The conversation ended at that, and they went their separate ways. Rain rushed off to work out the dealings of her outfit while Corwal and Arawn made their way back to the house. There wasn't anything there to bind them, but there was nothing else in the small village waiting for them either. None of the mercenaries would look upon them kindly, and it was better to avoid more trouble.
"When did you stop being the naive little kid I picked up on the street? I almost miss when you just did all I told you," Corwal said when they sat down in their living room.
Arawn glanced at the unfamiliar earthen walls without anything to mark them. Maybe calling the place theirs was a bit of a stretch. They hadn't spent more a night there.
"And I preferred when you didn't use me to threaten your opponents," he said in reply after a while.
Although he had known it might be a possibility, it was different to hear it actually happen. It reminded him of the dungeon in which he had stayed for half a year before the Gutter. Back there, all the prisoners had been thrown into a single large room deep underground where they could kill each other to the last person for all anyone cared.
Straight away, a few people had accosted Arawn and suffered the consequences. He had thought that would be the end of it, but he had expected too much. A few craftier prisoners instantly decided to 'befriend' him to use his power as a threat.
They hid it from Arawn, and for a time he didn't know what they were doing. A number of heinous acts were done because of that. He was beyond furious when he found out, and . no one had a good ending afterwards. Soon after, he was moved to the Gutter.
Corwal leaned back against his chair and sighed. His hair had grown quite long, and he pushed it back from his eyes while staring at the ceiling. "You know I didn't mean it. I would never put you through that."
Their gazes were about to meet when Corwal turned his head to him, but Arawn looked away. He knew people well enough to have no illusions about what horrible things they could do to achieve their goals.
"Maybe not now, but one day… You're dangerous. And you know my weakness."
"You're giving me too much credit. I still treasure my life. You would never attack them yourself, and if I did anything to you, I'd suffer the consequences too," Corwal said with absolute certainty in his voice. "The mission might be all that matters to me, but I like living, so you can have no worries. I'm just tired."
The fact that Corwal used a logical reason instead of relying on their friendship or the things they had went through reassured Arawn somewhat. When he thought about it this way, it made sense. No one who had incited him to lose control had ever survived it. Corwal may be a talented combat mage, but he wasn't omnipotent.
He was a monstrous existence by normal people standards, but when compared to Arawn, he was nothing more than a fragile human. His death would be a certainty if they fought.
"Don't discount me so much," Corwal said with a ghost of a smile. "I can see on your face how you're lowering my threat level to that of ants."
"Are you sure you don't want that?" Arawn asked, looking up.
He didn't even know how tense he had been until relief had washed over him. Being a monster was his worst nightmare, and to be seen as such by his only companion hurt even more.
Corwal scrunched up his eyebrows, pretending to give it some serious thought. After a moment, he shook his head. "It's a rather unique feeling to be seen as a weak and frail normal human for once."
Since they had nothing to do, they went to take a nap. It was a glorious idea, and Arawn slept till late afternoon. He wasn't tired but his mind asked for a day off.
When they woke up, they went in search of food, but no one wanted to share with them. In the end, they were forced to return to Rain's place. She offered them late lunch, but didn't join them. She was too busy trying to work out the finances of her outfit.
"We're leaving," Corwal declared after their meal. "They don't want us here, and Rain can find us in the town."
It sounded like a fine plan, and they set out of the forest with a guide they coerced into helping them. The man wasn't eager to help them, but he had no good reason to refuse. The explanation that they were Scarlet Treason's dogs wasn't acceptable.
By the evening, they made their way out of the forest and reached a road near the town. Their guide waved them off with impatience and disappeared back into the gloomy trees.
Not caring too much about it, Arawn followed Corwal in the direction of the town. They still had an inn reservation there. They hadn't left many of their things in the room, but all of Arawn's writing materials were there. It would have been troublesome to take them into the forest.
The moment they got close to the inn, a shadow separated from a side street. Arawn took a step back, about to call for the ether, but Corwal raised his hand, stopping him.
"He's not a threat," he said in a low voice.
Once the person came into the evening light, Arawn recognized him. It was the young man from Scarlet Treason. He had been part of the trio that had stepped forward before, but since he had remained silent, Arawn hadn't paid him much attention.
Now, he corrected that mistake. The youth seemed to be in his late teens and had the look of a foreigner. Black hair cut in an uneven manner framed his face that was a little wider than expected. It looked as if… it had another structure.
While pondering over that, Arawn faced the most important feature he had yet to analyse. The youth's skin was darker than theirs, and it clearly wasn't because of tan. That stunned him for a moment.
In the Gutter, he had heard of dark-skinned savages from the north, but he had thought it was only an expression. Not once had he considered the possibility that the prisoners would be describing actual skin color.
"Mutallu, I thought I made it clear enough that I don't want to have anything to do with Scarlet Treason."
"That's fine. I took some time off to see family."
A corner of Corwal's lips rose up. "You don't have family."
The youth inclined his head while looking around. "Can we go somewhere more private? I need to talk to you."
Since they were right before the inn, that was exactly where they went. Once they reached the first floor, Mutallu checked the surrounding rooms by softly knocking on the door and then entering once no one answered. He said it was to make sure they were really alone.
He also eyed Arawn with some distrust, but didn't say anything. Unlike Peter and his instant dislike, Mutallu seemed to just be wary of him like any other stranger. Yet because Corwal said it was fine, he let it go and focused on the reason for which he had come.
"I'll get straight to the point. Peter has too much power in the outfit, so we can't openly go against him. Everyone idolizes you, and since he's your uncle, that belief in you is transferred to him. If we were to raise up against him, the three of us may only gather half of the outfit."
"Are you suggesting I should return and set him in place?" Corwal asked. He was serious, not faking amusement as usual.
Mutallu nodded. "Yes. In exchange, we will help you with your current mission and keep Peter at bay until you're finished."
"I think I've done that well enough myself. No need for you to interfere."
"You don't know what happened after you left. Couple months later, Peter found out he had an illegitimate daughter. Overjoyed, he rushed off with half the camp to see her. When he reached the small town, it was in ashes. The king had burned the whole place down for harboring his offspring."
The youth's voice held no semblance of emotion when he spoke. He only stared at Corwal with dark eyes that looked as treacherous as a swamp. One step inside, and the person would sink right into the depths.
"He was ready to go on a rampage right there and then. Only with the power of all three of us did we manage to hold him back from marching into the capital and killing all of us in his mad quest to avenge his family. Quinna reminded him of you then, saying that you were still alive. He latched onto that like a drowning man."
Corwal scowled and crossed his arms. There was disgust as well as annoyance on his face. "In other words, what you're trying to say is that he'll never leave me alone. And it's your fault."
"He is your uncle," Mutallu said like it explained everything.
"And I've lamented it since the moment I met him."
They fell into a silence, just watching each other. Arawn stayed to the side, not saying anything either. He could understand the obvious implications of their words, but not the underlying meaning. What did the help offered by the man even entail?
"Fine. What do you have to offer me?"
"Nothing as of now, but the outfit will be returning to the country."
"Good enough, keep me updated then."
The youth nodded and stood up. Without a goodbye, he went out the door. His footsteps echoed down the corridor before fading away when he descended the stairs. In a short while, the first floor of the inn regained its quiet.
Arawn walked toward the desk and located his writing tools. They stood in the corner where he had left them, unmoved. Happy about it, he sat down and began trying to write once more. His letters were still no better than child's scribbles, but he was starting to recognize them. Although many of the letters looked similar, he was sure he could name most of them without making a mistake.
For a time, Corwal disappeared downstairs, but he returned before the sun set. Surprisingly, he didn't smell of alcohol. Arawn thought to ask about it, but decided against it. He didn't want to remind his friend about the day before.
By then, Arawn's wrist hurt like it was about to break, and he reluctantly lowered the quill. There were pages and pages of weird lines before him. Just a week ago, they would have meant nothing to him; he would have just frowned and left them alone.
Now though, they told the story of his hard work. Day after day, he kept on practicing, giving meaning to something that had no intrinsic meaning. Each of the weird scribbles held an idea, representing a sound people made to speak to one another.
"Tired already?" Corwal asked from his bed. The man was sitting against the head post with a scroll in hand.
"No," Arawn said instantly. He looked around and focused on the pouch of coins at his friend's waist. "Explain the money to me once more."
"What if I'm tired already?" Corwal yawned, stretching his hands high above his head. "What then?"
Arawn frowned. It had been a long day, but the sun had yet to set… He didn't want to lose so many free hours during which he could be learning new things. There was no telling if he could continue his studies when they decided on their next course of action.
Laughing, Corwal pushed himself off the bed and stood up. In a blink of an eye, five coins were in his hand. "You should have seen the consternation on your face. It's like I've said I'll kidnap your firstborn daughter."
Annoyance rose within Arawn, but it was replaced by excitement the moment he realized he could continue learning. Soon, he would be able to join society and become just another body in its workings. When that time came, he could lose himself in the crowd and not stand out ever again.
His mind couldn't resist going further with that dream. He would probably become a doctor and spend every day healing people's injuries. They would call for him when hurt, and he would rush over with blessed light to ease their pain.
And all of that was only a hand's reach away. Once he learned to write, read, and count, he could disappear. He would probably wait till they saved the princess, since he really wanted to see her, but after that... he could become like Sylvester.
It would be sad to leave Corwal, but the man could visit him from time to time. They would sit somewhere in the open, showered in sunlight, and speak of the days past as well as what had happened since.
'Just a little bit more,' Arawn told himself while thoroughly ignoring the part of him that said monsters did not have happy endings. He deluded himself into believing that as long as he became a nobody, no one would come looking for trouble and he could avoid losing control.