Some time later, Somewhere in eastern Bithia.

When Bob and Arthur passed a suitable river on their way north, they stopped to fill their water bags, and to clean both themselves and their clothes, the lot of which were sorely in need of cleaning.
Arthur found a dark stain on his tunic, one of blood that was not his own.
“Did we really have to kill those men?” Arthur mused aloud. “We could easily have snuck past them, they would never have known.” He said.
Bob looked up from where he was washing his own clothes.
“Maybe, but it is not wise to leave enemies in your rear, especially not with others pursuing you, even less so when they outnumber you.”
The stain refused to give in, sticking relentlessly to the fabric, as if it had found the most comfortable of resting places and had settled there permanently.
“How do you get blood out of your clothes?” He muttered, feeling… dirty.
“Blood stains are tricky,” Bob replied, “Lime or vinegar works best, but still, they often remain, and they are never truly gone. They might fade, but you, who know where they are, will still see them. You can cover them, live with them, but eventually, I just buy a new tunic.” He said thoughtfully, giving Arthur an attempt at a comforting smile.
“It gets easier, kid. But never truly easy, and that's alright, because that's how you know you’re still human.”
“How many people have you killed?” Arthur asked.
Bob looked away, as if deep in thought.
“To be honest, I do not know exactly. I have seen many wars, and not the kind that left me time or capacity to keep track, even had I wanted to, which I did not.”
Arthur nodded, not feeling the need to press further, nor feeling the comfort he had hoped to get from the older man’s experiences.
Bob appeared relieved.
Arthur rested, giving up on the clothes and letting the words sink in.

The road meandered ever onwards, and for the most part, they rode in silence.
Arthur was now twice a killer, something he had yet to make peace with, but he moved forward, as was his destiny.
The forest ever surrounded them, growing only denser as they moved north, and closer to the mountains.
The road was interrupted by frequent bridges of many sizes. This was the wettest part of the western forest, and the frequent rains fueled the many rivers of these lands.
Just after they had crossed the last of the rivers in the kingdom of Bithia, before reaching the border, they stopped at a small town.
It was a busy little place, and there were many people people buying and selling things on the streets. Some were carrying their goods to the river, where they had seen a number of barges tied to poles.
Just as their presence was noticed, Arthur felt an uneasy feeling, as if he would rather be elsewhere. Bob did not seem to share in this feeling.
“Let us find a place to hunker down for the night,” he said, then stopped, as he noticed Arthur’s expression.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“I think we shouldn’t linger here,” He said, and Bob nodded.
“We shall buy supplies and be on our way.” And so they did.
The town was messy, and Arthur noticed many broken windows, busted doors, and even an entirely burned-down building, and Arthur felt tension hanging in the air.
“We are being watched.” Bob said quietly, “Let us make haste.”
Arthur nodded and gestured to a nearby shop, one that had been least affected by whatever had happened.
They bought some salted pork and dried grains.
“What happened here?” Bob asked the store owner.
“Bandits, sir,” The man said, “Came through here a week past, a dozen of them, and not for the first time, I’m afraid.”
Bob handed him the coin.
“Was there nothing to be done?” Arthur asked, “What of your duke?”
The storekeeper nodded.
“Aye, we did send for aid, and aid came, though not as much as we had hoped. Five men were sent to deal with the bandits. These are tough times, and the duke said he couldn’t spare his own men.”
“The soldiers were not the duke's own then? Who were they?” Arthur asked.
The man's forehead wrinkled in thought, and he paused before answering.
“I’m not sure now, they were some sort of knightly order, the beveled bone, or something, my memory’s not what it used to be, not for these matters anyway.”
Bob and Arthur looked at each other.
“Well, we best be going,” Bob said, gesturing towards the door, and they left.
Outside, there was a commotion, and three guardsmen were waiting for them, as well as another, of a more ominous purpose, and easily recognized by the sigl on his chest.
“There, that's the men that killed my companions!” The severant shouted, pointing to them.
“Time to go,” Arthur mumbled, and he and Bob set off at a run.
Some villagers attempted to stop them, but Bob shoved them aside, and they made it to their horses with ease. They did not take the time to untie them, and Bob, with one swift strike of his great sword, severed the ropes, and they rode out of town.

-=-=-

“What is your name, soldier?” Gream asked the lone knight.
They had followed the killers to a town not far from the border with Ducaemia, where they had quickly found traces of their passing, in the form of a surviving member of their order.
“Rudgir, fifth rank knight, my lord,” the man said, saluting Gream. Fifth was the lowest rank in the order, outside of initiates or trainees, but the man was a full member, and now without a commander. Gream returned the salute and announced his own Title.
“Gream Du’Sheine, second rank knight, pleased to make your acquaintance, who was your commander, Rudgir?”
The man relaxed, though, by his expression, recognized his name.
“Kelth DunShin, third rank, my lord,” He said, “They killed them, they killed them all, would have killed me too, but I had stepped away to relieve myself, I returned to find corpses, and killers standing over them, so I hid. I beg forgiveness for my cowardice, my lord.”
Gream sighed, the bastards. He put a hand on the knight's shoulder.
“I knew him personally, though not very well. Those killers will pay for this, that I promise you, son. How many days past was this?”
“Four days, sir, they killed them, and did not know what to do, for I am now alone, so I stayed here.”
“You did good, son, and lament not what is lost, for your companions are with Emina now. They died in service to the severed throne, and they will not have died in vain. You now have a chance to avenge them and return justice to the world. Will you do this, Rudgir? Will you follow me, and bring these killers the death they deserve?”
The young knight nodded.
“Thank you, sir, I will follow you, my captain, my lord, for as long as you’ll have me.”

And so it was that they set off, now four in number, after Gream had purchased a horse for his new warrior.

-=-=-

It was a dark night, with but a sliver of moon in the sky, and even that obscured by dense clouds, and would have been invisible, if not for Bob’s keep owl eyes.
Despite the darkness, he saw much as he soared over the tree tops.
They had made it for him and Arthur, despite the severants on their tail. They hadn’t seen them, but still, Bob felt the need to scout for them, lest they be caught in the night by surprise.
The kid he had met mere weeks ago was growing up quickly, as was the fate of all who were hunted and forced to kill.
He remembered his own first kill as if it were yesterday, and he hadn’t handled it nearly so well, but then again, he had been far more reckless and immature then.
It mattered not, for it had led him to where he needed to be, and he had saved many lives, and he liked to think he still was.
The trees noticed him not as he flew by, for his owl's wings barely disturbed the air, and as he flew, no wind, or even the slightest rustle was produced, and not even the animals noted his passing. But he did notice them, for he was focused on seeing. 
Still, he did not expect to see any severants, so when he did see them, he was taken by surprise.
He had not flown so far, had he?
They were severants without doubt, not only could he see their sigils, but he could feel their souls, and he knew who they were.
He flew back to the camp, where yet Arthur slumbered, in a hurry.

-=-=-

Arthur was startled awake by Bob's rough landing.
“Wake, Arthur,” Bob said aloud, “They are near, we must be going, sooner rather than later.”
Arthur scrambled to get his things. They had not unpacked much, nor did they have much in the first place, so the process was a quick one, and they were back on the road, firmly in the saddles of their horsed in mere minutes.
“How far are they behind us?” Arthur asked.
“A few hours, half a day at the most,” Bob replied, spurring beast to a faster pace.
Snow hurried to match the pace without Arthur needing to prod it.
They had now passed into the kingdom of Ducaemia, and here in the south of said nation, there were few roads, and the one they were on followed the Dacem River, which led only to one place, the nation's capital city, Nal Dalan.
They passed some villages, small ones, and they knew better than to linger for longer than it took to feed their horses and themselves.
The Horses needed at least some hours a day to rest, but they themselves now slept in the saddle. This was fine, because the severants horses would have the same need.
Sleeping on horseback is no easy thing, and it took Arthur two full days and nights without sleep before he could manage it.
On the third day, they made it to the massive gates of Nal Dalan.
“Now what?” He asked Bob, “Do you think we will lose them in the crowd?”
Bob shook his head, slowing beast as they approached the gates.
“I doubt it. Not if they have a tracker, as I suspect, we should meet with the local seeker contact, an eye with whom I am acquainted. Perhaps they can help us mask our trail, or help us to reinforcements, even if not, I would still like to speak with him.”

“Halt!” One of the two guards said, stepping forward to bar their way. The other, the older of the two, angled his spear slightly, as if to block them.
“How may we be of service to you, sir?” Bob asked.
“State your names and business in Nal Dalan.” The man said curtly. He studied Bob's face. “You look familiar, have you come this way before?”
“I am Nome Garith, a knight of Qin, and this here is my squire, Shedrin. We are on route to return to my master's house, across the mountains, and I have indeed been this way before, though not recently. I’m surprised anyone would recognize my face.” Bob lied.
“You two don’t look eastern to me, nor are those eastern names, if you travel under false identities, you'd better make them convincing ones.” The guard said, frowning. The older guard spat on the ground.
“You have a keen eye, sir. We hail from the south, both of us, but I am sworn to duke Cuenshat Ning, of the kingdom of Qin.”
“Hmm,” the guard murmured, and he looked to his companion as if for reassurance. At last, he nodded.
“Fine then, if you say so. But I warn you, the last of the trade caravans left a week past, you can still catch up with them if you leave soon, but if you wait too long, the snows will catch you, and you will be trapped in the mountains until spring, a thing you are not likely to survive.” He said.
“I thank you, sir. We will leave in the morning.” Bob replied, nodding gratefully.
“May Emina guide you.” The guard said, stepping aside.

“What if they had known of this Duke Cuenshat? If he is even real.” Arthur asked Bob when they had passed out of earshot.
“Duke Cuenshat Ning is indeed real, and he would have verified our story given the chance, since he is an ally of Lord Cusac, and I have met him personally. He even knows of all my fake names. Even better is that he is not affiliated with any order or organization that would bring his word into doubt in the eyes of any clandestine organizations trying to hunt down seekers.” Bob explained.
Arthur nodded, it seemed that it had been thoroughly thought through.
“So, where is this contact of yours?” He asked at last.
Bob waited to reply until they reached a quieter part of the quite busy street.
“I’d rather not say in this so crowded place, nor am I sure I will go to him now.”
Arthur felt a change in the man’s mood, and he soon figured out why. Shadows, movements, cloaked figures. They were being followed.
The avenue was wide and long, and there were frequent alleys of varying widths leaving from it in either direction.
In the street, there were many stores selling all sorts of things, seemingly grouped together by means of purpose. Groups of carpenters, groups of butchers, groups of herbalists, and many more.
They rode carefully, lest they knock over some pedestrian.
Snow, too, seemed nervous, as if smelling some hidden predator.
At one point, he was startled by hens in boxes that had been stacked on the side of the street. Arthur was nearly thrown off, and they elected to walk the rest of the way, horses in hand.
“What do your instincts tell you?” Bob asked when they had walked some twenty minutes in silence.
He paused, looking around, feeling nothing of certainty.
“That alley,” he said, “It feels most intuitive, but I am not sure of anything now.”
As they moved towards the narrow alley to the left, he could swear he saw eyes following them. Cloaks he had seen before, faces that stalked them, averting their gaze the moment his eyes moved towards them.
“Let's keep going,” Bob said in a low grumble, “We will have to find our own way after all.”
They kept walking farther into the city's underbelly in hopes of losing whoever it was that was following them, but with no idea what they were running from, they did not know what to avoid.
“Do you have any idea who is after us? Did the severants make it here before us?” Arthur asked.
“Impossible, they would have had to pass us on the road.”
Not knowing where else to go, they walked down alley after alley, looking for places to hide, but finding no such thing, and all the while, the shiver on Arthur's spine grew only more pronounced.
They kept going until, at one point, they reached a dead end. They had turned into the wrong alley this time.
Behind them, they saw the crowd parting and moving in a low rumble.
Bob grabbed him by the shoulder and spoke quickly.
“Listen, whoever is after us, they don’t know who you are. Keep it that way. I wish I could fly with you, or stay with you, but I’m sure they will kill me on sight. I’m going to get help. Stay strong, kid, you’ll be alright.” He said, before releasing him.
Arthur attempted a reply, but Bob had already started to blur, and before he could utter a single word, he flew off, faster than the eye could track.
“What do I do?” He whispered.

-=-=-

As it turned out, their pursuers had been the city guard. They had asked no questions, they had simply taken him, bound his hands, and dragged him through the streets towards the city center, after telling him he was under arrest. They had brought the horses, what became of them, he did not know, but they had taken him to the city dungeon, a grand set of towers surrounded by a mote, not far from the royal palace, the home of the royal family of Ducaemia.
The dungeon was three towers, to be precise, built in a triangle, and each bigger and wider than the last. Between them was a small courtyard, and they were connected by tall walls with barbed wire all over them, on the outside, and the top, that was.
The inside was completely smooth.
They had taken him to the largest of the towers, and instead of taking him up, they had taken him down, underneath the complex.
The block he was in had around a dozen other cells, all of them empty.
His cell was square, and the bars were thick and spaced closely together. They scraped both the top and the bottom of the cell, and there wasn’t an inch of give.
The walls were smeared with all sorts of texts, drawn in blood and excrement, and the ground was covered in fresh straw.
There was no bed, or seat, or anything. If he needed to relieve himself, there was a small hole in the corner of his cell, barely big enough for his fist to fit through, which led to the sewer.
He had been sitting there for around an hour or more when he heard footsteps approaching. He braced himself, getting up from the floor, when two guards arrived. They opened the cell and took him by the arms. His hands were still shackled in front of him, and they dragged him by the chains.
They did not take him particularly far, only up the stairs, to the floor above, and to a small room, this one with a solid wooden door on it, and an iron chair in the middle.
They sat him down on the chair, and chained him to it, first taking off his old chains, and then they left, closing the door behind them.
The room was cold, there were no windows, but still, there was a chill draft flowing from behind him, and the chair too seemed frozen.
He sat there in growing discomfort for some time, he had no way of knowing how long before the guards returned, this time, accompanied by another man.
This man was obviously an officer of some kind, by the superior cut of his robes. He wore the Ducaemian colors of brown, green, and white, but he also wore a small brooch, one of silver, painted raid, with a golden crown on it, and three thick stripes of silver underneath.
The guards carried a small wooden stool into the room and placed it down opposite Arthur. The officer sat down, and the guards left, closing the door behind them.

“So,” The man said, “Shedrin, is it?” He asked.
Arthur nodded. That was the false name Bob had given the guards, they had obviously elected to inform their superiors rather than detaining themselves. He wondered why.
“You were seen with a wanted man,… Shedrin.” He said, pausing to look him over.
The man set down a small wooden crate and drew from it a folder with some papers in it. He looked them over and occasionally gazed over them to study him.
“The man in question is responsible for murder, kidnapping, rebellion, and a number of other unseemly crimes against the empire and its people. Not the least of which, impersonating an imperial agent. So you must understand our concern in seeing you in his presence.”
Arthur said nothing, he had been asked no questions anyway, and the interrogator was obviously baiting him.
“This doesn’t have to end badly for you, Shedrin, if only you cooperate with us.”
That's right, Arthur thought, of course it doesn’t.
“We simply want to know what he told you, and where he is now. Let’s start at the beginning. How did you come to be his companion?”
Arthur said nothing.
“You don’t need to be afraid, if only you tell the truth, no harm can come to you. Let us start with something simpler then. How old are you, son?”
So they don’t know who I am, he thought.
“Seventeen.” He lied.
The man smiled, not unkindly, and scribbled something on his file.
“And where are you from?”
“Kestronis.” He lied again. Referring to the capital of Saretia, a place he had never visited in his life.
The man took another note.
“And what did that man tell you, to compel you to travel so far from your home?”
“I don’t know anything, he just took me with him,” Arthur said.
“He must have told you something of your purpose or destination, or did he force you to come?”
“No, he said he was a knight in service to Duke Cuenshat Ning, of Qin,” Arthur said, repeating what Bob had used earlier, lest he contradict what the man already thought he knew.
“Then you are his apprentice. What spirit chose you, son?”
A light distracted Arthur from the man's face, which he had so far not been able to take his eyes off. The light originated from a ring on the man’s finger. It was silver, simply made, and with a large purple stone set into it, an amethyst, which was not starting to glow.
He felt a force pressing on his mind, as if it was trying to get in.
“None have chosen me, sir,” he was able to say under the strain, “We have trained with naught but the sword so far.”
The man frowned, but said nothing.
Arthur felt a warmth spring from his heart and travel up to his mind, covering it. The force pressing on it was pushed away, and the interrogator closed his folder.
His amethyst ring had gone dim, and he left the room without saying another word.
Arthur was escorted back to his cell.

-=-=-

Gream and his men made it to Nal Dalan at last. He needed only to flash his seal, that of a second rank severant, barely even that, for they could see the sigil on his chest, and they let him in.
“What way did they go?” He asked Nathrin.
After a moment of consideration, the man shook his head.
“There are too many people. I would need a better scent, or a lot more time.”
Very well, he thought, then we will just have to do it the hard way.
“Let’s go then, I will need to go see my uncle.”

“Welcome, my boy!” Brim Kastrell exclaimed, embracing him, as Gream arrived in one of the king's many luxurious meeting chambers.
“The pleasure is all mine, uncle, but I’m afraid I’m here on business,” Gream said, not taking the time to sit down.
“Of course, of course, but you must go see your aunt at least, for she missed you dearly, and talks of you constantly.” The king said.
“And I her,” Gream said, “You can tell her I will come to her soon, but this matter cannot wait.”
The king nodded and gestured for him to sit down.
“Alright then, what is it, son?” He asked.
“I am pursuing a seeker, one escorting a potential usurper no less, one of the more promising of late, I have tracked them to this city.”
“That is indeed of great importance. Now you mention it, the captain of the guard mentioned something to me of a possible seeker, accompanied by some kid. The seeker vanished, but we captured the boy. He is in the dungeon, and being questioned as we speak.”
Gream felt a thrill enter his body, they had caught the miscreant.
“Thank you, uncle! I am certain this is the one we seek. The seeker will get his due, but this usurper must be dealt with at once. Tell Dunya I will see her soon, for I, too, have missed her dearly.”

-=-=-

Arthur sat in his cell. Counting the notches on the rock in the wall, as he had for hours. For a time had attempted to decipher the many ramblings scribbled on the rocks, but had quickly ascertained that they spelled nothing but madness.
He had now been imprisoned for a whole day, and already, he was dying of boredom.
He had yet to hear anything from Bob, and after that first round of questioning, the interrogator had returned thrice, each time attempting to pry something loose with that amethyst of his, failing each time. Arthur had spilled nothing, and that seemed to frustrate him. Arthur feared that soon, they would resort to a more unsavory method.
What bloody misfortune had led him here? He wondered. It is but a matter of time before they find out who I am and kill me. Or those severants catch up, and they kill me. And Bob, he just flew off!
I’ll tell him that bastard should I ever see him again.
The dungeon was utterly silent, except for the rustling of the wind and the occasional scurrying of rats, so when once again guards showed up, he could hear them long before they turned the corner.
Now, too, he heard footsteps approach, they had to be for him, another round of questioning no doubt, though, by the cadence of the steps, they seemed to be in a hurry.
As soon as the footsteps stopped, his cell flew open, and in the opening stood no guard, but a man clad in full armor, a knight, with the Severants' sigil large upon the chest.