The rays of morning light spear through the window and into the room. Dousing the walls and floor in a warm glow. Armen lay awake in the corner, not a single moment of sleep had been taken of him. His mind raced through the night and in turn robbed him of any rest. Though his eyes were sunken and growing purple in his sockets, he felt no fatigue. Only the excitement of holding a duty within himself, the petrifying responsibility to Cathedral and the Lord. Yet he knew: someone must do it. Why not himself?

  He sits up and looks at Mariette, whom lay awake, watching him from her bed, still with her hands tucked under her pillow. "Good morning, Armen... Did you sleep at all?"

  "Nay..."

  "I couldn't either..."

  "Regardless, we must be up now. There is much to do..." Armen instructs, even though he didn't know what it is that they might be able to do as of yet. As if his reservations to their situation were audible, Mariette inquires, "Such as what??"

  Armen breathes harshly through his nostrils, not angry, but at the very least annoyed that she inadvertently called his bluff. He shrugs, lost for response, "I...I don't know... something. We must find something that might lead me in the right direction. Perhaps..." he paces the floor a few steps, "Perhaps mother... She was involved, even by her own admission... maybe she has a memoir or ledger that we could glean from..."

  Mariette looks at him with a lacking patience, "So... you mean to say that we are to go back to the convent???"

  Armen grits his teeth, frustrated beyond words that this entire journey had led to nothing of use to him. "I'm afraid that... we came..." it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not yell in frustration, each new syllable only gave him an ache to bite his tongue in profound irritation. "All of this way... for nothing."

  Mariette pinches the bridge of her snout, and winces upon hearing the words uttered to her. There was little more she wished for less than to return to that befouled place, though she knew that eventually she must return, on behalf of her sisters, she hoped it weren't so soon.. She chirps up, voice hopeful for proper reason in their seeming back-and-forth journey, "Maybe... it is just a trial of patience... yes?"

  "I assume so. With that thought, I might save my own sanity of this... aggravating circumstance..." his words were accompanied by flecks of spittle that splattered the inside of his helmet. An illustration of his ire being spent so quickly that one might think he was always irritable. "Let us say farewell to our friend, William, before we depart. I'm sure he shall miss us."

  "Oh, of course! I wouldn't allow us to leave without thanking him for his hospitality." Mariette echoes the sentiment. Though it instilled within her a certain longing sorrow that she would have to say goodbye, even if it was hopefully only momentarily, to the one person in this town thus far that had been so kind and considerate.

  Armen descends the stairs as Mariette follows behind him, though her steps were painfully slow compared. She shadows him a good distance away, each new step she took seemed more daunting than the last. As Armen passes the old badger that apparently never left behind the bar, he gave a nod towards the counter and brushed his two forefingers across the temple of his helm, signaling departure. The badger, with a new relief that washed over him as a cool misting rain, nods back, unable to hide the tugging smirk at his lips.

  Crossing the street, there was little of note. Everyone mulled about in their usual endeavors, now numb and unconcerned with the human knight within their village. They reach the door to the post, yet, before Armen can rap his knuckles upon the wood, it swings open with a groan. "Thou hath come to visit?!" came that fun little voice from beyond the threshold. "Oh! How splendid! I've been hoping you would eventually come over! I even cleaned the place up! Come in, come in!"

  Frozen, Armen looks into the post that was waiting for guests, noting how, at least from his place beyond the door, it was exceptionally spic. Armen looks down upon the portly little fox manolon that stood before him with arm swinging wide to beckon him in. His brow kneads together and he presses his lips into each other, unsure of how to bring such a hopeful, joyous man to the disappointment he brought.

  Before Armen could say anything, Mariette gently clasps his arm, forcing herself to speak before Armen, her grip on his arm tender, but still firm. "Oh William! How could you hope to have us over?! All you ever need to do is ask! Of course we will come in, thank you so kindly!" She looks up to Armen, whom hadn't said a word, nor looked upon her in any particular annoyance. She nudges his shoulder with her own, keeping her voice to just the two of them, "Only a small visit couldn't hurt. We cannot disappoint him twice over."

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  Armen, lightly disgruntled, nods, "Thou art right, the least we could do is humor his generosity." Even though he spoke as though it were an inconvenience and held a facade of annoyance, Armen was satisfied that Mariette had taken charge. Nothing would have made him want to bring such dejecting news, certainly not against William, but hospitality wasn't a manner that Armen was familiar with.

  Inside, the entire room smelled of dust that was kicked up by a recent broom, though, the rest of the place was clean and tidy. A stark contrast to the first time they had entered several days ago. Now it seemed as though it were a frequented and professional establishment, like those seen in a major city. Scrolls tightly bound and organized into cupboards, books and ledgers stacked neatly upon shelves, quills and inkwells were all positioned in their respective places upon the counter where William had usually sat. It was a refreshing scene: that William had begun to return to his job with a greater care and enthusiasm. How long it may last as such? Irrelevant, it only mattered that the duty had been undertaken at all.

  They make through the stone arch that led into the small hovel that attached to the side of the post tower; his home. It was just as neat and proper as the post itself, though Armen had never seen what its status was before now, he had assumed that it would have likely been just as ratty if not more-so. William led them through his open hovel, weaving around the table that crept into the kitchen, cramping the entire area, and past the wooden half-wall that spanned across center of the home from the far side. Clearly segmenting the otherwise empty room into two sections that made the kitchen-dining combination, and the bedroom. In which Armen, standing well over the barrier wall, could see there was a single small table next to a mat made of various animal hides laid atop another. Despite the impoverished state of the home, William had indeed made it into a cozy one. Inside Armen felt, very nearly, at ease for the first time in several months.

  William, in the midst of chattering to Mariette about something or other, begins placing pewter bowls upon the table, metal chiming as they rolled on their feet against the wood. Mariette, with her attention stolen from William and given to the undulating plates, asks of him, "William, what are these? I didn't think thee had any tableware beyond the clay bowls you had brought to our room."

  "Oh! Good sister, no I normally don't eat from these. They were my mother's, and I make sure to never use them unless it is for an occasion." he chortles, pushing his glasses up his snout, practically bouncing on his toes.

  "Occasion?" Mariette echoes, biting the crook of her forefinger in the front row of teeth as she looks to Armen with a cocked brow.

  "Yes! Yes, I think it is a great occasion that I host such guests as you! Of course I am to make it as splendid as I may. Thou art very distinguished and I cannot host such honor with mere clay bowls and wooden spoons! How insulting I would be!"

  Armen stands to the side of the table, clasping his wrist in front of his waist as he idly watches William set the table. Should he offer to help? Or might he think it was insulting for a guest to do anything? Would William perhaps feel inadequate or lame if he were to assist? Surely not. Yet, he did organize the tableware with such gaiety and fervor, and for something so trivial; who was Armen if he should impede upon that joyous temperament? They had little time, but could Armen break this little old manolon's pride by telling him that they cannot stay while toiling on their behalf? Only a quick meal of bread, he should limit William.

  After the table is placed orderly and neat with a practiced efficiency, William pulls a chair out for Mariette, beckoning the two to sit down. "Come now! Sit, sit! I shall make you a lovely meal, a fish I had brought from the market yesterday. It is soaking in a brine and is ready for a flame now. I will fetch some wine and bread for thee to placate your appetites while it cooks." William speaks with an urgency of a child that had found a neat frog or stone, vying for the attention of his parents to come look at his discovery. Armen scowls behind his faceplate, stoning his heart over at the thought of denying William this so desperately enthused event.

  "William... Please, may you only bring us the bread? I am afraid that we are due to leave. We came to bid you well..." Armen monotonously tones out, not looking upon William's undoubtedly disappointed face.

  "Oh... Leave, you say?" his hands begin to wring together embarrassingly while eyes sink to the ground, his heel lightly scuffing the floor as he swings his stumpy leg to and fro at his waist. "I... I see... Well... It is a great shame that you must depart from us here, I, for one, have greatly enjoyed your presence..." Looking up to Armen, "Where is it that you must go in such a hurry?" Then, he snaps his fingers in the air towards Armen in a sudden recollection, "Oh, right, Inquisition business. Apologies, I meant not to pry."

  Armen attempts no reply, only pressing his lips together and tilting his head down in a barely-perceptible nod. Mariette, seeing the awkwardness approach as a rampant bull, claps her hands together, yanking William's attention from his spectacles that he polished with his tunic. "So, as he says: we cannot stay long, dear friend. We would, however, be morose to not at least enjoy your company for only a short while afore we depart. It would mean so much to me if we could break bread and laugh before separating. I know not when I may be back to see you, William, and Armen likely will not be..."

  William nods, though he looked to stifle tears that misted in his eyes. He dons his glasses once more, only magnifying the somber beads in his head and their swollen drops of water lodged in the lower lids. "You're right, miss Mariette. I think it would be wonderful to share one last loaf together... No good is it: to journey with empty bellies."