The Abbey was meant to be a place of calm and quiet, a place of repose where those drawn to the calming and castigating Light could find rest. 

Well at least that’s what it was meant to be, and for the most part it was. Juna’s… odd proclivities, and… Damien aside, the Abbey was a bastion of quiet in the Hamlet. Whose streets and alleys were so often full of those reprobates drunk off the Tavern’s offerings, or else the unfortunates just returned from forays beyond the estate. 

Reynauld would have personally seen all those lost souls find the same kind of comfort that he did within the Abbey’s walls. But he had been living here long enough to understand most to be disinclined to such a thing. 

It meant that the Abbey stayed quiet, apart from the murmur of prayers and the whisper of the confession boxes. 

It meant that the Abbey was… actually quite lonely. 

Reynauld resented that thought. 

Clutching his rosary tighter in his hands, bereft of their leather gloves for once. He used the pain of the iron holy symbol digging into his skin to push away the idea that he missed the rabble of his companions. That he actually found comfort in the oddball comradery he had found among this gaggle of sinners. That he didn’t often miss Paracelsus’ sterile wit, or Audrey’s bawdy remarks, or Dismas’ rough laughter near to his side when he was left alone to his thoughts like this.  

Still it was these thoughts that interrupted his prayers as he knelt in the sept prostrate beneath the image of the Light. He should have been through at least his fifteenth muttered scripture, instead he was thinking about the time that Sarmenti had told such a horrendous joke that it had caused Baldwin to choke on his mead and spit it out into William’s face. The poor Houndmaster left soaked as the clown had cackled up a storm. Dismas had found that one particularly funny, and had needed to clutch on to Reynauld’s arm to stay upright. 

Reynauld felt warm remembering this particular memory… Perhaps he needed to take another confession. With the High Minister, not one of the newer clergy, they were much more lenient in the Holy Lights mercy. The last young pup who had taken Reynauld’s confession had actually praised his comradery. Commended him for his inclination towards consorting with the group of ner-do-wells the lord of the estate had amassed. 

The priest had of course not known exactly how deep such affections ran, but even so…

Reynauld himself had had to remind the man of the numerous sins these mercenaries were guilty of, how most of them scoffed at the word of the light and more than that would never think of attending mass. 

“Perhaps it is good then, that they have you to guide them.” The Priest had said, with a smile. 

Reynauld didn’t know about that. 

“Sir Reynauld-!” A panting voice broke the relative silence, the door swinging open with haste. 

Reynauld was standing in a moment, turning to face one of his own subordinates, another crusader at least two decades his junior who helped in guarding the Hamlet when more accomplished fighters were away. 

Now the poor boy looked harried. 

“What is it?” Reynauld asked, meeting the man halfway down the aisle. 

“It’s the Highwayman sir, and that Bounty Hunter—”

Reynauld was already moving toward the exit, expression stoney, hand on the hilt of his sword. 

“Tell me on the way.”

-

Dismas grit his teeth against the pain as he was sent sprawling-- battered and bleeding through the wooden door of the Tavern.

He would be the first to admit that this hadn’t been the best idea. But also in his defense… Audrey had dared him, and he had been a few flagons of ale down when it had been proposed. He’d be damned if he’d let that chumped up ex-heiress win anything, she’d be wearing that annoying smirk for the rest of the month if he did.

“You’re… You’re gonna have to pay for that door.” He coughed, as he struggled to get himself to his feet.

The Bounty Hunter had only been in town for a week or so, but he kept to himself. When he wasn’t wearing his helmet that left him almost entirely unreadable, he spent the majority of his time scowling at all of them. 

Well… not all of them. 

Audrey had helpfully pointed out to Dismas on day three of their new resident’s stay here that Tardiff (as he was supposedly called) spent a lot of his time glaring at the highwayman in particular. He could guess why. But he had been settled in the thought that there was no one here to honor his bounty. The Old Road out of here was certainly not the most viable of options for dragging Dismas somewhere more ‘respectable’ for payment either.

Stalking out of the tavern toward him, tossing his dirk to one side, Tardiff grunted. “It’ll come out of the money I’ll get for your bounty then, highwayman.” 

“Come off it mate, can’t you take a joke?”

The Bounty Hunter scoffed bitterly.

Perhaps Dismas shouldn’t have antagonized the man.

It hadn’t taken much, all things considered. Dismas had only bought a whiskey for him, had the grizzled bartender deliver it to the dark corner where Tardiff had been sitting. Innocent enough. 

Sure, when the man had then proceeded to stomp over to his and Audrey’s table and demand what “the bastard thought he was playing at” Dismas probably should have said something OTHER than “You’re the one who’s been undressing me with your eyes for half a week, I’m just the bloke with the balls to buy a man a drink first.

But Audrey’s snort laugh had been worth it for this madcap brawl that was ensuing. 

Maybe. 

A flashbang landed close beside Dismas, making him curse. He had barely enough time to squeeze his eyes shut before it went off with a concussive burst. Stumbling back and nearly off balance again he heard townsfolk yelling. A clattering of feet and armor and voices. 

He squinted his eyes open just in time to see Tardiff flying at him. Without his dirk, Dismas had little option but to draw his pistol, fumbling fingers loading powder and grapeshot as he rapidly backed up. 

“I’ve come to collect, Highwayman!”

Shit. 

He didn’t have time-

He couldn’t believe he was going to die because of one of Audrey’s stupid bets. 

His pistol was only half loaded-

Fuck-

A clatter of metal on metal-- a rough ax meeting the steel of a greatsword. Dismas hadn’t realized he squeezed his eyes shut again until he was blinking them open. 

Not dead, thank fuck. 

A towering man in shining platemail stood before him, Reynauld was not completely kitted up, he was missing his helm and his gloves, but his steely form braced for combat was the same as it ever was. Just this time it was directed not towards an unholy abomination but one of their companions.  

“Enough.” Reynauld’s voice was firm, not loud, but the force of it caused a ripple of silence through the watching crowd.

Tardiff growled, still applying weight to his ax crossed with the crusader's blade. 

“You defend this wretch?” He spat.

“While he works these grounds his life is not yours to take.” Reynauld said, evenly “do you think the heir will pay you out his bounty, when they asked him personally to be here?”

The crowd was nearly a clean ring around the three men now. None assembled could see Tardiff’s face, but he seemed to glance around at the onlookers. His voice was a low displeased rumble. 

“Never thought in all my life I’d see a ranked crusader defend a murderer.” 

Dismas winced, it had been a while since he’d been called that. He opened his mouth about to speak, perhaps in his own defense, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Juna had stepped up and stood at his side. Close beside her was Audrey giving Dismas an expression half apologetic and half bemused.

“He’s not the only one.” Juna said.

“Yeah!” Audrey added “he may be an alcoholic arse with a shitty sense of humor, but he’s ours.”

Dismas almost barked a laugh, trust Audrey to defend him in the most asinine way possible. 

Reynauld was still glaring at the Bounty Hunter, saying nothing but taking advantage of the few inches he had on him. Dismas had to imagine Tardiff was at least seriously weighing his options now. 

“As loath as I am to admit it, the highwayman is exceptionally useful, it would be a shame to lose him.” Another voice from the crowd called. Dismas turned to see Paracelcus stepping out of the throng. 

Baldwin too, put a hand on Tardiff’s shoulder, his voice calm as ever. “I think it’s time you stepped back, friend. This fight is not worth it.” 

A long moment hung, in which the Bounty Hunter seemed to stare at the Highwayman. Dismas for his part was mystified, expression almost bemused as he stood amongst his companions. He was half tempted to shrug.

Finally the man stepped back, slipping his ax back into its sheath with an agitated sound. Reynauld kept his sword out.

“Fine…” Tardiff growled “but mark me; we aren’t done Highwayman.”

And with that he stalked away. 

It seemed as if the surrounding crowd (and Dismas himself) finally allowed themself to breathe.

“Well, that could have been worse.”

All assembled turned to see the reclusive heir standing  slightly outside the ring beside the statue of his long departed ancestor. As eyes turned to look at them, they moved forward, parting the crowd in their path. 

“Are you quite alright Dismas?” they asked finally. 

Chuckling, Dismas slipped his pistol away, regarding his new scrapes, and bruises. Wiping away the blood at his nose “Oh yeah, no worse than I’m used to” he said.

“Good, good. I shall… talk to the hunter, perhaps persuade him to be a touch more… reasonable” 

“If you need assistance at all-” Reynauld began but the heir raised a hand, cutting him off. 

“Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary, Reynauld.”

The Crusader seemed to not be pleased with this answer, but he only nodded as he watched the heir drift away in the direction that Tardiff had stomped.

Audrey it seemed was holding court over a small group of people exchanging money. Dismas had to roll his eyes-- 

“Could you not use me nearly getting chopped in half to make yourself some quick coin in the future?” He asked, making the woman guffaw. 

“As if, it’s what you’re good for.” 

The Highwayman sighed heavily, before turning to Reynauld who was still beside him. 

“Thanks for the save, tin man.” He said easily. 

Reynauld grunted, sheathing his sword before commenting “you would do well to not make such enemies, thief.” 

Dismas might have once been offended by that name. Now it just made him smile, his easy crooked smile in the knight’s direction. Reynauld felt warm all over. Ears red and stomach suddenly bubbling as Dismas replied. 

“Nah, that’s what I’ve got you for, don’t I?”

Reynauld regarded him for a moment. Recalling the words of a young priest back at the Abbey. Perhaps… there had been some truth after all. 

“Yes.” Reyanuld said finally. “Yes, I believe you’re right.”