Once she had finished her meat she began to eat the rest of her vegetables. At least she had something in her stomach. Hunger had started to attack her stomach a few nights ago, and it didn’t let up. Sure, she had gotten a few bites of bread down, but the bread was stale and small and didn’t fill her belly at all. The only water she had was the remaining drops in her water pouch, and that was about it. It was rare that she suffer from hunger, even in these times, but then again, they were marching across a barren land. There were lizards and snakes, of course, but there were no deer or large enough fish to properly feed a hungry lot as themselves. That was why she eagerly finished her greens and then went to the russet fruit that laid on the bed. She knew the name of it, but it escaped her at the moment. It was an interesting fruit with bright red skin.

Ambra took the fruit and slit it in half with her knife, wincing as the juice spilled out and made a mess. The juice of the fruit was just as red as the seeds inside of it, which were meant to be eaten and not disposed of. Lining the outside ring of the middle of the fruit, and traveling to the middle and hiding the seeds in comb shaped cavities, was the yellow pulp that was not meant to be eaten at all. She dug her fingers into the openings and brushed the seeds out onto the plate. That was a messy process as well, and made her fingers and clothes become stained with a rosy red color. She had seen the color too much lately. But she had gotten herself into the situation, for she was a Shepherd, and Shepherds were to tend to their sheep. Even if it meant spilling the blood of the wolves and other evil things that attacked the flock…

Someone came into the room, and her face hardened for a moment. She hoped that it wasn’t that bandit again. Ambra didn’t mean to be hostile, but the thought of having someone so sneaky and shady sent shivers up her spine. The actual thought of that person actually traveling with them terrified her to no ends. But instead of a pair of blue eyes looking at her, she saw a glimpse of red hair and relaxed. Ah, it was that woman. The woman that wanted to help the thief. She chewed on some of the seeds and relished their taste before swallowing and beginning to speak.

”I’m a healer, it’s what I do.” she told her, offering her a smile. ”I mend bones and stitch shut wounds, but I’ve never been one for being on the front lines. Leave that to the others. I have to admit, it does get tiring every so often, but every time I see the people who were once injured fighting with all of their might, I feel proud. I know I did that, and I know that I can help in my own way.”

---

Lumara listened to what Tihlas said, looking down at the floor. Perhaps what he said was right. Perhaps what he said was how she was supposed to act. But she personally felt like an empty shell at the moment. Lumara wasn’t one for bonds or caring. The one that she cared about the most was her wyvern, Caius, and even he couldn’t talk to her. He was an animal, not a human being to laugh with and squeeze when she was afraid. Not that she would. That was when she was a noble, all donned in her silk dresses from foreign lands and set on display for men to see. She felt as if she were for sale, then. She felt like her mother and father didn’t love her, even though they said they did. She felt as if her father were hungry for power, even though he wasn’t. All he would care about was marrying her off to some foreign man that she didn’t even know.

Her grip tightened on her mug and she glowered down at her reflection in the liquid. Leaving was the best thing she had done. She was young back then, and she didn’t know where to go, but at least she was free. She could run barefoot and play with boys in the street. She could eat and steal and fight and frolic in dirty puddles. And there would be no one to yell at her, to take her by the wrist and drag her back home. Back then, her hands were filled with dirty plates and clothes. But when she had finally grown up, when she was finally old, the plates and clothes were ripped away and replaced with a weapons of her choice. It was then that she became a Wyvern Rider with her new mount, Caius.

Yet, the Riders of Dawn were killed shortly after. Lumara turned to liquor and prostitution, depressed. Even Caius was almost taken away at one point, due to the fact that she did not have enough money to pay for the damages that he had caused. The Ylissean officials threatened to “put him down”. Never did three words frighten her so. She swore that, if Caius was killed, she would throw herself off from the highest mountain. He was all she had left, even if he was some drooling, growling beast. Thankfully, she found herself joining the Shepherds, but even they were mostly killed off. At least there were some left, like this guy and those other people.

”Huh?” Lumara realized that she had blanked out, and shook her head. Maybe she should stop drinking. The alcohol was bringing back unhappy memories. Or maybe she could keep drinking and drown herself in a stupor. The pale haired man had raised the mug toward her, and she blinked before pressing her mug against his. ”Yeah, whatever.” she mumbled out, before taking the rest of the drink and tipping her head back, swallowing what was left of the rum.

---

Pain.

It was all that he felt for what seemed like decades on end. When he had fallen, he had crashed against the water as if he had jumped off a cliff to a canyon floor. He knew that he couldn’t move, for when he had tried to swim, he was overcome with severe pain and began to slip into unconsciousness. Fear washed over him as well, that is, until someone fished him out of the water and began to speak to him. Who the person was, what gender they were… it was all a blur to him as he finally gave into the darkness that overcame him.

Talbot felt like he was out of it for days at a time. He would wake up, feel someone moving him, and then pass out again. There was never enough time to fully deduce where he was or how he had gotten there, or even their mode of travel. Pain would still split down his body like a current of thunder when he moved, but it began to slowly ebb away after a few days. This did not mean that he was not currently in pain. Or that he knew where he was and his spurts of unconsciousness ended.

This time he woke up in a soft bed, staring at a roof that hung lowly over him. He breathed, but harshly, roughly. The pain still tormented him, razing across his ribs like a wildfire, clawing at his left leg like an angry lion. He screwed his eyes shut and ground his teeth, groaning as the pain inched its way into his head. Talbot tried to make sense of what had happened, how he had fallen. Never did he know that water felt so much like a sheet of rock. It felt much different when one waded in and swam. Maybe one of the Ylissean soldiers had cast a spell, making the water turn into stone until he slammed into it. He groaned again, trying to raise a hand to his head, but wincing and grunting as soon as he lifted it a bit. He felt like a corpse, wrapped in terse bandages that prevented limbs from moving. He could move them a little bit, but they did not feel like they were split or shattered. The only way that bones could mend like that was via magic spells. Was his savior a cleric, then?

Someone opened the door, and he felt as if he was being stared at. ”Who’s… there?” he wheezed out, trying to focus on the person. But his vision was still blurry, and craning his head made his shoulders and neck hurt. ”Hello..?” panic started in him, and his head was aflutter with horrible thoughts. Was… he captured by the Ylisseans? Was he to be tortured? Were they expecting him to speak? ”Answer me!”

Tihlas watched in silence, she was clearly remembering hard times and other people. He thought back to how he'd joined the Shepherds. Ironically, he ended up fighting with one in the defense of a criminal, thinking that the man was getting picked on or chased by some rogue. After some struggling, and when they were both tired, the true criminal pulled out a knife and made as if to stab the knight he was fighting with in the back. Tihlas had promptly thrown the man aside and sent a kick straight into the criminal's nards, not feeling the least bit guilty about it. After that, he'd been knocked out and things went from there.

He'd been brought out of his own thoughts when Lumara came out of her's, pressing her mug to his. Yep, she hadn't really been paying attention to him, and honestly, he'd assumed that much. He downed his mug in one go, chugging it until it was empty, and immediately felt the effects when he was done. Apparently, it was true that mixing two different drinks together kind of had an extra effect. He looked at Lumara again, swearing that she looked a little different, but shook his head when he felt a slight dizzy feeling and rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

---

Misani had already gone through three other rooms, not liking the fact that none of them had any sign of being used by anyone. Then she opened a fourth door, and was surprised to see a bandages, yet familiar looking man on the bed. She thought he was asleep, so it came as a surprise when, halfway to a bag in the corner, he began saying things. She actually yelped in surprise at the sudden outburst, falling flat on her rump and grumbling curses and profanities. She couldn't believe that that had scared her.

But, now she realized that the man couldn't move at all, and so walked quietly over to him once he'd quieted down. She wanted to see just what made him seem so familiar to her, and leaned over for a close look at his face. It took a few moments, but a look of recognition soon shown clearly on her face when she realized that this man was the one who had caused her to trip and be caught, and the one that everyone thought was dead. Talbot. A small smirk and giggle escaped her before she spoke, "Well, look who it is. What happened to you? Everyone in your group here thinks you're dead."

Lumara on the other hand wasn’t drunk. Yet. But, at the same time, she was not sober. Then again, when was she ever? She always had some alcohol in her belly. It made her feel nice, and she didn’t have to go and feel sad ever again. Sometimes the sadness leaked through and she felt a little depressed, but she would not fall into a deep, black pit. No, drink was the best. Everyone there should drink. She would get her hands around each and every one of them, including that little red head and that so called thief. She did her routine and went back to the counter to get some more rum, and brought it back. Yeah, she wanted to get drunk. Which would take a very long while, but it was worth it. Then she could sleep it off, one way or another.

The man went to get another drink himself, and arrived as soon as she finished hers. Now was the time that she drank faster than most men. Lumara went back and forth a few times, switching her drinks from brandy to rum to whiskey to gin and back to brandy. Maybe she shouldn’t have actually drank all of those heavy drinks at once, but before she finished her umpteenth flagon of whiskey, she was already intoxicated from the heavy blush that was on her cheeks. She grinned at nothing that was going on around her- not that healer woman that was drinking cider or that man with the golden hair. She was grinning at the feeling that the alcohol had given her.

”So!” Lumara barked at Tihlas, grinning wildly at him. The liquor was getting her hyper. She was excited, she wanted to go and do something before she crashed and she would have to drink again. But this whole place seemed like fun! Who cared if they were in the middle of the desert? They could ride horses that were built for tearing through desert dunes and standing against sandstorms! Of course, they had a good chance of breaking their necks… But that made it even more thrilling! Or maybe she could show Tihlas how to fly Caius. Yet, the wyvern didn’t like it when she wasn’t in control of his steering… She stared at him, trying to get her words in order.

”What’cha wanna do now, eh? There’s so many things to do! So many things to see!” her logical self told her that they were in the middle of the desert and they really couldn’t do anything, but her current self shoved that aside. They could still have fun if they tried hard enough! ”We can go and get on some horses and have a race or something.” she waited for his reply.

---

Talbot heard nothing, but then he heard something fall on the ground with a yelp. So, it was a person. His heart began to beat faster, and he craned his neck further. He had to see who it was. If it was some Ylissean soldier, he had to get away. But all he saw was a small and feminine figure walking toward him. From the look of the colors she wore, she seemed familiar… especially when she was up close and talking to him. Ah, it was the thief. What exactly she had stolen, he didn’t remember, but he remembered that she had stolen something from the group before the army showed up. The corner of his lip curled into a smirk.

”You learned something today. I’m not easy to kill.” he told her, but his voice was light and airy, even when he spoke with all of the energy he could muster. His body prevented him from laughing, and he coughed, placing his head back on the pillow and looking up at the ceiling. Everyone believed that he was dead… and they seemed to be having such a nice time downstairs. He could dully hear laughing and shouting, but the words were slightly laced with the effects of drink. ”My whole… body hurts… I look… I must look horrible…” she sure felt horrible. His eyes darted around the room, before he remembered something.

”My… my things…” he gasped, trying to sit up. Yet, his body lashed back against the bed, making him groan loudly in pain. ”Where… are my tomes..? My… my lute...?” those things were precious to him. Music was in his heart, and magic was in his soul. If he had lost all of those things… he wouldn’t know what to do. He could very well have bought a new lute and tomes, but they weren’t the same. All of this belongings were given to him at a very young age. ”Where… where are they?” his voice was beginning to get desperate, and he tried to sit up again. Pain struck him down again, and he panted, laying on his back and looking at the thief.

He couldn’t say anything else. He could only pray that his items were safe. Sure, he would understand water damage, but if they were lost? He wouldn’t forgive himself. Talbot breathed roughly again, grabbing his chest and beginning to pull back the bandages. ”Where… where am I? I don’t know where I am!” it was normal for a person to have anxiety when they woke up from a sleep like he had. But he was ripping apart his bandaging, and that was bad for him. They were there for a reason, but Talbot didn’t give a fuck at the moment. He didn’t know where this things were, and he didn’t know where he was.

---

Darrian had begun to pack up to leave for Ylisstol, but word from the capital reached him before he could disembark. A small outbreak had occurred in the city, leaving its victims crippled under the influence of fever and dehydration. He was warned not to go back to the city, to stay with Lantus and Xanxus, and that was exactly what he was going to do. He remained with his men and elite generals, deciding that it would have been boring by himself, anyway. That was why he was hesitant in actually leaving. If he had gone, he would have to suffer under many suggestions of marriage and how he was supposed to handle this war.

His men seemed weary of eating nothing but snakes and other desert creatures, so he decided that they should stop at one of the many desert villages that dotted Plegia. It wasn’t as if he actually cared for his men—they could go and die for all of he cared. He would just recruit others. But he was tired of eating disgusting, scaly things and believed that he deserved a good chunk of meat with some ale.

The Plegian inn was small, so some of his army had to eat and drink outside. Darrian was the first to get his order and the first to actually sit down on the bench. Then came the battle for who got their food first and who got to sit down inside. Darrian chewed roughly on the leg of goat he had received from the innkeep, washing it down with swigs of the alcoholic beverage he had ordered. Ah, yes, this was what he wanted. They could rest her for a day, maybe two, and he would be able to eat the good kind of meat. But, of course, he would once again resort to eating those snakes and lizards once they leave. Oh well, at least he could just appreciate the situation at hand…

He turned to the noble brat who had interrupted him. No one with proper manners would have walked in and barged into a conversation. However, he was offering work. Kalar looked into his eyes, seeing the blue in it. He had slain many foes, but none had such eyes. None of the royals or commoners had this attribute. Neither did the soldiers. All they had was red in their eyes as they craved blood.

"How...nice of you to offer work. However, do you know who I am? If not, then the 'stranger act' will continue. This is for your own safety, I assure you."

He walked to the bench, his cloak hiding his features. His swords on his sides were barely noticeable, but, if one were to look closely, a hump could be seen on his back. It would move up and down with his step. The woman was still binge drinking as if there was no tomorrow. His eyes darted back to the kid.

"Now, what is the job, how much will you pay, and do not mention your name. It is never safe to mention such things in public, as words seem to enter the minds of men, corrupting them from within," Kalar says in a low voice, as the man would be the only one to hear him.

Seems like most of the people in this particular tavern were sad people who were trying to get drunk or dark, mysterious, dangerous mercenaries who were trying to scare a bartender into giving them a job. A weird bunch, Aelitha would have thought, but at the moment, she was too engrossed in her personal problems to really care. Her mug of cider was already empty even though she felt like another drink, but the girl restrained herself. She wanted to drink more of that non-alcoholic beverage, but ultimately, her pouch was shrinking from taking care of that freeloader. “Really,” she muttered to herself, “this investment better be worth it, or I'm seriously going to just strip him naked and pawn off his clothes before auctioning him off at some brothel or something.”

Not that she would actually do that, or even had the connections to, but it was fun to get angry and talk about pointless things that would never happen. Sighing and trying to lick off the last drop of cider in the bottom of the mug, the troubadour was just about to when a new arrival of the inn came him, a rich looking fellow who immediately took a seat beside the mysterious, dark, tall mercenary and offered him a job. Not even a job that involved bloodshed! Even though he was obviously a bloodthirsty person!

Slamming down the mug and standing up suddenly, the barstool pushed a few feet away by her spontaneous motion, Aelitha was just about to offer herself up for the job, before a commotion upstairs. Something along the lines of a young man suddenly yelling and asking for where he was, and where his tomes were. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, before running up the rotten wood stairs, stomping in her hurry. With heroic effort, the girl slide on the wooden boards towards the doorway of her room, shot a 'Don't expect any cheap heals from me in the future' towards the bitch slut thief that decided it was alright to break into her room, before grabbing her Mend Staff off the wall. Whatever had happened here, he was now trying to get up, panicking and ripping off his bandages. Wait no, not his bandages. They were HER bandages, that she paid with HER money, which were still good for at least another DAYS worth of use if it wasn't for her uncooperative patient getting all antsy and shit.

Swearing under her breath about how everything seems to be going to shit nowadays, Aelitha took in a deep breath before she knelt down by the bed. “I'll assume you know each other. If so, all this extra service is going onto your tab, burglar-girl.”

She placed one hand down on the man's chest and firmly applied pressure to his solar plexus, making sure he didn't do something as utterly retarded and rash as attempt to get upright after all his injuries. Then, the girl spoke, as calmly as she could, “You're at an inn right now, after experiencing a fall that broke your spine, your left arm, and three of your ribs, as well as fractured your skull and punctured your organs god-knows how many times. Luckily, I was nearby and managed to do enough healing that you survived your fall, and so far, I've been caring for you for the past few days. Your tomes are in my bag, but I have no idea where your loot is.”

Or, more specifically, if she knew where that man's loot was, she wouldn't be suffering from financial problems so badly. And she was probably grossly exaggerating the extent of his injuries, but eh, it wasn't like anyone else was there to prove her wrong. All they knew was that she was an exceptional healer, and Aelitha was totally fine with that super positive assessment of herself.

“So, seeing how you're finally conscious, mind telling me what's happened, Sleeping Beauty?”

As she spoke, Aelitha used her Mend Staff, reknitting any wounds that may have been opened during that sudden exchange, a pale green light wrapping around the mage. Though that too was just for show, mainly. He didn't try walking yet, after all.

Talbot waited for the thief to answer his questions when someone else came in. Her voice sounded very familiar... was this the woman that had saved him? If he were in a better situation, he would have laughed and joked about it, but he was under extreme pain at the moment. He ground his teeth and muttered a prayer under his breath, begging Naga to help make the pain go away. Perhaps he would have been better dead, instead of wrapped up like a corpse in bed. His brown eyes darted over to the healer woman as she told him what had happened. His heart plummeted to his stomach when she said his back had snapped. Did... that mean... no, it couldn't mean that he couldn't walk again. He had just moved. He was pretty sure that, if he had lost the ability to walk, he wouldn't have moved in the first place.

"I was... defending the rest from the army... and I led them to a cliff edge... the one I fell from..." he coughed. "It's obvious what happened next...

He looked away, toward the wall. There was nothing else to say. What could he say? He had blacked out soon after falling into the water. He didn't even remember getting here. But if the thief was there, then the rest of the Shepherds were there, and that meant he was safe. At least... he'd like to think of it that way... "My lute has to be here. It was on me when I fell. It's very important to me." he forced himself to speak louder now. The little guitar like instrument was one that he had for what seemed like ages. It was just as precious as his tomes. "Please tell me you fished it out."

Tihlas may not have drank as much liquor as Lumara, but he'd had enough in the time that she did to developed a blush of his own. Right as he finished a flagon of whiskey she asked him what he wanted to do now. The horse race was appealing, though he'd never ridden a horse for more than a a few hundred meters. "Alright, horse race it is!' Ge got up a bit shakily, having been leaning over a fair bit, "What'll we do after that, then?"

This would become the second time he's been so drunk, and he may still get even more so. It was interesting to him, that he'd meet a woman that could drink so much and be so cheery when she got drunk. Then a thought occurred to him, [b]"But we don't have any horses to take..." This last bit was said a bit quieter, to where only Lumara would hear it. They only had one horse and that belonged to a cavalier in the group.

---

Misani cocked her head to the side as he spoke, "Apparently not. And you do look kinda terrible..." Then he started asking about his things, which she assumed were all in the bags in the corner. But before she could say anything, he began having some sort of panic or anxiety attack, which made her back up warily and think about whether or not to leave or try to calm him down.

It was then that a woman entered the room, a easily irritating, aggravating, and selfish healer by the looks of it. She went to Talbot and said something about Misani owing money, "Nope, I don't know him. I've only seen him once before." And the healer began telling Talbot her side of the story, of how she found him and how she'd been taking care of him the past few days and told him she had his tomes. Misani walked over to the bag and resisted the urge to start digging through it, "Yep, your tomes are in here."

It was then that Talbot said what happened to him, and Misani, for some reason, couldn't stop herself from giggling a little, which was very uncharacteristic for her, "I doubt it was that simple, maybe when you're better you will tell exactly what happened and how it happened." Then he said something else about his lute, and how important it was to him. Was it the same lute that she had... Yep, it was, she'd found it in a stream and stuck it in her bag when the others weren't looking. She'd planned to try selling it, but now she thought of another use for it."I know where your lute is, but you're gonna have to do something for me to get it back."

The army, was it? As she did her for-show healing that was serving more to pacify her patient than actually heal him of any injuries he may have sustained, Aelitha started to put ideas together. This Talbot, then, was acting as a diversion for the rest of his comrades, before the army he was taunting eventually sent him over the cliff. The healer wasn't certain regarding the details of that diversion, because it really was quite a silly idea for a WHOLE army to be occupied with the chasing of a single mage, but whatever. If he was a Shepherd and the army was lead by the Exalt Darrian, that was to be expected. The man never seemed like the sharpest sword in the armory. Thankfully he was the one in power, not one of his generals.

The thief-girl was stil there, and there was still talk about the man's loot. A mage that was just as money-hungry as Aelitha then. If he was a few years younger and a few degrees cuter, she might have had to drop him off to some apothecary instead of lug him around with her. Mixing up private life with personal life was a dangerous thing to do on the road of a Troubadour, after all. She stood up as the warm light faded from the tip of her staff, before setting it aside, the Mend Staff now leaning against a window.

Welp, seems like the thief-girl would know something about that man's loot, if nothing else.

“Mind getting out and spreading the word that the dead has risen after you're done your business negotiations, thief-girl? He should still be sleeping, and I'd prefer not to use any sedatives if he goes into another panic attack over stressful extortions.”

God, if this was back in a civilized town, Aelitha could totally just yell something about someone breaking and entering into an inn room with the intent of stealing, but nope, this was a backwater, out-of-the-loop town in Plegia, with no hope of an actual military force. How annoying. How upsetting. How...eh, actually, she didn't care.

After all, now she knew where the Shepherds were, and that information by itself was pretty nice to have for a mercenary.

"Convenient, don't you think?"

Xanxus, with his feet resting atop of the table, jested with his arms folded, leaning back in his chair. Unlike Darrian and the soldiers who were stuffing themselves with food and drink after days of feeding on what they called disgusting edible alternatives, he simply kicked back and relaxed. He lacked an appetite at the moment, but whenever a hunger festered within his stomach, he ate enough to feed three men. He watched Darrian with lazy eyes, forgetting just how much his friend loved alcohol. After he was arranged to be wed with Darrian's relative weeks ago with the ceremony to occur in time, he stormed out of the Ylissean palace and refused to reside in the luxurious castle any longer. He already disliked the fact that he was being forced to marry Darrian's cousin, and his friend's reasoning only made him resent the whole situation even more. "The capital under quarantine from some illness, just as you were preparing to leave. Fairly... coincidental."

Although Xanxus couldn't quite place his finger on it, something seemed strange about the apparent epidemic that ravaged the capital in sickness just as Darrian was about to return. Its timing just seemed out of place, and for all he knew, Ylisstol had always been clean of illness and never had a history of such. In the midst of his thoughts, the innkeeper wobbled over to their table in a nervous sweat while he held his hands behind his back, slightly bowing in a gesture of 'respect'. The sight of this disgusted him; not because this was a Plegian, but just the gesture itself. "I hope you're enjoying yourselves, good sirs. Do you want a drink?"

"No," Xanxus replied. "I don't drink much."

Lumara laughed when Tihlas said what they would do after the horse race. The woman had something in mind, but it was just too funny and weird to actually tell him what she was planning. Yet, he said that they had no horses. Her smile faded and she frowned at him childishly, almost seeming as if she were about to cry. Her eyes were wide and eyes furrowed. She actually didn’t think that there wouldn’t be horses to ride… and it made her feel depressed. Her shoulders sagged and she returned to leaning against the wall. It’s so boring… she sighed, crossing her arms as neatly as she could and glowering ahead at the doorway. They had potential to have fun and it was ruined by reality.

”What can we do? We have no horses and if we steal some, we’ll get in trouble…” she told Tihlas. ”I mean, what else is there to do?” of course, she had gone dry for… what. The amount of time they had been running. Either everyone was afraid to actually exert energy in rutting around in the bushes, or she wasn’t trying as hard. Which meant that she would have to try harder. Lumara sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Well, at least she had her sight set on what she wanted to do… but that would mean leaving Tihlas out of the action. In her drunken state, she actually cared about leaving her drunk buddy behind. And she knew exactly what she was going to do to bring him along.

Her eyes darted back to Tihlas, and she grinned broadly. ”I suddenly have an idea of what we can do… and it involves the both of us…” she purred in a very seductive voice, walking over to her new friend and touching his chest. Her playful look had grown dark and her grin had become shady. There was no reason why Tihlas wouldn’t be getting the message. Her posture, the tone of her voice… it all signaled out her longing for someone to be in bed with her, even if it was just for the night. Maybe it was all going too fast; they could just borrow some horses from the Plegians.

No, Lumara knew what she wanted, and she didn’t want to ride stupid horses. Not now, anyway. And if she wanted to ride something, she could very well ride Caius. But Caius was sleeping somewhere where he wouldn’t catch the public’s eye. If he curled himself up enough he looked like a large brown rock. Perfect for blending in with the desert landscape. She attempted to grab his collar and bring him close, her smile becoming more and more mischievous. Lumara hoped that she hadn’t scared him away. If she had, she would have to search for someone else, probably drunker than Tihlas.

---

At least the Mend was working. He grunted, slight pain radiating across his body, until the green light at the edge of the staff faded. The Troubadour girl had been healing him with that staff, then. Talbot wanted to thank her, until that thief spoke up. She said something about his lute, how she knew where it was, and that he had to do something for her to get it back. At that, his anger flared—mind you, Talbot’s anger almost never got the hold of him. However, this thief woman was saying that she had something precious to him, and was keeping it hostage. His eyes blazed with an ignited fire as he glowered at her.

”Give. Me. My. Lute. Back.” he growled out the words through gritted teeth, his dark brows furrowing as he began to sit up again. Even though the Mend had worked, pain still licked up and down his spine as if someone had dropped burning oil on it. Wincing, he laid back against the bed and put an arm over his eyes. This arm had not been broken, but it was still sore from the impact of the water against his body. Yet, words still escaped his lips. ”If you don’t, I will hex you. Don’t test me.” Talbot was a sorcerer, yes, but he had one fatal flaw—he disliked using Dark Tomes. There was a reason for it, but he would never explain it to anyone.

His lute though. That was what was at hand at the moment. That woman with the staff didn’t understand what he was saying, and the woman that did had a heart as dark as Darrian’s. He removed his arm from over his eyes and scowled deeply at the two women. ”That instrument is dear to me. Give it back!” his voice cracked with pain at the end of his shout, but he was pretty sure that he got the point across. His eyes blazed at Misani and Aelitha. ”Naga help me, I’ll use your bodies as sacrifices for a summoning.”

Empty words, but still fearful ones. Talbot’s lute was something he held close to his heart, and the thief woman was keeping it hostage. He went to touch his head when he suddenly felt nothing but his skin on his scalp. Faltering, he stared at the Troubadour. ”… my… hair… where is it?” he gaped at her, horrified at the new discovery. Had… she shaved him bald? He had liked his hair the way it was! And now, he probably looked like some dumb pervert… it would take ages for his hair to grow back to that length again! Well, not ages, but it would certainly feel that way with people laughing at his baldness.

---

Looking up from his meal, the Exalt looked at his friend. The man had kicked his feet up and crossed his arms, seeming very comfortable in his position. He certainly wished that he could act like him, but surely men would talk of his inadequate behavior back at home. Darrian could not risk that, for his advisors would be even stricter with him. ”Don’t slump over when you eat,” they would scold as he leaned over his breakfast, ”A lord should not take on such an appearance when at his meals.” If I wanted to be treated like a child, I would have let my mother teach me proper behavior. he thought as he rolled his eyes.

”You don’t think that the disease has not spread naturally? That someone has been controlling it?” he questioned lazily, swirling the drink in his flagon and glancing down at the dull liquid. ”Maybe that’s the case, or it’s just coincidental. What matters is that I’m still here, and if there was someone manipulating the sickness, they have failed in their mission.” he chuckled, taking another bite of the meat and chewing on it ravenously. He allowed his eyes to travel over the room, eyeing his men as they enjoyed their meals and drinks. Darrian wanted to make sure that none of the soldiers did anything idiotic.

The innkeep came over and asked if they wanted something to drink. Darrian liked the fact that he actually took the time to bow. Yes, that pleased him. It was sad that not many other peasants performed the curtsy. ”I would love some more of this brandy.” he told the man, holding out his flagon. However, when Xanxus said that he didn’t drink a lot, he glanced at him in alarm. ”Innkeep, please, don’t listen to my good friend here. He seems to have some sort of fever.” he explained, looking rather grave. ”Get him some of that brandy you have. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Darrian’s attitude had wavered a bit due to his drink. As everyone knew, he was a bitter, immature man who thought he deserved all of the power in the world. That one drink had made him calmer, mellower. The man clapped his hand on Xanxus’s shoulder, laughing a bit. ”Come now, you have to have a drink or two. It’s a nice form of stress relief.” he told the general, leaning a bit back in his seat.

"What can we do? We have no horses and if we steal some, we'll get in trouble... I mean, what else is there to do?" Tihlas leaned against a wall and finished his drink when she said that, trying to think of something fun to do. They could just have a regular race on foot, but that wasn't very appealing. He couldn't really think of anything else that they could do to have fun, he'd even forgotten about the rest of the group.

Then Lumara shot a broad grin towards him, "I suddenly have an idea of what we can do... and it involves the both of us..." The voice she used to say this caused Tihlas to raise an eyebrow. She walked over and touched his chest, making him look down then back up to her, seeing that a playful look grew dark and shady. Everything she was doing, from posture to voice, told him that she wanted someone in bed with her.

Then, she grabbed his collar and brought him close, he let her do so. He paused close to her face, a blank look on his face. Why should he do it... Why not? A small smirk appearing on his face for a split second, he leaned the rest of the way and kissed her for a moment.

---

Well, that wasn't very nice, he had just threatened to hex her, and over a lute? Must be pretty important for him to elicit such a reaction so quickly. He didn't even think once about what she may have wanted in return for getting it back. "Should you really be threatening me like that? If anything were to happen to me, then ho-" She was cut off by his speaking again.

Then came the second round of threats, this time including the Troubadour in it as well. While they were fearful ones, she knew right away that they were empty words. She let out a indignant 'hmph', now wondering if it was even worth it to get this guy to talk to her. Then he brought his hand up up to discover that he was bald, which she hadn't noticed before either, and his reaction to that made her fall to the floor in a fit of giggles and short, quiet laughter. After a bit, she sat up, deciding it best to tell him outright what she wanted him to do for her to give him back his lute, "All I want is for you to talk to someone for me, that's it. After that, you can have your precious lute back."

"That's if there even is a disease going around in Ylisstol," Xanxus suggested, no difference in his tone of voice or sitting position. As much as he was skeptical about the sole messenger and apparent situation occurring within the capital, there was truly not a single shred of care in him. Maybe death would teach those greedy people a lesson. Raising a brow at Darrian, he shook his head as his friend advised the innkeeper to bring more brandy to their table, though, insisting that he too would indulge in the drinking. "It's been awhile since I've drank with you. With all those women, it didn't go so well last time."

Xanxus gave off a dagger of a glare as Darrian giddily patted him on the shoulder and continued to urge the man to drink, having only seen this part of his friend ever so rarely. He sighed, finally deciding to let himself loose for the sake of his friend, setting his feet back to the ground and sitting normally as the innkeeper quickly returned with more brandy. He took up the flagon and quickly peered into its contents, groaned as he took a big swig. He hadn't immediately felt the effects of the brandy yet since he was exceptionally tolerant to alcohol, but enough of these and he would soon become one of those idiots that were scattered all among the rest of the tables. "Might as well forget about my marriage arrangement with Verte, I don't favor becoming nobility."

pyre101 said
He turned to the noble brat who had interrupted him. No one with proper manners would have walked in and barged into a conversation. However, he was offering work. Kalar looked into his eyes, seeing the blue in it. He had slain many foes, but none had such eyes. None of the royals or commoners had this attribute. Neither did the soldiers. All they had was red in their eyes as they craved blood. "How...nice of you to offer work. However, do you know who I am? If not, then the 'stranger act' will continue. This is for your own safety, I assure you." He walked to the bench, his cloak hiding his features. His swords on his sides were barely noticeable, but, if one were to look closely, a hump could be seen on his back. It would move up and down with his step. The woman was still binge drinking as if there was no tomorrow. His eyes darted back to the kid."Now, what is the job, how much will you pay, and do not mention your name. It is never safe to mention such things in public, as words seem to enter the minds of men, corrupting them from within," Kalar says in a low voice, as the man would be the only one to hear him.

Laius resisted the urge to groan at the man's 'dark and mysterious' act, but he decided to go along with it. "Frankly, I don't really care what your name is. You attract more flies with honey than vinegar, though. You might get more customers if you stop trying to scare everyone around you." He looked to the innkeerp, who seemed to be listening in to their conversation. "If you'd be as kind, I'd like a tankard of cider and a bowl of stew." He requested in a friendly, charming manner as not to seem rude to the chubby man. He nodded, disappearing to fetch the requested items from the back. With the owner of the establishment gone, the rather charismatic prince returned his attention to the silver haired mercenary whom he was about to do business with. He reached under his cloak, into what one would assume was a satchel. He rustled about inside the satchel and removed something. Something he then revealed to the mercenary. Two large squares of gold. Bullions from the castle's treasury. If he recalled correctly, each of these chunks of gold was worth one thousand coins each.

"I had no intention of sharing my name. The mysterious mercenary act is old, the mysterious employer one is golden." He placed one of the bars on the table, sliding it towards the mercenary, pocketing the other. "I need passage to Regna Ferox. Then I need to return to Plegia's capital city. With the Ylisseans combing the country side and brigands looking to prey on possible refugees, I expect resistance. You get one half payment now, one when we return." The inn keeper returned with a bowl of some kind of boiled meat and veg and a metal tankard filled with what he assumed was hard cider. He didn't much enjoy commoner food and drink, but it would do. "Thank you, my man." He reached to his satchel once more, tossing a couple coins to the older gentleman before his eyes slid towards his soon to be guardian, gauging his reaction.

Lumara smirked again, gazing at the man that she had chosen to be her prey. Tihlas didn’t know what was coming for him. She was an… exotic one, to say the least. That was why she loved practicing on people such as this. Tihlas was drunk, and he hardly knew her. Of course, she would make him get off her back when she was done with him. After this bout of bodily contact, she would pretend he never existed and nothing ever happened between them. The blond woman kissed him back when he had, and giggled. ”Oh, seem to be eager, eh?” she teased, starting to pull him upstairs. It was then that she picked out a room that was unoccupied and shoved him onto the bed, leaping on top of him like some sort of ravenous wild animal.

…

Lumara was curled up under the sheets, eyes closed and her face tucked into the pillow. She wavered between sleep and consciousness, sometimes being more awake than asleep. The woman had enjoyed herself thoroughly with Tihlas, and now she was beat. That guy had been fun to play with… even if she didn’t know him much. Lumara had nothing to worry about, however. It was all just for fun. She yawned, snuggling into the pillow some more.

---

Darrian frowned, almost in anger, when Xanxus began to refuse the drink. The Exalt prince sighed, running a hand through his hair. The man seemed to be annoyed at his action, but at the end, Xanxus took up a flagon and began to drink. Good, this was very good. At least he had a proper drinking partner. Darrian disliked drinking with his army because they all crowded around women and he could hardly see the lady that had gained their attention. That was why he spent time away from his men, and instead hung around Xanxus. He raised his flagon and took a swig as big as his friend’s, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

”Verte? She’s not really that bad. I believe that she’s quite into you.” Darrian nudged his friend and smirked deviously. ”The arrangement was to strengthen ties between royal blood and the army. I don’t care if you don’t like her, as long as she doesn’t find out you’re in bed with other women and ruin the relationship.” he drank deeply from the cup again, and sighed. ”But I didn’t tell you to drink me just so you could bring up Verte. Tell me, how have you been fairing lately?”

Okay, maybe that was pushing it. Darrian didn’t want seem like the sort of person who wanted to delve into Xanxus’s feelings. Yet, he simply wanted to make conversation.

Listening to the boy's request, Kalar looked at the two gold bullions with little interest. He had no interest in gold, as he knew the harm of it, but to do a service without payment would not suffice. He turned back to his new client, curious to know if he was either a thief or in disguise. But, Kalar was a professional; after getting the money, who he worked for was of no concern.

"Youth, you have acquired my sword. I accept your request. I leave at your command."

He walked over to the table and grabbed a chair.

"However, to go such a distance, you will require supplies to survive. Also, if you want to go fast, you will want a horse. Have you acquired such things?

Neo stared at the fire. He'd been in the position ever since the group arrived at the inn. Usually he placed his body so it was ready for a quick exit and he could watch everyone, but after the last skirmish the group faced, he lost himself in the flames instead. One finger circled the rim of his mug, a weak ale he was drinking slowly just so he could do something with himself. He couldn't take over the group. He didn't need to lead another battalion again. Someone younger had to learn. With a sigh Neo took a couple gulps and grimaced. The ale was garbage, but hopefully some of it would take effect shortly. Looking around he could see the other companions here or there. Leon was a table away, done with the first half dozen drinks and showing some signs of it. Trin wasn't far away either, sitting alone and writing in her journal. Knowing where those two were gave Neo a small measure of peace as he attempted to down the drink. At the same time a lot of shouting could be heard downstairs. He didn't bother asking if the others heard it, as he didn't truly care about it at the moment either.

Although the taste wasn't pleasant, Neo was disappointed when it ended. Getting another drink from the barmaid, he ordered some bread and cheese as well. Not eating wouldn't solve anything, so he may as well be a miserable bitch with a full stomach. The bread arrived quickly and Neo was just as quick to rip off a piece and begin eating.

---

That was when Leon turned from his seventh drink with a look of annoyance on. "Guess Lumara isn't an option tonight." he muttered, looking up the stairs where his companions drifted off to. Finishing off the next mug Leon picked up a piece of Neo's bread and chewed it slowly, an unhappy expression on. "This bread ain't that great, huh? Oh..." the barmaid came by at that exact moment. "Sorry about that.... " he said, looking sheepishly at his empty drink, wondering if he could still get a refill. Pointing the empty mug at his brother, Leon sighed. "I told you we shoulda left this group before that river crossing. If we left then we wouldn't still be in harms way right now. Besides this being a depressing ride, we keep losing people at a slow rate. This is no way to go about with ex military...." Leon continued to grumble on about random topics, but Neo at least knew it was only because he wasn't getting anything in the sack this evening that was really bugging the Dark Knight.

---

Trin continued to write the groups recent travels down in her book, only pausing briefly to get a bowl of some sort of soup before she continued writing. The warmth of the liquid felt good, even if it was fleeting. Her Style switched from writing to drawing after her first mouthful of soup, deciding that a few moments to relax wouldn't hurt her. Instead
she began to sketch magical runes all over the book, creating odd patterns. A hum began to escape her lips, the enjoyable process distracting her for a few minutes. Her sketching began to slow at one point, almost stopping completely as she fell into a daydream. A feeling of flying took over her imagination, bringing a smile to her face. Then there was a sudden drop that woke her in a second and caused her to jump from her seat. Standing up straight with her notbook on the floor, Trin blushed profusely before kneeling to find all of the papers that scattered.

Logan hummed with barely contained glee as he stalked swiftly through the night, his eyes darting brightly forward and back as he looked for the nearest drinking hole to look over his most recent 'acquisition'. He clutched the package tightly to his chest, his lips breaking open into a grin as he noted a inn, with possible drink and warmth inside. The dark mage slid neatly up to the entrance to the building, savoring the dry Plegian air for a single moment, before sliding inside with a quiet laugh of triumph.

As he crossed the threshold, Logan paused momentarily to observe the room as a whole, noting a particularly interesting duo at the bar proper. The grin that was plastered across the pale man's face only grew wider at the tantalizing thought of even more knowledge to be acquired. With another, rather disturbed sound of barely contained giddiness, he bounced over to a free corner of the room, unraveling the suspicious package as he went. A faint smell of charred leather and burnt paper followed as the bindings fell open to reveal a red tome in a bad state of dis-repair, the scorched cover barely showing a embedded flame. Logan sat down with a resounding thud as he peeled open the delicate pages, his unnerving smile growing even wider as his unhealthy gaze darted over the sigils contained within.

At least Ambra isn't neglecting herself, Vel thought as she stirred the soup she had ordered. And she feels more useful than I do right now, that's certain.

Vellia just sat at a table in the tavern, minding her own business, but not completely oblivious to what was going on around her. There had been a familiar voice shouting, but Vel couldn't put a name to it.

A familiar voice shouting . . . she would figure it out eventually. She downed another couple spoonfuls of soup, and was about to join Neo at his table when the voice shouted again.

Who? . . . Could that be? . . . But I thought . . . Vellia's mind was racing at the idea. No, it's got to be your mind playing tricks on you, Vel. There's no possible way he survived. But maybe, just in case . . .

Vellia slipped up the stairs--forgetting her soup and her stomach at this point--to wait and see if she could recognize the voice again from any of the rooms. She didn't want to intrude on anyone, but could it be possible that he survived and made his way to this same inn? It seemed too good to be true, but she had to make sure. That voice had become one she learned quickly, but anything that sounded even remotely similar would have startled her. She had to hear to be sure that what the voice was saying would line up.

Xanxus disliked Verte.
They had only met twice before Darrian went and decided that they would've apparently looked appealing to the country as a wedded couple; her, a member of the royal family, and him, an 'outsider' who rose from preferred obscurity to unwanted prominence in a single duel. It was almost like one of those love stories that parents and elderly folk enjoyed infecting the youth with, and he knew that Darrian just wanted to give the people a show. As if Darrian wasn't putting on a show for them already.

"How have I been fairing lately?" Xanxus reiterated, having already swept through two more flagons of brandy that a waitress frequently came by to refill. He rubbed his eyes and took another swig, washing away another figment of reality. "Before now, killing a bunch of weaklings called Shepherds. I ran into that brother I talked about before. You know, the bean sprout."

---

"I've had enough,"

Zaino was dreaming like before, but this time, the only sense he could rely on was sound. Pale darkness clouded his eyes, though the sounds were fairly clear, as if its owner stood before him, concealed by the shadows. "It's his fault that they're all dead, himself included! We're the only ones left!"

"Stop," Another unfamiliar voice, belonging to a man, interjected the other. "Now's not the time to get angry. We need to recuperate, find the other survivors, and come back to the mainland."

"Are you blind?" The enraged voice howled, almost as if it was pained to continue speaking. "Do you really believe that? You saw it with your own eyes! There is nothing to come back to!"

"Where there's life, there's hope. We might've lost everything, but we can keep fighting back. We will prevail."

"Yeah, keep lying to yourself like he did to us. I don't care anymore," The man seemed to calm down, though his rough manner of speech and hint of aggression ceased to relent. "Fight and prevail or not, I've only one enemy. I'm done sitting back like a coward, like how I let a scoundrel like him take lead and march into that massacre. With nothing left to live for, at least I've now got something I can die for."

The other man sighed. "Then I guess I don't have a choice but to join you in your suicide mission, then? That's what friends are for, right?"

"Whatever."

---

And once more, Zaino awoke beneath the blanket of an inn bed in a cold sweat, his forehead pounding. He no longer felt famished or the arid dryness of his throat, unsure of what had happened. He had went unconscious after Ambra tended to him again. He wondered if all of that had been a dream as well, and if all of them had been part of a large hallucination from the hunger and exhaustion.

And so, it turned out that the people were real.
Zaino could hear noises from the wall that his bedside sat against, able to decode a female's voice as the drunkard he had pushed earlier. He blinked twice for a moment before realizing what was actually going on in the other room, cringing slightly. So this is what she was talking about...

"How indecent." Zaino shook his head, lying back down and finding that sleep refused to accept his request of escape.

Darrian listened to the general, having finished his meal and swirling the brandy in his flagon in thought. So, he had met that brother that he claimed was a “bean sprout”. Ah, sprouts were so weak. Sure, they represented a budding life, green and filled with energy. Little sprouts could slip in between cracks of pavement such as cobblestone. Yet... that small, weak life could be ended by a large boot. That was how Xanxus treated his younger brother. However, he did not invite his friend to drink so they could argue. He took another swig from his flagon and sighed. I really want him dead. That one person seems to have guts, and those types must always have their head cut first.

”Interesting. I wish I had a younger brother. My father did not get my mother with child after myself. Then again, I suppose that I’m lucky. If I had a younger brother, I would have more competition for the throne.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and gazing at the ceiling. It even had cracks and he worried that it would collapse on them. ”Though, on my current path, I will have just as much competition. Lantus thinks that there will soon be bastards squabbling for position as Exalt. Imagine, Xanxus! Imagine a bastard in my place!” he laughed loudly, shaking his head and drowning the noise with the brandy. The waitress came over and he asked for whiskey this time.

Though, Lantus’s words of warning moved him, if just a little bit. It was true—if he were to die in battle, the throne would be left to whoever could take it and was of Exalt blood. Darrian didn’t want some nobody taking it. If he had to give it up to a mellow little bastard, he would rather give it over to Lantus or Xanxus. Maybe he should get married. He didn’t have to love his queen. He could still have concubines, even if he couldn’t use them as much. And, that way, he could train his son or daughter to think like him, act like him. Darrian could die in peace knowing that someone almost as worthy as him was sitting in his place.

”You know,” Darrian sighed, a troubled look coming across his face as he pulled the lip of the flagon from his mouth. ”Lantus wants me to marry. Says that I’m at a risk.” he placed the cup against his lips again, tipping his head back and downing the rest of the whiskey. He called for another and began to sip at that one. ”I guess I can imagine myself in bed with a proper woman of proper blood, giving me a true blooded heir.” he thought this out loud, looking at his reflection in his drink. ”I wonder who it’ll be. I hope it isn’t some arranged marriage with an ugly woman that I’ve never heard of before.”

---

Ambra smiled at Vellia as she left, but said smile faded when she was left alone again. Taking the second pomegranate, she sliced it open, watching the juice flow from her finger tips and patter onto the floor. Well, maybe she was meant to be alone. Maybe she always meant to be alone, even if she would only speak when she healed wounds and told said person not to move. She sighed, only slightly enjoying the fruit before she heard rather… disturbing sounds coming from the next room. Blushing, she got up and left her room, closing the door and wandering away from the sound. Disgusting. How women can just throw their bodies around, I’ll never know. she shook her head and continued on her way.

The red haired woman paused only when she passed Zaino’s room and saw him stir, a few words coming from him. He seemed well, and the news pleased her. Her treatments were working. Then again, Zaino was a stronger man, one who was stubborn and fierce. He had fought against the effects of poison for who knows how long before she found him. She stepped into the room and smiled sheepishly, hoping she wouldn’t be yelled at. ”Hello, Zaino.” she greeted, her grip on the fruit squeezing slightly and making the juice flow again. She cursed internally, smile wavering. ”I hope I’m not intruding. I’ve just come to see if you’re well.”

Ambra stepped into Zaino’s room, looking around and sniffing lightly. It smelled like herbs and dirt. Ugh, the staff could try harder with cleaning up this place. Just because they didn’t have much money didn’t mean that they couldn’t clean. ”You woke up with all of the noise? I’m worried that the others will, too.” she stood at the foot of his bed and allowed her eyes to look over his body, even if for a moment. At least the color had somewhat returned to his skin. As long as he drank water and ate, his strength would return to him soon. ”I mean, I left my room to get away from it, but it seems just as bad here.”

She pulled up a little stool and sat near him, but not to close as to make him uncomfortable—or so she hoped. She didn’t want to make him angry. He had the strength of a lion when he was in battle, and that was when he was severely wounded. She didn’t want to be his practice target when he was well. ”I have some of this fruit. Want some? You eat the seeds inside. They’re covered in red stuff that’s good for you.” she offered half of the pomegranate and offered another smile. Maybe he could be a friend. And, even though she didn’t mean to be selfish, if she were to gain his friendship, he could be one of the men who defended her. Being an archer wasn’t an easy job.