The scouts met up with two other scouts and started arguing.

Rose shifted on her elbows. "Heh, look at them. If they were Lady Grey's spies, we wouldn't even see them. These guys are amateurs. If I were looking for escapees in this area, I'd send two search parties, one to scour the town ruins, one to scour the mountains. A couple patrols would secure the forest and southern mountainside."

She glanced at Solomon. "Hungry? I found a sack of bread in town. It's over there beside the princess."

Solomon shrugged. "Alright. I could eat." Solomon crouch-walked to where the bread was beside Amalthea. "Do you want some?" He asked, grabbing enough for two. Even if she didn't want some, it'd just be a bit more for Solomon. He hardly ate at the inn, and he felt outright starved at this point. he crouch walked his way back to Rose.

"Alright, I could eat," Solomon replied. He waddled over to the sack, withdrew a few pieces of bread, and handed one to Rose. "Do you want some?" he asked.
She looked at him, then at his offering. "Aw, thanks." Rose plucked it from his hand and nibbled on it. Considering the bread endured dust, heat, and blunt force, it wasn't bad, if a bit stale.

The two chewed in silence as they watched the enemy scouts the way nobles watched theater. Rose whispered live commentary on their blunders and exploits, cackling whenever they drew weapons at nothing, stumbled into traps, or bickered over each other's incompetence, and staring with rapt attention when they expressed frustration or gathered for meetings. Rose even named one of the scouts: Bob the Clumsy, a scout who always dove head-first into whatever trap, real or imaginary, was nearby.

"Look, look, Bob's going into the barn now. I'm betting he'll impale himself on the fried straw in there. Two cents says he'll complain to HR." Rose tore off another bite as she watched the scout enter the barn. No activity for a few minutes. Then he came out again nursing his arm, and rushed over to his commander to display it as if he'd won a prize. Rose slapped Solomon on the arm. "What'd I tell you? Nailed it."

She strained to see what his partner was doing at the general store ruins. "Can you make out what that guy's doing over by the general store? You might be able to see him better than I can."

"You certainly know your stuff." Solomon smiled at her. When she mentioned the scout at the general goods store, he decided to take a look, narrating the scout's actuons.

"It seems like... Phil the -um- Amateur is trying to figure out whether or not we would set up camp in such a broken down building. Or he's wondering if anything good is inside. Okay Phil is walking in. I can see through a burnt hole in the store. He's just giving the place a clean sweep. Aaaaaand he took a couple of carrots and putting them in his satchel, next to what I am going to assume are his knives."

Solomon couldn't help but snicker quietly. "I will never know as much about scouting as you would, Rose, but I'm quite sure you aren't supposed to loot, not even ashy carrots."

"You certainly know your stuff," he'd told her. Doubtless he meant it as a compliment, but it bit her just the same.
She certainly knew...how to kill a good man.
She certainly knew...how to hunt down an innocent princess.
She certainly knew...how to help the forces of evil.
Yes, she certainly knew her stuff.

Guilt surged through her once again. She kept her gaze focused on the enemy, unable to look Solomon in the eye. "Thank you, I try," she replied, making sure her tone remained even and revealed nothing.

Solomon took a stab at narrating how the other scouts were faring. Rose decided it would make a good opportunity to forget her guilt, and watched with interest as Solomon interpreted what he could see. He soon had her cackling again after he introduced the carrots.

At the end, though, he resumed his inadvertent crusade to resurface her guilt. "I will never know as much about scouting as you would, Rose, but I'm quite sure you aren't supposed to loot, not even ashy carrots."

The 'ashy carrots' line would normally have sent her giggling. But Solomon didn't know how deathly scared she'd been of those enemy scouts, nor of the guilt he kept insensitively pricking. She decided it was high time to tell him.
One cannot fix a problem that is not first put to light.
"It's not that I know so much more about scouting than they do, really," she began quietly. "It's just that...well, bad guys don't seem so scary when you can laugh at them, you know? It takes away their power over you. If you can recognize their strengths and flaws and see them for who they are, you can more appropriately choose when to run and when to stand strong. Honestly, even one of these guys could eat you for breakfast with one hand tied behind his back. If they see us, it's over. But we don't stand a chance if we cower behind our rocks quivering every time they look this way."

She paused to find her words. In her mind, she drafted up half a dozen ways to broach the matter of his pricking her conscience, but they all felt like victim-blaming, fishing for compliments, or worse. So she kept her mouth shut and smiled.

I'll brood on it later.

Rose looked again to the newly-cristened Phil the Amataur. Now he was looting the bakery, near the same place Rose herself had looted the sack of bread rolls. "Yup, looting ashy carrots definitely falls outside the bounds of civilized behavior," she quipped. The midnight dark was all that made her joking smirk seem real.

Solomon patted Rose on the back and nods. "You're right. We'll have to fight eventually. When we do, though, it will be on our own terms I hope." He smiled. "By then, we would have laughed at them enough to make them seem like nothing compared to us. Also, I could probably take on at least one of them, oh ye of little faith." he joked. "With the hand tied behind his back, at least."

Solomon watch Phil as well. "Well, I mean the bread you got was different. We needed that." He sighed. He started noticing the little things he was talking about, like the bread and all that, may have not been doing much good for Rose, given what she said to him. Despite feeling bad about it, he couldn't help but feel some relief as well. He wasn't the only one who was terrified, and, in all honesty, that was the only time he used humor. He found it to be a fantastic coping mechanism. He never considered using humor in the way Rose did, however. Making the enemy seem more vulnerable. It was like mental propaganda. He could respect that, especially in moments like these.

"I seriously hope I'm benefitting something to this conversation." he mumbled.

Solomon patted Rose on the back. "You're right. We'll have to fight eventually. When we do, though, it will be on our own terms I hope. By then, we would have laughed at them enough to make them seem like nothing compared to us. Also, I could probably take on at least one of them, oh ye of little faith. With the hand tied behind his back, at least."

Rose giggled a little. "I like your confidence. With you leading the way, I think we could take on anyone." She pulled back a hair behind her ear and smiled at him.

"I sersly h- I'm -fitting th- cnvers," Solomon mumbled.
She glanced back. "Pardon?" I seriously hope I'm fitting this conversion? That doesn't sound right.
Just then, Princess Amalthea loudly yawned and stretched her arms. Rose hurried to put a finger to the girl's lips, but the Princess decided to take it as an insult. "What the heck, Rose? What, am I already making too much noise for you?"
Panicking, Rose shoved a hand over her mouth and fought to silence her. "Hush!" she hissed. "Enemy scouts are looking for us! You'll give us away!" She glanced back. It was too late; the scouts had heard the nose and started coming their way. Rose growled and palmed her dagger.

"Looks like we'll have to run. Solomon, get us out of here."

Solomon didn't seem to have time to be mad at Amalthea at the moment. He pulled he hair back as the scouts advanced. He looked around for the best way to escape. They were coming from the village, so there was no point in going there, so the best bet would be the forest, since he didn't exactly know how well either of the women could scale cliffs.

"This way, c'mon!" He shouted at them, running towards the forest. Instead of sprinting however, he ran at a pace the two could easily pass. Solomon decided it was best to take up the rear so that he could combat the pursuers first, if they ever caught up. There was also the fact that the two seem rather distracted by him not wearing his upper robes, which he was forced to leave behind. With him in the back, the two would be at one less distraction.

Rose and Amalthea ran for the forest as fast as they could. Rose pulled ahead, and used her speed advantage to select optimal routes through the forest. The four enemy scouts stayed close at their heels. If there was going to be a fight, they had about half a second to prepare. Amalthea's untrained body would run out of stamina in a minute or so, after which she would slow down and get everyone caught.

And so, Rose formulated a plan. The princess was a good shot with a bow, but Rose was the one carrying it. It would take several seconds to put it in the right hands, which was several seconds too long. Solomon would have to buy them time. They would have to trust that he could hold off four trained assassins for at least a few seconds, trust that the princess could shoot strait, trust that she could stop them by shooting them, and pray that they would have enough energy for all of that after sprinting at full speed.

It was now or never.

She grabbed the princess by the collar and dragged them both to the ground, sending them careening down the bank of a stream. The sudden halt forced a confrontation, and in a blink, all four scouts descended upon Solomon. Rose removed the bow and arrows and shoved them at the princess.

Amalthea grabbed them, sat up, and took aim. The bow twanged four times. Two scouts dropped, but were far from dead. One was hit in the shoulder, but tried to resume fighting. Rose growled, ran up to him and stuck her dagger in his neck. He peeled her off and tossed her to the ground, but the damage was done. He stumbled and collapsed beside his dazed attacker.

The fourth scout, whom the fourth arrow missed, attacked Solomon with the skill and precision of a trained assassin. His blade snapped through the air like a lightning bolt: There would be a flash of steel, followed by a thunderous roaring in the ears. Hair would stand up on end for how close each swing brought a violent end.

They could escape if they continued running.

As the fourth scout attacked, Solomon was forced to backpedal. The swings were too close for comfort, the blade swipes cutting the air close to his body. He got stabbed a few times in the last 24 hours, and he wasn't all too keen on being stabbed again. At that point, Solomon was given a few choices. Fight this guy with the intention of winning, fight him with the intention of distracting, or two cut his losses and run.

The only advantage he saw if he fought was the reach of his staff, which far surpassed the assassin's steel. There was also the added benefit that his staff was designed to defend against swords. This would be a wholly different battle entirely if the assassin were to use something more destructive like a mace or axe.

As Solomon backpedaled, he went from holding his staff close to himself defensively to keeping the attacker back with powerful jabs. He considered sweeping attacks, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave himself entirely open to the assassin's blade. The jabs were aimed at the center of the scout's chest. If he was wearing armor, these attacks would only push him back, if not, there rang the possibility of cracking a rib or two.

Lastly, Solomon was running out of space to retreat. He couldn't keep walking backward forever. He minded the direction he was going, towards the bank but at an angle. Soon enough, the perfect shot would be lined up for the princess, should she have any arrows left. Despite Solomon's choice to attack while retreating, that was his final goal, and he hoped Amalthea would catch up to that idea before Solomon fell back first into the bank.

The assassin weaved around most of Solomon's jabs, but one connected. One was enough to provide an opening. The jab threw off the assassin's rhythm, giving Solomon the opportunity to line up the shot for the princess.

Meanwhile, Amalthea drew her bow and watched the fight unfold.
It's all my fault, she told herself as the assassin came within a hair's breadth of killing her hero.
It's all my fault, she thought as Solomon retreated step by step toward the bank of the stream.
It's all my fault!

She gritted her teeth. Her muscles tensed. Her grip on the bow wavered. I have to make this count. Solomon and the assassin weaved back and forth on the grass. A jab here, a slice there, then a backstep. Twice they narrowly avoided tripping over roots and rocks in the earth. Amalthea's knuckles whitened. She couldn't make the shot. She'd risk hitting Solomon.

A sudden, but subtle, shift changed the flow of battle. The men stopped weaving around the battlefield. The princess had a clear line of fire.

By the power vested in me, let my aim be true and my shot be deadly.

She let loose the arrow.

The flames of magic propelled it through the neck armor and carotid artery. The assassin dropped like a rock. The two still living got to their feet, swords drawn and itching for revenge, both of them just as skilled as the fallen one. Amalthea nocked another arrow, but the assassins wouldn't fall to the same trick twice. They charged past Solomon and straight for the princess instead. The moonlight glinted their blades.

Their swords cut through air. Their target had darted under their legs. Surprised, they glanced back to see Amalthea grab the fallen assassin's sword and level it at them. In their ignorance, they charged her again. Her eyes flared with newfound strength.

They locked blades with a master swordfighter.

Steel sang like a death bell when Amalthea struck back. She backed away toward Solomon and took a position at his side. "What do you say we keep fighting?"

Rose paled.
Don't do it. Run.

Believe it or not, Solomon considered grabbing the princess and running. They would just have to fight these guys another day, though. It was either a fair fight now or a backstab later. Solomon preferred the fair fight, and the first assassin didn't do any significant harm to him. He was ready for another round. As he considered striking against the assassin's, another, familiar yet insane thought floated through his mind. Something he laughed off earlier...

He shifted his stance so the back of his right hand showed towards the assassins, the moonlight shining on the mark. In his stance, even if they were to attack, he would be ready, but he still hoped for this third option to yield some result.

"So here you stand against someone bearing the Mark of a Hero." He started, his tone came off as threatening, yet calm. To the girls, he would sound almost like another man entirely. "Take one more step forward, and the princess and I will not hold back. You have this one warning."

This is such a dumb idea... He thought as he threatened the two.

The assassins faltered. For the first time that night, they noticed his hands. The diamond star seemed so obvious now; the way this common courier fended them off with nary a scratch could not have been coincidence. One of the assassins sheathed his sword, stretched out his hand, and motioned for Solomon to approach and show his.

Rose and Amalthea watched with bated breath.
Could this really work?

As Solomon ever so slowly approached, he found himself to be more terrified now than he was moments ago just fighting them. He turned back to Rose and Amalthea, trying to give them a confident look, but his eyes went from Amalthea's sword back to her eyes, trying to tell her without words to be ready for whatever happened.

When he got a few feet away, he showed the Mark to them. It will be all the more visible now. He put his staff in a defensive position, making sure it covered the arm he extended to them, as he half expected the man to grab his arm and have his compatriot lop it off.

"See? I don't care much for fighting you assassins, and I highly suggest you turn around and go back the way you came. I will not gloat, and there will be no shame in a wise retreat on your part." He said with a tone that did well to hide that he was using all the strength in his body not waver.

The assassin cautiously took Solomon's hand and examined the Mark. The diamond star was longer vertically and shorter horizontally, and embedded deeper and thicker than any normal tattoo. It was indeed genuine.

"That's the Mark all right..." the assassin murmured. His voice was surprisingly young, belonging to a teenager barely breaking into adulthood. He looked at the other assassin, whose feminine voice came out equally young.
"We could be officers," she reminded.
The male assassin looked Solomon in the eye. "I don't wanna be on the wrong side of history, let alone die tonight. Just don't blab to anyone, okay? We could both be hung for this."

Solomon nodded. That worked. That actually worked. Even with everyone alive, he couldn't help but feel a lack of pride. "Agreed. I sincerely apologize for your comrades." He bowed apologetically. "Don't follow us." He started to walk backwards slowly, eying them both, and then turned around to see how Amalthea and Rose reacted to the scene. The look he gave them with his back turned to the assassins was that of I really think we should move as far away from here as possible. Despite his plan working, he wasn't sure how long it would stay this peaceful.

As they retreated, Amalthea made the two-finger watching you gesture at the assassins. Then, when they were out of earshot: "Oh, Solomon! You were great!" she crowed. "At first you were all, 'I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came,' and then you're all like, 'there is no shame in a wise retreat.' Ah ha ha ha! That was so awesome! I love it! I love you!" She ribbed him and shot him an uninhibited grin.

Rose looked back at the assassins. The assassins looked back at her. She clenched her fists and tore away her gaze to the path ahead. Rose had just helped kill two young people her age, two people whose failure to see the truth cost them their lives. Regret tugged at her soul. The princess, however, seemed to relish the opportunity to kill her enemies. Solomon might appreciate it, especially when his life was on the line, but Rose couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand it in herself.

Was Solomon okay with killing people? He didn't talk about it much. He'd brutally fought against her men back at the inn, and had no problems smacking around the assassins with his staff. Maybe...maybe she didn't have to feel so guilty about killing him and others if he'd killed people too. But he wouldn't have killed innocents. Not like bloody Rose.

Amalthea had started talking about previous Heroes. The animated way she pitched her voice, the wide-eyed excitement on her face, and the wild waves of her hands spoke not only of interest in the subject, but also of interest in the one addressed. There was no telling yet whether it was simply lust or genuine attraction, but one thing was sure - Rose wouldn't get a chance to impress Solomon tonight. His strategic decision had carried the day, and the princess's deadly shots saved their lives. Rose had just been tossed aside.

And why shouldn't she? She'd tried to kill Solomon. She owed him her life. Being tossed aside by her enemies was the least she deserved. At the capital, she'd likely be hanged, or drawn and quartered if all her crimes came to light. Romance would only get Solomon hurt if he ever reciprocated.

So she shoved it down. She would be his platonic servant to the end. "Thank you for saving us, Solomon," she said at last during a pause in Amalthea's dissertation. "I know I put you in a hard spot, and you really pulled through for us. You're destined for great things."

Amalthea nodded. "It's true! I'm so proud of you, Solomon! Seriously! I can't wait to tell my father all about you. He's going to love you."

Rose just smiled and walked in silence.

Solomon was about to address the group until Amalthea started talking about heroes past and himself. He heard her give every praise in the book to him and then some. The sudden burst of talkative energy from Amalthea was quite a lot to take in, especially being as worried as he was just moments ago. He only half listened to Amalthea, just being happy they were all alive.

"Thank you, Amalthea, but you should be proud too. Your shots saved our skins." He smiled. "You are rather skilled with both the sword and the bow. Maybe later, you could train me."

And then he looked to Rose as she blamed herself for all that had transpired. When she spoke those words in that tone, something struck him that made him feel empathy towards her. What struck him was the familiarity of her situation.

"And let's not forget Rose. That was a bold move, jumping into the bank with Amalthea in order to give her the bow and arrows. You both were certainly much bolder than I." He sighed, sitting down on a large stone. He brushed his hair back once more and stared blankly at his Mark. The questions about it still circled in his head, but it seems these unanswered questions were just part of his cross to bear.

"It didn't feel right, doing that." He started. What he did back there was just a joke at first thought, but as it happened, it made him feel cowardly. He took a bit of loose cloth in one of his pockets and tied it around the Mark. "I would rather not use this symbol as a shield. I will use the strengths it gives me to keep us safe, but flashing it about to every assassin is something I will try to avoid. We'll have to find other ways to deal with them, in the coming times."

"Thank you, Amalthea, but you should be proud too. Your shots saved our skins. You are rather skilled with both the sword and the bow. Maybe later, you could train me."
Still high off the adrenaline of battle, the princess drew a long gasp and clutched at her chest. "Oh my gosh! I know, right? We were like a power couple! We were totally badass." She giggled.
Solomon looked back at the solemn girl trailing behind them. "And let's not forget Rose. That was a bold move, jumping into the bank with Amalthea in order to give her the bow and arrows. You both were certainly much bolder than I."
Amalthea offered Rose a condescending smile. "Absolutely. You were a big help today," she said. Rose shrank, saying nothing.

Then, Solomon remarked, "I didn't feel right, doing that."
"How do you mean?" Amalthea replied.
Solomon withdrew a piece of cloth from his pocket and wrapped it around his hand, covering the Mark. "I would rather not use this symbol as a shield. I will use the strengths it gives me to keep us safe, but flashing it about to every assassin is something I will try to avoid. We'll have to find other ways to deal with them, in the coming times."
Rose reached out to touch his back, to comfort him. But it would have crossed a line. Such an intimate gesture should only be shared among friends, people he could trust, not undeserving traitors. Besides, it might make the princess jealous. Her fingers flexed, bent, then curled in - she couldn't bring herself to touch him.

Instead, Rose folded her hands behind her back and increased her pace to approach Solomon's side. She opened her mouth to speak, but Amalthea spoke first. "Why?" the princess asked. "Soldiers display their regalia all the time, showing to the whole world who they're fighting for. Why shouldn't you do the same? You're the Hero, for crying out loud! Everyone should be flocking to your side, and anyone who doesn't is an idiot. Make every enemy make a choice: Join you or die. I mean, it's not like they'll have much choice anyway. If you don't show them the mark, they'll just think you're a nobody and get themselves killed by underestimating you. But if you let your Mark be plainly visible, you'll be giving them a chance."

Before Solomon could reply, Rose said, "No, he's right. The Mark is a trump card. If he plays it too early, he is liable to be manipulated or strong-armed into doing something he shouldn't before he's strong enough to resist. Remember, we only just barely got away from those assassins, and they were relatively new. If we met any serious opposition, they'd just laugh at us and cut off the Marked hand for a trophy. And don't even get me started on orc warriors. Assassins wet themselves when they see orcs. Those green monsters have to fight tooth and nail from the day they're born just to survive. The Mark won't do anyone a whole lot of good until Solomon is strong enough to wield its true power."

"Well," Amalthea retorted, struggling to think of a comeback, "how about we let Solomon decide, hmm?"

The two girls looked to Solomon for an answer.

Solomon looked at the mark, now buried under the wraps, once more finding himself deep in thought and inner conflict. They both had valid points. Of course Amalthea took the side of displaying his status as a hero. She loved the idea of him being one, and heroes in general seemed to be something Amalthea adored. Her idea might make the lesser assassins tremble and run as the previous ones did, but Rose pointed out something Solomon feared: the target on his back -or hand rather. This thing was beginning to be something of a bother to him at the moment, at least until he unlocked its, and his, full potential.

"I've made up my mind." He looked at them both. "I'll keep it hidden for now." He had been thinking on this new idea for a while after the two brought up their points, and even before then, once he had learned about the ability to learn any skill and not forget one.

"While we are on our way to the kingdom, and maybe even after, depending on how this all goes, I'll start learning. Every weapon, skill, strategy, and... maybe even some magic. After I learned enough, after I help people, after I'm worth bearing this mark, I'll start showing it. For now, however, I haven't learned all that much yet, and I have no skills that show any difference between me and someone without the mark."

After he finished his short speech, he noticed a cold breeze in the night.

"Please tell me one of you grabbed my shirt because I, for one, did not." he chuckled.