Charles knows, from the moment he slips out of his house to find Erik waiting for him with a sideways smile and a hand-basket of gear, that it will be a day to remember. The whole day of roaming the fields and woods, while they languidly try to catch fish and Erik works on holding his metal rod without his hands, when they head by mutual accord into the cooler shadows and stumble laughing over another disheveled couple* before they find a shady nook of their own, while they entwine between a great willow's roots and take the afternoon's pleasure with each other, Charles feels every warm moment indelibly tinting his memory, storing up joy to revisit for the rest of his life.

He only learns why when he and Erik meander back to the village , slow and easy and side by side until Raven's distant distress bleeds into his thoughts and prompts him to run. He reaches home, Erik close beside him, to find Raven before the door weeping in Irene's arms; before Charles needs even ask, Irene raises her blank white eyes unerringly to his and says, "The Empire's tax collectors are riding, they'll reach us before the week ends."

The words strike Charles to his heart, as he lifts his gaze to his poor, peaceful village and realizes instantly what and who must be the tax.