#ranger's apprentice

I got the idea for this fanfic after Ice posted this art for the Ranger Gathering. Seeing today's post, I decided to write a scene around the art.

“What will you be wearing to the party?”

It was a casual question, meant well and with no hidden message. Yet it took Caroline a long time to answer it.

Caroline was sitting on the extra bed that Pauline had placed in her bedroom. It had been a last minute change of plans that the Ranger slept there.

“Probably that gala uniform,” Caroline answered softly. It was a uniform that the whole Corps had to wear for Halt and Pauline’s wedding. At that time, she had been Crowley. “Not sure if it still fits.”

Pauline had been washing her hair and was about to start putting it up nicely when she had asked the question. She stopped in her tracks, the towel in her hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Caro. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She laid the towel aside and sat down next to her. She sometimes still needed to remind herself that a lot of things were a first time for Caroline.

“I know,” Caroline replied. She blinked away a few tears that had been forming in the corner of her eyes. “It’s also my own fault. I should have taken it out sooner and had it altered. I did want to do that for our wedding, but I was afraid of other people’s reactions.”

After Pauline and Halt got married, Caroline had told them that she was rather a woman than a man. She knew that it was safe to tell them; from a young age, she knew that Halt was attracted to men and Pauline to women. They only got married to make people stop talking behind their backs.

At first, Halt and Crowley had been dating in secret. They knew each other like themselves, always the same way of thinking. When Halt got married, Crowley thought that he started to keep distance because of that. The more time he spent with Pauline, the more he started to realise that he wasn’t a man.

“Don’t say that. Although not fitting anymore for you as person, it still holds warm memories to that moment.” Pauline’s word pulled her out of the thought. “And maybe it’s a good thing that you didn’t alter it. That way, you can see to start fresh. As Caroline and not like it’s an alternation of who you once were.”

Caroline wasn’t sure what Pauline was trying to say, but she did perk up when her wife walked to the wardrobe.

“There is one dress that I bought some time ago. Thinking back, I have no idea why I even got it. Although it fits me well, it doesn’t really match me. But perhaps I bought it because it could be worn by someone else.”

Pauline let out a soft ‘Ah!’ when she found the dress she was looking for. She pulled it out of the wardrobe and held it in front of Caroline.

“It’s a spare one, but what do you think? Would this be to your liking?”

Caroline’s eyes opened wide, a hand placed on her mouth. She slowly got up, walking over to Pauline. Her fingers touched the fabric; the satin was soft and smooth, sliding easily through her fingers.

“Can I try it on?”

Halt took a sip from the glass of red wine that he was holding in his hand. He had agreed to wait for his wives, as he affectionally called Pauline and Caroline. The ball room was slowly becoming crowded the more people arrived.

“They’re taking their time, don’t you think?”

Halt turned around to see Baron Arald heading his way. The man was wearing a rather tight suit; blue with a touch of gold, representing the colours of his department.

“Unlike me, they like to dress well and give the impression they’re not raised by raccoons.”

Halt acted as if he meant it, but the truth was that he himself wasn’t that bad in dressing nicely. He had gone to the hairdresser and barber, making sure that his hair and beard were neat instead of what he usually looked like.

His hair was now moved back, kept in place with gel and a touch of hairspray. He was wearing a light grey suit, with underneath a light tan gilet and a broken white blouse. The finishing touch was a red and blue handkerchief in the pocket on his chest and his flat shoes.

Baron Arald wanted to comment on the man’s sense of style when his attention was taken by something else. Or more precise, someone else.

They had been standing near the staircase. It was one that had a big middle part and would then divide into two; one to the left, one to the right. The staircase went up a little higher than the platform they were standing on. At the top of the stairs, one had to descend a few steps to be at the same level the two men were.

“It’s almost a pity you’re not attracted to women,” Baron Arald said, his eyes focused on the women that were walking there.

“One doesn’t have to be into women in the way you’re hinting at,” Halt replied, following his friend’s gaze. “Even I can see that they’re two very fine ladies.”

On the left side of the staircase, was Pauline. She was wearing a light blue dress, without sleeves. The dress was cut low on her back, showing her skin until around her waist. The fabric was tightfitting, showing her elegant figure. She had braided her hair and then rolled it up into a bun, using pins to keep it in place. She had finished her look by putting in golden drop shaped earrings with a blue gemstone in the middle and a golden bracelet on her left wrist; a nice addition to her golden wedding band on her left ring finger.

Next to her, Caroline had one arm locked in. Her dress was a deep wine-red, had an open back as well, but hers had sleeves that connected at the top of her shoulders. On the left side, there was a high leg slit, revealing the lace pantyhose she was wearing underneath. On her lower back were also two lace parts visible. Just like Pauline’s, her dress was also showing her fine figure. Her long, curly red hair was hanging down over her shoulders.

Several people had stopped talking to look at the women as they ascended the stairs. Some whispered to each other, pointing at who was the best looking.

Caroline looked over her shoulder, spotted Halt and moved her hand to place it on Pauline’s shoulder. She laid her head on top of it, sending her friend a warm smile. Her golden wedding band seemed to shine bright on her left ring finger.

For a moment, Halt felt a fire lit in his chest, but it had a very different meaning than it used to have.

As the two women made her way to the platform, a few men offered them their hand or arm. It was almost amusing to see their faces the moment Pauline and Caroline turned them down. Halt had finished his glass and placed it on a table nearby.

“I hope we didn’t let you wait for a long time,” Pauline said, stopping in front of him.

“Not at all.” Halt took her hand, planting a soft kiss on it. “One should never tell a lady to hurry up, especially when she is preparing herself for a party.”

He then looked at Caroline, who was standing a bit hesitantly next to Pauline. Halt took her hands in his and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“You look absolutely wonderful, Caro. That dress really brings out your hazel coloured eyes.”

She didn’t know why she had been nervous to show up in front of Halt, but when she looked in his eyes, she only felt calmness.

“If you excuse me, Arald, I have two ladies to accompany.” Halt offered his arms to both of them. “Ladies.”

They knew that the mission would be dangerous. At least three piles of parchment had been laying in Crowley’s office, all related to one man: Thorgan the Smasher.

Just after the Tournament at Gorlan and Morgarath’s flee to the south, the first reports had been delivered. Now that the Ranger Corps was revived and real Rangers were stationed in the Kingdom, all sorts of incidents were reported and taken care of.

All, except for one, in the northeast part of Araluen.

The local Ranger, recovering from a injury, had written Crowley that he had heard rumours of a man going after travellers. During a patrol round, he had stumbled upon a number of bodies. They all had the same kind of fatal injury; a blow to the head.

Duncan, recently crowned as King, had asked Crowley to take care of it. If he wished, he could ask Halt to join him. Although young, the two Rangers had already shown they were capable of such tasks.

After doing some research, they had come up with their plan. They would go around as travellers, acting as if they were looking for a place to sell their pelts. Then, once they knew where to find the bandit and his helpers, they would take them down one by one.

All had gone well, until the moment the Rangers had split up to circle around the bandits. Crowley was closer to them than he had thought and was surprised when three of them showed up in front of him. Not seeing a way out, he was fighting for his life.

Suddenly, one of the men fell down, grasping at the arrow that was sticking out of his chest. His dead body fell down on the ground with a ‘thud’, but Crowley had no time to think about where the arrow came from.

He could see another bandit coming his way, swinging an axe dangerously close to him. Just in time, he managed to jump back, dodging the sharp edge of the weapon.

“Stand still!” the bandit grunted, already raising his arms to swing the axe around, ready to smash Crowley’s body.

He never got that far since an arrow was shot through his shoulder, locking the arm in its position. The bandit screamed out in agony. It was of a short time because a second arrow ended it when it went through his throat.

With two bandits down, Crowley’s chances of survival were much higher. Halt saw how his friend got his throwing knife, but before he could aim, the third bandit hit him in the head with his club.

“Crowley!”

Halt’s scream stopped the bandit momentarily. He was standing over the unconscious body of the Ranger, his hand already reached out to pick his up and end his life. That small moment cost him his own.

An arrow hit him in his shoulder, forcing him to let go of Crowley. His limp body fell on the ground, his head hitting the roots of a tree.

Turning around, the bandit saw Halt running towards him. He forgot his pain and pulled out his dagger, ready to stab the bastard.

He hadn’t counted on Halt’s quick reflexes. At the last moment, Halt rolled underneath the man’s arm with the dagger. He stood up behind him and, after taking his own saxe knife, ended the bandit’s life.

Halt pulled out his dagger from the man’s back. Without any blockage, blood streamed out of the gaping wound. It stained the man first then, as it hit the ground, the green grass slowly turned a dark red.

The young Ranger didn’t wait to see that happen. Instead, he was looking where Crowley was laying.

“Crowley!” Halt called again and sprinted his way.

Later on, he wouldn’t be able to tell what had warned him. Perhaps a bird that got startled, or the small ray of sun that hit the blade. Or perhaps it was his intuition.

Crowley was only a few steps away from him when Halt saw a shadow falling over him. Without thinking, he made a roll over his right shoulder. A massive club swung over him, at the height where just seconds ago his neck had been.

“You stand no chance, Ranger.” The bandit was standing in between him and Crowley. By the way he looked and, most importantly, his club, Halt knew it was Thorgan.

He tried to stand up, but the world was dangerously swaying. Only now did Halt feel the throbbing pain that was slowly spreading around. From the side of his head, he felt blood falling down into his neck.

“Don’t worry, you’ll soon join him,” Thorgan said. He watched how Halt was trying to stay on his two feet. By the looks of it, he didn’t have to hurry to end this whole fighting.

Just like his companion, Thorgan had miscalculated Halt’s strength.

Heavily unsteady on his feet, Halt held his saxe knife in his hand, his knuckles turning white. He forced himself to stay awake, at least until the moment that he had stabbed the man.

Thorgan began running to him, the massive club raised for one, final, fatal blow. That was the moment Halt chose to jump forward, his saxe pointed at the bandit’s chest.

Halt kept pressing until Thorgan fall backwards and then against a tree. His eyes were locked on the handle that was sticking out of his chest. He was too stunned to even think of pulling it out.

With the adrenaline wearing off, Halt’s body went limp. He managed to get to the place where Crowley was before he fell down, the world turning dark.

Days later, both young Rangers were awake and recovering. They had been discharged from the infirmary, but Halt had been bedridden. The blow that he had received had done more damage than Crowley’s.

Hoping to make the situation a bit better, Crowley had prepared the bed in his guest room. That way, he could keep an eye on his friend while Halt didn’t have to be all alone.

“How are you feeling?”

Crowley was sitting on the chair next to the bed. He had was doing his two hourly round to make sure Halt was doing alright.

Halt sighed, closing his eyes.

“Tired, just like two hours ago and the two hours before that.”

Crowley grinned. He wasn’t that easily scared away.

“So all good then,” he said. He reached to a cup of water standing on the night stand. Helping Halt sit up, he gave his friend something to drink.

Usually, he would then leave Halt alone to rest some more. Now, however, he stayed.

“What’s on your mind?” Halt asked. He had opened his eyes and saw Crowley’s face. In the short time spent together, he recognised the different emotions that were behind the way he looked.

“Why did you come back for me?” Crowley’s question took Halt by surprise. “You could have taken down Thorgan when we had split up.”

Halt stared at him for a moment.

“Because you needed help,” he replied. “If I hadn’t come, you would have been badly injured, or worse.”

“We vowed to end them, bringing them to be tried.” In Crowley’s mind, they had failed to do as they had promised. “Instead, we both got injured and they all ended up dead.”

Halt held up a hand, stopping the man’s spiral of thoughts.

“I am aware of that,” Halt spoke calmly. “But I made a vow long before that. One that’s more important to me than any other vow.”

“What’s that?” Crowley lifted his head, his eyes locked with Halt’s.

Alyss quickly walked through the corridors, her eyes reading the directions. At the same time, her hands were trying to put the car keys into her handbag. Her thoughts were running through each other, one question followed by the other.

She had been at work and was about to enter a meeting with another diplomat when her assistant pulled her aside. “Someone’s asking for you on the phone,” the young had said.

“They’ll have to call back later,” Alyss replied. “I’m busy at the moment. Who’s calling me?”

“Mister Altman.”

Alyss had excused herself, then hurried to her office to pick up the phone. Horace had been brief, telling that she had to go to the nearest hospital. He couldn’t say anything else because the signal was broken.

On her way outside, she briefly spoke to her boss, Pauline duLacy. She hadn’t said a lot, but Pauline could read in her eyes that it was serious.

Finally, she found the information desk.

“Excuse me,” Alyss said as she stopped in front of it. “I’m looking for Will Treaty. Do you know in which room he is?”

The old lady listened to her question, while at the same time looking up the name.

“May I ask what your relation is to him?” she inquired before answering. “Just standard procedures, madam. It’s to inform my colleagues of your visit.”

“I’m his partner,” Alyss responded.

The lady nodded once, then pressed a button on the laptop. A paper came rolling out which she filled in.

“Please, sign here,” she said and waited until Alyss had written down her name. She took the paper back and then put it in a file. “Mister Treaty is in the department Orthopaedic Trauma and Fractures. Go there to the information desk to know which room he exactly is.”

Alyss thanked the lady and then followed the route. It was easy to find and soon, she was standing at the information desk of the department.

“Please, take a seat. Your husband is at the Radiology at the moment. He should be back within some time.”

Controlling her breathing and racing thoughts, Alyss sat down in a chair. She took her phone and messaged Horace. Perhaps he would know where Will was.

After what seemed like hours, Horace replied to her message, saying he was on his way with Will.

“Miss Mainwaring?” a doctor called and Alyss raised to her feet immediately. She headed his way and was then taken to a room.

There, in the middle, she saw Will laying on a bed, his chest bare and wires attached to it. His left arm was in a cast, his face bruised. Aside from a few cuts, he eyed fine.

Horace was sitting next to the bed on a chair but stood up when Alyss arrived. He pointed to the chair and Alyss sat down, holding Will’s hand.

“What happened to you?” she asked, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. Then, turned to the doctor. “What happened to him?”

The doctor took his tablet and opened Will’s file.

“Your husband sustained a couple of injuries; a broken wrist, a couple of bruised ribs and lastly, a slight concussion. Aside from that, he’s gotten a few bruises on his body. Everything combined, he is quite lucky.”

The doctor then excused himself as he got paged away to see another patient.

Alyss waited until he was out of the room to ask again what had happened. It didn’t sit well with her that Will and Horace were sharing a glance. Even more because it was one that she had seen before.

“Will, I give you one chance to tell me what happened.” Her voice was calm, but Will knew her well enough to hear the hint of rage in it.

“Well,” Will started, looking at Horace for help. But his friend slightly shook his head, raising his hands. He left Will no choice than to tell it himself.

“Well, what?” Alyss said, her tone more direct and short.

“I might or might not have participated in a motorcycle rally.” The last two words were said so softly that Alyss had to strain her ear to catch them.

“You did what?”

“It all went well, but then I went over an obstacle and upon landing, I bent a bit too much forward. I ended up on the ground and my motorcycle fell on me, hench the bruised ribs. Hadn’t I fallen, I would have ended up first.” He said the last sentence casually, as if Alyss should be happy for him that he was on his way to win the rally. Instead, he now had to endure her ice cold glare.

“And I could have made a deal with the a diplomat of Ireland regarding international security but instead I’m sitting here in a hospital because my husband decided to go out for a ride.”

Will’s face paled when he heard her.

“That… that was today?”

Alyss’ eyes now flared up like fire.

“Yes, Treaty, that was today. You really picked out the worst date to go on that motor of yours.”

Horace was glad to be standing behind her. By looking at Will’s face, he understood that the otherwise calm diplomat was now really angry.

“I had expected more of his best friend,” Alyss suddenly said, turning herself to look at Horace. “You should have stopped him.”

Again, Horace raised his hands up.

“I didn’t know about it! Otherwise I would have warned him, really!”

Alyss got up from her place, her phone in her hand.

“W-where are you going?” Will asked when she walked towards the door.

“I’m going to call Pauline that I will be back at the office tomorrow. And after that, I will call Cassandra to tell her to pick her husband up.” She took two steps, then turned around again. “You will call your boss yourself, I’m not going to do that.”

Horace and Will watched her leave the room.

“Any chance that I can stay the night at Halt’s place?” Horace asked, looking at Will. “Cassie won’t forgive me for not stepping up. She had told me about that meeting of Alyss, but I forgot about it.”

Will shook his head, then remembered that he shouldn’t. A nasty headache was coming up, but perhaps it also had to do with what he had to do.

“I fear not. Aside from Alyss’ meeting, I was supposed to go on a business trip. Halt will personally kick me out of this bed once he hears about what I did.”

Five bandits had been brought to justice before them, tied up with ropes, bound with thumb cuffs and their boots, outer layers and weapons lying metres away from them, safely out of reach. 

Halt finished checking the knot on the rope, satisfied that his apprentice had done a good job at tying it. Will kneeled next to their weapons, inspecting the old things. They weren't in the greatest condition, he thought. The sharpening of the blades were uneven – some parts more dull than others, the leather around the knife and sword hilts were fraying, and he could spy a hint of rust on one of the daggers. Amateurs. He walked back over to Halt. 

"What are we going to do about the one that got away?" he asked. 

There were five bandits currently tied up, but there had been six. During their brief fight, one of them had cowered away from the rangers' weapons and skill and made a run for it. Too distracted fighting their opponents, Halt and Will could do nothing about it but watch. 

"We find him," Halt said simply. "It won't be too hard. He shouldn't have gotten far and he'll be on foot, while we have Abelard and Tug."

"True." Will followed Halt as he walked back over to where the horses had joined them not too far away and mounted up. "What are we going to do about them?" He jerked his head towards the snivelling men on the ground. 

Halt shrugged. "Leave them. You did a good job tying them up. I don't think they'll be leaving for a while. They'll still be here when we get back."

Will nodded, flushing slightly at the small praise. Genuine compliments from Halt like that were not a common thing, and even after spending almost two years with the man, he still wasn't fully used to it. 

They rode off in the direction they saw the man go, his trails easy to pick up and follow in the loose dirt. It wasn't long before they saw a figure running, stumbling a bit as he was clearly out of breath. 

"There he is!" Will said, unnecessarily. 

Halt would have given him some sarcastic comment along the lines of, 'Really? You don't say?' if he hadn't been focused on nocking an arrow onto his bow string. He squeezed his knees ever so slightly into Abelard’s sides, a familiar signal for him to go faster. 

The man was slowing down, becoming more and more out of breath as his endurance began to run out. He stopped for a moment with his hands resting on his knees as he drew huge gulps of air back into his lungs, trying to regain his energy for another burst of speed. But it was a mistake. A fatal mistake. 

Halt took the man’s pause as an opportunity and before he could finish completing a single refreshing breath, Halt released his arrow so it soared through the air, the sun glinting off the arrow head until it arched down and struck the man through his back, piercing him right through his chest.

He didn’t have time to be surprised, didn’t even have time to cry out. The arrow went straight through his heart, stopping it immediately and the man crumpled face down on the ground. 

Halt urged Abelard towards the fallen criminal, Tug and Will following close behind. They dismounted and Halt rolled the man over so he was on his back. His eyes were half closed, his mouth gaping open with a stream of blood pouring from his mouth like a disappointing waterfall. 

“Well, that’s that done,” Halt said resignedly. Will stared at the body, slightly wide-eyed.

“Did you mean to do that?” he asked.

“Hit him? Yeah, that was the point.”

Will shook his head a few times. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean did you mean to shoot him there? Did you mean to kill him?”

Halt nodded, not understanding why Will kept looking between him and the body with slight horror. “Yes. Like I said, that was the point.”

“But…” Will stammered, trying to find the right words. “He wasn’t a threat.”

“It’s our job to take care of them, Will,” Halt said, no trace of softness in his voice. “He was a criminal. A murderer.”

“But we just tied the others up. We didn’t actually kill them. Why didn’t you do the same with him? Why not just shoot to injure and then just bring him back?”

“He had it coming. He had the chance to stay and deal with it fairly, but he chose to run. This is on him.”

“But,” Will started again, but stopped. Was that how rangers worked? Just killed people who didn’t follow along? Not even giving them a chance? Not even finding an alternative? He wasn’t so sure if he would be able to do that.

“Will,” Halt said, his voice hard and firm. He could see the boy’s anxiety showing clearly on his face and he could guess what his train of thought might be. “He was a murderer. We don’t even know how many people he’s killed. He was a cold blooded man with no regard for other people’s lives.”

“But isn’t shooting him when he was running and unarmed the same thing as killing in cold blood? He had no defense.”

“Neither did the people he murdered,” Halt pointed out coldly. He nudged the man with his foot, gesturing to a small blade he had strapped to his belt. “And he wasn’t unarmed. See?”

Will ignored it. “It just… it doesn’t feel right. Why treat him any differently from the others? You could have aimed to injure but you didn’t. You just killed him.” He did mean to phrase it as an accusation, but that’s what it came out as. He looked down at the small hole in the man’s chest, the red stained arrow head sticking out of it. The man’s face was so pale. 

Halt took a breath before replying, and Will could tell he was getting more and more annoyed as the conversation went on. “I didn’t kill him for the sake of killing him, Will,” he said quietly. “I killed him, because he’s an inhumane shell of a man who has done horrible things and was too much of a coward to face up to it. He had his chance to survive, but he decided to run instead. He’s not any different from his friends. They just didn’t resist so they get a chance to rot away in a prison cell instead of rotting away right here. It’s what they deserve.”

Will went silent, thinking about what his mentor said. It made some sort of sense he supposed, but there was something about it that didn’t feel right. “Will I have to do that one day?”

Halt thought for a second. “No,” he replied. “Not this exact situation. You could aim to injure, but don’t judge me for not. At some point you’ll find killing is the only option.”

“But it wasn’t here!” Will burst out desperately, trying to get the older ranger to see his point of view. Halt just looked at him in a way that made Will drop his gaze to the floor. His mentor wasn’t quite glaring at him, but there was something in that look that Will didn’t want to see. He scuffed his boot around in the dirt, the dead man in the corner of his vision. He was a bit afraid to ask his next question. Afraid of Halt’s reaction to it, and afraid of his possible answer. But he drew up his courage and let it out into the open.

“Do you feel bad?”

“What?”

“Do you feel guilty for killing him?” Will looked at him now, his face and tone more sure than it had been previously. Halt kept the same uncomfortable gaze on his apprentice. 

“No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Why should I?”

“I don’t know,” Will answered lamely, his confidence leaving him again. It was nice while it lasted. “I just feel like killing anyone should have some sort of guilt with it.”

“He was a murderer, Will.” 

“I know that. You keep saying. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was still a living human. Doesn’t taking that away feel wrong?”

“No. It doesn’t. Because he was a living human that took the lives away from other innocents!” His voice began to rise slightly, as did his temper. Will noticed this and decided it would be smarter to choose his next words wisely. Maybe if he could just explain his way of thinking in a way that didn’t sound judgmental or accusatory this would go better.

“I just always thought that killing anyone would be hard. Whether they were good or not. Like, just the idea that you took a life. I’ve heard people say that’s always difficult. I would’ve thought this would have been similar, at least in a way.”

Halt pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stay calm for Will’s sake. He could see the boy was genuinely distressed, and he didn’t want to make it worse by making him feel like he was mad at him. But god, this was getting frustrating. “Maybe for some people it would be,” he said. “Maybe for you. But I’ve been doing this for a hell of a long time. In this line of work, killing is unavoidable, and if you start feeling bad for every life you take, you’ll find it harder the next time you have to do it. You won’t be able to do your job right. I’ll admit, I probably didn’t need to kill him. But I’m also not going to say he didn’t deserve it. He did. And I don’t feel bad for it.”

Will nodded glumly. He could see what Halt was saying. But he didn’t like it. Halt basically mirrored his thoughts with his next words.

“I don’t like doing it. No one really does. Only them.” He gestured to the body on the ground. The original blood around the edges of the room had already begun to dry but was soon painted over by a fresh dose. “That’s why they kill innocent people while we just kill the people who deserve it. It’s our job, Will, Not a hobby.”

“I never said it was a hobby,” Will protested, but realised that’s not how Halt meant it. 

“Do you want to be a ranger?” 

Will was caught off guard by the question. He stuttered a few times before getting his response out. “Yes.”

“Then this is part of it. And as hard as it may be, you’re going to have to get used to it. If you don’t, it’ll make things a lot more difficult. You’ve killed before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but that was in defense. They had weapons. They were attacking. He wasn’t.”

“Technically he had already attacked,” Halt said. “He attacked multiple people and he got what was coming for him.”

“I guess,” Will mumbled. His mind was racing with a million thoughts per second. Halt had some fair points, he figured. It made a lot of sense, and he realised he would have to get used to it if he wanted to continue down this path. He had felt a surprising amount of relief when Halt said he didn’t enjoy it. Without knowing it, he had been afraid that his mentor did take some slice of joy from it. He felt bad for thinking that about Halt. Despite being grim and sometimes having a bit of a temper, he was one of the kindest and most genuine people Will had ever met, and he was immensely grateful he was in his life. 

“We should get back to the others,” Halt said, interrupting Will’s thoughts. “I don’t think they would have gotten out but we shouldn’t risk it.” He kneeled down next to the body and grabbed onto the black shafted arrow, pulling it out of the man, a sick squelching noise as it made its backwards journey out through the flesh and organs. Will blanched slightly as he watched.

“Are you going to reuse it?” he asked.

“No. But I don’t really want to just leave it here. Although, if I clean off the head I could probably use that. It’s still sharp.” He wiped the arrow on the grass, most of the blood clearing off and a detached piece of flesh falling off. Will looked at it with disgust. 

“What are we going to do about him?”

Halt straightened up and looked at the corpse, then back to Will again. His eyes revealed no hint of hidden emotion.

Book 9 :3

Halt: you could need a cloak

Horace: *gasp* I get a Ranger cloak??

Halt: ...yes, you can have my spare

Horace: *puts on cloak*

Horace: uhh...

Will: *snorts*

Horace: not to complain, but this thing is like half my size

Halt: *haltic glare*

Alex adopted a snake

First thing he did was scare Will, but he didn't get scared and instead petted the snake

Halt did get scared

Here's the snake I used as model under cut cuz I don't wanna jumpscare like alex

Day 13: Vow

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lol so this is based on a tumblr post i made, and then took very seriously.

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The deck of the Wolfwill rolled gently beneath the steady waves, the longship cutting through the darkening water as the sun bled copper into the horizon.

They were going home.

And Horace and Cassandra had just gotten engaged.