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The riders didn’t halt their approach as Jorah waited—fairly impatiently—for the Prince and Imogen to clear out of the road, but the much more immediate threat was the approaching Professor Michail, thwacking him on the back of the head with a rolled up map. 

[color=FFAB66][i]“Hey!—”[/i][/color] he exclaimed in protest, scrunching his shoulders up defensively. He watched as Michail metered out the same punishment to both Kayden and Isolde, pouting. Honestly, why the violence? For once, Jorah [i]wasn’t[/i] the one causing trouble—he’d only gone to arm himself like the good upstanding noble heir his father wished he was and tried to get tweedle dee and tweedle Prince [i]out[/i] of the road! 

[color=FFAB66]“For the record, if we’re going to play this game then I’d prefer my assailant to be Euphemia in the dungeon with the riding crop!”[/color] he called after the Knight, though unfortunately his taunt went unheard as the much-awaited riders finally galloped past, coming to a stop in front of the professors. A wave of fear and panic followed them, so potent that even Jorah lost all semblance of levity, struck pin-straight with sudden terror as goosebumps crawled across his body. Sheesh, they really [i]were[/i] fleeing from something, weren’t they?

[color=FFAB66]“Yikes…”[/color] he murmured, trying to loosen the vice on his chest as he watched from his spot by the weapons’ cart as the riders explained their situation. More than once, Jorah’s eye wandered to the first man’s arm, his hand stained red from a few cuts, and his stomach quivered. He could only hear bits and pieces from the conversation, but he didn’t need the details to understand the gist; the thundering heart, the swell of panic, the dreaded uncertainty of what lay ahead or behind—it all washed off the man in waves even from this distance, and Jorah felt it all as if it was [i]his[/i] home he’d been fleeing, [i]his[/i] fellow villagers whose lives hung in the balance. It was a sick feeling, and he took a cautious step back, unconsciously trying to create some distance from the veritable storm of fear raging within the horsemen, only for his back to hit the weapons’ cart, further feeding the tumult within. 

The distant explosion confirmed the men’s story, and a sick sense of worry compounded on the fear and dread, enough to threaten Jorah’s knees to buckle. He could scarcely tear his eyes from the billows of black smoke on the horizon, clutching his bow like a lifeline on a raging sea. 

No sooner had the riders galloped off than Michail raised his voice to the whole group, offering them a choice: stay on the road alone, or go with him to defend a village under attack. By all accounts, it was the stuff of storybooks; a blooming hero in the right place at the right time, cementing their place in the annals of history through a selfless and noble deed. This was what tavern bards sang songs about. By all accounts, it was right up Jorah’s alley—but even though the departure of the riders freed him of the stone that had settled on his chest, it was hard to slip the cold fingers of mortal fear in a mere moment. Shamefully, Jorah was locked in fearful indecision, his feet rooted to the ground. 

Fortunately, he could always rely on his old friend Clarissa to bring him back to his senses when he needed her most. 

[color=FF650E]“I swear to the Goddess, I love you, I really do, but if I have to hear about the absolute depravity that goes through your empty head once more, I will personally separate both your heads from your body, do you understand? Get in the carriage before I drag you there by your ear.”[/color]

A painful, garbled noise escaped Jorah as Clarissa yanked him down by his ear, his former apprehension fleeing in favour of righteous indignation as he was forced to bend awkwardly—and painfully!—to Clarissa’s level. [color=FFAB66]“Saint’s [i]taint,[/i] woman, I’m not even that much taller than you!”[/color] 

Escaping her grip, Jorah rotated out of Clarissa’s reach, noting that a certain sort of fire had taken up residence in his chest where crippling fear had just been. Right, this was Clarissa; she was raring to go, and the sheer volume of her soul had a special way of pushing away any lingering gloom except her own. But she had a point, in her unconscious way: this [i]was[/i] right up Jorah’s alley, wasn’t it? He was an excellent marksman if he did say so himself, and fear? Ha! If anything, he didn’t have enough of it—hence his mother’s prayers for her son to grow some sense throughout his wall-climbing, animal-chasing childhood. Yes, exactly! It wasn’t [i]him[/i] cowering by the weapons’ cart, it was the lingering fear he’d borrowed from those riders. [i]They[/i] were the ones scared out of their skins, not him. 

[color=FFAB66]“And anyway, no need to threaten violence. If you want attention from either of my heads, you know you only need to ask,”[/color] Jorah teased, considerably more himself than before. [color=FFAB66]“Jealousy is unbecoming of a woman of your stature, you know.”[/color] 

It took everything in Clarissa’s power not to knee her friend right in the groin. He was so frustratingly aggravating that she didn’t know how in the Goddess’ grace she managed to survive his friendship this long. She settled for a punch to the arm. [color=FF650E]“You disgust me. If you never suggest that again, it will be too soon.”[/color] She snapped, grabbing a sword from the supplies and scowled. [color=FF650E]“If you could focus on the upcoming battle, it’d be greatly appreciated you damned louse.”[/color] She huffed as she made her way to the carriage.

Jorah could help himself, a self-satisfied grin cracking through his mock-serious expression even as he rubbed the burning spot on his arm, boyish giggles worming their way out of his throat. She was so mad! He could feel her anger and disgust poking at the edges of her resolve, but that only made it funnier. After so many years, he’d have thought she’d grown numb to his teasing, but she was as receptive as ever. It would be heartwarming if it wasn’t so damn funny. 

[color=FFAB66]“Such cruel words to send a man to his likely death,”[/color] he lamented, feet lighter and still grinning as he skipped to the carriage on her heels. 

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