They said their goodbyes with the kind of awkward affection that comes after a near-massacre.
The inn owners and the doctor were both simultaneously relieved and oddly sentimental — relieved that the group wasn't going to explode their tavern into a crater today, and sentimental because somehow the kids had left a weird, indelible mark on the place (mostly ruined floorboards and a suspiciously popular "tonight's special").
Ember and Sylas packed, Sebastian adjusted Belos's blanket, the driver—who finally introduced himself as Japheth—rolled a spare tarp into the trunk again even though they'd all watched Nyxar unmake and remake a tent like it was origami.
The road was a patient monster. They drove two days straight: dust in their hair, little villages passing like postcards, Nyxar and Vespera quiet in the back as usual (sneaky silence = plotting or peace — take your pick), Ember flinging questions at passing scenery, Sylas doing inventory math in his head because of course he was, and Belos practicing origami with the mini steel bears for reasons no one could explain but everyone accepted.
On the night of the second day, they stopped. Camp was set. Tents went up like mushrooms. The driver and Sebastian busied themselves arranging sleeping bags and the essentials of civilized survival: ground tarps, a small brazier, and a strategically very high stack of food that everyone pretended was not for Nyxar and Vespera's midnight snack rituals.
They assigned duties with the kind of nonchalance that can only happen after you've watched people almost murder each other for science.
Nyxar & Vespera: Cooking duty. ("Make another masterclass meal," Ember called, half proud, half worried.)
Ember & Sylas: Supplies and babysitting duty. Which, translated: ensure supplies aren't stolen, restocked, counted, and that Belos + his two mini steel bears do not revert to their criminal ways (a.k.a. "not stealing the group's rations again").
Sebastian & Japheth (the driver): Tents, sleeping arrangements, and making sure everyone had a bed/bag in the correct relationship configuration (driver: quiet room; Sebastian & Belos; Vespera & Sylas; Nyxar & Ember).
Sebastian leaned on a rolled-up canvas and, because people talk around campfires, started a conversation with Japheth that was more human than the rest of the tent construction put together.
Sebastian: "I never asked for your name, sir."
Japheth: "It's Japheth. And, please, drop the 'sir.'"
Sebastian: "Japheth — an uncommon name."
Japheth: "I've heard it before, but yes — uncommon."
Camping silence held for a few comfortable moments before curiosity reasserted itself.
Sebastian: "May I ask who gave you that name?"
Japheth: "My mother. She liked the story of a dreamer—some overachiever type who had big dreams."
Sebastian: "Do you have family, Japheth?"
Japheth: "I do. A wife and two little girls."
Sebastian: "Then why a carriage driver, with a family waiting?"
Japheth: "I dreamed of seeing the world. No special power, no combat training — I became a carriage driver so I could travel and bring back souvenirs and stories. My wife agreed. She handles the children. In return, I bring back tales and trinkets."
Sebastian: "With this group… you certainly will have stories."
A small laugh. Japheth's face softened. He looked like a man who believed there was beauty in small, ordinary adventures — and then he'd signed up for the apocalypse's tour package.
Sebastian glanced at Japheth, then at the road that had thrown them together.
Japheth: "What's your story? How did you become a butler?"
Sebastian: "I was an orphan. The Golds family took me in and I was assigned to care for their little boy."
Japheth: "Belos?"
Sebastian: "Yes."
Japheth: "Why separate from the caravan?"
Sebastian explained carefully: the trade deal, the dangerous route, and how the family arranged a longer, supposedly safer path. Which failed. They were ambushed; someone tried to kill their master; Belos escaped; he and Sebastian were rescued by Nyxar and Ember.
Japheth: "Kind of them to help without asking for pay."
Sebastian: "They were curious and kind. Ember is… kind. Nyxar — dangerous, yes, but curious. They offered help because they chose to."
The night creased and folded. They finished tents. Ember and Sylas checked the supply list in the soft lamplight: rations, bandages, oil, rope, torches, spare iron, spice sachets (crucially, enough salt), and a secret stowed pouch of Ember's dried peppers (Ember disagreed strongly with the notion of "sharing" those).
Their bonus duty — babysitting Belos and keeping tiny theft at bay — required vigilance. Belos and his mini steel bears were currently at the cooking area, eyes wide as the kitchen instruments came out. Nyxar and Vespera, to everyone's low-level horror and delight, were already moving with the horrifically efficient grace of two people who had no business being allowed near knives… and yet somehow produced things that smelt like an actual chef had been hired.
Ember kept a watchful eye. Sylas checked all the food sacks and sealed any loose ones. When Belos's mini bears made tiny, adorable attempts to "liberate" salt or bread (they were stealthy, clanking and stealthy like armored raccoons), Ember swooped with a stern look that would have melted a boulder and confiscated the tiny thieves' loot. Belos sulked but complied, because Ember can summon guilt with a look.
Dinner smelled like victory. Nyxar and Vespera had turned the camp into a tiny banquet hall of smoke and roast. Ember watched, oddly proud and mildly mortified that two murder-adjacent teens could bake bread that made Sylas speak in bless-ed syllables.
Late into the evening, the conversation around food drifted — as campfire chatter does — to matters less culinary and more human.
Japheth sat by the brazier with Sebastian, steam curling off a cup. He admitted he'd always wanted to collect stories and bring them home to his girls. Sebastian listened, then told of his life serving the Golds: loneliness turned into purpose, guarding a childhood, and then the chaos of losing that safety to the world's teeth. There was quiet understanding between them: both men carrying duties they'd accepted because someone depended on them.
At one point, they discussed the odd kindness of the pair who'd saved Belos. Japheth, practical and observant, admitted he'd been suspicious — who helps with no pay and no obvious motive? But Sebastian, with the slow, tired certainty of someone who's seen a few bad bargains, shook his head.
Sebastian: "Ember is honestly kind. Nyxar is dangerous, yes, but his curiosity is the same as Belos's — it looks like protection, in a way."
Japheth: "You think they mean no harm?"
Sebastian: "I do."
Outside, under a dome of stars, the cooks plated the last of the roasted thyme chicken and herb-basted potatoes — plates so good that two nearby traveling merchants would later murmur they'd seen angels. The group gathered, tired and oddly content. Even the owner of the inn they'd left the previous day would later tell a friend that the smell "haunted" him in a comforting way.
They ate. Belos's face was a small sun of delight as he fed his mini bears, who now behaved like tiny, very judgmental pets. Ember ate with one eye on the cooking fire and one eye on the perimeter. Sylas counted leftovers with the focus of a man balancing fate on a wooden spoon. Nyxar and Vespera ate noiselessly, occasionally discussing a spice or adjusting a pan. The driver, Japheth, listened, laughed at a quiet joke Nyxar made that turned out not to be a joke, and felt his heart warm with the story he'd return home with.
Later, as the fire died and the night wrapped its soft dark across the camp, Nyxar and Vespera retreated to their tent with the silent kind of companionship they had — side by side, like two halves of the same unnerving coin. Sebastian checked on Belos, tucking him in with a professional tenderness, then checked his own gear. Japheth sat alone a long time, staring at the smoldering embers, picturing the faces of his girls next to the ones he'd met on the road.
Ember paused at the tent flap. She watched the stars, then looked at Sylas, then at the sleeping forms of Nyxar and Vespera. She shook her head once, smiling tiredly, and muttered:
"Weird family. Weird life. Let's move before something else tries to die."
Sylas laughed softly, and for a moment the world felt like it had given them a tiny reprieve.
Narrator: "Well. That was an eventful — and very lore-giving — chapter."