal family’s throne.
So this, this could very well be the work of one of said witches. That didn’t explain why Barnaby was able to see right through it though. He did have some supernatural attributes of his own, but nothing that allowed him to specifically see through masking spells. If anything, he’d need some sort of charm or cursed item to allow him that sort of power. Then why? Why could he?
And more importantly, why did he feel the pull of something suddenly? It was almost like a whisper on the wind, beckoning him the way a siren would before dragging a sailor to his death. It’s in that moment he decides, probably foolishly, he must absolutely find out what’s inside those towers no matter what.
“You coming?”
Ryan’s voice drags his wandering thoughts back, and Barnaby finds himself whipping his head to the other man with a hesistance behind his eyes. “No, you go. It’s just the information lead part of the job anyway and not the actual heist yet. Nothing you can’t handle on your own. We’ll meet up later.”
At first Ryan simply blinks a few times fast, looking even more baffled than before, but he’s quick to shrug again, unwilling to put up much of a fight. “Alright,” he mumbles. “Suits me. I’ll get all the credit. But what are you gonna do?”
Green irises dart towards the distant structures and fixate on them, unmoving. “I’m going to find out what the deal is behind those towers,” their owner boldly asserts.
A heavy, exaggerated sigh fills the air followed by the sounds of a horse’s own huffs and puffs of annoyance. “You just always got to be a hero looking for a damsel in distress, don’t you? You can never merely stick to the plan. So much for backup if the guards show up.” Ryan gives a little wave, cheeks perking into a smile. “Good luck.”
Left alone in a matter of moments, the clomping of hooves fading into the distance, Barnaby begins to make his way towards the tall structures, quickly noticing that his own horse is growing wearer by the second. He gives her a gentle pat and rub on the neck, not once looking away from the path forward. A specific sound tickling his ears grows louder, bringing him to the realization that he was actually hearing a voice beckoning him, though its words are inaudible utters in a language he doesn’t know.
As they venture deeper, get closer and closer to the structures, the voice’s intensity picks up, and his mind wanders to a particular recurring nightmare he’s had over the years. It’s a dream of fire and fear, the kind of fear where one is utterly hopeless and despairing. Everything was burning. There was nowhere to go. Smoke and bright, flickering light fueled disorientation. He would run and run and run until his legs were about to give out, entire body feeling like concrete lined his very bones and ligaments, weighing him down until he finally collapses… and wakes up.
The memory is hazy, disjointedly recreated by his mind, which is usually the case with dreams of course but that didn’t make it feel any less jarring. Nor did it make this particular neck of the woods feel any less familiar. Familiarity… Why did he feel like he’d been here before? Sure, he’d cut through this forest many times to get to villages and the capital, but it’s vast and widespread, and he never recalls going through this particular route.
His horse’s feet stomp down into the dirt, creating a rhythmatic background noise that seems to fuel his almost trancelike state further. The voice gets even louder, this time the typically unfamiliar words turning to something he can distinctly understand. It catches him so completely off guard he abruptly stops his horse, now only a short distance left to the first tower.
The wicked shall face righteousness. The wronged shall be righted. The lost shall be reunited.
So mote it be.