Abberline squealed as Stolas burst into her room. The woman grappled with her bathrobe to cover herself, sending bathwater slashing everywhere.
"What do you think you're doing, this behaviour does not befit a prince!" she said. Stolas frowned, his blatant dislike for this woman spread plain across his face.
"Where is the mask?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The virtue mask you wore as a headpiece, where is it?"
"Now you are stealing from me too? Those despicable children already ruined my makeup." She said scrunching up her face in disgust. "Ugh, it is over there, on the dresser, just get out already." Stolas rushed to the dresser and grabbed the mask before the nausea returned. Although, when Michaeas wore it, he noticed the clothing lost its effect.
Returning to his own chambers, Michaeas lay waiting inside. Now washed, packed up and ready to go, all that remains to be done is his human disguise. He filtered through the wardrobe with a curious expression, examining the fabric and designs. To him, human clothing must be bizarre, Stolas observed.
"Here, I got you another. You cannot wear your broken one anymore." he said with a nervous smile. Michaeas turned and thanked him with a tilt of his head, taking the mask from his hand. The two remained staring at each other, before Stolas realised his fault and swiftly went to leave the room. He sat himself outside the door, waiting for the angel to change, and as time passed, his thoughts wandered to the fight with the Power. Michaeas is clearly higher ranked, so why would the Power seek to disobey his orders? He seemed so angry. At the same time, Michaeas is so gentle on the matter that his motives are beyond unclear. "What do they even want with me in the first place?" he muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Stolas resolved to ask him why when the right time arose.
A small knock on the door invited him back in.
"Balit el."
Stolas's brows shot up in surprise. His bloodstained garments tossed aside, Michaeas opted for a white shirt with leather straps and matching belt, black leather riding trousers and boots, with a black overcoat and a fur lined cloak. The angel looked into the mirror and observed himself. Feeling his long hair between his fingers, Stolas noticed his gaze turn to fall on his clawed gauntlets.
"You do not need to cut it. Just tie it up into a braid, your hood will hide it." said Stolas inching closer. He outstretched his hand to touch his hair, judging his face for consent. Michaeas did not stop him, so tentatively, he raked it together in his hands and began to weave the strands together. Although it appeared similar to human hair at first glance, the texture felt wildly different. So soft he could hardly feel it gliding between his fingers. "There," he said as he pulled up Michaeas' hood. "Now no one will know."
"Good?" asked Michaeas as he turned to face him.
"Ah, yes you look-" Stolas paused. "Balit. You look balit." he smiled. Stolas grabbed his bags and left for the hall, with Michaeas following closely behind. The angel's presence still sent shivers down his spine, whether he liked it or not.
Kalou and Éirean waited in the main hall alongside the twins and a disgruntled Abberline. Stolas' face fell. No Caine in sight. "Is he really not coming?"
"We cannot force him, you know that," said Kalou, handing him the drake. "He has a unique hatred that I am not certain he will be able to surpass."
"You are one to talk, how many Galdrian soldiers have you killed?" said Éirean with a disapproving look.
"Don't bring that up!" Kalou flushed red, glancing at his brother. Stolas sighed as the pair continued to bicker. Running one hand through his hair, he used the other to massage his eyes for the throbbing pain that took root there.
"I am right here you dolts," said Caine as he emerged from behind a pillar. His eyes sharp and piercing, Caine made no effort to hide the scowl upon his face as saw Michaeas. "That creature… I have reconsidered." Stolas let the surprise register on his face. "It may guide us, but it must remain at the back of the company when walking, and when not it must drive. It must be weaponless, and with you at all times. If I hear a word from it in my direction, I will kill it myself. Do you understand?" Stolas pushed his pointed finger away from his chest.
"I understand, but Caine-" As soon as the affirmation left his mouth Caine about-turned and severed the conversation.
"Abberline, I understand you are travelling with the twins back to Nurbaldir?"
"Regrettably," she said through pressed lips. "I dislike these brats, do not blame me if I abandon them along the way."
"Surely you are not so heartless?" said Caine with a smile insinuating he knew very well that she is, in fact, that heartless. "Take this letter with you. You must deliver it to the King and to the King only - not a guard, not his squire, the King himself."
"Since when do you command me?" She asked, reaching for the envelope. Caine gripped it.
"Your word?" Abberline's face fell flat as her chest.
"You have it." She snatched the letter.
The group followed the three outside and aided the two boys onto their horse. All said their goodbyes as they watched them trot away into and through the city.
"Do we not have horses?" asked Kalou, the stables now bare.
"No, I sold the other two. We have a carriage."
Coming up the hill into the courtyard, a rickety old carriage dragged by two solemn looking horses appeared. A faded layer of green paint coated the splintering wood but the rusted hinges still seemed somewhat sturdy. It would still be more comfortable than that inn floor, thought Stolas. Caine ushered Kalou and Éirean inside with all of their luggage, stopping when Stolas and Michaeas absentmindedly went to follow.
"Ah, Micha, we are up front." Michaeas tilted his head in confusion and Stolas addressed the reigns. "You must abandon your gauntlets as well." That, the angel grasped. He tossed his gauntlets into the hands of the coachman who greedily accepted the overpayment and vanished.
The pair hopped into the driver's seat and Stolas snapped the reins. They travelled through to the city gates and noticed an influx of royal guards heading straight for the mansion they just left. "I guess father knows."
"King?"
"Yes. King. I am his child, which makes me Prince. Although I suppose you already knew that. Like Belial, he is your King, and you must be… a General?" Asked Stolas, digging a little further. Michaeas paused and pulled out a small book from his bag. Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he peered over the angel's shoulder. He held a small leather bound notebook, human made, with etchings in both Lazerian and a foreign text. Michaeas pointed to the phrase 'second in command'.
"What!" Stolas exclaimed.
"Watch out!"
"Shit!" He could not turn in time as the horses raised on their hind legs in alarm and a crowd of people scattered from underneath. The carriage screeched to a halt and swearing emanated from within. "I'm so sorry!" Stolas immediately hopped off and ran to a man on the ground. He dressed in red, in fact they all did. A mask lay scattered on the ground three feet away. "Are you alright, Sir?" said Stolas as he fetched his mask and returned it to him. Though averting his eyes, he caught a glint of dark blond hair. He is not an angel, at least. The man secured his decorative mask and faced him.
"Yes, your royal highness."
"Please don't say that too loud." He begged, pulling up his fallen hood. "People are not meant to know it's me."
"Oh, I see. My apologies that my disciples and I were in your way. We have travelled far from our sect to deliver aid, and we are weary from the journey. Not only that, we have already discovered the body of a murdered guard." Although he spoke with the voice of a young man, his cadence and tone carried the weight of wisdom and empathy.
"Tell me, what is the name of your sect Sir? I will ensure to send you reparations for the trouble I have caused today. Although I do insist you keep this to yourself."
"Of course. We are disciples of the Eden sect, and we would welcome such an honour as to receive a gift from someone such as yourself. Our silence is guaranteed." With a small nod, the head disciple wasted no time reconvening his sect mates into an ordered line, marching on through the city carrying bags stuffed with lung and burn medicine. That was quick, he thought.
"Balit el," Michaeas held out his hand. He hesitated, but only for a brief second as he grabbed hold of him.
They left through the city gates, and the guard that greeted them had been replaced. Kalou murdered him their first night here, didn't he? A shudder ran through him as he pictured his brother returning to the inn, wiping his hands, but he only let the pangs of disappointment show with a small bite of his lip.
The party travelled on through the day and very little words exchanged between them until it came time to make camp for the night. They settled by a forest road, setting a fire and cooking their food. Kalou and Éirean sat huddled in their cloaks sipping tea with their legs swinging out the back of the carriage. Caine tended to the fire and Stolas took a moment to tend to the horses. Michaeas lurked in the forest guarding them from a distance.
Of the few words that did pass between them, Michaeas explained in broken Lazerian the conflict that occurred in the manor, as well as the imposing threat they faced on the road: The Power grieved for her friend. In that grief she disagreed with the manner in which Michaeas handled their mission, she wished to use force to drag Stolas back to their lair and let it be done. In her insubordination, the Power sent word to Belial calling for aid.
Stolas sighed as he stroked the nose of one of the horses, his thoughts and anxieties about every shadow in between the tree trunks stressed him to the brink of a panic attack. The soothing nature of the horses did nothing to stop his hair from standing on end as his mind went into overdrive thinking about everything he didn't know.
The snap of a twig made him reach for his knife.
"Safe." Said Michaeas. Stolas let out a breath, but not all of it.
"Good." Stolas gave a small smile and returned to the carriage, kicking out Kalou and Éirean. "Give me just two hours, I need to sleep."