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It's their 13th mission when it happens for the first time.
Still low on the ranks, although how aware of that Cavendish is is up for debate, being sent on some low-brow mission in bumfuck nowhere, Roman Empire. Similar to future endeavors of theirs, protecting a plant from going extinct.
This one, however, has a little bit more value. Silphium, also known as laserwort, was said to hold many beneficial properties. Most importantly, as a medicinal product. Due to overconsumption, this plant was soon to go extinct. The B.O.T.T was seeing to it that this would not come to be.
"Dakota, pay attention!" Cavendish's smooth voice comes rushing in, distracting Dakota from his current act of sheep petting. "We must remain focused! The ones coming to uproot this plant may be here any moment!
"Cav, I highly doubt it's gonna take the both of us to stop some Roman boy from taking a pretty plant for his crush." Dakota rubs a hand down the sheep's nose. "Y'know, I probably got some family around me right now."
"Hm?"
"Probably. Somewhere in Italy or Ethiopia."
"Well, it's not Italy or Ethiopia yet." Cavendish points out.
"Duh." Dakota rolls his eyes.
Cavendish shifts uncomfortably. "Dakota, would you please watch the plant for a moment?" Dakota looks behind him and sees Cavendish's tension.
"Oh, need a piss break?" Cavendish groans and puts his face in his hand.
"Yes, so-"
"I'll watch, I'll watch! I get it, nature calls. Don't worry that little ugly lip stubble of yours."
"It is not-" Cavendish sighs. "Thank you." Cavendish makes a run for it.
Dakota turns his back away from the sheep he'd been petting, unhearing of the footsteps approaching.
They had a general idea of what was going to happen- someone was coming to pluck this laserwort for one reason or another.
They did not know that they were to be picked by Roman soldiers, as B.O.T.T did not feel it pertinent to find out the specifics.
Turns out Bumfuck Nowhere, Roman Empire was actually Crete and Cyrenaica, Roman Empire. And this particular plant they were guarding was meant to be a gift for Roman Emperor, Nero.
No one would be able to realize the danger until it was far too late.
The talking is what makes Dakota hear them. He turns around to see two armored men approaching.
He freezes for a moment before remembering the mission. Hey, those probably aren't even the guys meant to take the laserwort. And even if they are, they'll be reasonable. Surely.
It's that thought process that lands Dakota on his back with an arrow pointing at him. Hell, he would have abandoned the damn thing if they had just threatened him. Instead, they went straight to violence.
If any humor could be found in him in this moment, Dakota would crack a joke at the expense of military men. He does not have even an ounce in the lightest parts of his heart.
Dakota, ever the raised-Catholic, begins to make his final prayers. Hopefully, if there's a God, he'll forgive him for all his lack of faith and other blasphemous actions. He raises a hand to begin the sign of the cross when he hears scuffling.
He does not get the change to see what exactly Cavendish did, but he does figure it out. At some point, Cavendish had come back and seen Dakota, about to be impaled, and had taken action.
Knocking out the first soldier with a rock must have been quick work, what with Cavendish's surprising strength. The second solider was too preoccupied to notice his colleague's defeat.
In Cavendish's mind, as he saw the soldier's hand begin to ease, he had one option. He makes a dash for it, getting himself directly in front of the bow.
The arrow flew through the air, but not for nearly as long as it should have.
Straight into Cavendish's throat.
There's a moment where no party realizes what had just transpired, as Cavendish lands on the ground. Limp.
It does not kill him, not immedietely. It will be the blood loss that does it.
The solider looks at him and grunts, annoyed, before looking to his partner. His partner lays on the ground limp as well, decidedly more well off than Cavendish. He looks angry, but not enough to retaliate immediately.
He groans, at what Dakota imagines he sees at an inconvenience, before bringing out another arrow.
In the moments this take, Dakota is scrambling to get to Cavendish. Cavendish, looking paler by the moment, makes moans that sound akin to annoyance. Dakota can only make out one word- run.
Dakota hesitates-
How? How could anyone expect him to run? As his soul is flowing from his partner's neck? As an artery is bursting from his chest, wishing that if he could not heal Cavendish's wounds, then that Dakota should join him? How could Cavendish expect him to run from someone he is just realizing means far more to him than anything this world could possibly offer?
-Before seeing the arrow be put into position again.
It all happens so fast. And somehow, someway, Dakota makes his way back to the Time Vehicle.
He does not have Cavendish's blood on him, which he should. If not because he should have cared for him- should have saved him, should have cradled him- then for the pure and unadulterated haunt it has already left on his soul.
Dakota's mission now is to go back to B.O.T.T, tell them he lost his partner in the line of duty, and for them to complain of the huge paperwork he was going to be giving them.
He knows they are third-class, they are expendable. Many of them die. Most, actually. It's a tough line of work. But Dakota's seen tougher.
He's not sure there's anything as tough as this, though.
"When someone is in trouble, he's a good man to have around."
Dakota puts the keys in the ignition.
He hopes Cavendish was right. Is right. Will be right.
There is no deliberation, for there is nothing to deliberate on.
Balthazar Cavendish will not die today.