The rain was a blessing from the gods.

After a week of sitting in nearly complete silence with seven strangers, only speaking when he murmured his morning and nightly prayers, the rain offered a change of pace. The only other interesting thing had been the horse breaking its leg yesterday, and that had been over and done within minutes. The rain at least offered something to distract him from the fact that his ass hurt from being in the same position for nearly days on end and to wash away the disgusting smell that had steadily grown stronger. He had already identified the trees and plants he could see around him, and what wildlife or monsters could live within them. He had already exhausted himself planning out how he would ambush this caravan with his fellow Horizon Guardsmen. There was only so many times you could identify the same tree and what would live in it, the same plants and how they could be used, or picture the commander's face and stupid mustache being pierced by a crossbow bolt.

The smell seemed to power through the rain, much to Faeril's annoyance, getting worse and worse until Fenks dropped over dead. The plague killed another. Faeril carefully moved as far away from the body as he could, waiting to be let out of the cage. No sudden movements to make their captors twitchy, but he wasn't going to be near a plague victim either, regardless of his own luck in not catching it.

Fenks hadn't seemed like he'd had long left in this world anyways, and Faeril cared more for the fact that it gave them an opportunity to step out into the rain that was falling. Faeril closed his eyes and quietly lifted his head to the sky as the blessings of the gods fell upon him. It felt good to have something wash away the filth he had accumulated. Opening his eyes and watching as they struggled to remove the corpse, he wordlessly muttered a prayer to Gaerim for Fenks' soul. He hadn't known the man, but Fenks hadn't wronged him either. That was worthy enough of a prayer for a quiet death and a happy afterlife. 

All too soon they were put back into the cart, just as the rain began to fall down harder. His fingers tightened into fists and slowly relaxed as the guards shoved him into the wagon. He forced his fury at the treatment down. There wasn't anything he could do but bear their disdainful looks, unnecessary roughness, and insults. His pride was wounded, but it wasn't worth dying over. Still, he couldn't help but think how they wouldn't dare do such if he was armed and ready. They wouldn't have dared do such to a Skywatcher, these swine, much less a Horizon Guardsman. Faeril's eyebrows came down into an even deeper scowl as his back ached. He wasn't a Skywatcher anymore, or a Horizon Guardsman. He was nothing, betrayed by his family and kin.

Faeril cracked a grim smile, the first since he had been sentenced to exile by his own family a month ago, at the discomfort of the guardsmen. Let them suffer through the mud and the rain. Gaundet would reward those who did their duty without complaint and punish those who shirked their duty or whined. Such was the way of the gods. 

As their scenery turned from stone to trees again and their ride became even bumpier (a punishment for his already aching ass), Faeril turned his attention back to his living companions once more. They were mostly unremarkable, but they were what he had to work with. Only two of them were certainly worth anything, the quiet human and the burrahob. Those two seemed like they had gotten their hands dirty before, and could be trusted to do it again as necessary. Not fully trusted though. Dirty hands just as easily stabbed their allies as they did their foes. The giant of a man and the one with a noble bearing had potential, but the could have also just easily been victims of regime purges. Perhaps they lacked the steel to do whatever is necessary. Hopefully they did not. Still, even the cowardly could stab their friends in the back. The woman was almost certainly useless. Faeril wished it had been her instead of Fenks who had died, but the ways of the gods were mysterious. He would have to make do. Maybe he would get lucky, and she would fall over dead just as Fenks had. 

He was not so lucky and the wagon began to slow to a halt once more. Faeril waited patiently as the seconds went by, standing as they were ordered out. Finally they were going to be freed from this damned cart and let out into their exile. Or, a quiet voice whispered in the back of his mind, they were going to be executed here and there. Hidden from even the view of Magni and far from any repercussions that their deaths may bring. Faeril found himself tensing in preparation for the familiar crack of crossbows being fired. If he was to die this day, he would not go without at least one of his captors. 

His mental prayers to Woegrim to grant him the strength to enact his vengeance on his captors were interrupted as the commander road up and threw the keys to their freedom on the ground. Faeril could hardly believe it. They were all gone. They were actually just going to let them go into their exile. The gods had finally decided to smile upon him again after the harsh injustice he had received at the hands of his so called family and comrades.

Faeril waited until the sneering man was fading into the mist before moving. He spat in the direction of the convoy and crouched down to pick up the keys. As he unlocked himself, he muttered prayers of thanks to Magni and his patron, Gaundet. They hadn't turned their backs on him. Freeing himself from his shackles, Faeril handed the keys to the next person and stood for a moment. He silently took it all in and stretched his arms above his shoulders for the first time in what felt like years. A weight was off of him, both physically and mentally. The past was behind him, and even though he could still feel its claws in his back, he could fully focus on his future. 

Turning towards his fellow prisoners, Faeril spoke. "Now that we can talk, my name is Faeril Skywatcher of-" He paused, instinctually bringing his right hand to him and rubbing the top of it. "Well, that doesn't matter anymore. What shall I call all of you, now that we are free?" As he waited for a reply, he kept his eyes moving on the area around them. He didn't want to survive all this only to be killed by bandits or local wildlife. He would have to remember to pray to Boernegar for protection from wild animals. Maybe a sacrifice, if he could find something suitable.