Aside from the occasional distant passerby, Altan and Griffins journey to Crags Fort remained uneventful. Altan complained for the first hour of dawn, both about how early it was and about the bruises and scratches littering his body from their sparring the previous night. Griffin insisted Altan learn to wield a sword with at least mediocre skill, delivering a comment about how this place was dangerous, he had to learn to fend for himself, and blah blah blah. The conversation dwindled after that, but the wall of silence that normally stood between them began to erode, and they chatted intermittently.
"So... if Centurion is so bad, isn't there, like, a rebellion or something?" Altan had questioned through a mouthful of dried berries.
"No."
Altan swallowed. "Why?"
"A rebellion implies a gathering of people with a decent moral compass. The ruthlessness and cruelty of Centurion and his men are more than enough to crush the spirit of any do-gooders. They can't compete." Masked venom dripped from his words, "Everyone is too soft to actually follow through with what needs to be done."
"Oh."
The wall rose again.
At noon they stopped by a small creek nestled against the base of a small hill, well out of view of the main road. Though he wouldn't show it, Altan was secretly thankful for a chance to sit down, wincing as a stab of pain shot through his calves and thighs. He sat on his ankles, huffing in pain as he leaned back to stretch out the rapidly growing shin splints. Griffin kneeled by the trickling water, scanning it with a clearly practiced eye. Satisfied, he dipped the two water skins he bought at Wilders Edge into the liquid, though Altan guessed he could probably just use some weird magic to make the water clean if it hadn't been. Shortly after, he goaded Altan into another sword fight, instructing and demonstrating as he guided Altan through various basic movements and combinations. Altan drank up the pride he felt when Griffin commented, with a barely contained impressed look, that he had a pretty natural aptitude for it.
     "I know," he smirked, "I'm just a natural at everything I guess."
        Griffin glared at him, sword poised. The next bought Altan lasted a whole ten seconds before his sword was splashing into the creek. Griffin held the point of his sword against Altans chest, looking at him, then to the creek, then back at him. Memories of their escape down the waterfall three nights ago surfaced. A tiny smile tugged at Griffins lips as he stood back, the sword falling to his side.
        "Everything but swimming."
        Altan laughed.

*    *    *

       As the massive walls protecting Crags Fort loomed closer and closer, Altan tried to keep his shot nerves under check. It wasnt long into evening but the sunset was barricaded by the Splinterback Ridge, casting long dark shadows over him. The dozens of patrolling guards atop the towering walls blended into the rock. He gripped his cloak so it wrapped tighter around his form, less billowy, less noticeable. Forcing himself to breath Altan darted forward, a shadow in the night, though decidedly more noisy, until his back was pressed to the cool surface of gritty stone bricks. He exhaled heavily, every inch of his body alive and tingling. Why am I doing this. He turned, sliding towards where two black-clad guards barred the large gateway. This is stupid. He screwed his eyes shut, attempting to gulp down the dry knot in his throat. I'm going to die. And then he ran.
     He made a show of his presence, deliberately slowing his pace as he darted in front of the guards, then rapidly speeding up as they shouted after him. His heart hammered in time to his pumping legs, and he didn't dare look back, praying both of them were chasing him. Swords hissing from their sheaths and the thunk thunk of arrows motivated Altan to run that much faster, and he nearly lost his footing when a blast of chaotic magical energy blasted into the ground on his right. Despite the darkness, Altan exhibited no restraint in sprinting into a small wooded area outside the city walls. The guards followed hot on his heels as he slid, pivoted, and switched direction cutting sharp to the left.
       "Kinundito Stabit."
       Suddenly the guards skidded to a stop, and even in the darkness Altan could see their eyes blow wide. Soft moonlight glinted off their blades as they fell to the ground, each of them raising their hands to grasp desperately at their throats. Altan watched one of the guards try to mouth what he assumed to be some sort of magical incantation, but all that came out was  pitifully silent choking noises. The other guard had dropped to one knee, face turning blue. Altans heart hammered in his ears. Griffin stepped calmly out from behind a large bush, golden eyes boring into the guards, one hand extended, fingers in an open grasp. As the guards wild eyes shifted from him to Griffin, Altan swore flashes of shocked recognition momentarily took over their expressions. But it was just that-momentary-before panic rapidly settled back in. The eyes of the guard on the ground began to roll.
      The guard on his knees made a shaky attempt for his sword, but Griffin clutched his fist completely, and seconds later they both laid unmoving in crumpled heaps on the ground. Altan tried not to think too much about it, pushing the images of the panic and pleading in their eyes into the darkest corners of his memory. Griffin held his fist there for a few seconds more, before he finally dropped his arm with a huff. He didn't look at Altan as he strode past, kneeling down beside the nearest of the two guards and beginning to fuss with the body.
        "Splendid work." Griffin offered over his shoulder.
       Altan felt too unnerved to respond. He told himself it was because he'd just risked his neck and got chased down by two merciless guards and not because he just watched Griffin strangle them to death in seconds without laying a single finger on them.
        Ten minutes later and they were making their way purposefully back towards the gate, clad head to toe in black armor. They left almost everything behind, including their cloaks and what little else Griffin had been carrying in his recently purchased bag. Altan swapped the sword he'd been training with for one of the guards, a long silver sword clearly of a much better make. Griffin kept his own, concealing its stark unique design by altering the soldiers sheath with magic so it fit his own sword snugly. He cast the spell again that concealed his glowing eyes, and they both pulled down the visors on their helmets to hide their features. They feigned calmness as three guards came rushing towards the gate, swords drawn. The one in front, a shorter girl with curly red hair, stepped forward to meet them. She had bolts of chaotic energy dancing between her fingers and up her forearms, an equally wild look residing in her eyes.
       "What was the yelling for?" She demanded, addressed to Altan.
        "I-"
        "Do I need to alert the others? Are there intruders?"
         "Relax, Audrey." That was one of the other guards. "Let him speak."
          Griffin piped up, butting in before Altan could even have a chance to make a fool of himself. "Just another runner." He spoke a lot less eloquently than normal. "Didn't make it very far."
          "Right." Audrey laughed, visibly calming, "They just don't learn, do they? You'd think the public executions would knock some sense into them but..."
          "Common sense seems to be something these... vermin... lack." Griffin agreed.
          Altan stayed silent as a Griffin and the three guards exchanged a few more words. Eventually, after Griffin again assured them the problem had been handled, they dismissed themselves, stalking back into Crags Fort. As per the plan, Griffin and Altan took post at the gate, pretending to stand guard. Eventually the next shift of guards greeted them with rehearsed pleasantries and tired eyes. They swapped positions without further conversation, and Altan and Griffin walked, unchallenged, into Crags Fort.