You'd think a guy who was determined to be the best swordsman in the whole country would know how to train without injuring himself in easily preventable ways, but then you'd be someone who had never met Guy of the Kutolah.
"So... can you go over that again? Just to make absolutely sure I'm clear on the exact chain of events, here?" Matthew sometimes has a hard time holding in his laughter when it concerns Guy, and knows it's probably very obvious. This does not perturb him overmuch.
Guy lets out a put-upon sigh and grinds his teeth. "I was never very good at using bows." He's glancing down at the bow by his feet, completely unable to look Matthew in the eye, which only makes it funnier to him. "I thought I could practice a little, in case I'm ever in a situation where there's no other option. I... forgot... some of the basics of good archery form."
Matthew couldn't hold in his bark of laughter. "Hah! And you're always going on and on about how important proper form is, how someone can hurt themselves if they don't know how to hold a sword properly—"
"I wasn't swinging it around wildly like you do, you ass!" Guy hisses as he flings his arm out dramatically to illustrate his point, tugging on the bright red abrasion on his forearm in the process.
"And you decided to practice archery, a skill you have barely any prior experience with, and didn't ask someone who knows what they're doing to supervise and offer pointers, because...?"
Guy scowls. "Obviously it was stupid," he mutters. "Rath and Wil were busy with other things, I couldn't ask them."
"Gods above, you're hopeless," Matthew sighs. "Come on, let's go see Serra."
"Absolutely not!" Guy yells, and Matthew is a little startled at the force of it.
"What, you're planning on taking the rest of the day off? Or potentially making the injury worse by aggravating it with aggressive practice, resulting in a larger wound that's more difficult and time-consuming to heal later?"
Guy's expression is still set in a petulant scowl, and Matthew decides more teasing is probably not going to make the situation any better, so he continues staring at him instead, waiting him out.
When Guy, in his infinite stubbornness, shows no sign of relenting, Matthew sighs. "You're such a pain in my ass. Come on, I've got bandages and ointment in my tent. At least let me patch it up."
Guy's bewildered expression after that is extremely funny, but Matthew doesn't have much time to appreciate it, insisting on dragging him over to his tent before Guy changes his mind or decides to be even more difficult.
Not that Matthew would take no for an answer if there was any chance it might bring a healer's wrath down upon him, but Matthew is a practical guy. If he can do something the easy way, with less effort on his part, that's always his preference.
Lucky for him, Guy seemed to have given up on making a fuss, and is mostly quiet while Matthew wraps up the wound. He barely even reacts when Matthew cleans it first, which is unusual for him; generally, Guy will complain about everything Matthew does, for any reason.
Matthew almost asks him about it, but in the end decides he isn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Matthew thinks he should be used to the chaos of battles by now, but somehow it always seems to catch him off-guard. He'll never stop appreciating having Mark oversee the army's tactics, calling out orders just moments before something terrible has a chance to happen, giving them enough time to react and prevent situations they can't recover from. There have been a lot less casualties since he joined them.
But even Mark misses things every now and then. There are few combinations Matthew hates more than a mage who's been trained in stealth.
That's supposed to be his purview, godsdamnit.
"Guy, look out!"
Matthew turns just in time to see Guy react to the call a second too late, throwing himself to the side but not completely out of the trajectory of a fire spell, which clips him, the blast throwing him forcefully to the ground.
Matthew is at his side as quickly as he's able, throwing his last dagger at the source of the spell before the smoke has cleared enough for him to see clearly, but he hears a pained groan followed by a thud as a body crumples to the ground and feels dark satisfaction curl in his gut, even while he's painfully aware that he's now unarmed and vulnerable.
"Guy," Matthew says, dropping to his knees, giving him a firm shake. "Guy, get up, we have to move right now."
Matthew hears hoofbeats and jumps back to his feet, bracing himself for more enemies and frantically trying to figure out how he's going to fight weaponless while protecting a disoriented Guy, and then sags in relief when Rath materializes out of the smoke in front of him.
"Thought you might need this," he says, tossing a new pouch of throwing daggers to Matthew.
"Perfect timing," Matthew says with a smirk as he carches it, tying it to his belt to free his hands. "Quick, get him to the healers, I've got the rest of these jerks," Matthew says, throwing a dagger into the smoke where he hears quiet footsteps and grinning in triumph as another enemy slumps to the ground. "Guy, you will get treated by a healer and then stay there and rest, do you hear me?" Matthew says, hoisting Guy into the saddle behind Rath as an arrow whizzes past his ear, just missing Rath's horse. "Go!" He shouts, and as Rath gallops toward the rear line, Matthew lets out a breath of relief as he turns toward the enemy line and the source of that arrow.
He's got work to do.
*
Matthew is exhauted. It took hours to clear out all the bandits, and they had to be extra careful with the bushes and blind ledges creating spots where it would be easy to hide, especially with the damned fog, but in the end Hector was pretty certain they'd gotten the lot of them, and ordered Matthew to return to camp. He had no objections.
Matthew knew he wouldn't be able to get any rest until he'd stopped by the medical tent, so that is his first destination.
"Wow, you look terrible! Let me get those scratches for you," Serra says cheerfully as Matthew ducks into the tent, but Matthew shakes his head in decline.
"I'm fine, I just need to rest, save your magic. How's the world's most annoying patient?"
"Over here, sleeping," says a low voice behind Matthew, and he whirls around to see Rath, sitting by Guy's mat. Guy is sleeping restlessly, sweat coating his forehead.
Matthew crouches down next to him, not liking his slightly rapid breathing, or the fact that his clothes are singed, reminding Matthew how uncomfortably close that fire spell came to incinerating him.
"Oh, he's fine, the magic just panicked him," Serra says, slapping Matthew on the shoulder as she passes behind him on her way to another cot on the other side of the tent. "He inhaled some of the smoke from that fire blast, so his voice is going to sound rough for a couple days and he needs to drink a lot of water, but he'll be completely back to normal after that. Healer's honor," she says, adding a wink.
Matthew breathes out a sigh of relief. Serra never exaggerates where healing is concerned. Not when it's serious, anyway. Her joking and quips are usually a sign that her patient is truly in the clear.
"I have been keeping guard, ensuring he stays here to rest," Rath adds quietly, and Matthew glances over at him, a little surprised. "He was cooperative, for him."
"I find that hard to believe," Matthew scoffs, and Rath blinks, placid expression unchanging. "But I'm glad he didn't give you too much trouble."
Rath huffs out a quiet breath of air. "He is difficult, but he seems to listen to you, when it's important."
Matthew barks out a disbelieving laugh, and is almost immediately bowled over by a wave of dizziness. He shakes his head, and realizes that Rath has caught him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him upright.
"You need rest," he says, and Matthew nods.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm going. Thanks again for watching out for his dumb ass for me, I promise I'll be back on full-time idiot duty after I've slept a few hours."
Rath nods again, and Matthew stumbles out of the tent, barely making it back to his own before he collapses into his sleeping mat.
He's so tired he completely misses Rath's small, knowing smile before he staggers out of the tent.
"Oh my god, Guy, what did you do?" It takes all of Matthew's self control not to dramatically pinch his nose as he approaches the campfire. Then he remembers who he's talking to and abandons his paltry attempt at decorum, pinching his nose and waving dramtically as if to clear toxic fumes.
Guy's expression falls. "Is it that bad?"
"Guy, this smells like something died. Days ago. Wasn't it fresh just this morning? How did you even manage that?"
Guy scowls. "I did everything Lowen said, I don't understand what went wrong!" Guy finishes chopping up onions to add to his pungent stew, his eyes beginning to tear up.
"Alright, try—"
"Ouch!" As Guy pushes the onions into the stew, some of the liquid splashes out of the pot right onto the exposed skin of his fingers and forearm. As he yelps and flaps his hands around a tear spills from his eye, and he wipes it away before Matthew can warm him not to, and then renews his yelping as he realizes he still has onion juice on his hands.
"Alright, I think you've caused enough damage. Move over," Matthew says, shoving Guy to the side. He takes one sniff of the stew, wrinkles his nose, and grabs enough fabric to insulate his hands so he can remove it from the flame.
"We're starting over, this is unsalvageable. Go grab some more onions and whatever vegetables are available, and I'll see what we can do with them. This abomination is going in the woods where it belongs, and the animals can have it. If they dare."
"You don't have to be so mean about it," Guy mutters sullenly, but he scampers off to their storage tent quickly enough, clearly relieved not to be in charge of the food any longer, and Matthew shakes his head with a grin.
It takes them an extra hour after having to restart from scratch, but they end up with a decent enough vegetable stew. Lowen even compliments Guy on it. "We'll have to leave the cooking to you more often, you've really improved!"
"Please no," Guy wheezes, and Matthew cackles, Lowen smirking at him behind Guy's back.
"Don't worry, I suspect Matthew will be around to intervene next time, too," he adds with a huge shit-eating grin, and Matthew stops laughing abruptly, his stomache dropping.
"I'm not sure what you're trying to insinuate," he says, crossing his arms with an unimpressed look.
"Sure you don't," Lowen says with a smirk that widens into a huge yawn. "Well, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to sleep. Thanks for handling the food for me today, you two," he says, before ambling off toward his tent.
"I'm going to figure out how to do it on my own eventually, I just need more practice," Guy says with a scowl, and Matthew can't help the relief at Guy's obliviousness to Lowen's teasing.
"You'd better, or you'll owe me favors until you die at this rate," Matthew says with a chuckle, but his humor vanishes when Guy's expression hardens.
"I didn't realize this was adding to my debt. I'll get Rebecca to help me next time," Guy snaps, shooting to his feet. "She won't make fun of me over it, either."
"She definitely will, though," Matthew says, realizing immediately that he's said the wrong thing again.
"Well, I guess you two can laugh about it together," he snarls, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation before stalking off toward his own tent.
Matthew sighs. He probably should've known better than to joke about the debt, but it's gotten so easy to make fun of Guy, he forgets himself sometimes. He feels a curl of guilt, holding it over him still, even when he knows he shouldn't, and Guy certainly deserves better than that from him. But Matthew has never had any misconceptions about what kind of person he is. He's a spy, for crying out loud.
Matthew finishes cleaning up the campsite by himself, figuring he definitely deserves it.
Matthew doesn't find out about the sparring match until almost an hour after it has concluded because he was out on an errand for Lord Hector.
After he gives his report he overhears Priscilla discussing the severity of the injuries with Florina, and with anger simmering in his veins he beelines for the healer tent. Again.
"Ow!"
"This would be over faster if you would remain still, Guy," Lucius says gently, and he's tired enough that some of his irritation is showing through.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Matthew barks as soon as he's in hearing range, and Lucius glances up in concern at his tone. Guy just looks annoyed.
"Nothing is wrong with me," he spits petulantly. "I have to keep challenging him to know if I've improved, I've explained this to you before."
"I think I'm going to go check on— I'll be back soon. Try not to reopen your wounds," Lucius mutters before absconding from the tent. Matthew takes his place at the stool by Guy's cot, scowling down at him.
"If your sparring sessions always end with you in the healer's tent, they're doing more harm than good and you should knock it the hell off. We're in the middle of a war, you moron. What if we got ambushed by bandits right now and instead of being able to help fight them off, someone else has to stay back to guard you from them?"
Guy looks chagrined, but scowls, stubborn as ever. "I'll never beat him if I don't practice, and it doesn't help me improve when he doesn't go all out. I have to be better than him, and this is the only way!"
Matthew huffs out a frustrated breath. "You still have the whole rest of the army to consider, you could try not being so incredibly selfish for once in your miserable life!"
Guy looks as though he'd been struck, and Matthew immediately regrets the harsh words, especially because he didn't even mean them. He searches for a way to make amends, but the words stick in his throat. The silence stretches out, becoming thick and almost unbearable.
"You could at least find people to spar against who don't send you to the healers every time," Matthew finally grumbles, crossing his arms.
"No one here is nearly as good as Karel, and I've beaten everyone at least once. It wouldn't change anything."
An idea pops into Matthew's head. "Well, everyone except one," he says with a tilt of his head.
Guy looks at him with a frown, before understanding dawns in his expression, only to be replaced by another frown, this one more thoughtful than confused.
Matthew narrows his eyes. "I was joking."
"You have a point, though. I haven't managed to beat you yet."
Matthew groans and drops his head into his hands. "You are the most single-minded person I have ever met in my entire life. Guy, I do not want to fight you, especially not if you're going to end up at the healers because of it."
"I might win," Guy says, taunting, and Matthew picks up his head to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Not a chance," he says, and Guy grins wolfishly at him, which makes Matthew's stomach flip.
"We won't know for sure until we spar. Fight me!"
"Forget it," Matthew says, and they continue arguing until Lucius returns, stepping tentatively back into the tent, but they're both smiling the whole time, their earlier argument completely forgotten.
The next time Guy is injured — Matthew has completely given up on a reality where Guy isn't visiting the healers regularly, and it certainly hasn't helped his blood pressure, but at least he's not deluded any longer — it's because of a javelin.
When Matthew hears the word javelin in the same sentence as Guy he nearly has a conniption. He knows the various advantages and disadvantages of weaponry just as well as Mark does, and in his head he calculates the advantages a spear has with its extra-long reach, how it becomes incredibly difficult to dodge when you've got a stubby little sword and you need to get in close under their guard to do damage, let alone when the owner of the spear also has the option of hurling it short distances and impaling you long before you can get in range. Matthew takes a deep breath, tries not to hyperventilate, and returns his attention to taking out the archers perched up along the cliffs before they can do too much damage to the fliers or their mages. When they're finally all incapacitated, he hurries back to the front line.
Matthew doesn't have a chance to check on Guy until after the battle has ended, with more than one close call where he'd been distracted — he's really going to have to work on that, he seems to be getting worse about it, not better. But when Matthew gets to the healer's tent, he's a little surprised to see he isn't the first visitor there.
"Stop moving, you idiot, and let Priscilla work! She's almost done, ten more minutes, max. You can handle that, right?"
Matthew's gut twists as he hears the worry Serra is trying desperately to mask under her insults and incessant chatter. He ducks into the tent, and feels a wave of nausea at the amount of blood that greets him.
"Oh, Matthew, great. Could you take Serra and fetch some fresh bandages and water for me, please?" Priscilla barely looks up from her work, and Matthew knows when he'd be more of a hindrance than a help.
"Certainly. Serra?" Matthew waves her over, and Serra looks torn for a moment, but after a glance from Guy to Priscilla she clenches her jaw and follows Matthew out of the tent.
She's silent for most of the walk to the supplies before the words start tumbling out of her, as though she can't hold them in any longer.
"I wasn't paying attention. He dived in front of that lance for me," Serra says, her voice barely above a whisper, and Matthew's heart aches for them both. "If he doesn't — if she can't—"
"Priscilla is incredible, he's going to be just fine," Matthew says, with somewhat more confidence than he feels. There had been so much blood. He shudders, and shoves the memory to the side. "Come on, we've seen Priscilla handle worse injuries than that," he says, as much for himself as for her.
"Maybe," Serra says, and Matthew knows better than to comment on the doubt in her voice. They finish collecting the water and bandages, desperately in need of something useful to be doing, and bring them to Priscilla. By then Serra has calmed down enough to ask if Priscilla needs any help. She gives Serra a quick once-over before nodding, and together they're able to get Guy stable.
Matthew maintains his vigil outside the healer's tent where he won't be too in the way, but within shouting range if they need anything.
None of them leave the tent until near dawn the following morning, but by the time they do Guy is sleeping peacefully, and Priscilla is confident he'll make a full recovery.
It doesn't do much to ease the sick feeling Matthew gets every time he remembers the bloody scene he'd walked in on, or how close the wound had been to being lethal, or the frequency with which Guy seemed to end up in this damned tent.
*
"Matthew, you have to save me!"
Guy stumbles into Matthew's tent, one arm in a sleeve and the other hanging loose, the clean bandages visible where his shirt is hanging off of him,
"Um, is there something wrong with your shirt?" Matthew asks, looking up from the daggers he was in the middle of cleaning, and Guy frowns in confusion before glancing down and turning bright red.
"Shit. No, it's fine, that's not — it's Serra. Can I please hide here? Tell her you haven't seen me? I'll owe you one!"
Matthew's stomach twists, but he grins and nods. He knows how Serra can be, especially when she's feeling guilty. "Yeah, sure, no problem."
"Oh thank the gods," Guy says with obvious relief, and darts over to crouch behind Matthew's trunk on the other side of the tent just before Matthew hears another set of footsteps approaching through the grass.
"Where the hell — hey Mattie, have you seen Guy?" Serra says, ducking into the tent.
"Not since yesterday, why?" Matthew asks casually, not looking up from where he's gone back to cleaning his equipment.
"Oh, nothing much, I just wanted to make sure he got breakfast. And see if he needed help with any chores, his wound is probably still pretty painful. Or maybe see if he wanted me to re-wrap his bandages, I don't know if he had a chance—"
"Serra," Matthew says, cutting her off. "I'm sure he'll let you know if he needs anything."
Serra's face twists in a skeptical scowl. "Guy? Are you kidding?"
Matthew laughs, nodding his head. "Okay, you got me there. Even he's not stupid enough to forgo tending his wounds so they heal as fast as possible, though. I think what he probably needs most is rest."
Serra scowls, but then it drops and she just looks... kind of miserable. "Yeah, you're probably right. I just..."
"I know," Matthew says, because he really, really does.
"Yeah, I know you do," Serra says with a sad smile, and Matthew feels something in his chest squeeze tight and painful.
A holler from Lyn breaks the silence, and Matthew's smile shifts to a more cheerful one. "Looks like Lyn needs you," he says with false cheer, and Serra wrinkles her nose.
"I'll find him and annoy him until he listens to me, mark my words," Serra says. "And don't think I'm done with you, either!" She calls out, pointing accusingly at Matthew before she turns around to leave and find out what Lyn wants, running off in the direction of her voice.
"What the heck was that about?" Guy mumbles sullenly as he emerges from behind the trunk.
Matthew has to fight to hold in a sigh. "Oh, you know. War," he says vaguely as he goes back to cleaning his daggers.
Guy frowns at him, and he looks like he's about to ask a follow-up question before he grimaces and puts a hand across his midriff with a low grunt.
Matthew is on his feet in an instant. "You did change your bandages yesterday, right? Did you see one of the healers to check the wound? Do I need to get someone?"
"Oh my god, no, it's just sore. Leave me alone, I'm fine," Guy grumbles, swatting him away, but he says it through clenched teeth and Matthew glares at him.
"Stay. Here. I will be right back with Lucius, but if you're not here when I get back then I will find Serra and sic her on you instead, I swear it. Got me?"
Guy grimaces but he nods, and when he drops heavily to sit on Matthew's trunk, he's pretty sure Guy is planning to actually stay there. Matthew slips out to find the first healer he spots and is relieved when he runs into Lucius fairly quickly, interrupting a chat with Sain to bring him back to look at Guy's injury.
Lucius doesn't let Guy off without any reprimanding at all but he keeps it unusually brief, and Matthew thinks Guy got it pretty easy, all things considered.
Matthew likes invading castles way more than fighting out in open fields. There's so much more strategy when you've got walls and narrow halls and siderooms to contend with, and fewer archers for their fliers to worry about. There's artistry in planning an attack that gives you the most advantages, cornering enemies and cutting them off from their reinforcements, and using the shadowy corners to your advantage. But best of all, they almost always have locks for him to pick.
When Hector gives Matthew his instructions — scout ahead, open doors for them, steal what he can, look for anything that might be useful — he's not surprised, and is actually pretty excited to get to do what he's best at.
He's less prepared for the traps cleverly disguised in the floor that drop him to a lower level, into a dungeon with no locks for him to pick — none that can be opened from within, anyhow, and a broken foot that makes escaping on his own even less of a likelihood.
He can't believe he was dumb enough to walk directly into a trap, Legault will never let him live that one down, but he supposes even the best thieves have their off-days.
He loses track of how long he spends in there, hoping none of the castle guards pass by before Hector or one of the others finishes with them. He wakes up, realizing he'd lost consciousness for a while, when he hears the sound of feet descending the steps.
"Matthew!"
Oh, thank the gods, Matthew thinks to himself before calling out weakly, "Guy, over here."
The footsteps pick up their pace and stampede around the corner, skidding to a halt outside the cell Matthew is trapped in.
"Hold on, I'll get this open, just give me a minute," Guy says, looking around frantically.
"Check — the end of the hall," Matthew says with a grunt, trying not to jostle his foot. "Should be a — guardroom, with a lever."
"Got it," Guy says, and Matthew doesn't hear anything else before the world fades to black.
*
Matthew is blearily aware of how much his foot hurts. It occurs to him that he is quite warm, for a dungeon, but then he is jostled once again and with the shooting pain up his leg, the same pain that had woken him, he remembers that he is no longer in the cold depths of the dungeon, but someone — it was Guy, right? — had shown up, and oh, that explains it. He's being carried by Guy, that's why it's a little bumpy, but far less cold than it had been earlier, down in the depths of the castle.
At least he's on Guy's back as opposed to clutched in his arms like some sort of princess — Matthew isn't sure he could handle the blow to his carefully maintained image of extremely capable spy, who is definitely never in need of rescue. He vaguely considers that it's a shame he won't really remember much of the journey due to his current state, because he's never been this close to Guy in all the time he's known him. It's a damn travesty, because Guy's back is strong but also weirdly comfortable where Matthew's cheek rests against it.
He thinks it would be a good memory if it didn't hurt quite so much.
*
When Matthew blinks awake, it is dark, and his foot doesn't hurt any more.
"Ah, you're finally conscious. Do you feel any pain?"
It takes Matthew a couple moments to process the words, and focus on Lucius leaning over him. His expression is calm, if a little worn.
"No pain, it just feels... heavy, mostly."
"Yes, it's strapped down to keep it still while it sets. I'll keep working a little more, just to be sure it's steady, and then I'll undo the bindings in a couple hours. What do you remember?"
It takes Matthew a minute to retrace the memories from earlier in the day. "I was sneaking around the castle, got caught in a trap. Fell through the floor, that part really sucked, I don't recommend it." Lucius chuckles, which feels like a victory to Matthew, and he grins back for a moment before trying to remember what happened after that.
"Broke my foot in the fall. I was there for a while — not sure how long, I passed out for a bit, but I thought it'd be much longer. Then Guy showed up. I think he carried me out? I was pretty out of it for the rest."
Lucius nods. "That all sounds correct, from what Guy and Raven have told me. Hector will want to know you're awake, but he doesn't need a report until after I'm finished here. Sound good?"
"Sure," Matthew mumbles, exhaustion beginning to claim him once more.
"That goes for you as well," Lucius says, but Matthew doesn't process the words because he's already fallen back to sleep.
*
"Come in," Hector says in response to Matthew's request for entry outside his tent.
"Apologies, Milord, for the delayed report," Matthew says, but Hector waves the apology away.
"Stop that, you were seriously injured, that takes priority over a report. You sure you're not in pain any longer? This can wait another day if you still need to rest."
Matthew tries not to scowl, probably with limited success, judging by Hector's look of amusement. "Sir, if I have to stay in bed for another hour I'm going to lose my mind. Please just let me give my damned report."
Hector chuckles. "Alright, out with it, then. At least sit down while you talk."
Matthew rolls his eyes, but obliges, taking a seat opposite Hector while he relays the events of his disastrous looting and reconnaisance endeavors.
Hector nods along until Matthew reaches the end of his memory, looking thoughtful. "When you missed your check-in, I was worried, but I couldn't go in after you until I could be sure it wasn't a trap. Not until Guy forced my hand, anyway."
"Excuse me?" Matthew is certain he'd heard Hector wrong.
Hector chuckles. "He asked where you were, and when I told him, threatened to go in after you alone. I couldn't lose two good soldiers in a day, so naturally, I was forced to send everyone in after you, despite our lack of intel. We're very lucky you were the most serious injury. Regardless, he's the reason we got there so quickly; you might not have made it, otherwise. And that's on me — it won't happen again if I can help it."
Matthew wonders if he suffered a blow to the head when he fell through the floor.
"Uh," is all he manages.
"We're all done here, if you've got somewhere else to be," Hector says with a smile, before clearing his throat. "Of course, Lucius will kill me if I don't sternly tell you to get your rest, so see to it that you make it back to your tent to do that, hmm?"
"Yes, sir," Matthew says automatically, in a daze as he rises to leave the tent.
He's barely taken two steps outside before he hears a very familiar set of soft footsteps.
"Should you be upright already?"
"You're one to talk," Matthew mutters petulantly, his irritation spiking, but when he turns to face Guy, Guy's eyes are locked on his foot with a frown. Matthew feels his irritation melt away just as quickly as it had appeared.
"Lucius fixed me up. I'm fine, really," he says, his tone more gentle. "Although if what Hector said is true, it sounds like I have you to thank for that, because I'd probably be dead if you all hadn't shown up so quickly." Matthew runs a hand down his face, the shame almost overwhelming. He owes Guy his life now, just as much — if not more so — than Guy ever owed him. "I guess this makes us even, huh?"
Guy's hand, which had been reaching toward Matthew, freezes before dropping to his side, his expression shuttering. "You're the one who's been keeping track," he says, his voice hollow.
"Whoa, no, that was — shit, not what I meant. I mean—"
Matthew runs his hands through his hair in frustration, willing his brain to find a way to put what he wants to say into the right words. Frank sincerity has never been his strong suit, if he'd been capable of it at all, in the past.
"Look, I— I considered us even as soon as you joined up, if I'm being honest." Guy's eyes are studying Matthew's face intently, and Matthew can't manage to meet them, stumbling through his explanation while looking anywhere else. "I may have — I would say you owed me, because it — it used to be funny, you know. And I thought... Well, I knew Lord Hector needed you, here, helping us. And I didn't — I mean, the only reason you were here was because I blackmailed you into switching sides, so. I guess what I'm trying to say is you're off the hook. You don't owe me anything, and haven't for... for a long time. You're free to go whenever you want, your debt is paid in full. And then some. I won't bother you about it anymore."
Guy's eyes are still locked onto Matthew, his focus intense. "You think I want to leave?"
Matthew feels giddy hope flare to life in his chest, but quickly smothers it. There's no way to know how he means that, he tells himself sternly.
"Uh. Maybe? I mean, you've been here against your will this whole time, so I figured—"
Guy clenches his jaw and finally looks away, his hands balled into tight fists. "For the first week, maybe that was true."
Matthew's head snaps up.
"First — week? Wait, how—"
Guy turns back to him, his eyes searching, and Matthew's face suddenly feels like it's boiling under the scrutiny.
"After the first week, I realized this is the right side, the side I want to be on. Yes, I knew I still owed you, but that's not the reason I'm still here. This is where I belong, debt or no. And I'm not going anywhere."
Matthew feels his throat start to close up and hot tears prickle at the corners of his eyes at the overwhelming surge of emotion. All this time, he thought Guy had been here out of some misplaced sense of obligation. He'd been so sure the second he told Guy they were even, Guy would be gone.
Maybe he's been an idiot.
"Besides, I'll never be the best swordsman in all of Sacae until I beat your ass, fair and square."
Matthew huffs out a choked laugh, slightly hysterical, and tries to wipe covertly at his eyes.
"Well, I guess you're stuck here then, because you're never beating me," he says, between laughs and a wet sniffle or two.
"We'll see," Guy says, but there's no challenge in the statement this time.
To Matthew, it sounds more like a promise.