The Legend of Renalta (IC)

Armerza - Small Thoughts

Arising early, Armerza spent some time preparing for the day, primarily in grooming. Carefully twisting stands of hair into golden plaits, decorating and holding the braids with supple thongs of engraved chamois. Tying back the plaits to her mane with a band of leather, studded with stones of hematite and jade. The waves of thick hair laid upon a bodice of thick leather, laced with heavy cord, its shape formed of wide spaced ribs of boiled leather. The garment was square cut, and high in rise, front and back, over a simple, un-dyded woolen tunic of pale gray. If one paid close enough attention, they would notice the leather to be thick enough to protect the wearer quite readily. Belted to her waist, were ruddy brown trousers, while she wore simple leather moccasin-like slippers. It was simple, honest clothing, tough enough for hard labour, but comfortable for Armerza.

In the chamber, she leaned against a pillar, observing the others and their opinions on the matter, while nibbling on dried mushrooms from a pouch at her belt. When Rheanna spoke, she smirked a little. "They would more likely, leave us be in all truth. The people of Rheinfeld are somewhat adverse to dealing with anyone who is not simply human. The trick would be the disguising of Kouri, and a few others of our more notable mages. A plausible backstory of a noble woman," she nodded slightly to The Lady Catrin, "overseeing a trade deal, for her family would excuse our sorest of thumbs as hired guards. The which would be convincing, as it is. So long as none of us disrespects a Templar, or starts bleeding folk, stealing, or otherwise actively drawing attention to ourselves." She passed a glance at James for a moment. "The Rheinfeld capital, is a very plausible option. It is center of trade after all."

A roll of her shoulder, pushing her upright from the pillar, she walked closer to the maps, "The mountains contain plenty of their own risks, but ones that are usually manageable with blade and main." She nodded to Hanus, "But that is when escorting caravans that the Gods themselves have utterly no interest in, other than when they feel like mucking in our lives for a laugh, the pilthas." She spat the last word out with disgust. "That is also Caravans. With scores of well trained guards, and wagon trains that can be used for fortification. We have neither. I would relish the challenge, but the stakes are greater than my desire for a challenge....Much like the Abyss."

Looking back to James, she shot a question at the man, "James, have you ever even been to the Abyss?"

"I've been there... Seen it. The catacomb like tunnels, the plants that try so desperately to draw in fools with a wonderous scent, the ebony skinned pointy eared green blooded... Ah... Their capital folk are quite eccentric. It's not so dangerous a place, so long as you keep your eyes open, and trust nobody."

With a roll of her eyes, "And I'm sure all of the beasts that seem to exist purely to slay any living thing, just make good house pets." With a shake of her head, she does offer a wry smile though, "I won't deny that the Abyss holds a certain appeal to myself, to be sure. The challenge of it is what many a song is sung about. As stated however, there are greater things to worry about than my own desires. Let alone setting foot in the abyss with a host of such as this, where we know not the strengths, not weaknesses of each other in detail. Let alone with those of us who are less than skilled combatants."

"The other Rheinfeld option is much the same to me as going through the capital. Some shifts in where the threats and danger lie, but all in? We have the means."

Stepping back, a hand slipped into the pouch at her waist, grasping a pair of dried fungal caps, as she looked to Kouri, "We can likely take any path you desire, from the Abyss to the Rheinfeld Capital itself." She offered a nod of respect to Gregory, "I doubt Gregory would suggest a route he believed we have utterly no chance at passing through."
 
Oswald walked into the room at the exact moment the meeting was scheduled to start and set his helm on the large table. When James arrived late, Oswald gave him a disapproving frown. The man's total lack professionalism had earned him the Oswald's disdain. James clearly had no discipline and cared little for the mission. He took a backseat to the conversation as the various plans and the other party members gave their opinions. Finally he found himself a moment to give his opinion on the matter.

He addressed the Princess directly. "I believe we should go through the Rheinfeld countryside. The mountains and the Abyss are far too dangerous. Running into an Ork village could spell the end of our expedition, not to mention the bandits, weather conditions, and the lack of proper roads. The Dwarf and the Dark Elf have already given their opinions of the Abyss. Rheinfeld on the other hand offers a good compromise. If we keep our magical footprint minimal and move quickly, the Templar may never even realize we are passing through. Heligen Stuhl does not offer this. Our mages would be entirely shut off from their powers, and here is where I will have to disagree with the dwarf. Any attention drawn would surely spell our doom. I alone am a wanted man, and my appearance could easily raise questions and draw said attention. This is not an issue among the common people of the countryside. In fact, it would become a powerful asset. My arms and armour mark me as a Templar." He gestured to his highly decorated armour. "My word would carry authority among them and the local military patrols. If we keep our heads down and our pace steady, this should be an effective route."
 
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... The Dream always comes when he least wants it.

Once more, they were at their favourite pub in Renalta, off-duty, to discuss the events that had unfolded just before. Maleric had his famous smirk plastered upon his face as he bumped into the Bear, getting his undivided attention. After settling down their mugs, he started the conversation. "I wouldn't believe it if it wasn't for the fact I witnessed it personally. Ludvig Larsson, the most un-charming piece of meat in the entire guard, actually convinced a girl to marry him."
The bear in response glared at him for a few seconds, before giving him a wide smile. "Hey, I'm uncharming, she's uncharming, we're a natural fit, no?" To which Maleric gave him a solid pat on the back before both of them took a solid gulp off their ale.

"Ah... Warm Ale's the best Ale, and this place's the finest of places." The Bear added to their conversation, joy seemingly overwhelming him. Not only had he convinced the Orc-Girl to Marry him, he had a mug of ale, a best friend to support him, and a peaceful kingdom. What more could a man desire? The noises in the taverns continued, the Bear paid them no heed, until he heard one name. "Kouri." It struck him just as quickly as a dagger would his guts at this point, before he looked over towards Maleric, his smile dropped for a serious expression. Maleric's mere glance at it was enough for him to drop his smile as well.

"What's the matter, Ludvig? You essentially got a family life ahead of you now, you old dog, and you're now thinking something's wrong?"

"No, no, it isn't like that. I was just thinking, you remember, Kouri, she denied Typhon?"

"Ah. Yes, she did do that."

"I think she's a proper inspiration for us all."

"Eh? How so? I mean, she had the balls to say no to an angel, but she could've lived in paradise if she had said yes, hell, she could've helped us more up there than down here!"

"Aye. She refused to live in mere ignorance up in the heavens, instead, she just... Decides to stay amongst us. I think she's a honorable princess, and I'm glad that I am there to defend her. What, your loyalty is changing to the Heavens? Besides, it was just one Angel who asked her out. Wasn't a god."

Maleric remained quiet for a few moments, as if he'd reconsider his guards duty, before nodding. "Aye. You're, right, I suppose. I just think she could've, maybe, helped us more up there. But, to hell with any kingdom, high or low, that comes to attack us. We've seen all kinds of hellish beings, you and I, and we'll defend Kouri till the bitter end!" His statement went from being the tone of an old, bitter man to a bashful youth in his prime. However, a mulled shreak was heard, the doors were forced open and the Guardsmen quickly stood up, looking at the figure. Breathing heavily, the stranger called out - "We're under attack!"

Maleric and the Bear looked at each other, before barking out "By whom?!" in unison, like a choir.

"The Angels! They've come to kill us all!"

Maleric and the Bear stared at each other in pure disbelief. The Angels? Why? Maleric responded to the stranger's claim first. "Shut it y-you drunk, you're clearly lying!" The fear in his voice was spilling out into their drinks, and the Bear's stomach churned. It couldn't be...

"Check outside! Flee, flee for your lives!" The Strangers pure screaming got most of the crowd riled up, many retreating out of the pub. Maleric himself was rushing outside, but stopped just as his body had left the pub. He stared off into the heavens for what felt like minutes, the Bear simply staring into him. The Bear had no need to ask him if the claims were true, for Maleric's gaze back to him was a confirmation enough.

A dreadful stare of death glimpsed upon the Guardsmen, before they gave each other a terror-filled nod, their very essensce shaking in fear. They had pledged their allegiance to Kouri, now they would pay for it. A strap of armor and a sword later, they were out.

...

Ludvig awoke from his slumber just as the most dreaded part of the nightmare would've come. A glance into the past, is what he always thought of it as, when he went to sleep. Perhaps this undying state wasn't the true punishment, but the fact he had to relive that part of his life, every time he went back to sleep. It managed to produce a bitter taste into Ludvig. Why though? Why did he always end up feeling bitter about the past? It was a question he had to bear with himself for the rest of his time of walking upon this dead world. Atleast dead to him. He had to revive it, bring Kouri into it's deepest hearts, and perhaps only then can his own tormented existance end and like a phoenix, could he stand up proud as human again. He raised himself up from his lotus-sitting, and headed back into the planning room. He had heard some of their thoughts on the matter and the best roads to take. And then they mentioned the Mountains. It didn't sound bad at first, until... A certain foe was mentioned. Angels.

"We're not walking into the Angels, that's decided straight off. Most of you fresh-bloods might think you stand a chance over them, but you're dead wrong." Ludvig would say as he glanced over the plans. Walking straight off into the net would be the most suicidal plan ever conceivable. More suicidal than the Abyss, as these humans showed great fear for it. Tch. After all, not a single one of them had ever seen what an Angel Invasion looks like, and the hell they unleash. Either way, other paths still existed. "The Capitol is very much as closely suicidal for everyone who actually look like they could handle a fight. And, due to everyone's protests against the Abyss... It's effectively narrowed down to the country side. Besides, I personally don't like the hospitality of those reciding in the Capitol. I'd have a higher chance on the country-side with a disguise."
 
The City or the Country, Mouse?
Kasienka
She had snuck out of Hanus’s rooms before the sun had come up, smoothing her hair and adjusting her trousers before quickly padding down the all barefoot. She wished they could spend more quiet time together, but Kasienka feared Fate wouldn’t allow for it for years. She slid back into her own room and tossed the book she had been carrying onto the small table pushed against the wall to serve as a desk. Once she had sweetened her hair with oils and wrapped it back up into a tight plait she changed into simple moss green trousers and a loose tunic in a similar hue, but blue. Given they weren’t leaving the compound today she only strapped her hunting knife to the outside of her right thigh and put on a thick pair of woolen socks she had filched from Hanus’s trunk while he was more concerned with a map. The stone floors were cold and she had a chance for this small luxury.

She was summoned soon after she had began to etch and scratch in her latest little journal. Rather than continue to put her thoughts on paper she followed the man who had summoned her. The slippery socks gave her pause when she tried to rejoin the group for a discussion to the point where she had grasped a torch’s bracket to keep herself from falling. The millennium old elf had attempted to make the motion graceful, but merely succeeded in getting a chuckle from one of the guards.

Eventually she made it into the meeting room and she slid as close to Hanus’s right as she could manage without keeping someone from taking their earned position. She had been here for a few weeks, it was true, but she had not been given a worthy title to be beside one of the uppers. She was but a small mouse in a field of wolves and snakes. James made it in just as words had begun and she pressed her lips together a little tighter. He ought to make more of an effort on his punctuality than his appearance. Kasienka politely listened to all of the discussions and plans with undivided attention even if she thought some plans were far less worthy of such as others. Once she felt it was appropriate to have her say, she stepped closer to the map and gestured to the countryside.

“We have enough people of combative experience that the country would be perfect. While those outside of the city may be more suspicious of oddities and more superstitious they are always more grateful when they are provided kindness. Doing small services for them such as passing out coins or food could easily buy not only their silence, but their loyalty.” She nodded then stepped back. Ultimately the only path she disliked was the Abyss and it sounded as if it had enough opposition without her adding to the noise. Kasienka flicked her eyes towards Hanus with a brief smile then looked towards the Princess for a decision.

Catrin

The day and night had passed with little to speak of although she had considered taking Mikan up on a few insinuated offers. She slept soundly and rose more easily than she had in ages. While she pulled on a new gown and adjusted it to compliment her figure a guard pounded on her door to summon her for a meeting. Catrin rolled her eyes at the roughness of the announcement as she slid on a few rings and a necklace. They were all mostly plain gold with small gemstones embedded, but the rings accentuated her long, delicate fingers and the necklace reached the somewhat-low neckline of her gown to bring further attention.

She eventually deemed herself ready and left her room in kitten-heeled shoes, each step making a distinctive clicking noise. Catrin was one of the last in the room as she slid near Tahlia with a smile. When James sidled in late she had to suppress a giggle. He was one to watch and he made it so easy. When the magician went so far as to suggest the Abyss, however; he shook her to her very bones. The lady had heard of the terrible things which occurred. Their group would undoubtedly be seen as tasty dormice for the dark elves. She glanced to Hanus, wondering if the rumors about their tastes were true, then looked back to the map.

Catrin scoffed at the country. Such hardship for minimal gain. Why sleep on straw pallets when they could have proper beds at an inn? She shook her head and waved her hand as she moved to take her turn to speak.

“The city would be so much better. Our dearest Mikan has already said she can assist us there as can I. I have a few allies within the walls I’m sure. They could be convinced to silently aid us for a price. Why buy the simple loyalties of starving commoners when we could convince those with better opportunities to our aid? The city is safer and better for the cause as a whole.”

Catrin stepped back and flicked her eyes to James, a brief roll of them giving her opinion on his plan. He may be clever with words and his bird, but he would not lead them to ruins or his own means. He would have no other reason to suggest such a plan unless it somehow benefitted him, and she silently feared what that benefit may be.
 
Sabre
Thoughts and Decisions

The night hadn't been long. Sabre had rested for a moment, but he woke up early to think on the situation. These people he was to travel with are still an unknown, and only one came up to him to speak. Yes, he chose not to engage in conversation, but that was merely to think. These people are not necessarily bad, but that does not mean that he should befriend them all immediately. Besides, he wouldn't know much about that. The first step was never taught to him, and the only relationship Sabre ever had was to his wife, and she too was a slave. To speak to these people, most of which he knew they could never be slaves, was like trying to hold a conversation with an animal. They may understand you, but you wouldn't understand them. Or would it be the opposite? It didn't matter.

When the time came for them to have their first meeting, several paths were shown and explained. At the end, everyone was given a chance to speak their thoughts. Which one should they take? Which one poses the least amount of risk? Which ones would get us killed, or captured, or worse? For Sabre, he already knew his answer.

"I have no interest in voicing my opinion on these paths."

If anyone even noticed his voice, he spoke of his thought process.

"I care not for the path we take, for all bear the risk of death. We all have our reasons for joining this group, but what matters is that the Princess is safe throughout the journey. Otherwise there'd be no point."

This was by no means a show of confidence, but a simple truth Sabre had decided to share. There were plenty of dangers to be found, and the last time he had joined a group to reach a goal, many of that group had fallen or was captured. He knew that there were going to be sacrifices, and there was nothing to stop that. He knew that the only reason he decided to join was to live peacefully or die trying. Out of all the paths given, none came without risk, and the ones that seemed to have the least amount of risk to them also carry a factor of uncertainty.

"The only thing I would have to contribute is that if we reach the Free Holds, and I still live, then you may encounter some trouble there."
 
Kalemn

"The countryside's a terrifically terrible idea," Kalemn declared, hanging slightly back from the table. "The people that'll take us over the Blood Sea might have a grudge against the gods as a group, but it would only take one of them to slink off and tell someone where the rendezvous is and we're all dead before we can even step foot on the ship.

"I'm for the city or the mountains," she continued. "In the city, if the commission is ready as our cheerful Gregory says, it shouldn't matter if our mages can't use their spells. We're not looking to start a war in there. As for the mountains, we've got enough steel and magic with us to scare off anyone that might want to take a bite out of us."

Dagra

"Many of us are warriors," Dagra spoke up, looking around at the group. Her eyes lingered on a few in particular; Amerza, Rheanne, Oswald, and Hanus. "And capable ones, at that. We have talent, and we have daring. Though it seems I may be alone in this, I think we should go through the Abyss."

The half-orc cut a far different figure than the day before, wearing loose noble's clothing rather than her suit of armour. Her red hair was tied back into a series of braids, and her only piece of ornament was a simple sapphire pendant. "As Marcus said, there are thousands of orcs in the mountains, and I do not feel they will be as easily cowed as Hanus implies. Angel's will be scouring the passes, and in Rheinfield itself, though they may not be expecting us, a single mistake could bring the combined might of the angels and the templars down upon us. The Abyss is dangerous, but I feel it is consistently so. The other routes have the potential to be safer, but also the potential to be far, far worse."
 
Dean

It had thus far been a very long morning that had started so promisingly. The bed he had been provided had proven to be much more comfortable than the cold cell, and he'd felt so rested before the meeting had began. Now though he could practically feel his mind giving way to sleep once again. He broke off from a yawn and approached the table, speaking loudly enough for all those assembled to hear, but trying to direct his voice more towards the Princess. "We flirt with danger regardless of the path we take, and I agree with the dwarf; our dear Commander would not lay out a course which holds no hope of success. For me the choice is clear because ultimately there is no real choice. You say the Abyss is too dangerous? Stare down a horde of Orcs and tell me that isn't fuel for bad dreams. The Mountains would mean encountering Angels? Welcome to the War against the Gods. Unsavoury characters in the countryside or possible exposure in the Capital? We ourselves are strangers and we're trusting our lives with strangers every day from here on out so you best make peace with that whether it means trusting a few more, or knowing that if you can't use your magic I'll have your back. Princess I trust you to make the choice, and I'll be behind you regardless which one it is."
 
Kerat and Kouri - Travel Plans
A collab with @Nilum
Kerat split his attention between the planning session and picking the dirt under his fingernails. It wasn't usually his job to make decisions, and he felt hardly qualified to do so when he could hardly decipher the map on the table. With his boss being royalty, he expected a certain degree of haughtiness and imperiousness. He looked up, surprised and a little impressed, when Kouri asked for advice. “It takes a brave person to ask for advice, doubly so when they're noble, yer majesty.”

"It is not so hard for me to ask for advice, Kerat." The Princess replies honestly, as she motions to the map. "Speak your mind, but, remember that I am not the only one listening."

"Okay, well, the Abyss is out. If the dark elf says no, I think that should settle things." From what he had heard of the Abyss, it was nothing but hostility, and Kerat wasn't fond of the idea of having to fight every single person or creature that came their way, much less in the dark.

"Perhaps," Kouri replies gently. "What would you recommend, however?"

"The mountains seems doable, but I'm not a big fan of fighting my way past everything we come across, and if the 'Agents of the Gods' includes anything more than Silver Shields... well...." Kerat shrugged. "The routes through Rheinfeld look a lot better, at least to me. I may stick out there, but all I need to blend in is someone else vouching for me." He didn't look at Rheanna, but he didn't need to.

"I see." Kouri's eyes wander over the paths through Rheinfeld thoughtfully. "You were once... A mercenary, yes?"

"Still am. I worked a lot in Rheinfeld. The pirate route seems risky between trusting pirates and enemy patrols, but it also gives us a lot of flexibility. The capital route could pay out big time from the sounds of it, but I dunno much about magic, so, your call."

"I admit not being comfortable being parted from this," she raises her hand, cool air visibly left her hand, and fell toward the floor. "Still, as a mercenary, I have to ask... How likely do you think it is that either path would force us to harm innocent people?"

Kerat shrugged, "If they're waving steel at us, I hardly think they're innocent. That said, you're the boss; I ain't no crossbow that goes off half-winched." He thought a moment to consider an actual answer to her question. "If you mean templars just doin' their job, there's a lot less in the countryside, and the peasants will stay out of our way if they're smart."

"I understand. Thank you for your advice." It seemed that Kouri wanted to press on him more about his mercenary past, but kept her queries to herself--instead, focusing on the task at hand.

Kerat nodded silently, but made an effort to pay attention to the rest of the meeting, just in case the princess wanted his opinion again.
 
Cerise

With her options presented, it was an easy choice. While the Abyss would be treacherous, James expressed interest in it and it was a shorter route. Rheinfeld was out of the question. Her homeland, her craft and her blood all painted targets on not only her back but all of those around her. The one that appealed most, was the possibility of travelling by water. Not only would that allow at least some help from her home and potentially other Free Holds, but that would attract less attention from many hostile parties, at least aside from angels.

"I would vote to take the ship," Cerise spoke up, her hands resting comfortably on her hips, "Outside help is the best way to conquer a powerful foe, after all."
 
Pros and Cons - Collab between Jaquaar, Marcus, and Gregory

Jaquaar like many before him only listened and observed what the others had to say. Observation was a key part of being on the sea, and of seeking the legends of the land. If you weren’t observant, there was no telling what clues you might miss, or which landmarks might pass you by. His first observation was a simple enough one: James the Illusionist didn’t seem to give much of a toss about the authority of Gregory. He was indispensible, or at least thought himself as such. It exacerbated the Commander’s all-too-apparent distaste for the group that had been gathered to assist on the Princess’ request, a feeling he couldn’t help but feel would be inflamed by the reminder of his own existence that would inevitably come.

With the exchange between James and Gregory done, the four options were laid out; each drawing the approval and disapproval of various key figures. Hanus hated one route and liked another, while Marcus disagreed on that route and favoured a third, only for Mikan to disapprove and exalt a fourth option. The barrage of dissenting options and opinions made it difficult to think, and the Metal-mage rubbed his temples as members of the party began to voice their opinions, not least of all the Amazonian who had frequently given him the stink eye.

As the exchanges continued, waxing and waning in volume as intensities briefly flared up only to be followed by moments of calm, Jaquaar moved beside the two members of the King’s Rangers, Marcus and Gregory were imposing enough, but they had the questions he needed answering. “Do we know what the names of the Pirates that have been commissioned are? It’s not unlikely that I’ve at least heard of them and any penchant they have for back-stabbery in at least a passing mention, after all.” He looked left and then right to the likely much broader men. Smiling the same cock-sure grin he barely let leave his face.

"Pirates? Did I ever call them pirates?" Gregory replies with a raised eyebrow, seeming not to care for Jaquaar's inquiries. Marcus, on the other hand... "They're more accurately smugglers. The captain is an ex-King's Ranger, I'm not personally familiar with him, but he is the sort to have an odd sense of ethics. He'll do what we ask because he knows if he betrays us, no angel in the Heavens will spare him our wrath. He's operated out on the Blood Sea for three years and kept his name quiet..."

"Shady individuals who will work against the local lords in order to achieve a goal for profit? Sounds like we're arguing between a kettle and a pot." Jaquaar shrugged off the obvious distaste of the elderly King's Ranger, before turning to face Marcus. The tiefling was far more receptive, which was pleasant if nothing else. "Still, if you're sure I won't know of him, I won't pry further." He frowned, scratching at his facial hair before looking towards Marcus. "So how many people do we know that've actually been on a boat? I can't imagine that the Dwarf or the Amazon have their sea legs. Also don't see many people in plate mail on boats, and for good reason. A fair few of our party might have to shed a layer or two, yourself included. That is, unless we're sailing on some sort of Galleon."

"They will know what they're transporting, and will be paid well enough for it to make the space." Marcus replies bluntly to the latter half of his query. To the former half, he says nothing, but momentarily glances toward the Princess--making it clear that he had his doubts about her experience with the sea, either.

"Well, I may just be a pirate and a Free Holder..." He glanced over at Gregory, cock-sure smile still on his face even as he insulted himself. "...but I reckon that we're caught between a Spear and a Stallion at this point. No easy choices here." He shrugs, looking around the room. "At the very least, I'll be able to keep our people in plate from falling off of boats with my magics." He glances at Oswald for a moment, grimacing a little "Well...most people." He offered the Templar an apologetic smile, before turning back to Marcus. "Although the final choice of course lies with the Princess. We all have our strengths to use here."

"Indeed." Marcus replies, though with a hint of a smile across his shadowed face as he turned away from the brazier.
 
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“See to it that you do not. Hemmungtong has long missed the sounds of your screams, and I would be hard pressed not to give him what he wants if you should fail me again.”
-Typhon’s Lord, Page 1.​

Choices Made, Consequences Had

As each took their turn speaking, the Princess listened intently to each. It was clear, though, that those propositions which involved casual violence, or a disregard for the commoner, tended to sway her less than those who proposed avoiding detection altogether. As the last of them speak, she quietly sighs and looks across the paths once more. “I think it is overwhelmingly clear which path the majority wish me to take... I cannot help but agree. We will take the village path. Gregory, alert your contacts, and set things in motion. We shall head out at noon, and cover as much ground as we can in an afternoon.” Hanus looks somewhat uncomfortable by the notion of moving out in broad daylight, but nods in agreement nonetheless.

Mikan, on the other hand, furrows her eyebrows in irritation. “I’ll be in the stables if anyone needs me.” She leaves the room quickly, clearly disappointed that her motion was the one that lost. For the observant, she had pulled something out of her right pocket—a small religious icon. Before any could discern details from it, however, she had already left the room, her footsteps leaving little in the way of sound.

Marcus nods in agreement and glances over the group before them. “A logical choice. I will see you all in three hours.” He, too, leaves the room—though with a satisfactory smile on his face, and likely with the intent to ready supplies and get everyone ready to move.

Before anyone else can leave the room, Kouri looks at Sabre, and Dean. “You two—Sabre, Dean—stay. I would like to speak with each of you, one at a time. The rest of you may wish to prepare for the journey ahead.”

Safety’s Harbour; No Longer

Three hours had passed since the morning meeting. It was now noon, the sun hung high in the sky, though none would be able to see it in the underground stables. Kouri quietly enters, and finds that the horses had all been prepared. Some carried supplies with them, others did not. In a simple supply bag, Kouri carried her remaining belongings. Save, for the royal blade—that hung at her waist. She had changed into something more fitting for riding—her dress had been replaced with a simple pair of tan-coloured pants, and a white cloth shirt. Try though she may to wear the clothes of a commoner, her unerring and unnatural beauty shined on through it nonetheless.

Without a word, she walks toward a brown coloured horse. Marcus steps over to stop her, but, the horse simply bows his head, and the Princess gently caresses his neck. The King’s Ranger speaks, with a somewhat confused look on his face. “That is one our most stubborn horses, my lady. How did you?...” Kouri smiles softly, and looks at Marcus eye to eye. He stands, a bit stunned, before clearing his throat and looking away. “Right... I apologize for asking, Princess. I sometimes forget that the legends which spoke of your beauty did not mention that it was... More than natural.” Kouri doesn’t reply. She instead swings herself atop the horse, and pats his neck. Finally, she speaks. “What is our plan?”

Marcus glances around at the group in the stable. As he does, he speaks—quietly. “We travel with many companions. It would be advantageous to create a scouting party—no more than five. I will leave you to choose such things yourself. If you need my advice, however, I will be over there, preparing my horse. If you will excuse me, my lady.” With that said, Marcus departs, and leaves Kouri to ponder over her choices.

Mikan, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain control over her horse. She was clearly a novice rider at best, and though she had been practising for a couple of hours, she was still unused to using the reigns. A stream of curses is uttered by her in Rheinfelder, each and every time the horse bumps her against something, or someone.

Hanus, on the other hand, had an easy time with his mount—a large lizard, almost the size of two horses. He whispers to it in his native language, and hops onto its back. The lizard responses with a coo, and looks around with its two eyes on the sides of its head, taking in the environment, though it seemed to stare longingly toward the ceiling more often than not.

Finally, James was in the room, with Beatrice obediently on his shoulder. This time he had arrived before most of the others, almost as if to prove a point. He was atop a horse, which seemed almost unsettled by his mere presence, but which obeyed his every command without question. “Right then. We have enough supplies to easily last us to the ship, we have weapons, we have disguise supplies... All we need now are orders. We’re going on a trip, Beatrice. Try to be nice.” Beatrice caws into James’s ear, making him flinch in surprise before chuckling and adjusting himself on his saddle.
 
All the Pretty Horses
Collab between Sisera & Marcus (@Nilium)

Sisera paid Marcus no mind as he hobbled into the stable with his walking stick towards his horse, a brown and white paint. It whinnied at him briefly before Sisera grabbed its muzzle and shooed it quietly, lightly kissing the tip of it’s nose before looking deep into its brown eyes. their natural, primal liveliness contrasted with Sisera’s own dulled brown eyes as he opened the gate and led it out towards the middle of the stable, where he grabbed a brush and began to prepare it for the saddle. He didn’t bother tying up the horse to the wooden post, he knew it would stay calm and behave in his presence.

“Though the village is our best option” he said to Marcus, most of his face still obscured by his hood and robe, “we are still walking into a lion’s den.” He reached over and brushed deeply into the horse’s neck, a plume of dust and dirt scatters into the air. He grabs the large thick blanket and heaves on top of the beast’s back. “Chances are we’ll have to eliminate a few of the cubs so they don’t awaken the lion.” With a playful scratch at the horse’s mane, he slowly walks past Marcus to the saddle hanging on the wall besides him and without so much as a grunt heaves up the heavy item onto his shoulder and limps back to the horse and thrusts the saddle upon the horse, it didn’t even twitch as Sisera began to buckle the saddle in.

“Are you prepared to do such things to protect your Queen, King’s Ranger?”

"You speak of death so lightly." Marcus retorts bluntly, as he swings himself up onto the saddle of his horse. He checks that the beast is not in active pain, then convinces her to move, slowly, so he could be a few feet from Sisera. "I am willing to kill. The only question is whether you still have enough of a mind to know who to kill."

“I’ve been surrounded by death in my later years. So forgive me if I’m too macabre for your tastes” Sisera responded in a candid, almost patronizing tone as he finished off the last belt buckle of the saddle before climbing on. His spryness giving away the fact that his limp was just an act, another facade he put on. He scratched his horse’s ear before turning his attention back to Marcus.

“Those who threaten the life of Kouri, die.” he stately coldly, as if it was nothing more than one of the natural laws of the universe “the only exception being if she is merciful enough to spare such wretched lives, which for better or worse, she will be inclined to do.” He clicks his heels against his horse and makes in move slowly around in a circle before stopping side by side with Marcus’s horse. Sisera’s dull, brown eyes looking directly into Marcus’s red eyes, though Marcus could see a hint of a grin forming on Sisera’s otherwise plain face. Though not in a condescending manner, but in an act of somewhat genuine friendliness.

“Luckily you Rangers still seem to have your wits about you after a thousand years. So it’ll be so nice to have you help an old, decrepit, useless man like me if I get confused about who is friend and foe.” The sarcasm was surprising coming from Sisera, and it was as thick as plate armor. He clicked his heels once again and made his horse move towards the stables entrance, looking back at Marcus to see if he would join him.

“Likewise, those who protect the life of our Queen, those who will die on her command without hesitation for their own lives, those people I must safeguard and cherish.” He spoke softly, like a brief rustle in the wind.

“Those were my duties once, long ago” he said quietly as his horse began to walk out into the open sunlight.

Marcus simply glares at him as he marches out. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade. "Oh, yes. Truly. You are a useless old man, right..." His voice turns to a muttered whisper, to himself. "You are fooling nobody."
 
Jaquaar and Marcus - Snowflakes and Sermons
(feat. @Nilum as Marcus)
With the decision made, and with the path chosen, Jaquaar found his smile reinvigorate and cement itself on his features. There was something pleasant about being on the winning side, and he was going to be most useful on this path. While it was a shame he didn’t exactly play the charismatic smooth talker in these particular negotiations, he didn’t mind too much. He’d get his time to shine, they all would sooner or later. He glanced over his shoulder at Sabre and Dean, left alone with the Princess briefly. Had those two shone early on and caught the Princess’ eye? He did not have much to say to the grumpy Free Holder, but the other one would be worth talking to, if only to see how bright he could be.
Someone who was starting to seem worth his weight in gold though was Marcus. The man seemed knowledgeable, he looked fearsome, and he didn’t care about Jaquaar’s heritage, or profession, or whatever it was that made Gregory take an instant disliking for the handsome Free Holder. Choosing to follow him, he eventually managed to catch up with the Devil-touched man in the Training Hall, gathering up tools of practice and training. “So, does your boss take an instant dislike to everyone trying to help him on his heretical missions to uproot the Gods and bring about the renaissance of a dead kingdom, or am I just special?”

"Special, obviously." Marcus tests the weight of a dulled training blade. He takes a swing with it, one solid swing, that cuts through the air. He shrugs and packs it away, as though finding it mediocre, but passable enough. "I believe that he said something about... Snowflakes, melting in the heat of combat?" The sarcasm in his voice was thick, and only stopped when he turned to finally face the man speaking to him. "Gregory dislikes having his authority questioned. The Princess has done nothing but question his authority. Put two and two together."

Watching the display with a muted amusement, Jaquaar notices the thickly laden sarcasm and the swinging of the blade and decides to get a bit jovial. Looking at a few of the currently untested blades, he extends a few fingers and lifts three blades into the air, watching them sway as if in the hands of a trio of invisible swordsmen. Then, with a flourish, the three blades float higher into the air and twirl in unison, dancing centimeters from each other before suddenly stopping just before a violent clash. "A good thing I'm no ordinary snowflake. What with the hot desert, and the life of crime and violence, and that awful salt-sea air. I'd have lost all my unique charm." Smirking to himself, he lowered the swords to the man, offering him a choice of hilt to measure next. "Still, did he not expect a legacy started upon defying Gods and Archangels to start with not listening to his every word? Seems like a man begging for rain, only to get mad at it dampening his boots."

Glancing across the various hilts, with some measure of amusement, Marcus grabs one of the blades out of the air and looks it over. He raises an eyebrow, and nods in appreciation at the talent. "Neat trick," he mutters under his breath. He then quietly gives it a couple of test swings, and tosses it aside--grabbing one of the other blades out of the air. Apparently, it was not up to the standards Marcus was looking for. Nonetheless, he speaks further, after the metal clanging to the floor loudly stops echoing through the empty chamber they stood in. "Gregory is an old man, set in his ways. He was to live and die as another master of the King's Rangers, and now instead, his entire reputation, his entire life, is predicated upon whether or not he can save one girl's life. You may not understand, but try to--he is not an evil man, just one who sincerely hopes that he will be able to help the woman whose life he swore to protect. A woman he would gladly give his life for, if not for the fact that he is too old to carry a blade like he used to--he is a liability at his age. So all he can do is watch... Almost, helplessly, at that."

He lowers the point of the blade he is holding to the ground, and taps it on the ground. "He is much like a father to me. To many of us. Harsh, but fair. Hopefully, you will live long enough to see that... Snowflake."

Jaquaar listens as Marcus talks, nodding along at the right moments and yet also replacing the discarded blade with another untested sword, hovering it in presentation to the Devil-born as he thought back to his own father. "I hardly hate the man. He has allowed me this opportunity, has he not? If not for the King's Rangers reaching out to me, I'd still be scouring the land for legends and relics for my purpose. This...well, not this..." as if to punctuate his point, all three pre-offered blades wiggle and squirm like misbehaving children. "...but what we are doing...It is worth doing." He shrugs, before looking back at Marcus. "Although we are going to have to work on better nicknames, if we are to become friends. Snowflake is cute and all, but think of the scandal. You, a veteran King's Ranger, the...Me, probably top five on the ranks of handsome men in our party...It would break hearts."

Marcus scoffs at the notion of being handsome, and quietly nods at the blade in his hand. It was sufficient, and he goes to pack it away--he only needed three dulled blades, and he had acquired his three dulled blades. "I'm thinking your eyes wander not not for men, but toward legends in the flesh, Snowflake."

There was a moment of pause where Jaquaar had thought he'd gotten a small victory in his teasing flirt, and yet Marcus offered a most pointed riposte. Jaquaar felt his concentration falter as he dropped two of the blunted swords, retaining control over the third as he found himself openly laughing. "It matters little where my eyes wander. We are worlds apart, and she will have suitors by the hundreds if we survive this. Besides, a snowflake is hardly befitting an Ice mage, wouldn't you agree?" He smirked as he brought the blunted training sword over to himself, feeling the weight in his actual hand as he pondered the future with a dulled but ever-present smile. His grip was journeyman at best, but it was hardly his first time holding a sword. "Would Gregory mind if I borrowed this? I might need to practice more mundane ways of swinging swords in the future, and I wouldn't want to steal from your collection."

Marcus glances back over his shoulder at Jaquaar. He grabs one of his training blade by the midsection, and then tosses it in the air and grabs it by the hilt. "You could try. You would find I'm far more savvy to your tricks than you realize." He motions Jaquaar over closer to the smokeless brazier, and then motions to his blade. "Show me what you know."

Jaquaar laughs at the retort, but lets the second statement sink in. It would be very easy to make his excuses and leave, but what would he gain there? Shrugging, he walked towards the brazier with a slower intensity, raising the point of the sword up and lowering his over all stance. He remembered the old drills his father had instructed him on, the drills of guardsmen mostly, but they still served him well enough. "So...uh. Here I go?" Truth be told, it had been a while since he'd sparred with someone, let alone someone competent. The temptation to fall back upon his talents was there of course, but he doubted the stern man would appreciate it. Instead, he took half a step to close the distance between them before he took a swing, trying to recall the key points of the drills: Don't waste motion, don't over-exert yourself, and don't leave yourself exposed to an easy counter attack.

Marcus raises his blade and takes a step to the side, letting Jaquaar swing and merely using his own blade to redirect the force of the strike toward the ground. He then lifts his blade in the same motion, pointing the tip toward Jaquaar's neck. It had started and ended in seconds. "... Not bad, but you swing like militia. Don't just consider where your blade is going, think of where mine will be."

He lowers his blade. "And understand, that even with that rudimentary swing, you know more of blades and real battle than she does. She had many suitors, and in the end, she turned them all down. Status means little to her." He turns to put away his training blade, saying nothing more, and leaving Jaquaar free to do as he wished.

Jaquaar felt the clash and the unmentioned strength of the tiefling's arm. He had no idea how easy it would be for Marcus to outmuscle him, but he didn't imagine it would be hard. The message was understood though, and he rolled his eyes, smiling. "We shall have to do this again sometime. I might even bring drink next time." Jaquaar shouted out towards Marcus, despite his rapid exeunt. He let his hands rest against his hips as he nodded absently at the man, before realising he was just standing in the middle of a training hall, alone as a loon. "Well, best go pack my things."

Marcus replies with nothing, simply allowing Jaquaar to wallow in his own awkward moments. Perhaps it amused him, or perhaps he was busy with equipment. There was no telling, now.
 
Free Holders Holding Back
A collab with @Otomos the Crazy

As everyone left the meeting chamber, Kerat lingered by the entrance, leaning against the wall. Too far away to eavesdrop on the Princess' conversations, it was clear he was waiting for someone. That someone was Sabre. Once his conversation with the princess was finished, he lurched away from the wall and waited for the Free-Holder to approach. “So, what's a spellfencer?” He asked bluntly.

The question was abrupt, and simple. Simple questions are not unfamiliar to the ex-slave, but the way it was asked was definitely foreign to him. A blunt, casual tone for such a question was a first, as others were either grave or expectant in their way of asking.

"Someone who knows how to fight with a weapon, and enchants that weapon in order to perform different tasks."

Sabre spoke indifferently. He was not used to explaining what Spellfencer was, since none really cared much to ask. So it was likely that his explanation was not enough to fully explain it. Still, Sabre thought that it was enough to give an idea.

"Hm. What kind of tasks? Can you make your sword fly or somethin'?"

"No", replied Sabre. "I can set it ablaze without damaging the blade, or give it the ability to freeze whatever it cuts."

Sabre unsheathed his weapon, and and slid the sharp edge across the top of his forearm. He gave a small grunt, for the self-inflicted wound stung as he did so. He then placed his hand on the flat of the saber, and enchanted it with soft healing magic. He placed the blade to his wound, and showed it to Kerat. The cut closed, and healed to the point that all Sabre had to do was wipe off the blood to reveal no wound.

"I can also enchant it to heal what it touches, as well."

Kerat watched closely as Sabre cut his arm and healed it. "Fancy, though you might wanna stay away from any Templars for a few weeks, or that'll open right up again. So where'd you learn to fight?"

"The Free Holds."

Specifically, in an arena. A slave of his kind was meant to kill and die in the arena for the entertainment of others. That, however was not what Kerat had asked for, regardless of what he meant. As long as they were talking to each other, Sabre had decided that he might as well ask a few questions of his own.

"If we are to travel together, I must ask what you are able to do. It makes it easier to stay out of each other's way."

Kerat rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Lookin' for a spar? We'd best make it quick."

Sabre looked at his blade, and back at the orc. The enchantment hadn't dissipated, which was understandable. It was fresh and new. It would work well for a training weapon, but Sabre wasn't trying to train. He wished to see how his allies fought so that he didn't get in the way if conflict arrives. The ex-slave got into a basic stance, and said,

"I simply wish to see your strengths. I request that you try not to actually hit me."

Walking over to a rack of training weapons, Kerat set down his club and selected a training sword. "No guarantees. I'm not that good at holding back. Just be glad I'm not using Pestle." He took a stance, raising his shield, then lunged forward, hoping to knock Sabre over with a shield bash before moving in with his sword.

Sabre hopped to the side and avoided the bash. He kept a passive expression, as he was attempting to observe. The lunge was a bit too straightforward. At least in this particular situation. Facing a group with a group, the chaos of the battle would scatter the enemy's attention, and the charge would more likely have connected. This, however was more akin to a duel, and starting a duel with a running bash would only leave you open if you miss.

This was an example. The moment he dodged the orc's lunging shield bash, he could have swung to cut his back, or thrust in an attempt to inpale him.

Sabre's speed caused Kerat to scowl. He shifted back defensively once he realized Sabre was dancing around him. "I get it, you think you're better than me, huh?" He jeered. "Come at me, show me what you really got."

"No."

Sabre took note of the orc's short temper. It was something to look out for in the future. A wild fighter is still a powerful one, and should never be underestimated. With that said, he'd be overwhelmed in a duel, or a skilled opponent focusing on him. It was not Sabre's place to tutor the orc. Besides, the scars are all the proof that he had gone through much and survived. Whether it's due to luck or quick thinking, the truth was that the orc was alive.

"I am witnessing how you fight."

Kerat furrowed his brow in confusion, then in disgust. "No. I'm done." He straightened up and walked back to the weapon rack to return his sword.

"If that is what you want, then it shall be."

The saber still had the glow of enchantment, but the soft light was hidden as Sabre sheathed the blade.

"Thank you. I now have an idea of what to do when in fighting alongside you."

"Whatever." Kerat picked up Pestle and left the hall, smoldering. He murmured under his breath, "...arrogant prick."
 
Answers Lead to More Questions
(A Collaboration between @Nilum and Otomos the Crazy)​

Kouri motions for Sabre to approach. Outside of a pair of King's Rangers guards nearby, they were essentially alone.

"What did you mean by your comment on the Free Holds, and you?"

Sabre walked forward. His expression was plain, but honest. The Princess' question was definitely something that he had expected, though he had thought that others would also share in that curiosity. It was...strange to see that no one else had wondered what Kouri was wondering. They may have simply ignored him, though. Either way, he was prepared with an answer. If this Princess was to bring about some sort of miracle land, then he saw no reason to lie. He did, however wish to see what she knew about this world she was to travel within.

"When you look at me, what is it that you see? What kind of person do you think I am?"

The flames of the brazier seem to shrink away a little from the Princess. Sabre could feel a little magic in the air, and his eyes would be drawn toward the sight of the edge of the brazier--something which she was holding, which by all rights should be hot, which was instead coated in frost. A few moments of silence follow, before she quietly releases the metal from her grasp.

"I think you are alone."

She stands straight, though doesn't yet turn to face him.

"I also think you are a man of great sorrow, to think that merely existing somewhere would warrant your capture, or demise."

Though Sabre was good at hiding his feelings, his eyes betrayed him. Within them was surprise. He had not expected to have been seen through so easily. Still, though her words were true, they are not the entirety.

"You are correct, Princess. What you think of me is true...but what your thoughts are incomplete. I am...I was once a slave. I escaped, and I've no doubt that the ones who chased me would recognize me. Should that happen, they will attempt to either capture or kill me, and if I am still with you all, then they would become yet another obstacle."

"A slave, huh? The Free Holds really have not changed much since my time," she replies simply.

Looking over toward Sabre, it was clear that she appeared to sympathize with him--even if she did not have the life experience to understand what he must have gone through.

"You need not worry. I will not let it happen again. So long as you travel with me, you will be free."

Sabre was made of such, earlier. This princess was said to be destined to perform some kind of miracles. Still...

"I did not speak out of fear for that. I spoke so that everyone would take it as a warning. There are those who would seek me out, and if they find me, they will only hinder your group."

"I face far greater threats than angry, greedy men."

Though she was trying to reassure him, it seemed she was underestimating the threat.

"I have consumed enough of your time, I think. If you wish to ask me a question now, go ahead."

Sabre had some doubts, but the ex-slave supposed that it was for the best that she had confidence for now. Still, he only had one last question for her.

"If I were to die along the way, then would you remember me?"

Ordinarily, perhaps, the princess might reply with a smile. Instead, the tone of her voice gross quiet and reserved, her bright blue eyes fall down toward the flames of the brazier.

"I remember every face and every voice of every person who has paid the price for my failures. I would remember you, as I remember all of them."

Where most would be disturbed, Kouri simply stood still and showed nothing of how she felt, beyond perhaps a hint of discomfort, and something else...

Sabre's expression was unchanged. The Princess had answered his question, and he only had one thing left to ask of her for this moment.

"If you would grant me one thing. Then I would ask that you forget me when I die."

Sabre tilted his head to bow, and turned to leave. He had taken up enough of her time, and preparations needed to be made.

Kouri opens her mouth to speak, only to hesitate, and watch him leave. There was remorse in her eyes, and pity, but little more as she turns back to face the brazier for a while longer before preparing to leave herself.
 
Green and Red Make a Terrible Banner
A collab between Grothnor and glmstr​

They better not have touched anything.

The ebonhold heiress was slower than others to reach the stables, largely due to what seemed to be an inability to hurry when going anywhere. Though, as today was of some import, she was slightly less sluggish than normal. Even at first glance, it looked like the stable-workers followed her request for the most part, all of her possessions were still neatly packed the way she wanted them. Most importantly, a pike remained by the stable, unsullied, with the Ebonhold standard neatly folded beside it.

She smiled briefly and unfolded the flag, attaching it to its pike before starting to pack her things and put them onto her personal horse.

The banner caught Kerat’s gaze, stirring his memory. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place where any more specifically than the Free Holds. He got up from where he was sitting while waiting for everyone else to finish preparing to examine it closer.

Cerise could see and hear the orc (and smell him, at that rate) approach, as it was hard not to. The demon-touched expected at least a few looks at so brazenly displaying a Free Hold’s banner, especially one that, while all holds had some variety of controversy surrounding them, theirs was of another nature entirely.

“What Hold is this?” Kerat eventually asked. He was largely unfamiliar with Free-Hold Heraldry, especially considering he hadn’t been back in several years. A lot could change, and holds could change leader, and their names and heraldry, in the blink of an eye.

“Eh?” She turned towards Kerat, then followed his gaze to the banner. “Ebonhold. Eastern hold, between the mountains and the sea,” a well-rehearsed answer for those outside of court, to invite as little suspicion as possible. Better for the common folk to assume she was simply an outlier in the family, rather than the norm.

Kerat recognized the name, looked at the demon-touched and chuckled to himself. “Well, I guess the world can be a pretty small place. I think we fought each other before.”

“You may have,” She raised an eyebrow, “What conflict was it, by chance? We’ve sent our armies against mercenary bands occasionally, though usually for a good reason.”

“Heh, yeah. My group, Kinelroy’s Company, we were hired to raid and pillage the border of ‘Demon-Hold’. We sacked some town and were set on hitting another before your riders caught us with our pants down and routed us at Robert’s Pass. We regrouped to fight back, but the rest of your forces showed, and dogged us all the way out.”

Cerise fumbled over the thought, though eventually did nod and look back to Kerat. “Ah yes, I remember having to listen to the reports of the damage. A few of the chambermaids were from there, they were devastated at the news. I’d have led that cavalry myself, but I had something else scheduled or some such.” She inspected her fingernails, “I believe we ended up giving the heads of their leaders to our bereaved peasants, that always was our tradition,” she spoke almost dismissively at the idea.

“Well, not all of them. Kinelroy escaped, though I think you got his brother.” He gave a small chuckle. “Taught us not trifle with ‘Demon-Hold’ again, that’s for sure. We just went back, collected half pay for a job half done and left the area, I think.”

“I’m curious,” the princess examined the orc more closely, “What brought you to associate with those brutes? You yourself don’t seem so, well, barbaric.” She had two main suspicions, but both would be rude to simply assume of somebody, so she held her tongue.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice. At least Kinelroy let me earn my freedom. Not many others would’ve let me go so easily. He taught me everything I know about being a mercenary: he told me what to do and showed me what not to do.” He sniffed in amusement, “Like not to attack ‘Demo-’, I mean, Ebonhold.”

Cerise chuckled at Kerat’s use of the nickname, though otherwise she nodded along with his explanation politely. It disappointed her, but was no surprise. Many mercenary bands turned to hiring slaves to bolster their numbers. Apparently, there weren’t enough young ones thirsting for gold to fill the ranks.

“Clearly he could have been better, if he made the decision to attack my lands,” the demon-touched grinned, “there are so many others that don’t, er, thrive on war as much as we do.”

“I guess.” He thought for a moment, “Kinelroy did always say being a mercenary was kinda like gambling.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I just follow the purse-strings.”

“In a way I suppose it is,” the noble shrugged and continued to pack up her things, finally dismantling her banner from the pike and rolling it to place it in her saddlebag. “Such gambling is ill-advised for someone of my birth, but alas, I’m not the firstborn, so it isn’t yet my problem.”

“After all, when the stakes are thousands of men, women and children seeking your protection, gambling is not a wise choice.”

“Yeah.” Kerat wasn’t listening. When Cerise turned away to pack her belongings, Kerat took the opportunity to run his eyes across her and apparently forgot to stop when she turned back.

The demon-touched smirked when she faced Kerat again and caught him eyeing her form. “I’d be lying if I was surprised, or offended for that matter.”

Kerat put on a shit-eating grin, “Yeah well… good thing you weren’t leading the troops at Robert’s Pass, or, uh…” His eyes left her face again momentarily to illustrate his point, “...I might’ve been too distracted to fight back.”

Cerise’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head. “I’ve heard that one more than a few times. Too bad I should not strike you for it,” her tone was more amused than annoyed, “as you are neither a subordinate nor a foe.”

“What can I say?” Kerat shrugged unapologetically, “I like what I see. Question is: if I’m not a subordinate or a foe, what do you say I am?” He asked suggestively.

“At the moment, you’re someone to stand behind if archers are firing,” the demoness shrugged noncommittally. The hulking green mass of flesh would be good for a meat shield, at the very least, and he was friendly. Not much more she could necessarily ask for.

Kerat laughed, “Fair enough, fair enough. I’ll leave you to your packing then.”
 
Loyalty

Though she stood by the brazier with a small smile, within the Princess's eyes reflected more confusion than anything else. She turns and looks to Dean, and motions him closer. Once he's within a comfortable distance, she speaks. The hint of confusion in her eyes is immediately reflected in her tone. "Why do you trust me so? We have barely met, Dean."

Looking at the Princess as the fire played across her face, Dean saw the hint of confusion upon it. However he could do little else than smile and shrug, finding her question more humorous than anything. "You're right. We've barely met and yet you trust me enough to have me join you on this life or death mission. So why is that?" He thought for a second he was too close to the Princess, and took a small step back before leaning against a wall appearing as relaxed as he could manage "I see it more as an exchange of faith than I do as me trusting you too much. As I said, we all have to trust each other if there's any hope of success."

"We do." The Princess replies, looking somewhat intrigued and surprised by Dean's clever response. "Why, indeed?... I suppose I can tell you. Do you know of a woman, named Amanda?"

With a small sigh of relief Dean managed to avoid interruping Kouri after she asked a rhetoric question, but couldn't conceal a playful chuckle as she earnestly asked if he knew a specific woman. "I'll have to plead ignorance to that. I might have a known an Amanda or two, but to think we know the same woman is crazy... isn't it?" He might have had more to say, but it seemed indelicate to bring up her thousand year slumber so soon after awaking from it and something in the way she spoke made him believe there was more to the subject.

"Amanda the Archmage," Kouri retorted, the corners of her lips lifting a little with the amusement she felt, though rapidly falling back to her more politically neutral look soon enough. She continues speaking, with a reserved tone. "Amanda is someone I once knew. She is far older than I am, though. Far older than even my Kingdom was, I think. When I awoke, she came to see me and asked if she could give me counsel, along with Gregory. She spoke of timelines, of visions, and other such things that she has been blessed with, and has been using to keep herself alive throughout all of these years. You weren't picked randomly, Dean. Nobody was." Kouri sits down beside the brazier as it starts to crackle back to its full life. She looks down at the floor. "It is... Complicated to explain. Call it the machinations of Fate and Destiny, if you will. There are other timelines. Some where I succeed, some where I fail. Amanda gets to see pieces of these... And she tried to help me find the people who helped me to succeed in the timelines where I am alive, and well, and avoid the ones where I grow ill, and die. The King's Rangers went out in search of each of you, to find you for this purpose... In the hopes of, perhaps, rigging the odds to make this timeline go well, sort to speak... Am I confusing you?"

His mind buzzed as Kouri spoke; thoughts flying through his mind at top speed questions of what led to his arrival to that inn popped into his mind one moment, only to be replaced with equally good questions concerning his role to come. The Princess finished speaking and a silence gripped the conversation while Dean composed himself, ending with him audibly clearing his throat. "Well..." he began with a deeply thoughtful scratch of his chin. "Yes and no. I'd say some of the finer parts might have me stumped, and if I can ever put those parts into a neat question I assure you I will ask." With his hand now rubbing the back of his neck Dean offered an apologetic smile and a nervous laugh. "For now though? Well I suppose if it was fated for me to be here then I might as well make the most of it. Some things are unavoidable, right?"

"I guess so, Dean." Kouri smiles softly and remains sitting by the brazier, letting both light and shadow flicker across her with each crackle from the flames beside her. "I suppose I may have answered my own question... Is there anything you may wish to ask me?"

"Well glad I could assist... if I did at all." He joked. "As far as questions I have for you? Well who wouldn't have endless questions for you, but dredging through your life story is doubtlessly not what you had in mind." Looking directly into the brazier to watch the flames dance Dean felt a calm sensation rush over him, and he sighed lightly. "So for now I'm content to know there may be some purpose as to why I'm here, but if you have any more for me I think we may still have time before we depart."

"I do not think so. Not at this time." Kouri slowly stands up, and brushes off the dust now on her dress.

"Right then..." he said timidly while pointing over his shoulder "Then if that's all I should probably go and get ready to leave." He watched her rise from her seat watching her hands as they brushed the dust from her dress, his eyes lingered on her figure, and he suddenly felt very nervous. He coughed to bring himself back to focus, and purposefully looked anywhere in the room but Kouri. "But if you ever need to... O-or want to talk again I'll be around... Obviously." He finished with as innocent a grin as he could.

A Simple Request

As his meeting with Kouri came to a close Dean saw little else to be done but prepare for the trio ahead. However after entering the stable and preparing his horse, Dean was at a loss for what to do next. Spotting the mountainous tiefling Marcus an idea sprang to his mind. Marcus, a moment if you have one to spare?"

Marcus was already seated upon his horse, though he stops to look down at Dean. "We do not have long to chat, but go ahead."

"That works well enough for me, since you suggested this route I thought you'd be the one to ask where I should position myself for travel."

Marcus takes a single look over Dean, and quirks an eyebrow. He appears to ponder it for longer than was necessary, and then replies, bluntly. "In the rear guard."

"... Fair." Was the only word Dean could gather as he nodded his head in acceptance. Despite having his question answered Dean lingered beside Marcus with still more to say, but unsure how to approach the topic. "Uh, Marcus? One other thing if you don't mind?"

"Ask." Marcus states, though he does finally look at Dean in a more respectful way--giving him his full attention rather than partial attention.

Asking for help was not a strong suit of Dean's, it never had been as far back as he could remember, but then he also couldn't think of a time when he had been in a situation so beyond his ken. Knowing this he summoned all the courage he could and locked his knees in an attempt to steel his focus. "I tested myself against the Rangers last night, I feel I performed well..." he said recalling the bouts he had won. "But not nearly as well as I would have liked." His hand rose to his jaw this time, remembering a particularly harsh crack he'd received from a female Ranger, the very same one that had apprehended him. "What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that I don't intend to be a burden on this journey. I want to do better, and to be better. I hoped you could help."

Marcus nods, though in his eyes is curiosity and a certain, odd sort of contentment. He replies, quietly. "When it is possible, I will train you. Is there anything else you need?"

"Nothing more for now. I'll check in with you when we stop for the night then." He finished simply.
 
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Kalemn, Tahlia & Faolan
Herder of Two Wolves
A collab between @HerziQuerzi and @Holmishire.

With the princess sending them out of the meeting room so as to speak to a select few in private, Faolan took interest in one particularly rough member of their fledgling group. The dire wolf sniffed Kalemn up and down, before wrinkling his nose in mock distaste.

"It's not as if you smell any better," Kalemn said in response to the wolf's display, edging away.

Tahlia was not far behind, and smiled at the woman. "Making friends?"

"Depends," Kalemn said, "is your dog more or less likely to bite my hand off if I hold it out for a sniff?"

Tahlia scrunched her brows together and looked down at Faolan, as if to give the question serious thought. "I'd say your chances are roughly equal." Her eyes flicked back up to Kalemn's and winked. "More if you keep referring to him as a dog. His name's Faolan, and he's just... assessing you."

"Smart dog." Kalemn shrugged, "so, what are you being brought along for? Not seeing any blades or such, so I'm guessing magic. Fire? Ice? Sending whispers into people's ears?"

"I do have a sword, I merely lack the skill to use it." She brushed off her robes, drawing attention to the plainness of her garb. "I am a druid of Kiune's circle, one who communes with nature, and with spirits. It's hard to say if such talents will be useful in the journey ahead but… There were other reasons to send me along."

Kalemn raised an amused brow, burn scars shifting. "Why is everyone acting so mysterious and ominous? No one's even being subtle about it. I'll bite the bait this time around, but eventually people should either start playing things straight or stop loudly hinting at it." Grinning, she leaned against the stone wall, "so what 'other reasons' would those be?"

Tahlia frowned. "It's not ominous, it's personal. Out here, there is little chance of me being able to cure him," she said, nodding at Faolan. "By sending me away, Kiune gave me at least a chance at finding something or someone who can help." She then returned the grin. "But mysterious or not, at least I'm willing to give answers. The scars you wear tell a story with far more breadth than anything that's left your lips so far."

Kalemn waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing special. Some bastard stuck a torch in my face. It's something that happens when you do a killing to make a living. No worries, I wasn't a looker even when I had the skin of a newborn babe. Not like many of our companions." Kalemn laughed, "I've been in a sad number of brothels with less attractive faces than what we have on display."

Faolan shrugged in a 'can't say I disagree' manner. Tahlia chose to ignore the gesture.

"Prostitution attracts the unattractive because they lack self-esteem." She took on a somewhat critical look, motioning towards where they had just discussed their plans. "That room was not lacking in ego. There are few types of people willing to take on a task such as this, prime among them those proud enough to think they stand a chance against Gods—" Here she took on a more sombre disposition. "—and those naïve enough to think the cause is worth the sacrifice."

"And where would I fall into that?"

Tahlia pauses. "A little bit of both. I take you for someone who is tired of fighting with nothing more than their life on the line."

"Close enough," Kalemn said, scratching at her face. "More I'm tired of struggling to keep living in dirt. Get glory or find fortune, that's what I'm here for. Makes me think you're missing a group: those who ride the causes of others as a means to their own end." Kalemn shrugged, "At the very least, it seems to fit the two of us well enough."

"I did say few, not two." Tahlia's smile returned, but it lacked the mirth from before. "I do hope you find your glory—Gods know we have little else to look forward to even if we succeed." She leaned in close, as if in mock confidentiality—but from the tone of her voice and the weary look in her eyes, it was clear that she spoke genuinely. "But please, don't speak of that to the younglings. I'd like to keep spirits high, for as long as I can."

The bandit laughed. "Gods, best of luck with that." She flicked the little finger of her right glove, highlighting the missing digit. "I'd need more fingers than this to count how many are likely to break the moment someone dies."

Faolan's snort of amusement was cut short by a Tahlia bumping him in the side with her hips—it wasn't a particularly forceful blow considering her stature, but it did leave him momentarily off balance. He stuck the tip of his tongue out at her but she pretended not to notice, instead widening her smile at Kalemn. "Then I'll just need to make sure no-one dies," she chirped. "Though it seems like you've done a good enough job keeping yourself in one... alive, so that's one less person I need worry about."

"Smoothly said," Kalemn said, smirking. "That silver tongue of yours will surely be up to the task."

Tahlia shrugged. "Your language is far more flexible than mine; it makes it much easier to say that which is not intended." She glanced around at the now rapidly emptying hallway; something she had just remembered left her a little distracted. "You'll have to excuse me, there is someone who might be in need of a little silver in their ear. It was nice talking to you," she finished, glancing back at Kalemn earnestly before darting off down the hall.

Faolan lagged behind, watching the scarred woman intently for a few moments more now that they were alone. With a final wink, he then lumbered off down the hall himself, though not following the same path Tahlia had taken.
 
Sisera & Tahlia
Surface Wounds
A collab between @Slade and @Holmishire.

As she walked down the hall, thoughts meandering as she did, Tahlia felt fresh and ready to go. Though she knew the journey to be of greater importance than merely she, Tahlia felt glad that they would be passing through Rheinfeld's countryside—her home. She smiled, and scratched Faolan's head idly with her left hand.

When she drew her hand back, she was unpleasantly surprised to find a new layer of grit in her nails. "I thought I told you to take a bath yesterday."

Faolan shrugged.

With a laborious sigh, she turned tail and led the wolf towards the bathing chambers, intent on getting him clean at least once, seeing as they'd be on the road for a long time following. She pushed aside the cloth 'door' to one of the bathing chambers in order to let Faolan in, but as she did movement caught the corner of her eye and she couldn't help but lift her gaze to see its source. To her surprise, she saw Sisera at the edge of the bath, donning his robes.

Sisera shivered as the water from the rag ran down his bare and slithered down the rough, leathery, black and red skin that was his back. They would be on horseback for quite some time, who knew when he would next have an opportunity to bathe. He brought the rag up to his face and scrubbed lightly behind the back of his neck. Twitching as the cool water tickled his neck and shoulder blades. He then threw the rag on the floor and slowly put on his tunic. Now only his arms were exposed as he walked over to where his sword was and buckled in the sheathe and than began to wrap his robe around himself. His arms looked like tendrils had been burned deeply into the skin, forming noticeable indents as they coiled and wrapped themselves around his biceps and forearms, ending just at his wrists

Now with his body no longer exposed he felt comfortable, safe even. Still not noticing Tahlia and Faolan he began to limp to where he had thrown the rag. The moment he put on the those brown robes, his body language became noticeably different; No longer was he well built with broad shoulders, he acted like a enfeebled, crippled old man. Even the way in which he hunched over to pick up the rag, it was as if he had a bad back. It was all an act of course. Years of traveling alone on the road had made him a target for bandits and robbers, not to mention the possibility that the agents of Gods would realize someone was missing from Typhon's prison and go looking for Sisera. So he hid stayed out of sight in the broad daylight by looking like a old beggar. Even when he was alone he now did it out of habit. Whenever those brown robes covered him, it meant it was time to hide.

Though now there was seemingly another reason to hide behind this facade: to camouflage in the background of Kouri's group, become an unimportant face, just another person on their travels that no one would notice. Because if one member or another threatened Kouri, he had a better chance of "removing" it prematurely. That was to be his duty: to protect the crown from all threats, no matter what.

A pang of sadness hit him as he wiped the grime away under his eyes. Kouri was all that was left, he would never speak to the King ever again, nor would his Queen ever ask about his Father's health. Benjamin del Azul, the last true Steward of Renalta did not die his natural death, nor would Sisera ever plan his funeral service for him. It all turned to fire and then to soot.

He dropped the rag and slowly began to turn to the exit, he wanted to be back on the road now.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence. Faolan was first to overcome the initial shock and looked up to Tahlia—his worries were confirmed when he saw the her face fixed in horror, but soon it softened into pained pity.

Faolan shifted closer to her and nudged her gently with his shoulder, the intent twofold: firstmost to reassure her with his presence, but also to edge her out of the shock before she blurted out something she'd regret. As a once proud man himself, Faolan suspected that simple kindness would help the old man far more than pity.

"Si—" She choked, then closed her mouth and took a moment to compose herself. "Sisera, what happened to you? I've never seen scars so heavy on a man yet living."

"I'm sorry you had to see that." he said in a monotone voice, not answering her question. His eye briefly showed frightened surprise before reverting back to his usual dull, almost lifeless stare.

"I can assure you that men don't live through such things, unless ordained by a higher power" As he limped towards Tahlia and Faolan he genuinely stumbled slightly on his feet. His mind was feeling heavy and fuzzy, half finished memories had begun to rush towards him before he brutally suppressed them. It made formulating his thoughts that much harder, being comprehensible was now taking more concentration.

"It's...really nothing. It stopped hurting years ago. For the most part". For a moment, Faolan could smell the faintest whiff of smoke before the scent vanished entirely. As he got closer to the two, his hood began to obscure his face more and more. As if he was receding behind his entire robe. Soon his eyes were covered by the oversize hood.

"W-we really should get going." he said shakily.

Tahlia's eyes hardened—not in anger, but in resolve. She held out her arm to block the entrance from him, though having seen him without his stoop she knew he would have no difficulty pushing past her. "You do not need to be the strong one, Sisera; do not suffer in silence. We have healers here who might be able to help you. I fear that on the road—" She grimaced. "—your condition can only get worse."

"Trust me when I say I am much better than what I once was." He said plainly "I've lived my entire recent life on the road, mostly without difficulty". Now his voice betrayed no emotion and what parts of his face that wasn't concealed beneath his hood showed no immediate expression. Even without his thick robe, the man was difficult to read with his blank slate of a face.

"And there is no healer in this world or the next that could ever help me." he stated bluntly "These wounds were never made to kill me." Suddenly the smell of smoke came back, but much stronger, almost intoxicating. Now even Tahlia could smell it but there was no immediate source for it, for there was no fire or even a smoke trail. Not a single visual trace of its origins, just that its smell was as if she was in the middle of a wooden room that was burning.

"For that is the punishment of one who fights against the Gods" he said, except this time there was an inflection in it. Though it was cold and hard, there was some sense of maliciousness in it. Once again the smell evaporated but the strange part was that it seemed that Sisera didn't even notice the scent that had filled the room for those brief moments.

As the smoke reached her, Tahlia coughed and recoiled from the man, no longer making any attempt at halting his passage. Were he to look, Sisera might have noticed the flash of fear in her eyes as he spoke with previously unheard venom.

Once the air cleared enough that she was able to catch her breath, however, she spoke up again with a voice now raspy but sympathetic. "Perhaps there is nothing we can do, but until we try... Just consider it, please. I can't force you to accept help, but with so much at stake as it is, keeping these wounds to yourself will only make things harder in the long run, for yourself and for those who care for you."

Sisera paused for a moment, silent and suddenly not taking the opportunity to leave. He reached up and slowly pulled down his hood, revealing his pale, bald frame that was almost completely scar free, with only small cracks of scar tissue creeping up around his neck which only alluded to the marks that covered his chest. His dull, brown eyes now softened as he looked at the young woman, she remotely reminded him of someone else when he knew when he was younger.

"If it will sate your curiosity, if we have a moment I shall indulge you and you can inspect my...body if you so choose" he said slowly as he walked past her, his movement seemed stiff and unnatural and he didn't look her in the eyes again as he pulled his hood up again.

"All I ask is that you don't mention this to Kouri," he muttered quietly before leaving the room. He had a horse to fetch.
 
“I am sure it will not be too hard to make friends.”
-Mikan, Page 1.​

The Thief Shall Lead

After a few more minutes of preparation, Kouri leads everyone to the center of the stables. There, she speaks to them. “I’ve decided we are going to have a scouting party of five, travelling ahead of us at all times and informing us of dangers. Mikan, you will be the head of this group—choose four to go with you.” Mikan perks up in surprise, and clears her throat as she looks around at the group. “Sabre, Kalemn, Dean, Rheanna—the four of you handsome and beautiful people with me! We’re going scouting!” She giggles playfully, then looks at Kouri—the woman she just interrupted. Mikan quietly apologizes as Kouri continues speaking.

“The rest of you will travel with me. We will travel during the day and sleep at night in areas of cover. Marcus will take care of the business of night watches and guards, as well as rationing supplies.” Marcus nods in approval of the plan, and otherwise remains respectfully silent. “Look around you. This is the last you will see of this place, the last you will have of safety for a long time, I think. I cannot thank all of you enough for risking your lives in following me. I promise, I will do my best not to fail any of you.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, as the Princess seems at a loss for words. It seemed she was inexperienced at giving speeches to followers, or soldiers. “Let us be off, we shall have more time to converse and get to know each other over time.”

Travel

The scouting party led by Mikan skillfully managed to pick a path through the mountains, evading trouble each step of the way. Though it took them about half a week to traverse the remaining mountains between themselves and Rheinfeld, the weather cooperated and gave them a mix of cloud cover and sunny days—without any storms. Once in Rheinfeld, they would find themselves moving quickly toward the village. It would take at least one more day of travel to get there, as it had situated itself a fair distance away from the mountains—which vanished over the horizon behind themselves as they moved through a mix of light forests and grasslands.

Along the way through Rheinfeld, Mikan’s group manages to steer them all away from nearby Silver Shields, who were prowling around the countryside.

Finally, they reach the outskirts of the village. It was located by a small, light forest, with a single road running through it—from the capital, to the coastline. There were no walls, and the entire town could not possibly house more than five hundred people in total. It was a quiet place, and judging from the state of the structures, an older place—likely one that did not grow often, and which only a handful of families took care of. It seemed rather tranquil, and likely only existed as a resting place for the occasional Templar patrol to visit a couple of times per year while exploring the countryside for witches. It had a small church, a barracks for the militia, a mayor’s office, and the rest were simple peasant’s structures.

Mikan’s scouting party sets out again—this time to enter the village itself, and find the contact. If all went well, they would return within the hour.

Unsettling Silence

Nonetheless, the hour had passed. There was no sign of the scouting party, as Kouri sat on the grass and stared up at the blue sky. There was growing concern in her eyes as she looked around at those surrounding her. She still did not know most of them all that well. She was uncertain that she would ever truly know some of them all that well. Marcus approaches her, and bows his head respectfully. “Princess.” Kouri quietly stands up and brushes herself off. Once finished, she looks at Marcus, and bows her head respectfully in return. “Marcus. Is there something you need?”

“It has been an hour.”
“I know that.”
“What are your orders, then? What should we do?”

Kouri glances out among those who had remained with her, and pauses. Command was still something fairly new for the young woman it seemed. “May I have a brief amount of time to think?” She asks Marcus. He nods, and then takes a few steps back. His attention turned toward the surrounding woods, ensuring that the woman in his care would be kept safe in case of an attack.

James, meanwhile, approaches Hanus and Kasienka. He seemed oddly uncomfortable, as he scratched his arms in irritation. Kasienka would recognize it as the man being made physically disquieted by even partially suppressing his magical talent—a symptom not likely shared by most of the other magically inclined members of the group. He speaks, bluntly. “You feel that, right? Like... Worms, crawling over a corpse. You two are far more long lived than the rest of us, have you felt such things before?”

Hanus shakes his head. “I know not of what you speak. I am not inclined to the magical arts.” He glances to Kasienka, curious to know himself if she felt anything.

Old Business; New Business

The village itself seemed rather quaint. Upon arriving, the militia guards on duty greeted the scouting party without hesitation. They were, rather, quite friendly and polite. Walking through the town, Mikan seemed rather confused—none of it seemed right to her. Almost an hour had passed, and outside of the occasional militia guard waving at them in a friendly way, there was no other response. Nobody stared at them like they were outsiders, nobody was frightened at the sight of their weaponry. “This is far too shallow... I do not like this. Still... Marcus instructed us to go inside the church to meet his contact. May as well go there. Sabre, Kalemn, Dean, Rheanna, stay out of the church. I will go in alone.” She approaches the church, gripping the symbol of the father in her hands.

She whispers a prayer to herself in her native tongue. Dean would pick up on a few words, it was a prayer asking for protection from evil. Mikan then puts it away, and steps inside the church.

There was nobody inside. It was utterly vacant. The pews are coated in a thin layer of dust, and Mikan takes a few steps inside, then recoils back as she exhales, and she can see her own breath—the cold was unbearable. “What... What is this?” Mikan whispers as she steps back. She manages to leave the church, and closes the doors behind herself. “He’s not there, and it’s frigid—gripped by... By witchcraft!” She looks around, and notices all the people of the village had stopped what they were doing, and were now staring at them. All standing still, like statues.

Sabre would immediately feel the presence of something with a commanding grasp over the villagers. A magical tie to each and every one of them. The militia guard captain walks over to them all, bowing his head politely as he meets them. “A slave, a brigand, a boy mercenary, an amazon, and the Green Fox. To what do I owe the company of such prestigious individuals?” Mikan could be visibly seen shaking a little, her hands resting on her short blades. Before she can pull one out, the guard captain clicks his tongue, and speaks again. “Nuh uh uh, kill this man and all you do is deprive his wife and child of a husband.” Mikan’s hands slip off of the handles of her blades, and she sighs as she looks away from the Guard Captain’s eyes—refusing to meet the empty look that stared back at her.

“What do you want?”
“Answer my prior question, Green Fox.”
“We are here on behalf of... Friends. Lots of friends, who will march in here if you do anything to harm us.”
“Harm you? Green Fox? No... I do not think so. I seek not to harm you, darling.”
“... Darling?...”
“Come and see me. I await you in the basement of the church. I think... You would want to see this old figure of mine, one more time.”
“This is a demon trick, isn’t it?”
“No tricks. If you try to leave, I will force you to kill every man, woman, and child in this village. I don’t think you could live with that, could you?”

Mikan looks up at her allies. It seemed they had a choice to make. “I will give you time to think.” The militia guard captain says as he takes a few steps back, giving them the privacy to whisper to each other out of his direct earshot.
 
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