A loud knock at the door made Emily nearly jump from her bed. The night before, Samson had said something about today, but now she couldn't seem to recall what that was in the first place. She wasn't ready to leave though.

She slid out of bed, inhaling sharply when her bare feet hit the wood floor. She brushed her hair as fast as she could, her stitches becoming more annoying than before. In fact, now she remembered. Today was the day she would be able to get her stitches out.

She scrambled toward the door and finally swung it open, revealing Samson on the other side of it. It was clear he wasn't impressed by the lack of punctuality.

"Good morning, Samson!" Emily chirped, hoping to swerve the attention away from her being obviously late. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," he replied.

Emily waited for more of an explanation, but she quickly remembered this was Samson she was talking to.

"What are we starting with today?"

Samson cleared his throat. "Today, we start with going to the infirmary. I take it you know what that means?"

"I can finally kiss my stitches goodbye?"

"Precisely. But since you woke up late, there won't be any breakfast for either of us this morning. That time has already passed," Samson said.

Emily's smile faltered. "That's okay, wasn't really a breakfast person anyway."

"I'm sorry. It's not me. They only allow breakfast for an hour."

Emily couldn't help but notice Samson's expression had softened ever so slightly.

They proceeded down the stairs and toward the infirmary. Emily could feel her stomach tossing and turning as they did so. Not fond of the infirmary, and frankly, her stomach was hurting from the lack of, well, anything that morning.

They stopped outside of the two standing wooden doors which led into the infirmary. Emily had only been back once before, and it was just to check on how her shoulder was doing. She had to keep up with cleaning them and making sure they wouldn't become infected. It hadn't allowed her to do much other than follow Samson around and listen to things about the Red Cloaks.

  "This is as far as I will go," Samson said as he opened the door for Emily.

He recognized the expression on Emily's face as she hesitated before stepping inside. He had seen it on others.

"It's not going to hurt, is it?"

"Feel strange? Yes. Hurt? Most likely not. Your stitches are ready to come out," Samson answered.

  "Would you mind if you joined me? I just hate the infirmary," Emily requested, forgetting once again as to who she was talking to.

"We both know I'm not doing that Emily. You're tough enough to be by yourself, are you not? I suggest you go now before it becomes any later in the day."

Emily sighed, stepping inside. "Fine. I didn't expect much from you anyway."

As the doors closed on Samson, he felt a twinge of something in his chest. He didn't like how she said that. It wasn't aggressive. It was more or less, in a disappointed tone, a sad tone. He didn't like that.

He wasn't used to her sounding like that. Her responses were typically full of confidence and occasional teasing, nothing like what he heard now. What especially bothered him was the fact that they had made a deal to not be friends, to simply get through this apprenticeship ordeal and then she would be on her way.

  Samson raised his eyebrows at Emily as she left the infirmary with a toothy grin plastered on her face.

"Careful now," he began. "Someone might think you're not as scary as you seemed in the Placement."

Emily paused mid-stride. "People are scared of me? Did I really look that intimidating during the Placement?"

"I mean, not to me," Samson said. "But someone who continues to fight despite having a knife in their shoulder? They've probably earned everyone's respect."

He opened the door to the courtyard and let Emily through.

"That man, Wells, or whatever his name is...I certainly haven't earned his respect."

"You should know why that is," Samson replied. "You beat his daughter."

"Oh...now I remember," Emily said, recalling when Finley had told her days prior. "So, why exactly did you bring me out here?"

"To do the one thing you've been wanting to do since the Placement."

Emily blanked. "Find some decent food?"

Samson wasn't amused.

"Oh, sword-fighting," Emily finally remembered.

"Correct," Samson said, removing his cloak to reveal two sheaths and two swords. He unbuckled it and handed one to Emily, who immediately put it around her waist.

"Before we even begin, I need you to listen to me closely," Samson said.

Emily nodded.

"This is the start of your training, which means you need to be careful. Don't overdo it," he warned. 

"Me? Overdo it? Who do you think I am?" Emily asked, then remembered the whole reason as to why she was here. "Never mind, that's fair."

"Let's start. I'm assuming you're aware of the rules of chivalry, all of that, right?" he asked.

Emily nodded again.

"Throw it away. Erase it from your memory," he said.

"Wait-But-Wait, why?" Emily sputtered.

Samson kept a hand steadily placed on the hilt. "The world doesn't abide by the rules of chivalry. Surely the Placement would be enough proof of that. You need to learn to fight without thinking about it."

"You're saying I overthink fighting?" Emily questioned.

"I watched the Placement. I sat right next to Celosia. You can tell when people are overthinking things," Samson replied.

"Oh."

"Anyway, let's start," Samson said.

And so, they did. In fact, Emily was just starting to gain some respect for Samson, and then her worst fear came true.

Samson told her there was another meeting...

  The dining hall was filled to the brim with Red Cloaks. Every single Red Cloak sat at the table. Some were even spilling out of the dining hall doors! It was a shameful day for the Red Cloaks though, as they had lost their most important prisoner six days earlier. Not only that, but a particular Red Cloaks had caused part of this uproar and even escaped with the prisoner. So here they were, waiting for Celosia to appear. She always wanted to make an entrance.

Emily anxiously tapped her foot next to Samson, who sat as still as a statue. Emily couldn't help but question how calm he seemed to be. Sure, she happened to be a fairly level-headed person herself, but he seemed to not move an inch. Emily and Samson were in pretty sour moods. They were beginning to get along and begin their training, but the meeting completely came out of the blue. Now their previously good moods had flown out of the door.

Finley's group sat at a table near Emily and Samson, but Emily hadn't noticed. She wanted to know why they were all called to a meeting in the first place. Samson happened to mention there had been a betrayal amongst them, but this occurred on the day of the Placement. That had been six days ago, on a Tuesday. Now it was Monday and Emily was utterly confused. The last time she even spoke to Celosia was in the infirmary.

"Do you know why we're here?" Emily asked Samson.

"No," Samson answered curtly.

Emily sighed loudly and leaned against the table.

"Samson?" she started.

He finally glanced in her direction. "What?"

"I'm sorry about today," she said.

Samson raised his eyebrows. "You're sorry?"

"Yes, I am. Please don't invalidate my apology with sarcasm," Emily shot back.

A few Red Cloaks shifted away after hearing Emily's outburst. Samson also shifted away.

Emily quirked an eyebrow. "Are you going to say anything? Anything at all?"

"Fine, I accept your apology," Samson said.

"Thank you," Emily replied. "That's all I wanted."

"Honestly, why are you so difficult?"

"Me? Oh, that's rich! And to think I thought today was going well, but no. Apparently, we're back to square one," Emily grumped.

"What do you mean you thought today went well?" Samson asked.

"I mean, I thought we were starting to get along," she told him.

"I thought we had made this whole deal about not getting along. I thought you said once this apprenticeship was over, we wouldn't talk anymore. Am I mistaken?" 

"No."

"Then why are you upset? Look, I know I can sound rude when asking you these questions, but you're so hard to understand. You claim you don't like me, but then you apologize and want to get along," Samson said.

Emily didn't answer him, mainly because he was right.

"Samson, I need a friend," Emily piped up. "I'm so lonely here. Mrs. Finley left. I'm just, lonely."

"Welcome to being a Red Cloak," Samson said.

Emily went silent again, and she continued staring at her plate, hoping some sort of miracle would be presented to her. But there was nothing.

"Are you suuuure there's going to be a meeting?" Emily asked, noticing people starting to get up and leave.

Samson shrugged.

"So, there isn't going to be a meeting," Emily said. "Wait, then why are we here?"

"Because I'm hungry."

Leaving Emily in shock, Samson got up and went to get more food. The worst part was, she couldn't even be that mad. It was over food after all, gross food.

"So, when you told me there was a meeting, you told me that just so you could get food?" Emily asked once Samson sat back down at the table.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Respect," Emily said. "Anyway, I prefer that over there being an actual meeting."

"I think everyone else would agree with that statement too."

Emily placed her elbows on the table. "I have a little hunch. Would you like to hear it?"

"Not particularly."

"My hunch; I don't think you hate me."

Samson continued eating. "And what evidence leads you to believe that?"

"Like I said. It's a small hunch. When I collect more evidence, I will get back to you. But the evidence now? For one, we literally sit together at every meal."

"That's because you're my apprentice."

"Mmmm, if I remember correctly, there's no rule stating we have to sit together. If you really don't like me, then you could just move," Emily replied, taking a sip of water.

"That's only one piece of evidence."

"Alright, well, I don't dislike you though," Emily said. "See? Evidence straight from my own mouth."

"You changed the subject to yourself because you didn't have enough evidence to support your claim."

"That's-That's...completely besides the point!"

"Is it?"

Emily sighed. "I suppose not." She slammed a hand on the table. "But I'm going to prove you don't dislike me! Believe that."

"If you really wish to take it upon yourself to do so, then by all means."

"I do wish, I really do. It will be a difficult task, but I think I can manage."

"How about managing to be careful with your scar? If you're not careful—"

"I know, I know, I'm back to square one," Emily groaned. "Wait, I found the second piece of evidence!"

"And that would be?"

"You care about my shoulder injury, and if you really disliked me, you wouldn't keep warning me about it."

Samson placed his spoon down. "Or, I'm continuously warning you because if you do happen to injure your shoulder again, then you won't become Celosia's right-hand man any faster."

Emily shook her head. "Still counting it as a piece of evidence, because it is. You can't get yourself out of this one."

"Maybe I will take up that offer of not sitting with you," Samson murmured, picking up his tray. "I'll clean up your tray if you want."

"Yes please," Emily said, then gasped. "AHA! Piece of evidence number three!"

"It's called being congenial."

"Ugh."

Not too far from the fortress, Finley attempted to keep a clear head while Wells went on a mini monologue about how this search for Felix was a complete waste of time. Sage seemed to be the only one paying attention to it. Violet subtly turned her back to the commotion, and Finley busied herself with setting up camp near the Town of Riverbridge.

A chill ran down her spine as a snowflake landed on her forehead. Snow? Snow now? This year, the snow must have decided to come early, much to Finley's dismay. She stared past Wells and into the distance, almost debating whether or not she could make a run for it; whether or not she could run back home to her family in Lakebridge. She glanced back at Wells though and realized she couldn't leave. If they ever did find Felix, Finley would need to be the barrier between Felix and Wells. Without her, Felix would most likely never make it back to the fortress. A shadow fell over Finley as she continued collecting firewood.

"You're awfully slow with setting up camp," Wells spat.

Finley stood up, only around an inch shorter than Wells.

"If it bothers you that much, then I suggest you set up camp instead," she answered coolly, shoving the stack of firewood into Wells' arms.

Wells' eyes twitched as Finley went off to put up the tents instead. He picked at the bandage wrapped around his hand, suddenly filling with rage when he remembered who gave him the wound on his hand in the first place. He threw down the firewood and went in search of more.

Violet sat on the riverbank, minding her business like she normally did. The girl was quiet, sneaky if you will. Most of the Red Cloaks were abrupt, outright. Violet had never been this way. She rarely spoke, and when she did, they were short sentences. She relied on others speaking for her, and it would probably always be this way.

She and Sage clashed to no end. Violet considered Sage to be, to put it bluntly, an idiot. Now while she was a girl of few words, she had an array of expressions to no end. Sage sat down next to her, but as usual, she didn't say anything.

"I'm honestly getting tired of you not talking," he began.

Violet rolled her eyes, picking at some dead grass.

"You never speak. I think I've only heard you speak once, or twice. What's up with that?"

Violet remained turned away from him.

"Is there a problem?" she mumbled.

Sage began to become annoyed, violently ripping a spot of dying grass out of the ground.

"You. Need. To. Speak. Up," Sage replied.

"I said, is there a problem?" Violet asked, slightly louder.

"Yes, there is a problem. You don't talk enough. You're too quiet. You get pushed around like a little coward. In fact, sometimes I wonder why you're even in our group to begin with. Weak minded little—"

Violet's fingers shifted ever so slightly, about to reach for something.

"Pardon me Sage," Finley interjected, walking toward them from the tents. "But I highly doubt the amount of words Violet chooses to speak is your choice or business. There is nothing wrong with being quiet."

Sage scoffed. "Lay off. I don't have to listen to you."

Violet gasped, even though she shouldn't have been too shocked. Finley, regardless of the situation, wore a blank expression on her face about the ordeal. She pulled Sage to his feet.

"Go help Wells look for firewood," she said, directing him in the direction of the camp.

She squatted next to Violet; whose big eyes grew even wider. She shook her head.

"I'm quite the joke, aren't I?" she whispered, smiling sadly at Finley.

"Why would you ever say that?"

Violet pulled her knees to her chest. "Because I am. Sage is right. I need to speak up."

Finley shook her head in return. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with not talking all the time." She pointed at Wells. "A majority of the things that come out of his mouth aren't even intelligent. The man just likes to hear himself speak."

Violet stifled a laugh.

"Violet, look at me now, and listen carefully to what I'm about to say," Finley said. She waited for Violet to look at her again. "Talking does not equal intelligence. You're a beautiful, kind, intelligent girl, who doesn't need to prove any of that with a bunch of talking. Understand?"

A small smile appeared on Violet's face as she nodded, still holding the dead grass gently in her hand.

"I understand."

"Good. Now come along and help me with the last tent," Finley said, helping Violet to her feet.

They made their way to the campsite, and Violet began to feel much better than she had. Sage and Wells collected the last of firewood.

"Look at this," Wells scoffed, holding up his bandaged hand. "Can you believe he would do this? I'm surprised this wasn't taken up at the meeting. What a joke."

Violet winced at those words.

"Where do you think he's gotten to anyway? Can't be too far," Sage said. He took out the matchbox.

"Not far at all."

Finley snatched the matchbox from Sage and began attempting to light the fire.

"See, both of you underestimate Autumn. Who's to say they're even together? Surely, they know we'd come looking for them. And if Felix likes this girl, then he wouldn't dare put her in harm's way," she explained, a small ember illuminating the pile of wood.

The other three in the group remained quiet, taken aback by Finley's observation.

"It's all a guessing game," Violet muttered.

"Exactly," Finley said.

Sage groaned. "What are we supposed to do now then? Keep guessing our way through everything until we find them? Doesn't exactly sound productive to me."

"We can't go anywhere. It's getting late and it will get colder than it already is," Finley said. "We'll have to stay here for the night, and we can get up tomorrow to search again. We just need to calm down, right?"

Wells and Sage gave her an expression which could only be matched with anger, or something of the sort. Nevertheless, Finley began to cook the dinner for all of them. It wasn't exactly a large portion, but it was all they were given. Finley gave most of the food to the other three in the group and took the least amount for herself.

As they continued to eat the food around the fire, and the snow swirled around them, Finley could only hope they wouldn't end up ever finding Felix.

Hopefully never.

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Note: So, that was Chapter Ten. Thank you for reading the story so far! Thank you!