Marren raised a curious brow at the look on Zoran’s face as he settled her down though he didn’t pay much heed to it, instead looking at where their one armed companion had somehow bamboozled the guards into letting them in. Being inside the walls made the Citadel Keep seem even more sinister, if such a thing was possible. Marren felt his bones chill and it was not due to the cool weather, or the fact that they were in the shade. This place, in his mind, seemed cold in a way that was unnatural. Shops, stalls, various clubs, theatres and the like would have lined the road in Rose. Here instead there were smithies billowing smoke and workshops hammering, the sound and smell of an industry fixed to the needs of war. Casting his eyes about him he saw workers and soldiers and not much else. Weapons and other assortments lined buildings, being carried by workers or soldiers. However there were a few things he noticed that seemed entirely unfamiliar, bits and pieces that he was sure didn’t go into making armour or weapons, at least, not ones he was familiar with. This has to be it he thought, The Sky-Chariot is being made here. The sound of marching feet, so prevalent on the island, alerted him to the fact that he was playing the part of a guard escorting prisoners. He looked at his other ‘companions’, the translator and the armless vagrant. Not for the first time he questioned his sanity in accepting this task. Still, as they marched towards the dungeons, he could take solace in the fact that he still had Maria and her soldiers who were ready to act once they got what they came for. Or if things got complicated. Once in the dungeons, hiding away in a storeroom, Marren cut the prisoner’s bonds and fixed the Kantilian cloak around his shoulders. "What exactly will we be looking for?" Lindria asked him, after looking around carefully. "Or at least, where should we bring searching?" I have no fucking idea was the response in his head. “Ive noticed that many materials and workers seem to be going to a fro from somewhere behind the Citadel. A noticeable enough number. I believe that is where we will find what I am looking for” Though he spoke with confidence he didn’t feel it. "Come on" he urged after affixing his cloak "Our ruse can only last so much longer before someone in here grows a brain and notices us". He opened the door they came in, checked the corridors, then, satisfied, set out.

As the group approached the gates of the castle, Okita took one last sip of sake before slipping the bottle into one of his pockets. He then began, with great difficulty, tucking his shirt in. Managing to do a well enough job with one hand, he straightened his posture and marched up to the gatehouse in perfect parade march. "I'm retired former Captain of the Black Vanguard Unit, discharged honorably from the King's army due to injuries sustained". He used his right arm to remove his left section of shirt from his body, revealing his stub and seven insignia's burned into the left side of his chest, over the heart. One guard, a female blushed bright red at his revealed body and insignia's of service. "I recruited this passing guard in order to capture these two Rosilian spy's trying to operate near my home. I wish to enter and report to the Captain of the Guard, and nominate this soldier for a insignia of service." The female guard stammering over her words, spoke before her fellows. "Of..Of course sir.." as she called for the gates to open still blushing. Okita had pulled his shirt back in place and continued to parade march till they entered the passage for the dungeons. Neglecting to report to the Guard Captain, or nominating Marr for a insignia of service. Once out of site from the main courtyard, Okita pulled the sake from his pocket, gulped the remaindered and slowed to the back of there group, letting a silent sob slip. (Instead of Medals of Service, The Kantle Army burns Insignia's of service into soldiers who have performed above and beyond. Okita a former captain of a Vanguard Unit received seven Insignia's in his days of service, a outstanding and remarkable amount for a soldier of his age and rank, slingshoting him to becoming Captain of the Black Vanguard.)

Rammus was in the dungeon of Kantle Castle, being locked up in a cell a week earlier. How? The situation happens after he decided to kill the King in attempt to have revenge towards the one who started all the wars & shitstorms. Unfortunately, he screwed up upon reaching into the city, as the city guards spoke a whole different language to him, and all he said was "yes, ah-ha" in the Kantlian speech. He was sent to the dungeon for suspicions of espionage & illegal possessions of weapons. Thinking back at it, it was a total failure, he got caught before even entering the city, let alone to kill the king which is resided miles away from the borders of the city. "Damnnit, now I can't return home... BAH! not as if I'm heading back without the King's head anyways..." Rammus hissed, his eyes glued towards the bars of his cell and a few rats running back to its rathole. "Indefinite sentence here, F-M-L... Maybe I should think of a breakout..." Noticing a few guards walking by, images of the bloodthirsty soldiers marching into his homeland flashed upon his mind violently upon the sight of the Kantle crest. "!@#$ YOU!" He sprang to the jail bars with a bellow of Kantlian swearing, continuing in his native Eve speech as he squeezed the jail bars tightly. "MURDERERS! SCUMS! THAT F!@#$ING KING PASS AWAY! INVADING MY HOMELAND FOR !@#$%!!" He ranted out rashly, he didn't care about the consequences, he just wanted to vent out his hate towards the Evil kingdom. Little did he know that that's one of the fake guards in disguise~~

Marren had a permanent scowl underneath the upturned collar of his ‘borrowed’ coat. He was tense, always had been since they first landed on this dark, gods forsaken land. The strangeness of meeting Zoran and her…friends had taken some edge of, the surreality of the meeting striking past his serious demeanour. But now, when they were in the belly of the beast surrounded by the dank dungeon walls where torchlight seemed muffled, he felt tense again. Which was why he jumped when a random prisoner he did not know was there suddenly started shouting obscenities in Eve, a language he had not heard for some time. He shifted his eyes and squinted into the cell where the man was raging against the bars. He looked ragged. Marren waited for the man’s tirade to end before speaking in fluent Eve “You are either brave or foolish for speaking to me like that” he said evenly, looking around and spotting a keychain hanging high up one wall, an idea forming in his head. He reached up for it and approached the prisoner’s cell “The gods seemed merciful enough to change your fortune it seems” He paused, looking at the man’s eyes “We come here to strike at Kantle. I will let you go, will you join us?”

Zoran-Thiea threw a casual gaze over to the prisoner who cussed and lunged at the bars of his cell. The city must have brought some horrible injustice upon him for him to be speaking that way, but she wasn't exactly surprised at it. If anything, she was surprised that he had made it as far as the dungeons, rather than being cut down in the street for being an illegal immigrant of Eve. She understood his ravings well, albeit not in her native tongue; she had spend more than enough time trading goods in the Eveish markets to understand their language. Especially was she familiar with the sound of an angry cussing Eveite. Of course, though she continued along, the upset prisoner did catch the attention of Marr. The overly cautious Rosilian had seemed to find the stick to put back up his arse ever since they has neared the castle. He's probably just worried some guard is going to find us and cut us down like dogs. She huffed with a bit of a grin. Wait. Aren't you worried about that same thing? It is a very likely possibility, dear. Her mind seemed to inquire of itself. She took a moment to think. Well, yes. But it would make things a lot simpler if I died. Then I wouldn't be stuck having to traverse lands unknown in search of some way to bring my father the eternal damnation which he deserves. It really will take up quite a lot of time. But is it not a desire to do so, more than simply a burden to you? Well yeah. I do desire to be the orchestrator of his personal hell... Well anyone who believes in the gods knows that he will suffer his due in the afterlife. But we don't believe in the gods stupid... That is true... Somewhere in amidst the great intellectual debate she had been hosting with herself, Marr had stopped and turned to the prisoner. As she inadvertently continued walking forward, her steps were suddenly halted by the voice she heard. Marr, speaking plain as day: "You are either brave or foolish for speaking to me like that..." She turned with her mouth agape. Perhaps his Eveish was a little rusty, but she clearly understood his words, just the same as she understood the prisoner's words. "You bloody Rosilian bastard!" She called back to him in Eveish—still quite stunned—though she checked herself to make sure she didn't yell it as loudly as she had wanted to. She hadn't even thought to try to speak to him in Eveish. She guessed that noble Rosilians would never bother soiling their fine pallet with either of the other languages. She shook her head in disbelief and then turned to the prisoner as Marr then asked him to join them. "Well, if you're coming, move your arse!"

Rammus looked at the keys in surprise. A situation like a fake guard who actually released his life sentence was way beyond any of his expectations. "Almost thought that I'm facing Grenth. Hah... To think that the most aggressive army in this world would've such security over the castle Dungeon. On the right track into killing that shitty king, yay~" He replied with a slight sarcasm as he slammed the prison door wide open, while he turned to Marren as he continued, "Oh I almost forgot, thanks mister~" He currently doesn't have his main weapon- a bow on his possessions. All he have right now is just a small knife to defend against those guards. "Oh, do ya have any spare weapons for me? Also, I'm on my way up to the Castle ^^" He hissed, making a slight smile as he finished the sentence.

Marren’s eyes were set, wide eyed on the wild woman as the Evian words rushed out of her tongue. For some reason in his mind all he expected of her non-Kantilian speech was wild gibberish, not that the sharp and forceful Kantilian tongue wasn’t, just that by her looks he didn’t think she was capable of more complex speech. Caught so unawares as he was the insult went over his head. “You’re more civilized than I thought, Wild-Zoran” He corrected himself as he addressed her “How do you know the speech of Eve?”. He shook his head “Nevermind, not important right now” He turned to the freed prisoner, hesitated for a moment, and then handed him a dagger. A simple, Kantilian dagger found in the uniform he stole. “Here, it should work for now” He looked at Zoran, “Let us move” he nodded to the direction of what he hoped was the exit to this godsforsaken place. They moved with swiftness, Zoran, the now defunct translator and thier new attachment on tow. Up dank stairs and through dark corridors they went, not one window seen for at least half an hour but thankfully not a lot of guards as well, and those that were here were the new recruits, untrained and unwatchful, probably thinking there were no threats from the broken spirited and deranged prisoners. Marren avoided them when he could and only engaged when absolutely necessary. Multiple times he had to reign in their new tag-along, so zealous was he to spill Kantilian blood. Eventually with the luck and blessing of the gods the party made it out of the dungeons and into the castle proper. Here Marren was more familiar, though this was indeed a different castle he had been in many to know enough about the standard layout. Still, the Black Keep was something else. Contrary to its name it was a relatively well lit place on the inside with great roaring fires behind sinister black brazers, though Marren could hardly feel the warmth. It seemed to be the main throne room, made obvious by the large, wrought iron throne that rose out of the ground in the far center of the great hall. Huge banners were hung on the walls and pillars bearing the arms of the King of Kantle and his house and along with them the decaying corpses of slain enemies. Maren knew this, for he recognized at least a handful of them. They still wore some part of their Rosilian regalia. The throne room seemed empty but for a few guards and servants passing by, some giving them the odd glance but none making a move to stop them. Marren was thankful he had forced Rammus to wear at least a coat to hide his prisoners rags as he lead them through a side passage, intent on going the roundabout way to whatever accounted for a war room in this place. Though, knowing Kantle, the whole place was a war room. The war, or at least thats what Marren thought was keeping the guards light, seemed to benefit them for there were not many bodies patrolling the lit but cold halls and those that were were boys and young men, probably still in the midst of training. He searched room after room while pretending to lead his party on a 'patrol route' until he made it up the fifth floor where he saw something intriguing. As they made their way up the stairs Marren saw the same lit but cold hallways with adjacend rooms but in the center stood two guards, seemingly standing in front of one of the rooms. He quetly led the party behind a corner from which he could spy on the guards and after he did so he turned to Zoran. "I think there lies our quarry" he indicated to the guarded room. "No other room has such heavy guard". Though he said those words he once again felt his mind speaking differently Could be the King's damn bedroom, or something else that requires guard. He did not share such thoughts with his companions. "Zoran, have you any way to dispatch the guard?"

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