[b]Valfunde Perar, 
City of Deliar, on patrol[/b]

Scowling through his helmet at the peasants openly glaring at the small unit of Guardsmen as they made a quick beat through the streets, Valfunde only thought of the rest of the morn' spent and wasted, anxiously, in the Council chambers. They hadn't even had real matters to discuss, he reflected sardonically. The clip-clop of mailed boots in fresh shit was a funny sound; one of the Perar warriors before him halted, grunting as he knelt to inspect his shoe. "Good step there, sergeant." Valfunde said with a light note of humor in his otherwise deadpan voice. The warrior only responded with a grunt, before grabbing a cloth from his belt to wipe at his shoe. "Hold here a moment," the nobleman added, smirking.

He took advantage of the pause to examine again the faces of the passerby. Commoners. Lots of brown, dirty hides, leather. Everything dirtied, scuffed, or held together with patches and more dirty cloth. This district was one of the lower ones, a place where before the Guard had been unusually lax, allowing a flow-in of illegal visitors and an increase in poverty that always followed. This was also the former home of many of the commoners serving in this Guard detachment, somewhere they had been glad to have risen out of. He sniffed in dank air through his helm and relaxed a bit. A hard place, surely, but not all these people were low-brow scum, even if they made it harder. Meanwhile, the patrol continued, Valfunde simply putting his hands slowly around his sword's pommel where it sat low in his belt, the men paying attention to their captain's subtle movements.

As they walked, they were recognized by soldiers headed back the other way, and exchanged salutes for a moment before breaking back into their own stride. Neither group seemed particularly on-guard, since an ambush or attack was hardly to be expected on an armed detachment of the Guard, especially not with Valfunde Perar at their head. Likely they'd end their patrol at the pub, or maybe he'd let his men go whoring for the night after making his own way to the tavern, alone. The stress of the sealed chambers meeting earlier faded a little, but he was still distracting himself with these refreshingly honorless thoughts as he made his way down the street. A night of not-absolutely-shit beer at the Buckle seemed most ideal.