"Oi! Stay still! You're making this hard."
"I'm sorry." Altan hissed, relaxing back into Jarret's healing touch, "It hurts."
Jarret sighed, and he leaned back in, sealing the last of the wound on Altan's calf. The tissue began to scar, but it would be healed. Jarret was a lanky individual, with a long shock of black hair pulled into a ponytail. Black needle and poke tattoos covered his tan skin, depicting sigils and markings that undoubtedly held some sort of encrypted meaning. He carried long daggers at his side, and struck Altan as a spry individual he wouldn't want to meet in an alley late at night.
"Hey, keep it down over there." Finn hushed, peering through the thin wooden shutters suspiciously. He backed away from the window. "We're not out of the woods yet. If you lot get me found out, and I lose this tavern, so help me..."
Finn was the tavern keeper. Young, muscular, and tall, Altan figured he was pretty popular amongst the ladies. He has a long scar that ran across the bridge of his nose, and despite his age, looked like he had seen his fair share of fights. He was naturally wary, and resigned himself to sitting on a stool by the squat windows, constantly peering outside to monitor the patrolling guards.
"This is insane." Clara muttered, gingerly wiping the dirt from Sophie's face with a damp cloth. "You poor thing. Don't fret, dear. We'll get you back home."
Clara was a stout woman, middle age, with kind eyes and a loving touch. It made Altan wonder how such a sweet lady could get into kahoots with someone like Bridget. Regardless, she was here, and spent her time off to the side with Sophie. She cooed and comforted her, cleaning the grit and grime from her fragile body, feeding her warm fresh bread and stew, and entertaining her with small illusory magic. Despite the looming danger, Sophie seemed content, and happy to be momentarily distracted from the harsh reality she found herself in.
There was one other in the room with them. The unnamed soldier sat brooding in a corner, arms crossed, her expressionless helmet regarding Altan with bleak indifference. She seemed more interested in Knax than anything. A spy under Bridget's command who had wormed her way high into the ranks of the Black Guard, she'd said little to nothing since being summoned, and was so blatantly uninterested in the situation that it made Altan's skin crawl. The secrecy regarding her name was for the sake of security, however for the purposes of their temporary alliance, her alias was Epsilon.
This was the ramshackle troupe that Finn, the barkeep, had assembled to aide in Altan's cause. Each of the four either owed something or answered directly to Bridget, face of the criminal underworld in Arcrose. Despite being shady individuals themselves, Altan found that fact to be comforting, and oddly he'd trust this bunch more than anyone.
Epsilon finished healing the last of Altan's wounds and sat back with a huff, wiping perspiration from his brow. "Done."
"Thank you." Altan nodded, inspecting the new scar on his calf. "I feel a lot better."
Before anyone else could speak, Finn reinserted himself into the conversation, apparently satisfied after hours of surveying the dark streets that they wouldn't be bothered.
"Alright. Let's talk game here." He announced, dragging the stool to the middle of the floor so that he could gather everybody's attention. "I have confirmed that helping Altan, and by virtue of that saving Prince Griffin, is indeed in Bridget's and therefore our interest. Agreed?"
Everybody nodded.
"Good. So, here's the plan. We have precious little time, and we must work quickly. Epsilon has informed us that Prince Griffin is likely being held within the deepest layer of the jail. The Prince is regarded as an extremely dangerous individual, and so special transport with enchanted restraints will be required for his transport to the capital for public execution. Although it will take some time both for word to reach the capital and for that transport to arrive, it has already been four days. Our estimate is that it will take eight days for the appropriate means to arrive for his transports, which leaves us with four remaining to get everything done.
Clara will take Sophie and ensure her safe return to her father in Keld. Although her actions were incredibly foolish, her only intent was to help support her struggling father financially by snitching on The Prince. She is too young to understand the gravity of the situation, and it should not be held against her."
Everybody mumbled their agreements. Altan bit back his disgust of the notion they would even think about hurting her for her mistake.
"Jarret. You will take Knax and await Altan and Prince Griffin's escape from well outside the cities bounds. Keep a low profile, and then when they have reached you safely, bring them to Bridget at The Takeover. The second they realize Prince Griffin is gone, every soldier, every monster in a hundred miles will hunt for you. So move quick, your life depends on it."
Jarret nodded and Altan, feeling overwhelmed with the weight of the task, decided not to ask what The Takeover was. His part was coming up next.
"Epsilon. You will bring Altan back to Scorchshield with the story that you captured Prince Griffin's runaway companion attempting to escape to Aria for equal transportation, interrogation, and execution at the capital. You will escort him personally into the depths of the prison, release Prince Griffin, and help cover their escape. Every single guard will be slain in their escape, that I can promise. So, you will be the one to have stumbled across the massacre, and notify those higher to avoid suspicion on your part. After, of course, some time has passed to allow them a real chance to escape. Altan. You will-"
      "No."
      Everybody's eyes darted to Epsilon.
      Finn glared at her. "What?"
      "I said no." Epsilon maintained. "This is suicide. I am loyal to Bridget, but I am not stupid. Even if I can spin some crap about why I happen to be the only guardsman left alive, or the one to 'stumble upon the massacre' as you say, then my competence will be questioned. I will be lucky to be stripped of my position and not my life for such a folly. You do not understand how merciless Centurion rules. And at the end of the day, if I am held responsible for the escape of the Prince, then I can guarantee that my unique position and services to Bridget will cease to exist."
       "Epsilon-"
        "AND." She interjected, stepping aggressively right into Altan's space, "I don't trust him. I have never heard of you in my life and I have been serving Bridget since I was eleven when she saved my life from those bastard Black Guard. I have never heard of you from the thick of the Black Guard elite, who have been hunting Prince Griffin for years. And suddenly, when he was presumed dead after being missing for nearly a decade, he reappears with some rando travelling by his side. Who are you that he could possibly trust so much as to not only entrust with his sword," she pointed accusingly at the elegant weapon, laid across his back, "but his life, and yet be known by no one? What skills do you posses, what purpose could you possibly serve to him? To Bridget? WHO ARE YOU.  And why are you worth my life?"
      All eyes were on him now.
      Anyone else in Altan's position might have felt scared. Embarrassed. Intimidated. But all Altan could feel was pure, unbridled anger.
       "Who am I?" He repeated slowly, glaring through the slits of her cold, expressionless visor. "I am nobody."
      He spat the word with such venom, such hatred that even Epsilon seemed taken aback. "What?"
      "Nobody." Altan said through barred teeth. "I am nobody, yet I have been hunted by Whisperhounds that you control. I have been thrown off a waterfall. Have had my lungs and body shredded by stone. Been attacked by a thunderbird, and been kidnapped by thieves. I have been tormented by nightmares, nearly been shoved into a pit of lava, and have had my finger amputated. I have stolen, I have killed. I have trekked days, weeks fearing for my life with no food, no comfort, no shelter. I have sustained injuries that under any other circumstances should have left me broken, bleeding, and dying alone. I am nobody and yet I have put my life of the line over, and over, and over again to protect your Prince. I have nothing to my name but this STUPID. RING." Altan cried, ripping his precious black onyx diamond ring from his finger, where it had sat as a symbol of his status for so many years. His namesake. His past. He shoved it into Epsilon's chest, and she grabbed the expensive ring, gawking at the studded diamonds. "You want compensation? Here. TAKE IT. It doesn't matter anymore. I have had my life, my everything taken from me, and now I am preparing to give whatever the fuck is left of it to save him."
"...."
Not a flea dared break the silence Altan left after him. Until finally, Epsilon moved. Pocketing the ring, she turned, and strode out the door.
"We leave tomorrow at dawn."