Save the ambient sounds of the caravan, Ren could've sworn the air grew still. "So… Why run? Why not just tell my father–"
Leonidas shook his head, "I had, multiple times. But he insisted I had a heart that could weather it. Maybe he was right. But I didn't want that for myself. So I ran. Couldn't stay anywhere for long, though. Arbiters are in every part of Lilac Sky. So I fled south, past the border."
"...To the Sovereign Lands." Ren finished, frowning, "But they're hostile to Marked."
Leonidas smirked. "That's why I fled there. Can't be found in a place where people assume you're dead."
After a moment, Ren shifted, uncomfortable. "You travel with them. The gold hair. That's common in the Sovereign Lands." He glanced at Leonidas, "You had help, didn't you?"
Silence dragged between them, and Leonidas' smirk turned into a smile. "I married there."
Ren coughed, eyes going wide. "Wh-What?!"
Leonidas sighed, then shook his head, "That's of no matter. What we were talking about, young Elren, is the fact that I would not be your father's puppet for execution."
Bristling, Ren's eyes narrowed. "My father would never see people that way. Puppets? You've never met him."
Leonidas chuckled once again, "No, no, your father doesn't see people that way. He is the best Arbiter in generations. Built for the Houses by the Houses. Thank Mercy that he's a good man, or the Houses would've weaponized him long ago."
"Weaponized him? My father wouldn't hurt anybody."
"That's the point, boy."
Recoiling at the title, Ren frowned. "Boy? I'm not just some–"
"You are." Leonidas responded, cutting Ren off once again. "As of yesterday, you're a fugitive. Which means you're no longer recognized by the state as heir of House Winter."
Scoffing, Ren leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. There was no proper response to that. Of course there wasn't. Because Leonidas was right. "The girl who found me outside the caravan yesterday. Who was she?"
Leonidas glanced at Ren from the corner of his eye. "She brought you the mask in the cell, Elren. Do you not remember?"
"...Evelyn." He muttered, "Her name is Evelyn."
"Good man." Leonidas responded, his voice growing fond. "She the girl you were talking about when you said I travel with Sovereigns?"
Letting the moment pass slowly, Ren nodded. "Yes." After another beat, he sighed. "She's… Your daughter?"
Silence fell between the two of them, and Ren tensed. Was he crossing a line? He was pushing boundaries. Etiquette had never been Ren's strongest quality, and he was a little nervous he may have crossed some line.
"She is." Leonidas sighed, his lips curled, "And Silas is my son."
Ren nodded slowly, turning back to the road ahead. "...Was it you who intervened? At the blockade?"
"I was."
Ren hung his head, replaying everything that had happened. "The dagger in my sister's back. The weapon. Obsidian. Solid material. Was it…"
Leonidas nodded again, eyes glazing over. "Yes, I believe it was a Reaper's Tool."
"What Mark Tier? Erin was of the First Mark, talented enough with the scales to fool many." Ren turned, "You told me you were an arbiter once. Tell me. What kind of Reaper overpowers someone as talented as her?"
"Not much. A skilled man of the Second or Third Branches could've easily overpowered her." He hummed, "Not one of ours. We don't kill."
Shoulders tensing, Ren sighed. "Even if she was skilled?"
"Skill doesn't matter against an Assassin." Leonidas responded, "And we don't have those. Silas and I both carry the Harvest as our Second Branch."
Slowly, Ren nodded. It had been some time since he'd been through Mark fundamentals. But he could remember most of it. Each Pillar of Creation had three Manifest Marks tied to them. From there, the Second Mark began to branch and grow, with three at the second tier, or Branch, and then three unique Third Branches from the second. The Mark of the Reaper was the second Manifest Mark of the Pillar of Death, and one of the most common of all. The Harvest and Assassin Marks were two of the three possible Second Marks from the Pillar of Death.
Though his memories of the night before were hazy at best, Ren could remember the flicker of Erin's phantom beside him. Delirium, most likely, but nonetheless disturbing. Biting his lower lip, he turned to Leonidas. "Why take me in?"
After a moment, Leonidas sighed. "Because your father allowed me to walk away from the arbiters when we were young. Because he was my friend. Because I won't let his only remaining child die."
Ren nodded, then tried to stand, his legs still shaking. "Then I believe this conversation is over."
Leonidas finally turned to him, studying Ren, really studying him. "Roses and Ink, you have your father's face." He shook his head, chortling to himself. "Leaving the conversation so abruptly. Definitely your father's son."
Finally, Ren looked over the edge of the driver's seat, and hopped off. He stumbled in his landing, legs shaking, mind racing. He was thirsty, still, and he needed to find another coat. Though unwilling to admit it to himself, Leonidas' words had disturbed Ren. The man was blunt, far more willing to match or test Ren than he'd ever experienced before. In the academy, other students and teachers had bent over backwards to accommodate his or Erin's needs. Here… Here he was just a… Just a…
"Stagehand!"
Glancing in the direction of the first person amongst the group of eager onlookers to even attempt to address him, Ren caught a glimpse of silver eyes and pale skin. Grimacing, Ren turned back to the cart's side, hoping to find a water barrel or something to deal with his aching throat. He didn't want to deal with Silas any more than he had to. In fact, if he could've just been left alone to struggle in perfect solitude as he sorted out his thoughts, that would've been preferable.
Such luck wasn't his.
Silas clapped Ren's shoulder, that ever-present sardonic grin on his face. "My new favorite underling." He pressed a filled waterskin to Ren's chest, leaning in closer to whisper, "Better get your mask back on. Don't want to scare everyone else."
After hesitating briefly, allowing the cart and walkers to pass by them, Ren took the waterskin. "They don't know?"
"No," Silas hissed, "And mother and father would prefer they didn't for now. We're endangering the whole caravan for you, the least you can do for us is keep it covered."
Ren met Silas' gaze, then scoffed, breaking away, sipping from the waterskin, then turning back to the Leonidas' cart. "Fine. I'll get it."
So, Ren walked back up, feeling the eyes trailing him as he moved. That was nothing new, the eyes. Curiosity, interest, even fear. He'd felt it all growing up. But he'd never felt the pressure of amusement. Expectation, perhaps, but never anything as docile as amusement. Still, he jumped into the back of the wagon, found his mask, and paused.
'Do I really want to put it back on? It was a necessity last night. I don't have to do anything they want me to.' He sighed, then brought it to his face, tying it behind his head as he had the night before, the all-too familiar sensation of his vision being distorted matched with the itch of its padding around his eyes. '...Am I really doing this?'
And as he jumped back out the back of the cart once again, this time, there was a small group waiting for him.