In the valley, the Prince slumped along, half-mesmerized by fatigue. Rest was becoming increasingly difficult for the man to come by, as rocks and dirt draped in dirty, thin and worn purple robes made for a very poor bed. He was also careful of how he slept, for he didn't want to wake up sore. An ailment such as that could sometimes make a huge difference, from what he's experienced, and keeping his body free of physical soreness was just one of the small victories he could easily keep established, even if it meant sacrificing comfort. 

"It's so grey." The man muttered to no one in particular. He would mutter to himself often- he was afraid of forgetting the sound of his own voice. The lack of color in this land was astounding; he was thankful for such vivid imagery in his memories, else he would likely forget what color even [i]was[/i]. He walked slowly with his head tilted down. The sun was to his back- it's faint warmth felt nice on his neck- but such a bleak landscape was difficult to stare at for long periods of time. He shifted the weight of his sheathed blade on his shoulder- he had switched from carrying it on his back to resting the whole thing on his right shoulder, wrist draped over the hilt- as a fisherman would carry his pole or a woodcutter his ax. The young man's belly emitted a faint rumble, though the Prince had only just eaten some of his fruits and tubers he had collected in his pack. He was quickly running low, not that he was eating more than he needed, but rather this valley he had found himself in hadn't offered..[i]anything[/i], really. He had fully accepted that he must look like easy prey right now- no cover, slowly trudging, head down, blade anything but at the ready. 

The Prince cleared his throat and glanced back behind him- still nothing. He let out a quiet sigh and felt his shoulders slump lower. He had started back towards where he had already come from..what, several days ago, now? His original hopes were to put distance between him and the mountain behind him so he could get a better view of the castle he knew lay behind it- but so far, his backtracking had done little but tire him out and waste food and drink. At this point he judged it may be better to simply go back into the forest that was a few days trek further ahead- he could probably scrounge up some more food to replace what he had used, at the very least. Assuming no manner of foul beasts lurked in the trees, of which the Prince was sure there were. It was his suspicion of such that he had avoided it the first time around, anyway. 

As it normally did, his mind began to slip back towards what Tomb had said. [i]'What matters is your pick among the roses,'[/i] it had told him. What did that mean? Should he even bother contemplating the words?

A spur of motion in his peripheral caught his attention and brought his head up- he gripped his sword's hilt tightly. 

A tall stone-like mass stood several hundred yards away. It's glass-like face reflecting the little light there was and offering only a look into the grey ashen valley it stared at. It's form was wrapped in voluminous red cloaks. The color of a rose.

"Tomb." The Prince muttered- not wanting to call that out to the being. The Prince had given it that name, anyway, for in their last conversation it hadn't offered its own. 

The Prince took a few steps towards it but stopped abruptly- its mirror-face was reflecting the light of the sun at the Prince and it was blinding. Was it going to attack this time? As the man recalled, it didn't seem entirely intent on being immediately hostile, hence the conversation. In fact, it was difficult to discern what Tomb's intent was, at all. 

The reflected light ceased after a few moments and the Prince found himself alone. The distant Tomb seemed to have simply..vanished. Did it teleport? The Prince remembered well that Tomb hadn't moved much last time he saw it; that was something that added to its unsettling aura. The Prince had moved on, Tomb watching him as he left, until the being was out of sight entirely. 

The Prince felt like yelling. Or crying. He wasn't sure of the amalgamation of emotions he felt- fear that Tomb appeared as the Prince had thought of it; anger that the stone figure wouldn't allow another question; sadness that more conversation wouldn't be had. He clenched his non-sword holding hand tight and stooped to one knee, gritting his teeth. He felt weak. 

"Damn it all," was all he was able to quietly mutter. The Prince wasn't sure why, but he always felt so afraid to yell, especially in this wide valley with very little to cover oneself with. He reassured himself of his health in his own mind, and given a few minutes the Prince found himself travelling towards the forest once more, his mind plagued with more questions that ever before. At least Tomb got his brain working, he'd give it that.

He was trotting up a deceivingly tall mound when his train of thought was broken by..[i]a voice![/i] The Prince halted his movement. It was faint, but it sounded like the voice's source resided on the other side of this mound. He heard another voice, the second much more faint. 

The Prince crouched and lowered his blade off his shoulder. Clutching it in one hand, he crawled on hands and knees to peek above the peak of the mound- and there they were. The two voices had come from three bodies. [i]Three people?[/i] All this time spent alone, and all of a sudden he comes across the most humanoid things he's seen as of yet. 

An armored man stooped on his polearm- it was a faint tickle, but the Prince almost could remember men wearing similar armor in a memory- the one where he is knelt before the crowned figure, most likely a king. Beside the metal bulwark was a figure clad in black- it was difficult at this distance to discern any distinct features of the two beyond what they were wearing. The third appeared more feminine, judging by the long hair, but it was still tough to tell. She held an axe out at the two.

He wasn't sure what had happened prior to his gazing, but from what the Prince saw now it looked like a post-battle scene. The woman may have attacked the knight, besting him and his...companion? Perhaps she now offered mercy? The Prince hadn't heard any battle, though. Perhaps the speaking he heard were threats and a battle was [i]about[/i] to begin? The Prince couldn't be sure. He tightened his grip on the sword and continued watching, hoping he was adequately covered by the mound.