Crow took no notice of the wagon slowing down until he saw Penelope tense with concern. He fell silent, listening as unfamiliar voices began speaking outside. A man had greeted William and Abraxas and was asking where they were going. He watched as Penelope peeked over the edge of the cart, only to quickly pull her head back in and announce that they had been confronted by real knights of Younis.

“Oh, shi—” Hartley started, but Crow swiftly covered his mouth. Penelope was right. If they wanted to carry out the mission, they needed to get away before William and Abraxas dragged them down with them. There was no other choice. If they stayed, they would just get caught by the knights; and if they tried to fight, they would either die or put a target on their backs. Sneaking away while the knights were distracted was the option they had.

He followed Penelope’s lead, gathering whatever he could think of in the short amount of time they had: an empty water flask, some bread, flint and firesteel, and a carving knife among other things. Lastly, he grabbed a bedroll, which he shouldered with the bag of supplies. He hoped that between the three of them, they would have everything they needed to get by without the wagon.

Just as he was about to stand up, he cringed. Outside the cart, he could hear William floundering to speak with a Younisian accent. There was a shuffling noise as the other knights—it sounded like a patrol of four men—moved to confront the two Brerratic knights.

“I’m starting to think you’re not from around here,” a Younisian voice said warily. “Mind telling me where you’re from, and how you got those uniforms?”

There was a brief pause before William spoke again, trying a different tactic. “We’re here on official business,” he said, dropping his accent. “Let us through.”

“Hang on a moment… You’re from Brerra, aren’t you?” there was audible tension in the Younisian man’s tone. “Travelers from your land are forbidden, on the authority of our glorious king. Surrender now, imposters!”

Crow could hear the sound of a snap as William’s sword cut loose his and Abraxas’s horses from the wagon. The knight let out a battle cry as he charged the Younisians. Metal clashed against metal as a fight ensued.

“I think that’s our cue,” Crow took the lead as he, Hartley, and Penelope crept down from the wagon bed. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he took off running towards an alleyway between two large buildings. However, before he reached the entrance, he was cut off by a burly man.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the man growled, moving to grab the thief.

[i]Damn these ridiculous peasants,[/i] Crow gritted his teeth as he slipped out of the man’s grasp. He feigned a look of terror and took on his best Younisian accent, “Please, sir! We’re not with them. The imposters took us captive and forced us to help them sneak through Younis, so they could assassinate our glorious king!” He was glad he remembered the way the Younisian knight had referred to their ruler. “Please let us through before they realize we escaped!”

The man wavered for a moment and then nodded, “Follow me. I know just the place to hide.”

“Thank you, sir,” Crow said with relief. He followed as the man led them into the alley, grinning proudly to himself. The natives of Younis were so gullible, he hardly even had to try to fool them.

“That was quick thinking,” Hartley puffed as he ran up next to him. “How’d you do that?”

“Years of practice,” Crow answered simply. “Now be quiet before you give us away.”

At the end of the passage, the man slowed to a stop. He turned to face them and gestured to a small house nestled between two shops, “This is my home. You’re welcome to stay here until you feel ready to move on.” He offered them a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure it must have been tough, being held prisoners by [i]Brerratics[/i].” He practically spat the word. “But I can assure you that you’ll be quite safe here…” He trailed off, knitting his bushy brow in thought. “What were your names?”

“I’m Hartley,” the boy stepped in quickly, introducing himself. He indicated Crow and Penelope in turn, supplying Younisian names, “And this is Dante and Farah. We’re from the town of Dalry.”

“Pleased to meet you. My name is Malcolm,” the man nodded in greeting. “Dalry, you say? That’s quite a distance from here.”

“The Brerratics took us far from home,” Crow lowered his gaze sorrowfully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Malcolm frowned. “Please, come inside. My wife, Lorelle, is preparing dinner. You’re welcome to stay and eat.”