#ts storytime 2019

[justisaisfine]

!!! These were all drawn for the @ts-storytime to go along @gaylotusthatexists ‘s fantastic fic By the sea!! I had a blast painting these and reading this sweet sweet story ahhh 💜💜💜

[thegoldofyourheart]

Illustration for chapter 2 of The Gold of Your Heart. The start of the adventures of Roman and Deceit.

Masterpost  • Art Tag for The Gold of Your Heart

[arcticfern]

Quite Extraordinary

My fic for the @ts-storytime Big Bang project! I’m several days past my posting date, but I managed to get it done! This is going to be Part 1 of 2, and I understand the second part won’t be reblogged once it’s posted. Part 1 will be uploaded to my AO3, arrowcreates, chapter by chapter over the next few says. I’m absolutely honored that I got to participate in this project, and super duper thankful to my artist, @lestroodledoodles, for drawing such a gorgeous piece for my fic. I hope everyone gives him the love he deserves, and I hope everyone enjoys this fic! 

This fic is a Fable III Sanders Sides AU. The game meant everything to me as a kid, and I wanted to make this project something I would never forget.

Word Count: 22,619 

Pairings: Logan/Roman, Virgil/Patton

Warnings: Deceit, Remus, Major Character Death (in part 2), minor character deaths, implied sexual behaviors, blood, gore, skeletons, more tags to be added

In his dream, there were two children. One was older, a sister called Rose. The other was a brother she called little sparrow. They had only each other. They had no home, and no money, though they were happy enough.

But it could not last. 

A trader came to town, boasting wares from all around the world. Among them was a music box that the trader claimed was magical. The girl dismissed it, but a mysterious blind woman warned her against so easily refusing magic. The siblings set out to earn enough money to buy the box. 

It was not easy. They captured criminals, killed bugs, and various other tasks. They saved a dog who instantly bonded with the boy. Eventually, they had enough for the box. 

It was a beautiful music box that, when opened, was supposed to grant a single wish. The girl and her brother wished to live in the glorious castle they slept in the shadows of, and the box played its haunting melody. Disheartened when their wish did not immediately come true, the children slept. 

They were awoken some time later by servants of the castle, sent to collect them. The Lord of the castle, a widower who lived alone, wished to speak with them. He told them that he had heard their wish. He offered them a home, if they would help him first. 

The children, delighted that their wish had seemingly been answered after all, agreed. The Lord questioned them about the box, and the girl admitted they had opened it. This infuriated and confused the lord, who told them that only very special children could open it. He led them to his laboratory and bid them stand on a pedestal. 

When the pedestal began to glow, he retrieved a pistol and shot the sister, killing her instantly. The boy, terrified, fought to reach her. The Lord apologized for what he had done and was about to do, and then shot him, too, a brilliant blast that sent him through the window and to the ground in a flash of white light.

-

All Logan knew, for an instance, was light. 

Then he heard the voice of his butler, attempting to coax him from his bed. “It is time to wake up, Master Logan. You have a busy day ahead, and it is improper for a prince to sleep in.“ 

Logan groaned and covered his eyes. "Go away, Virgil,” he ordered. The tail of his sentence got caught in a yawn. 

Virgil clicked his tongue at him and came over anyway. “That is not an option, sire. With your permission, I shall wake your companion.” He took hold of the blanket and pulled it to the end of the bed, revealing a mound of fur. “Wake up, Cat." 

The fluff unwound itself until it could poke a snout and floppy ears into Virgil’s hand. The dog gave a single bark and then leaped from the bed, trotting over the window to look outside. 

Logan sighed, finally sitting up. "Cat, must you be so hyper in the mornings?” He asked. “You were so quiet as a pup." 

"Ah, is that why you named a dog Cat?” A light creak came from the corner of the room as Virgil opened his wardrobe. “Which outfit would you prefer today, sire?" 

"What is my schedule today?" 

Virgil returned with two bundles of clothes, which he expertly arranged on the bed. "Master Elliot was looking for you earlier, and I believe your brother is hosting a supper this evening. I’ve taken the liberty of choosing outfits that correspond to each event. Of course, should you choose the ‘rougher’ outfit, you will have time to return to your quarters and change before supper." 

It was barely even a question. "Declan has spies all over the castle,” Logan reasoned, “so if I were to wear something more according to Elliot’s tastes he would know before Elliot and I even crossed paths. The supper outfit this morning, I think, Virgil." 

Shortly thereafter, once the particularly stubborn collar had been vanquished, Logan was dressed. He called Cat to him and opened the door to his room. The guards snapped to attention, a light breeze ruffling the hair under their caps. "Remember, you have lessons with Sir Patton after dinner,” Virgil reminded him. “And be wary of your brother. He’s in an unusually foul temper this morning.”

“Will do,” Logan replied. “Bye, Virgil.” He clicked his tongue, and prince and dog descended into the garden. 

Despite Logan’s refusal to primp and preen as the nobles of court did, he had to admit that he loved the complex symmetry of the people currently wandering the grounds. The nobility confused him greatly: what sense did it make to be dressed more ridiculously that the royal family? And as if the powdered wigs and massive hoop skirts weren’t silly enough, they even had to speak like useless fops. Logan hated them, yet he was absolutely fascinated by them. 

The only solace he could take was that across the gardens waited Elliot, a smart, sensible noble who Logan someday hoped to wed. Elliot saw the court for what it was: full of two-headed snakes. That was not to say he did not have his flaws, but if Logan had to choose any person from the upper echelons of Albion to rule with him, he would choose Elliot every time. He just had to reach him.

Weaving his way through the grounds was already somewhat difficult, given the layout, but it seemed that every person he crossed paths with wanted to speak with him. Were it not for Cat, he likely would have been stuck catering to the nobles for hours. His loyal companion growled whenever the nobles got uncomfortably close or asked inappropriate questions, which was always. Any noble who knew anything about Logan knew that when Cat growled or barked, their welcome had been overstayed. 

After beating back nobles for what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to ten minutes, Logan finally evaded the last of the nobles and made his way towards the massive tower at the back of the gardens. Easily as tall as the castle itself, the giant construct had been repurposed as a royal tomb by his father. He did not know what it had been before; any time he asked, Patton or Virgil found some other topic to discuss.

He had never been inside, as his mother’s funeral had been held right outside, in the gardens, when he was just a child. Her favorite place, according to Declan. The funeral for the old Hero King had been held at Bowerstone Lake so that the whole kingdom could view his body. All he knew of the old mausoleum was that the inside was supposed to be big and opulent. 

Logan had also heard some of the servants whisper amongst themselves that the old place was dangerous. He had no clue how it could be; it was just another mausoleum, if a spectacularly large one. 

His thoughts were broken as he rounded the back of the mausoleum and a familiar voice called out to him. “Logan!” The grin that lit Logan’s face was one rarely seen as his beloved came bounding over to him. 

Elliot was only a few months older than him, but he would be taller were it not for Logan’s ridiculous heeled shoes. His eyes, a rich brown color that Logan could recall even in sleep, twinkled at the sight of him. He gave a little mock bow and then chuckled. “Good morning, Logan. I was worried I would have to protect the kingdom all alone." 

"I can’t let you have all of the fun, now can I?” Logan replied, bowing in response. Declan would berate him for that, if someone reported him; his older brother didn’t believe royalty should show inferiors respect. “We shall save the whole of Albion, you and I." 

"Oh, really? And how would you stop an army?” Elliot teased. In response, Logan gave him the gentlest kiss. Eliot flushed. “Now, that might work, but I suppose I’ll be a bit jealous." 

Logan laughed and stepped past him to stand by the garden rail. The view, dreary though it was, never failed to dazzle him. The air had a salty taste to it this morning, wind blown in from the sea. Elliot came up next to him, and for a moment they stared at Bowerstone in silence. Finally, Logan asked, "Virgil said you wanted to see me?" 

Elliot’s face took on a serious look. "Yes. Things have been getting worse in the city. The staff say a factory worker was executed this morning. Your brother has them all scared senseless.” His hand found Logan’s on the railing, and he squeezed it. “I told them you would speak with them. They need someone to ease their minds. Will you do it?" 

"Of course. When do I need to meet them?" 

"As soon as you can. I fear what your brother may do if he hears them talking.” Logan nodded and stepped back, away from the city, away from the momentary, precious taste of freedom on the air. 

The boys kept each other’s hands as they trekked through the gardens, Cat following dutifully. “Why would Declan execute a factory worker?” Logan asked idly. 

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s changed so much lately. He used to be happy, carefree. Now he looks so tired all the time.” They climbed the steps together under the eyes of the castle guard and a couple dozen nobles. “It’s hard to believe that was only four years ago." 

"Being king has changed him.” Logan turned his head to look back at Elliot. “Come in with me?” He asked. Elliot smiled sweetly and nodded. They stepped around a fleeing, soot-covered chicken and into the bowels of the castle.

Inside, the kitchen was a mess. Remnants of breakfast lay scattered, not yet cleaned. Logan had rarely seen the kitchen dirty; usually, the staff was already preparing lunch. 

The staff themselves stood huddled near the fire, where the head chef was lecturing them about how to behave. Logan found the notion ridiculous. The kitchen workers had never been anything but unbearably polite. He cleared his throat, and the head chef jumped. 

“Your Highness! We weren’t expecting you until later. It’s an honor.” In one fluid, well-rehearsed motion, the staff bowed in unison. “Master Elliot mentioned you would be coming this morning to speak with us. Have we done something wrong?" 

Logan frowned. Why had Elliot not told them the reason for his visit? "No, not at all. I’ve come to discuss certain rumors with you.” Various members of the staff flinched; one young lady hiccuped, eyes red from crying. 

He clasped his hands behind his back and assumed a dignified air. “I know this is a difficult time for all of you. Many of you have friends and family in the factories, and my brother grows more unpredictable by the day.” Technically, it was treason to say that, but Logan knew the cooks would never report him. They all agreed. “I thank you all for being patient and continuing to work under these circumstances. I will speak with Declan about these rumors and about improving working conditions both here and in the city. You have my word. Thank you." 

The staff let out a scattered round of applause, then quickly returned to work as the door into the rest of the castle opened to reveal a familiar face. "That was quite a speech. You didn’t threaten, you didn’t shout, you didn’t behave anything like a royal.” The man grinned. “It was bloody brilliant." 

Elliot laughed. "Good morning, Sir Patton. Here to snatch him from me once again?” He held up their entwined hands. “You may have to fight me for him.”

The older man smiled at the pair. “It is time for lessons,” Patton confirmed. “He needs to practice, Elliot. Don’t make me arrest you.” The joke, meant to be lighthearted, fell a little flat as they all reflected on the morning’s events. 

“It’s true, then?” Logan asked quietly. 

Patton nodded. “I’m afraid so. Come on, Logan, your lessons are important." 

Elliot squeezed his hand once more before letting go. "Take care of him, Patton." 

Logan trailed along behind Patton as he climbed the inner steps to the dining hall. His mind was reeling. How could Declan execute a factory worker? It seemed so totally unlike his brother. No, he corrected himself, it 

 to be unlike Declan. Logan didn’t know who his king was anymore. 

They were just entering the Great Hall when Logan registered the raised voices. A cursory glance around the room revealed that the morning’s petitioners had been let into a roped off section of the hall. One man, in particular, kept attempting to flag down passing nobles. None would make eye contact with him, perhaps fearing Declan’s wrath; it was well-known that the petitioners asked for things Declan could, but would not, give his subjects. 

Patton slowed down as they passed the crowd, and the man seized his chance. "Sir Patton! Would you be willing to sign my petition? We have to come together to stop the poverty running rampant through Bowerstone." 

"Very well,” Patton agreed easily. “But I’m just an old soldier, I don’t see that my signature will do much good. Perhaps the prince here would be willing to sign?" 

Logan loved his mentor, but very much hated him in moments like this. He was nowhere near the socialite Declan used to be, and often preferred simply being alone or with trusted companions. As the man turned to him, he shot Patton a look. "Oh, would you? It would greatly help." 

"I would be happy to,” Logan answered awkwardly, taking the pen and signing the offered parchment with his neat scrawl. 

The man grinned. “Thank you, Your Highness! With your signature, perhaps King Declan will be forced to listen to us!” He turned and darted back into the crowd before the guards could force him away. 

Patton had already begun across the room again, into the opposite corridor. Logan scrambled to catch up. “Declan won’t be pleased with you,” Patton stated. “That was a bold thing you did back there." 

Logan saw no need to reply, and said nothing.

After a moment, Patton continued. "You’ve been making real progress lately, but your opponents won’t always go easy on you, and I won’t always be there. Today, I want you to fight me like your life depends on it, because someday, it might." 

They reached the training room and Patton immediately grabbed a sword off the racks. He nodded toward the rack on the opposite wall, letting Logan choose his own sword, as opposed to tossing him one as he usually did. Logan selected a standard blade, heavy enough to raise sizable bruises but not too heavy that he couldn’t wield it. 

Patton took his position on the floor, and Logan copied him effortlessly. Years of practice coalesced into this one moment. Logan felt his mind shift to what Patton called his ‘battle mode.’ His sensory input seemed to heighten, allowing him to easily predict which way a sword or axe might swing. His body grew tense enough to spring easily out of the way, but still loose enough to allow ease of movement. Patton had told him once, when he was young and still learning how to do it, that his father had been able to do the same thing during a battle. 

Logan would never tell anyone that hearing that almost made him cry. And certainly not that it had made him imagine what it would be like to be a Hero like his father. 

Though Patton always let Logan strike first, apparently he felt today should be a challenge. Logan barely had time to block his first attack. "Logan!” Patton always changed when they trained: he became stern, strict, the soldier he used to be. “Think on your feet!" 

The next attack was easier to dodge, but Logan already knew what would happen. Patton knew Logan’s defense was sorely lacking. If he didn’t turn this match around, get on the offensive, he would lose. 

When Patton next came at him, he was ready. He ducked and then lashed out, catching Patton across the knees. He sprung back and lunged again, striking Logan in the ribs, but not before Logan dealt a blow to his shoulder. The fight levelled out, neither having the upper hand.

Logan couldn’t have said how long the fighting wore on, only that he rapidly tired out. Finally, it seemed the end of the match was near. Patton was relentless, and Logan was losing focus. 

Then, right as Patton moved to strike the final blow, something peculiar happened. Logan blinked, and everything became crystal clear. He knew, without any doubt, what Patton was about to do. He knew, also, that he could block it. 

He moved almost faster than his eyes could process. Patton, perhaps sensing the shift, changed in an instant from offense to defense. Logan’s blade met his with a deafening crack, and Patton’s sword hit the tile. 

"My gods,” Patton wheezed. He held something out for Logan to examine. It was the hilt of his sword. “You only went and broke it! Am I good or what?" 

Logan was astounded. It was a clean break. "I really did that?” He asked. 

Patton grinned. “Your father would be proud. Listen-" 

The door to the room burst open, revealing a panicked Elliot. "Patton! Come quickly! You need to see this!" 

Patton dropped the hilt and took off running, leaving Logan to chase after them. The three raced to the Great Hall, where Elliot led them to a window. Patton swore. "They’re rioting. This isn’t good.” He put a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Stay here. I need to find your brother." 

He turned swiftly and hurried up the stairs. Elliot and Logan shared a glance. "We can’t sit and do nothing. Come on!” Elliot grabbed Logan’s hand and tugged him toward the staircase. 

Figuring out where Patton and Declan would be was not hard. Declan spent most of his time in the War Room anymore. They rushed for the extravagant sitting room that was positioned in front of the War Room. 

Elliot dropped Logan’s hand and crept over to the door, looking in through the lock. He gestured Logan over. “Quickly! You can see them!” Logan crouched next to Elliot and peered into the room. 

“There’s no need for this,” Patton was saying. Declan stood off to the side, facing his map. Logan flinched at the sight of the massive scar on his face, as he always did. Every time he saw it, he wondered what had happened on the excursion that caused it, why Declan didn’t travel anymore. Why he was so cruel now. 

“You will not tell me what to do,” Declan responded emotionlessly. He gestured some of his elite guard to him. “Start with the ringleaders. If that doesn’t work, continue into the crowd.”

Patton took a step forward. “Declan, please, you don’t need to-” He was cut off as a guard smashed a rifle into the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground. 

“Patton!” Elliot breathed. He saw Logan straightened and reach for the handle. “Logan, wait-" 

All conversation halted as Logan burst into the War Room. Declan looked surprised for an instant. "What are you doing here? The War Room is no place for a child. Leave. Now." 

Logan clenched his hands into fists. "No. You can’t kill all those people." 

Declan raised an eyebrow. "You presume to tell me what I can and can’t do? Perhaps you think you should be making the decisions. Very well, let us see how you do.” He waved a hand, and Logan and Elliot were surrounded by guarda. “You are no longer a child, and it is time I stopped treating you as such. Take my brother and his friend to the throne room." 

-

"Move it!” One of the guards snapped. Elliot stumbled as he tried to move faster, and the guard hit him in the back with the butt of his rifle. Elliot fell to the floor. 

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Logan ordered. He helped Elliot to his feet, holding fast to his hand as they approached the steps leading up to the throne. 

Declan sat upon it, looking alarmingly bored. To his right, Logan saw a small group of people. Patton stood at Declan’s left hand. “Well, brother. You want to make decisions for the kingdom. Here before you stand the leaders of the violent mob. I will offer you a choice. Them, or this boy." 

Logan looked behind him as a guard yanked Elliot away from him. "What? I can’t do that, I won’t!" 

Patton stepped forward. "Your Majesty, I hardly think-” Declan held up his hand. Patton stopped instantly. 

“If you cannot decide, I will.” Declan stood and made his way to the stop of the steps. “They will 

 be executed." 

The room around Logan swayed every so slightly as he looked back and forth between Elliot and the peasants. Elliot locked eyes with him. "Logan, choose me. I couldn’t live with myself if you let them die. Please, it has to be me." 

Patton and Declan were both watching him carefully. Patton looked furious, Declan curious. Logan’s world was blurry and his cheeks were damp. 

In an instant, he made one of the hardest decisions in his life. 

He crossed the room to Elliot and grabbed him by the hands. "I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I have no choice.” Elliot’s eyes spoke a thousand words as he shrugged the guard away and wrapped Logan in a fierce hug. 

“I love you,” Elliot muttered. He pulled away and kissed Logan gently, then the guard grabbed his arm and jerked him back. Logan forced himself to stay still, though he longed to fight. He knew Elliot would suffer more if he fought. 

Once Elliot was gone, Logan turned back to his brother. The mob leaders were crying and hugging each other, relieved to be alive. Logan paid them no attention. “I will never forgive you for this,” he hissed. 

“Good,” Declan said. “Then you will never forget it.” He snapped his fingers, and two of his personal guard appeared. “Take my brother to his room." 

-

Hours later, the dusty purple of twilight snuck through Logan’s window, illuminating Cat curled up on his bed. Logan leaned against the windowsill, hands curled into fists. He had been attempting to rationalize why his brother would do such a thing, but so far had found nothing. “How could he make anyone choose between two evils like that?”

Virgil stood across the room, stoking the fire. “You musn’t blame yourself, Logan,” he said. “I don’t think any of us realized just how far he’d fallen into madness.” 

Logan clicked his tongue indifferently. Cat perked his head up, then got up and trotted over to his master, headbutting his side. Logan glanced down at his childhood companion. This dog had been Declan’s once, too. The boys had spent hours playing with him, bathing him, arguing over him. Then, just like today, Declan had become careless over the creature’s fate. Logan became his sole caretaker.

Staring at his dog, he came to a decision, one that scared and excited him. Looking back toward the window, he spoke to the night sky. “I can’t stay here,” he announced. 

The doors to his bedroom flung open, hitting the walls with loud cracks. Logan spun around, wondering if the very wind had carried his treason to Declan’s ear. Patton stared back at him, his expression unreadable. His gaze flicked to Virgil, who stood brandishing a fire poker. “You’re right,” he told them. “That’s why we’re leaving. Tonight.” 

“Leaving?” Logan repeated. 

Virgil set the poker down and hurried over toward Logan’s wardrobe. “Very good, I shall pack some essentials,” he muttered. Cat followed him, sniffing at the butler’s feet. 

Patton waved a hand. “There’s no time. We take nothing.” He spun on his heel and began to walk back out the door. 

Logan and Virgil shared a look, then Logan trailed after him. He dimly registered Virgil asking, “Not even pajamas?” 

Patton led them down the stairs and into the garden, occasionally stopping to look for guards. He spoke as they walked. “I should have taken you away sooner. Today shouldn’t have happened. Albion needs nothing less than a revolution.” His treacherous words seemed to echo through the deserted gardens. It struck Logan that just this morning, it had been a dull but happy place. Now, in the dark of a moonless night, it seemed haunted and dangerous. 

“Where are we going?” Logan asked. The gardens may have been pretty, but there was nowhere to go unless they planned to fling themselves off the cliff. “I thought you said we were leaving the castle.” 

Patton nodded. “We are, but there’s something we must do first.” He came to a halt in front of the old mausoleum. A crest Logan had never noticed before was inscribed in the stone above the door. “I promised your father I would bring you here when you were old enough.” 

Logan inched his way past the others, both of whom seemed lost in memories, and descended the steps leading to the door, trying to get a closer look at the mark. He had never seen the crest before, yet it tugged at something in the back of his mind, as if he should know what it meant. It was like staring at someone who claimed they were friends, but he had never met them before. “Patton?” He said finally. 

Patton blinked rapidly, coming back to himself. He followed Logan down the stairs and produced a key. As he put it in the door, he spoke, voice wistful. “It’s time we paid our respects to Albion’s last Hero.” 

-

The door closed behind them with a heavy thud. Virgil glanced behind them as Patton took the lead. The steps into the crypt were slippery. Logan had to grab onto Patton’s arm at one point, else he would have fallen. The steps evened out into a cracked, crumbling room lit at the far end by torches. Logan’s breath caught. Despite only being, at most, one or two hundred years old, the crypt was in ruins, pillars toppled and the floor cracked. 

"Magnificent, isn’t it?” Patton asked. Logan couldn’t understand why he thought the desecrated tomb was grand. “Come, your father is this way.” He gently steered Logan toward the far end of the room. As his eyes adjusted, he began to see what Patton had obviously been referring to. The pillars that had not been destroyed had intricate carvings of animals and strange runes. The floor tiles were rimmed with gold. And right before his eyes were two smooth stone tombs. On the other side of the tombs, a massive golden statue of a hooded man watched them, hands clasped over his chest. Across the tombs from the statue, at the top of the steps, lay a massive circle with that same symbol from atop the door.

Virgil moved up to the stone on the left; Patton took the right. Logan stood behind them, confused. When both of his friends bowed to the tombs, he realized this was their tribute. He let instinct guide him, stepping between the tombs and reaching out. His fingers grazed both of them as he somberly said a silent goodbye to his home. 

“Virgil,” Patton said quietly. “It’s time.” Logan looked up to see his mentor had moved. Now he knelt by the wall next to the statue. Virgil quickly copied him. “I regret not bringing you here sooner, but I worried you weren’t strong enough.” These words were directed at Logan. 

“Strong enough for what?” Logan asked. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. 

“The night your father died, he made me promise I would bring you here when you were old enough, strong enough.” Patton nodded his head at Virgil. In unison, they pushed the wall. Twin stones moved inward. 

A hideous creaking noise split the air as the statue’s clasped hands began to lower, rusty chains guiding them down. When the chains pulled taut, they did so in such a violent manner Logan worried they would snap. Nestled in the statue’s palms, directly in front of him, lay a golden circle with that odd symbol inscribed on it in a strange blue hue. “It’s that symbol again,” Logan muttered. 

“Ah, so you’ve been noticing them. This is your father’s most treasured possession: the Guild Seal. It chooses only those who are strong enough to be Heroes. Those with the potential to become legends. Take it.” Patton moved around the tomb to stand by him, not stepping on the Seal on the floor. 

Logan turned to the Guild Seal. It was so beautiful he didn’t want to touch it, lest he risk dirtying it with his fingers. Still, something in him beckoned him to pick it up. He reached out and carefully listed it from the outstretched hands. 

Nothing happened. 

Logan felt a peculiar sense of disappointment. Virgil clicked his tongue, and Patton swore quietly. “Perhaps he’s not ready, Patton,” Virgil whispered. 

Patton shook his head fiercely. “I was sure-” he began. 

He cut off as the Guild Seal began to glow, dim at first, then so bright Logan almost couldn’t look at it. He squinted and turned his head away slightly as Virgil shouted in surprise and Patton whooped. 

The light left him momentarily blinded. The weight in his hands disappeared. He dropped to his knees and cast his arms about, searching for the Guild Seal he was sure he had dropped. As his vision began to clear, he registered other things: he stood on a Seal identical to the one in the mausoleum. The air smelled like dirt and water. There was a playful breeze mussing his hair. The light that had blinded him did not look like torchlight. 

“The Guild Seal is in a safe place. You need not worry.” Logan looked up, wincing slightly as the light stabbed his eyes again. Several feet ahead of him, in front of a gate flanked by squat stone pillars, stood a hooded man. The same man as the statue in his parents’ mausoleum. Logan couldn’t see his face. 

Embarrassed, he got to his feet. The grass he had been combing through was green and lush, and was in a wide strip around him. If he followed the line of grass, it wound towards a distant building that he thought might be Bowerstone Castle. 

With a start, he realized the grass strip was the only ground he could see. A chilling thought raced through him, and he cautiously approached the edge of the grass. Surrounding the path on all sides was water, rippling in the wind. He stepped back, feeling vaguely, oddly seasick. 

The hooded figure waited patiently while he surveyed his surroundings, only speaking again as he approached. “You have done well to make it this far, Logan,” he said. His voice still sounded faintly echoey, despite Logan standing directly in front of him. 

“Who are you?” Logan asked. “What is this place?" 

The hooded man shifted his head slightly, and Logan realized he was blind. "I am Thomas, the Seer of the Spire. This is the path you were born to take. At the end is the kingdom you were born to rule.” He swept out an arm. Logan looked past him and saw several gates spanning the length of the grass, each flanked by similar stone pillars. Beyond the gate they stood in front of, a single chest sat in the grass. 

“What do you mean, the path I was born to take?” Logan demanded. “I do not take orders." 

Thomas turned to each of the pillars in turn, almost as if he could see them. "Of course not,” he mused. “You have been brought here because, like your father, you can touch the Guild Seal. Only a Hero can do so.” He let Logan react appropriately before moving on. “A Hero is exactly what Albion needs now. Your brother is leading the kingdom down a path of destruction and ruin, and none can oppose him. None but you." 

"You’re asking me to usurp my brother?” Logan asked. “He would have me executed for such treason." 

"It will be a difficult path,” Thomas answered. “But it must be done. With Declan on the throne, Albion will fall. You are the only one who can stop him. You already have two followers: Virgil,” a translucent image of his butler appeared to his left, “who would follow you to the ends of the earth, and Sir Patton Bron,” his faithful mentor appeared to his right, “who will be your greatest ally. They are good men, but even they will not be enough. You will need the people of Albion standing behind you. You will need an army."  

Logan looked at the two images of his closest confidants, and felt a pang in his chest. "How am I supposed to raise an army? I am the second son; nobody would dare disobey Declan,” he insisted. 

Thomas gestured to the gate behind him. “Regardless of your supposed heritage, you are meant to rule. You have already taken the first step in this journey. Step through the gate and claim your reward.”

Logan could never remember if he blinked, but next he knew Thomas was gone. The gate in front of him swung open silently, the first of what promised to be a great many. 

The chest was ornate, edged in swirling gold designs that culminated in a small Guild Seal where a lock would be. Logan pushed the chest lid experimentally. When it began to open, he lifted the lid the rest of the way. 

Inside lay a glove without fingers, made from a thick, dark brown leather. The back of the glove had a half-sphere made from crystal or glass. Loan picked it up carefully. The leather felt worn and surprisingly warm. Without hesitation, he pulled it into his right hand. 

It fit perfectly. 

“This gauntlet will help you channel the magic within you. Use it on the Seal by the tomb, and the way out of the castle will open for you.” Logan whirled. Thomas stood behind him, seemingly appearing from nowhere. “Now you must take your leave. You will return here once you have gathered enough followers to unlock the next gate. Virgil and Patton will lead wherever you follow. With luck, the rest of Albion will one day do the same.” Logan glanced down at the gauntlet. When he looked up, Thomas was gone again.

Loan spent a solid minute or two flexing his fingers and otherwise fiddling with the gauntlet before he noticed the Portal standing in front of the next gate. He approached it and, after a glance behind him at the strange place he was leaving, stepped through. 

The shock of finding himself back in the mausoleum, standing on the Seal nonetheless, made him wobbly. Virgil and Patton stood in front of him and saw him lose his balance. 

“Logan, are you alright? Do you feel any different?” Patton asked. 

Logan shrugged, shaken from his encounter. “I-I don’t know.”

Virgil inhaled as Logan’s hands lifted. “Patton, look,” he said. 

Patton took one look at the gauntlet on Logan’s hand and grinned. “By the gods, when did that get there?” He stepped forward and bent down to look at it. His eyes glinted in such a way that Logan was certain he knew what it was for. Sure enough, Patton said, “Try casting a spell. It’s supposed to be our only way out of here." 

Virgil grimaced. "You could have mentioned that sooner, Patton." 

"And spoil the surprise?" 

Logan just sighed heavily, then looked down at the gauntlet on his hand. The idea of being trapped didn’t appeal to him; he could already sense the air going sour. That alone gave him the courage to hold his hand out in front of him and focus. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was focusing on, but it seemed to matter little; several seconds passed before he felt the gauntlet grow warm, almost hot. A fire bloomed on his hand and he jerked away reflexively, sending it to the floor. The Guild Seal he stood on began to glow. 

As Patton laughed in amazement, the floor between the tombs began to slide open, parting to reveal a hidden staircase leading under the statue. "Good heavens, you did it! You really 

 a Hero!” Patton cried. 

“

 never doubted you for a second,” Virgil muttered, glaring at Patton briefly. Logan caught a small grin on his face as Patton sputtered to correct himself. 

“Neither did I,” he swore, “but there’s a difference between knowing and seeing, Virgil. Let’s carry on, it won’t be long before Declan realizes we’re gone. If he’s smart, this is the first place he’ll look." 

Logan wondered, as they descended the staircase and he heard it shut behind them, if Declan had known he was a Hero. If he had, why hadn’t he tried to have him killed? Logan hated to think about things like that, but logically speaking, a ruler would be better off if they disposed of opposition early on. Especially opposition as dangerous as the Heroes of old supposedly were. 

When he voiced his concerns, Virgil slowed to match his pace and put a hand on his shoulder. "You must remember, your brother wasn’t always a tyrant. He did and does love you, in his own twisted way. That’s not to say we aren’t doing the right thing by leaving, but I doubt he could bring himself to harm you." 

"Either way, soon it won’t matter,” Patton called back. His voice echoed in the narrow tunnel. “We just have to get out of here and we can get to work. Armies don’t build themselves, you know.” He had to turn sideways at one point to avoid colliding with the walls, and visibly shuddered. “Blast, couldn’t your father have made this tunnel a little wider? There’s nothing around down here except dirt. It’s dark here, too." 

Logan and Virgil shared a glance, but neither replied. Patton kept muttering to himself as the tunnel evened out, a dim light filtering from what appeared to be the exit. The light was far too bright to be starshine, but too dark to be sunlight. 

The trio came through the hole, for that is what it was, and stopped, staring around in awe. They had come into a massive cavern, several hundred feet wide and high. They stood atop a cliff, overlooking a serene lake that stretched half the chasm. Patton sighed in relief. "That’s better,” he said. “This is what a proper royal escape system ought to look like!" 

Virgil rolled his eyes and left the other two to scramble after him as he began to walk along the path again. "I dread asking, but what exactly is our plan?” He directed the question at Patton.

“Simple. We need to stop Declan." 

Logan flexed his fingers again. "How am I supposed to do that? Even if I am a Hero, I’m only one person, and the second born at that." 

Patton turned to look at him. "Which is why we need to find allies. Once the people of Albion know what you are, what you can do, many will follow you, and many will be willing to fight. This kingdom needs nothing less than a revolution, and the people know it." 

Up ahead, Virgil came to a halt and yelled, "Bats! Take cover!” He crouched and put his hands over his head. 

Logan looked up to see a swarm of the little creatures rushing at them. He assumed they were merely frightened, until one of them scratched his face with its claws. On impulse, he shoved his arm in front of him, surprising himself when a fireball shot out of the gauntlet, killing the offending little beast. 

“Your first real attack,” Patton cried, drawing his sword. “Well, young Hero, let’s see what you can do!” He began to swing at the horde of bats surrounding him.

Fireball after fireball, Logan brought the creatures down. It seemed the attack went on for ages, when in reality it was barely a minute. Once the bats realized they were being slaughtered, many of them fled, flying too high to be caught and soaring away behind them. Patton helped Virgil straighten, checking him for injuries.

“I hope those repugnant, dirty little beasts are the worst we’ll find in here,” Virgil muttered, shaking away Patton’s searching hands. “I can’t imagine how they got here to begin with, but I don’t think your father would stock his escape route with hobs and skeletons and things of that sort." 

Patton beckoned, and they continued on, though Logan noted he kept his sword out. The thought did not bother him; he knew that Patton, being a former war hero as he was, liked to be prepared. 

The group made their way through the cavern, winding ever deeper into the earth. Several times, they had to fend off more bats, and every time Patton would tend to Virgil afterwards. It dawned on Logan, the third time he witnessed this, that Virgil was obviously scared of bats, and that he and Patton must be old friends. He realized with a start that he didn’t know as much about them as he thought he had. The two bantered easily, in a way that reminded him of the nobles he’d seen flirting at court. 

Eventually, they came upon a massive half tube laid into the ground, one that stank heavily. "Might want to cover your noses,” Patton said. “This is Bowerstone’s sewers." 

Virgil coughed. "I daresay we must be under Bowerstone Industrial; what an unusual stench." 

Patton inclined his head. "You’re probably right. Not the safest place for us right now, but once we reach the surface we can find a way out of the city." 

Logan, glancing about them, figured it would not be so simple. And when they came into another huge room with no exit, he knew he was right. 

The cavern continued on into the distance, though the platform they stood on ended several yards ahead, railing preventing accidental falls. Both sides of the platform were covered by dozens of lit candles, casting a soft glow on the space. At the end was a small raised circle with another Guild Seal on it. 

"It’s a dead end!” Virgil groaned. 

Patton shook his head. “Not quite. I believe this is a cullis gate. Heroes used to use them for transportation." 

Virgil’s eyes widened. "I thought all of the cullis gates were gone." 

"It would appear not. Your father must have put this one here in case he ever needed to use it.” Patton looked out at the cavern. “This must be the way out." 

Virgil looked down at the floor. "The Guild Seal is on it. Do you suppose it’s activated the same way as the one before?" 

Patton shrugged. "Only one way to find out. Logan, you know what to do." 

He did. He climbed onto the raised surface. With less than a thought, he sent a ring of fire into the ground around him. He heard a faint ringing noise, then darkness covered his vision. 

When he began to be able to see again, he realized they had been transported. They now stood in a circular room. Across from him, several closed doors led to other areas. Off to one side stood a shelf built into the wall, with a dog bed next to it. Directly in front of him was a map table similar to the one in the War Room at the castle. Behind him, a tiny raised platform contained another in-ground Guild Seal. 

Patton and Virgil were at either side of him. Patton looked wary, while poor Virgil had fallen over and now lay on the ground to his right. 

"What is this place?” Logan asked. 

Patton took a few steps forward. “You know, it must be… it’s your father’s Sanctuary. He spoke of it often, but I never thought it was a real place.” He walked over to the map table and picked up a book. “Virgil… this book is addressed to you." 

Virgil, who had managed to sit up, now struggled to his feet. "To me? That’s not possible." 

"It has your name on it. He must have left it here for you.” Patton passed him the book, and he flipped through it. 

“It appears to be a guide book, telling us how to use the Sanctuary. According to the book, this table functions as a teleporter. Simply select where you want to go and the map will take you there, provided you’ve been there before. How astonishing.” Virgil kept reading, lost to the world as he took in how this new location could help them. 

“Where are we supposed to go now?” Logan asked. He ran a hand over the fake ocean on the map, watching how the torchlight made the water appear to ripple. 

“The Dweller mountains,” Patton said. “I’ll explain on the way. Virgil, are you staying?" 

Virgil looked up from his book and nodded. "Yes, that would probably be best. I’ll best be able to assist you both here. I’m no warrior.” He looked surprised when Patton crossed the table and gave him a hug, but did his best to accommodate. Logan thought it looked ridiculous. 

“Alright,” Patton announced finally, pulling away. “Logan, take us to the mountains, if you will." 

Logan stepped around the pair and gazed down at the mountains, wondering how the map would know where to send them. Upon closer examination, he noticed a small platform built into the mountains with a tent on it. It looked like a spring-loaded button. Very carefully, because he did not want to break anything, he tried to press down on it. 

It gave way with a satisfying click, and Logan saw swirls of bright light appear around himself, Cat, and Patton. Cat, who had settled on the dog bed, barked in alarm as his master disappeared, then again as he did, too. 

Before his vision cleared and the ringing in his ears stopped, Logan was aware of the bitter cold. The wind was blowing around him, lending itself to the chill seeping into his bones, but that was not the source. As the dark spots began to clear, he saw Cat digging through a pile of snow while Patton watched on in amusement. Logan stepped off of the Seal he was standing on and joined his companions. “Is it always so cold here?”

Patton said, “We’ll get you some proper attire once we reach their village. Come on.” 

The trio set off at a brisk pace down the mountainside. While they walked, Patton kept speaking. “The Dwellers have lived in these mountains for generations. They are a noble people. And they hate Declan’s guts.” 

“How are we supposed to convince them to help us?” Logan asked. Cat pushed his head into a snowbank nearby. 

“Sabine is a proud old sod,” Patton admitted, “but I think I can convince him, if it means getting your brother off of the throne.” 

The little path down the mountain led them to a quiet little nook between two slopes. At the far end, a wall of pointy tree trunks barricaded a large tent. Logan could see campfires set up here and there. The camp’s inhabitants, no doubt the Dwellers, were pale and thin. Many simply sat or knelt in the snow, too tired or hungry to do much else. The children that ran about were scrawny, their faces unusually wary for their ages. 

The Dwellers all stopped what they were doing and stared at them as Patton led Logan up to the tree wall. Two men stood outside, and upon seeing Patton, they straightened. Patton inclined his head, then turned to Logan. "It’s probably best if I talk to Sabine alone, first. He won’t take kindly to royalty tromping around if I don’t explain before-hand. Here.“ Patton fished out a small pouch of coins and passed it to Logan. “There’s 500 gold pieces un here. Go buy yourself a new outfit,” he instructed. “I’m sure someone around here will be willing to take that coin off your hand. Meet me back up here once you’ve spoken to the Dweller some.” Patton turned and spoke a few quiet words to the men at the gate, then disappeared between them, leaving Logan alone. 

Logan turned around and walked back down the hill, occasionally meeting the eyes of the Dwellers he walked past. Toward the center of the encampment he spotted a caravan with a few things on display. Bottles of potions lined one side of the caravan, while a mannequin stood opposite. On the mannequin were a bandanna, vest, gloves, pants, and boots, all covered in fur. Logan approached the man standing nearby. “Excuse me,” he said. “How much for the clothing?” 

The Dweller looked up, eyes widening as he took in Logan’s attire. "100 gold pieces, sir.” 

Logan opened his pouch and silently counted out the coins, handing them over without hesitation. “Here you are,” he said. The man took the coins, then pulled the clothes off of the mannequin and pointed Logan toward a little room in the back where he could change. As he folded his old clothes up, he heard the man talking and the clink of coins passing hands. He came out to see the man handing the money out to various children, with only a small pile set aside for himself. The children looked ecstatic, skipping around and shouting. Seeing how happy they were about even such small amounts was Logan’s first hint that the people outside of Bowerstone Castle had been suffering more than he had ever been told. 

He quietly slipped out of the tent, noticing more eyes on him. Several kids ran past, genuinely happy now, finally looking as young as they truly were. One child, he noticed, came to a stop in front of a woman sitting on the ground. After what was clearly a great internal struggle, the little girl leaned down and pressed the coins she had into the woman’s hand and then ran off. The woman looked after her like she might cry. 

Without stopping to think, Logan began moving through the camp, rounding up the children he saw. Many were cautious about approaching him, but eventually he had a tight knot around him. He crouched down and pulled out his money pouch, noting the way the children watched it. He quickly separated what was left in the pouch between the children, explaining to them what he wanted them to do. As they nodded and began to split off, he put a finger to his lips to signal silence. Once the children had dispersed, he stood again and made the trek back up the hill to the fence. 

Sir Patton stood outside waiting for him. As Logan came up to him, a boy sprinted by and disappeared through the gates, shouting something unintelligible. Patton grinned at his appearance. “The scruffy look suits you,” he said. “Come on, Sabine wants to speak with you. He’s very blunt, but he means no offense.” 

Inside the wall was a group of caravans in a loose circle. Many men and women stood near them, talking in hushed tones. The young boy who had run past them stood near an enormous man. Logan and Patton approached him, but he remained silent. 

“Out of the way, Boulder, I can’t see a thing.” 

The giant man took several steps to the right, revealing a short old man sitting on a high-backed wooden chair resembling a throne. The boy whispered something to the old man and then hurried off to one of the groups of adults near the edge of the wall. The old man eyed Logan suspiciously. “So, a noble has come to the Dwellers seeking aid. A Prince, no less. Sir Patton claims you are a Hero. Don’t much look the part, do you?” 

“Sabine!” Patton warned. “Hero or not, this is Prince Logan you speak of.”

Logan held up a hand. “It’s alright, Patton,” he said. He turned his gaze to Sabine. “We’re planning a revolution. We need the help of you and your people.” 

Sabine laughed. “Refreshingly honest for a royal. Whether you are a Hero or not remains to be seen. Even if I wanted to aid you, I cannot. My people are on the edge of starvation, and what hunters we have been able to send hunting often do not return. Your brother has pulled even more of my men to fight.” He crossed his arms and leaned forward, openly staring at Logan. “Though the children report to me that you gave them coin to pass out to my people, and a decent amount of it. I thank you for that.”

Patton looked over at him in surprise. Logan understood why; normally, he would not simply give away money on a whim like that. But Logan knew now that he had never truly seen the poverty the people were plagued by. 

Waving a hand, Sabine stood and limped over to them. “That action alone has made me reconsider, know that. I will lend you assistance, on three conditions. First, you must rid the valley of the mercenaries who plague us and steal our game. Second, you must convince the people of Brightwall Village to send us supplies. Third, you must prove you are a Hero. This is easily done; in Brightwall there is a treasure that supposedly only a Hero like your father could reach. Bring it to me. Accomplish all of these tasks, and the Dwellers will join your revolution.” He reached out and clapped Logan on the arm, then turned and disappeared into one of the caravans, effectively ending the conversation. 

Logan and Patton left the walled area of camp and trekked back down the hill. “I know the relic he was talking about,” Patton mentioned. “Your father is the one who put it there. It’s in a cavern under the library in Brightwall. The librarian there, Sam, was quite close with your father; he should let you go down. But first-” Patton turned and grabbed Logan’s shoulders, “-you need to take care of those mercenaries. You can’t waltz in looking like that, and you don’t have a weapon.”

“I may be able to help as far as weapons.” Logan looked around, but saw no one. “This is Virgil, sir. It would appear I can speak to you through the Guild Seal.” 

“Virgil?” Logan repeated. 

He heard a sigh. “Obviously. If you would be so kind as to return to the Sanctuary, I’ve found some things that may be able to help. Simply use your magic to will your way back, and you should appear in front of me. Or so the book claims, and it hasn’t proven wrong yet.” 

Patton was watching him, though not quizzically, which led Logan to the assumption that he’d seen his father communicate through the Seal before. “Go,” Patton said. “Get a weapon, then meet me at the tavern in Brightwall. I’ll try to come up with a plan while I wait.”

Logan closed his eyes and focused, picturing the Sanctuary and Virgil in his head. For a moment, he got so unbearably dizzy he feared he would fall over. When he opened his eyes, he stood in the Sanctuary.

“Ah, hello,” Virgil greeted him. “The dizziness will wear off momentarily, I think. If you’ll follow me, your father has left some rather amazing gifts for you in one of the rooms.” Virgil skirted around the map and climbed the stairs leading to the second room from the left. The symbol over the door was a sword and a rifle crossed over each other; an armory.

Logan let his vision return to normal before following him. The room he came into was still rather dusty in the corners, but what drew his attention was the small assortment of weapons. Three sets of mannequins lay in front of him, one in front and one to either side. The mannequins on either side were posed kneeling, offering their weapons to him. The ones in front of him were similarly kneeling, but these offered only a single hand to him. Logan knew instinctively these mannequins were for gauntlets. 

Virgil stood by the mannequins to his left, waiting. Of the four that occupied the alcove, two held weapons; one a sword and one a massive hammer. Logan came over to inspect them, finding himself almost immediately discarding the hammer in favor of the sword. “These were your father’s weapons, these and the guns over there. Apparently, they change over time, depending on how you use them. Extraordinary, isn’t it?” Logan pulled the sheath from the mannequin’s waist, fixed it onto his belt, then sheathed the sword at his hip. 

The guns were a more difficult choice. On the one hand, rifles were more long-distance and held more ammunition, though they were slower and took more time to reload. Pistols took less reload time and were faster, but held less ammo and required enemies to be closer. In the end, he chose the pistol, only because he knew he would be in close quarters in the mercenary encampment. 

"Be careful, Logan,” Virgil bade him earnestly. “Mercenaries are brutes. They will kill you if you don’t watch yourself." 

Logan tucked the pistol into its holster on his other hip. "You worry too much, Virgil,” he told him. “I’ve got Cat with me. I will be fine." 

Virgil just shook his head in clear exasperation. "Regardless,” he said. “At least try not to get blown to bits. That would look bad on my resume." 

"Did you just make a joke?”

“No one will ever believe you.” Virgil clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on, now. Sir Patton is undoubtedly waiting for you now.”

-

The trip to Brightwall Village was uneventful, for the most part. Logan discovered, by accident, that Cat was uncannily good at sniffing out buried items and treasures. He ought not have been surprised; Cat’s sire had been a mangy stray who was also very keen about treasure. 

The only real challenge that awaited man and dog on the journey was the wolves. The damned things lurked the mountains and the valley below, haunting the trees much like the mercenaries did. Luckily for Logan, the sword Virgil had provided from the armory was more than adequate in dispatching them, and his magic and Cat succeeded on the rare occasions he chose not to use the blade. 

Brightwall Village itself was a quaint little town surrounded by a very high wall and secluded by a river and bridge. Ever the strategist, Logan thought the set up was excellent for defense, which was likely why the town hadn’t seen the same harassment the Dweller camp had. After Cat sniffed around and deemed the village safe, Logan made his way in. 

Stalls lined the far end of the square, near the river. To his right lay the tavern and an odd little shop the sign announced was a pawn shop. Between the two lay a little dirt path leading off somewhere. To his left lay a blacksmith and more stalls, as well as a bridge leading to the rest of town. Cat seemed eager to explore, but Logan wrestled the beast over toward the tavern, where Sir Patton waited by the stairs leading to the tavern’s balcony. 

“There you are,” Patton said. “I was beginning to think the wolves had gotten you.”

Logan held out his right arm, showing his mentor two shallow half-moons from his first encounter with the wolves. “They almost did. Cat had to tear one off of me.”

“It brings me joy to know you two can handle your own for the most part. Now, your priority at the moment is getting the relic Sabine spoke of. The library is across the bridge at the top of the hill, it’s the biggest building in the village. There should be a fellow there by the name of Samuel. He knew your father. Tell him who you are and he’ll get you under the library.” Patton nodded behind him. “Meet me up there when you’ve got it. I’m going to try to figure out a way to convince these people to send supplies to the Dwellers." 

Logan processed the information Patton had given him, then turned and set off at a brisk pace across the village. He knew the people who stared at him were looking at his outfit, but he began to fear that one of them would recognize his face. He knew for a fact Declan wouldn’t dare put him on any posters; that would involve admitting he had failed to keep his younger brother in check. However, he also knew that these people would know his face, simply because he was their prince. 

The Brightwall Academy and Library was indeed the largest structure in this village, and therefore easy to locate. A sign on one of the massive front doors declared the place had been shut down. Logan vaguely remembered hearing Declan mention shutting down the Academy to cut costs, but it had never fully settled in that his brother had closed the closest thing this part of the kingdom had to a school. 

He pushed open the heavy wooden door and slipped inside, letting it fall shut behind him. To its credit, the door barely made a sound as it settled against the frame once more. He followed the long hallway until he came out into a large main room. An older man stood behind a counter, absentmindedly flipping through a book. From here, the Academy split off on each side, and then behind the counter. Cat wandered off to the left.

The man sounded utterly bored when he spoke. "The Academy is closed. We do not sell feed, alcohol, or anything else,” he droned. 

Logan cleared his throat politely. “Ahem." 

The man looked up and his eyes widened in astonishment. "By the heavens, an actual visitor,” he breathed. He gently shut the book and slid it to the side. “I am afraid that what I said is quite true, though. King Declan closed this place down many years ago. I’m a glorified janitor these days. But, I’m rambling. Er, how can I help you?" 

"I was told the old King has a relic somewhere under the library,” Logan said bluntly. “I need to get to it.” Cat barked once wherever he had gone, then came trotting back to his master with a book. Logan took it from him and set it down before Samuel (for that must be who this man was) could see. 

Samuel blinked, then shook his head. Not denying Logan, merely confused. “Not many know the King built a Reliquary below the Academy,” he admitted. He leaned forward, scrutinizing Logan carefully. “Who are you, sir?" 

Logan reached into his pack and carefully removed the Guild Seal, holding it out for Samuel to see. "My name is Logan. I’m his son,” he announced. The Seal glowed softly in his hands. 

“My goodness! I haven’t seen the Guild Seal in many years.” Samuel reached out to it, as if to touch it, then pulled his hand back. “If you’ll follow me, Your Highness, I’ll take you to the door.” He hurried out from behind the counter and unlocked the door at the back of the room. Logan skirted the counter and trailed after him, listening to him talk. “Your father built this place, you know. He was a great man, a kind and generous ruler to his people. I needn’t say the whole kingdom mourned when he passed.” He turned to the right and unlocked another door. “I greatly miss speaking with him when he came by for tea. I don’t suppose anyone is traveling with you?” 

Logan tucked the Seal under his arm as they came up to a massive double door. It was intricately crafted, with gears locked in a complicated pattern leading to an indentation in the center of the doors. He had a feeling he knew what went into the hole. “Sir Patton Bron is with me, actually. He waits in the tavern for me, if you wish to speak with him.” 

Samuel turned to face him, nodding gratefully. “Perhaps I will later,” he said. “I will close the Academy for the day, to lessen the chance of your being interrupted. But I can’t leave my post, and I can’t keep out the guards if they decide to look around.” 

“I appreciate it. Thank you, Samuel.” 

Samuel nodded again, then turned and hurried off, muttering under his breath about Patton. Logan turned to the door and let the Seal slide down his arm and into his hand. He positioned it the way he believed to be face up, then pushed it into the door. The old gears began to turn immediately, both doors swinging open with a loud screech the hurt his ears and made Cat whine and turn in circles. 

Having no room for delay, Logan pulled the Seal out of the door, tucked it back into his satchel, and stepped past the threshold, where a long set of dank stairs descended deep into the earth. 

The smell hit him first, decay and dirt. He nearly gagged, it was so strong. Cat raised raised his hackles and growled as they reached the bottom of the stairs. It was dark, but not unusually so. Logan hoped this would prove a simpler challenge that the castle’s escape tunnel. Of course it couldn’t be that simple, but he hoped nonetheless. 

The Reliquary ended up being a series of puzzles and traps. A few almost bested him, but with Cat’s help he managed to figure them out. Not that he would ever tell anyone a couple of puzzles (easy once he knew the solution) almost turned him back. 

The most interesting thing, perhaps, were the glowing orbs. Each had its own activation procedure. Logan learned, with Virgil’s assistance, that the blue ones were to be hit with his sword, the red ones needed magic, and the yellow required the use of a firearm. He was glad he had taken the pistol when he did; he still had not quite gotten the hang of traveling to and from the Sanctuary. 

Even worse was the sheer amount of enemies he encountered. No bats lurked down here, but there were plenty of skeletal creatures Virgil told him were called hollow men. The smaller ones were fairly easy to destroy, but the bigger ones needed several good whacks before they broke apart. 

There were several times he had to double back to find routes that weren’t collapsed. Once he even had to dive off a broken bridge and into a pool of water several yards below him. The whole time, he wondered about his father’s treasure. What was so important to him, so dangerous, that it had to be stored so far from the castle? 

Logan could honestly say he hadn’t the faintest idea. It took him so long to get through a small army of hollow men that by the time he saw a different sort of light from the dim torches he was used to, he almost thought he was hallucinating. 

After he wiped out the last of the hollow men, he came into a cavern so far across he couldn’t see the end. Again, there was a raised platform for him to walk along, which dropped into the abyss below. Similar to the castle’s escape route, at the end of the platform was a set of circular stairs leading up to a pedestal. Logan approached cautiously, the worry that his father had left something dangerous here only intensifying. 

Upon the pedestal was a small octagonal box, about as tall as his hands and rather heavy. There was a seam on the top that ran down the middle of it, and a handle on one side. He began to suspect he knew what it was. 

He had heard his father tell the story of his rise to power many times as a child. Every time, his father would say his journey had started with a rose and a music box. Logan and Declan both knew that he had had a sister named Rose, and that she had been murdered by a power-obsessed lord when he was still a child. A nomadic man called Thomas had found him, gravely wounded, and raised him with the help of his caravan. They didn’t know much beyond that; their father never told them the whole story before he died, and Logan had combed the entire library for written accounts and found nothing. It was a mystery that would likely never be solved. 

What he did recall, was how his father used to whistle sometimes to get him or Declan to sleep. Now, he wondered if the music box had taught him that tune. He grasped the handle and wound it up three times, like his father had always said Rose had. 

The old familiar melody washed over him as the box began to play, a haunting song that reverberated in his ears and brought tears to his eyes. 

As the tune faded away, he noticed that the box was glowing. He shut his eyes just in time for his feet to be lifted off of the ground. 

When he was set back down, he opened his eyes to find Samuel staring at him in awe. He was back in the Academy’s foyer. He took a step and felt his legs threaten to buckle. He would never get used to teleporting, he decided. 

Samuel stared at him for a long moment before putting a finger to his lips and returning to his book. Logan gently tucked the music box into his pack and left without a word. He never figured out if Samuel had signaled silence because of guards or because he was enjoying his book. 

It took no time at all to reach the tavern, now that he knew where he was going. Up the stairs he went, calling for Patton. “I’ve got it!” He announced, sweeping through the door triumphantly. 

Patton sat at a small table to his left, next to a man slumped over the table. Logan wouldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.. “Hello, Logan,” Patton said cheerfully. “I’ve figured out how to get you into the mercenary camp!" 

Logan set his bag on the table. "Please tell me he’s still alive." 

"Of course. He’s just had too much to drink. Challenge a man to a drinking contest, let him think he’s going to win, and he took care of the rest himself.” Patton patted the man’s back. “You’re going to take his clothes and sneak into the camp disguised as him." 

”…What?“ 

Patton tossed the man’s hat at him. "You’ll need a fake beard but there’s a barber across town who should be willing to help. I’ve been talking to the townsfolk. They don’t have much aid to give, they’re barely surviving themselves. While you’re gone I’m going to be figuring out a way to help the Dwellers and these people, too." 

Logan just shook his head. How very Patton of him, to try and help everyone. He wondered if that came from his time serving his father in battle. 

It took a while to convince the barber to help him but he ended up back at the tavern with a shoddy patchwork beard attached to his face. It was extremely itchy. 

He felt like there was something inherently wrong about stealing another man’s clothing, but even he couldn’t see any other option. They outfit was slightly baggy on him; he only hoped this man’s friends wouldn’t notice. 

"Before you go,” Patton started. He looked more serious than Logan had ever seen him. “I don’t expect you to get all the way to their leader without being discovered. But you should know that killing a man is a heavy burden to bear. It haunts even the toughest of men, and I had hoped you would never hold a bloody sword. Think carefully before you take any lives, today and in the future." 

Logan nodded. "I will,” he promised. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Patton had seen in his lifetime, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. As he trotted down the stairs, Cat came racing over, barking at him. He held out his hand for his dog to sniff, then flipped his hand over quickly and tucked his ring and pinky fingers into his palm. Cat obeyed the command, sinking down on his haunches. “Good boy. Come." 

It was nearing night now, probably the ideal time for him to do this. He had some idea where the mercenaries fort was, having seen an imposing structure out on the lake earlier as he walked to Brightwall. He went to it now. 

He had no idea of the time when he got to the gate; it was a moonless night. A man on top of the wall called down to him. "Oi, there you are, Jimmy! Was beginning to think you’d be gone all night!" 

Logan raised a hand in greeting as the man yelled something to someone inside. The gate lifted just enough for him to duck through. It closed behind him with a clang. He immediately began walking toward the next gate. Nobody tried to stop him, which led him to believe that Jimmy wasn’t as free with his words as with his liquor. 

The guards at this gate stopped to scrutinize him, but let him through in the end. He knew he wouldn’t make it much further, and began plotting how to distract the guards up ahead so he could slip through. 

It seemed that word of a potential imposter reached the next gate before he did. They were alert, rifles ready. Thinking quickly, he ducked behind a tree and tried to launch a fireball at one of them. The flames hit a barrel nearby, which exploded and flung them both to the ground. 

He took off at a sprint, sliding under the gate as it creaked open on the other side. Cat was behind him a way, and he heard barking and yelling. His faithful companion found him again with blood on his muzzle. "Come on, boy,” he whispered. The pair kept running, Logan slinging fireballs at every barrel he saw. Some only caught fire, but others exploded as intended. Soon the entire camp was in chaos, and more than a few burned corpses and injured men were on the ground. He felt sick every time Cat attacked someone, or when he had to draw his sword and defend himself, but there was nothing to be done about it now. 

A large, circular wall came into view as he neared what he judged to be the end of the camp. The gate on this one was open. Several torches were lit here, with no barrels in site. A nasty feeling crept over Logan, and he silently commanded Cat to stay out of sight and wait. Cat trotted behind a tree and laid down. 

Logan, whether foolishly or fearlessly, walked straight up to the gate and right through. It fell shut behind him with a loud thud. 

The surviving mercenaries, ones who had been asleep or run away, crowded the tops of what he now realized was supposed to be a cage. Directly across from him was a man easily a foot and a half taller than him, and twice as muscular. He was an ugly brute, scarred and bald. He was smoking a cigar. 

“Ya killed some o’ me best men,” the giant yelled. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and dropped it, crushing it underfoot as he fell into a fighting stance. “I ain’t lettin’ ya get away, ya bastard!" 

Up above them, Logan heard cheering and several shouts as the men cheered their leader on. Through the noise, Logan discovered his opponent was called Captain Saker. 

Saker charged him and he scrambled back. He may have been decent with his sword, but hand to hand combat was not his forte. As he backed away, Saker pulled something from his pocket and lit it. It was a Molotov. Logan barely moved out of the way before it exploded. 

When it finally dawned on Logan that Saker intended to fight dirty, a realization that struck him as three of Saker’s men dropped into the ring with them, he pulled his gun out. It was too close quarters for the sword, but with the pistol and his magic, he proved to be an even match with Saker. 

The fight didn’t last much longer than that. Once Logan blew a Molotov up as Saker threw it at him, the force of the blast knocked the giant to his knees. He did not try to get back up. Logan approached him cautiously. 

"Ya win,” Saker announced. “Kill me or not, my men won’t bother them Dwellers no more, ya have my word." 

Logan would be lying if he said he didn’t entertain the thought of killing this man. But then he thought of the destruction around him, and all the lives he’d taken to get where he was. He simply couldn’t. He held out a hand to help Saker to his feet. His men cheered.

As soon as Saker was up, the breeze stopped. Logan’s vision went greyscale. A shimmery patch of air appeared behind Saker. "Come to me, Logan.” The voice belonged to Thomas. 

Logan stepped through the portal without hesitation. He was beginning to understand how this man could potentially be of use to him. 

He came out, as he expected, on the Road to Rule, outside of the locked gate. Thomas stood in front of him. 

“You have shown great courage today, Logan,” Thomas said. “You have spared lives, and taken them. You have gained a potential ally, one who is very powerful in and of himself. The Dwellers are willing to follow you, should you prove yourself to them." 

Logan couldn’t help but blurt out the first thing that came to his mind. "You knew my father, didn’t you?” He asked. 

Thomas just looked at him a moment before answering. “Yes, I did. I raised him after his sister’s death.” He seemed genuinely distraught. 

“But that would make you over 80 years old,” Logan thought aloud. 

“I am far older than that. Now, there is no more time for questions. Step through the gate, Logan.” He vanished. 

The gate slid open silently, revealing 6 chests. Logan read the inscriptions on the 2 to his left, then discarded them in favor of the other side. Three were labeled as upgrades for his weapons and magic. The fourth, closest to the next gate, simply said “Shock." 

Logan chose to open this chest first, though he felt like he might be able to open one more as well. Inside was another gauntlet, this one suited for his left hand. He tugged it on and felt the hairs on his neck and arms stand up. Carefully, he walked to the edge of the path and lifted his left arm, reaching for the power. 

A bolt of lightning shot through his hand and arched away into the air, nearly throwing him back with the sheer force of it. He grinned. Lightning! This would be immensely helpful. 

The return back to the camp left Logan dizzy, as usual. Saker was standing right where he had been. As soon as Logan was steady, the world resumed around him. Saker clapped him on the back, and Cat came hurtling through the gate to jump on his master. 

Logan left Saker and his men to clean the mess he’d left in favor of returning to Brightwall as soon as he could. Dawn was turning the sky grey as he crossed the bridge and hurried to the tavern. 

Patton and Sam were sitting at the balcony table, chatting. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. "Logan!” Patton cried, looking him over. “You look like you’ve been to hell and back, kiddo. Did you do what needed to be done?" 

He dropped into the empty chair and nodded. "Saker lives, but many of his men didn’t survive,” he explained. 

Samuel balked. “You left their leader alive? Are you mad?” He asked. 

Patton raised his hand. “Hush, Samuel. Let him explain,” he insisted. Both of the men turned to him. “Well, Logan?" 

"I was going to kill him,” Logan said uncomfortably. “I know I was supposed to. But it didn’t seem right, not after defeating him. It felt like leading a lamb to slaughter." 

Patton grinned, clearly proud. "I’ve brought you up right,” he told him. “Now, Samuel here has been helping me brainstorm, and we think we’ve come up with a way to help the Dwellers. Samuel?" 

"As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Your Highness,” Samuel started, “we don’t exactly have an overabundance of resources ourselves. However, I’ve been speaking to the villagers. They are all willing to help the Dwellers, on the condition that you repay their generosity once you claim the throne from your brother. They want the Academy reopened, and less crops taken by taxmen." 

Logan considered his proposal, then nodded. Not because he needed their support enough to lie, but because he genuinely thought it would be possible to achieve. "You have a deal, Samuel." 

They shook on it. "Then let’s get supplies to our friends in the mountains, yes?”

Logan, Patton, and a handful of village men scrounged together about 4 cases of spare supplies. The trek back up to the camp proved to be perilous only by way of an ice storm that had hit the mountains overnight. One man slipped and nearly fell off the cliff, and was only spared nature’s wrath because Cat knocked into his leg and pushed him away from the edge. 

Midday had passed by the time they got back to the camp. The village men followed Logan and Patton as they led the way to Sabine’s caravan. Behind them grew a cluster of Dwellers, curiously eyeing the crates. 

The crates made satisfying thuds as the men dropped them near the gate. Logan thanked them, gave them each a few coins, and they were on their way again. 

Patton went ahead of Logan as the latter wrestled the music box from his pack. He heard Sabine yelling something to his people, loud cheering from behind him. Several hands grabbed him and pushed him up to Sabine’s chair. He did not appreciate the invasion of privacy, but he tried to understand their excitement. 

Sabine had his fingers steepled as he watched Logan finally pull the box free. Knowing potential allies examined him from every angle, he bowed as far as tradition allowed him as he presented Sabine the music box, in acknowledgement of an equal. The people yelled even louder, and Sabine cracked a smile. 

“Play it for me,” he requested. “Only the old King was ever able to make it work." 

Logan locked eyes with Patton, who gave a little nod. He knew what his mentor would be saying if he could, about how this was his chance to prove he was his father’s son. He straightened, grasped the handle, and turned it three times. 

That haunting tune began to play, ringing out clearly even above the yelling and celebrating. The audience quieted down quickly, hanging onto to every note the same was Logan had first done. Everyone in the kingdom knew the legends behind how his father rose to power, how important this unassuming little box had been. Hearing such a legendary object, seeing it, was something these people would tell their children, passed down for generations. 

As the box played its final chord, silence fell over the camp. The only noise for a long time was Cat shuffling over near Boulder. 

Finally, Sabine stood. Slowly he made his way to Logan, coming to a stop in front of him. Then the Dweller chief nodded. "You will make a fine ruler, Your Majesty." 

Logan was so used to hearing the honorific used for Declan that he almost turned to look for him. It was all he could do to keep a steady face as he and Sabine shook hands. Somewhere in the crowd, a baby laughed. 

Several hours later, after getting some much needed rest, Patton and Logan were at the entrance to camp. The Dwellers were still celebrating, periodically coming up to Logan to bless him and bow. Some women were crying, and several of his little helpers from before came up to hug him. 

"Where to now?” Logan asked Patton quietly. 

Patton chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought. “I have a few more people I’d like to try and contact to help us. We’ll be going on the Mistpeak Monorail system to visit an old friend of mine first." 

-

Logan looked around, watching the men finish their preparations. A small group nearby was burying someone; Logan had heard someone say the poor sod had only died the night before. More people were hurrying around, hastily repairing sections of the fort’s walls.

Since they had left the Dweller camp two days ago, it had been a whirlwind of activity. The Mistpeak monorail, which they had intended to get on to go to Bowerstone, had met an unfortunate end almost as soon as they had arrived at the station to board it. The thing had caught on fire, fallen off its track, and plummeted hundreds of feet to the ground, where it promptly exploded. Logan and Patton had gone down to look for survivors (the cars has been full), but they had found only flames and nasty, twisted creatures called hobbs. 

It had been a struggle to get out of the caves, but at the end of the tunnel Logan had been taken again to the Road to Rule, where Thomas had told him his immediate willingness to help was indicative of a just ruler. Logan had found a special gauntlet that allowed him to wear two gauntlets at once, creating devastating combo spells. His current favorite was fire and lightning, though fire and ice was also useful. 

The end of the tunnel had spat them out in Mourningwood. Patton had seemed surprised, then concerned. Logan had had to run to keep up with his mentor’s fast pace. Along the way, Patton had explained that he had an old military friend stationed in a fort here, and that he hadn’t heard from him in a long time. The path they took was winding, often backtracking. Logan found several health vials and a massive hammer Virgil called the Bonesmasher among the many chests tucked off to the sides of the path.

The fort itself had seemed surprisingly tall at first, several stories high. Logan would always remember how a man, later introduced as Major Swift, had yelled at them, ordering to state their names and ranks. Specifically, how frightened the man had sounded.

Major Swift, currently, was talking to Patton nearby. The major had been extremely happy to see his old friend, but Logan had the feeling there was more going on than just guarding a musty old fort. 

“This is really all they could send for reinforcements?” A young man’s voice near Logan’s ear made him start and turn. His sword was against the man’s throat before he even knew what was happening. 

The man he had just accidentally threatened was tall, taller than even him. He had a mess of dark brown hair and dark eyes that were, at the moment, wide with shock. He wore a tattered soldier’s uniform with a pistol and a blade strapped to his hips. 

He heard Patton laughing. “Roman Finn,” Major Swift barked, “how many times must I tell you to stop sneaking up on people?” 

The man, Roman Finn, stepped back and shrugged sheepishly. “One more, I suppose,” he said. He looked Logan up and down. “Clearly you can handle a blade, but why the hell couldn’t the King be bothered to send more than two men?” 

“We weren’t sent by the King,” Logan said tersely. He sheathed his weapon and went to stand by Patton. This young man reminded him, somehow, of Eliot. It made his chest ache.

Roman crossed his arms over his chest. “A boy and some old man, just wandering through Mourningwood near nightfall?” he scoffed. “A likely story.”

“You have the privilege of speaking to Sir Patton Bron, Finn,” Major Swift told him.

Logan was impressed by how quickly Roman snapped into a soldier’s salute at Patton’s name. “Sir Patton? Truly? It’s an honor, Sir Bron,” he said. 

“Please, Patton will do just fine, son. The young man who nearly beheaded you is Logan,” Patton introduced. Logan nodded his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Patton and Swift exchange a glance, and Swift nod slightly. “He is my protege, King Declan’s younger brother, and future ruler of Albion.” 

Roman’s shock was almost enough to make Logan forgive him for sneaking up on him. Almost. “The prince?” 

Major Swift cut in then. “Hate to interrupt, but we’re nowhere near ready for tonight’s assault. Patton, Logan, I’m afraid it won’t be safe for you to leave until morning. The hollow men will be here soon.” 

“Hollow men?” Logan asked. 

“We’ve been attacked by hollow men every night for ages,” Roman explained. “It used to just be a few, but now they’re coming in waves. More men die every time the sun goes down.” 

Major Swift nodded. “Ay. We lost Simmons last night, damn good man he was. If you don’t want to fight, I suggest you take shelter down in the bunkers, but I can’t let you leave until the sun comes up.” 

Patton laughed, clapping Swift on the shoulder. “Come on, you should know me better than that! I haven’t turned down a fight in thirty years, I’m not about to start now. Logan and I are happy to help, just tell us where to be.” Part of Logan resented not having a say in the matter, but the rest of him knew he would have agreed to help if asked.

“Wonderful. With you on our side, Bron, I don’t see how we can lose. Roman, take Logan up and show him how to use the mortar. We haven’t got long, now.”

Roman saluted again and motioned for Logan to follow him. As he scrambled to follow, he took a moment to appreciate that Swift hadn’t made a huge deal of his status as the prince. All were equal within the fort, it seemed. “There’s three mortars up on the walls, two facing the graveyard and one the way you can,” Roman explained as they walked. “Have you dealt with hollow men before?” 

“Under Brightwall,” Logan told him. 

People stopped them several times on the way up, asking Roman questions about the barricades. A few introduced themselves to Logan, but nobody appeared to know who he was. He was unsure whether that was because he had rarely ever left Bowerstone, or merely because of how dirty he was. 

"Working the mortars is fairly simple. You’ll have a man to load for you, all you need to do is aim and fire.” The mortar was nothing unfamiliar to Logan; Patton had been extensive in his combat training, thought they’d only spent a day on cannons and the like. “Lucky for us. Don’t need some royal pomp blowing the gate in,” Roman muttered under his breath. Logan got the idea he wasn’t supposed to hear that. 

Logan took his position behind the mortar, giving it a few experimental twists to get the hang of its weight. “Heavier than the ones back home,” he commented. 

Roman looked surprised, but he didn’t react beyond saying “You’ve got your feet wrong.” He came over and nudged one of Logan’s feet just a bit to the side. It put them far too close together than was proper, but Logan figured that was just how things were in the king’s army. 

They spent some amount of time going over how to fire the mortar, Roman doing most of the talking. He talked about the battles he and the rest of the men had fought, what sorts of games they played when they got bored. Logan didn’t mind; he much preferred listening, truth be told. One gained much more information that way. And if he were to be completely honest, he found it interesting hearing about the lives of the soldiers. Roman had a way of talking that made everyone around him want to listen. He was very animated, using his whole body to talk and doing impressions of the people he spoke about. Logan began to suspect, listening to him, that the Royal Guard hadn’t been this man’s first career choice. 

Day was just beginning to fall into twilight when another man, barely a boy, came to them. He introduced himself as Logan’s loader on the mortar, but Logan could never remember his name later. 

The boy said that Major Swift had sent the call for supper. Roman became solemn as he led Logan back down to the ground. The men were standing gathered around an unlit fire, passing bowls of stew around until everyone had one. It was incredibly bland, but Logan made no comment. Patton had told him once that Declan’s men did what they could with what they had. 

Everyone ate in silence, the only sounds the scraping of spoons on bowls and the occasional cough. When an owl somewhere beyond the fort let out a hoot, the first sound of night, Major Swift wordlessly held up a hand. The group stopped and looked at him. 

“Gentlemen,” he began. The men stirred, waiting with bated breath. “I am pleased to announce that tonight we have the honor of fighting beside Sir Patton Bron and his protege. Many of you know Bron and I fought together many years ago; he is highly skilled. His apprentice, he tells me, is one of the best with a sword he’s ever seen. With them at our side, I truly believe we will drive those damned hollow men back tonight. Not for good, but enough that we might sleep tomorrow.” 

He looked around, locked eyes with each and every man. Patton stepped forward and raised his arm into a King’s Guard salute. Roman followed suit. It had a ripple effect of sorts; the salute traveled the circle, each soldier letting out a war cry until dozens of voices filled the air. Logan added his own yell to the fray. If he was going to fight beside these men, he would act the same as these men. 

A loud crash sent some of the men scrambling. Swift shouted above the din, calling for positions. Roman caught Logan’s wrist and yanked him toward the stairs. “They’re coming!” He hollered. All around, Logan saw chaos as people prepared for battle. Patton had his sword drawn and was guarding one of the gates. Their eyes met and he nodded. Logan nodded back.

The boy from before was already loading the mortar when they got to it, throwing ammo into it with surprising strength. Roman jumped onto the mortar next to Logan’s, wearing a grin Logan could only define as feral. Oddly enough, the expression suited him. 

Out in the graveyard, movement caught his eye. Hollow men began to burst forth from the earth, many already holding weapons. Immediately, Roman fired at a cluster. It exploded into dust, bone shards scattering. 

Logan twisted his own to the left, where Roman’s range didn’t quite reach. The mortar’s kick nearly threw him down as he fired, but he braced his feet and prepared for a long battle. 

He lost track of time as the fight raged on. He knew, at one point, that he abandoned his post to launch over the wall rail, into the fort, to help a downed soldier. He knew that the hollow men broke through their defenses at that exact moment. He knew Roman had called out to him as he heard the gate give way. He knew that Patton and Swift were taking turns hacking down foes at the opposite gate. He knew that Roman landed next to him, rolling into a crouch that brought them face to face. He knew the other man had winked at him before standing and turning to take out a hollow man. He knew they worked together to get the fallen man out of harm’s way. He knew he took many hits with blunt objects and small blades.

He knew that Patton and Swift got surrounded, and surely would have been seriously injured had he not impulsively thrown a shard of lightning at the horde around them. He knew several men stopped and stared at him as he gave his identity away. 

More than anything, however, he remembered the rumble in the ground as the hollow men’s onslaught began to dwindle. He found out very quickly that Simmons, the soldier who had died the night before, had been a very large man. He had been a good fighter, too. Logan spent a long time after the fight wondering how he had survived it; Simmons could have taken down Patton, even in his newly resurrected form. 

Magic helped immensely, he figured. He remembered shooting Simmons with fireballs, a lot of them, until his energy was depleted. He remembered Cat ripping the dead soldier’s arm off and running away with it. He remembered being down on one knee, Simmons’ re-killed corpse in front of him. He remembered several faces above him as he finally caved to exhaustion, pink streaks of dawn sky making it impossible to tell who he saw. 

He was only unconscious for a few hours, Patton told him later. Roman had carried him down to the barracks while Swift and Patton had taken care of the injured. When he came to in a bed, Roman was sitting on a bed nearby, whittling a stick into a sharp point. Logan assumed he was merely keeping him company, but Roman grinned when he noticed he was awake. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he teased. He put his knife away and tested the stick with his thumb. “‘Bout time you woke up. You had ol’ Swiftie pretty worried.” 

Logan struggled into a sitting position. His throat was almost too dry to speak. “What are you doing here?” He rasped. “Where is Patton?” 

Roman shrugged. “Figured someone ought to be here when you wake up. I volunteered, since you sat and let me ramble last night. You’re an alright person, Your Highness.” Logan flinched slightly at the honorific, always aware of the danger it now held. “Sir Bron is helping topside. We had a lot of injuries last night.”

He helped him change into a spare soldier’s uniform and climb out of the barracks, leading him to a fallen log where he could see the goings-on of the fort. Patton was kneeling near a figure on the ground across the way, while Swift shook his head. “I’ll go get him for you,” Roman offered, disappearing before Logan could tell him not to. 

Cat found him quickly, barking and trying to jump on him. He hushed the dog and sunk his fingers into his fur.

“You’re the Prince, aren’t you?” A nearby voice muttered. Logan turned to see a man leaning against another log across the campfire, head bandaged. “Everyone knows only the Hero King ever used magic like what’s you used.” 

Logan looked around, wondering if this soldier knew he was on the run. “Yes, I am,” he said finally. 

The man waited, but Logan said no more. He nodded, as though he had learned all he needed to know from that silence. Perhaps he had. 

“Logan,” Patton called, walking toward him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I got hit by a mace,” he answered honestly. “When do we leave?” He used Cat as leverage to get to his feet. 

Patton looked concerned, but knew better than to offer aid. “I would prefer to let you rest longer, after your magic exhausted you do thoroughly. We can’t, though. A scout came through this morning, Major Swift’s reinforcements will be here within hours. I’m certain Declan has told his men to be on the lookout for us. We can’t be seen here, or all these men will be executed.” 

“I’m ready,” Logan insisted. 

Major Swift and Roman joined them then, Swift’s hands caked in dirt. “We’ve managed to gather up enough to hold you both out until you get to Bowerstone,” Swift said. He and Patton hugged fiercely, then he turned to Logan. “I owe you a debt for your assistance.”

Logan grinned. “You can repay us by leading my army into battle against Declan,” he offered. “I may have Patton on my side, but we’re sorely in need of a second lieutenant.” Patton’s nod, and Swift and Roman’s shocked stares, told him he had made the right choice. 

“It would be an honor, Your Majesty,” Swift answered. He cleared his throat, clapped Logan carefully on the shoulder, and walked away without another word. 

Roman held out his hand, which Logan shook gratefully. He never was one for hugs. “Swiftie and I’ll meet you in Bowerstone soon as we can,” he promised. “Don’t go getting killed before we talk again, Your Highness. I’d regret not getting to know you better.” 

He turned and strode off quickly, leaving Logan with a warm face and a laughing mentor. He punched Patton in the shoulder, then used Cat as a crutch to hobble over to the gate. 

Luckily, they managed to leave Mourningwood before night fell again. Logan did not ever want to fight another hollow man in his life. Unfortunately, he still felt faint. His magic had yet to fully return to him, and he was irritated that he was so weak. Patton refused to let him go faster than a steady walk, although being out in the open made him long to sprint to the nearest hiding place. Cat stuck close by him the entire time, leaning against him every time he had to stop and catch his breath, which was often. 

After an hour or so, by Logan’s best guess, they stumbled upon a cluster of ramshackle huts so decrepit they couldn’t even be properly called a village. There were very few people out and about so early, and no children anywhere. Logan assumed most of the people were still hiding. Across the dismal space he could see what looked like a massive wall, and another sewer entrance. “Are we… outside of Bowerstone?” Logan asked, staring at the wall. 

Patton shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Beyond the wall, if I remember correctly, is Millfields. Your brother’s business partner Remus has a mansion there, I believe.” 

Logan shuddered; he had heard of the wild dealings Remus and his brother had. Remus was a known sexual deviant of sorts, as well as a financial crook who openly endorsed child labour. He didn’t know much else about the man, nor was he entirely curious to find out. 

“I hope we won’t have to deal with him,” he said. 

“We will eventually. He has such close ties to the throne that ignoring him once you’re the king would be a very bad idea.” Patton turned in such a way that they would be able to skirt the group of huts to get to the sewer. Nobody paid them any mind as they hiked through the sludge. 

The sewer smelled, predictably, but Logan was beginning to grow accustomed to rank odors. “So if this wall isn’t Bowerstone, where are we going?” 

Patton blinked. “Why, to Bowerstone Industrial, of course. I have friends in the resistance there who would gladly lend a hand deposing the king. This is the safest and quickest way to get there. Oh, don’t look so surprised, dear boy, surely you didn’t expect Declan’s resisters to be everywhere but Bowerstone?” he asked. 

“Of course I knew there had to be rebels in the city,” Logan argued, miffed that Patton would doubt his intelligence. “I would expect them to be hiding in the Old Quarter, since Declan never goes there. Remus runs practically everything in Industrial, after all.” 

“Which makes it the perfect base of operations for the Bowerstone Resistance. It’s almost too easy to keep an eye on Remus when they’re directly underneath him.”

Logan turned to look at him, then cursed as he kicked a low wall on accident. “Underneath?” he asked. “They’re in the sewers?” 

Cat barked up ahead, and Patton grinned. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Good on you for figuring that out so quickly. Once we get to Bowerstone Industrial, we’ll have to move quickly. Getting from the edge of the city to their sewer entrance will take some time if we have to avoid the guards, but since both of us have changed clothes we won’t be as easy to recognize.” 

“Very well,” Logan said. He altered his pace as much as he could, reaching for his magic. To his relief, he felt the faintest spark; it was returning to him. “Let’s join the Bowerstone Resistance.” 

-

Being back in Bowerstone after weeks of being on the run was strange. Everything looked the same as he remembered, but there was a note of danger in the air. He was constantly on the lookout for guards, as was Patton. Cat had the good sense to not bark in the city proper; all of the soldiers they saw seemed unusually tense, maybe bored enough and stressed enough to turn their rifles on a dog. 

Getting through the main town turned out to be the hardest part of their operation. Once they reached the Industrial quarter, guard presence relaxed enough that Logan and Patton could walk freely through the square. Nobody noticed two battered soldiers wandering around in uniform, as it was a common sight for soldiers to spend their coin in the seedier taverns in town. 

Before they could make it to the docks where Patton said the resistance  hid their entrance, shouting drew Logan’s attention toward one of the factories. He ducked into the crowd and followed the noise into a work yard, where a group of people appeared to be protesting. One man was at the front, shouting to the rest of the crowd. Logan couldn’t hear what he was saying, only the chorus of screams that rang out several moments later when a bullet took him down. Another man, richly dressed, stood atop a balcony, pistol in hand. Logan could just barely see the manic glint in his eyes and a hint of grey in his hair. Patton pulled him away as the pistol-wielding madman locked eyes with him. It occurred to him, as the workers scrambled to get inside, that this had to be Remus. The thought chilled him. 

Patton led Logan over to the docks, where several military ships were docked. With a pang, Logan saw the one his father had allowed him to name when he came of age. It was also standing on that ship where he met Eliot for the first time. 

He looked away. He had a lot of memories of that ship that were associated with Eliot, and he couldn’t afford to be lost to grief now. He had barely had a chance to come to terms with his beloved’s death before they left the castle, but his mourning would have to wait until after Declan was off the throne; there was simply no time to focus on anything else. Patton must have noticed, because he put an arm around him and gently steered him away. 

The pair descended a slippery set of steps that bordered the water, leading to a wooden door set in the stone. It was one of many such doors in Bowerstone that led to the sewers, and so far out of the way that Logan would have never known it was there otherwise. 

Patton didn’t hesitate to enter. They walked through the quasi-darkness silently, listening for sounds of life. There were none, other than the occasional rat. 

“I don’t like this,” Patton muttered. “I would have been informed if they had relocated again. Keep your guard up.” 

Logan nodded as they stepped into a large vaguely-circular room. Wardrobes and bedrolls littered the space, and a barrel had been broken down in the center to make a fire, which cast eerie shadows on the walls. A second door across the room appeared to be the only other way out.

“I wonder where-” Patton started. 

“Stay where you are!” Logan looked about for the source of the voice, saw a man standing behind one of the wardrobes. “State your intentions.” 

Patton lifted his hands and took a step forward. “We’re here to speak with Page, we’ve got urgent business.” 

The clicks of several rifles being loaded caught Logan’s attention. He became aware of several other men, and surprisingly some women as well, hiding around the room. 

The man who had spoken, presumably the leader, stepped out of his cover, aiming his own rifle at them. “Who are you? Nobody speaks with Page unless we’re told to let them pass.” 

“Page didn’t know we were coming, there wasn’t time to send word ahead,” Patton responded. He shifted slightly in front of Logan. He seemed to be expecting this to end badly. Logan prepared himself for a brawl. 

The door across the room swung open, revealing a short, dark-skinned woman with dreaded hair and tattered clothing. “Kidd!” She yelled. The man flinched and dropped his weapon immediately. “What the hell are you lot doing?” 

Kidd straightened and turned to face her. “You didn’t tell us you were expecting anyone, Page,” he said. 

Page crossed her arms and stared at the scene before her. “You disappeared without a word,” she said finally. Logan realized she was speaking to Patton. “My informants thought you and your husband had been executed in the middle of the night and the prince imprisoned.” 

Patton rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “There wasn’t any time to leave a note. If we hadn’t left when we had, what you feared might have indeed come to pass.” 

While they talked, Logan stared at him. Husband? He had no idea Patton was married. 

“In any case, it’s mighty good to see you,” Page told him. She turned her sharp gaze on Logan. “You must be the prince.” 

Logan snapped out of his reverie, summoning a fireball and shooting it at the dying flames in the center of the room. At this point he had come to the conclusion that people wouldn’t believe him unless he used his magic to prove it. 

Page nodded approvingly. “Kidd,” she said. “Keep an eye on things, Sir Patton and I need to talk. And I swear, if someone else comes through, come get me before you shoot.” 

“Yes, Page,” Kidd answered demurely. Page beckoned Logan and Patton to follow her. 

When the door had closed behind them, she began to talk again. “Sorry about him. He’s the most senior man I’ve got, but he’s only been around a few months.” She looked haunted and sad as she led them through another sewer hall. “We got hit hard after you disappeared, Bron. Remus found our other base out in the Old Quarter, presumably searching for you. Nobody survived.”

“I’m so sorry, Page.” Patton didn’t reach out to her, which spoke volumes to Logan about what kind of person she was. “You know I would have left a message if I could, but there was too great a chance it would have been found.” 

They entered another rounded chamber, this one with a war table in the center. To Logan’s immense surprise, Major Swift stood leaned over it, moving around some of the pieces. He raised a bandaged hand. He didn’t look well. Off to the side, leaning against a wall, was an equally battered Roman Finn, watching them carefully. He sent Logan a tiny smile, more real than any of his flirtatious gestures at the fort. 

Patton crossed the room in two strides, at Swift’s side in an instant. “Swift, Roman, what are you doing here?” 

“We had no choice,” Swift said bleakly. He grabbed another piece and moved it across the board. 

“One of the men told the soldiers you two had been in the fort, we don’t know who. They tried to arrest us, we had to flee. We’re both officially deserters and fugitives now,” Roman explained bitterly. He pushed off the wall and came to stand by Logan and Page. “One of Swiftie’s friends recognized us out on the road and brought us here. This lovely lady here took us in, but she had trouble believing you were on your way.” 

Page just glared at him until he backed away, hands raised. “Like I said, Bron, we were operating under the assumption you had all been killed. Now that you’re here, any help from Major Swift will be gladly accepted. Logan,” she requested. He moved into her field of vision obediently. “Under any other circumstances I wouldn’t need to test you, but despite what Bron and Swift have told me, I need to know for myself that we can trust you.” 

Logan didn’t know whether to be insulted or impressed. “What would you have me do?”

This seemed to ease Page’s conscience a little. Her shoulders relaxed. “The people of Bowerstone won’t follow you unless they know who you are. Obviously, they can’t know you’re the prince, but if you show them you’re willing to help them, they would more easily accept your leadership when the time comes to take the city.” 

Understanding blossomed. “You’re asking me to help my people the way Declan won’t,” he breathed. “I must admit, that’s brilliant tactical thinking.” He bowed his head at her. “I will gladly go topside and see what I can do. I wouldn’t follow an unproven man, either.” 

“Yet you followed your brother,” Roman pointed out. 

“He used to be different,” Logan said quietly. Swift and Patton stopped talking to listen. “Declan used to be a good man. I know it was long ago, but surely you remember how he used to want to help his kingdom, rather than hurt it. I don’t know what changed him,” Logan admitted, “but I swear to you, to all of you, that I will not become what he has.” 

Before anyone could speak, he called Cat to him and left the room. Right as the door shut behind him, he thought he heard Patton mutter, “He’s becoming a king.” 

Hours later, Logan stumbled back into Page’s room, swaying from exhaustion. More than a few of the people he had helped over the course of the day had needed magical assistance, and his not-yet-recovered magic reserve did not take kindly to be drawn upon. 

Admittedly, had it not been for Roman leaning against the wall next to the door, he would have hit the floor. The soldier caught him as he tilted, chuckling. “Tired, Your Highness?” He teased. 

Patton, Swift, and Page rose to their feet. Logan, too tired to control his tongue, snapped, “I still haven’t recovered from saving your sorry ass in Mourningwood.” 

Page and Swift burst out laughing, while Patton silently reprimanded him. Roman looked stunned that Logan had sassed him. “I may have overstepped myself,” he acknowledged. 

“Bring him over to the table, Roman,” Swift told him. When Logan was seated, Patton and Swift also sat back down. 

Page stayed standing. “You’ve done well, Logan. My people have been reporting to me that you’ve not lost your temper with anyone, no matter how insane the request. They also report that you have been using your gifts freely. Such a person, by my judgement, can only intend good. I officially welcome you to the Bowerstone Resistance, but there is another task which I must ask of you now.” 

Logan had been staring at the table, mostly listening. He found it incredibly difficult to meet her eyes, instead settling for looking at her nose. She didn’t seem to notice the difference. “Has something happened?” He asked. 

“I’m afraid so. We’ve gathered intelligence that Remus hosts incredibly elaborate, secretive parties every month or so. Kidd and some of the men went to investigate, but they haven’t returned yet. I fear they’ve been captured.” Page produced two small pieces of parchment. Invitations. 

Roman stepped forward. “Page, you can’t expect him to go right back out into the thick of things,” he insisted. “Look at him, he’s dead on his feet. At least give him some rest and some food before you throw him to the wolves.” 

Page turned to glare him down, as she had earlier, but Roman didn’t back off this time. The resulting staring match lasted so long Logan almost fell asleep. 

Finally, Roman nodded. He disappeared from Logan’s view for a moment, then came back with a cup. He pressed it into Logan’s hands as Patton stood up to talk to Page. They whispered quickly while Logan sipped the soup. 

“We can’t afford any delays,” Page said loudly. Logan startled. “I’m sorry, Logan, but I need your help to get in there.” 

Logan struggled to shrug off the exhaustion pulling at his limbs and rose to his feet. “I’ll go,” he announced. 

Patton and Roman both looked upset at the outcome of this argument, while Swift was across the room drawing on a cloak. “Good,” accepted Page. “I’ve already got an outfit for you, complete with a mask. Lucky for us, Remus is fond of masquerades.” She paced between the map and the door as she thought. “I’ll have to dig out my outfit. Get dressed and go on ahead, and I’ll meet you at the gate to his manor in Millfields.” 

-

Logan tore his mask off with a deep sigh, flinging it off into the trees somewhere. Page and Kidd stood nearby, nursing their wounds. 

The manor had turned into a bloodbath, a fact Page kept cursing herself for not anticipating. Kidd had been the only rebel alive by the time they had gotten to the manor. Remus’s servant had led them through the manor and into a poorly lit chamber where Remus had subjected them to something he called the Wheel of Misfortune. Logan and Page had been forced to fight hobbs, hollow men, bandits, desert ninjas Remus called sand furies, and eventually Remus’s own guests. 

“Balverines!” Page yelled, throwing her hat to the ground. “Bloody balverines! How can he associate with those brutes?” 

Kidd was cutting his waistcoat into strips to bandage a wound on his arm. “Men like him will do anything for a profit, Page,” he said darkly. 

Page paused and looked over at him. “Of course you’re right,” she admitted. Logan was surprised as how calm she suddenly was. “How bad are you hurt, Kidd? Can you make it back with me?” 

“I’m alright, Page.” Kidd held out his arm so she could look at the wound. 

Down past the gates, the trio heard a town crier start shouting. “All subjects to the castle! All subjects to the castle for the King’s speech!” 

Logan looked between Page and Kidd. “I can’t go,” Page said. “They know my face at the castle, and I have to get Kidd back to base. I know you’ve helped immensely already, but we need to know what your brother has to say.” 

“Go,” Logan told them. “I understand. I’ll get to the castle and back undetected.” 

Kidd nodded gratefully, leaning against Page as she wrapped the torn shirt around his arm. “Get back safe,” he said. 

=

Logan would have liked to say he wasn’t shaking like a leaf as he slipped, with the crowd, into the gates that led to the castle courtyard. Truth be told, he felt he stuck out like a sore thumb, even though he knew there was no way Declan could recognize him from the back of the crowd. 

A hand on his elbow had him reaching for his sword, but another hand grasped his before he could. “Logan, it’s me,” Roman muttered in his ear. 

“Heavens, Roman, don’t scare me like that!” Logan hissed, pulling his hand free. Roman snorted. 

“Sorry, Lo, I’ll keep in mind you’re easily startled.” The soldier winked at him, and he smacked his arm. 

A hush fell over the crowd and Logan looked up to see his older brother out on the balcony, staring down at all of them. “People of Albion,” Declan began, spreading out his arms. “I come to you today with a grave message.” 

A snap of his fingers brought two of his personal guards out, a hooded man between them. One of the guards ripped his hood off, and Roman gasped. “Swiftie!” he breathed. Logan stared in silence, transfixed by his brother’s evil stare. He knew no one else could see it, but he knew what was about to happen. His hand sought out Roman’s and held on tight. 

“This man is a fugitive and a deserter, a former major in my guard. He has been proven to work with the rebels trying to tear your kingdom apart, and is hereby charged with desertion and treason. The sentence is death.” Declan held up a hand. Roman moved as if to step forward, but Logan held him still. The fist closed, a shot sounded out, and Roman looked away. “Rest assured, loyal subjects. I will find the rest of the rebels who threaten our peace, if I have to hunt every last one of them myself.”

The crowd took that as a natural signal to disperse, and Logan pulled Roman far away from the castle before giving him a chance to speak. But Roman just stared over his head, expression blank. Logan knew he hadn’t processed it yet. “Roman?” he asked hesitantly. 

“They killed him,” Roman stated. His voice was filled with a cold rage. “Major Swift was an honest man, and they killed him for it.” He looked down at Logan. “We have to stop him before he kills anyone else. Before he gets Patton, or Page, or you.” 

Logan could see the tears beginning to form in his eyes. “We won’t let him get away with any of this,” he promised. “But we need to go. Page and Patton need to know what happened.” 

The trip back to base was a silent one, made ever more tense each time Logan saw the wanted posters on the walls. Patton, Page, Roman. Everyone had one but him. He knew why, but it made him feel as though he was merely imitating. Pretending to be a bigger part of this rebellion than he actually was.

To say the others took the news of Swift’s death hard was an understatement. Patton had to sit down, and Page left the room. Roman had retreated to some far off corner of the room and was on the ground, back to the wall and head in his hands. Logan, it seemed, was the only one either not horribly affected or too tired to react. 

He couldn’t say when, exactly, but at some point he woke up on the ground. He nearly got up, but the feeling of fingers threading through his hair gave him pause. In this half-asleep state, he had only fuzzy recollections of the day before. Swift’s execution, coming back to tell everyone. How Patton and Kidd had made a plan to do some reconnaissance the next day. How Logan had offered to go with, and when they agreed, how he had come over to sit by Roman. The two hadn’t talked much, but Logan realized he must have fallen asleep while keeping the man company. His head lay on Roman’s lap.

Ordinarily he would sit up, apologize and move on. But it had been so long since anyone had been so tender towards him that he let himself relax and enjoy it. Roman’s fingers were methodical, combing one section of his hair thoroughly before moving on to the rest. He was humming absently. 

It was such an oddly domestic moment in the middle of what could technically be called war. Somewhere nearby, he heard Page come in and begin to speak. Patton’s voice followed, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He drifted off again.

By his best guess, it was late afternoon or early evening when he awoke again. He now rested fully on the ground, a thin blanket tossed over him. He pulled it around his shoulders as he sat up. As far as he could tell, he was alone. Even Cat seemed to be nowhere around. He climbed to his feet, calling just enough fire to his palm that he wouldn’t trip on the uneven ground. He was staring down at the war table when he remembered Kidd’s reconnaissance plans. With a curse, he stumbled through the door and down the passage until he reached the main chamber. 

Kidd was tending to the fire, poking it with his dagger and throwing another piece of broken furniture on it. His arm had been bandaged properly. He looked up as Logan entered. “Hello,” he greeted. “You’ve been asleep for quite a while.” 

“You should have woken me for the mission,” Logan accused. He pulled the blanket off his shoulders and carefully refolded it. 

“You needed the sleep, Logan,” came Patton’s voice. Logan saw him, partially hidden behind a large chair, grooming Cat. The dog noticed his master and barked happily, but otherwise made no effort to join him. “You’ve been running on fumes since we left the castle. The mission went fine without you.”

Logan scowled, but went to him anyway. “Hello, traitor,” he said to Cat. “What did you learn?”

“Apparently, the Auroran people across the sea are none too happy with your brother themselves,” Roman interrupted, appearing behind Logan. Logan jumped and ducked his head slightly. Neither Roman or Patton noticed, thankfully. “We’ve been trying to come up with a way to get to them.” 

Patton nodded, smiling gently. “Virgil is the one who came up with the solution, believe it or not. He suggested we steal one of Declan’s supply ships, since we’re already wanted criminals. He’s so often prim and proper these days that I forget how much of a scoundrel he used to be.” 

Roman shook his head in fond exasperation. “You can reminisce later, Patton. I’ve got the trap laid, but it won’t hold long before they figure it out. If we’re going tonight, we need to do it now.”

“Right. Up for an adventure, Logan?”

Logan sighed. Less than a week around Roman Finn, and he would recognize that mischievous glint anywhere. Patton’s eyes held a similar gleam. This could only mean trouble. But he nodded anyway, checking his magic reserve and smiling in relief. The sleep had refueled him, for the most part. What he still lacked, he could make up for with a meal on the ship. 

On the way to the wharf, Patton explained the plan in hushed tones. Roman had rigged several of the fleet’s warships with explosives to both distract the Royal Guard and to prevent them from chasing them to Aurora. Patton, Logan, and Roman would be going alone to seek aid from the Auroran people, while Kidd and Page stayed behind to give the Guard something else to focus on while they were gone. This quiet explanation was interrupted several times as guards spotted them out late and stopped them, or sometimes recognized Patton or Logan and attacked. Through some streak of luck, they managed to dispose of each group before reinforcements could be called. 

They were at the edge of the wharf when the first explosion went off. It was a spectacular display, really. Several ships that hadn’t been rigged to blow got caught in the resulting fires simply due to how close they were to each other. The only boat that Logan could see that didn’t take any damage was the one they were sprinting toward. Cat, being a dog and therefore faster than any of them, reached the ship first, leaping across the gap and landing in a heap on the deck. Despite the seriousness of their situation, Logan couldn’t help laughing. His silly dog had completely ignored the boarding plank that led to the ship. 

“Roman! Get the sails lowered!” Patton shouted. “Logan, keep those guards away from the ship!”

Logan slowed, allowing the others to board while he remained on the dock to fight the small cluster of guards that had followed them. “Halt in the name of the King!” One of them yelled. 

Logan grinned. He knew from the way they stumbled back that his magic, coupled with his expression and the flames casting shadows over his face, made him look inhuman. “I halt for no one, especially not Declan,” he told them. 

The guard’s ringleader, whether brave or foolish, drew his sword and began a slow advance. “That’s His Majesty to you, boy,” he snapped. 

“Oh, come now, sure my brother and I are past formalities at this point,” Logan said casually. A chorus of voices kicked up.

“Prince Logan!” 

“His Majesty instructed him to be brought in alive.” 

“We’re all going to be executed for this.”

The lead man charged him, and Logan sent out a bolt of lightning, shooting the man off the dock and into the water. Some of the other guards turned and fled. Those who stayed also ended up either in the water or unconscious on the deck. 

“Lo!” Roman cried. He was struggling against the vicious breeze that had kicked up. “Get on, we have to go now!” 

Logan began to jog toward the end of the dock, where Patton fought to keep the wheel from turning. The plank fell into the water with a splash, and Logan put on a burst of speed as he launched himself from the edge of the dock. He nearly missed the ship, catching a rope and crashing into the side of the hull with a solid thwack. 

With everyone aboard, Roman let the sail snap back to its original position as he came to help Logan get up to the deck. Cat licked his face as he was hauled over the rail.

“You alright?” Patton called. 

“Just dandy,” Logan responded. He lay on the deck for a moment before he began to laugh. “We just set fire to the royal fleet and stole a ship! Declan’s going to kill me for this one!” 

Roman went and tied the sail down, then came and sat by Logan. “I take it you were a troublemaker as a child?” He prodded. 

“Oh no, not really. Declan was the one who was always in trouble with Papa. But when he started teaching Declan how to rule, before he got sick, I would play tricks on him sometimes. The reason Cat likes me more than Declan is because I taught him how to ask the nobles for treats during state dinners.” Logan stared up at the night sky, watching the clouds cover the moon. “Whenever Papa would catch me, he would just laugh. Declan would tell the tutor and make me write sentences.”

Roman didn’t seem to know what to think of that. “You called him Papa?” he asked finally. 

Logan shrugged. “Not in front of guests. Then he was Father. He said that if we appeared dignified, even at such young ages, nobody would question us when we were older. He was right, for the most part. I guess he never expected Declan and I to turn on each other.” 

At the wheel, Patton was singing some sort of sea shanty. Judging by his expression, he enjoyed being on the sea. Logan realized he didn’t know much about his mentor’s past. He knew his history in the Guard, of course, but he had almost no knowledge of Patton’s life before serving his father. 

“I think, despite everything, you’re really lucky,” Roman said suddenly. “Not because you’re the prince, or because you grew up with everything. You’ve got so many people who care about you. I would kill to have a father like Patton.” 

Logan sat up, watching his friend, realizing that he did, in fact, consider them friends. “Roman-” he started. 

A flash interrupted him. Logan and Roman both looked to the side, where they saw storm clouds rolling in fast. Patton had seen them, too. “Balls!” he cursed. “Hold on, boys!” He jerked the wheel to the side, sending them sprawling as he tried to move the ship out of the storm’s path. 

It was no use. The thunderhead was massive, and the storm had sneaked up on them. There would be no escaping. “We have to tie ourselves down!” Roman yelled. 

Logan shook his head. “No! If the ship goes down, we’ll drown! Just hold on!” He reached out his hand and Roman took it. He grabbed the mast while Logan wrapped his free hand around Cat’s collar. 

Patton was looping his arms through the wheel and holding the base of it tightly. “We’re going to be okay!” He yelled. “It’s all going to be alright!”

The rain the storm brought stung like a thousand frozen pins. They were all soaked within seconds. The wind kicked up, howling in Logan’s ears. He saw Roman shouting, but his words were ripped away. Lightning cracked in the water nearby, and the waves began to climb dangerously high. 

Cat was cowering, trying to get out of the rain. He ducked under Logan’s arm, huddled close to his master. Logan felt an impending sense of doom as a wave began to form in front of them. The ship was headed straight for it. 

He squeezed tight to Roman’s hand as it came down, stealing his breath and forcing salt water into his lungs. He could feel Roman struggling to hold onto him as the waves fought to tear them apart, and he knew suddenly that if he didn’t let go they would both drown. He dug his nails into the back of Roman’s hand, before loosening his grip. 

As the wave receded, he felt Roman grasp for him again, saw the man open his mouth to say something and then choke on the ocean. He kept a tight hold on Cat as the water pulled him away. As his dog tried frantically to swim against the current, he surrendered to it. He couldn’t see Patton as he was flung into the sea, but he saw the bolt of lightning that struck the ship.

All at once, he had the terrible fear that Patton and Roman were going to die. He fought to shout, to say anything, but the current pulled him under again. His head bounced off of something and he felt only sharp pain. Red pulsed across his vision as it went dark, and he vaguely registered he was seeing his own blood.

Then the sea swallowed him once more, and he knew nothing else. 

[theeternalspace]

In Memoriam Masterpost

Here we are at last! My entry to @ts-storytime!

I had a blast writing this and putting my own spin on the memory loss trope. 

This is a Narnia inspired story, that borrows various elements of the world and the characters from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. It is NOT a Narnia AU. References and quotes from the book are, of course, all by C.S. Lewis.

Title: In Memoriam 

Pairings: None / Platonic Prinxiety. Platonic Anxciet.

Characters: Roman Sanders. Virgil Sanders. Thomas Sanders. Patton Sanders. Logan Sanders. Deceit Sanders.

Summary: The metal tree had always fascinated the Prince. 

Only, it wasn’t a tree. 

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t really a Prince. Instead he was... a side of someone’s personality? He doesn’t remember Thomas, or the other sides, those who call themselves his friends. He doesn’t really remember anything, not even his own name, no matter the efforts of Patton, Logan or Virgil. He must venture back into the Wardrobe door, back to the metal tree in an attempt to recover his missing memories and regain everything he has lost. 

But perhaps some doors are best left closed for a reason. And perhaps some personas should remain in the ground where they have been buried.

Warnings: Sympathetic/Grey Deceit Sanders. He is trying his best you guys. Anxiety. Self doubt and self loathing. Fantasy fighting. Verbal fighting. Threatening behaviour. Blood and injury. Memory loss. Drowning. Near death.

This story was beta-ed by the ever wonderful @i-will-physically-fight-you who also ended up being my artist for this project. (Links to be added) There is no way this story would be even a fraction as good as it is without her aid and very helpful comments in not only beta-ing the chapters as they finished, but also helping me plot and work through problem areas of the story. 

~~

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine 

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

[luci-the-android]

Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Deceit Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton Characters: Logic | Logan Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sleep | Remy Sanders, Deceit Sanders Additional Tags: Prince Patton - Freeform, prince roman, tutor logan, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Trans Male Morality | Patton Sanders, Switching Places, Transphobia, Homophobia, Villain Deceit, advisor deceit Summary:

Patton and Virgil could be twins. Except their lives were completely different. Patton was a prince, even if his mother would never accept who he was. Virgil is working off his parent's debt by sewing dresses at Dragonwitch Designs. A few days after meeting his fiance, Patton goes missing. Logan (Patton's tutor) brings Virgil into the castle to pose as Patton.

Basically Barbie's the Princess and the Pauper, but with Sanders Sides

My submission for @ts-storytime !!! I’m so happy to finally post it.

My artist is @hghrules and I’ll be sure to reblog that when posted.

[nottodaylogic]

Me, finally posting the one @ts-storytime project that I managed to get done??? More likely than you’d think!!

This is for @confinesofpersonalknowledge ‘s story, which is not yet done, but I’m super excited for it!!

In order, the drawings are of:

- Virgil, a few minutes before collapsing on the stage at VidCon. The caption is a meme.

- Virgil and Remy cuddling and being in love. His hoodie is only fully on his right arm, while he’s hugging it around himself with his left. He isn’t missing an arm.

- Virgil, Roman, and Patton, brothers, taking a family photo around the time the story takes place. Virgil is the shortest, and very angry about it. Roman is totally wearing heels, by the way.

- Virgil, Roman, and baby Patton, when they were leaving their parents’ house.

- Virgil... is not in this one. Roman and Logan are on a study date. They’re in love.

- Virgil and his parents when he was little, on a “Breaking News” banner. If Virgil’s dad looks a little bit like Marvin Falsettos, I’m sorry.

(The news person is actually Elvira Magnos, from my Storytime fic. She’s not made an appearance yet but she will.)

[k9cat]

Hello! This is the art work to @virgilandpattontoo ‘s big bang story! Hosted by @ts-storytime  

The description gave five times they watched the stars together and one time one watched alone, and I am a sucker for 5+1 fics and had to match that with five illustrations of them together and one time alone.

This was a lot of fun to draw and illustrate for,and im very happy with how these have turned out. It was quite a learning curve with having a series of illustrations and keeping the style consistent, especially as I learned what my art program can do and what techniques work best. 

enjoy! and don’t forget to read the fic! I’m excited too!

my masterpost 

[blank-ace]

It’s me again, coming at ya with drawings for the amazing @ace-corvid who wrote this incredibly cute Youtube AU for @ts-storytime ‘s big bang that I adore with every fiber of my soul!! Seriously, go check it out and send them some love!

I really want to animate the intro to Roman’s DARK SIDE OF DISNEY??? video, so if there are voice actors out there ready to record a couple lines for me, please please please message me! I can offer you my undying love and 7 cents I found in my chair as payment

[EDIT: Thank you for all the lovely messages!! @why-should-i-tell-youu2 and @readingabookwithinthetrees offered to va for me! We’re making this happen, my dudes]

You can find the fic here!

[keuwibloom]

"... In this lonely world, I was waiting alone, for such a long time,

for your gentle hands, from the other side of the mirror."

My piece for the @ts-storytime 2019 big bang! I was partnered up with @max-is-tired and they wrote a hecking amazing fic based on the vocaloid songs Magic Mirror and Mirror's Magic!!

Gonna post a link to the fic once its up!

[lestroodledoodles]

I participated in the 2019 Big Bang and I’m kind of dead, this took 3 days.

I had the honor of making art for @simplynerdy’s story! Which I will link below! It really was an honor to draw for a story by such an amazing writer, and having inspiration from a video game I love and adore! Make sure to check out their story!

Their story below!

And of course @ts-storytime

[thegoldofyourheart]

Lovely Hecate and not-so-lovely Apathy, two very important players in the story of The Gold of Your Heart.

Masterpost  • Art Tag for  The Gold of Your Heart

[callboxkat]

Here’s my art for this year’s @ts-storytime event! I was paired with @altruistic-skittles and her story I’m No Hero is incredible, and I hope you guys go check it out!

More art under the cut!

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough Masterpost

Hey, there, Famders, it’s me, ya Milo. Guess who also wrote for the @ts-storytime Big Bang event this year? :D I was partnered with @sanders-sides-love-ask-blog, and you can find their art here! (Link to be added soon!)

Story Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, child neglect, child abuse, drug use, alcohol use, legal system, CPS, homelessness, starving, daydreams as a coping mechanism, implied sexual content, stranger danger, fairy tales, food, cursing, fake names, anxiety, panic, crying, Probably Terribly Translated Spanish And I Apologise, parent death mention, dysphoria and coming out mention, forced parent/child seperation, terrible living conditions, sleep deprivation, violence, snakes, blood, nightmares

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

[luci-the-android]

My art for the big bang!

I was paired with @fandomsandanythingelse

Find the fic here

@ts-storytime

[lucifer-in-my-head]

To Love a Prince   - Chapter One

Summary:   A new kingdom. A new home. A new husband. When Prince Dolion is arranged to marry the heir of another kingdom, he is eager to leave behind his loneliness, along with the family he knows won’t miss him - but fate is not so benign. Married to a man that does not love him, Dee finds his heart drawn to another; a man that can never be his. As the stability of his marriage rapidly deteriorates, Dee must endure the weight of his own feelings, the crushing isolation that comes with them…and the brutality of the one who is supposed to protect him. Pairings: Roman/Deceit (abusive), Virgil/Deceit    Overall Warnings: Abuse, abusive relationship, abusive Roman, angst, broken bones, disowning, domestic abuse, exploration of trauma, injuries, non/con, parental neglect, rape, sympathetic Deceit, violence Chapter Warnings: None Word Count: 1514 Masterlist AO3

Chapter One:

Dee was decidedly enthusiastic as he was escorted through the vast halls of the foreign castle, three paces behind his father. His heart thumped away nervously in his chest as they walked, each step bringing the young prince closer and closer to the encounter that would either set him free, or damn him. Nevertheless, Dee’s stride did not falter, and he held his chin high. 

Soon - too soon - the hallway ended, and Dee stood before two massive oak doors. The doors groaned as the guards pushed them open, and he and his father were led through. The throne room was enormous, dwarfing his father’s in comparison. He had to crane his neck to see the glittering chandeliers on the roof, which illuminated the larger than life paintings that hung from the walls - one for each King that had sat upon the golden throne, and an empty space where the portrait of the current prince would one day hang. 

His attention was drawn to the throne perched atop the dais at the end of the room, and to the man that sat there - the King. To his left perched another throne, atop which proudly sat who Dee assumed to be the prince, and at the base of the dais stood a man in a fancier version of the guard’s uniform - a glance at the patches on his shoulders indicative of the Captain of the Guard.

Dee wasn’t afforded very long to sightsee, before his father stopped in front of him and bowed. Dee, familiar with the etiquette required of him, sank down to one knee beside his father and ducked his head, not wanting to offend the reigning rulers of this foreign kingdom by making eye contact.

“King Patton.” His father greeted, his strident voice echoing through the room. “I would like to extend my gratitude to you for inviting us here on this day.” 

“Well, I couldn’t go accepting a marriage proposal without meeting the prospective husband, could I?” The king responded in an amused voice. There was something inherently childlike about the way the king of this land spoke, and yet at the same time, Dee could tell that beneath that childish exterior lay deep wells of wisdom and maturity. 

“Very true, Your Majesty.” His father agreed. His voice, on the other hand, didn’t hold a trace of that childishness. No, Dee’s father was a hard, stern man, wise in his own way, but with a different sort of maturity, one bred from time in the war-room, rather than among the people, as Patton was known for. “I do hope you find my son pleasing to the eye despite his...condition.” 

Dee felt his cheeks heat up in a mixture of embarrassment and anger at his father’s words. His father knew what the condition was called, vitiligo, the healers had told him often enough as he tried to force them to ‘fix him’. It wasn’t fixable. No amount of potions or cream would ever even out the tones of his skin and make them match, no matter how many he tried. This was just how Dee was.

He kept his gaze fixed on the marble flooring as footsteps echoed down the dais, heading towards him. He held his breath as a pair of shiny black boots halted in front of him, and, after a moment, a finger crooked under his chin, lifting his face up. Dee was met with the sight of deep green eyes gazing down into his own mismatched brown and hazel pair. The other prince wore an intrigued expression as he took in the details of Dee’s face, and Dee took in his.

The foreign prince had soft, curly brown hair that made his green eyes sparkle. He had a straight nose and a square jaw, and his skin was tanned gold from the sun. Dee glanced down to the prince’s broad shoulders - even under his royal regalia, Dee could see how muscular he was. Clearly the sword at his hip wasn’t just for show. 

The prince gave off an aura of self assuredness, and Dee knew from that alone that he was far more capable and confident than Dee could ever hope to be. 

The back of Dee’s neck twinged abruptly as the other prince tilted his chin up even higher, and he quickly dropped his gaze back to the floor. The prince chuckled, brushing a thumb over Dee’s lips and sending a shiver down his spine. 

“You are Prince Dolion, correct?” His voice was loud, and Dee sensed an amount of eccentricity there. Abruptly, he felt rather small in comparison to the prince before him. He swallowed, and nodded his head.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Dee forced out. He wondered, briefly, if his father would be offended that the prince felt the need to check that he’d remembered to bring along the right son.

“I am Prince Roman.” He introduced. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Your Highness.” Dee said, doing his best to subtly flatter him. Dee’s kingdom depended on Roman agreeing to wed the youngest prince and share his wealth. 

Besides, Dee wasn’t looking forward to the beating he’d surely receive if he failed, today.

After a moment, Roman chuckled again, and let go of Dee’s chin. “You may rise, Dolion.” He said.

Dee got to his feet, finding himself slightly disappointed to discover that he was a few inches shorter than the other prince, despite the heels on his boots. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Roman smiled. “None of that.” He said. “We’re equal here.” Dee opened his mouth to respond, but his father cleared his throat.

“How do you find him, Your Highness?” He inquired, the set of his shoulders indicating to Dee that he was making an effort to contain his eagerness. Dee was well aware that his father would be happy to see him gone, even without the money.

Money, preferably, though. His father always did like his coin.

Roman hummed thoughtfully, circling Dee before standing before him again. “He’s beautiful.” The prince marvelled, and Dee felt heat rise in his cheeks. His eyes met Roman’s, just for a moment, before flickering back down again. He felt a small smile tug at his lips. 

“What do you think, Father?” Roman asked, turning back to King Patton.

“It’s your decision, Roman.” The king said. “That being said, I do like him. He seems sweet.” The king’s eyes practically sparkled, and Dee couldn’t help but smile wider at the infectious grin the king wore. The King of this realm was surprisingly soft around the edges, he noticed, with blonde, curly hair and a roundish face. He wore a curious smile that matched the sparkle in his eyes that Dee could spot even from here.

“Then I accept your proposal, Your Majesty.” Roman decided, turning back to Dee’s father.

“Wonderful.” He responded, and Dee could practically see the gears turning in his father’s head. “I shall begin the preparations at once, if that is acceptable to you.”

Roman nodded. “Be swift about them.” He said, his eyes raking up and down Dee’s form. “I am eager to wed this stunning creature I see before me.” 

Dee blushed bright red, his tense shoulders relaxing at the acceptance, at this opportunity to get away from his father and to run into the arms of this Prince, as cliche as that may be. But there was something about the way Roman looked at him that sent shivers down Dee’s spine, and flutters in his chest. He could tell Roman wasn’t lying when he called Dee beautiful, and no one had ever meant it when they said it. Not before Roman.

The other prince lifted Dee’s hand and pressed a feather light kiss to the back of it. “I look forward to marrying you, Dolion.” He said quietly. There was something behind Roman’s eyes that Dee couldn’t identify, and it fascinated him, drew him in like a moth to a lantern.

“And I, you.” Dee whispered back.

Roman grinned, the action splitting his face and showing off the dimples in his cheeks. Two on the left, one on the right, Dee noticed. God, the Prince was beautiful. More so than Dee could ever hope to be, no matter what Roman said.

His lips tingled as Roman cupped his chin again, brushing a thumb over them for the second time, and a shiver ran down his spine at the enthralled look on Roman’s face. Dee wondered, for a moment, why the Prince liked him so much. What exactly it was about Dee that interested him...

After another few moments, Roman let him go, stepping back and returning to his father’s side. Roman nodded to the King, and Patton smiled at Dee for a second before turning his attention to Dee’s father. 

“Shall we set the date for the end of the month?” He proposed. Two weeks from now. 

“We shall.” His father agreed. 

“Then it’s settled.” Patton sat back in his throne. “We’ll see you then, Dolion.” 

Dee smiled softly. He couldn’t be free of his father soon enough. 

[gaylotusthatexists]

By The Sea

Virgil's life may be going downhill, but at least he still has his island and he still has the sea. However, when he meets a certain writer staying in the hotel he works at, it appears that something more important has arrived.

Roman's life seems to be going great, but he knows that soon all that may change. He has travelled to this island, along with this two best friends, to focus on his work, but when he meets a certain guy that he's sure he recognises, how can he focus on anything else?

And with only twelve days on the island together, will they be able to make it work?

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, Remile

Word Count: 24160

This was written for the @ts-storytime, and boi did it take a while so I hope that y'all enjoy this. The full fic has been posted onto my ao3 here. You can read the first chapter below but I’m not planning on posting the rest on Tumblr, unless any of y’all really want me too. 

@justisaisfine made some beautiful pieces of artwork for this fic which you can find here, seriously guys go follow them, their art is amazing.

As far as I'm aware, there isn't anything in this that would be particularly triggering, but if y'all spot anything please let me know and I'll put up a warning. At the very worst there is some negative thinking and crying, but it's mostly fluff honestly. It also contains Deceit, who could be viewed as sympathetic or morally-grey, honestly idk. 

There are some bits that are in Spanish and I would like to apologise in advance for the terrible Spanish, I used Google Translate which I don't really trust but I also don't speak Spanish so y'know. If any of y'all are Spanish-speaking and know a better translation, please let me know, I'd really appreciate it.

Anyway, I think that's all I have to say? Hope y'all enjoy it! I certainly enjoyed writing it, haha

<3

DAY ONE

00:09

The sea shimmered in the moonlight, thousands of stars reflecting off its gentle waves. Pulling his hoodie tighter around his body, the boy exhaled. This was his home, his true home - the sky and the ocean and the island. Sat here by the sea, he could feel the wind brushing past his cheeks and the water washing over his feet. He could have stayed there, in that single moment, forever and ever, and he'd never grow tired of the feeling.

But it was late and he had to get back to the apartment. He couldn't stay out here all night, not when he had to be up so early for work in the morning. Sure, the chances of him actually sleeping were slim, but it was better resting inside that out. And he needed rest to be ready for tomorrow.

Glancing up to the sky for one last look before returning to reality, he saw a flashing light moving across the black. All he could do was sigh. That would be a plane, filled with visitors. People who come to the island to catch sun or whatever they do. People who Virgil would have to deal with for a couple weeks before they exit stage left. People who probably won't even notice that Virgil had a life of his own.

But hey, they're also the people who pay the bills, so could Virgil really complain?

This was his life. He had to deal with idiots like that for a while, but at least he had this. He had his island, and he had the sea.

Virgil stood up and started the journey into his future.

6:00

A blaring alarm jolted Roman out of bed and, for a moment, all he wanted in life was death - not specifically his own.

"Who the hell set an alarm?" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his forehead. The horrendous sound still rung out through the room, hammering into his skull, until it was finally cut off and Roman was able to breath.

"That would be me," Logan said, casually. He was already out of bed and heading into the bathroom. "We've got to get on if we want to get breakfast."

Roman sighed, closing his eyes again. "Logan. We're on holiday. We're supposed to be relaxing. Not getting up at six am."

Logan poked his head out the door. "The restaurant opens at seven, Roman."

"That doesn't mean we have to be there at seven," Roman argued, lying back down and pulling the sheets over his head.

"If we get there first, we're more likely to receive better food, and as you know, breakfast is the most-"

"Yeah, yeah, most important meal, you say this every day," Roman said. "Can't we just, like, grab a quick brunch later on?"

Logan sighed. "No, Roman. That is not how any of this works." He slammed the door shut.

A few moments, maybe minutes, later, Roman peeked out from under the blankets. "Pat?" he whispered.

No response. Patton must have still been asleep. Of course Patton would be the one who got to sleep through the alarm and the argument.

Roman turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed as though he wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. All whilst Patton was laid there still sound asleep. That was so, so unfair.

He couldn't really do anything, though. Patton has always been a heavy sleeper, unlike Roman. And he supposed that Logan had a point - getting up early would certainly help with this work, since they hadn't just come here for a vacation. Whilst the promise of sun had been one of the deciding factors, the actual reason that the three boys had travelled to the island was to get away from city life and focus on their work - Logan was studying some science mumbo-jumbo that Roman didn't understand, Patton was hoping to work on his photography, and Roman needed to get this goddamn novel finished. A quiet, whilst kind of touristy, place like that seemed like the best place for them to focus, and in the case of the other two actually added to their work.

That didn't mean Roman was okay with getting up so early, though. Not after he spent God-knows-how-long travelling and then only getting around three hours of sleep. Maybe the next day it would've been fine, but he seriously doubted he would be able to focus at all today.

There was no harm in trying, though. If all else failed, he could always take a nap later on. But for now, he had to focus on his plan. He was in for the adventure of a lifetime, and he wasn't going to waste it.

8:09

Virgil stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed his coffee mug, chugging the entire thing in one go. This morning he would be working on pure caffeine and spite, which perhaps wasn't the best idea when he was supposed to look happy for the 'guests', but if it got him through the day then so be it. Upon realising that his cup was empty, he grabbed the one next to it, not bothering to check who's it was, and chugged that too.

"Remy isn't going to appreciate you drinking his coffee," one of Virgil's roommates said, from the other side of the kitchen.

Virgil put the cup back down and looked over at Emile, who was sat crosslegged on top of the counter sipping his cup of hot chocolate. "What a shame." He began pouring out another cup of coffee.

"Are you doing okay, buddy?" Emile asked, jumping down from the counter and stepping towards him. "'Cause, uh, that's an awful lot of coffee."

"If I don't drink this, I'll end up punching a dude, and then I'll lose my job again. Which I can't afford to do."

Before Virgil could drink a third cup, Emile gently pulled it out of his hand. "Virgil, you're going to end up killing yourself."

"Oh no," Virgil said in monotone, trying to get his coffee back but being unable too as Emile held it out of his reach.

A third person came strutting into the room and snatched the coffee out Emile's hand. "Was Virgil trying to steal my coffee again?" he asked.

Emile smirked. "He did steal your coffee. And then made another one."

Remy faked annoyance. "How dare he."

Virgil just sighed.

"Well," Emile said, "I should get off. I've got a client at ten."

Remy smiled and planted a small kiss on Emile's forehead. "Good luck, Em."

"Ew," Virgil said.

"This is our apartment, I'm allowed to kiss my boyfriend," Remy said, as Emile moved away towards the front door.

"I also live here," Virgil reminded him.

"Only because your poor," Remy countered.

"I make more than you."

"And Emile makes more than both of us combined."

Virgil considered that for a moment. "I mean, yeah, I guess."

"When you get yourself a rich significant other, then you can move out and you won't have to watch us be gay." Before Virgil could reply, Remy left the kitchen.

Shaking his head but allowing a small smile to creep out, Virgil grabbed his backpack and left the apartment.

9:32

"Why are we up so early?" Patton moaned, as the three of them walked out of the hotel.

"We've gone over this, Patton," Logan said. "We have to make the most of our time here."

"We have almost two weeks, Logan, surely we can spare a day to rest," Patton argued.

"You're not allowed to complain," Roman chimed in. "Since, y'know, you got an extra hour of sleep."

"Speaking of," Logan continued, "I set an alarm for a reason. It would be great if, in the future, you both got up at the designated time."

Patton sighed. "Alright, Logan."

Logan smiled. "Thank you for understanding, Patton."

9:35

Virgil glanced at a group of three boys making their way out of the hotel as he made his way in. He could tell they were new arrivals from their pale complexity - and from the fact he hadn't seen them around yet. They might have been on last nights plane. But if that were the case, why were they up so early?

Maybe they were the type to get out and do things. Which was good for Virgil, because that just meant less people to slave after. Although, they did seemed to be the loud type, judging by the fact that he could hear their conversation perfectly, which he did not care for at all. Perhaps they would be a problem later on.

Not that any of that mattered. It wasn't as if any of them would talk to him. Properly, he meant. They weren't going to walk up to him and willingly start a conversation. No one ever did. They would just get what they need off him and then leave him be.

"You're late," someone said, as soon as Virgil stepped foot into the lobby.

He sighed. "My shift doesn't even start until ten." He walked up to the counter and leant his arm on the side, looking up to the person who had spoke, the manager. He was wearing a black and yellow suit, with a waistcoat, a bowler hat and a bowtie - over the top, really, for a less-than-fancy hotel in middle of nowhere. Down one side of his face, he had a scar surrounded by burn marks, from some mysterious tragedy he refused to talk about. Virgil had met him a couple years after said tragedy, and had been somewhat-friends with him for some time. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't still a harsh boss.

The manager - Declan - smiled. "You're meant to arrive at half nine."

"I know, I know." Virgil shrugged. "But five minutes doesn't hurt."

"Sure," Declan dragged out.

"So, what's the deal?" He leant back. "Who we got this week?"

"Not a lot of visitors," Declan admitted. "Mostly people on business."

"Cool." Virgil breathed out. "I'll go get changed."

"Why don't you ever get changed at home?" Declan wondered.

Virgil shrugged. "You have a changing room here. Might as well make use of it."

"Is it because you don't like walking here in uniform?" Declan guessed, sensing that Virgil was lying.

"You got me." Virgil smiled. "See you in twenty."

"It doesn't take that long to-"

Virgil had already left the room before he could hear Declan finish.

19:26

"Can I take your order?"

Roman looked up at the waiter and all words fled from his mind. The man was perfect. His soft, dyed purple hair swooped in front of his deep brown eyes, which were outlined by a thick layer of black eyeshadow, kind of smudged after the long day. He had dark, smooth skin, but chapped lips, and he looked like a mess, actually, but for some reason Roman was drawn to him and only him. Everything else seemed to fade away. It was just him.

Logan nudged Roman.

Roman continued staring.

The man walked away.

Roman's world came back.

"Roman?"

His head shot to the source of the voice - Patton. "Huh?"

"You alright?" Patton asked.

Roman blinked. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You didn't speak when he asked for your order," Logan said.

Roman frowned. "I..."

He breathed in. He had never felt that before. Never lost control over his words.

But... maybe that wasn't bad. Maybe something great was about to happen.

He had to see that man again.

CONTINUE READING HERE