Caleb accepts the return of his scarf and winds it back around his neck. He can't help noticing the sweet scent of hay on it now. He holds a hand out for Frumpkin, who leaps up onto his shoulders before he gets his legs under him and pushes up to his feet with a wince. Hours sitting on cold stone in more or less the same position have left his body stiff and achey, but he pushes through it as he goes to meet Nott by the door of the cell.
As soon as it's open, they'll collect what they need from within the jail and go. He gives Ro a nod when he says he's planning to do just that. With any luck, no one will even know they're gone until morning.
"I got all the luck I need right here," Nott declares with confidence, shaking her flask. It sounds nearly empty. She frowns. "Shit, maybe not. Lay it on me." Her arm fits easily through the bars, hand outstretched. After a tap from Ro, she gets out her lock picks and sets to work.
For all the shady training he'd had in his youth, Caleb has never met anyone as sneaky as Nott. For all that she can be a loud, opinionated person, she has a gift for stealth--and for picking locks. It's mere seconds before the mechanism releases with a soft grind of metal and Nott gives a shark-toothed grin. "Easy. Now let's fucking go."
Caleb couldn't agree more. He pushes the door open slowly, in case it is loud, but his care pays off, and it makes little noise. He goes to the table to look for the small pouch containing a few coins they'd taken off him, and anything else he might consider useful. It's a pretty bare bones operation in here, and he finds little of interest, except for the book logging the names and physical descriptions of prisoners, and the reason for their arrest. The last two are Bernard Schreiber (a false name to protect another false name) and Alaric Sandheaver, a halfling. Interesting.
Quickly and neatly, he tears that last page from the book. With a whisper that calls forth a small burst of flame, it ignites in his hand, burning away to ash in seconds. He doesn't need his physical description appearing in any Crownsguard records, even under a pseudonym.
"Is it all there?" he asks Ro, turning to face him as the other man checks his pack.
With a few soft words and a quick gesture, Ro offers Nott a bit of guidance before he steps back to give her room. He lets Caleb pass him, then slips out after. He goes straight to the pack left against a wall and takes out an appropriate-looking coat. He slips that on first, then a pair of fingerless gloves, and finally a pendant that he promptly slips under his shirt.
"It's all still here," he answers when Caleb asks. He slips his pack on and gets a hand on his staff. Feathers and a few beads or stones are tied near the end of it. He looks at the other two people he's with, trying to think fast.
"I can make one of you invisible," he says softly. "I think perhaps it should be Caleb."
He's taller than Nott and Ro, after all, and it makes the most sense.
"I can disguise myself." He looks at Nott, brow knit. There's less he can offer her, other than the guidance she already has. "Can we go out the same way you came in?"
"It should definitely be Caleb," Nott agrees, tucking her thieves' tools away. Caleb isn't offended. It should be him.
"I will take that invisibility," he tells Ro. "But save your other spell. I can disguise you. I do not think Nott will need it."
"Nope," Nott says, as he thought, before she looks to Ro, clearly taking his measure even as she says, "There's nobody out there."
"But that will not be the case for long," Caleb adds, familiar with the sort of early-rising tradition of these small villages. His was the same. "We can make a break for the barley fields and stay off the road today. Our crimes were petty, so I doubt they will waste time and resources chasing us, but it is better to be safe."
"Good thinking, Caleb!" Nott praises, as if he hasn't said the most obvious thing imaginable. "He's very smart," she tells Ro earnestly.
"Let's go," Caleb insists, ending that line of conversation. His lips quirk as he meets Ro's eyes, looking down at him. "You may cast on me, this time, if I can do the same."
That Nott is quick to offer praise does not go unnoticed. A faint smile quirks Ro's mouth as he looks up at the other man.
"All right," he agrees. He steps closer to Caleb and reaches into one of his coat pockets. He produces something tiny and quickly casts the verbal and somatic elements before he gently touches Caleb's hand. When he steps back, the man vanishes.
"Okay," he murmurs. "That'll last for an hour, or until I break it. I'm ready whenever you are."
He trusts Caleb to disguise him as something reasonable, and he tries to stay still as the antsy anticipation starts creeping up his nerves. They need to go. It's very early yet, but people will stir sooner than later, of that he's certain.
Caleb holds his breath as Ro casts, tension spiking, until he watches his own hands disappear as invisibility settles over him. Frumpkin leaps down from his shoulders and twines through his invisible legs, rubbing at his ankles. He breathes out. Nothing unexpected. This is good.
When he casts, Ro remains a halfling, but his appearance changes completely. He is another man entirely, older, his skin weathered and his hair greying, wearing plain, nondescript clothes and a dark cloak like Nott's. "One hour for this one, too," Caleb says, invisibly. "If we should encounter anyone in that time, Nott is your daughter, and you are from Felderwin." It's the largest halfling community in the Empire, and not so far from here. He sees Nott duck her head down, but she says nothing. Just pulls up her little porcelain mask to cover the bottom half of her face.
"I will follow you," Caleb says, and Nott leads the way, Frumpkin padding along just behind her on silent cat's paws. At the jail's door, Nott darts out and back again, informing them that the coast is still clear. They can't exactly run, but they move swiftly through the quiet little town, ducking behind buildings as much as possible. Thankfully it is still dark, and will be for the next few hours. Caleb loses sight of Nott completely more than once, but she always reappears and beckons them forward.
Getting out of the main village without incident doesn't mean that they're home free, but it is still a relief to get beyond the clustered buildings and step into the barley fields, knowing that the stalks are tall enough to conceal both of his companions from view.
Ro stays quiet after that, hurrying along with Nott and, he assumes, Caleb. Now and then he's reassured of the other man's presence by either a sign from Frumpkin or simply hearing his footsteps nearby. Ro bumps against him at least once and startles himself, even if he knows Caleb is invisible.
He breathes a soft sigh of relief as they slip into the barley field. He remains quiet other than that, though he allows his pace to slow just a bit as he follows the sounds of rustling and the movement of the stalks to keep track of Nott and Caleb. It's only after the hour passes and Caleb slowly reappears that he says anything.
Likewise, when they encounter no trouble after an hour, Caleb finally lets himself breathe a little easier. They're well into the rolling fields of the Merrow Valley by now, and have not seen another soul. Now that he is visible and Ro looks like himself again, it finally feels safe to talk.
Now it is after. They should really split up from here. Nott is looking at him expectantly. He avoids her eyes and Ro's, and instead bends down to pick up Frumpkin.
"We do not have a particular destination. But I suppose we are making our way south." In a meandering, aimless way. "Anywhere that we can be safe for a few days and make a little money is good." He touches his nose to Frumpkin's, then boosts him up onto his shoulders, where he curls around them like a scarf, the swaying tip of his tail just tickling his chin. "And you?"
"I was heading in the general direction of Deastok," he says with a small shrug. "I was given a few names there should I need or want work. But I don't have much of a travel agenda."
Not for some time, anyway. Whenever he gets back to the coast, he'll find a ship going wherever it is he wants to go next. Ro can't help but notice the way the human man avoids meeting his gaze or Nott's as he speaks. The cat seems to provide a great deal of comfort, and it occurs to Ro that his tall companion might have anxiety over more than the arrest.
He finds he doesn't really want to part ways. Maybe it's a lingering sense of responsibility, even if he had nothing to do with the reason Caleb was jailed.
Deastok. They haven't been there yet, which means there is less chance of encountering anyone who might be looking for him. And it is large enough for he and Nott to blend in, which is probably safest right now. If they were to tag along...
But he can't ask that. He has nothing to offer, and his presence brings trouble. He is putting Nott in danger already. Ro seems like a good man, which means he should stay far away from him.
That is when Nott pipes up.
"Deastock? That place is all old money. Everybody who lives there is fucking loaded." Her eyes gleam, and Caleb sees a corner of her grin over the edge of her mask as she reaches up to take one of his hands with both of hers, shaking it excitedly. "Caleb, think of how much we could score if we get in there!" Having apparently been blinded by the prospect of shiny things already, Nott turns a sharper gaze on Ro. "You owe us! We're coming with you."
Well, if Nott is the one deciding, he can't argue.
"Is that okay with you?" he asks instead, lifting his eyes to Ro's face again with a crooked little smile.
"Old money and, I hear, tourists," he says mildly, trying to hide a smile as Nott lights up at the prospect. He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows when the goblin cuts a look his way. It's a poor attempt to hide the prior smile.
"Well, I can't say I mind the company." Though his tone is demure, Ro's eyes are bright. "Especially since, if left on my own, I will surely be arrested for heresy or idol worship again in no time. Best to have some people familiar with the region to keep me from making mistakes."
He meets Caleb's gaze and winks at him.
"Besides, this will save on sending postcards." He considers a moment, then adds, "Next inn is on me."
"Damn right it is!" Nott declares at the same time that Caleb mumbles, "That is kind of you."
He is a little bit flushed. No one winks at him. Certainly not handsome fellows who recently spent several hours sitting in his lap. He doesn't quite know what to make of it, and his brain whirs at top speed along a single track for an embarrassing few moments.
"I cannot guarantee that this will be your last brush with the law," Caleb says with gentle humor. "But at least you are with people who you know can spring you from a cell."
"Twice!" adds Nott gleefully. "Caleb and I met in jail, too."
Caleb gives a bashful half shrug, daring to meet Ro's eyes again and find the subdued mischief there. Holding one of Nott's hands, he he tugs her along to walk beside him. "As I said earlier, I am not intending to make it a habit. But it has worked out well so far."
"Jail seems like the place to meet all the best people in the Empire," Ro quips. "And I, for one, am grateful that you did it at least once more for my sake."
As the sun comes up, it chases away the sharper chill of night. Ro is happy to have his coat again all the same. He's also rather glad that Caleb seems well-practiced at traveling with people with a shorter gait than his own - he doesn't feel like he's constantly hurrying to catch up while walking at a relaxed pace.
The sunlight reveals the feathers hanging from Ro's staff are assorted. There are three black feathers, a couple that are downy gray with sharp black tips, and one black feather with two white dots near the end. The beads are actually black pearls and a small abalone shell.
Ro can't help but notice the lovely, fiery color of Caleb's hair.
It's a fire intentionally dulled to a less memorable shade by a not insignificant amount of dirt. As they walk, it occurs to Caleb that he'll have to appear somewhat more put together if they're headed to a wealthy city like Deastok. There, the filthy vagrant most people's eyes simply gloss over would stand out. A bath will go a long way, though he might also need to Disguise Self strategically to conceal his shabby clothes.
If it was cold inside, it is freezing outside, but that will let up significantly when the sun rises fully. For now, Caleb draws his coat closer around him and squeezes Nott's hand. At least Ro has his layers back now.
"If our destination is Deastok, we will need to adjust our course to the west." He nods in that direction, made obvious by the sun breaking over the horizon on the opposite side. But his internal sense of direction tells him that is the right way, too.
He looks more at Ro now, too, taking him in with the first rays of morning light now on him. His features are sharper than they were in the fuzzy half-dark of the cell, and the kind of relaxed confidence he holds himself with is more obvious when he isn't curled up and shivering. "You must have made your staff yourself," he says, a plausible excuse for his intermittent glances. "It is very pretty, but keep an eye on those pearls. Nott has sticky fingers when it comes to shiny baubles."
"Hey!" Nott protests, though she deflates almost immediately. "I wouldn't steal from your new friend, Caleb. Not until after he pays for a room, at least." The goblin leans forward to peer around Caleb at their new halfling companion, still clearly taking his measure.
"I don't hate the idea of the sun at our backs for a while," he admits. Then he offers Caleb a wry smile. "I'm used to navigating on the sea. And on the other side of the world, most of the time."
He knows the stars well, and with the sun out the cardinal directions are easy. But Caleb clearly knows the Empire, and that is helpful. He's grateful for the guidance, and for the companionship. He's been traveling on his own for a while.
Ro's hair is a deep black in the growing daylight; the dull sheen to it suggests it could use a wash. He certainly didn't have the chance for a bath before he got thrown into jail, never mind after. The light also reveals freckles across his cheeks the bridge of his nose. Ro lifts a brow when Caleb draws attention to his staff... and apparently Nott's propensity for theft.
"Oh, I wouldn't recommend stealing these," he says with solemn warning. "One of my patrons is the Matron, and I'd hate to imagine what sort of curse she might bestow on someone stealing from such a devoted cleric."
Despite addressing the warning to Nott, he glances at Caleb with a flash of amusement in his brown eyes.
"Bullshit," Nott declares, but it's easy to see that she feels less confident about that than she wants to be. Her voice wavers a little, and the way her yellow eyes narrow is more wary than suspicious.
Caleb tries not to smile, though the amusement he's hiding is there in his eyes, too, when Ro looks up to meet them. "Best to be safe, though," he says aloud, addressing Nott. He squeezes her hand. "The last thing we need is a god's curse. Ro here was a very agreeable cellmate, but he does have the matron's ear. Who knows what he is capable of?"
"Well," says Nott delicately, "we sprung him out of jail. That's got to earn us some god points, right?"
The corner of Caleb's mouth does curl up now. "Is that how it works, Ro? A cosmic point system tallied up by wandering clerics?" He is joking, but maybe Nott isn't actually so far off. He wouldn't presume to know.
"Raven shit," he corrects. He tries not to smile at the question Caleb poses.
"That's exactly how it works. And I have two patrons, so... double the points?"
Right? Sure. That's definitely how that works. He winks at Caleb, though, because surely people don't really--Then again, maybe they do think that. He finally breaks into a soft, bright smile as he looks down.
"I can't say we actually keep tallies, but... I don't recommend fucking with particularly devoted clerics, either. You never know how close to their god they are."
"See? It is a good thing we got locked up together. Now we know," Caleb tells Nott, who tugs his arm sharply.
"But you met me in jail first. You're not replacing me, are you, Caleb? I mean, sure, he's cute and cuddly--" She looks around him at Ro in a way Caleb could only call discerning, then earnestly back up. "--but I'm your best friend, right?"
"You are my best friend, Nott the Brave. I could never replace you," he assures before she can get any ideas otherwise. He does feel his face reflexively heat a little at the mention of cuddling, but he's honestly surprised she didn't bring it up sooner. Or immediately. "But our new friend has been generous and understanding, ja? Which is something we do not find everywhere we go."
"Sure," Nott agrees, and there is an endearing sternness about her when she tells Ro directly, "Caleb is extremely clever and thoughtful and obviously very handsome. So if you're getting cozy, you're the lucky one, and you should be putting in a good word for him with at least two gods."
Endearing and embarrassing. "Ah, Nott, that isn't--"
"What? You're a catch!" She blusters. In a stage whisper she might honestly think only he can hear, she adds, "Not that I don't support you getting laid. Actually, I encourage it."
It's all Caleb can manage to turn his now blazing face back to Ro and mouth I am so sorry.
Ro really does try to keep from smiling too much as Nott bounces between scrutinizing him and talking up Caleb.
"I am incredibly lucky to have found you both," he says, wanting to be clear that he knows the value of his companions.
He presses his lips together as Caleb mouths those words to him and tries to pretend he didn't hear Nott's aside to the human man.
"You are right, of course," he says to her while casting a look at Caleb. "He is very kind. And handsome."
Maybe he shouldn't, but Caleb's blush is too much to resist: Ro winks at him before facing the road ahead of them again. It's his attempt to give Caleb a moment to recover.
Not expecting the compliements and certainly not expecting to be winked at, Caleb's eloquent response is a sudden coughing fit, which he muffles in the sleeve of his coat as he looks away. At least all the blood rushing to his face is keeping it warm.
"See? He agrees!" Nott crows, as if that proves something. Somehow she's gone from scolding Ro to scolding him, but he'll take it. He'll take anything that isn't her going on like she had been.
The flirting--Caleb had identified it before, and now he's sure. It must be just part of Ro's personality; he's a charming man. It must be that, because the alternative is that he means it, and Caleb can't bring himself to believe that right now. It's been too long since someone looked at him and thought that he was seriously worth flirting with. This is by design.
Apparently his response has endeared Ro to Nott quite a bit, because she starts chatting with him eagerly after, which is good when Caleb cannot contribute. He sinks deeper into his scarf and looks ahead. It is cold. He can use that as an excuse, even if it is a flimsy one.
Ro can't stop his smile as they walk, and the day feels a bit brighter and easier from there.
They spend most of the day away from the road - it isn't difficult to cut across country between Ro's sense of direction and Caleb's knowledge of the land. It isn't difficult walking, and comfortable silences are broken up by conversation whenever Nott thinks of something to ask or whenever either Ro or Caleb are struck by a topic to bring up.
As the sun starts to sink toward the horizon, their attention turns toward finding a safe place to camp for the night. Between them, that isn't very difficult either, though they still take care to remain away from the road. By Caleb's thinking, they should be relatively safe to return to it tomorrow, given the distance they've put between themselves and the village they escaped.
Ro leaves Caleb and Nott to make a fire pit while he disappears to the nearby stream. Before too long, he comes back with some fish to cook.
While they wait for their dinner, or perhaps after, Ro unwraps the lute tied to his pack and tunes it before he plays one of the quieter tunes he knows.
Caleb has settled with his back to an exposed tree root and his legs stretched toward their modest campfire, warming his toes. Nott crouches nearby, still nibbling at her dinner, though the fish bones are nearly picked clean already. Caleb can relate; he'd used fingers and teeth to pry loose every bit of flesh he could, though he'd offered the eyes to Nott. Along with fresh water from the stream, some stolen bread, and an apple each, this is easily the best meal they've had in some time.
As if that weren't enough to be able to call this a good night, now there is music, too. Caleb doesn't know the song Ro is playing, but it is nice all the same. His eyes are closed, and his feet tap lightly against the ground as he picks up the slow rhythm. With the other hand he pets Frumpkin, curled up and purring in his lap. Feeling safe anywhere is foolish and dangerous, but at the very least he feels relaxed, which is rare enough. The trees are thick enough around them to hide the smoke from their fire, having three people for watch is much better than two, and it is encouraging to think that if something should happen, there is a healer on hand.
"This is a real treat for us," he says, eyes sliding open and head turning toward their new halfling companion. "Dinner and music. Isn't it, Nott?"
Nott perks up, long goblinoid ears lifting. "Oh, yes. Very nice!" She chirps, flashing crooked fangs around a mouthful of fish bones.
"What is the song you are playing?" Caleb wonders. "Something from Tal'Dorei?"
Ro smiles warmly as Nott pipes up with a sharp grin. He looks back down at his lute, though he doesn't really need to pay attention anymore to what he's playing - he knows it well.
"Happy to provide," he says, sincere in the sentiment. He looks over at Caleb when he asks about the song. "It's one I picked up on the Ozmit Sea," he answers, rather than saying it belongs to any one continent. "It's the first ocean I ever sailed on, and the one I grew up staring at."
He plays with more intention and, after a moment, begins to sing with quiet confidence:
"When the night is long and we're all full of dread, oh where am I to go? For we're all good n' lost and we're missing our beds, o Lady take us home. When we've run through our stores and our taking is high and we've nowhere left to roam, oh we'll keep our chins up and we'll look to the sky. O Lady take us home."
For the sake of his audience, Ro circles back to sing the entire song. At some point in his playing, his own foot starts tapping, keeping beat for himself and in time with Caleb's. In the song there's the mention of a copper-haired landlady, and Ro makes it a point to make eye contact with the copper-haired wizard sitting near him as he sings that part.
As a man who has never seen the ocean before--any ocean--Caleb is more than a little charmed by that explanation. He nods, and falls quiet again, curious and listening intently, as Ro begins to sing. His voice is smooth and clear, very pleasant to listen to, and carries the song well. Caleb finds his foot tapping with more confidence as it goes along, and out of the corner of his eye sees Nott sitting cross-legged beside the fire and swaying more or less in time as well, which makes him smile.
There is a moment as he goes into the second verse where Ro's eyes lift and meet his. I was struck by the sheen of her copper red hair, he sings, and Caleb feels his face heat and his heart skip anxiously. He's too much of a coward to maintain eye contact for long, so he ducks his chin down into his scarf and scritches Frumpkin's head nervously in a way he knows is awkward, maybe even rude. But he can't--he doesn't know what to do with that. Caleb is aware Ro is just being friendly and having fun. But he's gone so long trying not to be noticed that any positive attention at all flusters him, especially from a man so kind, clever, and handsome.
Nonetheless, his foot continues to keep the beat, and when Frumpkin stretches and gets up from his lap, his fingers tap along against his knee, too. He manages to look at the halfling again before the song finishes, easier without the direct connection that had startled him so, and still has his stomach in a gentle knot.
It's been years--years and years--since he spent so much time around anyone other than Nott. Clearly he needs practice.
He joins Nott's clapping when the song comes to an end, desperately hoping he can manage to be slightly more normal for the remainder of the evening. "Another, another!" Nott cheers, saving him from having to say anything himself. He merely nods in agreement, and hopes his smile looks more natural than it feels.
Ro smiles bashfully when Nott and Caleb both applaud for him. He sweeps his arm out and bows over his lute with a flourish.
"You are the most gracious audience I've had in a while," he quips. His smile brightens when Nott insists on another. Ro peers over at Caleb, who looks--shy? Awkward? He's not entirely sure, but it's kind of cute.
Unable to resist the chance to maybe get a bit further into Nott's good graces, Ro picks up another song, one that's newer to him. At first he just plays a bit of it, then he peers over at Caleb again, his dark eyes warm and bright in the firelight.
"You'll have to tell me if this is something terrible," he says with a wry smile. "It's in Zemnian, I learned it from a bard a few towns over."
Ro feels a bit self-conscious choosing this song, of all things, when there is a man sitting here who speaks the language that he's about to sing in. A language that he barely knows at all. But he wants to try. And he's learned, through singing the song, that... there are things about Zemnian and Common that aren't that different. He thinks he understands some parts of it now, but not enough to say for sure he knows what it's about.
"Ich ging durch's Heidemoor allein, da hörte ich drei Vögel schreien. Auf einem Baum drei Raben stolz waren so schwarz wie Ebenholz."
Even if he doesn't speak Zemnian, Ro's pronunciation is smooth - almost flawless in terms of its mimicry. He's been practicing.
Caleb can't help the way he perks up when Ro announces the next song will be in Zemnian. He feels Nott pat his arm excitedly, and he sits up, curious, as Ro begins to strum.
He can't know what the words mean, but as he begins to sing, Caleb notes right away that his pronunciation is quite good; a useful skill, and probably a fair bit of practice. It's only a few lines before Caleb recognizes the song. Oh, he happens to know this one quite well.
The first time he heard it was in Blumenthal, when he was young, but it wasn't uncommon in the taverns and beer halls of Rexxentrum, either. It's been years, but he still finds himself humming along before he can think better of it, quiet but resonating. It's a bit melancholy in the way that many Zemnian songs and stories tend to be, but with an underlying sweetness. He remembers it in Wulf's low voice, the vibration through his wide chest as Bren pressed his ear against it, pleasantly beer-drowsy, the three of them tucked into a corner table as the bard sang.
Ro's voice couldn't be more different, but the feeling it conjures is also both melancholy and sweet. Caleb's expression is soft, though his eyes are a little distant, as he sings along in his head. For most of the song, at least. Toward the end, the words change to ones he hasn't heard before.
That stirs him from his half-reverie. This new ending outlines the futility of the hero's death, killed fighting for the sake of a more powerful man who will never acknowledge his sacrifice. It makes the grief of those who loved him loyally stand out starkly. The criticism of the Empire itself in the change is not veiled. This is the sort of thing his training taught him was worth keeping an ear out for, perhaps even a little digging, just to see if the bard might share more than sympathies with one of the underground resistance groups.
In many ways, it hits a little too close to home now.
Caleb claps again when Ro reaches the end, and offers, "Gut gemacht. That was very good. Your Zemnian, also. That song is fairly well known in the part of the Empire I am from. Though someone has altered the ending since the last time I heard it." Which, admittedly, was a long time ago.
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As soon as it's open, they'll collect what they need from within the jail and go. He gives Ro a nod when he says he's planning to do just that. With any luck, no one will even know they're gone until morning.
"I got all the luck I need right here," Nott declares with confidence, shaking her flask. It sounds nearly empty. She frowns. "Shit, maybe not. Lay it on me." Her arm fits easily through the bars, hand outstretched. After a tap from Ro, she gets out her lock picks and sets to work.
For all the shady training he'd had in his youth, Caleb has never met anyone as sneaky as Nott. For all that she can be a loud, opinionated person, she has a gift for stealth--and for picking locks. It's mere seconds before the mechanism releases with a soft grind of metal and Nott gives a shark-toothed grin. "Easy. Now let's fucking go."
Caleb couldn't agree more. He pushes the door open slowly, in case it is loud, but his care pays off, and it makes little noise. He goes to the table to look for the small pouch containing a few coins they'd taken off him, and anything else he might consider useful. It's a pretty bare bones operation in here, and he finds little of interest, except for the book logging the names and physical descriptions of prisoners, and the reason for their arrest. The last two are Bernard Schreiber (a false name to protect another false name) and Alaric Sandheaver, a halfling. Interesting.
Quickly and neatly, he tears that last page from the book. With a whisper that calls forth a small burst of flame, it ignites in his hand, burning away to ash in seconds. He doesn't need his physical description appearing in any Crownsguard records, even under a pseudonym.
"Is it all there?" he asks Ro, turning to face him as the other man checks his pack.
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"It's all still here," he answers when Caleb asks. He slips his pack on and gets a hand on his staff. Feathers and a few beads or stones are tied near the end of it. He looks at the other two people he's with, trying to think fast.
"I can make one of you invisible," he says softly. "I think perhaps it should be Caleb."
He's taller than Nott and Ro, after all, and it makes the most sense.
"I can disguise myself." He looks at Nott, brow knit. There's less he can offer her, other than the guidance she already has. "Can we go out the same way you came in?"
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"I will take that invisibility," he tells Ro. "But save your other spell. I can disguise you. I do not think Nott will need it."
"Nope," Nott says, as he thought, before she looks to Ro, clearly taking his measure even as she says, "There's nobody out there."
"But that will not be the case for long," Caleb adds, familiar with the sort of early-rising tradition of these small villages. His was the same. "We can make a break for the barley fields and stay off the road today. Our crimes were petty, so I doubt they will waste time and resources chasing us, but it is better to be safe."
"Good thinking, Caleb!" Nott praises, as if he hasn't said the most obvious thing imaginable. "He's very smart," she tells Ro earnestly.
"Let's go," Caleb insists, ending that line of conversation. His lips quirk as he meets Ro's eyes, looking down at him. "You may cast on me, this time, if I can do the same."
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"All right," he agrees. He steps closer to Caleb and reaches into one of his coat pockets. He produces something tiny and quickly casts the verbal and somatic elements before he gently touches Caleb's hand. When he steps back, the man vanishes.
"Okay," he murmurs. "That'll last for an hour, or until I break it. I'm ready whenever you are."
He trusts Caleb to disguise him as something reasonable, and he tries to stay still as the antsy anticipation starts creeping up his nerves. They need to go. It's very early yet, but people will stir sooner than later, of that he's certain.
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When he casts, Ro remains a halfling, but his appearance changes completely. He is another man entirely, older, his skin weathered and his hair greying, wearing plain, nondescript clothes and a dark cloak like Nott's. "One hour for this one, too," Caleb says, invisibly. "If we should encounter anyone in that time, Nott is your daughter, and you are from Felderwin." It's the largest halfling community in the Empire, and not so far from here. He sees Nott duck her head down, but she says nothing. Just pulls up her little porcelain mask to cover the bottom half of her face.
"I will follow you," Caleb says, and Nott leads the way, Frumpkin padding along just behind her on silent cat's paws. At the jail's door, Nott darts out and back again, informing them that the coast is still clear. They can't exactly run, but they move swiftly through the quiet little town, ducking behind buildings as much as possible. Thankfully it is still dark, and will be for the next few hours. Caleb loses sight of Nott completely more than once, but she always reappears and beckons them forward.
Getting out of the main village without incident doesn't mean that they're home free, but it is still a relief to get beyond the clustered buildings and step into the barley fields, knowing that the stalks are tall enough to conceal both of his companions from view.
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He breathes a soft sigh of relief as they slip into the barley field. He remains quiet other than that, though he allows his pace to slow just a bit as he follows the sounds of rustling and the movement of the stalks to keep track of Nott and Caleb. It's only after the hour passes and Caleb slowly reappears that he says anything.
"Where are you headed?"
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Now it is after. They should really split up from here. Nott is looking at him expectantly. He avoids her eyes and Ro's, and instead bends down to pick up Frumpkin.
"We do not have a particular destination. But I suppose we are making our way south." In a meandering, aimless way. "Anywhere that we can be safe for a few days and make a little money is good." He touches his nose to Frumpkin's, then boosts him up onto his shoulders, where he curls around them like a scarf, the swaying tip of his tail just tickling his chin. "And you?"
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Not for some time, anyway. Whenever he gets back to the coast, he'll find a ship going wherever it is he wants to go next. Ro can't help but notice the way the human man avoids meeting his gaze or Nott's as he speaks. The cat seems to provide a great deal of comfort, and it occurs to Ro that his tall companion might have anxiety over more than the arrest.
He finds he doesn't really want to part ways. Maybe it's a lingering sense of responsibility, even if he had nothing to do with the reason Caleb was jailed.
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But he can't ask that. He has nothing to offer, and his presence brings trouble. He is putting Nott in danger already. Ro seems like a good man, which means he should stay far away from him.
That is when Nott pipes up.
"Deastock? That place is all old money. Everybody who lives there is fucking loaded." Her eyes gleam, and Caleb sees a corner of her grin over the edge of her mask as she reaches up to take one of his hands with both of hers, shaking it excitedly. "Caleb, think of how much we could score if we get in there!" Having apparently been blinded by the prospect of shiny things already, Nott turns a sharper gaze on Ro. "You owe us! We're coming with you."
Well, if Nott is the one deciding, he can't argue.
"Is that okay with you?" he asks instead, lifting his eyes to Ro's face again with a crooked little smile.
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"Well, I can't say I mind the company." Though his tone is demure, Ro's eyes are bright. "Especially since, if left on my own, I will surely be arrested for heresy or idol worship again in no time. Best to have some people familiar with the region to keep me from making mistakes."
He meets Caleb's gaze and winks at him.
"Besides, this will save on sending postcards." He considers a moment, then adds, "Next inn is on me."
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He is a little bit flushed. No one winks at him. Certainly not handsome fellows who recently spent several hours sitting in his lap. He doesn't quite know what to make of it, and his brain whirs at top speed along a single track for an embarrassing few moments.
"I cannot guarantee that this will be your last brush with the law," Caleb says with gentle humor. "But at least you are with people who you know can spring you from a cell."
"Twice!" adds Nott gleefully. "Caleb and I met in jail, too."
Caleb gives a bashful half shrug, daring to meet Ro's eyes again and find the subdued mischief there. Holding one of Nott's hands, he he tugs her along to walk beside him. "As I said earlier, I am not intending to make it a habit. But it has worked out well so far."
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As the sun comes up, it chases away the sharper chill of night. Ro is happy to have his coat again all the same. He's also rather glad that Caleb seems well-practiced at traveling with people with a shorter gait than his own - he doesn't feel like he's constantly hurrying to catch up while walking at a relaxed pace.
The sunlight reveals the feathers hanging from Ro's staff are assorted. There are three black feathers, a couple that are downy gray with sharp black tips, and one black feather with two white dots near the end. The beads are actually black pearls and a small abalone shell.
Ro can't help but notice the lovely, fiery color of Caleb's hair.
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If it was cold inside, it is freezing outside, but that will let up significantly when the sun rises fully. For now, Caleb draws his coat closer around him and squeezes Nott's hand. At least Ro has his layers back now.
"If our destination is Deastok, we will need to adjust our course to the west." He nods in that direction, made obvious by the sun breaking over the horizon on the opposite side. But his internal sense of direction tells him that is the right way, too.
He looks more at Ro now, too, taking him in with the first rays of morning light now on him. His features are sharper than they were in the fuzzy half-dark of the cell, and the kind of relaxed confidence he holds himself with is more obvious when he isn't curled up and shivering. "You must have made your staff yourself," he says, a plausible excuse for his intermittent glances. "It is very pretty, but keep an eye on those pearls. Nott has sticky fingers when it comes to shiny baubles."
"Hey!" Nott protests, though she deflates almost immediately. "I wouldn't steal from your new friend, Caleb. Not until after he pays for a room, at least." The goblin leans forward to peer around Caleb at their new halfling companion, still clearly taking his measure.
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He knows the stars well, and with the sun out the cardinal directions are easy. But Caleb clearly knows the Empire, and that is helpful. He's grateful for the guidance, and for the companionship. He's been traveling on his own for a while.
Ro's hair is a deep black in the growing daylight; the dull sheen to it suggests it could use a wash. He certainly didn't have the chance for a bath before he got thrown into jail, never mind after. The light also reveals freckles across his cheeks the bridge of his nose. Ro lifts a brow when Caleb draws attention to his staff... and apparently Nott's propensity for theft.
"Oh, I wouldn't recommend stealing these," he says with solemn warning. "One of my patrons is the Matron, and I'd hate to imagine what sort of curse she might bestow on someone stealing from such a devoted cleric."
Despite addressing the warning to Nott, he glances at Caleb with a flash of amusement in his brown eyes.
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Caleb tries not to smile, though the amusement he's hiding is there in his eyes, too, when Ro looks up to meet them. "Best to be safe, though," he says aloud, addressing Nott. He squeezes her hand. "The last thing we need is a god's curse. Ro here was a very agreeable cellmate, but he does have the matron's ear. Who knows what he is capable of?"
"Well," says Nott delicately, "we sprung him out of jail. That's got to earn us some god points, right?"
The corner of Caleb's mouth does curl up now. "Is that how it works, Ro? A cosmic point system tallied up by wandering clerics?" He is joking, but maybe Nott isn't actually so far off. He wouldn't presume to know.
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"That's exactly how it works. And I have two patrons, so... double the points?"
Right? Sure. That's definitely how that works. He winks at Caleb, though, because surely people don't really--Then again, maybe they do think that. He finally breaks into a soft, bright smile as he looks down.
"I can't say we actually keep tallies, but... I don't recommend fucking with particularly devoted clerics, either. You never know how close to their god they are."
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"But you met me in jail first. You're not replacing me, are you, Caleb? I mean, sure, he's cute and cuddly--" She looks around him at Ro in a way Caleb could only call discerning, then earnestly back up. "--but I'm your best friend, right?"
"You are my best friend, Nott the Brave. I could never replace you," he assures before she can get any ideas otherwise. He does feel his face reflexively heat a little at the mention of cuddling, but he's honestly surprised she didn't bring it up sooner. Or immediately. "But our new friend has been generous and understanding, ja? Which is something we do not find everywhere we go."
"Sure," Nott agrees, and there is an endearing sternness about her when she tells Ro directly, "Caleb is extremely clever and thoughtful and obviously very handsome. So if you're getting cozy, you're the lucky one, and you should be putting in a good word for him with at least two gods."
Endearing and embarrassing. "Ah, Nott, that isn't--"
"What? You're a catch!" She blusters. In a stage whisper she might honestly think only he can hear, she adds, "Not that I don't support you getting laid. Actually, I encourage it."
It's all Caleb can manage to turn his now blazing face back to Ro and mouth I am so sorry.
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"I am incredibly lucky to have found you both," he says, wanting to be clear that he knows the value of his companions.
He presses his lips together as Caleb mouths those words to him and tries to pretend he didn't hear Nott's aside to the human man.
"You are right, of course," he says to her while casting a look at Caleb. "He is very kind. And handsome."
Maybe he shouldn't, but Caleb's blush is too much to resist: Ro winks at him before facing the road ahead of them again. It's his attempt to give Caleb a moment to recover.
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"See? He agrees!" Nott crows, as if that proves something. Somehow she's gone from scolding Ro to scolding him, but he'll take it. He'll take anything that isn't her going on like she had been.
The flirting--Caleb had identified it before, and now he's sure. It must be just part of Ro's personality; he's a charming man. It must be that, because the alternative is that he means it, and Caleb can't bring himself to believe that right now. It's been too long since someone looked at him and thought that he was seriously worth flirting with. This is by design.
Apparently his response has endeared Ro to Nott quite a bit, because she starts chatting with him eagerly after, which is good when Caleb cannot contribute. He sinks deeper into his scarf and looks ahead. It is cold. He can use that as an excuse, even if it is a flimsy one.
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They spend most of the day away from the road - it isn't difficult to cut across country between Ro's sense of direction and Caleb's knowledge of the land. It isn't difficult walking, and comfortable silences are broken up by conversation whenever Nott thinks of something to ask or whenever either Ro or Caleb are struck by a topic to bring up.
As the sun starts to sink toward the horizon, their attention turns toward finding a safe place to camp for the night. Between them, that isn't very difficult either, though they still take care to remain away from the road. By Caleb's thinking, they should be relatively safe to return to it tomorrow, given the distance they've put between themselves and the village they escaped.
Ro leaves Caleb and Nott to make a fire pit while he disappears to the nearby stream. Before too long, he comes back with some fish to cook.
While they wait for their dinner, or perhaps after, Ro unwraps the lute tied to his pack and tunes it before he plays one of the quieter tunes he knows.
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As if that weren't enough to be able to call this a good night, now there is music, too. Caleb doesn't know the song Ro is playing, but it is nice all the same. His eyes are closed, and his feet tap lightly against the ground as he picks up the slow rhythm. With the other hand he pets Frumpkin, curled up and purring in his lap. Feeling safe anywhere is foolish and dangerous, but at the very least he feels relaxed, which is rare enough. The trees are thick enough around them to hide the smoke from their fire, having three people for watch is much better than two, and it is encouraging to think that if something should happen, there is a healer on hand.
"This is a real treat for us," he says, eyes sliding open and head turning toward their new halfling companion. "Dinner and music. Isn't it, Nott?"
Nott perks up, long goblinoid ears lifting. "Oh, yes. Very nice!" She chirps, flashing crooked fangs around a mouthful of fish bones.
"What is the song you are playing?" Caleb wonders. "Something from Tal'Dorei?"
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"Happy to provide," he says, sincere in the sentiment. He looks over at Caleb when he asks about the song. "It's one I picked up on the Ozmit Sea," he answers, rather than saying it belongs to any one continent. "It's the first ocean I ever sailed on, and the one I grew up staring at."
He plays with more intention and, after a moment, begins to sing with quiet confidence:
"When the night is long and we're all full of dread, oh where am I to go? For we're all good n' lost and we're missing our beds, o Lady take us home. When we've run through our stores and our taking is high and we've nowhere left to roam, oh we'll keep our chins up and we'll look to the sky. O Lady take us home."
For the sake of his audience, Ro circles back to sing the entire song. At some point in his playing, his own foot starts tapping, keeping beat for himself and in time with Caleb's. In the song there's the mention of a copper-haired landlady, and Ro makes it a point to make eye contact with the copper-haired wizard sitting near him as he sings that part.
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There is a moment as he goes into the second verse where Ro's eyes lift and meet his. I was struck by the sheen of her copper red hair, he sings, and Caleb feels his face heat and his heart skip anxiously. He's too much of a coward to maintain eye contact for long, so he ducks his chin down into his scarf and scritches Frumpkin's head nervously in a way he knows is awkward, maybe even rude. But he can't--he doesn't know what to do with that. Caleb is aware Ro is just being friendly and having fun. But he's gone so long trying not to be noticed that any positive attention at all flusters him, especially from a man so kind, clever, and handsome.
Nonetheless, his foot continues to keep the beat, and when Frumpkin stretches and gets up from his lap, his fingers tap along against his knee, too. He manages to look at the halfling again before the song finishes, easier without the direct connection that had startled him so, and still has his stomach in a gentle knot.
It's been years--years and years--since he spent so much time around anyone other than Nott. Clearly he needs practice.
He joins Nott's clapping when the song comes to an end, desperately hoping he can manage to be slightly more normal for the remainder of the evening. "Another, another!" Nott cheers, saving him from having to say anything himself. He merely nods in agreement, and hopes his smile looks more natural than it feels.
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"You are the most gracious audience I've had in a while," he quips. His smile brightens when Nott insists on another. Ro peers over at Caleb, who looks--shy? Awkward? He's not entirely sure, but it's kind of cute.
Unable to resist the chance to maybe get a bit further into Nott's good graces, Ro picks up another song, one that's newer to him. At first he just plays a bit of it, then he peers over at Caleb again, his dark eyes warm and bright in the firelight.
"You'll have to tell me if this is something terrible," he says with a wry smile. "It's in Zemnian, I learned it from a bard a few towns over."
Ro feels a bit self-conscious choosing this song, of all things, when there is a man sitting here who speaks the language that he's about to sing in. A language that he barely knows at all. But he wants to try. And he's learned, through singing the song, that... there are things about Zemnian and Common that aren't that different. He thinks he understands some parts of it now, but not enough to say for sure he knows what it's about.
"Ich ging durch's Heidemoor allein, da hörte ich drei Vögel schreien. Auf einem Baum drei Raben stolz waren so schwarz wie Ebenholz."
Even if he doesn't speak Zemnian, Ro's pronunciation is smooth - almost flawless in terms of its mimicry. He's been practicing.
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He can't know what the words mean, but as he begins to sing, Caleb notes right away that his pronunciation is quite good; a useful skill, and probably a fair bit of practice. It's only a few lines before Caleb recognizes the song. Oh, he happens to know this one quite well.
The first time he heard it was in Blumenthal, when he was young, but it wasn't uncommon in the taverns and beer halls of Rexxentrum, either. It's been years, but he still finds himself humming along before he can think better of it, quiet but resonating. It's a bit melancholy in the way that many Zemnian songs and stories tend to be, but with an underlying sweetness. He remembers it in Wulf's low voice, the vibration through his wide chest as Bren pressed his ear against it, pleasantly beer-drowsy, the three of them tucked into a corner table as the bard sang.
Ro's voice couldn't be more different, but the feeling it conjures is also both melancholy and sweet. Caleb's expression is soft, though his eyes are a little distant, as he sings along in his head. For most of the song, at least. Toward the end, the words change to ones he hasn't heard before.
That stirs him from his half-reverie. This new ending outlines the futility of the hero's death, killed fighting for the sake of a more powerful man who will never acknowledge his sacrifice. It makes the grief of those who loved him loyally stand out starkly. The criticism of the Empire itself in the change is not veiled. This is the sort of thing his training taught him was worth keeping an ear out for, perhaps even a little digging, just to see if the bard might share more than sympathies with one of the underground resistance groups.
In many ways, it hits a little too close to home now.
Caleb claps again when Ro reaches the end, and offers, "Gut gemacht. That was very good. Your Zemnian, also. That song is fairly well known in the part of the Empire I am from. Though someone has altered the ending since the last time I heard it." Which, admittedly, was a long time ago.
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