Cicero could always tell when something was wrong. It was almost a sixth sense, her military training combined with the training she'd received from her mentor/father figure helping to have developed it. As she approached the town, she noticed that it was lacking in several things. One, the hustle and bustle in the streets was not there. The streets were completely empty. And the weather was absolutely perfect. Her clawed hand slowly drifted down to the hilt of her weapon as she advanced into the town.

The female Gryphon was scarcely equipped, possessing only a small supply pack, a short sword, and her leather armor. Her appearance alone had been enough to dissuade most bandits from harassing her, but there had been times when common sense had not prevailed in the minds of the bandits.

As she walked, she began to take stock of the town. There was no sign of any structural damage, save for common wood rot, which meant the town wasn't in mourning after some bandit raid. Flags still flew from some areas, so chances were there was no mourning at all. So, the Gryphon could come to one conclusion. Fear was keeping the people of the village indoors. But fear of what?

"You there! Halt!"
Right on cue.

Cicero casually turned towards the sound of the voice, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. A Peacock, flanked by two Eagles and all three dressed in black robes, approached her. They carried no visible weapons though, which led her to believe she was dealing with magic users.

"Hello gentlemen." Cicero greeted, trying to avoid her hand straying to her weapon again.

The three quickly surrounded her, fingers taking on odd poses. Yep, definitely magic users.

"Do not speak unless spoken to, Halfling." One of the Eagles said.

"Now, state your name and your business." The Peacock added.

"My name is Cicero Shieldsong, and I'm."

She stopped as the trio let out a pompous snicker.

"Cicero is your name? Could your mother not tell the difference between a male and a female at your birth?" One of the eagles cawed.

"I can understand the confusion. Such manish features for a woman. Unless. you aren't a woman and simply wear armor designed for a female and possess such an unfortunately high pitched voice." The Peacock added.

Patience wearing thin.

",and I'm just passing through." She finished. She was just waiting for them to give her an excuse to cut them down.

But her second response obviously didn't sit well with the three birds, as their expressions stiffened.

"Just passing through? I would hardly think you'd stop off here just to pass through." One of the Eagles said suspiciously.

"Are you perhaps. meeting someone here? A contact perhaps" The Peacock suggested.

"No. I'm passing through. I'm going to spend the night at the inn and leave tomorrow." Cicero clarified.

"Or did I talk too fast?"

One of the Eagles struck her across the beak. Not that it hurt much, but it was definitely unexpected.

"You will not address your superiors in such a way, Halfling!" The Eagle shouted.

"I believe we have enough evidence to confirm she'd indeed a rebel. Take her away." The Peacock said dismissively.

Cicero reached for her sword, but she let out a grunt of pain as some kind of impact
spell hit her in the gut, bringing her down to her knees. Normally she was pretty resistant to pain, but THAT had hurt.

Already the Eagles had moved on either side of her, grabbing her arms tightly. She began to beat at them with her wings, but that just began to annoy them, and that earned her another spell to the gut.

"Stop!"

The Eagles stopped, both them and the Peacock turning towards the new voice. Cicero craned her head, trying to see who had spoken.

Walking from out of the inn stood a Lion, dressed for combat much like she was.

"What is the meaning of this? You dare interfere with Plutarian business?"

Plutarian? Plutaris? So Cicero had crossed the border from her own country. She'd begun to suspect as much. Probably not her best decision.

"I can vouch for her, and she's no rebel." The lion continued.

Cicero wondered if she'd ever met him before, because he wasn't ringing a bell.

"And what evidence do you have to support this?" One of the Eagle's asked, his hand readying for a spell.

"I know her. She's a member of an entirely different country's military, and wasn't even born here. What role would she play in your country's current civil crisis?"

Cicero was now really interested in just who this guy was and how he knew so much about her?

The Eagles looked to their leader, who looked deep in thought.

".Release her." He eventually said.

The Eagles did so without question, dropping her onto the ground roughly.

"Consider yourself lucky, Halfling, that we have changed our minds. You may now grovel and thank us for our mercy."

Cicero would do no such thing. But as she made to stand, a weaker version of the impact spell hit her.

"That wasn't a suggestion." The Peacock said threateningly.

Cicero groaned, but turned her head towards them.

"Thank you for your mercy." She said. She wondered if she could hit him lethally enough if she threw her sword.

"I suppose that will do. Move along now. And know that we'll be keeping a close eye on the both of you."

The three turned and strode off, disappearing into one of the alleyways of the town.

"They can't very well keep an eye on me if they don't know what they're looking for." The Lion chuckled, walking over to help Cicero up.

"Thanks." Cicero said to him as he helped her off the ground, the gryphon ensuring all her feathers were still in order.

"Now, who are you and how do you know me?"

"Cicero, I'm surprised at you. Already forgotten me have you?"

The Lion's entire form began to squirm and shift like some kind of ooze, his appearance beginning to shift until eventually, the form change was complete, and in the lion's place stood a tall, toned Gryphon, his feathers grey though instead of like Cicero's brown.

"Fafnear." Cicero smiled, embracing her father figure.

"It's been a while."

"A year is not so long in the grand scheme of things Cicero." The Gryphon waved off.

"But yes, it is good to see you as well."

Cicero pulled away, regaining her composure.

"Why are you here though? And just who were those people?"

"Those were members of the Plutarian inquisition. Cruel group they are. They seize practically any foreigners they can. What happens to them after that, I don't know. And as to why I'm here?"

Fafnear glanced around.

"I suppose we'd best talk inside. Come, I have a room at the inn."

---

The inside of the inn definitely had a different mood than the rest of the town. The patrons talked, laughed, and gambled. All that was missing was a bard to provide music.

Fafnear, now back in Lion form, led Cicero over to one of the open tables, directing her to sit down across from him.

"I must say, I never would have expected to run into you here, Cicero." Fafnear began.

"And although I have no need of your assistance, having you around is comforting."

"So, are you going to tell me just what's happening around here? And why did those three inquisitors feel so threatened by me?" Cicero asked, getting right down to business.

"Yes, I do owe you a thorough explanation now that you're wrapped up in all this."

Fafnear paused, as if thinking how to proceed.

"Several months ago, I heard rumor of an ongoing civil crisis here in Plutaris. And while I tend not to put much stock in rumors, this one intrigued me. Even so, it wasn't until a month and a half ago that I finally came here to find that the rumors were true."

Cicero listened to her mentor with rapt attention.

"But why haven't you left yet? I understand if maybe you would like to stick around and observe the war play out, but you saw how those three birds reacted to me. They're really on edge. They could have taken you prisoner like they tried me, or worse."

"An excellent question." Fafnear said, his eyes glancing around to make sure they were still not being eavesdropped on. Clearly he was about to reveal something very crucial.

"One of the key figures in the resistance that the Plutarian monarchy is fighting against is an old war veteran, and a good friend of mine. His real name is Mordechai Bowman, but he went by an alias when I knew him. His alias is Malachi Strongman, which happens to be the same name of the resistance leader in this area. I came here to see if it could be him. He'd be very old by now. Nearly seventy."

"You came here just because someone's name happens to match an alias of an old friend?" Cicero asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Fafnear, I would've thought you'd analyze the situation more before doing anything brash."

"I acted rashly, I can admit that now. Perhaps too much so. But my shapeshifting ability has come in handy for evading the inquisition." Fafnear explained.

"And as to why I haven't left yet, I. still haven't been able to make contact with the resistance. They're an elusive group, that much is certain. But I have a strong lead that one of their agents is currently here in this town. And I hope to find him."

"And what will you do then if it turns out to be your old friend?" Cicero asked.

"Then I'll join him in his fight to defeat the monarchy of course." Fafnear answered resolutely.

"He was never one to fight for the dishonorable side, so fighting with him will likely be the honorable choice, though I'm not stupid enough to not at least hear their side of the story, as I've already heard the monarchy's side."

Cicero chuckled at that declaration, a fire brimming in her eyes.

"If it comes to that, then you can count me in too."

Fafnear had expected an answer like that from Cicero, and had prepared an appropriate response.

"No, Cicero. This is a personal quest, and I'd never forgive myself if you died. You aren't coming. In fact, I'd recommend you leave this country as soon as you're able."

But Cicero had expected a block like that from Fafnear, and had prepared an appropriate response.

"I'm not the cowering Gryphlet I was when you found me Fafnear. I'm a fully grown, battle hardened Gryphoness, and I didn't earn the name Shieldsong from cowardice in the face of conflict." Cicero said confidently.

"Besides, you definitely aren't a young, fit soldier, even if you don't really age."

"Oh believe me, I age." Fafnear chuckled.

"But you make a valid point. However, you can't hide as easily as I can. If you follow me into this, then you'll be known to the Plutarian inquisition, and there's no guarantee that when this is all over that any survivors on the monarchy's side will not make attempts on your life."

"Attempts that won't be successful." Cicero smirked, knowing that she'd won Fafnear over.

"Besides, there won't be any survivors to worry about if we don't leave any."

"I applaud your eagerness for combat, but there's a fine line between bravery and foolishness." Fafnear ridiculed.

"But. you've made your point. I will allow you to accompany me, on two conditions though."

Fafnear leaned forward.

"If I tell you to run, then you will run. If I tell you to hide, then you WILL hide. And if I tell you to save yourself, then you'll do it. Understood, Cicero?"

"Yes, I understand." The Gryphoness nodded.

"And what's the second condition?"

A smirk graced Fafnear's face as he sat back in his chair.

"This inn is rather un-lively, wouldn't you say? Sure, the people are drinking and talking, but there's something missing. But what?"

"Mus. oh, no. Not happening." Cicero said, realizing where this was going.

"Oh come now, you won't grace your old mentor with even a single song? I haven't heard your voice for quite some time."

"I thought a year wasn't much time in the grand scheme of things?" Cicero retorted, quoting Fafnear's earlier statement.

"Well, I can't force you to sing if you don't want to. But I suppose that means I'll just have to go alone on my quest, since it shows you're unwilling to listen to my orders." Fafnear sighed in mock disappointment.

"Oh, very well. But just one song." She grumbled.

"Excellent." Fafnear beamed, reaching under the table to where his travel pack rested, from which he pulled out a compact lute.

"Just tell me the song you plan to sing, and I'll provide the background music."

"You certainly came prepared. I wonder if you knew I'd end up here." Cicero chuckled standing up from her seat.

"I'll go with. The Well Groomed Beggar of Yush." She said, that Peacock from earlier still fresh on her mind.

"Oh, good choice." Fafnear said, tuning the lute to that said song.

Cicero rolled her eyes at her mentor, walking up to the hearth of the inn. A few glances were cast her way, though no one seemed to pay her much attention yet.

She cleared her throat, and began to sing.

"In the quaint town of Yush, lived an odd sort of bird. A beggar of a kind which no one had heard."

Practically all conversation died down as Cicero's beautiful voice carried across the inn.

He dressed like a lord, on good food he would gorge, but not a house this bird had where he could board."

Fafnear strummed away on the lute, smiling joyously to himself as she sang.

"The people of Yush were very charitable you see, so any beggar could soon live like a king.

But the people paid no mind to the well-groomed beggar of Yush, so gave they did while he slept in a bush."

The song/tale continued, the people of the inn laughing at some parts, tapping their feet to the rhythm. And yet when the song was over, and the revelers clapped for Cicero's performance, they chanted for more.

And who was Cicero to turn them down?

---

Cicero ended up taking the bed in the room with Fafnear, while he simply morphed into a sheep and slept on the floor. But Cicero's military lifestyle really only resulted in her getting 6 hours of sleep before she woke up, already prepping her gear in the case they had to make a quick getaway. A note on the door, written in Fafnear's own personal code, instructed her to stay at the inn until he got back from trying to find the resistance contact in the town. Which meant. Cicero would just have to wait.

She wasn't impatient by any stretch, but she got bored very quickly. And sitting around here while her mentor was out doing the work didn't sit well with her. Still, orders were orders. She just sat on the bed, singing softly to herself to pass the time.

Her mind drifted back to the days when Fafnear had been so insistent on teaching her magic, and all she wanted to learn to do was fight with a sword. He'd been pretty dismayed when she'd told him of her intention to join the army, but he'd also been so proud to hear of her victories.

The last time she'd seen him had only been for a brief day. And now, she would be journeying with him again, just like old times. Except this time, she was in enemy territory, and her enemies had already taken her down once.

A knocking at the door snapped the Gryphoness out of her thoughts. Gripping her shortsword, which she had lain on her bed for cleaning, she slowly stood off the bed.

"Who is it?" She asked casually, though she was tensed and ready to attack if the need arose.

"Fafnear." The familiar voice responded.

"Meet me downstairs in the main room. I'll be in my Gryphon form."

"Yes Fafnear." Cicero said, standing up, re-equipping her armor on over her simple linen shirt and breeches she wore underneath the armor. She just didn't feel comfortable going around unarmored. And considering how the linen clothing was essentially her underwear, it just wouldn't feel right.

Upon re-equipping her gear, she left the room and returned to the same area of the inn she'd sung in yesterday.

It was a lot emptier now, what with most of the people now out and about doing their work. True to his word, he sat at a table with a grey wolf, the who looked extremely nervous.

His head snapped towards Cicero as she drew near, but Fafnear calmed him.

"No need for panic. She's with me." He reassured.

"You didn't tell me you had anyone else with you. Who is she? Can she be trusted?" The wolf asked rapidly in a hushed tone.

"Don't worry, I'm an ally of you and your cause."

Fafnear's eyes widened at that for some unknown reason.

"My cause? What are you." The wolf started, but then his eyes widened.

"You. you're with the inquisition."

"No, we're not. We only."

Fafnear stopped talking long enough to grab the wolf's wrist, stopping the journey of a knife clutched in the wolf's hand.

".want to meet with your leader." Fafnear finished.

Cicero's own had has strayed to her waist, forgetting that her sword was still upstairs. A dumb mistake for her.

"I don't know anything about the resistance, and if I did I wouldn't tell you." The wolf said stubbornly, Fafnear still having to keep a solid grip on his wrist.

"I'm an old friend of Mordechai's, though you may know him as Malachi. I'd heard rumor of his endeavors here, and came to offer my assistance any way I can." Fafnear still tried to reason. Of course, he left out that his decision to fight with them rested on Mordechai's explanation as to why the Resistance was fighting. The monarchy claimed that the resistance arose after a trade was proposed to a country that had long warred with Plutaris. Apparently, that hadn't sat well with the more patriotic peoples who wanted to see the said country pay for the blood spilled. Or at least, that's what the Monarchy's forces had said when Fafnear had spoken with them.

The Wolf's tension began to relax a little, but not enough to reassure Fafnear that letting go of his wrist wouldn't result in the knife ending up in him.

"He's telling the truth. He's no friend of the monarchy, and as of yesterday, neither am I." Cicero assured.

That seemed to do it for the wolf, who sheathed his knife and sat back in his chair.

"..alright. You have my attention." He half whispered, his eyes looking around the mostly empty inn.

"If you want to meet Malachi, then I'll take you to him. But, I can't guarantee your safety once we get there. If they decide you can't be trusted and that you need to die, that's what's going to happen."

Fafnear was silent for a moment, his eyes half drifting towards Cicero. She could tell, he was debating leaving her behind so that if things did come to that, she wouldn't die as a result of his actions.

"We accept that risk." Cicero answered before Fafnear could speak for her.

"Good answer." The wolf nodded

"Meet me by the north exit of the village. Whistle three times like a bluejay, and I'll show myself."

He pushed back from his seat, standing up.

"If I see you with more than your friend there." He said to Fafnear, gesturing at Cicero.

"Then I won't show myself. I'll fire a single arrow at your or her, which will be aimed to kill, and you'll never see me again."

And with that final word, the Wolf strode off, his eyes rolling around to survey his surroundings as he departed.

---

Cicero waited impatiently for the time in which she and her mentor would depart. Combat training was out of the question, as they would need to go outside for that, and with the inquisition keeping watchful eyes from the shadows, no doubt they'd see her prepping for battle as reason enough for arrest.

And so.

". which is the proper method to cast a minor pain nullification spell. Of course, as your skill improves, you can learn to cast healing spells as well as. Cicero?"

The Gryphoness's head snapped away from gazing out their room's window back to her mentor.

"Yes, I'm listening." She said.

"Then what spell did I just instruct you in?"

"A healing spell." She said with certainty, having recalled one of the last words spoken by Fafnear.

"No. I've been going on about a pain nullification spell." Fafnear sighed.

"I don't understand why you can't learn at least a few spells. They could very well save your life."

"Fafnear, magic just isn't my style." Cicero said.

"When I'm in the heat of battle, the last thing on my mind would be to shout some incantation. I react more instinctively with my sword."

"Firstly, magic can rely on both verbal and non-verbal spells, as well as hand manipulation. Think of it as quick spell assignment. Secondly, you can train your mind to react instinctively with magic just as I have with both spells and the sword."

"Fafnear, we've been over this. I have no desire to learn magic. I fight the honorable way."

She realized too late what she'd said.

"So, I don't fight honorably?" Fafnear asked, eyebrow raised.

"You know that's not what I meant." Cicero defended.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I mean fighting like those inquisitors we ran into yesterday did." Cicero explained.

"They simply stood back and cast their spells, not putting themselves at risk. That's a cowardly way to fight."

"Yes, I agree with you on that." Fafnear said.

"But you at least admit that magic isn't inherently cowardly. And all I'm asking is that you take the time to learn one spell. And if you find it helpful, I'll teach you more."

".alright, I'll learn. Go ahead. What spell is it?"

"This one is nothing special. It's a simple hand spell that allows you to heal minor flesh wounds."

And so Fafnear did his best to instruct Cicero in at least some magic. Though it was nothing that could be learnt in merely a few hours, and soon, it was time.

---

The clouds of the night covered the stars and moon, offering perfect cover. As his Gryphon form was what the wolf had met him in, and Fafnear was reluctant for now to reveal his shapeshifting abilities to anyone, he would stay in his gryphon form.

The duo had luckily managed to sneak out the service door to the inn, where the innkeeper usually dumped rotten food and other waste. Better to leave from there than the front, where surely at least one inquisitor would have been watching.

"Cicero, bring your shield off your back." Fafnear instructed in a hushed tone.

"It makes too much noise when it's banging against your gear like that. Your sword is no problem though."

Cicero nodded, removing her shield. Her sword was nothing special, a simple short length of sharpened steel. He shield, however, was a different story. The shield of a warrior was their proudest possession, and losing it was considered a great failure. Cicero had gone through five swords in her years of battle, but the same shield had always been relied upon.

Visibility was near zero, what with the complete lack of light. Fafnear must have had a greater sense of direction than Cicero though, as she found herself relying on the vague outline of his lightly armored self for direction. They moved out away from the town before they made it to the edge of the woods, banking towards the intended place of meet off to the left of their original direction.

"This wolf. how did you find him?" Cicero whispered.

"It was quite easy actually. He had a small hunter's camp set up at the lake near here. As most of the inquisitors were birds, he took one look at me and tried to gut me with that little knife of his. But you saw earlier how effective that attack actually is. I explained myself, and he agreed to come to town to meet with me. We actually snuck into the inn the same way we just left."

"So. you trust him."

"No, but I don't distrust him as much as anyone else I've met." Fafnear replied.

"For now, he's our best lead. "

"I know I'm in no position to say this, but this brash behavior isn't like you. I'm the one who makes brash decisions." Cicero said with a smirk.

"Is there any specific reason you wish to find this Malachi, or Mordechai or whatever his name is?"

"To be honest, yes. He saved my life long ago. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't do the same for him." Fafnear explained.

"Perhaps someday I'll elaborate for you, but now is not that time."

If sight had been difficult earlier, it was virtually impossible now.

And yet somehow Fafnear was still able to navigate just fine. Cicero wondered if he had the ability to shapeshift parts of himself, such as his eyes, to better suit situations.

"Stop." Fafnear suddenly said, Cicero nearly colliding with him.

"We're here."

Cicero froze, remembering they likely had a bow or crossbow trained on them right now.

Fafnear lifted his head to the sky, letting loose three melodious whistles.

The two then fell silent, listening for any indication their contact was near. But there was nothing.

"You don't think he weaseled out, do you?" Cicero asked.

"He was a little cowardly. Perhaps my faith in him was ill pla."

There was a loud ~thunk~ as something slammed into. something.

Cicero twitched a little, having felt something slam into her shield. She raised it up to see, laying on the ground in front of it, was a crossbow bolt.

"What in hell's name.?" Cicero muttered, trying to process why their contact had shot at them.

"Cicero!"

Fafnear leapt up, his sword drawn as he lunged at an unseen threat. There was a startled squawk, followed by a gargled cry of pain as Fafnear plunged his sword into an unseen foe.

"Run!" Fafnear shouted as he continued to wrestle with his opponent, sparks of magic from unknown spells illuminating the Gryphon's face, as well as the face of his adversary. The Eagle inquisitor from earlier.

But rather than running, Cicero drew her own sword and plunged it into his head, the Eagle's struggles stopping instantly.

"I told you to run." Fafnear hissed at her in anger.

"I won't leave you. Ever." Cicero said resolutely, withdrawing her sword. She cleaned it on the inquisitor's robe, remembering the importance of proper sword care.

"You don't think the other two are here, do you?"

The last thing Cicero saw before her vision was blinded by a bright flash was Fafnear's open beak as he made to reassure her.

Cicero let out a cry, the flash feeling like it was burning right through her eyes. She dropped her sword, her hand reaching up to shield her eyes.

"Tsk tsk tsk. out after curfew." A familiar voice mocked.

Cicero, her eyes red and watery, knew just who that was speaking.

"I had you figured as a rebel the moment I saw you, but of course, we couldn't very well do anything when a concerned citizen intervened on your behalf. But, Ms. Cicero, out here, there are no concerned citizens to vouch for you."

Cicero, without thinking, grabbed for her sword, leaping up and lunging towards the source of the voice. only to feel what felt like three Warhammers slam into her, sending her tumbling back to the ground.

"Honestly, it's no wonder you rebels lose. You fail to grasp the power behind magic." The Peacock inquisitor chuckled.

And he wasn't alone. Ten other inquisitors, all some kind of avian, stood around the duo, all prepared to cast a spell should the need arise.

"You. cowardly. bastard." Cicero coughed, struggling to rise. Her sword had again flown form her grip, and her vision hadn't recovered enough for her to see where it had gone.

"Such brutish manners." The Peacock mocked.

"Perhaps we should settle our negative feelings in the ways of old?"

"No." Fafnear, who had finally recovered from the spell, said.

"Leave her alone. I'll accept your challenge."

"Hmm. I think not. We have no use for a feeble woman like her, but our armies could use a strong Gryphon such as yourself. A few days with our order's torturer, and you'll be begging to fight for the Plutarian monarchy." The Peacock said.

"No, my quarrel is with her. She did call me cowardly, and such an insult must be retaliated against with swift justice. And when it's all over, we'll hang her body from the village gallows, along with a short presentation of the brutal murder she committed. After we do some editing to the body that is. Two stab wounds isn't much." He continued, pointing to the dead inquisitor.

"Is that what you do? Lie, twist the truth, deceive the masses?" Fafnear accused.

"Of course. I have the power to do so. Why not exercise my right?" The Peacock shrugged.

"Ah, so it would seem you're ready to begin our duel."

Cicero had risen, using her tall shield to push herself from the ground.

"You. want a duel? I'll give you one." She said, spitting some blood out of her beak.

"Very well. But I should tell you, this is a duel of magic. I'm afraid that." He said, pointing to the sword fallen several feet away, which was quickly retrieved by one of the avian inquisitors.

"Is against the rules. But out of fairness, considering your magical prowess may not be as vast as my own, I'll allow you to keep your shield."

The remaining inquisitors began to form a circle, though two of them kept their hands pointed at Fafnear, as they heavily suspected he'd try something.

Another cast his hand skyward, a bright sphere of light appearing in the air, providing illumination for the coming battle.

The Peacock's tail feathers spread into a broad fan, magic sparking off his body.

"Out of chivalry, I'll allow you the first move."

Cicero brought her shield into a defensive position. But no sooner had she done that, she found herself knocked down again by the unstoppable force of that damned concussion spell.

There was laughter all around, Fafnear watching helplessly. He had plenty of transformations at his disposal, but there wasn't one he could use that would allow him to take out all the inquisitors and protect Cicero. He'd acted too brashly. and now he was paying for it, as was Cicero.

"I had expected more fight from you." The Peacock said.

Cicero again rose to meet his challenge though, bringing her shield up again.

The Peacock snapped his hand forward, this time launching enough magical force to forcibly rip the shield from her grip, fracturing her arm in the process.

"Already over, and hardly any entertainment? Perhaps you can entertain my men and I in a different way then, Ms. Cice."

The Peacock was thrown off his feet by the same concussion spell he'd been using, knocking him back into one of his other men. Cicero's undamaged hand was still outstretched, the faint traces of magic already disappearing.

"Cicero?" Fafnear exclaimed. When had he ever taught her that spell?

Cicero seemed equally surprised, looking at her hand. She'd only ever cast spells during her early days of training, and even those hadn't been very strong.

The Peacock rose up, murder in his eyes.

"You'll pay for that you bitch!" He shouted, a spike of solid ice forming in the air. But before he even had the chance to fire it, someone else hit him with a projectile of their own.

The Peacock cried out, again falling back. This time, with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his arm.

The next thing anyone knew, the air was full of the small missiles, their deadly paths illuminated by the ball of light, which vanished soon afterward as the caster was vanquished by the hail of iron and wood.

Cicero managed to grab her shield in time, directing it against the bolts. She felt about five of them hit, all of them most likely having hit her if she hadn't acted.

"Fafnear!" She called out, fearing for her mentor's life.

There was shouts as the inquisitors made their retreat, and more shouts as another party advanced on their position.

"How many'd we he it?"

"Not sure. I know I got one."

"Shut it. Grab those two and let's go."

Cicero, fearing she was dealing with bandits, held onto her shield and tried bashing the advancers away, but they quickly overpowered her, wresting her shield away before she was whisked off into the night.

---

Unfortunately, the Peacock had survived. He'd only taken the one hit from the initial shot before he'd turned tail and fled. He'd lost three more to the surprise attack, and one of them was wounded. But the Peacock, inquisitor Kortakoss, didn't care. He was seething with rage. He'd been humiliated in front of several other inquisitors. Then again. if he was the sole survivor of a vicious rebel attack, he'd suddenly become very important. After all, he had the identity of a valuable resistance soldier. He'd just need to silence any witnesses that might attest to his story. He turned towards his former allies, none of them prepared for the massacre that followed.

---

Cicero didn't have the strength anymore to fight back. At the very least, her kidnappers had set her down, allowing her to walk, but they key kept a close perimeter around her, and unarmed as she was, she wasn't going to be making any daring escapes. And even if she could, she wasn't leaving Fafnear.

The journey lasted what felt like an entire hour before the groups pace began to slow. Only a few carried any light source, allowing her to make out some faces. They definitely had the raggedness associated with bandits in their clothes, armor and weapons.

"Cicero."

Cicero turned to see that Fafnear was now near her. She smiled, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Fafnear. I thought you might have been hit."

"Oh, I was. But a simple form shift amid the chaos solved that. The wound healed itself. for the most part. There's still some internal damage, but nothing too severe."

"So, how are we going to get out of this?" She asked.

"Oh, Cicero. We aren't. You see, they are the resistance. It would seem that now I owe Mordechai my life twice over, and now you once."