Alec eyed the brandy as Milo poured it an offered it to him. He had never been one to drink much. He felt it dulled the senses and slowed him down. He waved his hand before him and shook his head. "No thank you. I'm not much of a drinker." He looked from the glass to Milo for a moment before speaking again. "You're welcome to it. You seem to have been out in the rain for quite some time." What would've been a friendly comment from anyone else felt strange coming from Alec. He spoke in a distant, detached manner, and his voice had an eerie calm to it. He looked out the window of the carriage at the falling rain. After a few moments he spoke. "So, Lieutenant, what do you know about Marshal Boyd?" He was curious as to just what kind of man he'd be meeting with.

Milo was surprised that the man had refused the drink. As Milo eyed the drink for a moment, he thought about it. He could easily drink it, without it affecting him much. Milo glanced back up at Alec for a moment, before committing the greatest of sins. Milo opened the small window latch to the carriage, and dumped the brandy out the window. then, Milo returned everything to their appropriate places, and closing the compartments. "Marshal Boyd has been in his position for a few years, and is very respected here in Lieda." Milo answered, his stone face still holding. In truth, not very many people saw him as a apt commander, and not very likely to be leading men into combat. "He's an excellent politician." Milo added, as the carriage rocked. They'd be at the Office soon enough. As Milo looked on Alec, and kept with the conversation, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. He had felt the same feeling before only once in his life, and that was when he witnessed a dead body, that was left by bandits completely naked, being fed on by a few vultures. It was a dread, almost. Milo had no idea why the man was giving him such a feeling, however.

Alec listened intently, his pink eyes locking with Milo's as he spoke. The way Boyd was described, he seemed more of a politician than a soldier. Alec had worked with the type before. They usually didn't like getting their hands dirty, and so had to search for someone that was. He was all too willing to oblige. He drummed his fingers against the side of his seat in the carriage. He would hopefully see just what kind of man Boyd was for himself fairly soon. He certainly hoped whatever they required of him would be at least a bit challenging. He hadn't left the Reins to be bored by trivial execution duty. "Have you any word of what it is Marshal Boyd wants me for?" Alec's cold, silky voice floated across the carriage. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I wasn't told much, only that he sought my...services. A ship was sent for me not long after that." He watched as the city passed them by out the window.

As Milo opened his mouth to respond to Alec, the carriage came to a complete stop, and the door soon opened up, revealing the front of the Office building. Milo nodded at Alec, and made his way out first. The rain was still lightly coming down, something that bothered Milo. As the two other Scouts stayed at the carriage, Milo beckoned Alec to follow him inside. Milo was relieved to be out of the carriage with Alec. The confined space with such an off-putting man wasn't something Milo favored. Milo walked towards the Office building, two guards opening wrought iron gates for him, in order to enter the courtyard of the Branch Office. The courtyard was soaked with rain, but still quite beautiful and luxurious. Milo followed the gravel path up to the double doors of the Office Building, opening them, and allowed Alec to precede inside first.

Before Milo could answer the question the carriage came to a stop. They had evidently reached their destination. Alec followed Milo out of the vehicle and out into the rain. He followed the Scout through the large iron gates of the office and up soaked gravel path. Milo opened the door for him to enter. Alec walked straight through the doors of the Branch Office at a brisk pace. The interior of the building was a good representation of the wealth of Arcartus. The floor was made of fine marble, and a number of columns made of a similar material lined the walls. A large golden chandelier hung above the center of the foyer. Alec took a few steps in, glancing around the large room for his host.

The chamber bustled with office workers, rushing to and fro across the marbled floor to the far reaching arms of the state military's capital office. Dispatches and semaphore reports from across the country either passed through this town, or were forwarded from the grand offices at Erschald for review, and each had to be carried, sorted, stored or destroyed by someone in this myriad of collared shirts. One man stood out to the two entering immediately, a broad faced man completely bald and decorated with a thin, curled mustache that only reached such levels of properness through idleness. Ludrick Boyd. He wore the red coat of a high officer, trimmed in white over black pants seemingly common to Arcarti staff. A few colored bits of ribbon decorated his sleeves but the only medal he bore was a large badge on the left breast of his jacket identifying some military honor or another. With a small but genuine smile he strode forward, offering his hand to both men in sequence, starting with Alec to be on the proper side of things. "I trust our sailors and soldiers have treated you well, Lord Cross. The crown welcomes you to Arcartus, and warns you to take care in the rain," He chuckled at the joke, and looked at Milo as well. "And I see one of our new and brightest took you here." He shook his head, "I digress. Mister Cross, shall we talk business here or shall we two retire to my office?"

Alec observed the stately-looking man strolling across the marble floor. Before he opened his mouth Alec had determined who he was. He accepted the man's handshake, a gesture that would likely lead to the same realization Milo had about the spiked knuckles. Boyd ran through the pleasantries of welcoming him to Arcartus. "I appreciate your warm welcome, Marshal Boyd. Your men have treated me just fine." Alec still had the same tone of voice he had with Milo earlier. Though not a rude tone by any means, there was no added reverence for being in the company of such a high-ranking officer. Alec considered the Marshal's question for a moment before deciding it would likely be easier to conduct business away from the bustling workers. "I think your office would be far more appropriate, Marshal." He said, motioning to the crowd of workers running around them.

The marshal was not as stone faced as the scout had been about finding a metal hand where he'd expected maybe a glove at most, and a slight surprise crossed his face. Well, they'd looked at him for what was supposedly an iron fist, maybe literally. His smile reformed almost instantly, anyway. "Certainly, come with me," he said gently, and turned with a motion for Alec to follow him. He lead down a hallway at the far end of the room down to an office barred only by a simple wooden door with a gold nameplate on its surface. He went in first, leaving the door open behind him, and pulled one of the many chairs from the wall before a wide oak desk sitting in the center of the room on a lively red carpet. "Please make yourself at home," he said, and after sat himself down behind the desk. He waited a moment for his guest to settle in, and began with a clearing of his throat the well rehearsed line. "The state of Arcartus has sought your employ because of your reputed expertise as an organizer of men and a leader. While ordinarily it is our practice to deny the other continents information on Estovetian affairs, it is likely common knowledge that an empire of any size suffers from a considerable number of... internal pressures." He seemed a little nervous on that line, and truth be told he didn't quite agree with the method being applied here. "It is the belief of a sufficient number of high ranking officers that you would be just the man to... mitigate some of those pressures. There is a more specific dispatch to be issued, should the matter spark your interest." That wasn't necessarily true, he'd been told to pursue Cross' help at cost if need be. But why play all the cards early?

Alec followed the Marshal to his office and took a seat in a well-made wooden chair when it was offered to him. He sat back in the chair and listened as Boyd began his speech. It was not the first time he had heard such a speech. When serious internal problems arose, it was much easier to have an outside force quell them than dealing with the backlash of butchering your own citizens. Alec nodded along as Boyd spoke. It seemed his reputation had spread in Arcartus, as the Marshal mentioned that a number of officers seemed to know about him. As Boyd finished, Alec spoke up. "I could certainly help you eliminate your... problem. From the sound of things such a task would fall under my area of expertise, to be sure." The lord paused for a moment. "However, I do not work for free, dear Marshal." Alec locked eyes with the man. "I assume the details of my payment will be part of these specifics?" Alec seemed incredibly calm.

Milo stood posted outside the Marshal's office as the two men hashed out details in Boyd's office. Tiny droplets dripped from parts of his uniform, slightly wetting the area around him. Milo stood at attention though, hands behind back, with forearms and shoulders forming a V to the side of his body, with his vision facing straight ahead. Milo was an officer, and would act like one. Some Scouts, especially when in the field, found solace in shirking their standards. Milo reveled in following all customs of the Scouts, however, minus the cloak and boots. As Milo stood at the office door, he wondered back to Alec's question. He wondered exactly why they would invite such a seemingly dangerous man to Arcartus, willingly. It wasn't Milo's part to question his orders, however. His orders were to receive the man upon his arrival, lead him to the CBO, and then lead the man to a place where he could lodge for the night. His orders did not extend past that, and Milo was happy that he'd be done with the man soon.

Boyd smiled uneasily as the conversation progressed as had been roughly scripted. He admired his colleagues up north, they certainly understood the game better than he ever had, but this was by nature capital duty. He opened one of the many sliding drawers of his desk and withdrew an evenly folded letter, sealed by crimson wax and stamped with the mark of grand marshal Wolcott, a cheeky representation of a long-tailed marmot from his family's coat of arms. Boyd broke the seal by hand and unfurled the letter before his eyes before laying it on the table for review. It was the plant letter not detailing his exact instructions, but rather a potential proposal to Alec Cross. "The crown proposes an initial payment to the order of gold bullion in the equivalence of 300,000 Arcarti silvers for the securement of services from one Alec Cross, recognized lord of the Reins." He read expertly although he seemed to be a little parched. In truth there was quite some resentment for trusting a foreigner but, if the whisperings he heard through his friends in the military were true, the intent of the hire wasn't necessarily suppression but securing foreign interest in Arcartus. Whatever their game was, he read on. "Following acceptance of the contract, a monthly payment of fifty thousand, in silvers directly, is to be made until the expiration of the contract, which is to be extended at the will of both parties five days before the end of each month. There is significant legal jargon here, mister Cross, as is the nature of this country, but you may read freely of the letter in the understanding that we wish to groom transparency and trust in this partnership."

The last time she'd been in the capital had been as a refugee fresh out of Lachne. It was refreshing to see that the place was just as miserable as she'd left it. Maria Trinan meandered through the city streets towards the capital offices, knowing that was where she'd eventually be needed and finding nothing else to pass the time. She wondered where her officer staff was, after all, she'd cut them loose with few exceptions seeing as they were only here to escort one Alec Cross. She'd heard the stories, and what little she knew about the man didn't excite her for his stay in the country. Before she could begin to brood about the vulture, truly come to pick carrion, the branch office appeared around a corner. She was, by now, soaked to the bone and was grateful for the imposing building's shelter, even if the smell of paperwork was already intolerable. She had one of her own to retrieve, though. The captain roamed the halls, leaving a trail of rainwater from her slowly drying green jacket. The Ranier she was looking for turned out to be where she'd expected. So they haven't moved Boyd's office yet, she recalled a time she had to sit and listen to the man speak about enlistment practices, and shuddered. Announced by the clatter of bootheels over the marble stone, she approached Milo, nodding but keeping her hands in her jacket's pockets. "Milo," she said, her form of a greeting. "What's he like?"

Milo stood at attention, even as he saw Maria approaching him. He didn't show any excitement on his face, but he was filled with it as he saw his Captain. "Captain Trinan, it's nice to see you." Milo replied, keeping his iron visage despite his emotions. Milo relaxed his attentive state, as he focused on Maria. "I don't trust him." Milo said abruptly, and in a hushed tone, so only Maria and himself could hear, "The man was wearing spiked knuckles when he walked off the boat." Milo added. It then hit Milo that he had allowed the armed man to walk into the Marshal's office. Milo froze for a moment, before turning around, and reaching for the knob, but stopping a second before grabbing it. Sweat built up on Milo, and a horrified look came over his face. He had messed up on the job. He had only one thing to do, and he managed to screw it all up. Milo's hand was still frozen, mid-reach to the door.

"Maria," she corrected. She'd lived under regulation long enough she didn't have a taste for it outside of when it was necessary. Even still, she couldn't force it out and despite her shirking of naming conventions she found herself miming Milo's guard posture next to the door, albeit with pocketed hands. "Don't ever trust people known for violence," she said, referring to Alec, and knowing full well that it went the same for her and her scouts. Her glaring eyes went to the door as Milo mentioned the knuckles, and as he went for the knob her foot instinctively came off the floor, just slightly before she stopped herself, in the same kind of reaction. Cursed warmonger, the only words that sprang to mind, but the two hovered there without taking action. Perhaps for the best, there didn't seem to be any struggle inside the office. Maria breathed out, turning back around and leaning up against the wall, and looking all the more uncomfortable for breaking posture. "One yell, and we go in." She said to Milo, a hair short of her command voice but an attempt to be reassuring. An incident like this would have cost them lives, a voice reminded her, and inwardly she was grateful this was all at home rather than in some back alley out of country.

Milo snapped back to his guard position, after Maria spoke. Milo's posture was rigid, but his face still showed worry. Milo attempted to put it all to the back of his mind, as he stood at the door along with Maria. "So, why did you end up coming here? Needed to talk?" Milo asked, worrying poking through in his voice. Milo loathed messing up on the job, and he couldn't believe he had blew it this bad. After a moment, Milo's stoic visage returned to him. He was finally starting to dry off, and droplets stopped dripping from him. It didn't change the fact that his clothes were still soaked. Every time he moved, he could feel everything clinging to his skin. He couldn't wait to take Alec to his lodgings, and then changing into fresh clothes.

Maria stayed still for a moment, appreciating the flooring from her spot against the wall while she thought over her answer. There were only so many things you could say to a serious lieutenant without pulling rank. "I'm bored, and wanted to oversee the actions of my company," she finally said, feeling satisfied enough with that answer, obvious lie that it was. This was supposed to be some earned leave before they were thrown to the wolves, or at least placed in operation alongside their foreign friend. What other reason would the entirety of 33RASC have been recalled for, when every man of the lifeguard was mere moments away in Keep Lieda and itching to step out and escort something. "Talking is okay too," she added after a moment's reflection and a defeated sigh. No sense waltzing around the point. At a time where she would have rather polled her officers they were all away, or dead, understrength as the company was right now. Recent hires like Milo kept them afloat, although thankfully with the exception of his predecessor the officer staff had remained alive. "I don't like the idea of us working with Cross." That was that, she had to say it just the once, because there wasn't much they could do about it.

MILO

Milo was satisfied with Maria' s answer, although she didn't seem to be the kind to just wander around. Milo's stoic image faltered for a moment at Maria's momentarily reflection, before returning to Milo's face. "Neither do I." Milo replied, simply. He didn't enjoy any time spent with the man. "But orders are orders." Milo added, after a moment. That's all he could think of to reassure himself. Higher-ups always knew best, Milo thought. As long as Milo put his faith into something that he believed was infallible, nothing could go wrong for him. He turned his head to look at Maria, before speaking, "I heard we were going to be headed to Loenn." Milo blurted out. No official word had been given, but there were rumors in the rest of the 33rd that they unit's next stop was Loenn. Milo was eager to get into the field, and prove what he was worth, but Loenn was very far north. He didn't like being up North, he preferred the heart of Estovet. Milo looked at Maria, anxiously, as he awaited an answer.

SOAH

As the trio got closer to the town, Soah smirked at Sinette's remarks. "How about you buy me some clothes, and I'll return your sword instead of a melting it down for cash." Soah said, with a smirk. The girl was dangerous, but she also seemed fairly innocent, or even playful. This was good. Soah would be able to get himself some clothes with stealing it, and the girl would get her sword back. Then, Adrian and Soah could head to the tavern, have a few drinks, and then begin the real leg of their adventure. Soah twirled the giant sword in his hand for a moment, albeit less agile and skilled than Sinette, before returning it to his shoulder. "My name is Soah, by the way. Not naked man." Soah said, gruffly, as the pair began to enter the town proper.

Alec nodded along with Boyd's words. 300,000 was a decent down payment. He'd received more, on at least one occasion that he could remember, but it was certainly a respectable amount. The talk of continuing payment after the initial sum made the offer much more appealing. Alec sat in silence for a moment, running over the idea in his head before finally speaking. His eyes glanced up towards Boyd's, the dim light from the window shining against his face. "That seems like quite a respectable sum Marshal, I could work for that much." He glanced back towards the door, where he had heard footsteps and hushed conversation a few moments before. It seemed someone had joined Milo, a woman from the sound of things. Alec doubted the Arcartis would try anything, after all, they had no real reason to. The lord leaned forward in his chair, looking Boyd directly in the face. "Well then Marshal, tell me, what exactly shall I be doing for the fine kingdom of Arcartus?" There was a touch of excitement in Alec's voice as he asked the question, and his eyes lit up with a certain fervor. For the amount they were offering, he was certain his work would be entertaining.

Loenn

---

Griff nodded to Crom as the man dismounted to go have his wounds seen too. Hopefully the doctor knew his stuff, werewolf wounds probably weren't particularly common. "There's bound to be a market somewhere, that might be a good place to kill some time." He said to answer Johnathon's question. In truth he wanted to see as much of the town as possible and he could lose Johnathon in the bustle of a market to go surveying. He wanted to have every advantage possible if this deal either went south or if he decided to intervene. "Come on let's go." He said, hopping down from the cart before Johnathon had time to argue.

Looking around the street they were on, Griff could already see that the building were all about the same height, that would make movement across the rooftops a lot easier. The broad streets would limit the usefulness of that though. "In most Fort Towns the market usually springs up in front of the keep. We should head towards the fort." Griff said, turning back to Johnathon.

Loenn

---

The doctor lead Crom away into the inn, greeting the owner and taking him directly to one of the rooms that had been prearranged. His examination was brief, a mix of practiced indifference and genuine disbelief at the nature of the wounds. "What'd you do, get into a fight with a mountain lion?" They clearly weren't caused by a sword, or at least, a well maintained one, but he remembered the blood around the scene and knew the wound had to have been caused at that location. There hadn't been any obvious animosity among them excepting maybe the naked man that got shunted away. A chill crept through him as he struggled to connect the dots and found only horrific ideas. Still, he had a job to do and set to work. It'd been a long time since the wound had been inflicted, and there wasn't much he could do that Crom's body wasn't already doing slower. He withdrew a roll of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic mixture with a brush, and after coating the former in the sickly smelling substance, set to work wrapping up the wound. "What about the rest of you? Aches or breakages?" He asked as he worked.

John watched them leave in a strange state of concern. He wondered not only if Crom would be okay but if he would be capable after treatment. They were not out of the woods just yet, even though they were in a town. Poor figure of speech, he reminded himself, and turned to Griff to reply. The man was already gone from his sight, off the cart. Whatever he planned on killing time with, it was apparently a great idea. John clambered down from the top of the wagon, joining the other man on the street and making to follow him. "The fort it is," he agreed, though he had only a general idea of its direction from his lookaround atop the wagon. "Looking to pick something up?" He asked, making casual talk. Whatever they ended up doing, he'd probably stop and sew somewhere eventually. They could all look out for themselves and he had no doubt their employer could find them in this town. So he made his way with Griff into the town, slowly regaining his land legs after the long ride.

Lieda

---

He hadn't been expecting that. A weak smile spread across Boyd's face as he counted his blessings in not having to haggle it out with somebody they called the vulture. A man who, as much as the entire situation, was beginning to unnerve him. Every mannerism and facet of the man was simply wrong by some aspect of his mind, and while he wasn't quite certain enough to put his finger on malice, there was a word he was desperately searching for to describe the aura in the room. "Yes, exactly what you'd be doing..." He couldn't pull out the other letter right now, now could he? Hopefully the writers had said enough to cover his remembrance of the contract in the letter. "You'll be given charge of a small military unit of selected regulars from the State Army, to command and outfit as you please. As the royalty have voiced interest in the issue, you will be accompanied by an element from the 33rd Royal Arcarti Scouts Company, which you will have say over the composition of. Their subordination is assured." He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on his desk and took a sip, he was beginning to stammer as dry as he was. "Besides some of the interests of supplying you with domestically trained troops. For right now, the army has deemed your trial, if you will, will be being sent west to corral some of the more dissent ridden regions along our border. They have always been afforded a certain degree of autonomy but recent events have forced our hand. There is already an operation underway in the area and cleanup of any resulting unrest will surely be entrusted to you, as well."

She considered Milo's words for a moment. Of course, everyone was anxious about their next deployment. They were still far understrength, and their standing hurt because of it. Regardless, they would be sent somewhere, and all the loose lips saying that the frigid north was next were correct. "The 6th is there, for Sacamede." Maria said with thinly veiled disapproval. 6RASC could do the job, she admired that company in particular, but it came as a surprise that the 33rd had been pulled away after months of tracking so that someone else could make the grab. She didn't care for the glory, but the entire thing reeked of the bureaucracy that cost plenty of innocent lives. "They're going to split the company for special duties. Too few men to operate. Some of them, maybe you, will go with Cross." It was a stupid decision by any measurement of military competency. The retainer for their newly acquired lord would be made from her men, and what remained of her company would be sent off to handle advisory or training duties for a few months until reorganization started. In the meantime one of the most reputed companies of the royal scouts would be utterly out of commission because of one foreigner. She returned Milo's look with her neutral glare. "There are already attempts on that man's life being planned." Anybody with a reputation like that was a target, she figured. The people didn't want him, the League really didn't want him. She didn't want him, but that was just unfortunate. The scouts would undoubtedly be the shield sent for him.

A horrified look overcame Sinette as Soah mentioned melting down her sword. "Alright! I'll buy you all the clothes you want, naked man, just don't melt my sword!" Sinette pleaded, pulling on Soah's cloak. As she walked along, a little upset at her current predicament, she glanced around the town, hoping to find a nearby thrift shop in order to buy clothes. After Soah introduced himself, Sinette snickered. "I'm still calling you naked man." Sinette said, with a smirk, getting weird looks from random passerbys, "My name is Sinette." She added, introducing herself. After a moment of looking around, Sinette could see a sign for a clothing store. Excitedly, she took off, into the store. After a few minutes, Sinette emerged with several different articles of clothing. A big dark blue cloak, a pair of pants, some boots, and white tunic. As she ran over to the group, she dropped the clothes in front of Soah, onto the ground. "That cost me a lot of money, y'know." She said, with a unamused look on her face. She held her hand out eagerly, awaiting her sword to be returned to it's rightful, clothed, master.