• -He grunted, grumbled, and growled various curses as he stomped towards the stables on the eastern side of the Silver City. Alistair jerked open the thick oak door, bellowing out across the first six stalls occupied by horses bearing heavy silver armor on almost every inch of their massive muscular bodies.– Knave! Be my steed ready for my travels? –The small-framed boy shot to his feet, shaking in his thin-soled boots with knocking knees and stuttering tones- “Y-Y-Yes, High Templar, Sire. Ready he is.” –The boy slipped his fingers around the bucket at his feet’s handle and sank the rag that had been in his tiny hands into the chilling sudsy waters before scooting away. Alistair’s eyes had been glued to him, his lips in a pursed scowl.- Where do you think you’re going? Come back here, boy! –He obeyed, slinking cautiously back before the monster of a man. As the boy stood beside him trembling, he had curled his finger onto his chin, deep chocolate eyes scanning over the horse’s armor. His brawny hand slapped at its shoulder blade coverings, smirking as it shone in the light back at him.- So, Chronus, does it fit well? –The horse bucked his head about and neighed in response.- Good then. And the rest of it? –Just as the last words left his lips, Alistair spotted not only a dent in the armor, but a rather sizable scratch down along the front leg plating. His face grew dense and fiery as he jerked around, shooting his fingers into the boy’s nappy hair, shoving him to the ground and yanking him into the creature’s imperfection all at once.- What is that, boy? Are you trying to make a mockery of your High Templar? Of your master? Of your uncle? –The boy sobbed, whimpering and blubbering away. Alistair’s gut wrenched into itself as the boy begged mercy.- Why did your father have to leave you with me, Xander? You are such the pain of an arrow in my side, you know? – He let go of his young nephew, who tendered at his leaky eyes and dripping nose.- “A-A-Apologies, Sire. I d-do not wish to be a b-b-burden to your g-g-grace.” –He received a foul glare from the older man, who soon brushed him off and sighed heavily.- Boy, you… -He then donned a splendid idea, one that would make both of their lives much simpler, and rolled it out for the youngling.- Does anyone know of you other than I and your late parents, boy? –He shook his head, fingers in mouth.- Perfect. Then you shall ride with me to Moraine. Swiftly, now, onto Chronus’ back! –He picked up the boy, no larger than an adult coyote, and hurled him onto the silvery saddle, scrambling up onto it after and behind him. The boy was in such shock at the suddenness of it all, he was stupefied until Alistair made the horse move into a full gallop just outside of the stables. No one would ask questions if the High Templar were rushing off after visiting the master of a man who had yet to retrieve his escaped Mage. Xander bucked back into his uncle’s chest, frantically groping about for the saddle horn, and held on for dear, bittersweet life. They did not stop until the Silver City was far behind them; Alistair pulled on the reins and commanded Chronus to halt, turning his chin back over his shoulder to gaze at the peaks of gleaming white towers poking their heads out over thick horizons of tree tops. The boy looked up to him with bright eyes, dulled with worry for the man, his shaking simmering down steadily.- “Sire?” –he cooed softly as those light blue eyes grazed from the Templar to where he stared and back.- There is a Gypsy camp near Hyde Lake to the south. We will go there for provisions. –Alistair’s eyes had not faltered, but remained on the tallest of towers that could be seen.- “Provisions, Sire?” –Nodding, the elder of the two turned back to the younger, sliding off of the horse and taking the reins back in his hand, began to lead the steed towards the nearby lake.- Aye. The trip to Moraine be neither long nor rough, but you and I shall be lying low for a while. –He smirked back towards the youngling.- And to do so, you and I shall be needing new clothes. Also, young Xander, Chronus shall be needing to rid of his regal armor. –The boy nodded, silently riding along with tiny, stubby fingers gripping at the saddle horn with all his might. They were soon upon the hamlet village on the shore of the small crystalline lake. Smoke billowed from large bonfires at each end of the beaten-dirt street, a small group of people chattered away as two boys were being ritualistically tattooed with hunter’s marks, goats and chickens roamed around as they pleased, wrinkled, leathery. Elderly women knitted in a circle as their male companions toked away at cob pipes, blowing rings and smoky shapes at one another in a sort of light competition. The pale sparkling water behind the miniscule mass of the village stood still and fine, a contrast to the men dancing around the fire that was closest it, creating a soothing balm-like air about the area. Xander had never seen something so lovely, so peaceful.- “Sire, must we depart this place for the other kingdom? It is so wonderful here, you see, and I was only curious…” –He had caught himself begging, and halted as soon as his uncle’s eye fell upon him. Alistair smirked, continuing on without a word, nodding in a familiar-friendly sort of way at the people who did so to him. He bought ‘new’ clothes from an elderly vendor, giving him the bright silver armor plating from the horse as payment. They were no more than hand-knitted rags that would cover their bodies. Keep them cool in the coming summer. They donned the garb and used the much fancier clothes to pay for provisions: jars of spiced fruits, smoked fish and pork, cured goat meats, bottles of clean, crisp lake water, lush tobacco for Alistair’s pipe that was hinted with orange peel and lemon leaf.- This should last us a while after we arrive. I will have to stay out of sight a few days, camping just outside of the town. Alright? –Xander nodded softly.- You will have the responsibility of shopping about in town for goods. My word is stone, boy, lay low. –They had left the village and come along close enough to Moraine for the young boy to walk on his own to its main square. Which Alistair planned to have him do immediately.- Go now. Familiarize yourself with the valley. ‘Tis quite important you do so when the bustle is low. –Alistair had been constructing a small campfire and setting out blankets they had bought. Xander nodded as he always did.- “Yes, Sire. As you wish.” –The older man’s aggression did him no good just then, his brawny hand leaving a heavy mark on the young lad’s cheek where he smacked him that instant.- Do not call me that here, boy! We shall never have a moment’s rest should someone hear that! –He pondered a moment, thinking up a scheme and voicing it the moment it crawled into his mind.- Ah, yes! You shall go into town, boy, and fetch herbs of medicinal sorts for your aching brother who lies wounded in a camp just outside the valley. –Xander’s cheeks went pink and dug dimples as he grinned widely.- “I didn’t know I had a brother! Where is he?” –Sighing heavily and shaking his head, Alistair pointed at himself.- I am your pretend brother, boy, don’t you see? –It took a few rounds of explanation, but the youngling soon understood his role perfectly, and was sent on his way with a good few Florin and a small bit of advice: avoid all people with hair that matched his. They would be his relatives, and make life difficult, seeing through the rouse. (Except for a woman with ink-stained skin and starry eyes, his ‘brother’ had said. She was an Apostate-loving nitwit and nothing more.) Xander reached the bridge, crossing it swiftly and, after inquiring of it multiple times, located the small stall that sold herbs and spices. The lady vendor was kind and gave him the best medicine she carried for only two Florin. He then began to wander about the market, herbs in hand, dressed in rage with a cap pulled snugly over his crimson hair that would have been flying in wild pieces about his pale, round face.-