"Our mother died in childbirth. Nothing curious about that," Tyronius responds flatly.

Aerendir grunts approvingly as Marabir seats himself again

"Aerendir," Marabir turns his attention to the elf. "When we departed on this quest I asked you to trust me. I need you to do so still. I could be wrong-"

"You are wrong," asserts Tyronius

"-but I need to see this through," finishes Marabir, ignoring his brother. "If there is even a chance there is truth to this, I must know."

"I certainly trust you are going to sneak off alone if I don't go with you and get yourself killed, since you can't be trusted even to stay behind a barricaded door when explicitly told you need to," Aerendir says pointedly, glaring at Marabir's side. "Obviously if you absolutely must go then I am going to go with you, even if it is a bad idea and a completely unnecessary quest. My brother's orders are to keep you safe and do what you tell me to, not to make sure you use your common sense. That doesn't mean I like the fact that you are trusting random letters and suspecting my brother when my brother and myself have been serving Thane for years."

Tyronius sighs.

"Let us focus on escaping first, before we jump to decisions about where we will go once we are free. And it is the evening of the 5th of Midfall," he adds reluctantly after a pause.

If Aerendir is attempting to send Marabir on a guilt trip, he appears to be somewhat successful, as the prince frowns uncomfortably.

"I know Morfion has always been loyal to the Carendils, and I do trust him," he says, delicately. "I just... I just need to discover the truth."

Under the circumstances, a guilt trip is something Aerendir seems to feel Marabir thoroughly deserves. Closing his eyes as he sullenly leans back against the wall beside Marabir.

"Well, either way that is hardly a pressing decision at present."

A couple of hours pass. The torches burn lower until they are little more than embers, as the evening turns into night outside. Marabir lies down once more, and is in the midst of restless sleep when the there is a dull thud against the door outside, followed by a rattling of the lock. Tyronius halts in his pacing, glancing at Aerendir as he moves toward the door.

The door opens a moment later, and to their surprise the grizzled form of Calvorn enters, stepping lightly over the body of their door guard who lies across the hearth outside.

"Your highness," Calvorn bows to Tyronius. "It is good to see you alive."

"Calvorn?" Tyronius responds incredulously as he moves swiftly toward the doorway. "How did you...?"

"Escape? Locate you? Break into the city?" Calvorn summarises with a rare smile. "I confess I had help."

With this he gestures to the cloaked form of Falnis who crouches in the shadows behind him.

"Alas, how the mighty have fallen," Falnis says, looking amused, but making sure Calvorn stays firmly between himself and both princes and Aerendir.

"...You are working with him?" Aerendir sneers incredulously. "He's a varim, Calvorn. He is probably the one who set all this up in the first place."

"Yes, I knew you would be pleased," Calvorn replies dryly. "But he has been true to his word thus far, and aside from costing a considerable amount of coin, has proved very fortunate to have around."

"Someone informed our captors of our presence in these parts," Tyronius replies evenly, not looking at all impressed by the situation. "And where is Caled?"

"Indeed. I see your point. Certainly, they needed a varim to do that. They couldn't possibly have worked it out just because a squad of 20-plus knights was riding north calling their leader 'Your Highness,'" Falnis arches an eyebrow. "As for our esteemed Sir Caled, he is on his way to save you. I imagine he will find the right direction to do that eventually."

Tyronius scowls at Dalmar.

"Yes, Falnis and I took a shortcut," Calvorn quickly breezes over this part. "Anyway, we should continue this conversation once we are safely out of here. Is he well enough to move?" he adds with a glance at Marabir's sleeping form.

The judgmental glare Aerendir sends Calvorn says exactly what the high elf thinks of 'shortcuts' taken with varim.

"Technically. He can walk, but not easily, and I am concerned his side may re-open if he does things like run or ride. If we leave, we will also void our promise-- such as it was-- to not be harmed for one week, so if we try to escape, we cannot afford to fail in doing so. Is the path out clear?"

"Clearish," Calvorn asserts, eying Marabir grimly. "There is an escape route which we can take, but it will involve climbing down a section of the wall. I suppose it is too much to hope that you know some form of healing magic?" the ranger directs at Falnis.

"He isn't going anywhere near my brother," Tyronius asserts firmly.

"I mean, naturally, as a simple hunter, one comes prepared in case of hunting accidents--" Falnis fishes around inside a concealed pocket for a tiny bottle of shimmering blue liquid. "We varim, after all, do not enjoy oozing in bed for weeks with injuries when magic exists, should some Thanian boar happen to wound us. However," Falnis rolls the small vial gently back and forth between two fingers, temptingly, "even for myself, Gothin is not easy to obtain. In short, it is expensive. I assume price will be no issue, however, for one so plentifully supplied with pouches of gems in your boots as yourself? I do accept IOUs if you have run out..."

The varim's gaze flicks over to Tyronius.

"Assuming, of course, that you are willing to let your brother drink. I can assure you, however, that Gothin is a simple healing potion, brewed by qualified professionals, and is perfectly safe."

Tyronius frowns at the liquid mistrustfully, clearly feeling that potion brewers and professionals are mutually exclusive terms.