Even before they were properly out of the City, the hooded man knew that the prince would be a hindrance. The city was built upon older an older city, upon an even older settlement, and to make it safely out, the hooded man had led his small party down into the sewage system underground, And while he was familiar with the 'Thieves' Highway, the boy Ancor and the prince were not. But the boy followed quickly, his youth sometimes making him careless, for twice he knocked his head when the ceiling suddenly dropped. 'Careful Acorn, t'is low here', Bran hissed to the boy. Hood dropped back,, the prince wasn't following quick enough and in this speed it was going to take them three days to Beecham's. He whistled once a quick and sharp note and Bran halted the boy, turning towards the hooded man. 'We under Tillie's, Bran? Ain't that t'Third Wall there you standing?' Bran only nodded, looking questioningly at the hooded man.<br/><br/>Hood turned to the prince, 'Y'r Highness, t'is brave you coming, but y'r not fit 'nuff. W'need to hurry t'get t'yr sister. We're bring'g you up. A friend of ours has a bar here'. Tillie's bar was indeed technically a place where people could go for drinks, but very little people<i>only</i>had a drink there. Miss Tillie, a lot older as her youthful name suspected, provided every service under the sun, but she was also a sister of his mother, or so she had always told him. With the current situation, Tillie's would be the safest place for the prince. Bran lifted the prince on his shoulders, something the royal wasn't used to, but his pale face gave away he had to be in a lot more pain as he had been letting out. Up into the basement of Tillie's and back down on the Highway costed them nearly two, very valuable hours. And just like Hood, Miss Tillie had recognized the prince immediately and had asked no further questions. 'Godspeed Hood, go save the princess, the sooner her, or the prince are on the throne, the better for everyone'.<br/><br/>The next thirty-six hours the hooded man pushed his two companions to their limits, after they had left the Thieves' Highway under the city, they had remained in wood- and shrublands, avoiding villages and towns, purely out of precaution, in case the kidnappers had left people behind. Hood was certain that it wasn't just about the princess, the country was betrayed and if no-one from the royals took hold of the throne, any invader could cease the throne. There was one town Hood and his two companions couldn't avoid. Foinavon, roughly halfway their journey to Beecham's. Foinavon was the town which held the bridge of the river and although one could get around it, something the kidnappers would have no doubt done, Hood didn't have the time for that. The town was in disarray as well, like the entire country would be, But he knew they were spotted by the local Guild of Thieves, the moment they had sneaked through the open city gates.<br/><br/>It wasn't the hood itself that accounced him, more people, of all professions wore hooded jackets and capes. Around where his right ear was, a small patch of auburn hew, set him out. For someone who didn't know his reputation, and there were many of those among the normal citizens of the country, the patch could almost be seen as a fault in the production process, a seamstress dropping some point. The small youth standing against the outside wall of a closed bar whistled a local song, and it was Bran who hand-signaled to Hood that they were seen. With the streets empty, the three travellers stood out, despite the fading light of the day ending. But when Hood turned towards the noble boy Ancor, the youth's eyes turned big, suddenly stopping his whistled song, disappearing in a small alley. 'Right Hood, them know we're here. Them know who y'are, what we do?' Hood looked at his friend, before whispering 'Nuffin', ain't y'seen t'way the youth held s'hand? He one of ours, Bran. W'press on. But with luck, the Guild holds t'bridge. If Robbie still runs 'ere, we be fine crossing it'.<br/><br/>Through alleys and small streets they hurried towards the bridge, to be halted fifty yards away from it. 'Hood, you're far from home'. 'Des'p'rate times, Robbie, we's on a mission to save t'kingdom. Y'heard them took t'princess?'. The leader of Foinavon's Guild only nodded. 'You need anything, Hood?' They looked each other in the eyes, 'Safe crossing, and f'you t'hold t'city'.  And so it happened, orders were whistled, small shrieks exchanged between unseen men and boys and half an hour later they left the town on the other side of the river. They reached Beecham's still ahead of the agreed time, despite the delay right at the start of their journey. Beecham's Corner was a small hill, with a single hut standing on top of it. In days long gone a small fortress had been located on the hill, outlooking the valley ahead. The border was beyond the valley, but after decades of peace, the fortress was abondoned, the wood taken to build houses in villages and towns, the single hut remaining. It was quiet when they arrived. 'Bran, see if'ye can shoot a rabbit, Acorn, gather som'wood'. Hood sat down on the grass, his back against the hut, overlooking the valley. He needed to come up with a plan crossing the border. He trusted no-one bar his men, but he wasn't going to take them all into enemy territory. Six or seven, apart from himself, a maximum of eight men in total. Acorn and Bran were coming for sure, but the others, he had to think.