Archive of Our Own ^beta

PART I: Travelers

Once upon a time, there lived two heroes - the Sacred Sword and the Crowned Shield. They fought side by side against a great evil, and after vanquishing it, they laid their armaments to rest in a hidden location so that one day, if evil returns to the world, two new heroes could take up the mantle.

That's what Hop keeps hearing, at least.

He practically puts on a show of crossing his arms and pouting in his bedridden state, even though nobody can see him. He's never even heard of this prophecy or whatever it is before today, but suddenly everyone seems to know about it. It sounds like the ravings of a bunch of lunatics, in his opinion. Nobody can even tell him the actual names of these 'heroes.'

Still... as disoriented as he was at the time, he can't deny the unnatural sight he saw back in the Slumbering Weald.

So Victor and Gloria are out there somewhere, and here he is - bed ridden until the doctor says it's safe for him to be on his feet again. He has a sneaking suspicion that if he was a little less... hyperactive as his mum says, there wouldn't be such a fuss; but it's clear that everyone knows that he'll be running around again the second they let him, especially since his two best friends are apparently bloody... ancient heroes reincarnated.

They'd clearly managed to somehow carry him back out of the forest, but he hasn't even gotten the chance to talk to them yet. He can hear cheers and celebrations outside, the whole village seemingly throwing a party to celebrate...

Well, Hop's not exactly sure what they're celebrating, really. Any excuse for a party, he supposes.

The idea of Vic and Glo getting... ancient powers or whatever is pretty cool, but he's not so sure about the whole "evil returning" part. He'd prefer it if any evil could stay away from his village, thank you very much.

Hop sighs heavily. He feels fine. A bit woozy, but nothing some fresh air won't fix. He eyes his bedroom door warily. His mother has given him a right thrashing already, tears streaming down her face as she repeated how she had told him to never go there. He winces internally. He hadn't meant to worry anyone, least of all his own mum. Lee isn't here anymore, and she didn't need to lose her only son that is still at home.

His fingers curl anxiously just thinking about his older brother. They haven't heard from him for nearly a year now. No visits, no letters, nothing except the money arriving in the post on the first of every month. How hard could it possibly be just to write a bloody letter? He's written plenty by now, all of which have gone unanswered. He scowls hard enough that his brow starts to ache. Positive thoughts, Hop. He must just be busy.

He squirms in place in his bed. He needs to get out there, needs to see Gloria and Victor. To thank them for saving him, first of all, but also because he wants to know what the hell is going on. He stands and dresses himself slowly, trying to think about how he's going to do this.

The door creaks loudly in the otherwise silent house, causing Hop's chest to tighten. He hadn't been planning on sneaking out per se, but that option is definitely off the table now. He walks slowly down the stairs, expecting his mother to raise hell over him coming even this far, but she just wraps her arms around him once he reaches the bottom.

"Please don't worry me like that again," she says, her grip on him tightening. "Promise me."

Hop lets out a heavy exhale into the hug. "I'm sorry..." he murmurs, "I didn't... I really didn't mean to." He knew he had a bit of a reputation for his... curiosity, but he really hadn't meant to go in there. It's like it had ensnared him the second he came too close. But he knows it isn't what she wants to hear. "I promise..." he whispers.

Mum sighs heavily. "Sit," she orders, gesturing to their dining table, "and I'll make you breakfast."

Hop's stomach grumbles in reaction. He didn't end up having that second breakfast after all. Or lunch. Or dinner. So he's starving.

She ends up cooking the fry-up of his dreams. She can't be that angry with him if she's going through all of this effort. He feels bad about the fact that he's going to ask to leave the house, but he can't stay cooped up in here much longer. Even if it's only been a single morning.

"Err... mum? Is it alright if I pop to Victor and Gloria's for a bit?" he asks meekly. He doesn't have much hope, but it's worth a try.

Mum gives him a look and Hop shrinks in response. She sighs. "The doctor said you need to rest. That he doesn't know what's wrong with you."

Hop sighs internally, not brave enough to do so aloud because that would be a quick way to get his ear pinched until he apologises. In his experience, Postwick's doctor doesn't know much of anything. He's a far cry from the magical healers he's heard about in the capital. Still, he understands that 'weird sickness from being in an evil forest' maybe isn't the most common ailment going around.

He just pouts, unwilling to argue with her after worrying her so much. He hangs his head slightly, then jolts when he hears a knock on the door. His eyes shoot up to his mum's face, and sees a small smirk on her lips.

"Go on. Answer the door for me, won't you?"

Hop flashes her a sunny grin. His mum is the best. He quickly bounds over to the door and opens it to see Victor and Gloria, and both of them immediately wrap him up into a hug. Gloria mutters insults into his ear, the way she always does when she's worried about him, while Victor just holds him as if he's going to disappear.

"G-guys... really, I'm okay! Really!" Hop insists, pulling back and putting on a grin to pretend he isn't still a bit rattled by the experience.

"You could have died!" Gloria jabs a finger forcefully into his chest, "You could have died there and we never would have even found you!"

Hop wilts, looking to Victor for support, only to find none. "What were you thinking, Hop?" he says, at least giving Hop a chance to actually explain himself.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to go in! It's like I got... dragged in?" he says lamely, feeling like he's lying and making up excuses even though he's pretty sure that's exactly what happened. Victor and Gloria exchange glances, seemingly having a silent conversation between themselves, and Gloria sighs heavily, seemingly relenting.

"Fine. I believe you. Lesson learned to not even get close to the place ever again." Gloria fixes him with a glare, as if daring him to argue. Which he won't, because she's terrifying when she's angry.

"I won't, promise! No more adventures for me!" Hop grins. He's maybe had enough adventure for a lifetime now.

Well, until something else catches his attention, but still! No more evil forests that want to kill him.

"Now can someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Hop, language!"

Hop cringes. He'd forgotten his mum was literally right there. "Bye Mum, we're just going into the garden, okay, bye!" He pushes Gloria and Victor out of the door before she can even have a chance to argue.

Victor and Gloria explain how they had seen the open gate to the Weald and somehow just knew that the footsteps leading in belonged to Hop. After maybe ten minutes of walking, they'd found him looking like he was on death's door, which is bollocks because he's pretty sure he'd walked for hours at least.

They'd ended up finding some shrine where they found some ancient, rusted weaponry which suddenly looked like new in front of their very eyes, and now feel different somehow.

"What do you mean different?" Hop prods with a frown on his face, not satisfied by the explanation at all.

"I dunno... just different." Victor says with a nonchalant shrug. How are they both so calm about this?

"Are you sure this isn't just the whole turning eighteen thing?" Hop says flatly. It has to be. They're just confused. Gloria just snorts and rolls her eyes, earning her a glare from Hop. Turning eighteen is important!

"I just don't understand!" Hop whines, "Everyone's saying you're some... ancient heroes reincarnated, but..." He exhales heavily through his nose. Victor and Gloria are already super cool. They're already heroes in Hop's eyes. They saved him, after all.

The twins shift uncomfortably, making it clear to Hop that at they are a bit unnerved by the whole thing as well. "We don't know, Hop. Neither of us..." she glances to Victor as if to confirm her thoughts, "Neither of us really have any clue what it all means."

Hop pouts, disappointed by the lack of answers. He takes a deep breath. He can be patient. They'll have answers eventually. Hopefully, at least...

"So, uhh... can I see them? The... weapons?" Hop tries. Prophecy or not, if the twins have found some super cool weapons in the Weald then he has to see them.

"Hell yeah, you can," Victor agrees readily, clearly of the same opinion as Hop that the whole thing is super cool, at least. Gloria shakes her head in bemusement, but the small smile on her face says it all.

Some tactical begging to his mother and an honest promise from the two siblings to bring Hop back if he doesn't feel very well, and they're on their way to Gloria and Victor's house again. If Hop had been the one to find these ancient weapons, he'd take them with him everywhere he goes, but the twins clearly held a little more care for them by leaving them at home. Maybe he'll understand why once he's seen them.

On the path to Victor and Gloria's house, Hop stumbles, clutching his head slightly. He feels dizzy. His eyes land on the treeline, on the Slumbering Weald. A part of him expects to see something, maybe evil eyes staring at him from the fog, but he sees nothing.

"Hey, you okay?" Gloria asks, the forceful tone in her voice practically daring Hop to lie.

He purses his lips. "Just a bit dizzy," he answers honestly. He looks towards the gate, which has not only been repaired, but has also been reinforced. A sign has been erected telling people to not go into the Weald, and Hop's eyes narrow when he notices an extra "Especially you Hop!" written on it, and before he can even lay out an accusation, Victor is walking ahead, whistling innocently.

All three of them excitedly head into the house, both siblings bounding up the stairs in an instant. As Hop goes to follow, he hears it.

Weeping.

He freezes for a few seconds, looking between the stairs and the kitchen before making his decision. He peeks his head in, and finds Victor and Gloria's mother sat at the table, just staring at nothing. Her eyes look puffy, as if she's been crying for a while. She jolts when she sees him. "Oh... Hop," she says, wiping the tears from her eyes as it to try to look more presentable.

Hop's breath catches in his throat, suddenly wanting to run away. This surely isn't any of his business, but...

"Err... whatever it is, it'll be okay! Mum always tells me everything will be okay as long as you— as long as you believe it will be." He knows the words are childish, just words repeated from a parent who probably just wanted their child to stop crying, but they've always stuck with him all the same. He believes in them wholeheartedly. Everything will always turn out okay in the end, because it just has to.

The twins' mother hesitates, as if she couldn't possibly fathom believing such a thing. Then, her face softens. She stands, before pulling Hop into a hug. "I'm glad you're okay, Hop," she says, a small affectionate smile on her face as she pulls back, the tears still staining her cheeks. Hop scratches his neck. He'd forgotten about all of that for a moment.

"T-thank you. You'll... be okay as well, I think," he says lamely. It's hard trying to comfort someone when you don't actually know what the problem is, and he has a feeling it isn't for him to hear. But he can't bring himself to leave her when she seems so upset.

Her tentative smile widens ever so slightly. "Thank you, Hop. And... I suppose we'll see," she says quietly, her smile dropping again.

"Hop! What's the hold up?" Victor shouts from up he stairs. Hop hesitates, looking back to their mum.

She lets out a small, amused exhale through her nose at Hop's insistence on not leaving her. "Go on, kiddo." She gestures towards the stairs.

Hop nods, but he can't shake a bad feeling that has started to take root in his mind.

No point dwelling on it, he supposes. He heads up the stairs and into Victor's bedroom.

"Check it out!" Victor says enthusiastically, unsheathing the sword from its scabbard.

"It came with a scabbard as well?!" Hop's eyes gleam with curiosity as he takes in the sight. It's a true knight's sword, as ornate as it could be without impeding it's function. He'd half-expected it to be encrusted with jewels, but he supposes an actual fighter wouldn't care about that sort of thing. Still, even he can tell the construction of it is exquisite, the metal almost looking like it's glowing.

Victor gives it a twirl, and it swishes through the air effortlessly. "Isn't it cool?" Victor strikes a pose, looking the perfect image of a hero. Hop smiles, because it's very cool.

Hop turns his attention to Gloria, holding her shield in a far less dramatic manner. A part of him wants to think that a sword is far cooler than a shield, but the bloody thing looks like it could somehow give him multiple concussion at once if he got bashed with it. It looks incredibly heavy, but Gloria seems to be able to hold it with a single hand just fine.

"Oh? Did the better one finally catch your attention?" Gloria says, a quiet pride in her voice as her head pokes over the top of the shield in her hands. Victor blows a raspberry from his spot and Hop giggles.

"Now, now, you're both equally cool," he says, channelling their mother when she wants them to stop fighting. Gloria snorts, clearly willing to not push it. Hop runs his hand's over the shield, the angular shape making it practically look like a battering ram. It's abundantly clear that it isn't just for defence, but is an offensive weapon in and of itself.

"Can I hold it?" Hop asks. It has to be super light for Gloria to carry it as easily as she can, and however many years of Wooloo farming have made Hop pretty strong, in his own eyes at least.

"Sure," Gloria says, giving a half shrug. Hop grins, and wraps his hand around to grip the handle, but the second Gloria lets go, the shield falls to the floor with a heavy clunk, taking Hop down with it. "Shit, Hop!" She pulls Hop back up to his feet, leaving the shield on the ground.

"I'm alright!" Hop insists, brushing off Gloria's attempts to stabilise him. He really is fine, but... that was embarrassing. He can salvage this.

He crouches down, and attempts to pick up the shield, but it barely budges. It's just so heavy. Glo is far from a weakling, but she isn't that strong, is she?

Victor walks over, and even with both boys working together to lift it, they can barely get it off the ground. "Bloody hell, Sis!" Victor lets out a grunt of effort before giving up with a huff, nearly causing Hop to tumble again. "How strong are you?"

Gloria's brows knit in confusion. "It's... really not that heavy?" She lifts it up again with one hand, causing both Hop and Victor to let out sounds of surprise.

Now, Hop isn't stupid. He can connect the dots sometimes. He tentatively wraps his fingers around the hilt of Victor's sword which had been left on his bed. As he expected, it's uncomfortably heavy. He can at least pick it up, but if he tried to swing the bloody thing it'd probably take him off of his feet.

So Victor and Gloria really are special then, and have seemingly been chosen by these weapons to be their wielders. The thought settles uncomfortably in Hop's gut, and he's not entirely sure why. Is it jealousy? He doesn't feel jealous. He's no warrior, no hero, and the prophecy seemingly agrees. That's fine, in Hop's mind.

"So have you actually sparred with them, yet?" Hop asks. Victor and Gloria exchange glances, and Victor grins.

"Well... we were kinda waiting for you!" he says, and Hop feels touched, his heart warmed by the gesture. Maybe that was it. He was just feeling a bit excluded, that's all.

"No point in showing off without our biggest fan around," Gloria agrees with a smirk. Hop sticks out his tongue. He was not a fan, more like an... enthusiastic supporter.

They vacate from the house, the twins' mum seeming a bit more put together by the time they walk past. They head to a nearby field - one which isn't currently being used by any Wooloo. They're all quiet as they approached the centre, almost eerily so, and Hop realises what's happening. Both siblings' faces were set in determination, their shoulders tense.

This is going to be a real fight.

A part of Hop wants to ease the tension, wants to remind them both that this isn't anything serious. Just a little spar for them both to see what their new weapons are capable of, that's all. And yet... he can't deny the thrill he feels at the thought of seeing them go all out for once, and with these... strange weapons to boot.

So he doesn't say anything. There's a rock that would allow him to see them a little better, and so he takes his position. Victor takes his spot on the eastern side of the field and does a flourish with his sword, ever the show-off. Hop can see Gloria roll her eyes even from his own position on the rock, and she enters her own defensive stance, fixing Victor with a serious gaze.

A sense of unease flows through Hop's veins. "Right... remember not to hurt each other, okay? Those things are a lot more dangerous than training swords," he says, voice wavering slightly. Both Gloria and Victor give subtle nods, and Hop supposes that was the most he's going to get. They both silently look to him, and Hop puts up his hands, and claps.

Victor charges forward immediately, bounding across the field while Gloria plants her feet. Hop isn't even sure how Gloria is supposed to fight when her sword is practically a stick in comparison to Victor's, fancy shield or not.

The air is knocked out of Hop's lungs from the sheer impact of sword clanging against shield. Victor immediately slides backwards, and Gloria charges forward at an unnatural speed. Hop gasps. The impact of the shield at that speed could kill Victor on impact, but Victor dodges, his feet sliding gracefully against the ground as he takes another swing. And another. And another.

Whatever strategy Gloria liked to employ before where she wears Victor out until he makes a mistake doesn't seem to be working at all. He just keeps going. It's like he's in a trance, operating on pure instinct. Each sound of sword against shield rings out far louder than anything Hop has ever heard in their spars.

Gloria realises quickly that she has to change tactics, beginning to actively deflect Victor's attacks instead of just taking them. A particularly sour hit rings out, and Victor is knocked off balance. Gloria plants a kick into his chest, sending him backwards. He barely regains his footing before Gloria can deliver a final blow, and counterattacks. Gloria's shield is knocked to the side, and in the time it takes Hop to blink, she's on the ground. She looks ready to keep going, but Hop decides to call it before one of them ends up drawing blood.

"T-that's enough!" Hop shouts out, and does a terrible job of hiding the worry in his voice. Whatever hesitations or trepidations he'd once seen in their spars seem like a distant memory now.

Gloria slams a fist into the ground in frustration, but concedes. Victor holds out a trembling hand to help her up. "You did good, Sis," he says, no mocking in his tone. Gloria pouts, but she accepts the hand anyway. Both of them are breathing heavily as they approach Hop, as if everything was quickly catching up to them, then Victor falls to a single knee, letting out a heavy gasp.

"V-Vic!" Hop calls out, quickly closing the gap between them. Victor's hands shake as he takes stuttering breaths. Gloria doesn't look much better off, quickly passing by to sit onto the rock.

"I'm okay..." Victor manages, "Just feel a bit sick." He swallows heavily, wiping the sweat off of his brow. Hop helps him to the rock, sitting him down next to his sister.

Hop just watches, brow knitted as the two of them slowly recover. Once they do, he starts his interrogation.

"So what the bloody hell was that?" He can admit there's maybe a more tactful way of approaching this, but he doesn't have any patience for it.

Both siblings hang their heads, guilty expressions on both of their faces. Gloria speaks up first. "I... I don't know what came over me. It's like I was just... able to fight in a way I wasn't able to before." She glances towards Victor, who nods slowly in agreement as he does his best to conceal his still shaking hands.

"I didn't... really feel like myself if I'm being honest..." he says, and Hop isn't able to stop the deep frown from appearing on his face. He doesn't like the sound of that. At all.

A voice rings out from behind them. "Sounds like that's the power of the sword and shield at work."

All three of them whip their heads around, seeing the tall orange-haired woman standing there.

"Sonia!" Hop calls out, bounding over to wrap his arms around her. She's a close family friend, and a constant presence in his life. If he's being honest, he's thought of her as a bit of a big sister ever since Leon left, but he'd never hear the end of it if he ever actually admitted that. "What are you doing here?" he asks. Ever since she landed that job in Wedgehurst she hasn't been around as much any more.

"Heya, Hoppip," she says cheerily, "I was in town, and someone had to investigate this ruckus." She nods towards Victor and Gloria who looked thoroughly scolded. Hop supposes it was all a bit... loud.

"Sorry, Ms Sonia..." Victor hangs his head, looking far less heroic than he had a few minutes ago.

Sonia just rolls her eyes playfully. "Don't worry about it, kiddo. I don't blame you for wanting to... test your new limits a little." Her finger gestures between Victor and Gloria. She'd clearly heard all about the two of them finding the sword and shield, then. Which also means...

"And you."

Hop lets out a squeak as Sonia's fingers pinch onto his ear.

"What were you thinking?" she hisses, a displeased look on her face. Hop winces, partly because it hurts but also because the list of people he's apparently made lose hairs over him only seems to be growing.

"Oh, you know me Sonia, I don't do much of that thinking thing," he says but Sonia's pinch only tightens, causing him to squawk. "Ah, sorry, sorry, sorry!"

She mercifully lets go, wagging a finger in his face. "Do not worry your mum like that again. Or me," she demands, and Hop nods, cheeks reddening in shame. Sonia's scolding expression instantly switches back to a grin and she ruffles his hair. "Good! Now, as for the two of you." She gestures back to the twins and claps her hands.

"I want you to tell me everything."

Hop mostly tunes out the recap. He's heard it all before after all. Sonia listens with rapt attention, ever the history buff.

"So... what do you know?" Gloria interrogates in return. Hop's ears perk up at that, because Sonia surely knows more about what's happening than the Postwick locals do.

Sonia brings a thoughtful finger to her chin. "Well... what you said was pretty much all correct, as far as I know," she says with a nod, before looking a little distracted. "It's a pretty obscure myth, though. Or at least I thought it was just a myth," she adds. It's pretty clear she's referring to Gloria and Victor's fight, which was far from normal. They're decent fighters, but what he saw can only really be explained by... magic or something.

"What about the whole... evil returning part?" Victor asks quietly, shifting in place in his sat position.

Sonia purses her lips. "Well... jury is still out on that one, kiddo," she says carefully. Hop isn't sure if any of them want to even entertain the thought. Sonia stretches languidly and yawns. "If you're asking me, well..." she gestures vaguely around, and they all look around the peaceful field, over the rolling hills, and to the distant trees. "I don't see any evil. Do you?"

Hop gives a slow shake of his head. Seems like none of them can argue with that. There's no point worrying about some obscure old prophecy that could have changed countless times over the centuries since it was first created.

"Either way..." Sonia starts with a grin towards Gloria and Victor. "You've both got quite the journey ahead of you, eh?"

Hop's stomach drops, and the pieces all fall into place. Their mother's crying... the looming dread he's been feeling all day...

Victor and Gloria are leaving.

Hop is still wheezing ten minutes later, the four of them now well on their way towards Wedgehurst. Sonia's at least carrying one of his bags now, but he's not sure what he's going to do once they go on without her.

"What, no Mudsdale and carriage?" Hop asks. Maybe they're just getting one at Wedgehurst. Even though they cost a fortune that they definitely do not have.

Sonia rolls her eyes playfully as if the idea is ludicrous, which it isn't because Vic and Glo are supposed to be ancient bloody heroes, but whatever. Walking it is.

Victor slows down slightly and puts an arm around Hop's shoulder with a grin. "I'm glad you're coming with us. Would've drove me nuts being around Glo so long without you," he says, unapologetically loud to ensure that Gloria hears.

"Could say the same," Gloria says as she turns around. "The only one who can rein in this bozo is you, so I'm glad you're here too."

Hop just sighs. Maybe these two are about to be more hard work than he'd bargained for.

It doesn't take long to arrive in Wedgehurst. The place is utterly bustling compared to Postwick, which... isn't really saying much, but still. Hop has always loved to browse the market stalls, always finding something to take home with him. He doesn't come to Wedgehurst terribly often anymore, not since Sonia moved here because she was usually the one to take him in the first place.

Hop feels a gentle hand against his back, as if to corral him before he gets swept away in it all. "C'mon, kiddo. We're heading to the armourer first," Sonia says, which makes Hop's ears perk up. He's never been there before.

The armourer's shop is relatively small, displays lining the walls filled with armour pieces ranging from chestpieces, helmets, gauntlets, boots, the works. Gloria especially looks enamoured by the idea of getting to wear an actual suit of armour.

Hop's eyes land on the most... metallic chestpiece he can find and grimaces the second he sees the price. No wonder this place is filled to the rafters.

Thankfully, the armourer slashes his prices quite a bit when he gets told that Vic and Glo are the prophesised heroes, saying that he'd be honoured to help them out.

Word has already spread to Wedgehurst, evidently.

The pieces the man brings out aren't anything terribly special - apparently you need special training for proper metal armour and they probably couldn't afford it even with the armourer's generosity. Hop's nose twitches a bit in disdain as he watches the twins get fitted. It's only been two bloody days and his birthday gift to Gloria doesn't seem so special now that it's just one piece of many.

Still, a warmth does bloom in his chest when Gloria insists on keeping the pauldron on, even if it doesn't match the rest.

Victor squirms uncomfortably as they exit the building, rolling one of his shoulders. "Don't really like it. Feels weird," he complains.

Hop hums. He supposes he can understand that. Even if it all seems quite light - just leather and a bit of animal hide, it doesn't look particularly comfortable. "Better than dying though, eh?" He nudges Victor, who looks like he doesn't especially appreciate the reminder of his own mortality. "'Sides, you'll get used to it once you've trained a bit with it on," Hop adds, which placates Victor as well as he knew it would.

They wander the stalls of the market area, a sense of quiet overtaking them all. Hop feels like an understanding is settling between them, a feeling that their journey hasn't really started yet. It wouldn't be until they leave Wedgehurst that they're truly on the road, into unknown territory.

Hop spots his favourite stall in it's usual spot ahead of him and picks up his pace. To the surprise of probably no one, Hop doesn't have much interest in most of the stalls around him, selling tools, or fresh produce, or fabrics. Though, he does like to run his fingers along the colourful cloths of that one stall, always feeling a bit rubbish when he doesn't actually buy any.

His favourite stall is that of the woodworker's. She makes models of all sorts of things, many of which Hop has never seen before, and he can never resist the urge to take one home with him. He's built quite the collection over the years by now. His fingers wrap gently around a model of a sailboat.

Hop has never seen the sea before, and he wonders if he'll get the chance to do so on the journey ahead of him. Postwick is pretty much smack-bang in the middle of southern Galar, and sadly Wyndon is very much in the middle of northern Galar. So maybe there isn't much of a chance of that unless they take a massive detour, and while Hop wants to put the entire idea of there being some evil out there that Vic and Glo are destined to vanquish out of his mind, he doesn't quite enjoy the image of said hypothetical evil winning because he wanted to go to the seaside.

A soft sigh escapes Hop's lips. There probably isn't much reason to waste his money on the sailboat since he isn't going to be able to actually take it home.

He feels Gloria bump her hip into his, and she speaks up. "Go on," she says with a small smile. "You know you want it."

Hop huffs, because he does want it. It might be a long time until it can join the rest of his collection, but...

He walks away from the stall with a pep in his step. He just likes them, okay? Two bags means plenty of space for knickknacks. He tries not to think too much about how that's now a tiny bit more strain on his back once he's back to carrying both of his bags. He's turning the ornament over in his palm when he remembers. He needs a pen.

One of the cleaner looking shops gleams in the gap between two stalls, and Hop breaks off. They probably sell pens.

A bell rings when Hop opens the door, making him jump. He thinks the bell is there to attract the shopkeeper's attention but the lady behind the counter doesn't even give him a glance. Hop's eyes slowly roam over the shelves and he realises that he's hit the jackpot. Expensive looking rolls of paper, paints, and... sketchbooks?

Hop isn't sure why, but he's suddenly taken by the idea. A sketchbook could be a perfect way to document his journey, both with notes and drawings. He's not sure if he'll ever have much time to travel again in his life once he gets back to Postwick, so it sounds like a nice way to immortalise the days ahead of him.

A soft thunk sounds out as Hop places his things on the counter, and he makes a show of clearing his throat when the woman running the shop doesn't react. A sketchbook and a pen, that's it. As tempting as it is to start buying things he knows he doesn't need. The woman glances up from her book with an bored expression, and Hop could swear that she's the spitting image of Postwick's librarian. A sister, maybe?

The shopkeeper yawns as she looks over Hop's things. "Five gold," she says, and it takes everything in Hop for him to not choke on his own spit. Five gold?! For a bloody pen and a book!? He shifts awkwardly and the lady rolls her eyes. "It has a waterproof and damage-resistant enchantment on it," she says as she taps a nail on the sketchbook, and that catches Hop's attention. He's heard of enchanted items, weapons mostly, but never an enchantment so mundane.

Still, magic is magic, and magic is incredibly cool.

One transaction and a tragically lighter coinpurse later, and Hop is exiting the store. A part of him thinks that his mum would be livid with him for spending so much of his money so soon, but he also knows that she's his biggest enabler. He goes to tuck the book and pen into his bag, grimacing when he sees how disorganised it all is. He'll fix it later.

Hop pauses, running his fingers along the spine of the book and quickly thumbing through its pages. Magic has always interested him. How could it not? Certain people are just capable of making the impossible possible. They can shoot fire out of their hands, move water just by thinking, or even heal people's wounds!

If Hop had to pick, he'd choose to be able to do that, has already wished for that before when tending to Victor's bleeding hands and Gloria's thankfully more minor injuries. Maybe it's impatience on his part, or maybe he just can't stand to see people hurt.

His eyes land back on the book. Some mages use their powers to make waterproof books as well, apparently. He tentatively pinches the edge of a page, hoping it doesn't just immediately rip. It definitely feels stronger than any other paper he's ever touched. It's almost disappointing in comparison to flinging fireballs, but not quite. It's cool in it's own way. Maybe one day stuff like this will be more common place.

Magic hasn't really been accepted in Galar for very long, as far as Hop knows. His mum has told him stories of how mages were persecuted when she was younger, and how things changed when the current King of Galar ascended to the throne, around when he was born.

Even now, people in Postwick seem to distrust mages, even though Hop is decently confident that none of them have even met one. It seems a bit unfair to judge people just because they're capable of something you're not.

"Find anything interesting?"

Hop jolts, and turns to see that Sonia has been looking over his shoulder. She's so bloody tall these days. He hums. "Bought a notebook and a pen," he says, making sure not to mention any prices as he slips them into his bag. He'll just do some odd jobs in the villages they'll inevitably be passing through if he really needs more money. It'll be fine.

Sonia walks around him. When he looks back up he sees her kneeling down and holding out a knife, handle pointed towards him. "For emergencies," Sonia says simply.

"E-err... I dunno if that's necessary—"

"It is," Sonia insists. "Either way, it'll be useful for plenty of other things. Take it."

Hop winces as he takes the blade, scared of accidentally cutting himself with it. He's never been much of one for weapons, but... he supposes Sonia is right that it could be handy as a tool. It thankfully looks more like a tool than a weapon, a serrated edge that makes it look more useful for chopping than stabbing. He swallows, feeling a bit queasy at the thought of ever actually needing to use it for self defence.

Sonia sighs softly. "You're a good kid, Hop, but there's a lot of bad people out there. I really hope you won't have to use it, but I don't want to imagine a world where you needed to protect yourself but couldn't."

Hop nods slowly. He won't dare to use it if he doesn't absolutely have to, and he'll definitely never... kill anyone, no matter what. He looks over the clips on his bag. There's no point burying it in there, but he can't really find anywhere that feels appropriate to put it.

Sonia snorts, before pulling out a belt, one far more appropriate for holding a weapon than his own which just sort of... holds up his trousers and belts his tunic and that's it.

"You're spoiling me..." Hop complains with warm cheeks, but he allows Sonia to do it up for him. Between the allowance from his mum and Sonia's generosity, he's not sure he's ever had so much money spent on him in his entire life.

"Not like I'm going to have much of a chance to spoil you after tomorrow," Sonia counters as she finishes tightening up the belt. She places the knife into the integrated scabbard. "There we go! Now you look like a real adventurer!" she says, pinching Hop's cheek.

Hop swats her hand away. He's sure he doesn't, especially with her doting over him like this, but he supposes being visibly armed like this makes him seem a bit less... robbable than he would otherwise.

If Hop is being honest, the rest of the day was a boring affair. His usual trips to Wedgehurst only last a couple of hours, but Sonia insists on them getting one last good night's sleep at the inn instead of continuing on today. Hop doesn't disagree, but it's led to a lot of wandering through the marketplace, seeing the same stalls over and over in order to burn daylight.

When the sun finally starts to dip below the horizon, Sonia pays for their rooms at the inn and says that they should probably turn in early. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and they're not going to end it sleeping in an actual bed.

She only pays for two rooms, because she's feeling stingy all of the sudden, keeping one to herself while Hop, Gloria, and Victor share the other.

"It's like a sleepover!" Victor says with a grin.

Gloria fake gags. "Sleepover or not, the two of you are sharing," she says, already laying herself down on one of the two beds, which is fair. She's the girl after all.

Once the candles are blown out, moonlight filters in softly through the window, illuminating the room in a blue hue. Adrenaline pumps through Hop's veins, just as it had the night before. He resists the urge to sneak outside again because he doesn't want to accidentally fall asleep in the grass a second time. He's lucky that he didn't end up hurting his back.

Tomorrow, their journey really begins. They'll be camping under the stars, washing themselves in streams, cooking their own food over a campfire. Countless thoughts swirl through his mind. How long will they be on the road? How much walking will it be? Do any of them actually know how to cook bloody anything?

He sighs softly. He turns onto his side to see Victor already doing the same, staring back at him. Hop snorts. "Can't sleep either...?" he whispers.

Victor shakes his head. "Can't settle," he replies simply.

Hop hums quietly, and decides to ask a question that's been on his mind for a bit. "How do you... feel? About all of this?" he gestures vaguely with a single hand, hoping it comes across that he means the fact that Vic and Glo are prophesised heroes. Allegedly. Victor opens his mouth to speak, but Hop interrupts. "What you actually think, please."

Hop snickers softly as Victor pauses to think, since it clearly means that he's changing his original answer. "I dunno... I think I'm nervous," Victor admits quietly. "It's just... a lot to take in."

Victor can talk a big game, but Hop remembers when he was actually the more shy twin by far when they were younger. Hop enjoys the bravado, but it's nice to see the old Victor every now and then as well. "It is, isn't it? How d'you think I feel when I was bloody knocked out for most of it?" he jokes.

A soft, airy laugh escapes Victor's lips and he breaks eye contact. "Can't believe you're actually coming with us," he says, his fingers rubbing nervously against the bedding. "Glad you are, though... Would've missed you a lot."

Hop's mouth hangs open briefly, then he smiles. "Would've missed you an' Glo too. That's why I wanted to come so much. Surprised Mum let me, honestly."

Victor hums. "Me too... 'specially after, uh. Y'know..." he trails off. After Lee.

That's the other reason he wanted to go. To give Lee a piece of his bloody mind and drag him home if needs be. "Gonna be weird actually seeing him. It's been nearly a year now. I must have grown at least half a foot since then!" Hop grins, even though every time he thinks about Lee these days he wants to scowl. Or cry.

He considers the worst sometimes. That Lee isn't okay, and that's why the visits and the letters have stopped, that they just send the money to keep him and Mum from knowing that he might be—

Victor's hand lands gently on his shoulder, and Hop realises how his smile must have fallen. "He's alright. He's got to be. Do you know who we're talking about?" he says with a cheeky smile, and Hop laughs because yes, he definitely does.

"Lee's the strongest warrior in the entire region. As if anyone or anything could ever beat him," he says, and he does feel a bit better now that he's said it out loud.

Victor grins at Hop's improved mood before giving him a conspiratorial look. "Except me, obviously. Gotta teach him a lesson for making you worry," he says, and Hop laughs again.

"Can you two bloody shut up?" Gloria hisses from the other bed, and oh they must have stopped whispering at some point.

Oops.

Hop buries his face into the blanket, unable to suppress a snicker as Victor gives a big dramatic roll of his eyes, but they both decide to be quieter anyway. They might not be able to sleep but there's no point in dragging Glo down with them.

Hop bites his lip nervously. He hasn't had much of a chance to talk to them about what happened in the field. "Are you really... alright? After..." he trails off. After you looked like you were ready to drop dead after only a minute of fighting, Hop doesn't say out loud.

Victor purses his lips and breaks eye contact. "M'fine. Just left me feeling... drained. That's all." He doesn't sound like he's lying at least.

"Why do you think that happened? I know you were going a bit all out, but..." They both know that Victor can train for hours before he gets tired. What happened was straight-up abnormal.

Victor gives a half-hearted shrug. "I mean... Sonia said it was probably the sword, right? Made me a better fighter than I am. Feels a bit like cheating, honestly," he says with a small pout and Hop can't help but smile. Victor's always believed in working hard to achieve his goals. He'll get bored if he has nothing to improve upon. "Maybe the more we use our weapons the less it'll... drain us, I guess," he adds.

Hop supposes that makes sense. They're just weapons after all. Magical ones, surely, but maybe it's not so simple as them just turning their wielders into expert fighters. "Well, at least you have something to work towards, eh?" he says with a grin.

"Maybe..." Victor says quietly, and rubs his eyes sleepily.

It doesn't take long after that for Hop to start to drop off, now that his questions have been answered. His excitement over tomorrow fades to the back of his mind as he closes his eyes.

Breakfast downstairs in the inn is a quiet affair. Sonia woke them up at dawn, and probably woke up everyone else in the inn while she was at it.

"C'mon, get your food down you! You're burning daylight," she says, which is false because the sun isn't even properly up yet.

"We're not at boot camp, Sonia," Victor counters, and he must be in a bad mood to actually talk back to her.

"Okay, grumpy face," Sonia counters back. "You'll be waking up at this time every day if you want to reach Wyndon this century, so get used to it!"

Victor grumbles into his porridge, and Hop can't disagree with the sentiment. It's so early that his stomach is churning as he tries to eat his own food, though maybe it's also the anticipation of what's to come causing it.

Independence. Real independence. So much independence that it's scary. Hop can admit he's been a bit spoiled and coddled his entire life, so actually having to rely on himself is a daunting prospect.

"And you," Sonia starts, and Hop immediately ducks his head. "Quit moping! You have the time of your life ahead of you!" she says, and it only turns him off even more. A part of him wants to go home and apologise to his mum for whatever nonsense that's been filling his head the last few days.

Sonia points to Gloria's empty bowl. "See? Gloria knows what it's about," she says, and both boys narrow their eyes until they realises that Gloria is dead silent and looks like she's about to vomit. Seems it's three against one. Sonia rolls her eyes with a huff, and allows them to finish their breakfast at a reasonable pace.

Hop's stomach settles a bit once they're out in the fresh air. The morning sun shines over the distant fields, fields that they'll be walking between very soon. They stroll past the stalls they'd perused yesterday, most of them still getting set up.

The group pauses once they reach the outskirts, and for the first time, Hop will continue north instead of heading back home to Postwick. Hop traces the path ahead in his mind, noticing how he can only see as far as a hill not too far away.

A pair of arms wrap around his shoulders and Sonia pulls him into a hug. "You come back, you hear?" she says, voice uncharacteristically soft, which only slightly makes up for the ominous implications of her words.

"I'm not dying, Sones. Just gonna be gone for a bit," Hop says, and he notices how Sonia's shoulders relax slightly. He thought he'd be the one getting comforted, but maybe it's the other way around. She sighs softly.

"Alright, kiddo. And remember, letters! To myself and your mum, non-negotiable," she says with a smirk.

Hop rolls his eyes, but his his lips curl into a smile. His trepidation has given way to excitement, and he won't really be that far away from home as long as he has his letters. He's deeply thankful to Sonia for it all. He'll have to include Vic and Glo also, have them send letters to their mum as well.

"Bye, Sonia. I'll send you a letter when we reach Motostoke," Hop promises, and Sonia nods.

"Great! I'll let you know if I dig anything up about..." she twiddles her fingers between Victor and Gloria, who also thankfully look like they're beginning to calm down compared to how they were at breakfast.

"Alright..." Hop says quietly. He scuffs his boots against the dirt path, and realises that he's stalling. He's not sure if he's ready to leave. Sonia snorts and spins him back around to the path ahead.

"Go on! Go find the adventure you're craving! Just not too much adventure, eh?" she says with a wink, and Hop realises then that she's apparently utterly incapable of stopping herself from dropping constant foreboding comments that freak him out, so he decides it definitely is time to leave.

Sonia gives the twins a few final hair ruffles, and the three of them are on their way. They walk silently along the path, Wedgehurst to their back, until they reach the top of the hill that Hop noticed before.

Hop turns and spots a conspicuous head of red hair in the distance, still watching from where she'd been standing before. He gives a small wave, then turns...

And walks forward.

Once they reach the bottom of the hill, Hop checks behind him again, Wedgehurst and Sonia no longer in view. It's wilderness ahead for miles now, only occasional tiny villages the size of Postwick until Motostoke which is at least... a week away, by Hop's uneducated estimations.

A smile lands on his face, and he giggles. "I can't believe we're doing this!" He out his arms and twirls, as if to emphasise the sheer freedom he's feeling.

Victor turns around, having been walking ahead, and grins. "Race you to that tree," he says, pointing to an oak in the distance, one which is decidedly off track but Hop isn't one to turn down a challenge.

"You're on!" he says, immediately throwing off one of his bags and shoving it into Gloria's arms. She lets out a sound of surprise as both boys immediately bound towards the oak tree atop the hill on the horizon.

"You're both so childish!" she shouts at them, which gets promptly ignored.

When Hop reaches the top first, he poses proudly. Victor might be better than him at a lot of things, but running isn't one of them. He's quick when he needs to be. Victor gives a dramatic bow in defeat when he arrives, and they both break into snickers at the sheer absurdity of their situation.

That is, until they spot Gloria at the base of the hill, and they both realise that they're dead meat.

Victor's punishment is that he has to carry Gloria's bag as well has his own for the next two hours, and Hop's punishment is the knowledge that she's disappointed in him, which is a lot worse in Hop's opinion.

Hop's feet start to hurt far sooner than he'd expected.

Now, Hop likes to think himself quite fit. He can run through all of Postwick without running out of breath (at least when he isn't overloaded with two bags and in a bit of a tizzy), but evidently that doesn't translate to all of this walking.

And walking.

And walking.

He lets out a whine. "How long until we make camp?" He knows he sounds like a petulant child, and that it definitely isn't any time soon, but maybe it'll placate him a bit if he gets a time frame.

Gloria, who is leading the charge now since she's the only one who isn't carrying two bags, stops and turns. "I don't know. When the sun goes down, I suppose," she says, then shrugs, clearly not as bothered by the whole situation as he is.

Hop's lips curl into a small pout, completely unplacated because that's ages away, but he soldiers on. He's not a complainer. Yet.

Victor slows down slightly to walk side by side with Hop. "Bit hot, innit?" he says, and Hop gives a hum of agreement. It isn't really any hotter than yesterday, but it's a lot less nice when there aren't any trees to hide under, or streams to dip your feet in, or nice refreshing drinks made by your mum or your friends' mum who is also sort-of your mum as well.

Hop lets out a small huff. It's probably a bit early to already be missing them both, and it's going to be a long time before he gets to see them again.

At least he has Lee to look forward to, eventually.

Another couple of hours go by, and Victor has finally been relieved of bag duty. The sun is at its peak, and it feels like it's beaming down on them. Hop decides he's had enough. "There's some trees up ahead." He points to a small clump of them surrounding the road not too far ahead. "Let's just take a break, yeah?"

The twins turn around, their usually pale faces flushed red, and Hop wonders if the two of them even know the meaning of the word break when he isn't around.

They reach the trees, a small copse at best, and Hop plops himself down at the base of the largest tree with a sigh. It isn't much, but it'll do. He's heard that much of southern Galar was deforested years ago, both to make room for all the sprawling farmland, as well as to be sent to Motostoke for construction.

He's quietly thankful that none of that quite managed to reach Postwick. All the fields of crops around here are interesting and all, but he thinks he prefers the unspoiled beauty of his hometown.

The thought does give him an idea, though. What would happen if he went at the Slumbering Weald with an axe? If he were a more vengeful person, he'd consider it, but... forgive and forget, eh?

Hop sips languidly at his canteen. Soon enough, they'll have to refill at a stream. He isn't sure how he feels about drinking water from an unfamiliar source. Will it taste different? Feel... different? He wants to document everything he possibly can, and he means everything.

He pulls out the book and pen. This is a perfect opportunity to write something. It's the beginning of their journey! The real beginning. They're in uncharted territory now! Er, well, uncharted for them at least. He puts pen to paper and...

Nothing really comes to mind. Nothing except complaints about the sun and how he wishes he'd bought comfier shoes while he had the chance in Wedgehurst.

His eyes drift over the landscape around him. It feels familiar, yet simultaneously different to what he's seen his entire life. More crops, less Wooloo, and the rolling hills around Postwick have given way to something far flatter. He drinks in the sights of multicoloured fields, of distant cottages, of weathered roads and crumbling walls...

And he starts to draw.

After a while, Hop looks over his work. It's... amateur, because of course it is, but Hop feels proud of himself anyway. He's never really had much of a chance to draw before since paper is far from abundant in Postwick, and what little they have is usually saved to write letters to Lee.

"Watcha doing?"

Hop slams the book shut and turns to see Gloria, who was looking over his shoulder, sporting an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak up on you." She nods towards the book. "Nice drawing."

Hop flushes slightly before letting out a soft exhale. It's nothing to be embarrassed over. "You think so?" he says, opening the book back up. He purses his lips as he looks over it. Maybe he should have done something more... special for the first page. Like a foreword or something.

Gloria nods. "You have an eye for detail," she says, pointing towards a cottage he admittedly did put a bit of extra effort into drawing. "And way more patience than me. I remember trying to draw something a few years ago and I ripped it up and threw the pencil out the window 'cause it was annoying me."

Hop snickers into his palm. That sounds like Glo, alright. "Bet your mum gave you a proper bollocking," he says with a glint in his eye, and Gloria snorts.

"She did, a bit. Wasting money and all that, but she chilled out pretty quick. Said something about being glad I was trying new things even if it didn't work out," she says, and that sounds a lot like their mum as well.

"What did you try to draw?" Hop asks. He's not surprised that Gloria didn't especially enjoy it. She's not usually the sort for... creative endeavours.

"My bedroom window," she replies, and Hop quirks an eyebrow.

"The... window? Not the view outside of it?" he says, and Gloria just glares at him in a way that leaves him unsure if it means that she obviously drew the view, or that she's a bit embarrassed that she lost her rag trying to draw a glorified square.

Hop's eyes drift over to Victor, who looks to be sleeping soundly as he rests against another tree. Hop knows how much Victor likes to have a lie-in, so getting up so early this morning was probably a massive shock to his system. He looks peaceful, so Hop decides to leave him be.

"Would it be too evil if I threw water over his head?" Gloria says, already uncapping her canteen.

Hop chokes, and then giggles quietly. "A bit, maybe. At least let him rest for a bit more first." There's still a lot of daylight left before they actually stop and make camp, and they need all the rest they can get. "And it'd be a bit of a waste of water," he adds, and Gloria snorts in response.

"I dunno if I'd quite call it a waste, but I know what you mean."

Hop rolls his eyes and shakes his head, not even deigning that with a response, and returns to his drawing. He fills out a few more details and resists the urge to let his imagination run wild. This book is an important document, or at least it will be once it's done. He has to keep things truthful, so he ultimately decides to not draw the clouds to look like Wooloo, as tempted as he is.

Another ten minutes, and Gloria's patience runs out. "Alright, sleepyhead, you have five seconds to get on your feet before I dump my entire canteen over you."

Victor mumbles out something unintelligible, and then his eyes bolt open, suddenly registering the threat. "I'm up, I'm up!" he squeaks out as he scrambles to his feet.

Hop smiles to himself as the two get back to bickering, and wonders if moments like these are the sort that'll get cut out of the storybooks that inevitably get written about Victor and Gloria's adventures one day.

The remaining few hours of walking are easier, and Hop walks them with a pep in his step. Maybe it's because the sun is to their backs now, or maybe it's because he's looking forward to their upcoming dinner. Gloria bought some meats from the butcher at Wedgehurst, and Hop has been salivating at the thought of it all day.

In either case, things are looking up in Hop's mind.

His eyes scan for a decent place to camp. They only have an hour or so of daylight left, so they'd best find a good spot soon. He spots a pair of travellers walking along the road towards them - Gingko Guild merchants, Hop thinks, based on their clothes.

Apparently, they travel through all of Galar and even other regions, selling and procuring new goods as they go along. He actually bought Victor's gloves from one of them a few months ago, though he doesn't think it was from either of the pair ahead of him.

Most people in Postwick don't trust them. They're always down for a chat, though, even if Hop doesn't end up buying anything, so they're good people in his books. If he wasn't knackered, he'd probably ask to see their wares, but he's so tired he doubts that he'd make wise decisions with money right now.

Not that he makes very wise decisions with his money when he's wide awake either, but still.

Hop waves enthusiastically once they're close. "Hello!" he says with a sunny grin.

One of the merchants snorts, seemingly amused by Hop's energy so late in the day. "Hey," he says, "Pretty far away from... just about anything, huh? You all from Wedgehurst?"

Hop shakes his head. "Postwick actually! A bit further south."

"Postwick, huh?" the other merchant, a woman, echoes. "Never heard of it."

"Aw yeah, it's a bit sleepy," Hop says, which is an understatement. "Don't get many merchants, but it's nice when we do!"

"Hah, well... don't think we'll be heading that far. Sorry, kiddo," the man says, and Hop just shrugs. He isn't gonna be there, so it's fine.

Hop gets an idea, because they're heading in the same direction the merchants just came from. "Did you see any decent places to camp on your way here?" One that isn't too far away, ideally.

The woman nods. "There's a spot... maybe twenty minutes away? You'll see it. Pretty common Ginkgo Guild spot, but we're going to push on for a couple more hours. See if we can be selling in Wedgehurst before sundown tomorrow," she says, and Hop understands. Time is money, he heard one say once.

He gives an appreciative smile. "Thanks! We'll camp there tonight, then."

The man speaks up again. "Where you all headed, then? Motostoke, I assume." He nods vaguely behind him, where Motostoke must eventually lie.

"Motostoke first, yes, but we're actually heading all the way to Wyndon!" Hop says, and both merchants raise their eyebrows at that.

"Wyndon? I mean, I get it, city of opportunity and all that, but it's pretty far for a bunch of kids, isn't it?" the woman says.

Hop's nose curls. "We're not kids! They're eighteen." He points back towards Victor and Gloria, who look... weirdly pensive? "And uh. I'm also eighteen," he lies. They don't need to know specifics. "And besides! We're not just a bunch of kids, cause they're—"

"Hop."

Hop turns to see Gloria glaring at him and Victor hanging back awkwardly, and Hop kicks himself mentally. He supposes the merchants don't need to know about that. "Err... nothing. Never mind," he says lamely.

The merchants exchange a look, before clearly deciding to let it go. "Well, good luck anyway," she says, but her expression turns hesitant. "Look... a piece of advice? Stick to the main roads. Stuff's been... weird, recently."

Hop's brow knits in response, and he can feel how even the twins have suddenly checked into the conversation.

"Weird?" Gloria speaks up, and the man shifts uncomfortably.

"Dunno. Something in the air. Traveller's intuition, let's call it. Times are changing in Galar, and I'm not sure if it's for the better," he says, and it leaves Hop wondering if everyone who has travelled the region ends up being just as bloody ominous and cryptic as Sonia is.

Based on the look on Gloria's face, Hop imagines she's thinking the same. "We'll keep an eye out," she says, and her tone makes it pretty clear that she considers the conversation over.

The merchants leave quickly after that, and Hop shrinks slightly as Gloria walks up to him. She isn't frowning anymore, at least. "Sorry. I just... didn't trust them," she says quietly, and Hop tilts his head in confusion.

"They were just merchants, weren't they? S'not like they were bandits or anything," he says. He understands not blabbering about the sword and shield to anyone that could be a threat, but...

Gloria's expression remains pensive. "Maybe... but you did tell them exactly where we plan to camp. And while I don't necessarily believe the rumours..." She trails off.

Hop swallows. He does know the rumours, that the Ginkgo Guild are always looking for things to swipe if they get the opportunity, but Hop has never been one for gossip. He's never had reason to believe that they're dangerous, or that they're thieves, and he isn't the sort to judge people just because they're dissimilar to himself. Postwick's roots run deep, so of course they distrust nomads like the Ginkgo Guild.

Still, Hop can admit that telling people where you plan to sleep tonight and that you also have one-of-a-kind, possibly priceless artifacts with you maybe isn't the best of ideas.

"Sorry, Glo. Wasn't thinking," he says. Maybe he needs to watch what he says more often. This must be exactly the sort of thing Sonia warned him about.

Gloria waves him off. "Don't worry about it. I'll never judge you for your yapping," she says, and bumps Hop's shoulder with her own.

Hop puffs out his cheeks indignantly. "I don't yap, I'm just... conversational."

Victor, the traitor, finally decides to chime in. "You'd have chatted their ears off all night if we'd let you," he says with a smirk, and Hop narrows his eyes. So that's how it is.

"Oi, don't think I don't notice that you go all quiet the second there's strangers around," Hop accuses, because Victor's been skulking behind Gloria ever since the merchants turned up.

Victor's cheeks flush, but he doesn't deny it, and walks ahead with a pout on his lips.

The merchants were right when they said they couldn't miss the campsite. There's a flat, open field right next to the road that shows clear signs of a campfire having been lit recently in the middle of it. Ancient-looking, waist-high stone walls surround it, and Hop wonders how long people have camped here. Decades? Centuries?

A soft thunk sounds out as Hop dumps his bags onto the grass, and Gloria, unsurprisingly, takes charge quickly. She points between him and Victor. "One of you set up the tents, and one of you set up the campfire. I'll look around for a stream." She shakes her canteen as if to emphasise how empty it is, and Hop and Victor promptly hand their own over.

Hop immediately gets to work setting up the tents. The three of them have technically camped before, though it was literally just outside Hop's house. It was a fun night. Sonia taught Victor how to light a campfire, and then they told ghost stories late into the night. It obviously wasn't proper camping, but it does at least mean that he knows how to set up a tent.

He raises an eyebrow when Victor starts to help him instead of lighting the campfire, but he just shrugs. Less work for him, he supposes, since he won't be able to help much with the fire once they're done.

The tents aren't anything special, and Hop is sure they'll need warmer ones before they reach the snowy frontiers of the north, but he doesn't mind them for now. He's already proven he can sleep just fine in the middle of a Wooloo field, so he'll survive.

After ten minutes of work, Hop gives Victor a high five for a job well done and gives a smile and a wave towards Gloria, who is just now returning with full canteens for the three of them. A bit of excitement thrums in Hop's veins. This is about to be a night of real camping! They'll be able to stay up as late as they want, trading stories over a nice, warm campfire.

Once Victor actually lights it.

Hop is already salivating at the thought of dinner. He's barely eaten anything all day, and the butcher apparently told Gloria the meat she bought are very good quality cuts - a nice treat for themselves before they'll likely have to hunt their own food. However that's supposed to work.

A beat passes, then another. Hop looks to Victor, who looks to Gloria, who's already looking to Hop, and all three of them just blink, slowly coming to the realisation.

None of them know how to start a fire.

"I thought Sonia taught you!" Hop accuses, jabbing a finger towards Victor, who immediately balks.

"What? No she didn't," Victor says, and Hop can tell he's not confident in his words. He must have just not been listening.

Hop turns. "Glo. Gloria. Aglorable—"

"What."

"Tell me you know how to—"

"I don't," she says, crossing her arms and giving the impression that she feels like an overworked babysitter right now, which is bollocks because she doesn't know what she's doing either!

Hop groans. Did Sonia actually check if they know how to do anything before they left? That was her one job! But no, all she did was put the fear of the gods into him and gave him a knife for him to bloody... stab people with, apparently!

She's getting a right proper telling off in his first letter to her, mark his words.

Hop lets out a small exhale. How hard can it be? It's just... rubbing some stick together, right?

After an hour of doing exactly that, Hop hasn't managed to even get a spark, and their camp is now completely cloaked in darkness.

"This sucks," Hop states plainly, throwing the sticks to the ground in frustration.

"At least it's not that cold," Victor says, which is true for now at least, but it's early September and Hop knows that the nights are going to get very cold, very quickly. And that's not even mentioning the fact that the final leg of their journey will likely be in the bloody snow.

His dream of eating perfectly charred meat while chatting with his friends around a comfortable fire is evaporating in front of his very eyes, replaced with the reality of eating bloody nuts in pitch black darkness. Nuts that aren't even roasted.

Hop takes a swig of his canteen, frowning because it tastes the exact same as the water back home, and he feels stupid for ever expecting otherwise. It's probably the same bloody stream.

They finish their paltry dinner and soon retire to their tents, since there isn't much point chatting when they can't see even two feet in front of them. When Hop curls up in his bedroll, he can't stop the frown from forming on his face.

A part of him feels like this is his fault.

Victor and Gloria are fighters. They're destined to be heroes, in Hop's mind, fancy weapons or not, and he's honoured to be on this journey with them. The least he can do in return is make the journey as comfortable as possible for them. He'll happily carry their stuff, he'll happily patch up any injuries they might sustain, and he'll happily pull any extra weight he has to in order to make up for the fact that they're going to be protecting him for the entire journey.

And yet, he's fallen at the first hurdle. He can blame Victor all he likes for not paying attention to Sonia's teachings, but it was ages ago and Hop should have figured out himself how to properly light a campfire before they left. He read all of those books back in Postwick, and he doesn't remember a bloody thing from them, and now they're already at risk of freezing and starving to death, something he considers his responsibility to deal with, because otherwise?

He's dead weight. A liability that's just going to slow them down, that will do nothing except get in the way of them achieving the greatness he knows they're capable of.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he wipes them away before they can fall. He needs to get himself together. They aren't going to starve just yet, and they'll be able to survive the temperatures just fine until Motostoke. Catastrophising won't help anything.

Sonia taught him that word once. She said that he has a bit of a tendency to do so sometimes, and while he's pretty sure she was just using a fancy word to call him a drama queen, it's not bad advice either. Spiralling won't do any of them any good. Sonia isn't here now, but he can at least remember her words.

Hop's eyelids feel heavy. No matter how many thoughts are swimming through his mind tonight, he's not going to be able to stay awake for long because all that walking has absolutely drained him. He closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep.

Breakfast the next morning is quiet. Hop eats his pieces of fruit slowly, doing his best to savour what little they have because they'll need to ration their supplies until they reach Motostoke. It'll be unpleasant for sure, but Hop does his best not to let negativity enter his mind.

His breakfast is still incredibly disappointing, though. The only thing he misses more than his mum right now, is her cooking.

They soon get back to walking, and conversation is thin. Gloria is walking on ahead, and whatever energy Victor had yesterday seems long gone. And while Hop is also moping, he still thinks he'll lose his mind if one of them doesn't start talking soon.

Hop focuses on the sights around him. They're starting to walk into actual woods now. It's nice that not every forest around here has been chopped down, he supposes. The temperature is actually comfortable, the smell of pine trees is pleasant, and the sight of a Skwovet scurrying up a tree successfully puts a smile on Hop's face.

A few hours pass, and they all start to perk up a bit. They begin to make idle conversation, and definitely do not talk about the fact that all three of them are wondering if they're actually up to the difficult journey ahead of them.

Hop doesn't notice how Gloria has stopped in front of him and bumps into her back. "Oi, what's the bloody hold up—"

The air gets knocked out of his lungs when he looks around her and spots what's blocking the road - a tall, black and yellow creature, head shaped like a bloody battleaxe and with tusks that look just as sharp.

"A Haxorus..." Hop ekes out breathlessly. The monster compendium was just about the only interesting book he found at the library, and when he saw the sketch of it, he promptly decided that he absolutely never wanted to meet one.

And yet here it stands, a spitting image of what he saw in the book, and it does not look happy to see them.

The creature roars, and charges.

"Behind me!" Gloria shouts, and plants her feet in front of Victor and Hop, raising her shield. Hop's eyes slam shut in anticipation, and the Haxorus slams into Gloria's shield. The impact releases a shockwave so powerful that it forces the Haxorus back and almost knocks Hop off of his feet.

Gloria's boots skid as she gets pushed back herself. She's still on her feet, but Hop knows, he knows that if her shield wasn't some ancient, magical artifact...

She would be dead.

Hop only manages to form a single conscious thought in the split-second the Haxorus's recoil gave them, and he grabs her shoulder.

"Run!"

Gloria thankfully obeys, having clearly come to the same conclusion herself that they are not capable of fighting this thing, and the three of them bolt off of the main road and into the trees.

Hop immediately feels off balance as his bags threaten to tip him over, the whole thing very evocative of his desperate scramble through Postwick, except the consequences of being too slow now are that he gets turned into paste.

The Haxorus's footsteps stomp behind them, and Hop's legs are screaming by the time they reach a cliff edge. The river roars far beneath them, and though they only pause for a second, it's more than enough time for the Haxorus to catch up. Hop swallows heavily.

No way out but forward.

"Jump!" He shouts, launching himself into the water below. When he lands, he thanks the gods that the river isn't so shallow that he just breaks his legs, and also that he at least sort of knows how to swim - well enough that he isn't sinking like a stone, at least.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Victor and Gloria have also made it safely into the water, and he looks up to see the Haxorus on the cliff edge, the miserable bastard looking almost tempted to go in after them before turning away, thank the bloody gods.

Hop uses his arms to try to stabilise himself, but the rapids are strong, pulling him forward. He attempts to grab onto anything - rocks, the bank, even Victor or Gloria in an attempt to keep them together, but it's no use. They're at the mercy of the rushing waters now, and the three of them are swiftly pulled downstream.

As he races down the river, Hop's thoughts drift to home. He thinks of the people he's left behind, his favourite spots that always made him feel safe, the quiet and comfortable days that already feel like a distant memory. He thinks of how the rushing waters only continue to drag him further, and further, and further away from his old life, as if destiny itself is propelling the water forward.

He crashes into a rock, and the impact instantly winds him. His desperate inhale sends river water pouring down his throat as his head falls below the surface. He splutters when he reemerges, desperately looking for purchase on the rock, but his fingers immediately slip on the slick surface, and his journey downstream continues. His panic rises as the rapids only seem to be getting faster and more violent.

He's long lost track of Victor and Gloria, has no idea if they've gotten ahead of him or if they've managed to get stuck on the same rocks he almost did. He can't see and he can't move and he can't breathe and—

Sharp pain shoots through Hop's arm as it scrapes against something harsh and jagged, and he can't stop the cry of pain that escapes his lips, muffled by the water that threatens to drown him. He begins to thrash because it hurts and every inhale just leads to him inhaling water instead of air. Each breath he tries to take proves futile as the water keeps pulling him under. The edges of his vision start to darken, his muscles begin to feel weak, and Hop feels his consciousness start to fade away.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, Hop sees something. He sees stars, and a massive explosion, the likes of which he's never seen before. He sees tendrils, he sees ash billowing through the air, and he sees darkness - darker than he ever thought possible.

The last thing his mind recognises before his consciousness fades to black completely is the night sky, streaked with purple, and with red.

A small groan escapes Hop's lips as he slowly feels himself come to. His fists instinctively clench, feeling tiny pebbles crunching between his fingers before realising that his face is also currently smooshed into said pebbles. He pushes himself up slightly, strange colours still dancing behind his eyelids as he takes a breath of air, actual honest to gods air. The sound of the river behind him is gentle, far calmer than the roar of before, and he slowly opens his eyes, squinting as he adjusts to the light of the late afternoon sun. He tries to pull himself up properly and—

He retches, and retches, and retches, throwing up more river water than he thought himself capable of even holding, as well as his meagre breakfast. Whatever strange visions he saw as he drowned slip from his mind completely as he takes a shuddering breath, attempting to stand but only making it up onto a single knee. His hands are shaking, and whether it's from the fright of the whole situation or if it's a side effect of swallowing what felt like his entire body weight in dirty water, he's not sure.

He clenches his fist, then lets out a pained whimper, eyes immediately darting to the cause of it. A nasty scratch runs along his entire forearm, still bleeding slightly. It's thankfully shallow, not the sort to leave a scar, but his breath hitches anyway because he's never been much of one to get injured, hasn't been hurt even this badly in his entire life.

He bites his lip, opting to ignore the sense of dread he feels at the sight of it to attempt to do whatever he can to patch it up. He opens his bag with trembling hands to look for some bandages and—

Of course. Everything is drenched. His extra changes of clothes, the book he packed last minute, and more importantly, the bandages are completely waterlogged, leaving them unusable. Fantastic. He's already blinking away tears when he realises another problem.

His bag. Singular.

His other bag is nowhere to be seen, surely lost somewhere downstream, and all of the paper Sonia gave him was washed away with it. Hop's chest tightens, a deep scowl forming on his face because it's just his luck, just his bloody luck that he'd end up losing his only real connection to Postwick before he can even take advantage of it.

A feeling of despair grips Hop's heart because all of the sudden, he feels a million miles from home.

At least the sketchbook survived, thanks to the enchantment. Small victories, Hop supposes, though the thought doesn't make him feel any better in the slightest.

The soggy bandages fall to the floor with a wet splat. He doesn't know if they're salvageable, and right now he doesn't especially care. His lip curls, and he pounds the sand once in frustration. What are they doing? It's only been a day since they left Wedgehurst and they're in dire straits already and...

Hop jolts, because Victor and Gloria aren't here, aren't anywhere, he realises as he looks around. He completely lost track of them not long after they jumped into the river. They might have washed ashore further upstream, continued further downstream or—

Or they could be dead. Drowned, or torn apart by the rocks that nearly did the same to him.

Hop retches again, but there's nothing for him to vomit up anymore. He bites down hard on his lip, taking a few stuttering breaths through his nose. The thought of the two of them dying because of a chain of events he set into motion by going into the Slumbering Weald is unbearable.

He forces himself to stand, unable to keep still for a second longer. He has to go looking for them, has to find them even though he doesn't know where to go or what to do or if he can even manage a few steps without collapsing because they must be alive. If he managed to survive, so did they. They're strong and he's... not. So they have to be okay.

Everything will be okay. He just has to believe it will be.

Hop takes a few more breaths, steadier now. He has to be strong, more than ever before because his friends might need his help. His gut tells him to go downstream, so he begins to walk along the riverbank and does his best to dispel the gruesome images of his friends' potential deaths from his mind. With each step he takes, the adrenaline that had still been pumping through his veins when he woke up begins to slow.

And he realises his arm really hurts.

He looks at it again, barely able to handle seeing the blood. He knows it's not good, that such a big, exposed wound is ripe for infection, even if it's not that deep. He forces himself to stop, still-trembling hands opening his bag as he looks for one of the few things not ruined by the river.

The rubbing alcohol sloshes in its bottle. He doesn't know much about infections, but he knows that there isn't much worse you can do with an open wound than let potentially unsafe water get into it.

His fingers hesitantly wrap around the cork because he knows this is going to hurt. He doesn't even have something to dab it on with. He grits his teeth, then pulls the cork and pours the bottle's contents directly over the wound—

Searing, white hot pain takes over every fibre of his being. The bottle slips from his fingers, and he brings his hand up to cover his mouth to muffle his scream because it hurts, it hurts more than he could have ever imagined. He bites down hard onto his hand, whimpering quietly as the pain slowly starts to subside, leaving an unpleasant stinging sensation behind.

Wincing at the still gnarly sight of the wound, Hop does his best to wipe off the excess alcohol with his still-wet sleeves. He's no doctor, but even he knows this isn't exactly the right way of doing things, but it's not as if he has much of a choice. The bottle lies on its side, most of its contents having spilt onto the ground. What a waste.

He puts what's left back into his bag, and gets back to walking, doing his best to ignore the fact that his head is spinning and that he wants to throw up again and that there's a very real chance he's not going to ever find his friends again and that he's just probably going to get mauled by some monster or wild animal before the sun rises tomorrow.

Hop doesn't know how long he's been walking for when he hears voices, and they're definitely neither Victor's nor Gloria's. He starts to take slow, careful steps, trying to move as stealthily as he can on the approach. Though, based on how much of a racket the voices are making, he's not sure if it's even necessary.

"Right, then! What 'ave we got 'ere?" a man says loudly, and Hop jolts, eyes darting around until he realises it's not him they must have seen. He continues forward, pushing past a bush, peering around a tree and—

Victor and Gloria are on the ground, washed up on a shore not dissimilar to the one he woke up on himself. What is different, though, is that they aren't moving.

Two figures stand nearby - a burly-looking woman and an even burlier-looking man clad in full black attire, except for a vibrant pink on the man's rolled-up sleeves.

The Sword and Shield lie further up the shore, and the woman attempts to pick up the Shield. "Cor, blimey, it's heavy!" She grunts as she fails to lift it, and instead chooses to attempt to drag it along, which is only slightly more successful.

Hop just watches, frozen, as the man picks up the Sword, clearly struggling to handle it despite all the strength he surely holds. Hop's eyes flick to Victor and Gloria. They look undisturbed, so it doesn't look like the strangers have hurt them, but...

"Proper fancy armaments, these!" the man says loudly as he checks the blade, doing his best to pretend he isn't severely struggling to lift it. He looks over to the twins, who remain unmoving. "Well, finders keepers, eh?"

Hop's fists clench, and he swallows heavily. He can't allow the twins' weapons to be stolen from them, right in front of his very eyes. He couldn't live with himself. He has to do something, but he's not sure what he possibly can do when both of the strangers look like they could crush his skull in with their bare hands.

Still, his feet bring him forward, and he steps out from the brush, knife in hand. "G-get away from them!" he shouts, and the man drops the Sword onto his foot out of fright, letting out a pained squawk.

"Oi, who's the kid?" the woman says casually as the man hops on a single leg, foot in hand. Despite their intimidating physiques, Hop doesn't get the impression that they're the most competent bunch.

"Who bloody cares? Grab 'im!"

Hop's breath hitches, and he raises his knife. Incompetent or not, one punch from either of them would probably send him all the way back to the treeline. He braces for impact, but before either of the strangers can make any real move, the woman is knocked off her feet, Gloria having charged her from the side. Gloria scrambles for the Shield, grabbing it and holding it out in front of her, entering the defensive stance Hop has seen countless times by now in her spars with Victor.

It dawns on Hop that she must have woken up a while ago to have gotten onto her feet so quickly, that she must have just been biding her time and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Seems she's far more clever than he is, since he just charged in with a knife he doesn't know how to use.

The woman quickly recovers, now back on her feet, and both of them pull out heavy-looking clubs. "Easy there, girlie," the man growls. "Put it down an' we won't hurt ya."

Gloria's eyes dart between the two, but she holds her ground. "I'd like to see you try," she says, and although Hop is sure she's never fought while outnumbered before, he sees a confidence in her eyes, confidence that she could take them both on without breaking a sweat. Whether she's just that secure in her own abilities or if it's a part of the Shield's power, Hop isn't sure.

The standoff continues as the two strangers refuse to back down, and Hop's throat feels increasingly dry because he's feeling more and more sure he's about to see blood get spilt when—

"What the bloody hell are you two doing?"

All four of them turn to the new voice, spotting a girl who had managed to get awful close somehow without any of them noticing. She wears similar clothes to the two strangers, except for a black skirt and tights instead of trousers. She's short, and looks no older than Hop is, but he's immediately taken in by her commanding presence.

Upon seeing her, the two strangers instantly freeze up. "M-miss Marnie!" the man squeaks out, the sound completely unbecoming of his stature. "We were just robbing— err, procuring valuable items from these- these..."

"Kids?" the girl, Marnie, finishes for him, and he immediately shrinks under her piercing gaze. Hop resists the urge to argue that they're not kids, because the perception seems to be working in their favour right now. Her eyes drift to Hop, looking him up and down before refocusing on her underlings, clearly not considering him to be any sort of threat. "You know the rules. Nick from the rich. That's all."

The man and woman practically cower at Marnie's words. "But Miss Marnie!" the woman starts, and points towards the Sword, which still lies on the ground. "They must be rich if they—"

"Does he look rich to you?" Marnie nods towards Hop, and his arms come up to pathetically try to cover up his soaked, ripped, and ragged tunic which didn't even cost much in the first place.

Both the man and woman hang their heads, having evidently focused too much on the shiny weapons instead of their wielders. "Sorry, Miss Marnie. We didn't wanna hurt 'em or anythin'. Just got a bit spooked, that's all," the woman says as she sheathes her club, looking warily towards Gloria, who still looks ready for a fight.

Hop lets out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding as Gloria slowly begins to lower the Shield in response to the woman's words. Seems like there isn't going to be any blood spilt today. None that hasn't already, at least.

The man stretches his arms above his head, letting out a groan when his back cracks. "No 'ard feelings, eh?" he says, then freezes when he sees Marnie's displeased scowl. Seems like they're still in trouble.

"Bugger off back to camp. I'll deal with you two later," she says, and the two of them start to move. "And roll down your bastard sleeves," she adds, glaring towards the bright pink around the man's arms, which is only on the inside of his sleeves now that Hop is paying attention. "If we get caught 'cause of you, your 'ead is ending up on a pike."

The man sulks as he obeys. "Sorry again, Miss Marnie..." he says, and the two of them head into the forest with their tails between their legs. Hop almost feels a bit sorry for them, but their upcoming punishment can't be that bad if they're just pouting over it instead of... cowering in fear, or something. So she's probably joking about the whole 'putting people's heads on pikes' thing.

Hopefully she is, at least.

Marnie's eyes drift over the group, taking them in. Hop is sure they look a mess. Now that he's paying attention, Gloria doesn't actually look that stable on her feet, and Victor is only now managing to get up onto his feet at all. Hop winces as Victor falls back down to his knees and starts to throw up, and Gloria heads over to help him. Marnie's eyes eventually land on Hop, immediately focusing on his arm. "You're hurt," she states plainly.

The throbbing pain in Hop's arm intensifies at the reminder. "S'nothing," he mumbles quietly. He's not sure if they can trust her. She did make the others go away, but they were her people in the first place.

"Are you stupid? You need to bandage it," she says with a frown and looks over them again, clearly realising how pathetic they look right now, and then she sighs. She turns towards the treeline and motions for them to follow. "Come on. Camp's not far."

Hop hesitates, but... they definitely need her help. He's hurt, and the twins aren't doing very well themselves either.

Gloria clearly disagrees.

"We're not going anywhere," she says as she rubs Victor's shoulder, giving Marnie a distrustful glare. Marnie just stares back blankly in response, then shrugs.

"Suit yourself, but if he doesn't get bandaged up properly soon," she points towards Hop, "it's gonna fester."

Gloria's face pales, and Hop hangs his head. He doesn't want to be the reason that Gloria does something she doesn't feel comfortable doing, but he'd also like to maybe not lose his arm to an infection, if possible.

"Glo," Victor croaks out. "We've gotta."

Gloria's shoulders droop, and she nods. "Fine. But if there's any funny business..." She narrows her eyes dangerously towards Marnie, who just snorts and begins to walk away.

Hop hesitates, instead moving quickly towards Victor to help him up. His hands land on Victor's shoulders, checking him for any wounds before letting out a sigh of relief. "I thought..." he trails off, looking to Gloria as well. He thought he lost them both for a minute there.

Victor coughs into his elbow, but does his best to put on a brave smile. "Ain't dead yet," he says, but then he shudders heavily. They're all still soaked to the bone, and they desperately need to dry off and get warm. Hop grasps Victor's hand to help him up. When they reach the treeline, Marnie is waiting patiently, seemingly not minding the delay.

The camp isn't far. It makes sense that Marnie had managed to coincidentally just stumble upon them - they were only a couple minutes out. When it comes into view, Hop is surprised by the scale of it all. More tents than he can be bothered to count are dotted around the place, spread between two lit campfires. Several trees have been felled nearby, some of the wood having already been fashioned into spikes and stuck into defensive positions around the camp.

Hop curls in on himself slightly when he realises just how many people are here, but Marnie says something to them and they all vacate from one half of the camp, leaving one of the fires free. Giving them space, Hop supposes, which is a surprisingly nice gesture for people who he thought were going to club their heads in just ten minutes ago.

He makes eye contact with the woman from before, and she gives him a wave and a warm smile. Hop tries to return it, but he thinks he only manages a grimace. Who are these people...?

Marnie provides each of them with a new set of clothes, which are terribly ill-fitting in Hop's case, but that's fine. It's only until his own spare set dries, and he's already placed them near the fire. He checks the jacket, the entire interior lined with the same vibrant pink found on the burly man's sleeves. It's... appealing in a sense, pinker than he's ever seen, but he's not sure he understands the point of hiding it all on the inside like this.

"Sit by the fire and I'll patch you up," Marnie says before heading into one of the tents, and Hop doesn't need to be told twice. She quickly comes back out, medical supplies in hand, and sits to his right. She immediately takes his arm and looks it over, her eyebrows raising almost imperceptibly. "You disinfected it already?" she asks, and Hop nods. "Good. Maybe you ain't a total lost cause," she says, which isn't a very nice way of wording it, in Hop's opinion. Still, she at least sounds a bit impressed.

The tiniest sigh of relief escapes Hop's lips when Marnie's hands don't reach for the evil, burning alcohol of death, and she opts to just clean it with water instead. Once she's done, she gets to bandaging, her hands clearly practised. Hop decides to hold in his questions as to why a girl around his age apparently has a posse of bloody... minions with her out in the wilderness, at least for now.

Marnie is a bit... intimidating, in Hop's opinion, even though she's obviously helping him. She must be a decent enough person, though. Decent enough to invite them into her camp, bandage him up, and offer the food and a place to sleep for the night.

He thinks she's offering those things, at least. It would be quite unpleasant if she bandages his arm and then sends them on their way into the wilderness on empty stomachs where they'll probably get mauled by... a bloody Haxorus, apparently.

He isn't entirely sure what the hell that was about. The book had said that while they're a very occasional problem in the north, it also said that they're so rare down south that they border on mythological, but evidently bloody not.

Marnie finishes her work, and the bandages sit uncomfortably on Hop's skin. A small price to pay to not lose his entire arm, he supposes. He clenches and unclenches his fist, and he thinks he can still use his arm at least. The sun has begun to set, and the camp is starting to get cloaked in darkness, the tall trees surrounding the place feeling a tiny bit suffocating, if Hop is being honest.

Gloria, ever impatient, immediately begins her interrogation from the opposite side of the campfire. "So... you're a bunch of bandits hiding in the woods," she accuses.

Marnie frowns, clearly offended at the notion. "If we were bandits, you wouldn't be sitting here, would you?" she says, and Gloria doesn't reply because it's obviously true. "We're just... people with some disagreements with the king, that's all."

Victor's eyes widen, having clearly finally perked up a bit. "You're rebels?! I didn't even know there were any rebels," he says, and Hop silently agrees. He's only heard of rebellions in stories.

Marnie snorts, thankfully not offended that they haven't heard of whatever movement she's supposedly a part of. "That's sort of the point, ain't it? At least for now," she says, and then she rolls up her sleeves, exposing the pink below. "Black and pink, the colours of Spikemuth," she says, and Hop understands why Marnie seemed so annoyed when the man wore the pink so openly now. If those colours in combination represent a rebel movement, he supposes it's probably best to keep it all under wraps a bit.

"Never heard of it," Gloria just says bluntly, and a bit rudely in Hop's opinion. Still, Victor nods in agreement, and Hop follows suit even though it's technically a fib because he has heard of Spikemuth, he just hasn't heard anything good. Never anything about an actual rebellion, though.

Marnie shrugs, unbothered by Gloria's attempts to put her off balance. "Where are you all from, then?"

Hop speaks up. "Postwick. South of Wedgehurst?" he says, and he catches the brief flicker of surprise in Marnie's eyes, before it's gone.

"Never heard of it," she says, a smirk on her lips and a glint in her eye as she echoes Gloria's words. "Ain't sure I know of anywhere further south than Wedgehurst."

"I'm sorry, are we just ignoring that she's a rebel?" Gloria hisses, and Hop shifts in place uncomfortably. Rebel or not, he doesn't especially want to get booted out of their camp, especially now that he's feeling the pleasant warmth of the campfire.

Marnie leans forward, but her face remains stony, looking to Gloria through the flames. "Watcha gonna do about it?" she says, and Gloria keeps quiet, crossing her arms with a huff. Hop isn't sure which of them would win in a fight, but he's not sure he wants to find out either.

Once she's convinced that Gloria isn't going to lunge for her, Marnie starts her own interrogation. "So... any of you want to tell me how the three of you ended up like a bunch of drowned Purrloins?"

Victor speaks up first. "A Ha-, a Haxa—"

"Haxorus," Gloria finishes. "Chased us into the river."

Marnie frowns at that. "On the main road?" she asks, and Hop nods in response. "Good to know. We'll keep an eye out," she says, and it makes Hop even more confident in his decision for them to run if Marnie and her entire gang would clearly rather avoid it altogether.

A brief silence stretches out, and Marnie's eyes turn calculating. "And why exactly are you two carrying a sword and shield that look like they belong in the Hammerlocke Vault?" she asks, and Hop gets the immediate impression that she already knows the answer.

Victor and Gloria both clearly pick up on the same thing, and Hop can see the silent conversation taking place between them. Marnie hasn't hurt them yet, and if she were planning to take the weapons, she'd have done so already, but it's still another big step to trust her with the truth.

Before they even have the chance to admit it, Marnie is already talking again. "Let's cut to the chase, yeah? You're those chosen heroes that nobody will shut up about, ain't you? And you're heading north to Wyndon to see the king because you have no idea what else to do?"

Hop squirms, stunned into silence a bit. Figuring out the first part was easy, maybe, especially since she's clearly heard the gossip. But the second part is something none of them have even admitted out loud yet, even if Hop knows they're all thinking it.

Gloria glares. "And what are you going to do about it?" she says, and the way Marnie's lips quirk into an almost imperceptible smirk tells Hop that she might just be starting to like Gloria's attitude.

Hop likes it too. He and Victor would probably be pushovers without her.

"Nothing much," Marnie admits, then leans forward slightly. "Except I want to make a deal."

Victor frowns slightly. "We're not giving you—"

"I don't want your stupid weapons."

"And we're not fighting for your rebellion either," Gloria says.

"Can you let me bloody finish?" Marnie says, shaking her head incredulously. "You three get me into Wyndon, and I'll make sure you actually get there alive. Because let's be honest, you lot are all going to end up dead before you reach Motostoke at this rate."

Hop grimaces. The words are brutally honest, but... she's not wrong. Their tents are in tatters, they're already low on food, and they don't know the first thing about surviving in the wilderness. Marnie, on the other hand, is apparently competent enough that she's running an entire gang out here. Even Gloria isn't immediately shutting the idea down.

"So, what, you want to travel with us? Bring your merry men with you?" Gloria nods to the other campfire, which looks a bit cramped with so many people huddling around it for warmth.

"Just me. They're staying here," Marnie says, and Gloria sighs, looking like she's about to give in when her gaze hardens.

"You have a deal, but only if you tell us why you want into Wyndon," she says. Hop bites his tongue, choosing to trust her judgement, but it's a risky move. They definitely need Marnie's help, but he's also not sure he especially likes the very real possibility that they'll be escorting some... royal assassin through Wyndon's gates either.

The atmosphere immediately turns icy as Marnie's eyes bore into Gloria, who continues to hold her ground. Hop is starting to think that the gamble has failed, that they're about to be kicked out of the camp or worse, when—

"Fine."

Hop does his best not to let out an audible sigh of relief as Marnie shifts in place, the slightest bit of discomfort on her face. "I'm looking for my brother. He went to Wyndon, but nobody has heard from him in months."

Hop's eyes widen. "My brother is in Wyndon too!" he exclaims, before faltering slightly. "We... also haven't heard from him in a while." He swallows nervously. It might be best to not talk about Lee too much, at least for now, given that his position as... Head Knight of Galar or whatever his official position is means he's definitely on Marnie's shit-list.

Marnie flinches slightly at his outburst, but then she just hums. "Suppose we have some common ground, then," she says, looking back to Gloria, whose eyes have softened slightly.

"Fine. Unless there are any objections?" She looks to Hop and Victor, who shake their heads in response. "Then we have a deal. As long as you don't plan on... murdering the king or anything."

Marnie shrugs again, but the movement is just a bit more tense than before. "I ain't an assassin, but I also ain't making any promises if Piers ends up being hurt, or..." Her expression darkens as she trails off, the implication clear.

Hop isn't sure what he'd do if he found out such a terrible thing had happened to Lee. He can't even begin to imagine the person he'd become.

Gloria lets out a huff but doesn't argue because it's probably the best they're going to get, and a silence stretches out.

Hop eventually realises that Marnie is glaring at them expectantly. "Well? Are any of you gonna tell me your bloody names? It's starting to get rude."

Hop splutters, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Had they not...? He supposes they must have forgotten. "I'm Hop. That's Victor." He points, and Victor gives a small wave. "And that's Glo. Er, Gloria."

Gloria nods towards Marnie, and it seems like an attempt at a truce of sorts. If they're going to be around each other for the next... however long it's going to be, there's no point in them being enemies. Marnie gives her own nod in return before turning and focusing entirely on Hop.

"Hop? The fuck kind of name is that?"

Hop rubs his eyes sleepily. Although his previous desires for flame-seared meat and stories told around a campfire are now within his grasp, he doesn't find himself able to muster up much enthusiasm for it. It's been such an exhausting day, and the only thing he wants to do now is sleep.

He puts on his spare set of clothes, now thankfully dry after an hour next to the fire. As knackered as he is, he still needed to wash himself in the nearest stream, and decidedly not the actual river because that's undoubtedly tainted for him after today's experiences.

He walks towards the tent he and Victor have been assigned, since none of theirs survived their little adventure in the river, when Marnie grabs his sleeve. When he turns, she's sporting a similar calculating expression as the one she held when she was questioning them earlier.

"What's your deal?" she asks, and Hop has no idea how to parse that question.

"What's my... deal?"

Marnie's glare only intensifies. "Why are you following those two around? They're the ones with the fancy weapons, not you. So what's your deal?" she asks again, and Hop chews the inside of his cheek.

What is his deal?

He's no fighter, and he knows he won't be written about in any history books, knows that he doesn't have that much to contribute, but...

"They're... they're my friends. I go where they go," he says, and while a part of him wishes he had a more responsible, heroic reason for it, it's the truth. He just doesn't want to be left behind. Not again.

Marnie's brows knit, and she lets go of his sleeve. "I hope the three of you realise what you're getting into," she says, and she continues upon seeing Hop's confused expression. "Lots of powerful people are gonna want to get their hands on those things. And their wielders. Wherever they go, trouble will follow."

Hop swallows, wringing his hands nervously. "I don't... I don't know much about any of that. But I told you, they're my friends. And I plan to follow them to the very end," he says, and it's the truth. For better or worse, they're together now.

Marnie's eyebrows raise slightly, then she tilts her head, as if seeing him in a new light. "You're interesting, you know that?" is all she says, then walks away, leaving Hop to wonder what on earth that's supposed to mean.

He enters the tent and practically collapses onto his bedroll, one of the very few things that did survive their debacle in the river. Victor lies to his side, already asleep, which is fine because Hop has nothing left in him either. He runs his hands over his cheeks.

Today was... rough. Incredibly rough. So rough, that a part of him is tempted to run back home and cry into his mum's arms and apologise for whatever delusions led him here, but he meant the words he said to Marnie. If Victor and Gloria are going to soldier on, then so will he.

Wherever they go, trouble will follow.

Hop bites his lip. He can't even begin to imagine what malevolent forces Marnie is even referring to, and he deeply hopes he never has to find out. He doesn't want to think about the things some people would do to get their hands on the power that seems to still lie dormant within the Sword and Shield.

A puzzle piece slots into place in Hop's mind. Until now, he's been wondering why they're even going on this journey, why they're travelling alone all the way to Wyndon, why nobody would just tell them why they just have to go.

It was never about their destination, he realises. Not primarily, at least. It's to make sure they're out of Postwick.

Because wherever they go, trouble will follow.

A soft sigh escapes Hop's lips as he slips off his shoes, allowing his feet to dip into the gentle water below. The sound of the stream is soothing, the Rookidee are singing, and he allows his eyes to drift closed for a bit.

Things have been easier over the last few days, now that Marnie is here to guide them. Far better than that first night they spent cold and hungry, at least. He tries not to dwell too much on how much trouble they would probably be in if they didn't manage to stumble across her. Maybe he'll thank that Haxorus for driving them into that river where he scratched up his arm and nearly drowned, if he ever gets the chance. They would've likely never found Marnie otherwise.

Yeah, maybe not. What an utter bastard that thing was.

What's handy is that Marnie is very insistent on actually teaching them to look after themselves. Something about how she 'didn't sign up to babysit a bunch of lazy sods all the way to Wyndon', even though Hop is pretty sure that's exactly what she signed up to do. He doesn't mind, though. He likes being helpful. He thinks Marnie is always close to losing her mind every time she catches Victor not paying any attention, though.

Gloria keeps joking that they could just ditch Marnie at this point, now that they're competent enough on their own to probably not die out here, but he feels like Marnie would hunt them down and kick their collective teeth in if they did. Besides, they made their promise, and Hop intends to keep it.

He hums to himself softly, appreciating the downtime. Marnie says they'll be reaching Motostoke relatively early tomorrow, so they've set up camp early tonight. No point in wearing themselves out when they're going to get there tomorrow either way. He's happy for the break because he's quite possibly done more walking in the last few days than in his entire life, and that's only to Motostoke. He doesn't even want to ask how long it'll take to reach Wyndon, because he knows the answer will make him feel a bit sick.

It's peaceful here, Hop thinks. It's nice to be able to properly relax for once, since they have all night to properly prepare camp. They've already set up the basics at the top of a grassy hill nearby. It might not have been the best place for it, but the views from it are pretty, and that takes the most priority in Hop's mind.

He lets a small, relaxed breath. He might just have a nap here, at least until he's needed.

That's what he plans to do, at least, until—

SPLASH

"You're too slow," Marnie says flatly as Victor whines, water dripping down his chin from how he just accidentally splashed himself.

"I'm sorry, but I still feel like you're pulling my leg," Victor says with a scowl and a pair of crossed arms. "There's no way you can just grab a bloody fish out of a stream."

Hop huffs. So much for peace and quiet.

"I ain't pulling your leg, you're just crap at it," Marnie says, and if Hop is being honest, she's not really the best teacher in the world. Sonia is far more patient and understanding. Though, then again, she sent them off into the wilderness without checking if they know how to not die out here, so Marnie has something on her, at least.

Victor scowls, and Hop feels a bit bad for him because it does look like he's actually listening for once, but then Victor gets that determined glint in his eye, the one that tells Hop that it's only a matter of time until he gets it right. Hop smiles softly to himself and closes his eyes again, doing his best to tune them out. Victor will get there eventually.

He needs to get some paper to write a letter back home once they reach Motostoke, since all the supplies Sonia gifted him got washed away with one of his bags. He could just rip a page out of his sketchbook, but that feels like a sacred item at this point, for documenting their adventure only. It'll be pricey, and he doesn't have terribly much money left already, but there's no world where he doesn't write home the first chance he gets. He misses everyone so much already.

His fingers begin to tap on the ground out of excitement because Sonia surely sent a letter ahead to Motostoke. He's excited to hear what she has to say, what Mum has to say, and if Sonia has found out anything about the Sword and Shield.

Hop jolts when another splash sounds out.

"Yes! Got it!" Victor puffs up his chest proudly, wiggling fish in hand. He grins towards Hop. "See? Told you I could do it," he says, and Hop doesn't have the heart to tell him that he definitely did not say such a thing, so he just gives him a thumbs-up instead. Whatever helps him sleep at night.

Marnie just crosses her arms, looking at Victor expectantly. "Well...?"

Victor tilts his head in confusion. "Well, what?"

Marnie frowns. "You have to bloody kill it so we can cook it and eat it."

Victor's face immediately pales, as if he'd forgotten that important tidbit. "You're joking," he says, balking further when he sees that she's definitely not. "I don't want to—" he cuts himself off with a huff, looking down to the fish and pursing his lips as it continues to squirm. He takes a few breaths, and then—

"I don't want to," he says suddenly, and tries to hand the fish over to Marnie.

"Are you thick?" Marnie says with a deep scowl, pushing Victor's hand away. "You realise that every bit of meat and fish you've ever eaten had to die first, don't you?"

"I'm aware!" Victor says, his pitch rising. "I just never thought about it that much, and I don't want to do it, so you do it." He tries to hand the fish to Marnie again, to no avail.

"You realise you're supposed to be a hero, right?" Marnie says, and Victor freezes. "A real hero is gonna have to kill someone eventually. An actual person. If you can't even put a knife into a bloody fish, I dunno about your chances in the real world."

The silence afterwards is deafening. Victor just stands there, mouth agape. Then, he scowls and drops the fish back into the stream before storming off. Marnie snorts incredulously, shaking her head as he leaves, and Hop wraps his arms around himself, watching the fish scurry away.

"You didn't need to be so harsh with him..." he says quietly. He doesn't think he'd have been able to do it either, but he doesn't really want to join Victor in getting on Marnie's bad side.

"Am I wrong?" Marnie asks bluntly, and Hop starts to chew his lip. Is she wrong? He hopes she is. Just because Victor is hesitant to take a life doesn't mean he doesn't have what it takes to be a hero. Even if it's just a fish we're talking about.

Hop just lets out an exhale out of his nose, his mood dampened, and the peaceful atmosphere completely shattered. He removes his feet from the stream and curls into himself slightly, waiting for his feet to dry before he can put his shoes back on.

Marnie huffs. "All I'm saying is, if he hesitates like that in a real fight, he's dead. Simple as that. If he starts worrying about morality and crap while there's a knife to his throat..." She runs a fingernail across her neck to emphasise her point. "That's it."

Hop grimaces. "He wouldn't let them get that close," he murmurs, but he knows it's a weak argument, and based on the fact that Marnie doesn't even deign it with a reply, she knows as well. He looks in the direction Victor went, vaguely towards camp. Should he go after him? He's not sure if he's ever seen Victor so upset.

He looks to Marnie, fingers twitching nervously. There's something he needs to know. "Have you ever... y'know..."

"Killed someone?" she finishes for him, and Hop flinches just hearing it. Marnie's eyes drift to the stream as she takes a seat next to him, and Hop thinks she's about to say yes, plenty, when— "No. Not... not a person. Animals and monsters and stuff, obviously, but..." she says, and Hop nods, suppressing a sigh of relief. He's... glad, if he's being honest. He's not sure if that's a lesson he wants her to teach them.

"Then..." he trails off, hesitating briefly before getting his resolve. "You must realise that it's not the same, yeah?" he says, and Marnie scowls.

"'Course it ain't the same, but if he can't even kill a—"

"Are you prepared for it?" Hop says, voice raising. "Are you one hundred percent sure that you'd kill someone without hesitation if you had to?" Hop says, voice trembling as his anger builds. "Judging him for not killing fish is one thing, but it's not fair to judge him for not wanting to ever... ever kill anyone. It doesn't make him weak, it makes him strong, if anything." He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. "He and Glo are supposed to be heroes, and a hero should do what they can to not kill. If-, if they can avoid it..." he trails off quietly. Marnie just stares, and Hop wilts under her gaze. He didn't mean to get so upset, so riled up. "S-sorry, I—"

"No. Don't apologise," Marnie says quietly. "Maybe... maybe you're right. Weren't right of me to be so hard on him." She plays with her knife in her right hand, looking it over, as if pondering Hop's question. "Suppose I ain't sure that I wouldn't hesitate. Not sure I agree that it's a strength and not a weakness, but I'll admit I was being a hypocrite." Her fingers trace shapes into the dirt. "I'll apologise to him later."

Hop nods. They can agree to disagree for now, but he's glad she understands that she was being unkind. He can't imagine the pressure the twins must be under, even if neither of them have said anything about it yet. He lets out a heavy exhale. "Sorry I got so—"

"Oi, I said don't apologise. I appreciate the kick up the arse. Team Yell would never, so... thank you," Marnie says, and Hop just hums. Team Yell must be her little gang from before. They did plenty of yelling, so he supposes the name is fitting. He'd ask about them, but if he's being honest, he's still feeling a bit frazzled from what just happened.

"I'm gonna go check on him," Hop says, and Marnie nods. He stands, and starts to walk back to camp.

He runs a hand through his hair as he walks. That was... pretty bad. He thought Vic and Glo's arguing could get bad at times, but neither of them ever go for the jugular quite like that, even though he does think that Marnie genuinely regrets what she said.

He hopes Victor hasn't gone too far on his own. Who knows what's lurking out here? He just... has a strange feeling, walking through these woods. Maybe it's just lingering anxiety from their encounter with the Haxorus.

Once he ascends the hill, he spots Gloria sitting in front of the campfire, looking lost in thought, until she spots him. "What's going on?" she immediately asks once he approaches. "Vic just blanked me when we went by."

Hop purses his lips. "Just a bit of an argument between him and Marnie," he says, choosing to leave out the part where she may have given Victor a bit of an existential crisis. His attempt at downplaying the situation clearly fails when Gloria scowls deeply. "Look, she's already apologised! Or, she's going to when she gets the chance, just... please don't fight her or anything, yeah?"

Gloria narrows her eyes, but her shoulders slowly relax. "Fine..." she mutters, before looking over to the open part of camp. "He went down the hill. If you want to talk to him," she says, which Hop interprets as 'please go talk to him, I'm rubbish at it,' which she sort of is, no offence to her. Hop nods and then heads to the more open part of the hill. He probably hasn't gone too far, at least.

Once he reaches the crest of the hill, he looks around. The forest surrounding them is filled with trees he'd never seen until recently, different from the ones around Postwick and Wedgehurst. He always thought a tree was a tree, but he's already seen at least three new varieties. It's interesting how the world past Wedgehurst is so similar, yet different in so many different ways.

He spots Victor sat halfway down the grassy hill, looking off into the distance. A few Bunnelby scurry around at the bottom, best left undisturbed. It's a breathtaking view, in Hop's opinion, but he doubts that's why Victor is here.

He hesitantly walks down the hill, plopping himself to Victor's left. Victor turns his face away, and they sit in silence for a few moments. Hop doesn't like this. Victor has always been so open about his emotions, with him at least. He doesn't like how Victor has seemed to have just... shut down.

Hop clears his throat. "She's... wrong, you know. I told her off a bit and she said she'll apologise to you later, and—"

"I don't care."

Hop flinches at the harshness of the words, but Victor quickly turns, guilt already clear on his face. "Sorry... didn't mean it like that," he just says, before turning away again. Hop bites his lip, then turns away too, nervously tugging out tufts of grass because his fingers need to be doing something.

After a long while, Victor finally speaks up again. "She's right. I'm not prepared for any of this. To be... a hero, or whatever. Not when it means..." He swallows heavily.

"It doesn't need to mean that," Hop says quietly, and Victor just lets out a heavy exhale from his nose in response.

"It might, though. I'm not carrying around some fancy, magical sword for nothing," he says, his finger running along the flat side of the blade. "Gonna need to use it eventually, and you saw how things got when I was just fighting with Glo."

Hop swallows as he thinks back to that moment. It scared him, when they had what was supposed to be a spar in the field near their house. It's like he couldn't recognise them anymore once they got into it. Hop's eyes wander to the Sword as Victor continues to idly run his fingers along it. It's far different from one of Lee's old wooden training swords, its lethality abundantly clear even at a glance.

"I dunno why it picked me," Victor continues. "Surely it could have just... rejected me or something, since I'm too scared to even use it," he says, bitterness lacing his every word.

Hop presses his lips together. It is a bit of a dilemma, but... maybe things aren't so simple.

"Maybe that's the point," Hop says quietly. "Maybe the sword doesn't want someone who'll... cut down bloody armies single-handedly." His words increase in volume, emboldened by his logic. "If you ask me, you're perfect for it. You're... you're kind and heroic and I know you'll do everything you can to do what's right, and maybe... the Sword will let you do that. On your own terms."

Hop hopes his words are true, because frankly, both the Sword and the Shield terrify him. They're strange and alien in a way that makes him uncomfortable, but... if anyone is to wield them, Hop has full confidence that Victor and Gloria are the correct ones to do so. He just doesn't want Victor to turn into someone he's not, all because of expectations of what a hero should be.

Victor is fine as he is, Hop thinks.

Victor's mouth hangs open briefly, and then he closes it. He runs a hand through his hair. "Maybe..." he says, a small, hesitant smile landing on his face. Then, he laughs. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" he says, and Hop squawks.

"Oi, excuse me! I say all that and you call me ridiculous?" he says, and Victor laughs.

"You know how I get when you start spouting nice stuff about me!" he says, bringing a hand up to cover his reddening cheeks. He turns away again. "S'not a bad thing," he says quietly, and takes a deep breath. "Thanks, Hop. Got a bit spooked, there."

Hop huffs, but an affectionate smile lands on his face. "Don't hesitate to talk to us, yeah? It is scary, what's happened in the last week. I thought I'd be a Wooloo farmer my entire life, and now we're..." he trails off. He still doesn't really know what they're doing. "Either way... just make sure you talk to me or Glo if you get spooked again," he finishes with a jab of a finger into Victor's shoulder, because he has a feeling that this has been bubbling beneath the surface ever since they left Postwick.

Victor just blows a raspberry. "Nah, I'm good. Real heroes don't freak out about stuff," he says, puffing himself up briefly, but quickly deflates upon seeing Hop's chastising expression. "Fine, fine... I'll try not to bottle it up, blah, blah, blah," he says, and he does at least seem like he's genuinely cheered up a bit.

"You'd better," Hop chides, then his lip quirks into a mischievous smirk. "You are really cool, though. Marnie doesn't know what she's talking about. You're super considerate, and funny, and my best mate, and—"

"Cut it out, cut it out!" Victor squeaks, one hand covering his face and the other trying to bat Hop away as he tries to go in for the hug. Eventually, he relents and allows the contact, leaning into the embrace with a heavy exhale. "Thank you. You're my best mate, too."

Hop grins at him when they part. "Anytime," he says, eyebrows raising when he realises Victor is giving him a weird look. "What is it?"

Victor shakes his head. "Nothing, just..." His lips quirk upward. "You said you told Marnie off after I left?"

Hop splutters. "Well, just a bit. She was quite nasty to you and it upset me, and— what's so bloody funny?" he says as Victor giggles.

"Nothing! Just wish I saw it, that's all. Think we've all ended up under her thumb a bit, so it's cool that you stuck up to her for me, that's all," he says, and Hop huffs.

"She's not that bad. Just think she's a bit different to us, that's all." Definitely still a bit mean, though, even if he doesn't think she means to be. He stands, and holds out a hand to help Victor up. "You coming back to camp?"

Victor hesitates, looking back to the view as if deciding whether or not to stay, and then nods, allowing Hop to pull him up. They're quiet as they climb the hill, and once they reach the top, they're greeted by Gloria's worried-looking frown.

"You alright?" she asks, worry clear in her expression as she looks to Victor. She briefly starts to put out her arms as if going in for a hug before lowering them again.

Victor closes the gap for her, and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about me, sis! I'm fine," he says with a grin that thankfully seems genuine, and Gloria lets out a small sigh of relief.

"Good. Now come tell me what all this is even about so I can decide whether or not to knock Marnie out for whatever she said," she says, and Victor lets out a strangled sound.

"Not necessary! We'll work it out," he says, then falters in the face of Gloria's reemerging scowl. "Look, I'll tell you about it in a bit. Just... no fighting, yeah?" he says, and Gloria huffs.

"Fine. No fighting," she says, and Hop gets the feeling that it's a very hesitant promise. The two siblings take a seat by the fire, and Hop yawns. He's pretty tired, even though it's not quite dark yet. It will be soon, though.

He looks towards the treeline. Marnie still isn't back yet. He knows she can handle herself, but... he still doesn't like the idea of her being out there after dark. He turns back to the twins. "I'm gonna go check on Marnie, okay?" he says, and receives two nods in return.

He begins to walk through the trees, back to where they were earlier. He's not entirely sure why he's bothering, because it's Marnie we're talking about, but there's a feeling he can't shake. He first felt it on his way to find Victor, but there's a buzzing in the back of his mind that just won't go away, that has only increased in its intensity now that he's alone again.

He lets out an exhale. It's fine. He's fussing over nothing.

It's colder tonight, Hop realises. Seems like the final dregs of September's warmth are starting to whither away. A rotten shame, if he's being honest. He misses summer already.

The feeling returns, and Hop takes a stuttering breath because something is wrong. His chest tightens as he looks around, unable to escape the feeling that he's being watched. It's suddenly deathly quiet, he notices. He can no longer hear the birds, can no longer feel the chilly breeze, and—

He's suddenly thrust into darkness, the pitch-black of night surrounding him.

His eyes dart around. It's not possible. It was getting late in the evening, yes, but there's no way the sun could have gone down that fast. Did he... pass out? He feels like he would remember waking up afterwards if he did, but...

It isn't completely dark, he suddenly realises. Everything is bathed in a purple glow. He gasps when he looks up, seeing the night sky that's become an explosion of colour. The stars glow brighter than he's ever seen them, piercing through the streaks of red, and purple, and yellow, and green that splatter across the night sky.

It would maybe be beautiful, in different circumstances. But all he can think about now is that it's just wrong.

"Hello...?" he calls out, unsure if he even wants an answer. After receiving no reply, he starts to walk, taking quiet tentative steps. The trees surrounding him have been stripped of their leaves. The few patches of grass in this part of the woods are gone, replaced by nothing but dirt, and whatever pleasant smells that once wafted through the forest air have long since dissipated.

If... if he can find Marnie, maybe she'll know what's happening. She has to be out here somewhere, right...?

Hop reaches the stream, and Marnie is nowhere to be found. The stream has completely dried up, and Hop crouches down within it, running a hand through the dirt below. It's practically dust. Even if the stream had suddenly dried up today, there would still be moisture in the mud below.

It's just not possible.

This has to be a dream, it just has to be, but he's never felt anything so vivid, so real. He pinches himself, harder and harder until he can't handle it anymore, but it does nothing to wake him from whatever horrid nightmare this must be.

"What's happening...?" he mutters under his breath, as if speaking aloud would somehow give him an answer his brain can't provide him. He considers turning back, heading back to the camp, until he looks across to the other side of the stream. It's... brighter over there.

He hesitates, because something tells him that he doesn't want to know, that he should just walk away, but he's always been curious. It's always been a weakness of his, as much as he wishes it was a strength.

He keeps walking until he reaches a cliff edge, one that definitely wasn't there before. The sense of utter dread he's been feeling ever since this started only intensifies, reaching its peak when he sees it.

He looks out over the landscape in front of him, which he can only describe as completely and utterly shattered. Vast chasms stretch out, like scratch marks from an unfathomably large creature, and in the distance...

Nothing.

He isn't sure why he's so confident, how he just seems to know, but it's the only word he can find for it. Just pure, utter nothingness, indescribable in any other way.

Hop's mouth turns to ash, and he falls to his knees. He wants to go home, to Postwick, or at least get back to his friends, back to the real world instead of whatever this is. His breath quickens, doing his best not to allow his mind to wander to the possibility that this is the real world, that it's all over and everything has been for nothing and—

He falls.

He doesn't know if it's because of his own incompetence or if some unseen force dragged him in, but it doesn't matter now. He plummets down into the void below, unable to even scream as he falls, and falls, and falls.

Wind whips past Hop's face, and then his vision blurs, and warps. He's no longer falling. Instead, it's like he's been suspended mid-air. He's swallowed completely by darkness. Not the red and purple tinted kind from before, just pure black.

He feels trapped, stuck in a cage even though he can't see any walls, can't see anything at all. A tightness starts to build inside him, as if his own ribs are suffocating his internal organs, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing. He screams, but the heavy air immediately fills his lungs, and it feels like he's drowning. Arms, or tendrils, or something wrap around him, pulling him deeper and deeper, and he thrashes and thrashes, but he can't move, and they won't let go of him, and there's nothing here, there's nothing left, there's nothing—!

He gasps, vision suddenly filled with light, and his arm shoots out to try to scratch desperately at whatever it is that's touching him. The wind is immediately knocked out of his lungs when a fist makes contact with his stomach.

"Oi, get a bloody grip, will you?"

Hop takes a desperate inhale, only faintly recognising the voice. His eyes start to adjust, and it's... dark, but not as dark as before. Through the gaps in the leaves above, he can see the dark orange tint of the sky.

Nothing is trying to kill him. Everything is as it should be.

Hop takes a few more shallow inhales, realising that he's pinned down, though Marnie's thumb rubs soothing motions into his shoulder, a clearly worried expression on her face, even though she's clearly trying to temper it.

And he exhales.

Marnie exhales with him. "You alright? Thought you'd gone crazy for a second there," she says. Hop brings a hand to his cheek, still not entirely sure if this is real. He takes a few more breaths and lifts himself up to a sitting position.

Is he crazy? Sane people don't pass out and hallucinate about... whatever that was.

Marnie pointedly ignores his unsure silence and gives out a hand to help him up. "You gonna tell me why you were passed out on your back in the middle of nowhere? Or why you tried to scratch my eyes out the second I touched you?" She's trying to sound annoyed, but Hop catches how her voice wavers. She's clearly freaked out, which makes sense because he's acting like a lunatic right now.

"I... I don't really know," Hop answers honestly. He runs a hand over the back of his head, looking for a bump or something that could maybe explain what happened, but finds nothing of the sort. "Must have passed out, I suppose. And had a weird dream while I was out."

It didn't feel like a dream, but it didn't necessarily feel entirely real either. It obviously wasn't real, unless the entire world managed to die and come back to life in the last ten minutes and only he noticed.

Marnie's brows furrow, surely because of his lacklustre explanation. She grabs him by the arm and pulls him up. "Come on, if you feel alright on your feet," she says, and motions for Hop to follow her towards the stream. Seems he hadn't made it that far in the real world.

Hop nods even though he still feels shaky on his feet, and follows her further downhill. When they reach the stream, it's exactly as he remembers it, and relief floods his mind. The sound of water is soothing, grounding, a lifeline after everything he saw. He lets out another shaky breath. This is real. Whatever stupid stuff his evidently hyperactive imagination conjured up earlier obviously wasn't.

Once he's sat once again on the bank, Marnie gets to business. "Tell me about it. The dream. It'll make you feel better," she says, and Hop huffs. He's not sure he wants to relive it, but...

"I was here. In the forest, I mean, but... everything was dead. Every plant, every animal, and everything had just been... destroyed," he says quietly. "Then I fell off of a cliff and woke up and then tried to scratch your eyes out. Sorry."

"Think I'll actually accept that apology this time," Marnie says, and Hop's shoulders droop. He'd like to think he isn't the type to lash out like a startled animal when he's scared, but he's already proven otherwise. "And sorry for punching you in the stomach," she adds.

Hop's hand immediately drifts to the offending spot. He can't say he's surprised, but Marnie can pack a right wallop when she needs to. "S'fine. Weren't acting like myself," he says quietly.

Marnie hums, and her eyes turn calculating as she looks Hop over. "You've been drinking plenty of water?" she asks, and Hop nods. She sighs. "Maybe you're coming down with something," she says, then her eyebrows raise. "Let me see your arm. Might've gotten infected after all."

Hop instantly winces. That'd be bad. That'd be very bad. It looked fine yesterday, though, so it'd be surprising if it suddenly happened now. He hesitantly allows Marnie to take his arm, because not checking it isn't an option. Marnie gets to work undoing his bandages, and...

His arm looks fine. Good, even. Surprisingly good for the fact that it hasn't been that long since the injury, having visibly healed since even yesterday. Hop lets out a sigh of relief.

Marnie doesn't look placated. If anything, her brows have furrowed even more. "S'weird. Would've expected you to need another week before it heals this much," she says, putting the fresh bandages back into her bag.

"You're not gonna bandage it?" Hop asks, and Marnie shakes her head.

"Nah, would be a waste. It's closed up nicely, so you'll be as good as new soon. And it ain't infected, so that's good," she says, and Hop heaves a heavy sigh of relief. "Unless you've got some weird shite going on under your skin," she decides to add for some reason, and Hop's face pales. Is that a thing? Whether it is or isn't, Marnie's bedside manner could definitely use some work.

Hop does his best to put that thought out of his mind, but it just brings him back to the dream. Something about it feels... familiar, but he can't put his finger on what it could be.

They sit in silence once again, and Hop squirms under Marnie's scrutinising gaze. Ever since they met, he's felt her eyes on him, and him specifically, and he has no idea why. Always analysing, as if she's waiting for him to slip up somehow.

Maybe it's because you seem like you have about fifty screws loose.

Hop huffs. He swears he's not a lunatic. He's perfectly sane and definitely not the sort to get weird visions out of nowhere like that.

"We should... we should go back to camp," he says quietly, standing up to get himself out of this situation. He doesn't understand Marnie. She seems kind, but he can't help but feel that she distrusts him.

He begins to walk, before hesitating and turning back around. "Don't... tell them what happened. They'll probably freak out," he says, and Marnie immediately scowls in a way that means she clearly thinks that's a terrible idea.

"Feels like there's plenty reason for them to freak out. It ain't normal to pass out like that out of nowhere," she says, and Hop sighs before putting on his practised grin.

"Look, it's fine! I feel alright now and there's no point worrying when it probably won't happen again," he says, hoping very much that it does not happen again because he'd rather not see any more weird hypothetical apocalypses when he's just trying to live his life, thank you very much. Marnie glares, but seemingly relents.

"Fine. But if it happens again, I'm telling them the truth," she warns, and Hop puts his hands out in surrender. It's not that he isn't worried, he just... doesn't want to slow them down. And if he keeps collapsing like that, Vic and Glo will probably march him home themselves.

He can't have that. The last thing he's willing to do is become a liability.

When they reach the camp, Marnie pulls Victor aside for their chat. It'll be terribly awkward, Hop is sure, but they'll both be able to handle it. He sits next to the fire, and his eyelids immediately droop.

"You okay...?" Gloria asks, bumping shoulders with his as she sits to his side. Hop's face immediately cracks, but he does his best to fix it, and then hums.

"Fine... Tired, that's all," he says quietly. He's still a bit shaken, but he doesn't need people to fuss over him. There are more important things to worry about.

Gloria gives him a look as if she doesn't entirely believe him, but she seems to let it go. Gloria's good at reading his mind, but he doubts she'd ever be able to predict what just happened back there.

"Motostoke tomorrow, then," Gloria says leadingly, and Hop perks up at that.

"What do you think it'll be like?" Hop says, appreciating the distraction as a bit of excitement seeps into his tone. "Sonia always said that it's much bigger than Wedgehurst, bigger still than what I'm probably imagining in my head."

Gloria snorts. "You know how she is. It's hard to tell how much of what she says is true or just her talking about her adventures like it's a bedtime story," she says, and Hop huffs because she's definitely right about that. He lets out a heavy yawn, and rubs at his eyes. Gloria tilts her head. "Go to bed. You're obviously tired."

Hop hums. He wanted to at least stay up at least until Vic and Marnie have sorted things out, but he's not sure if he can hold out much longer. "Alright... g'night, Glo."

"Night, Hop," Gloria says, and Hop takes his leave. He heads into his tent, but... he doesn't go to sleep quite yet. He doesn't know why, but he can't help himself. He wants to forget what he saw, banish it from his mind, but...

His hand drifts into his bag, retrieving his sketchbook. He's filled out some pages already, between small scribbled notes about his observations, and sketches of trees and flowers and creatures he'd never seen before. His fingers clasp the pen, and he gets to work, the images he saw in that nightmare somehow clearer now in his mind than even when he was experiencing them.

The lines are rushed, messy, and it isn't until he's finished that he sees it, something he hadn't even fully absorbed in the moment. Something massive, high in the sky, looming over everything, with an exposed ribcage, a long, winding tail, and claws capable of rending entire settlements apart.

Hop takes in a sharp intake of air. His hand shoots forward, fingers clawing at the paper to try to rip the page out, but it doesn't budge, the enchantment holding strong. He could pull harder, but... he falters.

It wasn't real.

He takes a few steady breaths, doing his best to ignore the now familiar sensation of dread bubbling in his gut. It was just a strange, bad dream. He's seventeen for gods' sakes. He shouldn't let himself get scared by something that isn't even real, something that he drew with his own hand.

He slams the sketchbook shut. Now that it's been given form, he can allow it to leave his mind, and he'll happily never, ever think about whatever that thing is supposed to be ever again.

Hop rubs his eyes sleepily as he packs his bag. He can feel Marnie's eyes boring into the back of his head, but he ignores her. She's probably still displeased at him for keeping what happened yesterday a secret, but she'll get over it.

"Are you sure you've got everything?" Gloria asks to Victor, who huffs.

"Yes, mum," he says, but still begins to rummage through his bag, clearly not as sure as he sounds.

Gloria ignores the comment, and continues. "Filled up your canteen?" she asks, and Victor shakes his clearly full canteen without looking up. "Make sure you don't forget the Sword."

"Glo—" Victor pauses in his rummaging to pinch his nose. "I'm not gonna forget the Sword," he says flatly, and Gloria shrugs.

"You never know with you," she says, poking Victor's cheek before getting swatted away.

Hop tunes them out, his hand landing on his sketchbook, thumb brushing against the leather cover. He can't stop himself from opening it and turning to the page, to the drawing he made last night.

It's not so scary anymore. Just a strange delusion created by his mind. He's had a decent night's sleep, he's had breakfast, and the whole thing feels far away now, the details fuzzy. He must not have been looking after himself properly and got a bit confused, that's all.

He snickers into his palm as he looks over the page. It all seems a bit stupid now, remembering how much of a tizzy he was in.

A hand taps on Hop's shoulder, and he jolts. "You ready?" Gloria asks, shield in hand, and Hop nods with a grin, putting yesterday to the back of his mind.

It doesn't take long for them to reach the edge of the forest they've been in for the last few days, and once they do, Motostoke stands in the distance, clear as day. Hop gasps softly at the sight of it. Large walls surround the whole city, and massive, towering chimneys loom over all of the buildings below, pumping out smoke into the sky above.

"Cor, look at all that! It's bloody massive!" Hop says, giddy with excitement. Sonia was right, it's far bigger than he'd even imagined!

"Don't get your hopes up," Marnie says from his side. "It's a bit of a shithole, really."

Hop rolls his eyes, but there's no real annoyance in it. "Still never seen anything quite like it," he says, and Marnie shrugs.

"Oh, it definitely ain't like anywhere else. You don't need to worry about that," she says, and Hop ignores her. She's just trying to ruin his fun. "Lake Axewell is pretty, at least," she eventually adds, and Hop definitely can't disagree with that. Sunlight reflects across its surface, a few boats are paddling across it, and small villages sit along its shore.

Gloria turns her head to look back at them. "Let's quit dilly-dallying, yeah? Still got a bit to go," she says, and Hop gives an over-dramatic salute before putting on a show of marching along the road like a soldier, Victor swiftly following suit as they both snicker together at how Gloria is surely rolling her eyes into the back of her skull over their antics.

The sun is high in the sky when they reach Motostoke itself, and Hop is wobbly on his feet once they're in its streets, overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities surrounding him. It's just so busy here. He's never seen this many people at the same time in his entire life! There must be more people in this street alone than the entire population of Postwick. And bloody Wedgehurst while we're at it.

Shops line the road on each side, stretching for as far as he can see, with even more stalls filling the street itself, and Hop knows he's truly experiencing a city in every sense of the word. He's already salivating at the thought of the hypothetical shopping spree he could go on here.

Victor breaks into a coughing fit behind him, startling Hop from his thoughts. When he turns, he sees how Victor's eyes are watering, and how he's covering the lower half of his face with his sleeve, reminding Hop of Motostoke's other defining characteristics.

It smells absolutely rancid here.

This is coming from someone who has spent most of life shovelling Wooloo dung as well! No amount of exposure to that could have possibly prepared him for this. Hop's eyes drift up, and up, and up to the offending chimneys towering above. They looked cool when they were in the distance, but now that he's at the base of them, inhaling the toxic fumes they're pumping out, he can't find much appreciation for them at all.

"Oi," Marnie starts, and Hop turns to face her, the slightest bit of a teasing expression on her face over his discomfort. "I've got business to do, so you three are on your own for a bit," she says. Hop wants to argue that she's not their babysitter, but... she sort of is, so he doesn't.

Gloria sneers. "Got some assassinations that need to be done before midday?" she drawls, and Hop winces because it seems like they're about to start arguing again. Marnie seems unbothered, at least for now, and checks her nails.

"Mmhm. Got at least three targets that need to be in the gutters by the end of today. Rebel business, see," Marnie says, and Hop makes a strangled sound. Can they even joke about that sort of thing without risking getting thrown into jail?

Gloria snorts. "At least three? You sound more like a common thug than an assassin to me," she says, and Marnie's lip curls into a tiny smile.

"Less of a difference than you might think," she says, and Gloria rolls her eyes, clearly at least a bit amused by it all.

Huh. Seems like those two are actually starting to get along. In a very strange way, maybe, but it's better than nothing. Hop isn't sure he finds the whole thing very funny himself, though, given that Marnie is technically an actual bloody fugitive, but he's not about to be the one to spoil their fun. Marnie gives them a small wave goodbye and begins to walk away, quickly slipping into an alleyway.

Victor squirms in place. "She was joking, right?" he says, and Gloria groans.

Hop feels rooted in place when he returns to taking in the sights surrounding him, torn between so many opportunities. He could get new clothes, try some new foods, he has to find some sort of trinket here when he gets the chance, and oh gods, what if there's a magic shop? He doesn't even know what that means but if it exists, he has to find one.

He takes a deep breath, and raises his hands to give his cheeks a couple of light taps to ground himself. Post office. If Sonia sent a letter ahead, which she hopefully did, it'll be waiting for him there.

Priorities, Hop. You can get the knickknacks later.

"Split up and meet here in an hour?" he says to the twins, and receives two nods in response. They say their goodbyes, and Hop walks with purpose in his step.

Or rather, he does, until he realises that he has no idea where he's going.

It takes a few attempts, but he eventually manages to get some decent directions from someone running a stall. He feels bad about not buying anything, not allowing himself to even look at what they're selling lest he get too tempted. He has some money left, but the important stuff comes first.

He's not sure why, but he finds himself nervous talking to people here. Off-balance. The sheer amount of strangers is a bit overwhelming, if he's being honest. Even in Wedgehurst, he'd at least know some of the shopkeepers there.

The post office is empty when he enters, barring a woman behind the counter, who greets him warmly. He beams when she hands over a letter addressed to him, bouncing on his heels in anticipation.

He does his best not to fall to the floor and weep when he sees how much even a single piece of paper costs. How did Sonia even manage to get so much in the first place? She's going to kill him if she finds out that he managed to lose all of it.

His heart clenches as he seriously considers the possibility of not sending a letter home. His boots are in bloody tatters, and he's not sure if he can handle much more walking without a new pair, and it's going to need to be one or the other.

Suddenly, he gets the, in his opinion, absolutely bloody genius idea to just write his reply to Sonia on the back of her letter. He's resourceful like that, see. Mood significantly improved, he practically skips over to a small, waist-height wall outside the post office. He sits down and immediately tears into the envelope with fervour, yanking out the letter and beginning to read.

Dear Hoppip,

Hop groans. Not a great start. He hopes this entire letter isn't just spent making fun of him.

Long time, no see, huh? Well, I suppose you can't really see me so maybe it's long time, no talk, is it too late for me to start this letter again? Yes, it is! Because I gave all of my paper to you!

Hop winces. So much for that. He just has to hope she doesn't turn the paper over and start to connect the dots when she reads his eventual reply.

So! Things have been quiet back home since you've been gone. From what I hear, the second you left, the party died down and everything went back to normal in sleepy Postwick. Maybe that's for the best, eh?

Your mum says she misses you deeply already. She promises she's not trying to guilt-trip you, she just misses being able to smooch you on the cheek every morning. Which makes sense, because so do I!

Hop gags. Smooches on his cheek are for his mum, and his mum only. Sonia can get stuffed.

I just want to say that we're all proud of you. You and the twins. You're all really brave for heading away from home on such short notice, even if you had to claw your way into the gang. I hope things have been smooth on the road for you!

Things most definitely have not been smooth on the road, no thanks to her utterly lax teachings, but he's over it. He's complained enough in the notes he's made in his sketchbook, so the worst of it is out of his system.

His cheeks heat up at the idea of her being proud of him, though.

As for the Sword and Shield... don't be too upset with me, but I haven't found much on it at all since you left. Nothing helpful, at least. I know, I know, how could good old Sonia have possibly failed to dig up some useful info? But cut me some slack, because I do have something for you.

I've got an old friend in Motostoke who might be able to help you. No promises, though! He's a bit of an eccentric, but I'm sure you'll handle him just fine.

Don't worry about finding him, because he'll find you!

Lots and lots of love and hugs and kisses,

Sonia

Hop huffs. The sentiment has hit close enough to his heart that he's willing to forgive her ominous ramblings.

He misses Postwick, misses his home. It's been quite the culture shock being on this journey after spending over seventeen years of his life sleeping in the same house every single night. Things are getting easier, but he still longs for his mum and his Wooloo and his comfy bed once his head hits the bedroll.

His cheeks flush even more as he looks around, checking to make sure that nobody is watching before hugging the letter against his chest. As much as he enjoys ribbing Sonia, the letter is deeply important to him.

He folds the letter up neatly and places it into his bag, making sure that it's somewhere safe where it won't get crumpled. Then he stands, taking a deep breath as he looks back down Motostoke's main street.

It's time for some shopping.

It's a whole lot of window shopping, if he's being honest. He doesn't feel comfortable spending a penny until he gets a pair of boots, and it's looking to be a tougher task than he'd thought.

An especially vivid splash of colour, or rather, many splashes of colour, catches Hop's eye. He approaches the shop's window, smiling softly to himself as he looks over the strange clothes behind the glass. He's seen some nice fabrics in Wedgehurst before, but never seen them fashioned into actual outfits like this.

His feet bring him inside before he can stop himself, utterly enamoured. He's like a Pidove, always attracted to shiny things and bright colours, apparently. He might be able to get some decent boots here, though, and thankfully, at least some of the things here seem more functional than they are fashionable, so he'll check over there first.

He's still going to at least take a look at the fashionable side afterwards, though. As a treat.

Immediately distracted, he begins to run a thumb over the outside of a blue, cosy-looking jacket that's jam-packed with Wooloo wool, when a flicker of movement between the racks catches his eye.

And that's when Hop sees him.

A figure is browsing some cloaks, then seemingly turns his nose up at them. He wears a sleek, white coat with frilly purple accents, and a pointy, ever-so-slightly crooked hat sits upon his head. Hop gasps softly, because he knows exactly what it is that's in front of him.

He's looking at a mage.

Hop brings up a hand to cover his mouth, starstruck at the sight. He's never seen a mage before, but he's seen the drawings, could recognise one of those hats from a mile away, and it leaves no doubt in his mind. He tries to psych himself up enough to approach, countless possible questions flying through his mind. What sort of magic can he do? How does it all work? How does he look so put-together even though he looks no older than—

"Can I help you?"

Hop lets out a squeak because oh, bollocks, he must have been staring. The mage is already scowling deeply at him, clearly expecting some sort of answer or an apology, but—

"Are you a mage?" Hop stage-whispers, far too curious to let this opportunity pass by, even if they seem to already be getting off on the wrong foot.

The mage's shoulders tense even harder, and he gets a dangerous look in his eyes. "And what of it?" he says, and Hop, with apparently very little survival instincts, practically squeals.

"Oh, gods, I've never met a mage before! You're all so cool!" he says, feet tapping excitedly against the floor. The mage flinches as if he's been struck and gives Hop an incredulous look, eyes narrowing as if he's double and triple checking if Hop is being serious or not.

"Yes, well..." The mage crosses his arms and raises his nose snootily, but there's the slightest waver in his voice as he seemingly begins to lower his guard a bit. "You should feel lucky to be in the presence of someone with capabilities such as mine."

A bit up his own arse, Hop thinks, but a part of him understands. If he had magic powers, maybe it would get to his head a bit as well. "What... what can you do?" he asks as he suppresses the urge to bounce in place, unsure if he'll even be able to handle the answer without combusting.

The mage gives him a look, then points to his bag. "Give me something from your backpack," he says. Hop's brows knit in confusion, but he obeys, slipping his bag from his shoulders and beginning to rummage inside it. He pulls out an apple, holding it out for the other boy to take. The mage looks pleased but makes no move to take it.

Hop gasps when the apple is suddenly pulled from his grip, beginning to float gently in the air, and it takes everything he has not to scream from joy and start singing the mage's praises, because it might just be the singular coolest thing he's ever seen in his entire life.

The mage preens upon seeing Hop's awestruck expression, and a genuine-looking smile lands on his face. He begins to spin the apple, increasing its speed, faster, and faster, and faster until it suddenly stops. The apple begins to float back towards Hop, who gently plucks it out of the air.

"That was amazing..." Hop says honestly, looking to the mage with a wide smile. "You're amazing. It must've taken you ages to get so good at that."

The mage's eyes widen. "Yes, well..." He coughs into his elbow. "Thank you. Most people think that mages don't need to put any effort into what they do, so... I appreciate it," he says, cheeks slightly red.

Hop waves him off. "S'alright, I bet it's just as much of a skill as anything else," he says, then grins. "I'm Hop!" He puts out a hand to shake, which the mage hesitantly takes.

"Bede..." the mage replies, quickly breaking free from the contact. "You don't seem like a local," he points out, and Hop snorts.

"Neither do you, mate, to be fair. I'm from a bit further south. Err, Wedgehurst?" he says, a bit sick of getting told by everyone he speaks to that they haven't heard of Postwick, so he's not bothering anymore.

"Hm. Never heard of it," Bede says with a sniff, and Hop does his best not to slam his face into a wall. How has he never heard of bloody Wedgehurst?

A slightly awkward silence settles between them because Hop isn't entirely sure what to say other than gushing even more about magic and mages and how cool they are, and Bede already doesn't seem the sort to say much. Hop's fingers begin to rub against the jacket that caught his eye earlier.

Bede tilts his head. "You should buy it," he says, and Hop's eyes widen. "I think it'd suit you."

Hop winces. "Bit out of my price range, mate," he says, because it definitely is. A lot out of his price range, actually, which is a shame because it does look nice.

Bede appears to mull something over, and then speaks up. "Then I'll cover it. Consider it a thank you for not throwing any slurs my way," he says, already pulling it off the rack, and Hop chokes on air. "Don't bother arguing. I've been provided a sizable allowance, and I can spend it how I please."

Hop hangs his head as Bede takes the jacket to the counter. That's... unbelievably nice of him. He suddenly understands why Bede had looked like a cornered animal ready to slash at him when they first locked eyes, though. Do mages really still get treated so poorly?

Bede returns quickly, handing the jacket over with little fanfare. Hop tilts his head as he looks it over, running his fingers over the rough texture of its exterior. The inside is lined with so much wool that it'll probably keep him warm the entire way to Wyndon.

"You seem quite fascinated by it," Bede teases with a smirk, and it seems like the smugness is back already, if a lot less hostile. Hop sticks out his lower lip indignantly, and huffs.

"I've just never seen anything like it," he says, running his thumb over the outside material again. It seems tough, whatever it is.

"You've never seen denim before?" Bede asks incredulously, but relents with a sigh upon seeing Hop's defensive frown. "I suppose it is quite a new invention. It's tough. Should be able to withstand an animal bite if needs be."

It would be nice if it were Haxorus-proof as well, but that's probably a pipe dream on his part, so he just hums. "Err... thank you," he says lamely, having forgotten to actually thank the bloke for such a generous gift until now.

"Don't worry about it," Bede says flatly, and looks away. Hop puts his arms into the jacket and slips it over his shoulders, grinning because it's already the comfiest thing he's ever worn. "So... what's your business here?" Bede asks, and Hop resists the urge to snicker at how posh he sounds.

"My friends and I are off to Wyndon!" he says, doing his best to keep things vague this time. Bede is already good people in his eyes, but maybe there isn't much need to bring up any details of quests and scary old weapons. It's a shame that they'll likely part soon, possibly to never see each other again. It's a strange feeling after spending his life seeing the same people every day. "Any chance you're off that way?" he attempts quietly. Bede doesn't seem to be with anyone. Maybe he could come along?

Bede looks almost disappointed for a brief moment, but then turns up his nose. "I'm afraid not. I have business here, looking for—"

"Hop!"

Hop startles and spins around, spotting Victor in the doorway of the shop. "We were looking for you!" Victor says with a relieved-looking grin as he walks forward.

Gloria pops up from behind him and snorts. "So much for meeting up in an hour," she teases, and Hop wilts. He must have completely lost track of time.

"Sorry!" he says, genuinely apologetic. "Was looking for new shoes and I made a new friend!" He beams, but his smile quickly drops when he sees the deep, deep scowl on Bede's face. "Woah, are you—"

"I have places to be," Bede says, nudging Hop out of the way with his shoulder. He stomps towards the door, not even sparing the twins a glance as he pushes himself between them and immediately steps out onto the street.

"Oi, wait—" is all Hop manages to say before it's too late. He tries to make chase, but by the time he's out of the shop, Bede is nowhere to be seen.

Hop's shoulders droop. What was that about?

"What was his problem?" Gloria immediately asks from behind him, and when Hop turns, he sees the wary expression on her face. "Was he giving you trouble?"

"No, No!" Hop immediately insists, then his shoulders slump. "We were just chatting a bit. He seemed nice," he says weakly. Why would Bede storm off like that? He feels terrible because he must have upset him somehow.

Victor gives Hop a sideways glance. "Didn't seem very nice on his way out. Nearly knocked me off my bloody feet, he did," he says with a pout.

Hop grimaces. That definitely wasn't very nice on Bede's part, but... "No, he really was nice... for a bit there, at least. He even bought this really expensive jacket for me," he says, putting out his arms for the twins to see.

Gloria tilts her head as she looks him over. "It looks nice," she says, then gives Hop an apologetic-looking smile. "Sorry that we scared him off."

Hop sighs. "S'fine. Wasn't your fault," he says, but he can't hide the disappointment in his tone. Maybe Bede isn't very good with people and got overwhelmed? It's all a real shame because he really enjoyed their brief time together. He lets out a small exhale as they get back onto the street proper. They had to part eventually, he supposes, but he does wish that it had been on better terms.

After a quick check to see if Marnie is here, he comes up short. She must still be busy. He's about to ask the twins what they're going to do next when some movement catches his attention. When he turns, he sees a guard pointing at them.

Hop's breath hitches. Are they in trouble? They haven't done anything, but why else would the guards approach them? Is Marnie in trouble? Oh gods, what if—

"Is your name Hop?"

Hop squeaks, putting out his hands defensively in front of him and taking a step back. "Y-yeah... that's me," he says warily, and the twins are already creating a protective formation around him.

He's touched, really, but they seem a bit too ready for a fight with the entire Motostoke guard right now for his tastes.

One of the guards simply nods, seemingly unperturbed by the twins' threatening gesture. "The mayor of Motostoke would like to speak with the three of you," he says, eyes looking over the twins as well. Hop squirms. The mayor? What could the mayor possibly want with them?

"We're not in trouble, are we?" Gloria says warily, and Hop really doesn't think they are, so he would really appreciate it if she'd lower her bloody shield before they do get into trouble.

"You're not in trouble," the other guard insists. "We were just told to find a purple-headed kid called Hop and escort him and his companions to the Mayor's office."

Hop initially frowns, and it takes a lot for him to not start arguing with a defender of the law over his perceived maturity, but he just about manages to hold it in. Then, his eyes widen, only now realising how they'd approached him of all people, not the far more conspicuous twins. Sonia did say that her 'friend' would find them, so...

Hop clears his throat. "Then... let's go, yeah?" he says, looking to the twins, who have thankfully lowered their weapons, and receives a pair of nods in response.

The guards escort them along the main street, eventually leading them to what must be Motostoke's government building. It's very tall, and Hop hesitates as he looks up, up, and up, because they're going all the way up there? He's never thought himself afraid of heights, but he's also never come close to being as high up as that.

Both Gloria and Victor stroll into the building ahead of him, clearly unbothered, and Hop huffs. He's no coward. He'll survive as long as he—

Eugh, just don't think about it,

Hop quickly loses track of how many floors they've climbed as they make their way up the building's staircase, both because of the utter workout he's getting put through, and also because the number was starting to make him feel a bit sick. Once they reach the top, he's out of breath and wiping sweat off of his brow, and the guards open a set of double doors, revealing an office with a massive window along the back wall that gives an unobstructed view of the city surrounding them, a view he'd like to not pay even the slightest attention to, if possible.

"Ah! Come in, come in! I already have tea prepared ready for you."

Standing behind the desk in the centre is a very fit-looking old man. He jogs over to a table to the side, which holds a teapot and several teacups. "How many teaspoons of sugar would you all like?" he says, looking to the three of them expectantly.

Hop squirms. Sugar? A bit of honey in his tea is a rare treat in Postwick, but he doesn't really know much about—

"Four, please," Victor instantly says, and Hop chokes, sending him a disbelieving look. "What? Look how much he has!" Victor whispers, and when Hop looks to the table, there's a frankly obscene amount of sugar sitting in a bowl, the man already shovelling some of it into a teacup.

"Then... also four, please," Hop says hesitantly. May as well take advantage, he supposes. Gloria rolls her eyes at them, but still asks for two, so it seems like they're all feeling a bit extravagant today.

The man picks up a tray holding four cups of tea and jogs back to his desk, somehow without spilling a single drop, and places a teacup in front of each of the chairs.

Hop wonders if this guy jogs literally everywhere he goes. It'd explain why he looks so fit at least, though maybe having to climb that bloody staircase every day would turn anyone into an athlete.

"Sit, sit, I insist!" the man says enthusiastically, and the three of them take a seat in the provided chairs. The man sits on the opposite side of the desk, both hands clasped in front of his face. "Hmm... I feel as if I have forgotten something. What is it, what is it... Ah! I forgot to introduce myself." He stands and gives a quick bow before holding out a hand towards Hop for him to shake. "My name is Kabu."

"Hop..." he says warily, accepting the handshake. "That's Vic and—" He cuts himself off with an ugh. "Victor and Gloria," he finishes. The twins each give a small wave, and Kabu bows again.

With introductions out of the way, Kabu turns to the window behind him and takes a deep breath. "Such a magnificent view, no?" he says, his hand gesturing towards Motostoke below, warts and all.

"It would be nicer if the air wasn't trying to kill me?" Hop says. Maybe Kabu is taking constructive criticism for the state of his city.

Kabu, thankfully, seems completely unoffended. "Hmm... indeed. Quite unpleasant at times," he says, which is the understatement of the century in Hop's opinion, but maybe you get used to the smell after living here for a while. "They say that someday soon the mages will be able to make it so that our factories release steam instead of those... unpleasant gasses. It's only a matter of time!" Kabu brings his hands together, seeming almost giddy at the idea.

"Can it be today?" Hop attempts hopelessly. He can still taste the foul air from outside on his tongue.

Kabu just chuckles, an almost affectionate smile on his face when he turns back to face them. "You really are Sonia's little apprentice, aren't you?" he says, and Hop squirms because he's not quite sure what he means by that.

"You... know her, then?" he asks. He'd like to at least know Kabu's story before they start spilling everything about the Sword and Shield.

Kabu gives a firm nod. "She was quite the rascal when she first strolled into Motostoke. Around your age, I believe, and very much sneaking off into places she shouldn't be in," he says with a glint in his eye, and that definitely sounds like Sonia. "She had a certain spirit, and the boy she was with was very apologetic, so we chose to let her go."

Hop's seat scrapes against the floor as he shifts it forward. "That must have been my brother!" he says, and Kabu chuckles.

"Indeed. And now he's Champion of the Realm! Good intuition on my part not to lock them both up, if I do say so myself," he says, tapping his head proudly as if he's somehow the one responsible for Lee's success, and Hop uses his final bit of patience to let it slide.

Champion of the Realm... No wonder he forgot Lee's official title. It's a proper mouthful. He takes a sip of his tea, and immediately purses his lips. Too sweet. He didn't know that was even possible. Victor seems to be happily draining his own, though.

Kabu sits back at the desk. "I'm afraid I haven't kept as much contact with your brother as I have your mentor. We've kept quite close correspondence ever since she returned from Wyndon, all those years ago. I'm sure you've heard plenty about me," he says proudly.

"Err... not really? Don't think she's ever mentioned you, actually," Hop says. Victor immediately chokes on his tea, and Gloria gives him a glare.

What? She hasn't.

Kabu's entire demeanour droops, and Hop pouts internally because it's not his fault she never found him worth mentioning. "Ah, well, nevertheless... how is she these days?" Kabu asks.

Hop squirms in his seat, unsure how to answer a question like that on someone's behalf. "Fine," he says. "She's working in Wedgehurst with her nan now. She reckons it's awful boring, though."

Kabu nods languidly. "Hmm... far more interested in history, hm?" he says, and Hop's eyes widen. So he really does know Sonia. A part of him was suspicious that he was dealing with a bit of a fraud.

"She's..." Hop hesitates. They can trust him, right? Sonia obviously trusts him, has specifically said that he would help them. "She's been looking into their weapons." He nods towards Gloria and Victor, who look like they're only just now really tuning into the conversation, now that they're the subjects of it.

"Quite an alarming development, I must say," Kabu says, his expression turning far more serious than it was before. "I do not envy the position the two of you are in."

Victor shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but Gloria stares directly forward. "Do you know anything?" she asks pointedly, and Kabu sighs as he stands again, turning back to the window. A long, long silence stretches out, one that quickly begins to feel uncomfortable.

Eventually, Kabu speaks up. "I have been told to keep an eye out for two individuals carrying ancient, magical weapons," he begins, and Hop immediately gets the feeling that he isn't talking about Sonia. Kabu turns his head slightly to look back at them. "And to apprehend them, if possible."

The air instantly feels like it's been sucked from the room, and it remains utterly silent other than the almost imperceptible sound of Gloria tightening her grip on the Shield and the hammering of Hop's heart in his chest.

Kabu turns, and approaches his desk, opening one of the drawers and beginning to rummage inside it. "I am familiar with the myth of the original wielders of your weapons, but I am ashamed to say the details elude me. The shortcomings of an aging mind, I'm afraid." He unrolls a piece of parchment, and spreads it across the desk. A map...? "To the northwest, you will find the village of Turffield." Kabu gives them a firm nod. "I believe you will find answers there."

Hop holds his breath for a few more moments, waiting for the penny to drop, but it doesn't, and Kabu continues to fix them with a fiery, determined gaze. "You're... you're not going to arrest us?" Hop asks, and Kabu shakes his head.

"No," he replies simply. "I will play no part in schemes and subterfuge, no part in games played by those who desire power above all, and no part in allowing harm to come to you, simply because you were the ones to bond with such weapons."

All three of them let out heavy breaths. Why couldn't he have made that clear from the bloody get-go? Hop thought they were about to be thrown into prison or worse. Hop brings a hand to his forehead, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. "Thank you, but..." He shifts slightly. "This isn't just because you owe Sonia a favour or something, is it?"

Kabu laughs heartily at that, his graveness from before evaporating in an instant. "A favour?" he echoes, then laughs again. "If we are talking about that, young man, I'm afraid it is Sonia who is still in the business of owing favours," he says with a glint in his eye.

Hop snickers into his palm. That does sound more realistic. "Then... why help us? It sounds like you might get in trouble," he says, and Kabu sighs wearily, shoulders drooping.

"It may come as no surprise to you that I am not originally from this land," he says. "And yet, I have come to love Galar, love its people. I do not intend for its past mistakes to be repeated." His head tilts slightly as he looks to Hop. "Sonia and I are of quite the same mind on this subject. Much of this region's history was written in blood." He looks to the twins, specifically the weapons they hold. "Whether by coincidence or destiny, you are the wielders of those weapons. Perhaps you are what this region needs most in these tumultuous times."

Hop is stunned by the sheer conviction in Kabu's voice. Eccentric old man or not, it's abundantly clear that he has only the best of intentions.

Kabu takes a deep breath. "I told you I do not envy your positions. You will be pursued by those seeking the power of the Sword and Shield for their own ends." He straightens his posture, hands clasped firmly behind his back. "Stay strong in your convictions," he says with a nod. "What Galar needs now, more than anything, are heroes."

Gloria stands, shield in hand. "You said someone told you to find us," she states plainly, pointing a finger in his direction. "Give us a name. We deserve to know who it is that's after us."

Hop squirms in his seat. Whoever he is must be very powerful to have any sort of leverage over the mayor of Motostoke.

Kabu lets out a long, drawn-out hum. "A fair demand," he says, but clearly hesitates. He gives them a strange look, difficult to interpret, but what Hop thinks he sees most of all is pity.

"Rose. The man's name is Rose."

Gravel crunched softly under two pairs of boots as they ascended the tallest hill in Postwick. The path was dark, lit only by the gentle, silvery moonlight, and the night was otherwise silent until the pair reached the top, and a voice punched through the darkness.

"It's just so cool, Lee! Look at it all!"

Hop spun around on his toes, arms reaching upward to the sky as if trying to physically touch the countless stars twinkling above them, looking like a child showing off their favourite stuffed toy. "How are you not the least bit curious? There must be something up there," he insisted with a firm nod, pleased with his own logic.

Lee chuckled, and his hand came down to ruffle Hop's hair. Which was something Hop did not appreciate, but it had been so long since he last saw his older brother that he begrudgingly allowed it.

Today had been a busy day because, after countless excuse-filled letters, Lee had finally come home for the first time in ages. Hop spent the day leading Lee around Postwick, showing him the sights even though almost nothing had changed in all the months since Lee was there last. It took far longer than it probably should have, since Lee's ability to get lost on a straight road was unrivalled, but things were now finally coming to a close at the hill near their house, in the spot where Hop would end most of his own days, staring up, up, up to the sky above.

"Still got your eyes on the stars, huh, Hopscotch?" Lee said with another hearty chuckle, and while Hop doesn't think Lee meant for it to sound so demeaning, it definitely made him feel demeaned.

"Of course!" Hop said indignantly, making a point of crossing his arms and looking away. "I'm not gonna grow out of it like Mum keeps saying I will," he said, turning up his nose at the thought. It was a matter of principle by that point.

Lee just let out an amused snort over Hop's dramatics. "Nothing wrong with asking questions, Hop," he said, an easy grin on his face, and although Hop did appreciate the support, it was far from the first time he'd heard such words. People usually supported his questions and his inquisitive mind - until he asked a question that made them uncomfortable, one that they feared the answer to. That was when he would get told to stop worrying about it, to quit dreaming and to come back down to earth. It drove him insane.

Hop huffed at the thought, looking up to see a faraway look on his older brother's face, clearly distracted. More distracted than usual, at least. "Lee...?"

Lee's eyes suddenly widened, seemingly having been startled from his thoughts. "Sorry, kiddo... was just thinking about some stuff," he said, and Hop immediately scowled deeply in response, utterly unwilling to let such a vague answer slide. Lee grimaced, immediately folding, and ran a hand down his face.

"The Universe," he eventually said, voice gravely, and then cleared his throat. "That's... what they call it up in the capital," he added, hesitation lacing his every word, though Hop hadn't the foggiest idea why.

Hop was stunned for a brief moment because no one had ever even entertained his ramblings about the night sky, and now here Lee suddenly was with the first answer he'd ever received. "What, the- the..." he gestured upward, towards the sky above, too busy trying not to utterly explode in excitement to be able to form words. Lee scrunched up his face, as if to say not quite.

"Not the sky itself, more like... the stuff up there. Or what they believe is up there, at least," he said, and it was abundantly clear that he did not believe a word of it himself.

"The Universe..." Hop echoed. He'd definitely never heard that word before. "W-well... what's up there, then? Tell me!" he demanded, hands gripping onto Lee's coat threateningly, but all Lee did was laugh at his feeble attempt at intimidation.

"Sorry, Hop... it's all in one ear and out the other with me, you know that," he said with a smile that showed no shame whatsoever over the fact that he was an utter airhead. Hop caught the slightest shift in his eyes, though, and it was enough for him to be able to tell that Lee was still purposefully hiding something from him.

Hop looked to Lee expectantly, tilting his whole body in an attempt to force his older brother to meet his gaze. After a lot of squirming, Lee finally relented. "Look, Hop... I'm not going to stop you from being curious about things. It's admirable, really!" he said with an honest grin. "It's good that you don't just... accept things for how they are. Or how people say they are, at least. Galar could use more people like you."

Pride bloomed in Hop's chest. He wasn't sure if he deserved such praise just for being curious about things, for asking why things had to be the way they were, but Lee's words made him feel warm inside anyway.

It was all slightly dampened by the fact that Hop knew what was coming, that there was an inevitable 'but' racing towards him at record speed.

"But..." Lee said, right on cue, looking away into the trees. This was the first time Hop had felt like he could sense a weight on his older brother's shoulders, that something had changed within him in the time that he'd been away. "I think... you should let this one go, okay?"

"What...!" Hop immediately spoke up, almost offended at the notion. Any concern for his brother suddenly flew out the window. "You can't tell me that there's stuff up there-" he threw his hands upwards to the stars, "-and then tell me to just let it go in the same breath!" No matter how serious Lee seemed, Hop wanted to know. Because, unlike everyone else, he didn't fear the answers he might find.

Lee sighed heavily, and Hop could sense his growing frustration as he looked to the floor, his shoulders drooping. "I don't mean for you to stop wondering about..." He looked up to the sky, looking almost apprehensive at the mere sight of it. "How about... you form your own opinions, then," he said with a nod. "Don't bother yourself with what people in Wyndon think, yeah?"

Hop stuck out his lower lip, disappointed that Lee seemed to be doubling down on keeping him in the dark on this, but... he supposes he's right that he shouldn't especially care what some posh twats in Wyndon think.

That's what he heard Lee call them when he was talking to Mum earlier that day, anyway.

"What, they a bunch of weirdos, or something?" Hop asked bluntly, and Lee pulled a face that Hop interpreted as 'yeah, but that's not how I'm about to word it.'

"They're... a bit of a hassle," Lee admitted, then huffed. "They're a powerful bunch. With a bit more influence with the king than I'd like," he added, and Hop frowned.

"They're giving you trouble?" Hop said as he rolled up his sleeves, looking as if he was ready to march to Wyndon and beat them all up by himself.

Lee put out his hands soothingly, but it seemed Hop had at least managed to bring a smile back to his face. "Not... trouble. You know no one can really give your big bro trouble," he said, puffing out his chest. Which was sort of true in Hop's mind, but he also knew a deflection when he saw one. Hop prodded a finger into his brother's chest.

"Oi, give me a name. I'll curse him in my mind when I go to sleep tonight," he said, making a show of raising his nose in disdain. Gloria told him once that she would do that whenever someone annoyed her, that they would always get their comeuppance eventually. He was decently sure that Victor was her victim most of the time, though, and his comeuppance would usually be her trouncing him in their next spar. Hop wasn't superstitious, far from it, but this seemed like a perfect opportunity to give it a go.

Lee laughed warmly in response, though his smile quickly dropped. He appeared to mull it over for a few moments, and then...

"Rose," he eventually said. "Chairman Rose of Macro Cosmos, if you need the full title," he said with a wink, then brought a thoughtful finger to his chin. "I can give you his address and birthday if you need them?"

Hop snickered into his palm. "Don't think I'll need all that. His name should do."

"Good! Because I think I've forgotten!" Lee said, and flashed his signature grin. Hop just rolled his eyes. He'll curse this Rose bloke to hell and back in his dreams tonight. Maybe then he'll quit pestering Lee.

A sense of quiet spread between them, and Hop began to curl into himself because he knew things would be coming to a close soon. He took a step closer to his older brother and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into his chest. "When are you going back?" he asked, fully aware that he wouldn't like the answer. He'd been avoiding asking such a dreaded question all day.

Lee just sighed softly, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of Hop's head. "Tomorrow," he eventually replied, laughing airily when Hop let out a frustrated huff into his chest. "C'mon, I'll be back before you know it. You think I'm gonna leave my little bro behind?" he said, and Hop remained silent because yes, that's exactly what he thought every time. Every single time Lee left, he feared that it would be the last time he would bother to come back. He lived in Wyndon now. Why would he keep bothering to come all the way back home to Postwick?

But before Hop could fall too far into such thoughts, Lee's arms wrapped around him and lifted him up off of his feet and onto his shoulders and began to run down the hill towards home. Hop just let out an indignant squeak, hands gripping onto the top of his brother's head for dear life. "L-Lee...!" he shouted, because he was far too old for this, far too bloody big to be able to balance himself properly because he was sixteen years old for gods' sakes! He squawked indignantly when Lee rolled his shoulders and continued his speedy descent.

"If I don't ever come home, how am I gonna have fun with my little bro, eh?" Lee said, winking so hard that Hop could tell even from his shaky position. Hop wasn't sure if he would call what was happening fun in any sense of the word, especially as he stifled a scream in response to Lee picking up even more speed, but heat bloomed in his cheeks anyway.

Once they made it home, Lee made a point of carrying Hop up the stairs to his bedroom, the way he always used to when they were younger, when he would start to fall asleep downstairs. "I'm definitely too old for this..." Hop complained weakly. It was childish, but he always felt like a kid again whenever Lee was around, and he couldn't hide how his eyelids were already starting to droop.

Lee just grinned down at him. "You'll never be too old to get spoiled by your big bro," he said, before unceremoniously dumping him onto his bed.

Hop huffed, too tired to complain any more about the fact that he'd spent the last five minutes getting thrown around like a sack of spuds and just bundled himself up into his covers. "Night, Lee..." he said quietly, silently dreading the next morning, when Lee would have to leave.

And Lee hesitated in the doorway, his expression indecipherable due to the darkness of his room. A brief silence stretched out until Lee finally replied. "Night, Hopscotch," he said and then proceeded to shut the door behind him with a click.

With head now to pillow, Hop's eyes immediately fluttered shut, and he used the last of his energy to curse the bloke that somehow managed to get under Lee's skin.

And also to wonder who the bloody hell would name their kid 'Chairman.'

The next morning at the send-off party, Hop's spirits were low. Lee's visits had only gotten shorter over the years, his letters less and less frequent. And now here he was, leaving already after a single day because he was needed again in the capital so soon. It just wasn't fair. Galar wasn't at war or anything, so why the King's head knight was always so urgently needed, he simply couldn't understand.

Despite his turmoil, Hop put on a brave face, beaming as hard as he physically could as he waved goodbye with both arms. He locked eyes with Lee, who grinned back before turning away, beginning his journey north back to Wyndon.

And that was the last time Hop saw his older brother.

Nausea bubbles in Hop's gut, a deep frown on his face as he squirms uncomfortably in his seat. He's spent the last couple of hours at the desk in his and Victor's inn room, penning his reply to send back home to Postwick, but... he's been distracted replaying the events of that night over and over.

He just can't help it. Every time he thinks back to that night, desperately looking for clues in the expressions he barely remembers, in whatever subtext he can possibly glean from his older brother's words. He promised he'd come back, but they haven't even gotten a letter since then, and Hop can't help but feel that the blame lies solely with the man who has sprung up again so suddenly.

Rose.

Somehow, Hop had a feeling that name would come back to haunt him, knew even then that he must be an utter bastard because he could tell that the man had gotten under Lee's skin. Nothing bothers Lee. He always just grins in the face of adversity, and charges at it head-on. But that last night? He'd seemed lost, like his hands were tied, like he had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.

It just wasn't right.

Hop huffs, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He has to put such thoughts to rest, at least until tomorrow, because he must finish this letter soon. It's late by now, so late that his candle is starting to run out of wax. He scoots his chair forward, wincing at the noise it makes. He spins his head around and, sure enough, Victor is still quietly snoring away. He's not sure if anything can wake Victor once he's knocked out.

Other than physically jumping on him, as learned from experience.

Hop wishes he could just go to bed himself, but he wants the letter to be perfect before they move on tomorrow. Past Hop might be disappointed that they're moving on from Motostoke so quickly. Present Hop says good bloody riddance. He can't wait to get this place's smell out of his nostrils.

Kabu was generous enough to pay for them all to sleep at the Budew Drop Inn, supposedly the fanciest inn in all of Motostoke. It is, admittedly, very fancy, and the bed in their room is ridiculously comfy, calling to him like a Drifloon in the mist.

No sleep for him just yet, though, even as he finally signs off the candlelit letter. He looks it over, reading and rereading it to check for any errors because Sonia's the one who taught him how to read and write. She'll take it personally if he messes anything up.

Dear Sonia,

I got your letter! Obviously.

Things have been good. Really tiring and enough walking to make me feel like my legs are going to fall off, but it's been fun! We've had a bit of trouble and didn't know how to start a fire because you're bloody useless Vic wasn't really listening that one time when you taught him, but we've survived! Mostly because we've gotten a bit of help.

I know you said not to trust people, but she's saved our lives a bit if I'm being honest. Her name is Marnie. She can be a bit harsh, and she keeps calling us names, and she freaks me out a bit and I don't think I'm doing a very good job of selling her, but she's nice, honest!

It probably doesn't surprise you much to hear that Glo has become a bit of an unofficial leader. Me and Vic have been following her around for as long as I can remember, honestly, so nothing's changed there. She's a bit better at holding herself together than we are, I think.

Don't tell his mum, but I think Vic might be getting a bit homesick. I worry because I think the stress of everything is getting to him. I've done my best to help, I think, but I'm not sure if I'm saying the right things. It's not like him to get so down in the dumps, even if it's only sometimes.

I'm feeling a bit homesick myself, if I'm being honest. I miss Mum and I miss you and our Wooloo and everyone else in Postwick as well. I'm trying to get over it, though, because I really do think this has been the most fun I've ever had. I didn't realise there was so much to see in the world!

There's these white trees out here, Sones. Trees with white bark. It's insane.

We met Kabu! You were right that he's a bit of a lunatic weird, but I like him. You never told me you knew someone from Hoenn, let alone the bloody mayor of Motostoke! We had tea and talked about his homeland, and it was super interesting. Also he's really annoyed with you for never mentioning him, and so am I now that I've met him.

Do better, Sones.

He told us that he doesn't remember much about the history of the Sword and Shield (because he's old), but he did tell us to go to a place called Turffield, that there's some stuff written in the fields there. I don't know what that means but we'll be stopping by there on our way north. I really hope we find something concrete soon because it's driving me nuts not knowing anything!

Tell Mum that I'm really missing her. I don't know how I'm going to handle going for so long without her because I already miss her so much. Remind her that she'll get to see both me and Lee in the end, yeah? That'll cheer her up, I hope. And thinking about her getting cheered up cheers me up as well!

It's really late right now, and I'm sure I've forgotten a million things I wanted to say but I think I should stop writing before I fall asleep at the desk and also I'm running out of room on the page. The three of us plus Marnie are going to be in Turffield a week from now. I dunno if they have a post office but if they do, send your next letter there!

Hop

Hop huffs as he finishes reading. It's somehow stuffy and rambly at the same time but he knows he can't spend any more time fussing over it. He's about to put it into the envelope, when he hesitates.

There's something he needs to know. Ever since their conversation with Kabu, he's felt that Sonia might know a lot more about things than she makes out. He's never really been told exactly what happened on her and Lee's adventure, the one that led to Lee becoming the Champion. He grabs his pen again, hastily scribbling one final line at the very bottom of the page.

Does the name Rose mean anything to you?

They leave Motostoke early the next morning. Sonia would be proud of them! Hop is feeling surprisingly energised, even after staying up so late. Turns out sleeping in an actual bed instead of on lightly-padded ground does wonders for your sleep quality.

"What d'you just say...?" Victor says, rubbing away at his eyes with a yawn, and Hop just stares at him, bewildered.

"I didn't... say anything?" Hop says with a tilt of his head. He's pretty sure he didn't say anything. Victor just mumbles incoherently in response and yawns again.

Seems like some things never change. Fancy bed or not.

Kabu sent them off at Motostoke's gate, providing them with a healthy amount of supplies, enough for them to reach Turffield and maybe even Hammerlocke after that.

It hasn't stopped Marnie from going off ahead by herself, though, looking to hunt some Bunnelby. It all feels a bit unnecessary in Hop's mind, given how secure they now are on the food front, but it seems to be a habit Marnie can't break, scouting ahead without them.

Hop thinks she just likes her time alone.

Gloria bumps a shoulder against his, startling Hop from his thoughts. "How are you feeling?" she asks, and Hop's eyes drift to the landscape around them.

Lake Axewell is breathtaking up close. He's never seen so much water in his entire life, struggles to even imagine what the ocean is supposed to be like. There's Wingull cawing in the sky above them, the breeze is gentle, and the temperature is comfortable enough. It's nice. It should be calming, but in the end, he feels...

"Nervous," Hop admits, eyes darting around as if expecting some sort of ambush, some mystical force watching them, waiting to strike. He appreciates that Kabu warned them, but he hasn't been able to get the fact that they are quite possibly getting hunted out of his mind now that they're on the road.

Gloria sighs, a deep frown landing on her face. "I know. Wouldn't mind so much if it were an honest fight, but all this chatter about some Wyndon bloke breathindown our necks this entire time is pissing me off," she says, then shakes her head as if to physically dispel her thoughts and takes in a breath. "Ain't nothing going on right now, though. It's peaceful. For now."

Hop hums. It is peaceful, and he agrees that there likely aren't any assassins or bandits laying in wait for them just yet.

Something has been bothering him, though. Something his brain just hasn't been able to shake since the very beginning. "That prophecy..." he starts, and Gloria turns her head. "It said something about a great evil, didn't it? Do you think that's...?"

Gloria, clearly understanding his meaning, appears to mull it over for a few moments. "I dunno... seems to me like we're just dealing with some power-hungry twat. Have a feeling calling him a 'Great evil' or whatever is giving the bloke too much credit," she says, and Hop snickers. He may not have known what that word meant the first time he heard it, but he definitely does now.

"Maybe..." he says quietly, even though her words do little to placate him. A part of him feels like it would have been nice to have put a definitive face to whatever threat they might be facing in the future. If this stupid prophecy is to be believed. It's all made him uncomfortable ever since he first heard it, and although he's quite the fan of the idea of Victor and Gloria becoming legendary heroes, the lack of a tangible threat is making him extremely antsy.

And if he's being totally honest... the words make him think back to what he saw in his delirium in the forest. He knows that it's likely nothing, isn't so egomaniacal as to think he's the sort to receive actual bloody... premonitions or some bollocks, but some extra reassurance that the hellscape he saw was just a figment of his own imagination would be nice.

Gloria has always been good at reading his mind. He can tell that she's well aware of where his thoughts are drifting, even though he's hiding half of the story from her, and that she's doing the best she can to find him a satisfactory answer.

Hop likes that about her. She's not a dreamer like him, is always able to see things for what they are rather than getting bogged down over what they could be. It helps bring him back down to earth whenever he obsesses over what-ifs and maybes.

"Maybe... that part is just made up," she says. "Maybe there was some big, old evil one time, and maybe the Sword and Shield helped a pair of heroes defeat it, whatever it was." She lifts up the Shield slightly, eyes drifting over it as if it may somehow hold the answers she seeks in its jagged ridges, in its worn away colours.

She lowers it, focusing instead on the path ahead of them. "I don't believe in destiny," she says simply. "Me and Vic found these things, and that's that. Doesn't need to mean anything else."

Hop swallows, and nods. She's right. The old story might be true, but it's not like the people who wrote it, who have passed it on to generation after generation, could predict the future. He takes in a deep breath. Maybe he's just stressed. Maybe that strange dream was just his mind conjuring up some fantastical idea to fill some gap in the story that need not be filled.

"Cheer up, Hop!" Victor chirps from up ahead, having evidently finally woken up. "Me and Glo can give you a real fight tonight, if you like!" he says, and Hop isn't sure if he could have possibly been misunderstood harder.

Gloria snorts indignantly. "I dunno about that, considering you nearly took my head off last time we fought," she chides, and Hop winces internally too because that last spar in Postwick, if you could even call it that, had frightened him.

But Victor just rolls his eyes. "We do need to get some actual practice in, y'know," he says, sounding more serious than before, serious enough that he sees Gloria's brow immediately furrow. "That haxorus thing proved we ain't as good as we thought, that we have no clue how to really use these things. And if there're people after us..." he trails off, uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment, before straightening his posture and grinning. "Anyway! Point is, we can't hide from things forever, Sis."

Gloria glares at him, surely about to insist that she isn't hiding from anything, but then lets out a heavy exhale. "Fine. But we're going back to basics. No fighting. Not until we have a grip on things," she says, and Victor grins.

"No fighting, I promise!" he says, and Hop can already hear the mischief brewing in his voice as he stretches his arms above his head. "Y'know, since you did get absolutely destroyed by me last time— Ack!" He just barely dodges the waterskin Gloria throws at his head. "Dishonourable!" he shouts, dodging backwards when Gloria tries to grab him by the collar in order to throttle him.

Hop just laughs quietly to himself, his fears going to the back of his mind as the two of them tussle together. It'll be nice for things to go back to a semblance of how they were before - him cheering from the sidelines as the two of them practice their technique. Maybe Marnie could join them too!

The three of them fall back into a comfortable rhythm as they return to walking. Gloria leads the charge as Hop and Victor chatter away behind her, and Hop...

He feels good. Much better than he did earlier, at least, having completely dropped his guard by this point. The conversation is light, and his mind is no longer preoccupied with scheming aristocrats, nor with hypothetical apocalypses.

Maybe that's why he doesn't notice the figure ahead, only stopping when Gloria physically puts a hand to his chest to stop him. Hop's breath immediately hitches, because the entire scene is eerily evocative of their encounter with the Haxorus, and they all know how that went. He swallows heavily as he focuses on the lone person blocking the road ahead, and he can't stop the sound of surprise escaping his lips because he could swear that's...

"Bede...?" he says, surely far too quiet for anyone other than the twins to hear, who both turn their heads towards him as if they hadn't initially recognised the figure themselves. Bede just stands in place, his hat lowered so that it partially obscures his face, and his coat billowing as the wind starts to pick up.

Something isn't right.

Gloria cautiously leads them closer, the three of them maintaining their position behind the Shield on their approach, and Bede raises his head, finally revealing his face.

"Well, well, well..." he drawls, a mocking smirk on his face as he raises a hand, with two fingers pointing directly towards them. "If it isn't the supposed heroes." He sneers, and Hop isn't sure he's ever seen such disdain on someone's face in his entire life.

That is, until Bede's eyes land on him.

"And their lost, little Wooloo."

Hop's breath catches, and his face contorts in a mixture of offence over Bede's words and utter confusion in such a massive change in demeanour. For a moment there, he'd been glad to see Bede again, but there's a tension in the air now. One that makes the hairs on Hop's arms stand on end.

A heavy silence stretches out between them, only interrupted by the wind, and the rustle of leaves.

"Move," Gloria orders, breaking the silence and planting her feet, solidifying her position as a wall between them and Bede.

Bede just snorts, a downright vicious gleam in his eyes. "I intend to do no such thing," he says, and takes a step forward. "Drop your weapons," he counters, his gaze solely focused on the twins now, disregarding Hop completely.

Hop's stomach twists into knots as he desperately tries to think of something to say to defuse the situation, because there has to be a mistake, there must be some sort of misunderstanding. The words die in his throat as he thinks back to when Bede stormed off yesterday. Just before he left, Bede mentioned that he was looking for something.

Or someone.

Bede's eyes are focused, that of a hunter stalking its prey, and it's suddenly abundantly clear to Hop who Bede's prey is.

"That's not gonna happen," Gloria declares, Victor having already drawn the Sword and placed himself close to her back, ready to charge with her if needed. "Now get out of our way, before we put you in the ground."

Hop flinches, because surely they don't need to fight, surely there's something they can—

Bede's laugh rings out, sounding almost theatrical. "I was hoping I'd get to see the false heroes in action," he says, his eyes narrowed and a sharp grin on his face as he raises his hand again, his palm pointed directly towards them.

Hop feels a tingle in the back of his mind, a brief dizziness that immediately makes him feel off-balance, as if he'd spent the last few minutes spinning in place - and that's the only warning he gets before something blasts against the Shield, sending Hop sailing backwards.

The wind is knocked out of his lungs when he hits the ground, his mind reduced to its most primal instincts as it tells him to just run. He scrambles, slipping in the dirt before pulling himself up and throwing himself behind a tree.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Gloria's shield clangs twice again as another two beams of what must be psychic energy of some sort hit her shield, the relentless onslaught pinning her in place. Victor waits for an opening and bounds out of safety and into the treeline, clearly intent on splitting Bede's attention. Another beam narrowly misses Victor and instead obliterates the tree Hop is hiding behind.

It's around this point that Hop realises that Bede might be capable of a bit more than spinning a poxy apple around.

Hop yelps as splinters dig into his skin, and the tree begins to topple over. He dives out of the way before diving back into cover behind the now toppled tree trunk. "Are you bloody insane?!" he shouts in Bede's direction. "You nearly bloody killed me!" He hasn't even done anything! And neither have Vic and Glo anyway!

"Then get out of the way," Bede snarls, clearly not anywhere near as mortified by the mortal danger he's putting them in as Hop has had hoped.

"Get away from him!" Victor shouts, his voice cracking as he moves out into the open, clearly in an attempt to divert Bede's attacks away from Hop. He narrowly deflects a projectile with his sword, which, thank the bloody gods, actually works. Hop's heart hammers in his chest because he doesn't like the idea of Victor risking his own life for him at all,  doesn't think he'd be able to live with himself if Victor got hurt over him.

"Pathetic," Bede spits, easily firing another volley at Victor's new position.

Hop covers his ears as more trees come crashing down, the place having devolved into an absolute warzone in less than a minute. Mud splatters against Hop's face as Bede's magic rends the earth itself, throwing large masses of soil towards the twins whenever they start to get close.

Victor lets out an unrestrained sound of frustration, now crouched behind a newly created mound of dirt, pinned in place by the hail of projectiles getting sent his way. "Sis!" he shouts out, and Gloria practically growls in response.

"I'm trying!" she shouts back as another beam pings off the Shield. Hop can see how each hit is tiring her out more and more, her movements becoming increasingly sluggish. Every time she tries to take a step forward, she's sent two steps back by the force of Bede's attacks, while Victor can't move at all without risking everything.

Bede, meanwhile, looks to be barely breaking a sweat. What had started out looking to be a relatively even fight when the twins first made their moves has clearly turned entirely in Bede's favour. A venomous-looking smirk sits on his lips, and it's clear that he thinks he's already won, is simply playing with his food at this point, content to just slowly wear them down to the point of surrender, or... until they make a grave mistake.

Hop swallows. He has to do something, can't allow himself to just watch as things continue like this. Even just redirecting some of Bede's fire could make the world of difference, could open things up in a way that would allow either Victor or Gloria to finally be able to make a move.

He takes a deep breath because it's scary, it's terrifying. There's a very real possibility that the instant Bede registers him as any sort of threat, he'll promptly get his head taken off, but... he sees no other option.

Adrenaline pumps through Hop's veins as he makes his move, darting across to the other side of what's left of the road, doing his best not to get caught up in what is now practically a swamp of displaced soil. Bede glances over briefly, before completely disregarding him, not even slightly registering him as a threat.

Hop intends to make him regret that mistake.

His fingers drift to his knife for a fleeting moment before immediately balking. He doesn't know how to use it, likely doesn't have the finesse to make much use of it all, and well...

Trying to kill them or not, Hop doesn't want to see any blood spilled today.

Hop positions himself in one of Bede's blind spots. He might not have much experience in a fight, but he likes to think himself decently strong. Years and years of Wooloo farming have ensured that his arms are far from noodles, and he could probably clock someone if needed. With a quick exhale, he charges before he can think twice, winding up a punch to smack Bede right in that stupid, smug face of his, and—

Bede spins on him, catching his fist mid-swing.

One quick, simple manoeuvre is all it takes for Bede to have one arm wrapped tightly around Hop's throat, his free hand pressed against the side of Hop's head, waves of psychic energy pulsing from his open palm. Bede's grip is deceptively strong, and his fingers twirl with self-satisfaction as he laughs.

"Seems your little tagalong here ended up being even more of a liability than you expected, hmm?" he says to the twins, and the only saving grace Hop can think of is that he can't see Bede's surely smirking face right now.

Though what he does see is far worse.

Victor and Gloria stand in the middle of the road ahead of them, and Hop sees resignation and what must be disappointment on their faces.

Disappointment with him.

Because it's true, isn't it? He's proper mucked things up, has done nothing but muck things up this entire time. And now he's managed to get himself taken hostage, has forced the twins into an impossible scenario. And it's all his fault.

He really is just a liability. Dead weight. A burden desperately following his friends along on their journey, a journey he has no right being a part of.

"Your weapons," Bede snarls, his impatience clear, and Hop can't suppress a whimper when the psychic energy emanating from Bede's hand intensifies, because his brain feels like it's slowly frying inside his skull.

"D-don't listen to him!" Hop shouts out, voice cracking, but Gloria immediately drops the Shield to the ground. "Glo, no!" He writhes in Bede's grip, letting out a pained sound when he receives a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"Back away," Bede growls as Victor drops the Sword, and Hop wants to scream, wants to practically wail from them not to give up because of him, to just let him die if it means they don't sacrifice the weapons for his sake.

But then he catches the look that Gloria sends his way, the faintest sparkle in her eyes, and Hop instantly knows what she's trying to say.

Trust me.

Hop clamps his mouth shut, gritting his teeth because he does trust her. More than anything. And he's already made enough of a mess today.

His heart hammers in his chest as the twins begin to back away, because they're both completely at Bede's mercy now, unarmed and defenceless. If Bede decided he'd prefer Victor and Gloria dead...

He stifles a whimper at the thought. He's already shown enough weakness today. He trusts Gloria, and while he has absolutely no idea what her plan is, he will go along with it.

Bede lets out a satisfied-sounding hmph and releases his grip, throwing Hop to the ground. "Run along, little Wooloo. If they even keep you around after your... pitiful performance."

Hop snarls, immediately spinning around to see Bede's downright malicious smirk. In it, he sees nothing of the kind boy he'd met in Motostoke. The one who preened beneath his praise, who had been surprised when Hop didn't immediately hate him, who spent a fortune on him to repay his basic decency. Instead, it's all been replaced by this sneering, cruel boy who seems to be practically overflowing with satisfaction at having defeated them.

But ultimately, what catches Hop's attention more than anything isn't Bede, but rather what's directly behind him.

Marnie.

She grabs Bede's shoulder, spinning him around before proceeding to sucker punch him directly in the face. Bede crumples on impact, falling unceremoniously into the dirt. Hop's breath catches in his throat, half-expecting Bede to throw himself back up onto his feet and start the fight all over again, but... he remains still, completely unmoving.

It's over.

Marnie gives Bede's unconscious body an extra kick for good measure before holding out a hand to help Hop up. "You hurt?"

Hop just makes a small sound that he hopes she understands is a negative, too frazzled by what just happened to manage anything more. His ears are ringing, his hands trembling because Bede just tried to kill them, he tried to kill them.

He hears two sets of footsteps approach, flinching away when a hand touches his shoulder because he can't look at them right now. He can't look at them after what he did, after the danger he put them all in.

He was a fool to ever think he could make a difference.

Blood drips from a cut on his palm, the pain only now registering now that the adrenaline is wearing off. He absently wipes it away with the sleeve of his jacket, the one Bede bought for him, finding a sick sense of satisfaction in tarnishing Bede's gift in such a way.

His gaze flickers back to Bede's crumpled form. Was the person he met yesterday an act? Was the gift just a vain attempt of his to feel good about himself? Was anything of the boy he met in Motostoke actually real?

He read in a book once that when someone is asleep, you get to see their true face. And when he sees the deep, almost angry scowl on Bede's unconscious face, he decides no.

He must have never existed at all.

"Farmboy."

"Arsehole."

"Weakling."

"Tosser."

"Bumpkin."

"Prick!"

"Hop!" Gloria shouts out, and Hop spins his head around to see her giving him a scolding look, the sort she is not old enough to give him, in his opinion. "Quit badgering the hostage."

Hop practically growls, because—"He's the one badgering me, Glo!" He jabs a finger vaguely in Bede's direction, refusing to even look at him and the stupid smug smirk he's had on his face ever since he realised he could get under his skin.

"Either way, he's the one who's handcuffed right now. So quit letting him get to you," she says flatly, but Hop can tell that even she's at least a bit irritated by Bede's antics.

"Oh, don't worry. I can do that just fine, because I'm the bigger person," Hop insists as he crosses his arms, sticking his nose up in disdain as he tilts his entire body away from Bede. No, he won't let him get to him at all.

"Garlic-head."

"Twat!"

Gloria snarls as she stands, her boot stamping hard into the ground as she takes a step towards Bede. "Right, you." She grabs him by the collar and jabs a finger into his chest. "Either shut it, or we'll leave you tied up on the side of the bastard road. You should be thanking us for not finishing you off."

The words are cold, cold enough that it even scares Hop to hear Gloria say such things, but he can't find himself disagreeing with her. Bede had no qualms trying to hurt—no, trying to kill them. He should feel lucky that they're nothing like him.

"And you," Gloria says, rounding on Hop, who immediately squeaks and puts his hands out defensively. "Cut it out," she says, her voice suddenly far quieter than he'd been expecting. "Don't stoop to his level, for your own sake. Go for a walk if he's pissing you off." She looks around, as if to emphasise all the different places he could be other than here right now. "I can handle him."

Hop lets out a petulant huff. Frankly, everything he's said is perfectly justified in his opinion. He starts to wring his hands anxiously as he considers Gloria's suggestion because he refuses to let Bede out of his sight, at least not until Victor and Marnie come back from gathering more wood.

The campfire's flames crackle in the silence that settles between them as Hop frowns towards the floor, not feeling the usual comfort he does from the fire's warmth.

They've made camp early, partially because they all need the break after everything that's happened today, and partially because they need some time to think about what they plan to do with their hostage.

Their hostage.

Hop runs a sweaty hand through his hair because gods, why the bloody hell do they have a hostage? Barely over a week ago, he'd been happily living his life how he's always lived it. He'd wake up, do his farm chores for the day and then spend the rest of it messing around with Victor and Gloria. And now? Now he's travelling on foot to Wyndon with a pair of magical weapons, a rebel, and they have a bloody prisoner.

It isn't the first time that Hop has felt like he might be a bit in over his head, and he has a feeling that it won't be the last, either. That is, as long as he doesn't decide to go home tomorrow morning with his tail between his legs, which he's actually quite heavily considering after today's pathetic performance.

Hop's chest tightens at the thought, not daring to look to Gloria out of fear that he'll see even the faintest glimmer of the look he saw on her face earlier, of what felt like regret for ever bringing someone as useless as him along.

His eyes turn to Bede, who is now silently scowling towards the ground, Gloria's words having seemingly succeeded at getting him to shut his trap for once. A heavy-looking set of manacles sits on his wrists, having been clamped onto him by Marnie shortly after she knocked him out. A faint, pink glow emanates from them, some sort of magic, or... anti-magic, he supposes, preventing Bede from using any of his magical capabilities. Hop isn't going to pretend he has any clue how it works, but he will admit that it was an incredibly nifty thing for Marnie to have on hand.

It does leave him wondering why she would have such things on hand, though.

Hop is in the middle of physically biting his tongue to prevent himself from sending another caustic comment Bede's way, when he sees blood start to trickle from Bede's nose, quickly dripping down his face and onto his shirt. "B-bloody hell!" he says breathlessly as his hands immediately fly to his bag to rummage for something to staunch the bleeding. "What's wrong with you?"

Bede doesn't reply, doesn't even lift his head to try to stop the flow of blood. Hop manages to find a clean enough rag and holds it to Bede's nose with a disgruntled huff, because he did not sign up for this. Still, hostage or not, he's not going to let Bede bleed to death, if that's even possible for a nosebleed.

"Ha! Wouldja look at that," Marnie crows from behind Hop, and he turns to see her with a pile of dry wood in her hands, a concerned-looking Victor trailing behind her. "Looks like our little mage pushed himself too hard."

"Eh?" Hop knits his brow in confusion, a similar expression landing on Gloria's face, and Marnie sighs in that incredulous-sounding way she always does when she's annoyed that she has to explain something to them.

"Happens when a mage pushes themselves past what they're capable of. Turns their brains to mush." Marnie dumps the firewood onto the ground. "Embarrassing, if you ask me," she practically spits in Bede's direction, and even Hop winces at the sheer vitriol in her tone. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that she has a problem with mages, though Bede's capability for magic is the least of his issues, in Hop's opinion. Even if said magic was getting launched directly at his head just a few hours ago.

Hop silently looks to Bede, who, surprisingly, is actually leaning into his hand, his eyes glossy and glazed over as he takes uneven breaths through his mouth.

He looks... miserable.

Hop pushes down whatever sympathy he might feel before it can take root. Bede should feel miserable after what he pulled, and if this is the consequence of him pushing himself too hard, then it's his own fault anyway. And maybe Hop finds just a bit of satisfaction in the realisation that this means that everything wasn't as effortless for Bede as he'd been making it look.

Hard not to feel a bit sorry for the bloke, though.

It takes a long while, but the bleeding eventually stops. Bede's eyes are still unfocused and his balance is unsteady, even while sitting on the ground. It's clear that he's still out of it, and Hop winces when he sees the mess it's all made, the rag soaked and blood smeared over Bede's face and shirt.

"I'll handle him," Gloria quickly insists as she stands, a strange look in her eyes as she looks to Hop, but he gets no time to question it before Marnie hollers from behind him.

"Oi, perfect opportunity. Want a chat with you," she says, a serious-looking frown on her face that, if Hop is being honest, terrifies him. He gets the sense that she's cross with him for some reason, though he hasn't the foggiest idea why. She motions a hand for him to follow, and she walks into the treeline, Hop obediently following along. Whatever she wants to talk about, she must not want any of the others to overhear, and the thought makes him uneasy.

Hop's eyes dart around the forest surrounding them as they walk, keeping a lookout for any more ambushes. All of the words that have come out of Bede's mouth since he awoke have been regulated to vague insults and snide comments, no matter how hard they try to get useful information out of him. It's left them with no idea if he has backup lying in wait, or if there's anyone who'll come looking for him. It's all left Hop's nerves utterly shot, and he thinks he's seen enough combat for a lifetime.

Eventually, they find a relatively open clearing. Once they reach the centre, Marnie immediately spins on him.

"Show me your knife," she orders, and Hop jolts from the suddenness of it all. His hands slowly drift to the belt Sonia gave him, and he pulls the knife from its scabbard, handing it over. Marnie hums as she runs her finger over the slightly curved, serrated blade, and by the look on her face, she doesn't seem pleased.

Though, then again, this is also how she looks... most of the time.

Her eyes flick back up to his face. "You know how to use it?" she asks, and while Hop would like to say yes, he's just fine at chopping vegetables with it, he also knows that's not what she means, and her eyes are boring into him in that way that always manages to put him off-balance.

"Err... no?" he ekes out. He's spent brief moments with it alone here and there, where he would pull it out and swing it around for a bit, but it just feels clumsy and awkward in his hands. The bloody thing terrifies him, if he's being honest.

Marnie just hums again, making a point of pressing her finger against the tip before pulling it back, completely unscathed. Then, she throws the blade away into the grass.

"O-oi!" Hop squeaks. What's she doing that for? He moves to go pick it up again when Marnie holds out a hand to stop him.

"You don't need it," she says simply, moving to put herself between him and the knife. "Might teach you a thing or two one day, but not today," she adds with a tap to her own sheathed blade, then she starts to kick away some stones around her, as if clearing out an area in the centre of the field. Hop's brows knit in confusion, and he's about to ask her what she's doing, when—

A startled yelp tumbles from his lips as Marnie sweeps a leg under his, and he falls to the floor with an oof. "What the bloody hell was that for?" he says as he sits up, annoyance already simmering within him as he rubs his poor (admittedly, mostly unhurt) head.

"Gave you plenty of warning," Marnie says flatly, which is utter bollocks because she did no such thing. "You're no good in a fight, so the first thing you need to learn is to play dirty." She holds out a hand to help him up, and the instant Hop's hand grips onto hers, she yanks him up and promptly launches him in the opposite direction, straight into a mound of tall grass. "Tip one. Use your opponent's weight against them."

Hop spits out some grass as he lifts himself back up, feeling like a bloody Wooloo as he sends a deep scowl Marnie's way. "Can I get the tip before you use me as your example?" he says through gritted teeth, and Marnie just shrugs.

"Reckon you're more of a 'learning by example' sort of bloke," she says, which is true to an extent but he's not sure it gives her much of an excuse to bloody throw him around. "Tip two." She throws a handful of dirt directly into Hop's face, and he squawks, his hands coming up far too late to stop it from going all in his eyes. "Use your environment to your advantage."

"Can you cut it out?" Hop snarls, blinking rapidly as he desperately tries to wipe away the dust and dirt now caked around his eyes. He didn't consent to any of this, was already dirty enough after their stupid fight with Bede.

Marnie, unsurprisingly, completely ignores his complaining, and silently takes a step towards Hop, who immediately throws his hands out defensively.

"You're catching on," she says, her eyes drifting over his posture judgementally. "Spread your feet out more. Won't take much to knock you off your feet like that," she says, and Hop's ears immediately start to burn in embarrassment because that's exactly what happened with Bede, whose very first attack blew him completely off of his feet, even as the twins managed to hold their ground.

Hop looks down to his feet as he widens his stance, and Marnie immediately plants a kick to his chest. "Ah—!" He stumbles back, hands instinctively coming up to his chest, his eyes widening when he realises that he hasn't been sent tumbling like he'd expected.

"Tip three. Don't telegraph your attacks," Marnie says, and Hop thinks she might just look a bit pleased with him as she paces back and forth. She continues to look him over, as if looking for another mistake to point out, and Hop curls in on himself self-consciously.

"How many of these tips are there?" he asks quietly, because he'd like to not get walloped any more than he already has today.

Marnie shrugs. "As many as I can think of," she says, before very obviously winding up a punch towards Hop's face, far too obvious in hindsight. Hop crosses his arms in front of his face, successfully blocking the attack, but lets out a breathless squeak when he promptly feels Marnie's boot make direct impact with his crotch.

"Tip four," Marnie starts flatly as Hop falls to his knees. "Play dirty. All that stuff Victor keeps saying about honour? Chuck it out the window. When it's life or death, that shite is gonna get you killed."

Hop just whines pathetically, a bit too preoccupied with the agony he's experiencing to listen to what she's saying, but the ache in his crown jewels feels like a lesson learned anyway.

Marnie taps her foot impatiently while he slowly recovers, and with a shuddering breath, Hop eventually pulls himself up to his feet. He puts out his hands again, fully expecting Marnie to launch herself at him, but she just stares at him for a long moment.

"Now... we're gonna test what you've learned," she says, and that's all the warning he gets before she throws a punch his way. He narrowly dodges the hit, but isn't so lucky for the follow-up attack into his shoulder. He lets out a small hiss of pain, but her hits are thankfully soft, more to emphasise his failures than any real attempt to hurt him. He's not sure what Marnie actually wants from him here, so he tries to throw a punch of his own, but she grabs his wrist, similar to how Bede did, and throws him back into the grass.

And while the honourable part of his mind hopes that she'll leave things there, that the throw warrants a time-out between them, the part that's actually been listening to her teachings fully expects the footsteps he immediately hears coming his way. Hop grits his teeth, using the few seconds of time he has to rake his hands through the grass, then spins around onto his back as Marnie pounces on him and—

Marnie's breath hitches as the tip of Hop's knife presses gently into her chest.

Hop's eyes widen into saucers, panic overtaking him because he hadn't been thinking, hadn't meant to—

"Sneaky little shit when you want to be, ain't you?" Marnie says a little breathlessly, but there seems to be genuine pride gleaming in her eyes as she smirks down at him. "Suppose that's what I get for underestimating you."

Hop's cheeks burn as he lowers the blade, both from the praise, as well as his mortification with himself for doing something so risky, something that could have gotten Marnie hurt.

"Tip five," Marnie starts, and Hop vaguely raises his arms to block a blow that's surely coming, but she makes no such move. "Know when to run."

Hop swallows, expecting her to start bloody chasing him or something, but she just starts to dust herself off. "E-err... are we not testing that one?" he ekes out, and Marnie shrugs a single shoulder.

"Think you've had enough of a battering for one day," she says, and puts out a hand to help Hop up. Hop gratefully takes it, even though he thinks he'd had enough of a battering before she started contributing. He hisses in pain at the contact, suddenly remembering the cut on his palm. Marnie immediately grasps his wrist, frowning at the sight of it. "You said you weren't hurt," she says pointedly, and Hop purses his lips. Did he say that? He hadn't really been of a sound mind in the aftermath of it all.

"S'nothing," he says quietly, because it is nothing, at least when compared to how his arm was not so long ago, as quickly as it ended up healing. Still, Marnie shakes her head at him and sits him down on a rock nearby, her eyes lingering far too long on the cut than Hop feels necessary.

He averts his gaze in the silence as she gets to work bandaging his hand. He feels like this always happens—they have a bit of a moment together, then just as quickly, the air seems to change, Marnie feeling distant once again. Whenever they're alone, soon enough, he feels her eyes on him, watching, analysing, scrutinising.

Once she's finished, Hop moves to stand, but freezes when Marnie's grip on his wrist tightens, holding him in place.

"Anything you want to tell me?" she says, and it's abundantly clear that she's not asking a question at all, that she's laying out an accusation.

Hop gulps, hard, because how could she possibly know?

Marnie's grip tightens, and she jabs a finger into Hop's chest. "I know you're hiding something," she states plainly. "'Cause the second you started lying to them," she points a finger vaguely towards camp, "you've started giving them the same guilty, kicked puppy look you've been giving me since the day we met. So out with it."

Hop's eyes widen, his expression surely turning into something far too guilty-looking for him to have any chance of denying anything now, and he grits his teeth. Is he really that obvious? Or is she just that good? He doesn't have much time to ruminate on it, because Marnie's stare is only intensifying.

"Hop."

"Alright!" he shouts out, then swallows. He's eager to not get smacked around any more than he already has, but it's looking like a foregone conclusion at this point. "S'just... y'know... my brother might, emphasis on might, be... the Champion, the king's Head Knight, or— or whatever..." he mumbles out, a part of him regretting saying anything and maybe also his own birth as he allows Marnie to connect the dots that it means that the two of them are surely mortal enemies.

Hop grits his teeth and closes his eyes, already bracing for impact, but when he eventually musters the bravery to look to Marnie, she just blinks at him.

"That's... not what I expected you to say," she says quietly, and Hop's brow knits in confusion because what did she expect, then? She narrows her eyes at him. "And there's nothing else?"

"E-err... I don't think so?" Hop ekes out. He doesn't think he's hiding anything else, and if he is, he hasn't realised he's been doing it. Whatever it is, he doesn't understand how it could possibly be worse than him being the younger brother of someone so close to the king that she is quite literally rebelling against.

Marnie looks like she doesn't believe him for a moment, then relents, letting out a small exhale. "Your brother... tell me about him. Weren't really listening the first time," she says, though the stern look on her face makes it clear she'd listened enough.

Hop purses his lips. "Err... promise you won't get angry with me?" he says meekly, because he's not sure if he's eager to say much more if it's just going to lead to him getting a fist to his jaw.

Marnie waves him off, her grumpy-looking frown softening slightly. "As long as he ain't the Spikemuth Slasher, we ain't gonna have a problem," she says, and Hop lets out a strangled sound. The Spikemuth—? His brother isn't a bloody serial killer.

He doesn't think so, at least.

"Well..." Hop starts quietly. "Like I said, he's— he's head... knight bloke at the castle in Wyndon," he says, having already forgotten the fancy title that Kabu told him just yesterday. He's never really cared much for any of it. He's just Lee.

That's always been enough for him.

"He's... amazing, honestly," Hop says a little breathlessly. "Brave, kind, caring... always willing to stick up for anyone, no matter what."

He remembers how, long before any of this 'knight' stuff, Lee would always be by his side, was always there to defend him from any bullies that would sometimes roam to Postwick from Wedgehurst, looking to pick on a weak target.

Not a day goes by where Hop doesn't miss him. As useless as he's felt this entire journey so far, the thought of going back home to Postwick without him makes his stomach twist.

"His name's... Leon, yeah?"

Hop blinks, surprised she knows Lee's name. He'd been careful not to mention it, though he supposes it isn't so surprising that she knows the name of someone that's surely very high on the shit-list of her rebellion, so he just gives a small, affirmative nod.

Marnie huffs, her hand gripping onto the end of her sleeve. "My brother knows 'im. Or... used to, I suppose. Before he became a twat. No offence."

"Some taken?" Hop admits with a raised eyebrow. Hard not to take at least a bit of offence when someone calls your brother a twat, but he's more preoccupied with the other part of her statement because how could the leader of the rebellion possibly know Lee? "Your brother... Piers, yeah?"

"Mm. He went along with your bro to Wyndon when I was a kid," she says, and Hop immediately opens his mouth to ask a million follow-up questions, but— "Don't ask, 'cause I dunno. He never really talked about it much. Just know there was four of 'em, and that they eventually had a falling out."

Hop puffs out his lower lip, disappointed by the lack of information, but he'd be a hypocrite if he got too annoyed about it. Marnie's already told him more than Lee or Sonia ever have.

Four of them... That must mean Lee, Sonia, Piers, and... someone else. He's always wondered why Lee and Sonia have always been so secretive over what happened back then, but he supposes it makes sense why they might not be so open about cavorting with someone who is now a leader of a rebellion.

Hop huffs. His curiosities will have to be satisfied another day. Both Sonia and Lee are going to get the biggest grilling of their lives the next chance he gets.

Though... there is still something bothering him, something Marnie can actually answer.

"Earlier... you said you weren't expecting me to mention my brother," he says, and he wonders if he's giving the same probing look Marnie has so often given him as he checks her face for a reaction. "What else did you think I was hiding?"

Marnie lets out a harsh exhale through her nose, giving him the slightest bit of a dirty look. It's clear that she was hoping that he'd let that go, but if there's anything he's deeply stubborn over, it's his curiosity. She's silent for a few moments.

"Your wounds..." she eventually says quietly, and Hop's eyes immediately shoot to his bandaged hand. "You heal quickly," she points out, and Hop feels like there's a meaning behind her words, a meaning he doesn't understand in the slightest.

"Well, I.... I suppose?" Hop says quietly. It's always been a bit of a thing, that he's back on his feet quicker than most after a twisted ankle, that he's never bled much from his cuts. He's always chalked it up to a mix of good luck and way too much energy, because he's never liked being kept down for long, always has far too much to do with his days for him to spend them cooped up in bed.

Marnie just hums vaguely. "Ain't unheard of... s'just that it usually means they have healing magic in their blood," she says, finally laying out her point, her original accusation, and Hop freezes because—

"What?!" he exclaims, hands furiously patting over his body as if hearing such words could have transformed him somehow.

"Don't get your hopes up," Marnie says flatly, her displeasure with the idea clear on her face. It seems that even the healers don't escape her dislike of mages.

"But, but!" Hop whines. "You can't just say that! What if I actually am?! Capable of- of healing people, I mean," he says, excitement bubbling in his veins because it might mean he could finally be useful, could finally help Vic and Glo the way he wants to.

And finally stop being such a liability.

"Ain't that simple." Marnie blows some hair out of her face. "Usually, you'd know by now. People with magic in 'em usually accidentally throw a bottle with their mind or set their mum on fire before the age of ten," she says, and Hop can't stop the look of unabashed horror from landing on his face over that image.

"W-well..." he trails off quietly. He tries to think back, to conjure up something that might suggest that he's capable of something more, but he comes up short; unable to think of anything he's done that could even be considered especially remarkable, let alone magical.

Bitterness starts to seep into his mind at the thought.

Marnie snorts, as if to say 'exactly', seemingly more amused by his disappointment than anything. "S'why I thought you were a mage, just hiding it from me. That, and I couldn't think of another reason why you were..." she trails off, gesturing vaguely in the direction of their camp. Tagging along, is what she's leaving unsaid, and Hop hears it loud and clear.

His fingers discretely curl into a fist. He has to make himself useful, has to stop being such dead weight, and he has to do it soon. If this magic thing ends up being for real, he might finally be able to be the person he wants to be.

He's not sure when such thoughts began to slither into his mind, when just being himself started to not feel like enough anymore. Maybe it's because the twins are soaring to new heights now, while he knows he's still the same sad farmboy from Postwick he's always been.

"Better you ain't, if you ask me," Marnie says, her vitriol from before clearly bubbling up again, and despite the negative energy practically emanating from her, Hop is glad to distract himself from his own thoughts.

"You... don't like mages, then?" he says quietly. Postwick's dislike for them has always seemed like it was driven by a fear of the unknown. An unfair belief that those who are different simply cannot be trusted, and he's never agreed with it. Marnie, though... she seems well-travelled, doesn't seem the sort to hold such fears.

"Sevipers, the lot of them," Marnie spits, an uncharacteristic fury in her tone, before she schools her expression back to something more neutral, though even now she still can't completely hide her sneer. "You were stupid to ever get involved with him," she says, and it's clear who she's talking about.

"He was nice—"

"He's a mage. You can't trust them," she says, her voice raising again. Then, she sighs heavily, running a hand down her face. "Sorry. Suppose if you do end up having a smidge of magic in you, you probably won't be so bad. As long as he doesn't get his mitts on you."

Hop blinks. "Who?" he asks, and Marnie sighs heavily, silent for a long moment. She's clearly collecting her thoughts, or maybe choosing how much she actually wants to say.

The sun is going down by now, twilight filtering over the meadow they're sitting in. The sky is a deep purple, and Hop swallows, looking back down to the grass, because it's all a bit too evocative of the vision he saw a couple nights ago for his tastes.

"Spikemuth was once a safe haven for mages," Marnie finally says. "We were technically a part of the Kingdom of Galar, but we mostly did our own thing, didn't much listen to what the king had to say." She lets out a small exhale from her nose and turns away before continuing. "Back when mages had to hide what was in their blood, when they'd get strung-up for something they can't change... Spikemuth was there for them." Her posture is rigid, and the words sound far too sympathetic for someone who supposedly hates them.

She shrugs her shoulders, but it seems half-hearted. "The old king didn't mind much—better there than anywhere else, y'know? We paid our taxes, and that was enough for there not to be any trouble." Her eyes darken. "Until Rose came along."

Hop practically flinches. "You mean—"

"Aye, same bloke. Probably," she says, a bit absently. "Dunno how he did it. He's supposedly self-made, but he got real powerful, real quick when the old king died. Now... he's probably the most powerful man in Galar."

Dread starts to pool in Hop's stomach. That's what they're dealing with? It didn't fall beneath his notice that she said most powerful, not second to the king, but even more so—a fact that maybe isn't so surprising when he doesn't even know the king's name.

"He didn't like Spikemuth," Marnie says bitterly. "Hated how independent we were, hated the fact that he couldn't keep us under his thumb. So, he gave us an ultimatum. Either submit fully to the crown, or they'll send in the soldiers." She swallows hard, her composure faltering in a way Hop never would have thought she was capable of. "We refused, obviously. We were confident that we could hold our ground. Between all the mages living there and the fact that we all knew the streets like the back of our hands, Piers said we'd be fine."

Hop shifts uncomfortably on the rock, well aware that this story must not have a happy ending as he watches a lone Drifloon float around in the distance. They should head back soon, but he wouldn't dare to interrupt Marnie now.

She clenches her fist, hard. "Rose knew it too, so he put out a decree—that if the mages turned against Spikemuth, the king would make 'em all legal, would let 'em live freely, however they liked," she says, her voice bitter and mocking by the end.

Then, she leans forward, as if to make sure Hop hears every word she has to say.

"Spikemuth burned," she spits. "I might have only been eight, but I saw it all with my own eyes, the things they did, and I don't plan on ever forgivin' 'em."

Hop silently wraps his arms around himself. It's just so... horrible. He can't imagine such a thing, the thought of Postwick receiving a similar fate making him feel sick. "How are things now? In Spikemuth?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper, and Marnie rolls her shoulders.

"Better than when it was on fire," she remarks dryly. "A hell of a lot worse than it was before... everything," she says, and Hop hums absently.

"I'm sorry," is all he can muster himself to say.

Marnie lets out a bitter-sounding scoff and shakes her head. She's silent for a few moments, then sighs. "Appreciate it."

They sit in silence for a while, until Marnie suddenly stands. "Come on, before they all think I shanked you and did a runner," she says and starts to walk towards camp. Hop just lets out a strangled sound, too freaked out by everything he's just heard to manage any more than that.

He... understands why Marnie might feel the way she does, and he'd never known that the freedom of mages in Galar had such a bloody history. Still, he can't help but think about how young Bede must have been at the time, how it's surely unfair to blame him over something he obviously didn't do. He has no intention of voicing that out loud, though, most of all because Bede has done nothing to deserve his defence.

As an especially cold gust of wind cuts through the night, he does his best to ignore the comforting warmth provided by the jacket he's still not thrown away.

Once they reach camp, Bede is all cleaned up, and he looks up when Hop approaches. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the milksop," he taunts. Hop doesn't deign it with a reply, no longer willing to rise to the bait, and Bede just tsks in response.

Conversation around the campfire is stilted from there, partly because of the things that feel unsaid between them all, but also surely because of the intruder in their midst who has now gotten comfortable glaring daggers at the lot of them, Victor looking especially uncomfortable as his eyes repeatedly dart back and forth between the fire and Bede.

Hop doesn't care anymore. Let him glare.

After a while, Hop quietly excuses himself to wash up in the lake, because although Marnie did a decent job of cleaning up his injured hand earlier, the rest of him is still far too muddy for his liking. Gloria sends another strange look his way, very similar to the one she gave him earlier, but Hop ignores it as he walks away. He can't face her properly right now, not after everything that's happened today.

The water is cold on his skin as he wades into Lake Axewell, a sensation that might have been pleasant a week ago, but no longer now that the autumn chill has begun to set in.

He does his best to keep his bandaged hand out of the water, but his eyes keep drifting to it. Eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him. It's maybe a bit of a waste of bandages, but Kabu gave them plenty before they left Motostoke, so it'll be fine. Once they're completely off, he looks to the now-exposed cut on his palm and slowly runs a finger over it.

It... doesn't really hurt anymore.

Hop purses his lips. Is that really so strange? As far as he knows, he's always been this way, and so the faintest spark of hope of being something more than he thought he was starts to bloom in his chest. He just wants to be helpful, wants to actually be able to contribute to the group instead of being, at best, a bystander.

He thinks back to the now countless times that he's patched up Victor's hands, worn bloody from hours of practising his sword technique. When Hop would finish, Victor would just grin, and tell him that he was already feeling better.

Fat chance of things being like that if Victor takes a sword to the gut, Hop thinks. His ability to do some basic first aid will be useless if things really go wrong.

Hop stares at his hand, doing his best to will something into happening, but...

Nothing.

Fine pebbles crunch under Hop's bare soles as he makes his way back onto the shore, quickly dressing himself in his old clothes even though he's still wet. The fire will dry him off well enough, and he isn't comfortable hanging out in the dark alone for any longer than necessary.

He begins to walk back to camp, the light of the fire clear in the distance, but freezes when he sees a figure in the darkness, directly between him and the distant glow. His breath hitches, his hand trembling as it moves for his knife, when—

"Hop."

Hop's lungs immediately vacate all of the air they'd been holding. "Gods, Vic, what are you bloody sneaking around for?" he says indignantly, his eyes slowly adjusting to see Victor's guilty-looking expression.

"Sorry! I hadn't meant to—to sneak..." he says, sounding surprisingly meek for the fact that it's only the two of them, which means something is wrong.

"Vic, what's—"

A pair of arms suddenly wrap around Hop's chest as Victor pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, burying his head into Hop's shoulder. Hop just holds him in return for a few moments, too stunned to manage much else as he rubs soothing circles with his thumb into Victor's back.

With a sniffle, Victor eventually pulls back. "I thought... I thought we were gonna lose you," he says quietly, and Hop's brow knits in confusion.

"I was... just down by the lake?" he says. Surely Victor hasn't gotten so paranoid that he panicked in the ten minutes he was gone.

Victor punches Hop in the chest, the way Gloria usually does when she's annoyed with him, which means he must be in trouble if Victor is doing it. "Earlier. When that mage had you..." he swallows, and Hop winces. Ah. That.

He thinks back to the twins' disappointed expressions, the disdain for him that they surely tried so hard to suppress, but Hop caught it. Not that they're wrong at all for feeling that way, because he really was an utter, irredeemable fool in that moment.

Hop puts on a grin. "Sorry, mate!" he says. "Marnie taught me some stuff earlier, and—and..." he trails off, his throat suddenly feeling dry. "You won't get any more trouble from me, promise!" The words feel like a lie on his tongue, a part of him not truly believing that he isn't going to mess up again, that he isn't inevitably going to put everyone in danger all over again because he's just that incapable.

But Victor just frowns, an almost incredulous look on his face. "What are you talking about?" he asks, and irritation starts to bubble in Hop's gut, because he isn't really sure what could have possibly gotten lost in translation.

"S'just... I'm not gonna get in your way anymore. No... delusions about what I'm capable of," he says, unable to hide the bitterness lacing his tone, and Victor's frown only deepens.

"That's what you think this is?" he says, his voice raising. "Hop, it's our fault that we didn't protect you!" he says, and Hop practically flinches at the words.

"What? No, it's not, you should be—"

"What was all that talk about being a hero for, eh?" Victor says, jabbing a finger harshly into Hop's chest. "Heroes protect people, and we were so focused trying to get the mage..." he trails off quietly, then swallows hard. "If there was a hero in that moment, it was you for trying to save us."

Hop's cheeks flush crimson on impact. A hero? Him? For throwing himself into a fight he should have known he was going to lose? He loves Vic, he really does, but he's not sure he's ever heard such bollocks come out of his mouth in his entire life. "Come on, Vic..."

"I mean it!" Victor says, then huffs. "M'not saying you should make a habit out of it, but... I'm not gonna blame you for trying to help." He flicks his head towards the distant campfire, its warm light clear through the darkness. "Glo doesn't either."

"Dunno about that," Hop says quietly, his shoulders tight. He saw the intensity in her gaze, saw the anger that she's never been good at hiding.

Victor heaves a heavy sigh and crosses his arms. "We thought you were angry with us, angry that we failed to protect you," he insists, and Hop chews the inside of his cheek because how could they possibly think that? They did nothing wrong.

Hop looks to the distant glow of their camp, thinking about the strange looks Gloria has been sending his way ever since the fight with Bede, and starts to chew at his lower lip. He's always thought of her as a big sister, even though she isn't that much older than he is, and he can't bear the thought of truly disappointing her.

"Come on," Victor says with a small tap on Hop's arm, following his gaze. "You know how she is. The tougher she acts, the more stressed out she is. Her hands were proper shaking earlier," he says, and the words do at least give Hop pause. "Don't... tell her I said that," he adds with another nervous glance back to camp, and Hop sighs.

He has to face the music eventually. He's been avoiding her all day.

They walk back to camp together, and Hop makes a point of sitting next to Gloria by the fire, even if it means that the smoke is going into his face a bit. He presses his knees together nervously, a silence stretching between them, awkward and uncomfortable, only being made worse by the nosy mage cuffed five feet away that's just staring at them.

The tosser should be glad he's even allowed next to the fire.

Eventually, Gloria speaks up first. "You're not leaving, are you?" she says quietly, and Hop bites his lip. Why is everyone so good at reading him today?

He takes a second to collect his thoughts. Is he still considering leaving? Going back home a failure, breaking his promise and telling his mum that he's given up, that he isn't bringing Lee back after all?

"No," he says quietly, but firmly, because it's no longer an option in his mind. He might be a failure, might be a weakling, and might be deeply incapable of helping the people he cares about, but there's no world where he gives up now, no world where he goes home with his tail between his legs without bringing Lee home.

Gloria lets out a long, heavy exhale. "Good. I told you before that I do not want to be doing this alone with that knucklehead," she says, nodding towards Victor, who sticks his tongue out at her.

And Hop just hums absently, happy to leave things there, but Gloria looks back to him, staring him down in such a scary and intense way that he really feels like he can't be blamed for thinking she's angry with him.

"I'm sorry, okay?!" she practically barks out. "I know we messed up, and—"

"It's fine!" Hop interrupts, the suddenness of his words even managing to startle himself, and he curls in on himself when everyone turns to him. "Really, I... it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have gotten in the way. I'm not... annoyed with you, or anything," he says quietly.

Gloria just looks to him, her face stony. "You know it's our responsibility to protect you, yeah?" she says, and Hop has to suppress a scoff. He doesn't want to be some damsel to be protected, not anymore.

"It's my responsibility to stay out of danger," he counters. "I should have just hid or something, or—"

"Right," Marnie says, her sharp tone cutting through the tension, and everyone turns to her. "How about... it ain't anyone's fault. Was just a bunch of honest mistakes that none of you are gonna make again. That about sum it up?"

Hop lets out a slow exhale from his nose, because... he supposes he can't really disagree with her. There's no point in talking in circles, even if he isn't as sure as Marnie is that he won't make the same mistake again. "Fine..." he says quietly, then puts out a hand for Gloria to shake.

Gloria accepts the handshake with a small nod, and Hop lets out a small breath. He just hopes that things will at least return to a semblance of normalcy between them, because the tension has been killing him.

"Finally," Bede, of all people, drawls. "I'm glad to see this pitiful spectacle over with," he says, before receiving an unapologetic clip over the head from Marnie in response.

"You'll be looking far more pitiful than them if you don't stay quiet," she says with a crack of her knuckles, and Bede makes a show of dramatically rolling his eyes but ultimately clamps his mouth shut anyway.

Later that night, Hop runs an incredulous hand down his face as he enters his tent. They've decided that it would be best if they take shifts keeping watch tonight, both to make sure that Bede doesn't try to scarper off in the middle of the night, and also to keep a lookout for anyone who may try to ambush them in the night. Because that's apparently something they have to deal with now!

He silently gives a small wave to Victor, who is on first watch because it'd be impossible to wake him up once he's out, and closes the entrance to his tent, falling hard onto his bedroll.

What was supposed to be a fun adventure with his closest friends has quickly turned into the most stressful experience of Hop's entire life.

Stars.

Stars, stars, stars, stars, as far as the eye can see, twinkling away within the inky blackness that otherwise surrounds them.

They're beautiful, Hop thinks.

And then falls.

No, not falling, he quickly realises. He's... flying. Flying through what looks to be the night sky, through what he thinks must be the- the Universe as Lee had called it. Or perhaps what he imagines it would all look like, at least, if he were physically in it.

Awe starts to settle in Hop's mind as darkness gives way to light, to colour as he sees milky streaks of white cross-crossing through the void, dusty pinks and purples and greens and blues splattered like paint over a canvas.

Oh.

Now he's falling.

His chest tightens, paralysis overcoming him as air, for the first time, starts to whips past his face, flames beginning to envelop him completely as he falls and falls and falls, unable to form a coherent thought through the clouds of his mind before he slams into the ground, a massive explosion rocking the surrounding area as the forest around him is lit aflame.

It hurts, more than anything Hop has ever felt, and yet also not at all, the sensations dull and distant.

Now, he's not completely thick. He can perhaps take the hint that whatever he's experiencing right now might not be real, punctuated more than anything by the strange sensation that he isn't himself at all, but he barely has any time to think about it before he feels the hands on him, the dirty, dirty hands that have gripped so hard onto him and won't let go, no matter how hard he tries to thrash from their grip.

He feels himself screech, feels it rather than hears it as they start to drag him away, deep down into the depths of the earth itself, somewhere that he knows that he doesn't belong.

A mimicry of tears start to prick within things that aren't quite eyes as the walls start to close in, closer and closer until he feels as if they couldn't close in anymore, and he can feel countless eyes watching him, cold and calculating. He tries to scream, but no sound comes out, wants to break out of whatever cage he's been trapped in, but he can't, and so he tries to wail, to appeal in any way he can because he needs to get out—

The first truly conscious thing he feels as Hop, is the tight grip of a hand wrapped around his wrist, and the suffocating tightness in his chest.

With heavy, desperate breaths, his eyes dart around to take in his surroundings.

Translucent tent walls, once white, now mud-stained and slightly faded; the orange, warm-looking firelight faintly visible through them.

His bedroll beneath him, having been haphazardly thrown down and not properly unfolded due to his earlier exhaustion, providing little comfort to him now.

And Marnie, leering down towards him with an unimpressed look on her face.

"Am I ever gonna be allowed to wake you up without you going for my throat?" she says, shaking her head incredulously, and Hop can't even think to suppress the squeak that pours from his lips.

"S-sorry!" he thankfully manages to whisper-shout, only remembering at the last moment that the twins are surely still asleep.

Marnie silently releases her grip, and Hop takes in a few stuttering breaths. The walls of the tent around him are far too evocative of the dream he just had, so he's eager to get out of here.

Because that's all it was. A dream.

That's all it could have been.

"Oi," Marnie says, clicking a finger in front of his eyes, her nose wrinkled as she remains kneeling in the entrance to his tent. "S'your turn to keep watch, but if you ain't feeling up for it—"

"No, no, it's fine!" Hop raises his hands, already moving to lift himself up. "Don't think I can sleep after..." He trails off quietly, swallowing and biting his lip as he averts eye contact.

He doesn't want to talk about it.

Marnie thankfully takes the hint and just gives him a small, understanding nod before shuffling herself backwards and out of the tent. He's come to like that about her. He feels like she's more willing to let things go than the twins, even if it's likely because they're only maybe sort-of friends and not, well... practically family.

No, they're definitely family, Hop thinks. He'd gotten all flustered when their mum declared as such, but no other word feels quite right.

Rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, Hop allows himself just the briefest of moments to get himself together before following Marnie out. He rolls his shoulders once he's on his feet, quickly spotting Marnie patiently awaiting him near the fire.

"Fair warning," she says, fidgeting with her sleeves that are slightly too long for her. "He's been dead quiet, but he's spent the whole time just leerin' at me like a bloody Noctowl."

Hop's brows knit in confusion for a moment, and then he has to suppress a groan, his still half-asleep mind only now remembering the reason why they're keeping watch in the first place. If he's being honest, he might just prefer to confront the horrors that lie within his nightmares all over again if it's between that and dealing with Bede for the next couple of hours.

"S'fine," he says instead, because he's not about to start complaining when Marnie surely wants to just go to sleep.

Marnie hums. "Just make sure you scream if you see trouble," she says, and Hop gives a thumbs up despite the grimace that settles on his lips. He supposes there isn't much else he can do. She then gives a tiny wave before sauntering over to her tent, stretching her arms above her head and yawning before crouching down and crawling in.

Hop sighs, taking care to keep his gaze pointed down as he takes a seat next to the fire, which seems to be burning nicely. Marnie must have collected some extra wood while she had the chance, based on the sizable pile of fuel nearby. He'll have to thank her in the morning.

It doesn't take long for Hop's eyes to accidentally meet Bede's own from across the fire, his brow knitted into a deep scowl, pointed directly towards him. Hop just silently averts his gaze, keeping his face as stony as possible because he wants to give him as little attention as possible.

The fire crackles between them, and Hop closes his eyes, choosing to focus on the pleasant warmth in front of him and the distant chirping of bugs instead of the mage sitting on the other side of the flames.

"You shouldn't trust her."

Hop's eyes shoot open, before narrowing. Now he decides to be talkative? After hours of silence?

He exhales slowly through his nose as he considers Bede's words. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who he's referring to, but...

"Who?" he asks anyway.

Bede sniffs, a sour expression on his face as he looks away and into the darkness around them. "The Spikemuthian," he says simply. "There's nothing you can trust about that lot."

Hop lets out a disbelieving scoff. "That's funny, 'cause she said the same about you," he says pointedly. He doesn't mean to take sides in this whole feud, but ultimately, one of them has been helping them survive in the wilds, has possibly saved their lives several times over, while the other was slinging spells at his bloody head just earlier today.

A small, humourless laugh drifts from Bede's lips, its sound mocking and melodic. "Oh, I'm sure," he drawls, a malicious gleam in his eyes as he leans forward. "I bet she's told you the sob story of what the big, bad mages did to her precious city," he practically coos.

Hop grits his teeth and looks away. "She's said enough," he spits back, fists clenched at his sides because he's tempted to go for the punch he messed up earlier all over again. Bede might be too young to have been involved, but if he can't even manage some sympathy for what happened, he might be even more of a lost cause than Hop thought.

"Has she?"

Hop flinches, eyes darting to Bede and to the smirk that's now plastered on his stupid face. "What... do you mean?" Hop says, and the second he says it, Bede chuckles to himself, and Hop knows that he's fallen into some sort of trap.

"Given that you're still choosing to even keep her around, I'm quite sure there's a lovely little detail she's neglected to mention to you all." Amusement glitters within Bede's eyes, and Hop bites down softly on his tongue in an attempt to temper his curiosity. He knows that Bede's words are likely bait, that they're merely an attempt to sow doubt between them, but...

"And what—"

"Oh, no," Bede interrupts, his smirk widening enough to show teeth as he leans back, clearly relishing the hold he currently has over Hop. "I'm sure you'll find out for yourself soon enough."

A low growl rumbles from Hop's throat. Smug, self-satisfied prick...

His fingers curl anxiously against his trousers, unable to keep still as he replays his conversation with Marnie in his mind. Bede is surely just trying to get into his head, but Hop can't stop the questions that have started to bubble up within him, that have begun to form deep roots within his mind. He's always been insufferably curious, and he thinks he hates that fact right now more than he ever has before.

Silence overcomes them once again as Hop slowly calms himself down, leaning his face into his hand and rubbing his eyes sleepily with the other. He'd immediately volunteered for one of the middle shifts when they were talking earlier, had insisted that Victor and Gloria have the bookend shifts to ensure they have as much undisturbed sleep as possible. He feels a bit bad for Marnie, but she hadn't seemed to mind.

Needless to say though, he didn't exactly have the best sleep while he had the chance, and he doubts he'll sleep at all once Gloria takes over. Tomorrow will likely be a long and difficult day.

"You were dreaming," Bede says, his voice piercing through Hop's vaguely grumpy thoughts.

Now, don't get him wrong, he's always down for a chat with just about anyone, but talking about the nightmares that have plagued him as of late with a, frankly, incredibly annoying mage who tried to murder him is really pushing it.

Still... he'll take a chatty Bede over the one that keeps telling him his hair is stupid and ugly and purple any day of the week.

"Had a bit of a nightmare, that's all," he says simply, tempted to make it abundantly clear to Bede that it wasn't about him, because he seems the sort to relish such an idea.

Bede just snorts and shakes his head. "Considering your scuffle with little Ms Spikemuth, I'm afraid I disagree," he says, an infuriating smirk dancing on his lips once again.

Hop grimaces. He hadn't realised that whatever it was he did in his post-dream stupor had been bad enough for Bede to have noticed, let alone be considered a scuffle. The list of things he needs to apologise to Marnie for seems to only grow longer by the day.

He swallows down his 'mind your own business you annoying twat' and chooses to roll his eyes instead. "Just think the stress of travelling is getting to me," he says, unsure if he even believes his own words, and even more unsure as to why he's even bothering to entertain this conversation.

"I do rather imagine that it's all quite the culture shock to a bumpkin such as you," Bede says, and Hop scoffs as he turns away because he has no intent on deigning such utter rubbish with a reply, even if Bede technically isn't wrong.

Is the stress of travelling getting to him? He supposes it is, but it'd be a lie to say that he isn't also having some of the best times of his life seeing new places with Vic and Glo, actually making a new friend for the first time in essentially his entire life with Marnie.

It was all squandered a bit when the bastard across the fire from him started chucking magic at his head, though.

Hop thinks that's the end of things, until said bastard speaks up once again.

"You may... speak of it. If you'd like."

Bede's eyes are trained to the fire, his posture tight and rigid, and his lips pressed into a thin line—likely out of discomfort over the surely fake concern he's trying to show right now.

"And let you know my deepest, darkest secrets?" Hop shakes his head. "Gonna give that one a pass, mate."

Bede sneers, his shoulders raising in a way that makes Hop think that he's trying to cross his arms, but can't. "Suit yourself, bumpkin."

Wanker, Hop thinks.

He can't help but suddenly feel as if he's being the unreasonable one here, though.

He sighs softly to himself. In either case, the last thing he wants to do right now is regurgitate the dreadful sensations his sleeping mind decided to conjure up for him, but Bede's words have already done exactly that. He has to suppress a shudder as he imagines it all, imagines the suffocating feeling of being dragged deep underground, the walls seemingly closing in on him, and hands, hands, so many hands touching him, the images all feeling real in a way he's never experienced before.

Eventually though, his thoughts drift back to the beginning, to when he was peacefully floating amongst the stars, the scene silent and peaceful, of the sense of belonging he'd felt in his heart.

Maybe... maybe it wasn't all so bad.

"You look up to the sky a lot," Bede says quietly, jolting Hop from his reverie. He's only now realising how his head has slowly swivelled upward, to the thing that's brought him so much comfort on cold, lonely nights.

When Hop looks to him, Bede's eyes are probing, and the way his brows have raised seems just about genuine enough that Hop can at least perhaps pretend that it's because of legitimate interest on Bede's part.

"The stars are pretty tonight," he says, as if they're ever not pretty other than on overcast nights where they aren't there at all, the words pouring from his mouth before he can even truly think about who he's actually talking to. He lets out a harsh exhale from his nose as he lowers his head, fully expecting Bede to call him pathetic or worse, but...

A grimace lands on Bede's lips, and then he follows Hop's gaze to the countless stars above. His throat bobs as he swallows, and then he shakes his head and tsks. "Can't say I much care for it all," he says, and Hop can't stop his shoulders from slumping in disappointment. As if he needed more of a reason to dislike Bede. Though it's not as if anyone seems to truly share his love for the night sky.

"It's calming," Hop argues, but the fight leaves him almost immediately. "It's just... nice to look at the sky at night, for it to always be the same no matter how different things down here get." Such feelings have only intensified now that he's no longer in Postwick.

He lifts a finger up in front of his eyes, tracing it through the sky as he looks for a cluster that he recognises, a small smile landing on his face when he does. "There's a bunch of them that look like a pan there, in the same place as always, even though I'm so far away from home," he says, trying to ignore the feeling of embarrassment bubbling inside him because he knows that, in the grand scheme of things, he's not very far away from home at all.

Bede flashes Hop a disbelieving look for a moment before tilting his head back up again, frowning when he spots the cluster he'd been referring to. He lets out a small puff of air through his nose as his head tilts back down, towards the fire, and to the earth. "Rose would like you..." he murmurs.

And Hop feels the air go cold.

He knew. He knew all along. But the confirmation still sends a chill down his spine anyway.

Anger immediately starts to boil up within Hop's gut. "Why is he—" He takes in a sharp breath in an attempt to calm himself, gritting his teeth as he looks to the tents, hoping that he didn't wake anyone. Once he sees that he thankfully hasn't, he reaffixes his gaze to the mage through the flames. "What does he want with us?"

Bede scoffs, not as bothered by his slip of the tongue as Hop had been expecting. "You're familiar with him, then? I'd have thought a bumpkin like you would have your head in the sand over Galar's saviour, like you are with everything else."

"Never seen sand in my life, mate," Hop counters, purposefully obtuse, and Bede splutters.

"That's not—" He grinds his teeth together before scoffing again. "He has better things to do than care about people like you," he spits, eyes drifting to the tents in a way that makes it clear that his words include the other as well. "It's the weapons that he's interested in."

Hop snorts bitterly, because Rose doesn't necessarily even want them dead? "And that's it?" he barks out. "You tried to kill us because—"

"I wasn't trying to kill you."

Hop throws his hands into the air in disbelief. "Are you having a laugh? It seemed an awful lot like you were trying to kill us from where I was standing. You know, in your bloody line of fire?"

Bede just hums, his hands twisting idly within their shackles, forming similar shapes as the ones Hop saw earlier in their battle, though thankfully without any actual magic this time. "They would've just put you to sleep if they'd hit you," he insists, and snorts when Hop's scowl deepens, raising up his bound hands. "If you take these off, I can prove it to you."

"Nice try, arsehole." Honestly, the absolute nerve of this bloke.

"It was, wasn't it?" Bede says, visibly preening as if it were an actual compliment. Hop rolls his eyes, because he's really not sure he's ever met anyone even close to being like Bede in his entire life.

Hop crosses his arms over his chest. Obviously Bede is lying. Hop is far from an expert on magic, but it seems difficult to believe that the beams that were taking out entire trees would have been so harmless had they hit a person—something they thankfully didn't do.

"So what does he want the weapons for, then?" Hop asks, not allowing their little back-and-forth to steer them off track. He's not sure if he's the right person to be doing all this interrogating, but he's already gotten more out of Bede than anyone else has all day.

Bede huffs in a way that makes it clear that he had definitely hoped that this conversation was already over. "He doesn't intend to use them, if that's what you're thinking," He gives an unbothered wave of his hands, but Hop knows a bothered-looking face when he sees one.

"Oh yeah?" Hop says disbelievingly. "Can't imagine many other reasons why a bloke would want to get his mitts on a pair of super powerful magical weapons."

"Exactly," Bede says pointedly, and Hop frowns in confusion. "Weapons such as those are dangerous, and should be taken from fools who don't know what they're doing."

Hop swallows. "You called them false heroes," he states plainly, the words having echoed in the back of his mind ever since he first heard Bede say them.

"Because that's exactly what they are," Bede says, his nose curling into a disdainful sneer. "All this inane drivel about prophecy has surely filled their minds with delusions that they're destined to fight some mystical threat that, to put it simply, does not exist." He shifts in place as he looks solidly to Hop. "Galar has never been safer than it is now, and their fantasies risk upsetting the balance of power of the entire region."

"Oh, and I'm sure your precious Rose would hate that," Hop says with a shake of his head. Of course someone as supposedly powerful as him is trembling as soon as something is out of his control.

"Yes, he would," Bede says through gritted teeth, "because he has the region's best interests at heart."

"So what does he plan to do with them then?" Hop says, impatience beginning to settle in. "Other than just nick them from us?"

Bede scoffs and crosses his arms. "He intends to study them, to see if the magic within can be used for the betterment of Galar. And if not..." He trails off, looking into the darkness around them. "Then I suppose they'll be locked away."

Hop lets out an incredulous scoff. He's often not very good at picking up certain things in conversation, but even he can hear how unsure Bede sounds. "You don't even know what the bastard wants them for, do you?" he says, and immediately sees fury burn within Bede's eyes.

"Of course I do!" he hisses. "I'm one of his closest confidants, and you'd do better to put some respect upon his name, because Galar has progressed more in the last ten years than in entire centuries under his watch!"

Hop just grimaces over Bede's outburst, and turns away. Whatever. Whether he has Galar's best interests at heart or not, he'd rather quite prefer it if this Rose bloke maybe came for them himself instead of sending some stupid lackey, and he isn't feeling much enthusiasm over the idea of Bede attacking them for some supposed greater good.

"He saved me," Bede says quietly as his eyes gaze deeply into the fire, and that catches Hop's attention again. "He brought me up from nothing." He lifts his head, the flames of the campfire dancing within his irises. "And I will not allow the likes of you to change my mind on him."

"Think whatever you like, mate," Hop shoots back. He doesn't especially care about what Bede believes, but if he's being honest, the sheer conviction in Bede's tone has left him feeling a bit rattled. He's not sure if he himself holds such strong feelings for anything other than his family.

Bede just scoffs weakly, silence slowly overcoming them once again as Bede's harsh, angry breathing starts to normalise again. He's swaying slightly in place, Hop notices, his exhaustion clear in his slumped posture and hazy eyes.

Hop purses his lips, unable to stop the concern that's starting to bubble up inside him. "Are you... feeling okay now?" he eventually asks, receiving a confused look in response. "After your whole..." He gestures vaguely to his nose because he has no idea what to actually call what happened to Bede earlier.

Bede scowls, seemingly not appreciating the reminder. "Peachy," he spits, but the vitriol only makes it more clear just how tired he is when it all nearly causes him to topple over.

"Why don't you just go to sleep—"

"Perhaps I don't want to," Bede snarls back, before leaning back as if to put as much distance between them as possible. "And I don't need to explain anything to you."

Hop lets out a frustrated exhale, because now Bede is just being difficult for the sake of it.

He purses his lips as he looks to the camp around them. The fire is nice enough, but sleeping directly on the ground here seems far from ideal, with small stones and kicked-up dirt everywhere. And that's without mentioning the fact that he would obviously still need to be watched. Hop looks to Bede, and although he thinks he might hate him, hates the confusing mess of emotions that's been warring inside him ever since he and Bede first met...

His mother has always taught him to be kind.

"Look..." he starts quietly. "If you'd like to, you can sleep in my tent." He puts his hands out defensively when Bede just silently sends a deep scowl his way. "You look exhausted, mate. We're gonna be doing a whole bunch of walking tomorrow while we figure out what to do with you, and there's no point in you being dead on your feet."

They haven't spoken too much about their plans with Bede, but Marnie is quite insistent on not turning back to Motostoke to turn him in to the authorities, and Hop isn't sure he's too enthused by the idea of adding even more time to their journey either.

"Figure out what to do with me..." Bede echoes mockingly, before shaking his head and taking in a small breath. "Like a prisoner getting taken to execution."

Hop's eyes widen into saucers, because despite everything that's happened between them, he has absolutely no desire for such an awful thing as that to happen.

"Listen, mate... contrary to what you might think, it's not like we want to bloody hurt you or anything." Well, Marnie might, but she's a bit outnumbered in that aspect. And even still, he's sure that all Marnie wants to do is give Bede a smack over the head whenever he acts up.

Which, well... maybe he should stop letting her do even that, he thinks, now that the worst of his own anger has dissipated.

"Pretty sure we're just gonna drop you off at the next town or whatever," he continues, then shrugs. Wherever that's supposed to be. He just hopes it's sooner than Turffield. "Just to make sure you don't attack us again."

Bede is silent for a long while, his hands clamped together, and his shoulder tight. "And what exactly..." he eventually starts, swallowing heavily before raising his head and meeting Hop's gaze, "do you think happens to mages who misbehave?"

Hop's face cracks, everything he's ever heard about what the mages once suffered through filling his mind. Things might not be so bad anymore, but he can't imagine that whatever protections have been put in place extend to those who cause trouble.

Maybe he deserves it, Hop thinks for a fleeting moment. Maybe he doesn't, is the thought that immediately follows.

In either case, he has no desire for such justice to be brought down in his name.

Hop wets his suddenly dry-feeling lips. "If I promise not to let that happen... will you cooperate with us from now on?" He might be far from happy with what Bede did, but he doesn't want any harm to befall him. It's just not the sort of person he is.

Bede blinks, eyes narrowing as he seemingly scans Hop's features, as if expecting some sort of trick, but when he apparently finds no indication of deception, he lets out a quiet sigh. "Perhaps... I'd be willing to be slightly less combatative if that were the case," he says, and then frowns upon seeing the grin that breaks out on Hop's face. "I'd like to make it abundantly clear that I am only accepting these terms because a bumpkin such as you is likely physically incapable of deception," he adds, and Hop rolls his eyes.

"Aye, whatever, mate..." he says with a wave of his hand. Seems like being 'less combatative' doesn't mean he intends to stop throwing insults at him. Though, for whatever reason, Bede's words don't feel like they sting as much as they previously did.

Maybe it's partly because he looks so knackered that he might topple over while snarling away like a disgruntled Yamper.

"Something funny?" There's a challenge in Bede's eyes, and Hop tries to stifle his snicker with his palm, but isn't very successful.

"Nothing, nothing..." Hop says airily, thankful for at least some brevity between them, but it'd likely be best not to infuriate Bede any further or he might literally explode—a possibility that doesn't seem too far-fetched considering that his brain apparently starts to fry if he shoots too much bloody magic out of his hands.

Hop tilts his head as he looks back to Bede once again. "Offer still stands, y'know. About sleeping in my tent." He nods his head vaguely behind him. "I'll keep watch for you while I'm up," he adds.

Bede raises an eyebrow, clearly interested even though he's trying to hide it. "And when your shift is over? What then?" he says, and Hop shrugs.

"I'll just go into Glo's tent. She won't mind." Well, she might mind a bit, but not enough to stop him. Bede scowls on impact, and Hop tries to put his hands out soothingly. "Look, I promise it'll be fine, alright?"

Indecision visibly wars on Bede's face, until his shoulders eventually droop. "Fine..." he says, quieter than Hop has ever heard him, and Hop beams.

"Great!" he says, already standing to escort Bede to his tent. "Err... do me a favour and don't go through my stuff, yeah?" he says, and Bede rolls his eyes.

"I have better things to do than rummage through some bumpk—" He takes in a breath. "Through your stuff," he says instead, and Hop really does his best to mask how pleased he is that Bede is actually trying to be less of a prick, lest the Yamper start gnawing at his ankles.

"Alright, well... good night!" Hop chirps as he gives a small wave, his mood having brightened now that he's managed to tame this problem at least a bit.

Bede turns in the entrance to the tent, his mouth opening slightly before closing again. Then, he gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before entering.

Once the flap is closed, Hop lets out a heavy exhale, sitting back down near the fire. He runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't know why he's doing this, caring so much about someone who clearly doesn't care about him, and calling that bloke hard work would be an understatement, but...

He can't bring himself to hate him. He just isn't the sort to hold such grudges, which is maybe a bit stupid of a thing to say when Bede hasn't even apologised in the slightest, but whatever.

An especially chilly gust of wind tears through the camp, cold enough to make Hop shiver, and he pulls the front of his woolly jacket over his torso, cosying up into it as much as he can.

His head is starting to nod by the time sunlight starts to creep over the horizon, the black of night turning to a deep, dark blue, and the stars above beginning to fade away. Now seems as good a time as any for the end of his shift, so he approaches Gloria's tent, opening the flap before whispering her name, her eyes immediately opening. She's as alert as always, even in sleep, evidently.

He gives her a brief moment to rouse herself properly, and within a minute she's crawling out of the tent, tying her hair back. She looks to the campfire, alarm flashing across her face. "Where is—"

"He's fine," Hop says, before quickly realising that she's definitely not asking about Bede's health. "He's... he's in my tent. Sleeping. So if you could give him an extra hour or so before waking everyone..." He trails off, cheeks and ears heating up as he avoids eye contact.

Confusion initially flickers across Gloria's face, but then she smiles. "Alright," she says simply, then shakes her head affectionately. "You really can make friends with anyone, can't you?"

"We're not—" he splutters, sticking out his lower lip. "We're not friends. I just... managed to get him to quit being such a twat, that's all."

Gloria snorts. "Sure," she says before strutting past him towards the fire, and Hop huffs. They aren't friends!

He crouches into the entrance of Gloria's tent, mouthing a "Can I?" in her direction before taking the roll of her eyes as a yes and entering it properly.

When Hop's body hits bedroll, he frowns when he realises that Gloria's is far more comfy than his, the fabric soft and supple beneath his touch.

Utter bollocks, he thinks, before closing his eyes, already feeling the clutches of sleep in the back of his mind, drifting away into what he hopes will be a dreamless sleep, while he has the chance.

A soft sigh escapes Hop's lips as he slowly wakes from a dreamless sleep—a rare occurrence these days. He knows he doesn't have time to wallow around, that they likely need to get a move on, but...

Comfy.

He buries himself further into the furs. Victor probably isn't awake yet anyway, knowing him, so he can have a nice, lovely lie-in, and—

His stomach growls. Loudly. Partly because he's always starving in the mornings, and partly because the smell that's currently wafting in gently through the small gaps of his tent might just be the best thing to ever enter his nose.

In no time at all, Hop is poking his head through the tent's opening, eyes widening when he spots Victor stirring a pot over the campfire, seemingly wide awake before him for the first time in their entire lives. Victor's eyes dart from the pot to meet Hop's gaze, and he gives a small wave with a grin, seemingly too focused on his cooking for much else.

Hop rubs at his eyes. Maybe he's hallucinating. Maybe his sleep-addled brain has conjured up some strange, otherworldly fantasy of a breakfast more pleasant than some nuts and dried fruit. It's strange that Victor, of all people, is the mythical cook his mind created.

His hands fumble around for his day clothes for longer than he'd like to admit before he remembers. Right. Glo's tent.

Stumbling out gracelessly in the clothes he wore to bed, still groggy, Hop quickly spots the sun high up in the sky and scrunches up his nose. It's midday. He supposes that explains why Victor is up before him—they all allowed him to oversleep.

He's a bit too preoccupied with other things to think too much about it, though.

"What's uhh... what's cooking?" he asks, practically drooling—no, definitely drooling at the sight of whatever golden goodness it is that's getting stirred in the pot. The sight of it is almost hypnotic, and the only thing stopping him from sticking his head and gulping it down by the mouthful is the fact that he's sure the burns he'd receive would be quite unpleasant.

Gloria snorts, Hop having been so focused on the food that he'd barely even realised that she was here. "Victor's decided to pick up a new hobby," she says teasingly, nudging Victor with her elbow.

"Stop trying to distract me..." Victor murmurs quietly, tongue sticking out in concentration as he continues to stir, stir, and stir. "S'curry," he eventually answers. "Some lady from another region was running a stall in Motostoke. Bought some spices from her, and she gave me a quick lesson on how to make it."

"Oh, what region was she from?" Hop asks, curiosity immediately piqued. He'd loved hearing about Hoenn from Kabu, even loved hearing what little Sonia had taught him—even if her own knowledge was limited to nearer regions like Kalos and Paldea.

But Victor doesn't reply, the only indicator that he'd heard Hop say anything at all being the slightest pinch in his brow as he maintains his gaze towards the pot.

"You don't actually think he was listening, do you?" Gloria says with a snicker, and Hop groans because of course he wasn't. It's a miracle that Vic even remembers how to bloody make the curry, if he isn't already making it up as he goes along.

Well, in either case... if he is just improvising, it smells absolutely fantastic, so he's not about to argue.

Hop plops himself next to the fire, his eyes fluttering shut as he slowly allows himself to come around. Motostoke feels like an eternity ago now that they're back on the road, its filthy streets and awful, awful smells a distant-seeming memory.

Good riddance, if he's being honest. Sorry, Kabu.

There's a shift of movement to his right. Hop opens his eyes, quickly spotting Bede scowling at him. He's sat awkwardly so that he's near the campfire but not facing towards it out of what almost looks to be some sort of protest. Actually, scratch that, definitely out of some sort of protest, because if there's anything he's already learned about Bede, it's that he's a deeply petty person.

But Hop supposes he hasn't been called an ugly, useless farmboy yet, so their deal must still be on. So instead of sticking out his tongue like he's tempted to, Hop grins and gives an overly eager wave, simply receiving a scoff in response.

It only takes a few minutes for Victor to start ladling the curry into tins, ones so small that Hop already knows he'll be going back in for seconds and maybe also thirds. He's about to dig in with his bare hands when Victor hands out a wooden spoon towards him, a grimace on his face. Hop rolls his eyes but accepts it. Seems like Victor has become a bit of a snob all of the sudden.

"You're taking this seriously, eh?" Hop says with a teasing smirk that quickly turns to something more genuine. Victor seems to be genuinely enjoying himself, so he doesn't want to go in too hard.

"The lady reckons it's best with bread," Victor says, seemingly unbothered. "These flat ones." He draws a vague shape with his fingers, as if that helps at all, then he pouts, letting out a wistful-sounding sigh. "She didn't have any of those, though. And baking bread is a bit out of my wheelhouse."

"So you were listening to some of the stuff she was saying then, eh?" Hop says, unable to stop himself, though he's surprised Gloria didn't beat him to it.

Victor rolls his eyes with a huff. "Mostly the stuff about food..." he admits quietly, and Hop snickers into his palm, scooting a little bit closer.

"Baking bread on the road is a bit ambitious, but I bet you could figure it out!" he chirps, wrapping an arm around Victor's shoulder with a grin.

Victor stiffens slightly at the contact, his mouth hanging open slightly for a moment before he looks away, his fingers idly wrapping around the hilt of the Sword. "I think... we've got some more pressing issues than bread, Hop," he murmurs. Hop's brow creases into a frown, but Victor shoves a tin into his hands before he can speak up. "C'mon. Eat up."

Hop silently accepts the tin. He wants to argue, but he can barely think straight now that the curry is in his hands; he's just so bloody hungry.

Put a pin in it, he supposes. He can take the hint that Victor doesn't really want to talk about it, so he shakes his head, eyes drifting over to Gloria to see that the reason she's been so quiet is that she's already halfway through her own serving of curry. Which means it must be good.

It's like there's an explosion of flavour on his tongue—unbelievably savoury with just a little bit of sweetness underneath it, and all of it brought together by the medley of herbs and spices. Hop lets out a slow exhale as he holds it in his mouth for as long as he can manage before his stomach gets too impatient, and swallows.

"Best thing I've eaten in my entire bloody life," he says, before immediately stuffing his mouth with more.

And Victor beams.

The sight makes Hop feel giddy, and so he beams back. There's nothing he wants more than for his friends to be happy, and if complimenting Victor's cooking every day for the rest of his life is what it'll take to keep that smile plastered on Victor's face, then that's what it'll take.

Plus, that'd mean that he'd be eating Victor's cooking every day as well, so that's a very happy life, in his mind.

"Reckon we should ban Marnie from the pot from now on," Gloria says with a small smile, the words maybe the closest thing to a genuine compliment Hop thinks he's ever heard her send in Victor's direction.

The smile Victor sends her way is smaller than the one Hop saw, but he thinks that the red colour that already dusted Victor's cheeks from the heat of the flames has darkened just that little bit more.

"Where is Marnie, anyway?" Hop asks. He'd noticed her absence, but his roaring stomach and drooling mouth has taken up most of his attention this morning.

"You know how she is," Gloria says, which Hop thinks is code for who bloody knows. It wouldn't be the first time she's disappeared and returned with nary a reason, so Hop just hums.

The three of them continue to eat their meals in relative silence, and Hop is, as he predicted, going on for seconds, when Victor speaks up.

"Does... does the mage want some?"

Hop's eyes widen, and he turns his head to where Bede still sits, fully turned away now. He'd completely forgotten about him for a moment there, and he gets the impression that Bede is actually quite adept at not being seen if he doesn't want to be. He'd managed to disappear in an instant after leaving the shop in Motostoke after all.

"Err..." Hop ekes out before realising there's only one person who can actually answer that question. "Bede, do you want—"

"No."

The reply is terse and clipped in a way that causes a terrible feeling to bubble up in Hop's gut, because it's an immediate reminder of their positions.

The fingers of Hop's free hand dig into his palm. He hates this. Hates everything about it. He didn't come on this journey to take anyone prisoner, feels like an absolute monster for holding someone against their will. He's not sure when everything turned so serious.

He supposes it was probably always supposed to be serious. He just couldn't see it, struggles to see it even now.

"C'mon..." he says weakly. "You need to eat." It's a fact of life after all, though Hop isn't sure if he'd have much of an appetite in Bede's place either.

Bede just sniffs. A dismissal, Hop thinks, but he's never been much of a good listener. While Victor eats his own serving, Hop takes it upon himself to plate up a tin for Bede, then hesitantly places it next to him.

A beat passes, then another as Bede looks down to the tin, and then up to Hop's face, looking somehow even angrier than before, and Hop slowly realises the problem.

He coughs into his elbow, cheeks heating up a storm because Bede can't bloody eat while wearing those shackles, can he? Which means...

"I could—"

"No," Bede interrupts. "You will not."

"Come on, Bede!" Hop whines, the spoon scraping along the bottom of the tin as he starts to prepare a mouthful. "I ain't letting you bloody starve to death!"

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much," Bede barks back, and Hop isn't sure he especially agrees, considering that Bede already didn't look especially well-fed even back in Motostoke.

Bede turns himself away, and Hop grits his teeth in frustration, tears starting to bubble up in the corners of his eyes because he can't stand this, can't stand it because it feels like everything they're doing to him is utter cruelty.

Bede tried to kill them, his brain supplies, but the thought does little to assuage his guilt.

It just isn't right.

"Maybe we could just take them off for a bit—"

"You definitely bloody won't."

Hop spins around, immediately spotting Marnie, having clearly returned while he was distracted. "But—!"

"No," she says firmly, a glint of what looks an awful lot like contempt in her eyes as she trains her gaze onto Hop. "You've seen what he's capable of, and if he ain't going to let himself get fed like a little baby, then that's his problem."

"For once, it seems the Spikemuthian and I are in agreement," Bede drawls, and Hop can't believe what he's hearing. Why would Bede put himself through this? Just to bloody guilt-trip him for something he doesn't even want to do?

Hop shakes his head bitterly, his second serving of curry remaining untouched as he storms off before he says something he'll regret. Or maybe he wouldn't regret it, because out of all the hardships he's experienced since leaving home, it's the utter callousness that's come to be expected of him that's affecting him the most.

As tempting as it is for him to go take a walk, he instead chooses to crawl into his tent and busy himself with getting his stuff together. Or at least pretend to while he staves off the tears that so desperately want to fall.

Maybe it's an unkind thought, but he doesn't want to be like Marnie, doesn't want to be like Bede either, and frankly, it's starting to scare him how prepared even Glo is for a fight whenever a threat arises.

The tears start to fall in earnest, and he buries his face into his bedroll. He's sick of feeling like he's being talked down to, as if he's just naïve for trying his honest best to be nice to people, that it's simply weakness on his part rather than a simple fact of who he is.

He already feels himself changing out here. And he hates it.

It doesn't take long after they pack up camp and set off on the road for it to start raining.

Hop isn't going to complain about it, though. He's tough, he's strong. And strong people don't complain when they get their way.

"It's going to be a cold one tonight," Gloria comments idly to what seems like no one in particular, but Hop notices the faint flicker of her eyes towards him.

Hop just hums in response.

Not much longer after that, Hop's clothes are completely soaked through, and he's starting to feel a chill in his bones as the rain only worsens. He can't help but wonder if it'd be better to just hunker down and set up camp again, even if it means little progress on their journey today. But he's not going to be the one to suggest it.

And by the sound of things, neither is anyone else.

Hop's eyes drift to Bede, who is walking just ahead of him in the marching order. With such a wide-brimmed hat, he's the only one who isn't soaked through. Swings and roundabouts, he supposes.

After a couple hours of what Hop isn't especially hesitant to call torture, he realises quite late that they're already making their way into some semblance of civilisation, the prospect of getting out of this weather causing a warmth to bloom within him.

"Is this Turffield?" he asks through chattering teeth as he looks to the houses around them, even though a part of him knows it's not.

"Still another few days yet," Marnie replies quickly, her voice sounding surprisingly patient for the fact that they both know that she's made that fact abundantly clear by now. Maybe the opportunity to get out of this awful rain has lifted her mood as well. "Just some hamlet," she adds, and Hop wonders whether she'd think so dismissively of Postwick if she were ever to visit. Then she turns and looks Bede up and down. "Ace opportunity to drop the dead weight, I reckon."

Hop's chest tightens, whatever warmth he was feeling internally fading away quickly because her words are far too evocative of his own internal monologue, and a thought that's been lingering in the back of his mind suddenly comes to the forefront.

How long until she realises that he's dead weight as well?

Bede remains silent, his head pointed firmly towards the ground and his face obscured by the brim of his hat, but the rigidity of his posture tells Hop everything he needs to know about how Bede feels about the situation.

Marnie has already approached a man standing beneath a shelter, and Hop would follow more closely behind her to get at least a bit of a reprieve from the rain if the look of the man didn't unsettle him so much.

"Is there anywhere we can stay the night here?" Marnie asks him, and while Hop is glad she's asking the important questions first, he's immediately disappointed by the shake of the man's head.

"Naw. Keep on the road and you'll reach an inn before tonight, though."

Irritation immediately bubbles in Hop's gut, because it doesn't seem right to turn people away when things are this bad. But he doesn't complain, pushing it all back down.

Marnie just gives the man a nod. "Fine, but we've got a mage here in shackles. Reckon you could at least hole him up somewhere 'til some soldiers come through?"

The man perks up, eyes immediately darting to Bede and his flamboyant garb, then to the manacles still glowing a faint purple around his wrists. "Oh? And what's he been up to, eh?" he says, lips curling into a wolfish grin. Marnie shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the change in the air.

"Attacked us on the road," she says simply, checking her nails. "So can you deal with him or what?"

"Aye," the man quickly replies, suddenly awful helpful, apparently. "We can deal with 'im."

And Hop catches the double meaning, he catches it, but the man moves before he can even react.

Bede lets out a pained sound as the man's fist makes contact with his jaw. His knees immediately buckle, and he falls down into the mud.

And then Hop reacts.

Before he can even think, Hop's hand grips onto the man's shoulder, using the weight of the man's own body to swing him around. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" he shouts, throat already stinging because he never shouts. Not like this.

The man bares his teeth at him, a dangerous look in his eyes that makes it clear that he's more than happy for Hop to be next on his list. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he counters, taking a step closer, and a part of Hop knows he should back down, that there's a very real chance of him coming out of this with a dislocated jaw or worse, but—

"What's wrong with me is that you need to get your filthy mitts off of him!" Hop places himself firmly between the man and Bede, his heart hammering in his chest.

"You're defending filth like him?" The man snarls before spitting on Bede, who stays unmoving on the ground, as if he already knows what will happen if he dared to do a thing.

And it makes Hop's blood boil.

"Get away from him!" he practically screams, fists clenched because he might be more ready for an honest to gods fight than he's ever been in his entire life. "Lay a bloody finger on him again, and see what happens," he says, but his voice cracks, and his hands are shaking, gods why won't they stop shaking? He's just so angry, so scared, and—

The man's own fists clench, as if about to swing for him, but then his jaw tightens as he looks distinctly behind Hop. To what exactly, he isn't sure, because he's unwilling to take his eyes off the threat in front of him. A beat passes, and then the man growls, before spitting in Bede's direction once again and walking away out into the rain.

And Hop's knees immediately give out, because he's quite sure he just came close to getting his head punched off of his shoulders. The mud squelches beneath him as his knees dig into it, and he's trying to control his breathing, but—

He feels a supportive hand land on his shoulder, one of the twins', he's sure, and lets out a shuddering exhale as he slowly calms down.

That was too close.

He'd like to say never again, but he doesn't regret it, doesn't think he could ever forgive himself if he ever stood idle while watching something like that happen.

It just wasn't right.

"Reckon we should leave before there's more trouble," Gloria says as she lifts Hop to his feet, her grip firm on his arm as if expecting him to fall again at any moment. There's no judgment in her tone over what he just did, just a genuine opinion on her part.

"Right," Marnie says, and Hop thinks there's definitely a bit of judgement in her tone, though thankfully not terribly much. "Let's push on to that inn. Reckon we could all use a drink after today."

Hop just gives a weak nod, and he looks to Bede, who is now back on his own feet. His coat is caked in mud, and his hat is still on the ground. Hop's fingers hesitantly curl around the brim, both of them averting their gaze as he places it back on Bede's head. As dirty as it is, it's better than allowing him to get rained on.

It takes another couple of hours still, and a part of Hop is starting to lose hope of there being any inn at all, that that awful, awful man was talking utter bollocks from the very beginning, when a building starts to take shape ahead of them, the warm, orange glow from its windows piercing through the darkness and the fog.

Marnie pushes her shoulder against the evidently heavy door, and Hop can immediately feel the pleasant warmth emanating from inside. Still, once she and the twins have walked ahead, he hesitates in the doorway, swallowing heavily, Marnie's words from earlier echoing in his mind.

A drink.

He's decently sure she didn't exactly mean water, so he remains planted for a moment, peering in as if he'll get punched straight back out if he dares enter. Mum warned him of a decent few things before he left, but he's quite sure telling him not to drink wasn't high up on her list because she felt that it was obvious.

"May we get a move on? I'd rather quite like to get out of this rain."

Hop turns his head, and where he expects a scathing expression on Bede's face for being in his way, he instead barely sees anything, the only things visible beneath the brim of his hat being the slight purse of his lips, and the nasty-looking bruise on his jaw.

Okay, deep breaths, Hop. No need to keep Bede in the rain.

With a sharp exhale, he strolls in, a wide grin immediately plastered onto his face that he quickly tempers down to something more reasonable because it probably looks fake and oh gods, how does he normally walk? This doesn't feel right. He must look so out of place.

He scoots up closely behind Gloria at the bar, practically becoming her shadow as he peers a single eye around her to see Marnie speaking to the innkeeper.

"Three beds and a round of ale, please," she says, immediately putting down such a specific amount of money that Hop wonders just how much experience she has doing things like this.

The innkeeper gives a silent nod before he narrows his eyes to the rest of the group. "You lot even old enough to drink?" he probes, and Hop barely suppresses a nervous squeak.

Victor nudges Gloria with his elbow as he speaks up. "Well, the two of us are, at least—" He squawks as Gloria jams her elbow far more harshly into his ribs.

"We're old enough," Gloria insists firmly, lifting up her shield slightly as if to suggest that no child would own such a thing, but the innkeeper barely pays her any mind as he waves her off, still shaking his head a bit disbelievingly as he starts to pour ale into a tankard anyway.

Once a few drinks have already been poured, Hop meekly clears his throat before speaking up. "Err... could we have four beds, actually, please?"

His cheeks are burning when everyone turns to him, and he gives a small nod towards Bede, whom he assumes is still behind him. He hopes he's still behind him, at least. He doesn't mind sharing a bed with Victor, as usual, but the least they could do for Bede is to not make him sleep on the floor.

Marnie rolls her eyes, but throws a couple extra coins onto the counter. "Four it is, then." She turns to Bede. "Come on. Can't let you roam around down here," she says, and the only thing stopping Hop from feeling too guilty is the fact that he's sure Bede would rather be locked in one of the rooms than sit at a table with them.

Minutes later, and Hop's lips are pursed as he looks down to his tankard on the table in front of him.

It smells.

It smells really bad.

He can't deny the rebellious thrill bubbling inside him, and this isn't the first time he's seem some ale—it's always broken out whenever there's a party in Postwick, and he's been inside the inn in Wedgehurst a couple times here and there—but now that it's sitting in front of him, he can't say that the idea of actually drinking any of it seems very appealing.

Victor catches Hop's gaze, their shared grimace making it abundantly clear that they're both as grossed out as each other. "On three?"

Eugh, be brave, Hop. "Fine... on three."

Gloria counts them down, and when she reaches three, Hop raises his tankard to take a healthy swig just as Victor does. The ale crosses his lips, and—

Gods, it's worse than he even expected.

He swallows it anyway, shuddering as it travels down his throat and towards his stomach. Why would anyone ever do this to themselves? It just seems like bloody torture for absolutely no reason.

By the time Marnie comes back down from upstairs, grabbing her own tankard, Hop can't stifle his giggles.

"Marnie!" he exclaims, raising his already refilled tankard towards her. "You've got to try this stuff!" The ale is already sitting warmly in his belly, combining with the fire of the hearth to be a brilliant relief from the awful weather they've been walking in all day.

"Ain't my first time," Marnie says, the faintest bit of amusement glinting in her eyes before she takes a sip of her own ale. And she doesn't even shudder like he did! "Was drinking whiskey with Piers when I was fifteen."

Hop's eyes glitter with fascination. "You're having a laugh! Fifteen?! That's at least... two years ago!"

Victor snickers. "Sonia's teachings at work, that is," he says, and he sounds like he's teasing him, but if he is, Hop doesn't really get it. Obviously Sonia taught him how to count.

Then, Hop notices Gloria giggling into her own drink, eyes occasionally darting up towards him in a way that suddenly makes him feel like she's laughing at his expense.

"What's so funny?" he says, jabbing a finger into the table threateningly as he narrows his own eyes towards her.

Gloria laughs shamelessly now, the unabashed sort that tells Hop that the drink has definitely gotten to her. More than it has for him at least, because he isn't drunk at all.

"Was just thinking about how hard you squared up to that bloke earlier," she says with a smirk, and Victor immediately cackles.

"You proper looked like you were gonna throttle him!" He puffs up his shoulders and straightens his back, baring his teeth in a way that makes him look more like a Bunnelby than anything, in Hop's opinion.

Still... Hop's ears start to burn in embarrassment anyway. He did act like a bit of a brute earlier, didn't he? And nearly got his block knocked off because of it.

Marnie even snorts herself. "Lot of nerve coming from you two," she says to the twins, nudging her now empty tankard towards them, and that catches Hop's attention. She smirks as she catches Hop's eye, the drink having clearly loosened even her up a bit by now. "Should'a seen 'em, Hop. Second that prick looked like he was gonna hit you the two of 'em were just like-" She tilts her head forward, eyes darkening as her brow knits into a deep, deep scowl, practically a storm cloud over her head. If Hop is being honest, he thinks it's more expressive than he's ever seen her.

Victor's cheeks flush crimson on impact. "She's lying!" he immediately shouts, but the borderline panic in his eyes says it all. "Just trying to stir the pot!" he adds while Gloria just buries her face into her tankard, which Hop is quite sure she already emptied a little bit ago.

And while Hop does quite like the idea of turning the tables on them...

"Well... cheers for backing me up there," he says with a bright grin, feet genuinely tippy-tapping away happily under the table because they really did help him out. "I really do appreciate it!"

Victor's eyes brighten, and he wraps an arm around Gloria's shoulders. "Well, in that case... happy to help!" he says with a beaming grin, which Hop returns, until he slowly leers forward.

"Aww... so that means you really were looking at him like a pair of bloody demons?" he says, voice sickly sweet because he knows they can't deny it now.

"That's cheating you ungrateful sod!" Victor shouts from across the table before shrinking slightly when he realises they're attracting attention. He sticks out his lower lip into a pout. "Mean. Nasty. Awful. Not at all my best mate."

Hop allows him to continue like that for a while until he runs out of things to say that he doesn't mean before he gives Victor a kick under the table, immediately receiving one in return that quickly turns into a full-blown war.

"Right, that's enough!" Gloria says, interrupting their fun. Which is fine, in Hop's mind, because he reckons he won anyway. "I'm getting another drink, anyone want any?"

"I'll go," Hop quickly says, already getting up from his seat. "Gonna get some food and try again to..." He trails off, his voice weakening as he avoids Marnie's gaze because he doesn't want to be made out to be weak again just for trying to treat Bede with some respect.

"Good luck," Marnie says as she hands over a key, barely audible over the din of the inn, and Hop's mouth hangs open slightly before he clamps his mouth shut, lest he say something stupid.

"Cheers, Marns," he says, before realising that's just about as stupid a thing he could have said and—

"Aye, aye, don't push your luck," Marnie says, averting her gaze. "And get us our bloody drinks."

Hop grins, before popping to the bar, giving the innkeeper his most charming smile as he makes his order now that he has a bit more confidence. He drops the drinks off at their table before hesitantly making his way up the stairs, bowl of stew in one hand and a waterskin in the other.

The door creaks as he opens it. The rain thrashes against the window, the sort that's crossed the line from pleasant background noise while trying to sleep to something far less pleasant. A single candle is lit on the windowsill, leaving the room only barely illuminated.

He still feels the eyes on him immediately, though.

Bede is sitting on the edge of the bed, his body facing the window, though his head is now turned towards Hop. Whatever expression he holds, Hop isn't sure.

"Brought..." Hop clears his throat, his mouth suddenly dry and his balance unsteady, the stew nearly tipping from its bowl. Maybe he is starting to feel the effects of the drink after all. "Brought some stew. For you to eat." He at least wants to try to get something down him, and maybe now that they're otherwise in private—

"No, thank you," Bede replies, voice gravelly as he turns away back to the window. The wind howls especially loud, the scene surely awful out there, though Bede looks like he'd happily be out there rather than here.

Hop just stares, before making his decision.

Taking a seat to Bede's left, he places a hand onto the shackles. "I can take them off," he says, even though the thought of doing so has his heart hammering in his chest.

"You'd be a fool to do so," Bede counters, still looking away.

"Wouldn't be the first time I've been called that, mate, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

With a click, the shackles are released. Hop's chest tightens, his breath hitching, and he clamps his eyes shut, counting in his head as the seconds go by.

Still alive. And thoroughly unsplattered against the walls.

When Hop's eyes open, he can see Bede looking down, fingers dancing over the marks left on his wrists. They look painful, far more so than Bede seemed to suggest.

"Here," Hop says as he rummages through his bag, glad that he keeps his medical supplies far more organised than the bag itself because he can't see a bloody thing. He pours some water onto a rag.

"Quite unnecessary, I think," Bede says, pulling away his hands, instinctively keeping them together as if they're still bound. Hop rolls his eyes before pulling them towards him anyway.

"Let me," he says firmly. The shackles will surely need to be put back on eventually, but some bandages might provide some cushioning at least, and give the current damage a chance to heal.

Bede tsks, but otherwise lets him be tended to as Hop cleans the dirt and slight bit of blood away. Soon enough, he's wrapping bandages around both of Bede's wrists, eyes occasionally darting to the bruise on Bede's jaw.

There isn't much he can do about that.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"What for? We're enemies, are we not?"

Hop swallows hard. Are they? He doesn't feel as if they are. Rose, maybe, but... enemies or not, he's not happy with how the last day has been.

"Nah," he says, surprisingly confident in his words. "Reckon we could still be friends if you like!"

Bede physically does a double-take, before shaking his head incredulously. "You really are a fool, aren't you?"

"Told you it wouldn't be the last time," Hop says with a cheeky grin. It's practically a badge of honour at this point. It's what makes him interesting!

"Unbelievable," is all Bede says, before turning away once again, flinching when Hop pushes the bowl of stew into his hands.

"S'getting cold," Hop says. Now that he doesn't have to spoon-feed Bede, surely there won't be any more problems.

Bede hesitates long enough that Hop thinks he somehow is about to make up some stupid bloody problem before taking the bowl, the spoon trembling slightly in his hand.

"Who's the fool now, eh?" Hop nudges Bede slightly, causing him to jolt enough to nearly tip his stew. "You're clearly starving."

"Be quiet for once in your life," Bede counters, vaguely stirring the stew before slowly bringing the spoon to his lips. He swallows after a brief moment before glaring daggers. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't watch me."

"Right! Right," Hop bumbles out. His mum and Sonia didn't spend so much time teaching his manners for nothing, so he just focuses on the sound of the storm outside, scooting over just enough to give Bede some more space, but not so far that he won't be able to do something if Bede makes a move on him.

Oh, who is he kidding. With those shackles off, he'd be bloody toast.

Bede hasn't hurt him yet, though.

Eventually, Bede finishes eating, quicker than Hop had expected, but he supposes Bede was starving. Maybe still is. Hop hands over his waterskin. "I could get you some more—"

"No—" Bede clears his throat harshly, hesitating for only a moment before he unclasps the waterskin, taking a small sip. "No, thank you."

Hop lets out a huff. It feels like everything he says annoys Bede somehow. Now, don't get him wrong, he's well aware he can be a bit of an acquired taste, has been called annoying more times than he can count, but this is a bit extreme.

He supposes that... there is something that's worked before, though.

"If..." He swallows. "If you tried really hard, could you blow someone up with your mind?"

Bede's eyes widen, looking genuinely taken aback for a moment before he actually laughs, immediately masking it with a cough. "No, bumpkin. I cannot blow people up with my mind."

Hop pouts, partly because he's not sure why Bede is laughing at him, and partly because if he is going to laugh, he'd may as well commit to it.

"Well, it looked like you can blow people up with your bloody hands, at least," Hop says, receiving an eye roll in response.

"I told you that I was only going to put you to sleep." Bede runs a hand through his hair snootily, and Hop silently wonders if he's glad he's able to do that again now that he's finally unbound.

"Aye, bollocks," he says instead, jabbing a finger into Bede's arm. "You were taking out entire bloody trees left and right."

Bede purses his lips, shifting in place on the edge of the bed. "Yes, well..." He checks his nails. "Perhaps I underestimate my capabilities every now and then."

"S'that why your brains started to fall out of your nose?"

"That's not—" Bede pinches the bridge of his nose. "That is not what happened. It is simply a reaction when especially low on energy. It causes your blood to thin." He sniffs, wiping his hand across his nose as if a subconscious reaction to the memory. "Chairman Rose intends to look into it further. And do away with it, ideally."

Hop tilts his head. "What, and let blokes like you sling bloody spells all day and night?" He shakes his head. "Sounds like a bloody disaster to me."

"Well, nobody asked you." Bede sneers, whatever sense of... well, whatever it was that had settled between them dissipating quickly. "He intends to use it for good, and that's the end of it."

Hop lets out a small exhale from his nose, intent on disallowing it from forming into a full sigh lest he spark Bede's fury even more. Seems he's buggered that up a bit.

So he just turns away, staring to the floor. His eyes trace the cracks in the floorboards, the slightest bit of warm light filtering through some of the bigger gaps.

"Thank you."

Hop jolts, turning to look back to Bede, who is decidedly not looking back at him.

"For keeping your promise," Bede clarifies, and Hop shakes his head.

"S'nothing, mate. Can't say I'm pleased with what happened yesterday, but..." He trails off, the thought of the man earlier making him feel sick and light-headed. "I weren't gonna let some twat beat you up like that."

And he has a feeling things would have gone even further than that, had they left Bede there.

The rain continues to patter against the window as they sit in silence, the sound more gentle than before. The storm seems to be letting up a bit, at least. For now, anyway.

A strange feeling starts to take root in Hop's gut, and he thinks, not for the first time, about what they're actually supposed to do with Bede, especially now that he's made the promises that he has. If that is the treatment that is to be expected towards Bede—and yes, he saw the way the other inn's patrons looked at him—then how long do they plan to keep him in tow? How far do they plan to drag him, hands bound, along this journey of theirs?

It just isn't right.

Hop shifts in place, and swallows, chewing the inside of his lip. "M'gonna go to the bathroom real quick," he says, not making any attempt to move just yet. He turns, and does his best to give Bede a meaningful look in the low light. "Okay...?"

Bede's eyes are glinting slightly in the candlelight, and then he blinks, his hands instinctively beginning to rub together, something that should immediately remind Hop of the fact that he's currently unbound.

Hop stands anyway, the boards creaking slightly beneath his feet as he walks over to the door, pulling it open. He looks back for the briefest of moments before allowing the weight of the door to close it behind him.

When he returns, a rush of wind hits his face. Once his eyes adjust, he sees the window hanging wide open, rain pattering against the now exposed windowsill. The candle has been blown out, leaving the room cloaked in darkness.

And yet, Hop knows that he's gone.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, alone now as he picks up his waterskin, now mostly drained.

He's not that much of a fool, nor is he drunk enough to have completely lost his senses. He knew exactly what he was doing leaving Bede unbound on his own, knew that Bede would likely take the opportunity to leave. But when he looks to the open window...

It still feels like a betrayal.

"Vic, mate, you have got to help me."

Hop paces back and forth impatiently. It took several attempts to rouse Victor from his sleep, but he's desperate. Primarily because he is currently plagued by two simple facts.

One—he let Bede escape. Unlocked his shackles and gave him the opportunity to slip out the window if he wanted to. Which he evidently did.

Two—Marnie is going to absolutely kill him. See fact number one for the reason why.

Also his bloody head hurts, more than likely because of that stupid ale he was drinking last night.

Victor finally lifts his head up from his pillow, though he makes no move to take off the covers, let alone stand, as he rubs one of his eyes. "Help you with bloody what, Hop?" he says, grumpy like a bloody old man, the way he always is when he isn't allowed to sleep into the early, or late afternoon.

It's times like these where Victor's similarities to Gloria are most stark, Hop thinks. No offence to Glo, because this is also when he's most tempted to throttle Vic as well.

"I don't know!" Hop hisses under his breath, jabbing a finger into Victor's chest, a motion that only sends him back onto his pillow. "Marnie can't find out, or our next dinner is gonna be me, roasted over an open bloody flame!"

"Can't imagine you'd taste very nice," Victor mumbles, eyes closed as he seemingly drifts back off. Hop feels his eye twitch before launching himself at Victor, pulling harshly at his cheeks.

"Listen here you sleepy bloody twat—!"

That's all he manages to get out before there's a pounding on the door.

Hop clamps a hand over his mouth, and Victor's for good measure, because there's someone at the door, and if it's Marnie, then that means—

"Oi, Hop, you snogging my brother in there or what?"

Hop shoots to his feet and throws the door open, not even giving Gloria the chance to speak before yanking her in. The tables are quickly turned back onto him, though, as Gloria twists his arm behind his back like he's some bloody villain.

"Agh, cut it out!" he squeaks out, louder than he'd intended, but it bloody hurts.

"Tell me what's going on," Gloria says firmly as she lets him go, a deep frown on her face when Hop turns around. Seems like she's all business this morning, which is good, because—

"Glo, Aglorable, I need your help." Hop switches on the puppy eyes on command, the same he'd tried and failed to use on Victor just minutes earlier. Gloria's eyes narrow in what is clearly suspicion, making Hop wilt slightly. Maybe he should... soften the blow? "Err, so... Bede is gone—"

Gloria immediately springs into action, taking a single step towards the door before Hop manages to yank her back again.

"No, he's—!" Hop winces when he sees Gloria's glare, looking like she's going to punch him straight out the window if he keeps this up much longer. "Look... I might have taken his shackles off and let him go last night?"

Hop swallows hard when Gloria's face turns stony, her expression unreadable—at least until she starts to turn red. Before he can blink, Hop has been pushed backwards, landing onto the edge of the mattress.

"Are you stupid?" she hisses. "He could have bloody... liquified you, or—!" She brings a hand to her forehead and takes a step back, and Hop thinks it's likely because of her usual tendency to punch away her problems whenever she's angry. Something he'd rather her not do, given that he's the problem right now.

Hop puts on his best smile. "Well, yeah, he could have liquified me or whatever, but he didn't!" he chirps, but the explicit reminder that the first thing they might've all had to do this morning was clean him off the walls seems to only piss Gloria off more.

She takes a step forward and grabs Hop by his collar. "Don't do anything that stupid ever again," she warns, shoving a finger into his face. "If we'd found you..." She trails off with a heavy swallow, and lets go of him, averting her gaze as she steps back, as if she can't bear to look at him.

Well, now he feels guilty.

"Sorry, Glo..." he mumbles. He doesn't mean to make people worry, and maybe he should have had backup at least, but...

He trusted Bede. And he felt like Bede trusted him in return. He doubts he'd have gotten anywhere with any of the others in tow last night.

Gloria shakes her head, but it's clear she's coming down a bit. Maybe because the problem has sorted itself now, given that Bede is long gone. "Just promise you'll be more careful," she says, and Hop gives a hearty set of nods. Gloria lets out a huff through her nose, not looking completely placated, though her shoulders are more relaxed now as she crosses her arms. "You said you needed help with something?"

Hop perks up at that. "W-well, we can't let Marnie know I let him go because she proper hated Bede, and if she finds out she'll proper hate me as well, and—"

The door creaks, slowly opening until it hits the wall with a gentle thunk.

Bollocks.

Marnie is standing in the doorway, her eyes flickering first to Gloria, then to Victor who has cuddled himself back up into bed, then finally to Hop, and the undeniably guilty expression that surely sits on his face when he sees the shackles that are clinking together as they hang loosely in in Marnie's hand.

"You let him go," she says simply, and Hop bites his lip.

"Y-yeah...?"

"After you asked me to spend my money to get him his own bloody bed."

Hop blinks dumbly. "Yeah...?"

"Twat."

Hop lowers his head. "Yeah..."

Marnie shakes her head at him incredulously, or perhaps it's in disgust, before turning around and closing the door behind her. Each of her steps are audible as she walks along the corridor, and down the stairs.

Is... is that it?

It'd feel almost anticlimactic, if Hop weren't fearing for his life just moments earlier.

"Well..." Gloria starts, rolling her shoulders. "Up and at 'em, yeah?" she says, before leaving Hop to the torturous activity of having to wake Victor up again.

He's carrying Marnie's bag as punishment.

Hop isn't sure if it was Glo's idea, or if she and Marnie are just of similar minds.

They should be reaching Turffield this afternoon, if Marnie is correct when she says that all they need to do is follow the river north. The very same river Hop is quite sure he very nearly drowned in.

Pleasant thoughts, Hop. Look forward, not backward. That's what Lee would do.

If Hop is being honest, he doesn't know what to expect from Turffield. Kabu had been vague as to what exactly they're looking for, what the place looks like, what sort of people live there...

One day, maybe he'll be placated with simply not knowing what's ahead of him, to not having every day be the same as the last, but today is not that day. A mixture of excitement and unease flutters in his stomach every time they approach somewhere new, and this time is no different.

At least the weather is nicer, he supposes. The sun is high up in the sky, and although there's some spotty cloud coverage, and it isn't very warm, it's still far better than the rain. Even if the mud is still squelching beneath his boots after yesterday's downpour.

They're out of the forests now, away from the pleasant shores of Lake Axewell, all of it replaced with hills, hills, and more hills. It feels like he's getting a lot less bang for his buck with each step he takes, least of all because he barely slept last night. He was tossing and turning the entire time because he was imagining all the gruesome ways Marnie might murder him for letting Bede go.

Okay, maybe he got caught up in his imagination a bit. Nothing new there. In hindsight, he imagines she's more pleased than anything to have Bede out of her hair.

Fingers crossed that Bede has learned his lessons and doesn't go straight back to trying to mug people.

Around when Hop's back starts to ache from the combined weight of his and Marnie's bags, they walk over the crest of a hill, and some thatched roofs come into view. Hop's eyes widen. "S'that—"

"Should be." Marnie waits for Hop to catch up before taking back her bag, and Hop lets out a sigh of relief. At least that's over. Given how bloody heavy it was, he imagines there are more knick-knacks than just the shackles in there.

A smile breaks out on Hop's face when he sees just how many Wooloo are in the fields surrounding Turffield, more than he's ever seen. It's taking a lot for him to not hop one of the fences and try to make friends with every single one of them. He takes in a breath of the ripe air, and it all smells like home.

This is already the nicest place they've visited so far, Hop thinks, though said thought is quickly interrupted when he hears a piercing bark that causes him to promptly jump out of his bloody skin.

A Boltund hops one of the cobblestone walls before trotting towards them and begins to circle around the twins happily, prodding its head against their hands for pets.

Hop lets out a breath, one hand still clutching his chest. Alright, disaster averted, but now he's on bloody edge again.

"Sorry about that!" a man calls out, quite short, but stocky and undeniably very strong given the Wooloo currently hoisted up onto his shoulder, held up with a single arm. "We don't get too many people wandering in from out of town, so I reckon you give him a bit of a startle."

"Oh, he's the one who got startled, is he?" Marnie remarks dryly, the way her fingers grip onto the sleeves betraying her lingering anxiety. Hop can relate, because his heart is still racing.

"Eheh... my bad," the man says lamely, his cheeks red. He sweeps some of the strawberry blonde hair peeking out from under his farmer's hat out of his face and takes a step forward, the guilty-looking smile sitting on his lips quickly replaced with a far sunnier one as he holds out a hand towards them, not looking even slightly off-balance despite the Wooloo still up on his shoulder. "I'm Milo. Nice to meetcha!"

Gloria, ever their courageous leader, is the one who steps forward to accept the handshake, and Milo gives a small wave to each of them as they introduce themselves.

"Hop, huh...?" Milo starts, scratching his chin. "That a regional way of saying Skip, or somethin'?" he says in a way that Hop really can't tell if he's joking or not.

"Err..." Hop coughs into his elbow. "More like the plant?" he attempts, even though he's not sure if he's ever even seen a hop plant with his own eyes.

"Ohhh!" Milo's eyes sparkle for a moment, and then he beams. "Eheh, I love plants! Don't tell anyone, though, 'cause Turffield's a Wooloo town." The Wooloo on his shoulder lets out a disgruntled bleat, as if it somehow understands Milo's words and plans to tell everyone when it gets back to its pen.

Or maybe Hop's imagination is getting ahead of himself, as usual.

The Boltund returns to Milo's side, eagerly receiving the pets that immediately come its way. "So! What brings you all to Turffield? Just passing through, I'd imagine?"

Gloria's usual confidence falters slightly as she averts her gaze. "We were told there were some markings in the hills here. Old ones?" she explains, or is at least doing her best to explain, because Hop can hear the simmering frustration over the lack of information Kabu gave them in her tone.

"Oh, the geoglyphs?" Milo's hand stops petting his Boltund to scratch his chin. He looks to the Shield, and then to Victor hiding in the back, and the Sword held securely on his hip. His eyes widen in realisation. "So you're the..." An unreadable expression lands on his face before quickly disappearing, and he grins. "Well, you heard right! I can take you to them if you like?"

The Wooloo on his shoulder bleats on cue, and Milo winces. "Well... as long as you don't mind me taking this little troublemaker back to her pen first?" Despite his words, he tilts his head into the Wooloo in an affectionate gesture. "She managed to make it through all of town before I got a hold of her."

Hop snickers discreetly into his palm. Seems like the Wooloo here are no different to his own. They might seem docile enough, but once they get their first real taste of adventure, there isn't much you can do to stop them. "Do you want some help carrying her back?" he says, hope sparkling in his eyes.

Milo tilts his head slightly, then catches Hop's real meaning and lets out a small chuckle. "Of course! Y'look like you have some good shoulders on you," he says, as if he isn't still practically twice Hop's size.

He lowers the Wooloo to the ground, and Hop eagerly takes her into his arms before hoisting up onto his shoulders—both of them because, unlike Milo, he isn't built like a brick house. Still, he does pride himself a bit on his strength. He's the designated bag carrier after all. Even if it's usually for punishment reasons.

They start to follow Milo into Turffield proper. It's undeniably bigger than Postwick, closer to a town than a village, but there's still a sleepiness to it, a nice sense of peace.

Well, that is, until the locals spot them.

"Milo! Can you help me with—"

"Oh, Milo... please won't you—"

"Milo, my Purrloin is stuck up a—"

Hop sighs as Milo does his best to coax the Purrloin from the branches of the tree, Victor snickering to his side. "Seems Milo might be a bit of a local hero," he comments, and Marnie snorts.

"Local pushover, more like," she says, shaking her head towards Milo who, despite coming across as plenty competent, is quite objectively struggling in the height department. The Purrloin doesn't seem so much stuck as it is smug over being out of reach.

Eventually, Gloria seems to run out of patience.

"Vic."

"What?"

"Bend down so I can get on your shoulders."

"Wha—"

Gloria pushes Victor down by his shoulders before he can get any more words out, climbing onto his shoulders so that she's getting a piggyback ride. "Forwards, my loyal steed."

"I'm not... a bloody Mudsdale," Victor strains out, but he manages to get up onto his feet, taking unsteady steps forward until they're close enough that Gloria can reach up into the branches where the Purrloin is sitting contentedly. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to put up much of a fight once Gloria's hands wrap around it.

The crowd that has seemingly formed around them claps and whoops as Gloria drops from Victor's shoulders, the Purrloin held securely in her arms as she preens under their applause.

Another similarity to Postwick, Hop thinks. Getting all excited over the slightest bit of spectacle in an otherwise sleepy village.

He supposes it is a bit exciting to see Glo and Vic ultimately being heroes though, no matter how small of an act it is, so he grins and applauds with everyone anyway. Even if Vic is shrinking beneath it all a bit.

After a few more apologetic rejections on Milo's part and a brief chase after the Wooloo, which had managed to slip away again during the Purrloin incident—no, it wasn't Hop's fault, people shouldn't have distracted him—they're finally on their way towards the... the uhh...

"Geoglyphs," Milo replies when asked, then shrugs. "That's what a bunch of the King's people called 'em when they came around when I was just a sprout, at least." He continues to lead them up a hill, to where they'll supposedly get the best view. "They salted the earth here a long time ago, made something like a... a drawing into the side of the hill. Can't say I ever understood what I was seeing, though. Well, not until..." He trails off, lips pursed as his eyes flash to the twins for a moment, before steering them forward once again.

Hop swallows, partly because of Milo's words, the implication that the geoglyphs really do have something to do with the prophecy, but also because he has a strange feeling in his gut that's only getting stronger with each step he takes ascending the hill.

Once they reach the crest, Milo puts his hands on his hips. "Well... there you are! One nice, big geoglyph!"

Milo's words ring true. The opposing hill is covered in grass, save for the patterns and shapes where the grass doesn't grow, as if drawn directly into it by massive fingers or claws. Near the foot of the hill is a group of—in Hop's opinion, poorly drawn—figures, one of them holding a sword, and another a shield.

But what comprises most of the image, is what the figures are seemingly fighting.

"And what exactly is that thing supposed to be?" Marnie asks, her voice flat and unimpressed.

"Uh," Milo starts, sounding a bit put-out. "M'not really a historian and, well..." He trails off, his meaning clear. He's never seen anything like it before, and neither have they.

They all stand in silence for a few more moments, a tension settling between them, a sense of disappointment, because it feels like the geoglyphs have given no answers to their questions, have only provided them with more questions than before. They've been given no further information, nor any further leads. Just an unnerving depiction of what is supposedly their enemy.

That's not the reason Hop is silent, though.

There's a sharp ringing in his ears, and he feels unsteady on his feet. There's a sinking sensation in his stomach, one that's only intensifying by the second, and he's unable to tear his eyes from the scene in front of him even as bile starts to make its way up his throat.

Because he's seen it before.

Hop's mind is a blur as Milo leads them back to Turffield, and he ignores, or is physically unable to listen to the idle conversations around him. His bag feels heavy on his bag, and he resists the urge to open it, because he needs to check, he needs to—

His knuckles crack slightly as he clenches his fists, and he tries to focus on the sensation of the wind blowing in his hair, the sound of the rustling of grass and trees, and of the distant bleats of herds of Wooloo, but...

"The end is nigh!"

A collective flinch tears through the group when an old-sounding man's voice pierces through the air, distant for now, but undeniably in the direction they're going.

A crowd has formed within the closest thing that can be called a square in Turffield, seemingly obscuring whoever the voice belongs to from view. Milo winces in a way that gives the impression that this isn't the first time something like this has happened, and then he puts himself between them and the crowd as if to further obscure it all from view. "Just... try to ignore him, okay?"

Gloria decides not to heed the advice. "What's his problem?" she asks firmly, a deep frown on her face, which makes Milo shift uncomfortably.

"He... gets like this sometimes. Started a couple months ago. We don't know what's wrong with him." His lips are downturned as he avoids eye contact. "He's never really been all there. Not as long as I've been alive at least, but..."

But it wasn't like this.

"You should lock him in his house," Marnie says bluntly. "He's freaking everyone out." Likely her included, based on the uncomfortable knitting of her brow.

Something's buzzing inside Hop's head.

"I've seen it in my dreams!" the old man shouts, and it hurts. It hurts Hop's ears, and his mind. "I've seen dust and ash, eternity and oblivion—" He coughs, hard, retching before audibly spitting onto the ground, his frailness clear even with him out of sight, his voice only becoming more demented. "It's inevitable, unstoppable, and it's coming for us all! And everything you've ever loved, and everything you've ever—!"

The crowd parts slightly upon Milo's approach, enough to expose the voice's owner—a short man, walking stick in hand, looking even frailer and weaker than Hop had even imagined. He pauses, eyes locking onto them, when his walking stick falls to the ground. Raising a tremoring hand, the old man points a finger towards them.

"Y-you...!"

And Hop's vision warps, his head pounding painfully.

The man clutches his chest, letting out a weak, pained sound before suddenly falling to his knees. He takes in a single hopeless, breathless inhale before collapsing entirely, joints cracking as he goes down. A rattle escapes the old man's lips, barely audible over the gasps and occasional screams of the crowd, as his unfocused, glazed-over eyes stare directly and unflinchingly into the sun above.

And it was the first time Hop saw someone die.

Moonlight filters in through the window of one of the rooms inside Turffield's bunkhouse, gently illuminating the closed sketchbook on Hop's lap.

Milo had said not to worry about it. That the man was old. That it was only a matter of time before he keeled over, that it was just a rotten shame that they'd had the misfortune of witnessing it.

Hop isn't so sure.

Shifting in place slightly, Hop flips over the cover, hesitatingly beginning to flip through it. He looks over his old drawings, noting with a sense of pride that feels faint and weak now that he's already gotten noticeably better with a pen since they first set out. He rereads his previous passages, his observations, his hopes for the journey ahead of them, before finally landing on the page he's looking for, the page he's avoiding, the page he's dreading, and yet the page he knows he needs to see.

It's identical. Uncannily so. So much so that he wonders if something had possessed him, taken control of his very being when he had made those rough, panicked scribbles into the pages below.

Did the ancient Galarians, the ones who burned those shapes and lines into the hill, see the same thing as him?

Did the man he saw die see the same thing as him?

Tears start to roll down Hop's cheeks, and he clamps a hand securely over his mouth to stifle his sobs because he's scared. He's not sure he's ever been so scared in his entire life.

He's always been curious. Has always been the sort to ask why that is, and what this is, and what that means, and why things have to be this way. But for the first time in his life, Hop is scared of knowing the answers to his questions.

Why him? He just doesn't understand it, doesn't understand what he's been seeing, doesn't understand why he's been seeing it, or why he, of all people, is seemingly getting visions of an actual honest to gods apocalypse. All this, at the hands of... at the hands of...

His head hurts, as if trying to comprehend what he saw in that vision, what he saw scratched into the hillside, what he currently sees burned into the paper of the sketchbook in his hands, only leads him further away from the truth until—

Hop gasps, or tries to, but no air reaches his lungs, and he feels himself sinking, sinking, sinking, until he's completely enveloped in darkness.

No... no, no, no, no!

He doesn't want to go back there, doesn't want to feel outside of himself or his own world ever again. He doesn't want to feel like he's drowning, he doesn't want to see the world shattered beyond belief, he doesn't want...

At any moment, he expects to see such things. Visions of dust, of darkness, and utter oblivion, all beneath something he feels he could never hope to understand.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he continues to see nothing.

Nothing at all.

Anger starts to bubble within Hop's gut, a fury starting to burn within his veins. What is it waiting for? Whatever that thing is, it has something to do with all of this, so what is it waiting for?!

Hop's fists clench, the motion grounding enough for him to realise that he's at least himself this time, but his frustration is getting to him anyway. If he's going to be bloody seeing things, then he should at least get to see something useful!

And if Hop didn't know better, he'd think that his command was answered.

Something, in the farthest reaches of Hop's mind, starts to come into focus. Still blurred, still just out of reach for him to truly see, but it is something.

He feels a hot wind hitting him in the face, the air dry and arid, and he chokes. On what, he isn't sure. There's sediment on his tongue—dust, or sand, or ash.

He hears footsteps, multiple sets of rushed footsteps, one of which feels like it must be his own, before they're all drowned out by the piercing, repetitive sound of bells, so many and so urgent and panicked that they could only possibly be signalling disaster.

Barely any air is reaching his lungs as he takes in shallow, rapid breaths. It's difficult to tell, but he feels himself ascending, rhythmic vibrations beneath his feet.

And then he feels it, subtle at first before growing in intensity. There's a sensation in his right hand, a sense of heat, so intense that it could only possibly come from...

Fire.

Hop screams as a searing, white-hot pain tears through his hand, and up his arm, and he kicks himself back, letting out a pained sound when his head thunks against something behind him.

A bang sounds out, the door practically being kicked open. "Hop?!"

Gloria, Hop thinks, only faintly connecting the dots that it means he's out of that place as he tucks his still-pained hand behind his back.

Words fail him as he lifts himself up from the floor, still dizzy and disoriented as his other hand comes up to feel the lump on his head from where it'd made contact with the wall. He gives a pitiful thumbs up instead as he sits himself back on the bed, the far side, away from Gloria.

"Hop."

"M'fine," Hop finally manages, voice croaky. "Just had a bit of a nightmare." This is usually the part where he'd put on his classic smile, but he's not sure if he's ever felt less up for it. Besides, Glo probably can't see his face anyway. It's not like he can bear to look at her.

Still, he can tell exactly what sort of face she's making.

"Bit of a dramatic reaction for a nightmare," she says, before clearing her throat. "What I mean is... you can tell me if something is bothering you."

Hop's shoulders droop, and his eyes fall to the floor, because he's tempted.

He's so, so tempted.

But...

He turns to face her, and grins. "I'm alright, Glo. Woke up in a bit of a tizzy and thought I saw something out the window. S'why I was acting all..." He trails off. Acting like a lunatic.

Gloria just stares back from within the doorway, and Hop realises she brought the Shield with her, her grip on it tight. "Hop—"

"Really, m'fine now, Glo!" He yawns, because he really is tired. "Just go back to bed, okay?" They'll be continuing their journey tomorrow after all.

For a moment, Gloria looks like she's going to keep pushing, but then she sighs. "Alright. Night, Hop." She turns, looking down the hall for only a moment before walking out of view.

He's back in the room.

His hand trembles as he brings it up in front of his face, doing his best to look at it in the moonlight.

It's fine. Nothing but a dull pain that he's not quite sure was ever real.

It had felt real, in the moment.

He doesn't know what's happening to him. His previous belief of them merely being hallucinations feels comforting in comparison to the possible reality that whatever that thing is is real, and that these visions aren't only his own.

Hop takes a stuttering breath, lowering his hand back to the side.

And that's when he sees her.

Further back, in the darkness, is another pair of eyes, their light blue colour practically glowing in the moonlight.

Marnie's gaze flickers down towards the sketchbook, sprawled out on the floor where Gloria must not have noticed despite how perfectly lit it is by the moonbeams coming from the window, and to the harsh, panicked lines he'd made that night before Motostoke. Then, they drift back up to meet his own.

She knows.

Hop silently gazes back, as if daring her to accuse him of having drawn that before tonight. That it wasn't just a recreation of the geoglyph they saw today, even if the sheer fear in his scribbles is undeniable. The lie sits on his tongue, ready to be released, but...

"You should tell them," is all she says, voice quiet, and without the edge he's come to expect from her, before practically disappearing into the darkness.