A few days had passed, uneventful. Mariette's swollen eyes returned to their normal size, though her flesh was still tender to the touch, and she would complain of trouble breathing through her snout on occasion. In that time, Armen took great care to help her, despite her rampant protests against him doting over her so fervently. Providing her with wet rags and helping to clean any pus or crusting from her eyelids or lacerations upon her snout. Though he took care to avoid any mention, he found himself shuffling around the subject that had caused such trouble. At night, he would wake to hear her muffled sobs and sniffles while she thought he was asleep. Unable to ignore her aching heart, he would ask her in the morning of her night, which was replied the same for every inquiry: "Fine. I slept well, thank you." Always accompanied with a smile that looked just a mote too forced. Within those days and eves, they received a guest of William, the postmaster. He always came bearing meals and drink, along with light-hearted conversation, to Armen's relief. He could see that William was the type of man that was far too few in this world; a genuinely kind soul that would take time to help another, a stranger such as themselves, regardless of the inconvenience. And William was a great distraction for her.

  One evening, William brought stew, not a stew like the one behind the tavern bar, but a fresh and lovingly made concoction of venison and potatoes, with a thick brown broth that was almost more a gravy than soup. It was a meal that Armen had longed for, one that he couldn't recall having in his life, at least not anytime recently. He could see that within William's company, Mariette had her troubles lifted from her shoulders. She smiled in a manner that made Armen's heart swell with adoration, as if they were all amongst the company of family that were dearly missed.

  Armen, while he did enjoy the jovial conversation, kept into himself. Not keen on risking to pull Mariette from her leisurely tidings and back into now: within his presence. Thus, in his corner he sat, lifting the chin of his helm to expose his mouth enough to slurp his stew from its bowl, away from the other two, whom laughed and poked fun at each other while also enjoying their meals. William was in the middle of telling a story to Mariette when she looks past William and to Armen in the corner. She looked at him almost longingly, wishing he would be more invested in the conversation. A look of pity flickers in her eyes, she knew that he felt alien here, so far from his own kind, lonely amongst the populace of her peoples. "Forgive me, William. Just one moment." she interrupts, "Armen... Would you please come hither? I feel that you should be amongst friends while you eat. Has it not been awhile since you have been in good company?"

  Armen, after having taken another sip and chewing a piece of gristly venison underneath his helm, looks at Mariette and William, both of whom stare upon him invitingly. After he swallows, and growing slightly uncomfortable at the expectant gazing, he rises from his seat and brings his chair over to the duo. Sitting near, but not too near the two; in between William and the table adjacent the bed upon which Mariette sat cross-legged. "Thank you for your invitation." he says indirectly.

  Mariette nods a proud bob of her head and a smile of elation pulls her lips up, showing both rows of her sharp teeth. "Our pleasure! Thou art no stranger, so you needn't act as though you are unwelcome!" William nods approvingly, silently echoing her words.

  Armen presses his back into the chair as he sits more comfortably, placing his half finished stew on the table to his right that sat beside the bed. Mariette took notice of his still half-full bowl next to her own empty one, but she remarked naught of it. Instead she leaned forward while William told tales of how he traveled great distances and met with the desert-folk of the sandy kingdoms down south in Egypt. How he made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and saw the many different cultures that all packed into such a grand city. When he traveled north and met the pagan men of the mountains and of a select few oceanic countries further still. Men that built war sloops adorned with dragons and worshiped strange gods that held dominion over arbitrary things such as stars or animal spirits. Whether they were true or not mattered little to her, for she was so enamored with the thought of more out there, anything from how different the flora was to how strange the people spoke, stole her curiosity.

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  Armen, though less interested in the tall tales than Mariette, still listened intently to William's stories. It was always nice to toy with new ideas and things that were strange, albeit if they were innocuous or mundane. While portions of the tales told were untrue, there was a notable amount that was accurate to his surprise. If nothing else, Armen knew that William were indeed a well educated or experienced fellow. At least, from the human perspective. Armen couldn't vouch for the southern kingdoms, but the northern tribal men? Unusually accurate for a manolon to describe, especially from a postmaster of a lonely town this far south in the Sanctacentri.

  As William finishes his copious tellings, and the evening leeches into the late hours of the night, he sighs and pats his own knee before he stands from his chair. "I suppose I should run back to my own, I don't wish to keep the two of thee awake so late. Tomorrow I will make a roast, the shepherd was selling a lovely cut of lamb yesterday and I want to give thee a nice treat!"

  Mariette giggles and pads her fingertips to her lips coyly, "Oh, Master William, you spoil us terribly, I fear we might grow accustomed to being treated like such royalty!" she looks at Armen, a teasing flicker in her eyes. As William begins to collect his tableware, Armen stands and joins him. Grabbing the bowls and stacking them neatly, handing them to William. Armen, with a gentle hand on the short fox's shoulder walks with him out of the room. "Please, allow me to take you across the street."

  "Oh! Why that is very kind of you! Thank you, Armen." The old manolon's voice was clearly getting more groggy with sleep, only emphasized as he yawns and nearly drops his bowls as he attempts a stretch. "Oh, I do get frightened in the dead of night if I'm not in my bed. I would love to have an escort."

  Armen gives a single dip of his head in assurance to William, "It is the least I might do for such a gentle man."

  They descend the stairs and, with William hobbling on his portly legs, leave the tavern. As they slowly cross the street, William breaks the silence of the night with a quiet voice, "How is she holding up? I've heard of the troubles that had befallen either of you... I worry she might be holding strong for our sake. I can't imagine what the poor girl is thinking..."

  Armen replies in an equally hushed tone, "I fear thou art correct. After the incident were cleared, she lashed upon me once, and not more. Since she has been resting, not again has she brought it up. I never find her weeping or morose. She hasn't said anything about my actions, which, if I am honest to you, worries me more than her beratement."

  "Thine actions? What would she be upset with you for?"

  "How I handled the animals that sought her defilement. Particularly of one young manolon amongst them."

  William halts while they stand in the middle of the street, his eyes wide beneath his thick glasses as he looks up at Armen standing next to him. "Thou mean... It's true? The men being flayed and dragged through the streets? I heard a young boy was caught by a horse and killed, but I would hardly blame you for that unfortunate accident."

  Armen looks down upon William, then kneels to meet him at his eyes. "I'm afraid that you hath been given a diluted account of it. There was a younger manolon, indeed, but I had slain him. Impaling him in gruesome fashion. As so: my judgment."

  William trembles lightly, he sniffles and wipes his nose. A tremor in his voice, “And, you bore judgment deservedly?” he inquires deeper, hoping that the answer was at least some justification for such indiscriminate punishment. Armen looks to the ground at William's feet, only nodding in response. The old postmaster continues, mostly voicing his thoughts aloud, "Only a boy was he? A shame... It tears at me that the boy had fallen onto such a path... More often than not, I wish the world were different..."

  "As do I..." Armen replies, disheartened as he tells William of the boy that would never again see his mother, his brother, father. And of those that will never see him again. Despite knowing his execution was warranted, he couldn't feel anything other than guilt for it.

  When they stand before the door to William's post, Armen gives him a soft pat on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I have not been in a position to come and receive my letter. Might I get it tomorrow from you?"

  William opens the creaky door, stepping into the darkened room beyond, replying, "Of course... Yes I shall be here all day. If you would like, I could instead bring it to you when I come with dinner. If that is acceptable."

  Armen thinks a moment, thumbing the chin of his helm thoughtfully, "I suppose one more day wouldn't hurt. It has been this long already. My thanks... And, again: I know Mariette finds great comfort in your presence, I hope you understands my utmost gratitude. I cannot begin to speak words that would do justice to my thanks..."

  William nods and closes the door as Armen leaves and returns to the tavern.