When Cedric woke up at the same rum-sodden table, it was already dark out. As he slowly turned his head upward and gazed around the cozy tent, he saw Dagan and the other three lounging in front of a small fire pit, looking half-asleep.
Just as he wondered where Quentle was, he was being tapped on the shoulder. Yawning, he turned around to see the boy wearing a solid black cloak that somewhat hid his spear in his back, and holding another cloak out toward him while mischievously motioning for him to keep quiet. He stood up without questioning him, wrapped the cloak around him, and began to follow him out of the tent.
"You bet'r wathcher selves out 'ere, dammit," Dagan grumbled without moving from his wooden chair, freezing the two where the stood.
"Be back later, Master," Quentle replied with a smirk. "Don't burn the tent down while I'm out, hehe."
With that, they departed, and made off through the dimly lit back alleys of Market Town. As they approached the alleyway where he'd had an awkward run in the night before, Cedric looked around warily, gripping the new knife he'd just bought from Thom.
This time, there were no issues. Even as he begrudgingly led the way down the forked path where he'd first run into the specter, there were no signs of anybody or anything. As such, they were able to sneak their way through Castle Town with ease, and found themselves entering the ruins together for the second straight night.
"Ya know, Quentle," Cedric finally spoke the first words between the two the whole way to this point, "I think I understand now what you mentioned last night."
"Ooh? What's that?"
"The ruins…tonight, seeing them fills me with anger. Even though Garik worked so hard, this happened due to our selfish leaders focusing only on Castle Town."
"Yeah, I guess that's true when you look at it that way..."
"I won't let this kind of thing happen again on our soil. Let's make our move tonight, so that it doesn't."
"Heh, you don't have to tell me. Though, I have no idea what's going to happen tonight, but no matter which one of us it is…let's make sure all of us make it to the beach in time to celebrate a victory."
With the solid sound of their fists thumping together, the two continued briskly into the heart of the ruins.
"Well, he at least didn't come to get early practice this time, or his 'early practice' wasn't here at all," Quentle remarked, sitting down at the bench under the empty awning.
"Well for now I guess we'll just wait. The others are coming too, this time. If he doesn't get here soon, though…"
"Yeah," Quentle answered calmly.
And so, they waited, until the five other boys showed up together some ten minutes later.
"Oy ya scoundrels, kept us waiting, ya know?" Quentle greeted the group in his usual style.
"Hey guys," Cedric added with a smirk. "Didn't bring Mel with ya, huh?"
"I talked to him in our village after lessons, said he'd probably be a little late," Farum replied, brandishing a bow and quiver of arrows. "Asked me to bring along his stuff in case we needed to start without him."
"Ahh… you guys haven't seen him, have you?" Cedric asked, looking at the other four.
"Not since class, no," the articulate Berd responded.
"Same, been with Berd all day," Kaolo added, his hands on his head.
"Uh, we saw Mel heading out from the Cillavier household well after lessons." Geraint spoke up, looking somewhat out of place.
"Yeah, it looked like he was heading toward the back exit that goes right into the forest," his brother Jorge added with an interested look.
Cedric glanced quickly in Quentle's direction, only to see him directing his focus elsewhere.
"Hey, Farum, lemme see that bow," the frivolous boy plainly requested, grabbing a hold of Mel's bow before Farum could extend it toward him.
"What is it, Quentle?"
"Look at this, Cedric," Quentle ushered him over, staring intently at the thin yew curve.
"Huh...is that?"
Quentle peeled a thin sheet of parchment from around the bow's curve, where it was tightly wrapped and stuck with sap. Cedric looked on as the paper unraveled, and the two read the words inked onto it together in a whisper.
Cedric and Quentle looked with wide eyes at one another.
"We never should have waited here!" Cedric exclaimed, leaping out from the awning.
"I know! Let's go!" Quentle replied, crushing the parchment in his hand and taking off after him.
"Hey, where the hell are you two going?!" Berd yelled at their backs.
"Sorry guys, game's cancelled tonight! Go home, and please, don't tell anyone about this!" Quentle shouted back as they reached full sprint within the ruined village.
It only took several minutes for the two to race beyond the ruins and into the forest. Neither knowing their way around the off-limits forest, they just continued running in a straight line, forced to slow slightly due to the density of the fir trees.
"Oh, by the way!" Cedric panted as he ran, "The rumor about wolves in the forest is apparently true."
"You tell me that now?"
"Sorry, forgot!"
"Who forgets something like that? All you think about is war, isn't it?"
"Shut up and run, ruffian! Look, you're falling behind!"
"Now you've done it, Wardric! I'm gonna beat you so hard your stupid hair will stop sticking up like a cow licked you every day for a year!"
"Good luck, with that dinky spear! Maybe one day you'll actually be tall enough to use it properly!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm short, I applaud your creativity. Hey, speaking of wolves, you know this could very easily be a trap, right?"
"Of course, I do. But I also know that that was, without a doubt, Mel's handwriting! And either way, we already decided tonight would be the night…"
"Yeah, we did!" Quentle's tone shifted back as he looked ahead with certainty. Seeing this, Cedric followed suit, gritting his teeth and speeding ahead of his friend.
Suddenly, in the distance, a figure appeared in the direction they were headed. As the two drew nearer to the figure, they exchanged a quick glance. Quentle bore a gleam in his eyes that conveyed his strategy flawlessly. Cedric, understanding his intention, slowed down to let him take the lead, and concentrated on observing the person standing in their way.
Now in closer proximity, he had a better view of the man, whose light brown cloak and winding robes made him seem like a part of the forest. Just as he spotted the dirty blonde locks peeking out from his hood, the man raised his left arm in a familiar motion. However, instead of steam rising from his arm, a cold, hollow aura poured throughout the area. Around him, a dense fog emanated, shrouding him further in shadow. However, the rushing Quentle was unperturbed, and thrust his spear at the fog fiercely, aiming for the man's right side. As a chunk of the fog dissipated, the man slipped out from Quentle's attack, seemingly relaxed.
This forced him to slip to his left to avoid Quentle's aggressive attack, in a spot Cedric had been targeting, waiting for Quentle to lead him into his range. He could now see his thin, tall figure and dazzling blonde curls.
"BLONDE BANDIT!!!"