"Hero" was not a word Jehan would ever use to describe himself, but it was all the villagers seemed to refer to him as once they arrived. Both he and Lazlo had been on the receiving end of the warmest welcome he'd ever gotten—even from his own hometown—and, once Jordi had told everyone what had happened, they had been showered in thanks and even offered free room and board once Lazlo mentioned that they needed a place to stay for the night

Really, it all made Jehan terrifically uncomfortable.

After all, it was Lazlo who had performed the miracle of fixing Sophia's leg. He'd just done a bit of gruntwork with getting the cart out of the ditch. But when he'd tried to say as much, Lazlo just teased him for being modest. He wasn't sure if the man was trying to be nice or playing some sort of trick on him. Either way, he wasn't helping Jehan's discomfort any.

The fervor around them died down around dinnertime, when the innkeeper ushered them inside for a warm meal, even shooing off a few of her "regulars" to the side in order to free up two seats. As Lazlo shrugged off his coat, Jehan found his chance to talk to him.

"Will you please tell them that you're the hero?" he whispered. "I don't deserve any of this."

Lazlo's eyebrows rose. "Sure you do. You helped me get the cart out of the ditch"

"Yeah, but you're the one who saved the horse and fixed the wheel. Anyone can push a cart out of a ditch."

Lazlo smiled as he took off his hat, ruffling his hair as he did. "I suppose. But would anyone help?"

"Certainly."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But the point is, you did. And that's plenty deserving of praise." He took Jehan's arm, guiding him back toward the bar as he added in a low voice, "Besides, you don't want to turn your nose up at others' kindness. It's not fair to the people offering."

It was a dirty trick, saying that as they walked to the bar, because the innkeeper brought them both steaming plates of roast, potatoes and parsnips, and Jehan's growling stomach drowned out any argument he had. He managed to send Lazlo a petulant look, but it went unnoticed; Lazlo had already given the innkeeper a warm thanks before digging into his food like a starving man. Jehan sighed, but he soon followed suit, forgetting his discomfort with the first mouthful of food—he must not have had a proper meal since the day he sat with the dead man.

"Oi, you poor things are practically skin and bone," the innkeeper tutted as she brought them each a tankard of ale. "It's tough work, finding your fortunes."

Jehan looked up, swallowing a mouthful of parsnip. "Oh, no, we're not finding any fortunes. Well, I'm not, at least. I'm just looking for work." He looked up as a man nearby laughed.

"What, you got a girl to support already?"

Jehan went red. "No. I've just no interest in fortunes or anything like that. I just want some honest work and a place to settle."

The man sent him an amused, somewhat mocking look. "A young man like you? You've got no ties, right?" He shook his head as he drained his tankard. "Imagine, all that youth and just frittering it away."

Jehan set his jaw. "I don't believe in fool's errands."

"Ah, so you're a coward is what I'm hearing."

Jehan started to stand up, but Lazlo, mid-sip of his ale, set a hand on his shoulder and sat him back down with surprising strength. He leaned back to get between the two. "Forgive my friend. He's just lost someone dear, and it's the first time he's left home," he said, voice pleasant but firm enough to stop the argument. "Jehan's right, though. Some honest work is what we're looking for. So if you need some able-bodied young men—or not so young, in my case—we're more than available."

"Well, our apologies for Eikur here. Fool thinks everyone's living in a fairy tale," another man said, giving Eikur a shove.

"But as you can see, we're a tiny place," the innkeeper said, giving an apologetic shrug. "We've got more'n enough workers in town. Practically fit to bursting, really."

"That's fine," Jehan said quickly, silently thanking God for that. He might go mad if he had to live with hero-worshiping fairy tale believers. "We'll just continue to the east, then."

"The east?" Eikur perked up, leaning against the bar to look at Jehan again. "Then you have no excuse not to find your fortune. Go to where the sky bleeds gold, and you'll find the chance of a lifetime." He chuckled. "So long as you don't fall in love with the princess."

The others at the bar shushed him, but despite every instinct telling Jehan not to ask, his curiosity got the better of him. "Where the sky bleeds gold?"

"The drunk fancies himself a poet," the apologetic man from earlier said with a deep sigh. "He's talking about Albiorn, they've got near constant sunshowers over there."

"And a princess to be won," Eikur added, grinning as everyone shushed him again.

Jehan ignored him, looking down at his untouched tankard as he thought. Well, even if a drunkard was the one recommending it, it was at least a concrete place to head toward.

"How far away is Albiorn?' he asked. The innkeeper looked to a few of the other patrons, a shadow of worry crossing her face.

"It's about a two day journey, three days by foot," she said slowly. "But...it's not somewhere I'd say you should work."

"They do have a shortage of able-bodied young men," one man said wryly, earning a shushing himself.

"Why?" Jehan asked.

The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably. "Well, rumor has it that any and all men are welcome to court the princess. But if they fail to win her favor, she has them put to death."

Jehan recoiled. "That's horrible."

"It's a rumor," the innkeeper repeated firmly. "But, well, something is wrong there, that's for sure."

Lazlo, who'd been still as a statue through the whole conversation, suddenly sat up straight. "Well, we're going to be off early," he said brusquely," and I'm shattered from the day. If you don't mind, I think I'll head up to the room." He tilted his head. "Oh, and I spoke to Iona earlier. Did she...?"

The innkeeper waved with a smile. "Everything's taken care of. You've earned your rest today, the both of you have."

Lazlo got to his feet, then looked down at Jehan curiously. "Are you coming, too? No need if you're not feeling ti—"

"Yes." Jehan cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah, I'm tired, too." He got to his feet, trying not to notice the way Eikur was staring at him, as if he'd just won some great prize. He followed Lazlo to the coat rack, and stayed close as they headed up the stairs.

"Nice people," Lazlo said as he silently counted the doors.

"I suppose." Jehan gave his head a shake, then lowered his voice. "Am I the only one of us who thinks this place is strange? That fella downstairs was giving me chills."

Lazlo smiled as he found their door. "There's always types like that. You shouldn't have been so obvious about wanting to go to Albiorn, now he thinks he's won," he said breezily. "But I wouldn't dwell on it. Seeing a real bed is much more exciting in my book; I don't think I've ever been so excited to sleep before."

Their room was simple, with two beds and a basin full of warm water, and the innkeeper's daughter had already brought up what little they'd had. On one of the beds was a cluster of tiny daisies. Jehan laughed lightly as he picked one of the flowers up.

"Well, looks like one of us has an admirer," he said. "All the hero talk must have gotten to someone's head."

Lazlo looked over. "Ah! That's for me, actually. I asked the daughter to bring some up." He gathered up the flowers. "Feverfew. Good for fevers and aches, and apparently it grows like weeds out here."

Jehan smiled as he sat down on the other bed, handing his flower back to Lazlo. "You know an awful lot about plants, don't you? Are you some kind of herbalist?"

"Me? Oh no, that was my grandmother." Lazlo smiled a bit as he looked at the flower for a moment. "And, well, when you've had the life I've had, you find you know a lot of things without knowing you know it."

Jehan's smile faded. "Like how you knew about my dad."

"What?'

"Downstairs, when I started arguing with that fella. You said I'd lost someone and it was my first time away from home." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "How'd you know that?"

Lazlo blinked, and he was silent for a moment as he sat down on the other bed, across from Jehan. After a moment, he sighed, absently twirling the flower still in his hand.

"Well, I haven't wanted to pry, but I've lived a lot more life than you." He flicked a stray hair out of his face with a small smile. "I've got the gray in my hair to prove it." He grew serious, and his dark eyes fixed themselves on Jehan, soft but still feeling as though they were boring straight through him. "I know grief, and I know uncertainty. I didn't know it was your father, exactly, but I knew it had to be someone you were close to."

"I wasn't that close to my father," Jehan said quickly. "I mean, he was a good man. But he never put much stock in emotion or affection, I suppose." His mouth twitched. "I didn't even cry at his funeral. He wouldn't have wanted me to, honestly."

"But things are different without him," Lazlo said gently. "Grieving the person is hard enough, but the change is even harder." He got to his feet, going toward his pack to put the flowers away. "Personally, I think every change brings grief, even the good ones. And there's no harm in mourning for the life you used to have." He paused for a moment, shoulders sagging for just a moment. "I'm still mourning mine, and the one I have now is a vast improvement."

Jehan laid back on the bed, staring hard at the ceiling and looking for any possible way to change the subject. But...things were different. No more early mornings on the farm, no more stilted but comfortable talks by the fire. He hadn't really had a moment to consider that since his father died. And...he wasn't sure if he wanted to. At least, not with a near-stranger in the room.

"What was that life?" he asked after clearing his throat, propping himself up on an elbow. "Before you started heading east?"

Lazlo glanced back at him, then shrugged as he sat back down on the bed. "Oh, nothing to really write home about. Left my family, fell into a bad crowd and made a good deal of mistakes. Now I'm trying to get past that." He sighed as he rested his hands behind his head. "I've got a decent amount to atone for. I hope what I'm doing will cover it."

"Are you a murderer?" Jehan blurted. Which, he realized, was stupid, because a murderer wouldn't say he was a murderer, now would he? But the laughter that burst out of Lazlo did assuage him a little bit.

"No! No, no no. I don't have that much to atone for!" The words nearly didn't get out amidst Lazlo's giggles, and he shook his head. "Good lord, been a while since I've laughed so hard." He turned his head to look at Jehan, giving him a big grin as he tried to stop laughing. "No, no. I've done a few wrongs, but all in the past and all to people you'll likely never meet." He sobered a touch, looking at Jehan very seriously. "But I promise, you are absolutely safe with me."

And Jehan believed him. Really, if he'd born any kind of ill will, he likely wouldn't have warned him about sleeping out in the open. He smiled a bit, then kicked off his boots before properly pulling himself up onto the bed.

"Well, no matter what life you had before, I think you're a good man now. And while I know I'm not much of a threat, you're safe with me, too." He looked up at him as he got under the blankets. "And that's really all you need with traveling companions, isn't it?"

It was hard to read the expression on Lazlo's face, but it looked somewhere close to...touched? Grateful? Either way, Jehan was far too tired to dwell on it. They were leaving early tomorrow, after all.

Off to where the sky bled gold.