"You heard the good doctor, elf. We all deserve a short break after the whole debacle!" Groaning from all the pain and fatigue, Yvonne forced herself up to find the pouch Solomon mentioned. A bit hard doing work with one arm mostly fucked, but she can pour water on it. The cold liquid felt nice to the burned surfaces.

She still need to cut herself out of the mail shirt at some point. It had melted rather badly.

"Dont be so grumpy now, most of us got shafted bad back there." A shove sent ruined plates and breakfast off the central table, clearing a room to place the healing supplies. "Show me where it hurt the worst. Gotta take care of each other now, yeah?"

The intention was to bring the chair to the antechamber and, as silly as it sounded, to help her have a good footing while climbing up.
But then Solomon was there, tending to everyone's wounds and he did not appreciate the additional ruckus.

“Jazdia, Yvonne. In my pouch there is one last container of some pain salve, medicated ointment to promote healing, and some bandages. Take the canteen and clean your wounds with the water. Patch what you can, and where you cannot, I will tend to you. Allow me to see what I can do for Cedar first.”

The elf shrugged, "No, really, don't mind me. As you said, Cedar needs more of your attention." Still dragging her chair, but with less friction than before, Jazdia eyed the Bear man and gave him a thumb-up. "You did good, pal!"

There was an eery silence after she voiced her refusal.

“Jazdia. I will not accept your nonchalant behavior." Solomon insisted in a low tone. He was still tending to the bear, but the voice felt direct, concerned in a way that makes you feel the urge to explain yourself with an unconvincing excuse.

"Please take care of yourself, keep yourself rested," he said again. "There is no further need to exert. Stay here. Petra should be escorting the prince down shortly.”

So the key has been unlocked and the runes encrypted. That was one less loose end indeed, but Jazdia's objective was to find something she could use to wrap this case up nicely when they deliver the prince. The urgency to collect the item was immediate, but the elf had no way to explain it quickly.

"You heard the good doctor, elf. The Rosenving daughter added, though the 'elf' part was not necessary. We all deserve a short break after the whole debacle!"

"That's very nice of you all. Fine, what's the harm anyway?" she said with some sarcasm left and then took the salve from Solomon's pouch and nothing else. Other than that, she had her own supply of first aid kit.

The clattering sound of falling cutlery and thrashed porcelain sounded like a grimacing invitation, but she realized that the sacred table manner had been thrown out of the window long ago when Asevor initiated his unsophisticated spell against them. And thus now the long table was just a piece of wood for her to sit.

"Show me where it hurt the worst. Gotta take care of each other now, yeah?"

"Show it, huh? Here? Now? Heh, fine."

Jazdia only delayed for a mere second before unbuttoning her ruined vest and undershirt and placing them on the table, leaving only the brassiere to preserve her modesty. Burn marks stretched from her shoulder blades, collarbones, and shoulder down to her arms, and upper back. Some other was on the side of her midriff, along with bruises, and lastly, on her fingers and both palms.

"Should I take this off too?" she asked again, pinching the strap of her upper undergarment.

---

Solomon only offered a slight glance in Jazdia’s direction, watching as both she and Yvonne were patching each other up. He sighed as he turned back to face the dirtied bear. He had no where enough water to properly clean Cedar off, so he had to make due with the rain soaked rags and curtains that laid around the area. He made sure to act gentle, trying not to disturb the bear too much as his massive chest rose and fell with some labored but otherwise welcomed breaths of still air.

Solomon set the bears limbs as correctly as he could, though he struggled with awkward size and weight of them. He tied splints around his legs which were obviously broken if not severely fractured. Although the wind kept the bear dancing against his will, it helped to support the bear’s weight minimizing the damage on his bones. It was difficult to tell how much damage Cedar sustained during his dance, his hair was tough, matted with mud, and soaked with rain. It wasn’t much, but Solomon was sure he at least kept Cedar from further harm in his current condition. At least he would be asleep more comfortably without the pressure to his extremities causing further discomfort.

Solomon stood back up, as it were only time could heal the bear. Or until Cedar recovered enough to use his healing magic. For now, he should be able to sleep soundly and regain his strength. Looking at Cedar though, Solomon felt a twinge guilt. He kept his distance, directing those bound to him rather than participate in the battle itself. Meanwhile, Cedar was commanding a torrential downpour which quickly took control out of Cedar’s hands. Solomon bowed his head, realizing that sometimes, that is the name of the game.

Solomon turned to see how the other’s were fairing. Reinhold was now breathing steadily, and Guard captain Matilda leaned against the near wall, silently observing the others. Veronica nearby mostly unharmed watched over them. Chounan was sitting nearby as well, yet his posture indicated he would be ready to engage as necessary. His unwavering devotion to his creed was evident. Still, it was obvious that he was working against injury of his own. Solomon walked over to him, stepping over the various acid corroded and water soaked debris scattered across the floor, though the edges of his garb dragged through the puddles of water.

“It appears you may have over exerted your arms.” said Solomon, as he examined the former samurai’s appendage. He looked at his hand that still held the salve container. Most of it was gone save for a few globs at the edges of the container. Solomon dipped his fingers into the contained, scraping up as much of the remainder as he could before applying it to Chounan. The salve would burn over the minor cuts and scrapes, but the pain relief of his muscles would outweigh the temporary discomfort.

“This will help with the tenderness, but you only need to rest your arms and relax.”

Solomon then gave a look to Veronica. It was a knowing glance. She didn’t need much if any extra care, she done her part masterfully, showing great skill in her own right in the battle. Solomon turned to see how Yvonne and Jazdia were doing. Considering her close Jazida was to both the acid fog and her own fiery explosion the extent of the burns across her torso was to be expected. He only got a glimpse before during the fight, but now that she sat mostly undressed, it was clear to see how much she had to endure to keep the pressure on Asevor. There was also Yvonne, and how her side was burned as well, the links of her chain mail fused together restricting movement. It probably also caused her pain if she attempted to move against the newly reformed metal touching her skin. Yet despite these injuries, the two seemed to be in higher spirits, which was nice to see. They might be familiar with the ins and outs of conflict, battle, and sustained their share of harm through their career, it was pleasant to see them in good moral.

____
Silas didn't remember much about the Northbank province, other than it had two major cities and was ruled by Baron Von Kruber, who had been his father's associate before the great crisis ten years ago.

Like several other houses at that time, Von Kruber's clan also struggled with severe economic deficits in the wake of famine that devastated the country for two years straight. If the others were exacerbating their downfall with extravagant spending, his insolvency resulted from a combination of poor management and a series of failures to kickstart the realm's agricultural sector.

One thing led to another, The Von Kruber could have well ended like Rosenving or Stritzel; the former ended up in bankruptcy, all of their fortune sized and their privilege stripped off, while the latter reduced to a minor house with a terrible reputation (some said the head of the clan regularly sleep with her pet bear, but Silas too occupied to get into details about someone else's hobby, nor care about it.)

Anyway, the crisis could be averted after his father took over the Baron's existing debt and loaned him a generous amount of fortune to start a new enterprise again. Of course, the help came with its caveat, and nobody else was any wiser.

The pragmatism behind his father's help was apparent with the Baron becoming his father's puppet and additional voice to strengthen his grip in Kindeance Representative Council. The leniency his father provided, combined with alternatives to postpone the payment had lulled the baron wholesale. Years passed, yet debt remained. The Delving never forgets and so did their debitors before their piling obligations. And that was how Von Kruber became eternally indebted to his family. The amount had been so astronomical the payment was no longer about financial gain. His father practically owned Von Kruber. And his land. And his fortress. And perhaps every soul within the realm.

Admittedly, the last part was his own conclusion. But it didn't take the wisest of man to draw such illations; of course the other nobles wouldn't want to dirty their hand with a matter as dangerous as keeping a prince hostage, and thus the most incriminating role was delegated to the most desperate of them all.

It was underhanded indeed. But personally, Silas had no opinion about it one way or another. That was just how life works, and the reality in the upper echelon of society was full of sophisticated backstabbers who had no qualms with using dead bodies as stepping stones to earn higher standing. That realization reminded Silas of his father's mantra; when surrounded by wolves you have to be a bigger wolf, be a better pack, and trust nobody but your own family.

As he contemplated, Kirsten pointed at a crowd of people standing on the roadside in the distance ahead.

"Look at those people. Do you know them?"

Silas did not know them, but he could guess who they were. A mercenary group, either hired by Von Kruber or their poor informant back at Hdur. There were at least ten of them, with some younger members taking the lead, and seemed itching for a fight.

The party approached the group cautiously, and Silas was the first to dismount with saber still sheathed. Those men combined had no chance against him alone, but a bloodbath was not what he was here for.

Thankfully the tension eased up when a slightly older man stepped forward.

"What's with the high-strung faces? Sheath your junk, We ain't beating anybody on this premises! Go back there, let me handle this. Admiral Silas Delving, correct? Pardon the boys, Ser, we had a rough night last nite so everyone is on edge."

Silas raised an eyebrow at that sergeant. "Explain, would you kindly? Give me the full story."

"Mhmm.." The sergeant looked at his men reluctantly before clearing his throat.

"So last night, some schmuck shanked our night watchers and caused a ruckus. Of course some of the men responded. Then a very tall orc appeared. She was as big as the bulkiest man in our rank. Green, and muscled, armed to teeth and wearin' plates. Matilda Grimsword, she introduced herself."

"Ironsword you mean?"

"Oh ja! She introduced herself as an important high-ranker of some sort from the capital. I know nothing bout her but the capt certainly did. They talked, so left them to settle their business. When the last time I checked there were sounds of canons being set off and fires in one of the houses. Then our men had a scuffle with that envoys."

"Why did your men fight them? I thought you said they were from the capital."

"I know, some know, but most didn't. Capt was so occupied with the orc lady that the other boys were not properly notified. When we heard the explosion and saw the dead and the wounded, they thought the enemy was attacking, and the only strangers in sight were those envoys.

"How many men are in your company?"

"Supposed to be no less than 40, yeah, give or take."

It was a substantial number, but the deplorable tone in his voice said even forty men were not enough to contain them. "What happened next?"

"We dragged our captain's sorry ass out of the ruined barn. Messed up all over but alive. The brawl continued for a while but when we reorganized for a counter-attack, the envoys were already scurrying off to the forest. Probably afraid of fighting us all. To be honest Ser, the boys were extremely pissed, and I tell you not even a disciplined soldier would care about procedures and shit in the heat of battle."

Silas rubbed his chin, nodding as if confirming the mercenary's story. Some details were omitted, he knew that, but the Admiral find no pleasure in forcing a man to truthfully admit that his group had their arses kicked by several foreigners. He knew the feeling.

"Did you know what they were after?

"Nay, but Capt certainly knows."

He lied again.

"Sure he does, but you said he is at Pesti. So I will ask you instead. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, that will be to clear up the south path. Then to send his letter to the army. Had to smooth this thing up, the captain said. That one Madame Matilda guaranteed that we will not be persecuted and will be compensated for the collateral killings her party did, and-- I am sorry Ser, but the letter is secret. Kindly ask the Captain if you wish to know more."

The answer irked him more than he had anticipated. Since then the word secret was being thrown around this easily? It was the second time this day people failed to notice the significance of his nobility, and Silas had been inwardly wrestling with himself to not massacre these pathetic people right here, right now.

Misplaced respect aside, there was a possibility Matilda had informed crucial information about the Prince to them, and neither his father nor the king wanted the information leaked, did they?

More importantly, it was Silas who did not want it, because it will undermine the effort he was working on.

Gulping down a breath to calm himself, Silas would let this one slide. Then again, what was the use if the rest of his company was not taken down as well? Did he really intend to do a massacre in broad daylight? In a populated civilian town?

"I understand. But you said clearing the path? From what?"

"Ivies, the worst kind of thorny plants that grew as if they were conjured from hell just this morning! It blocked the roads to both Pesti and Fanghorn. We hacked, burned, and trampled on them but they kept growing. I swear some of them had minds on their own. We rubbed tallow on our blades and lit it ablaze until the iron was red. It was angry, it moved like a horsewhip and attacked some of my men. It took hours for us just to get through."

The admiral nodded. "So you suspected it was the envoys who grew the roadblock? Did your men see where they flee after the skirmishes?"

"Can't say for sure, but who else? Where did they run? Probably to Fanghorn. Some of my boys saw their horses heading to the north. Are you looking for them any chance?"

When a noble didn't answer immediately, one should immediately realize that they have done something impudent and seek forgiveness.

"No."

"well if you are, you should visit our captain. He knows more than what he lets on."

The nosy type like this was the reason why Silas considered drawing his sword. Relax, no need to be drastic, there was elegance in patience, even when even dealing with boorish plebians.

"I will keep that in mind."

The admiral left the man and mounted his horse. When they rode past him, the sergeant's next words came and go like they were not relevant to him anymore.

"Remember, Ser Silas, tallow on your sword if you want to get past them. You don't have to worry about the path leading to Pesti though, as we have cleared it for you."

It was Kirsten who bothered to offer a smile and say thank you.

[GM Post]

"Eh, up to you. Certainly easier without, but I can work around that." Yvonne only spared a glance at the undergarment, her attention returning to the salve and ointment. Apply to the burned area, right? Then bandage it off. Her touch was firm but surprisingly gentle, having cared for more injuries than she could remember throughout her mercenary life. "Alright. Ain't too pretty, but it'll hold."

Now, her own things. The chain links had partially melted and fused. Likely would be easier to just break it off and sell it as raw material, buy a new one instead of fixing it.

There's some thumping from the ruined stairs. If people were to check, they'll find Kaito the fox using some rope to carefully lower a sizeable suitcase from the upper floor. A relatively heavy one too, judging from how he heaved and grunted. On a closer look, it was rather ornate with gleaming brass frames and decorated patterns over the leather... magical patterns.

"Guess what I've found in the wizard's room? There's an entire armoire too, filled with pompous clothing. I cant tell what these stuff are but maybe someone more magically inclined could find it useful?"

It's filled with... reagents. Bottles and vials of various liquid and powder and anything inbetween, with more variations of color than an entire parade. Plain rings and necklaces sat next to carving tools, as well as a number of dubious trinkets of wildly different origins. There's even half-completed drawing of various tesseracts that hurt the eyes when stared for a prolonged period, list of technical difficulties in neat handwriting jotted thoroughly next to them.

It's around this time the Fetch returned with the prince in tow, the latter failed to hide his stunned shock at the unusual lineup. Then he recognized Matilda and made a beeline for the orc, his visage for once filled by a boyish smile befitting his age.

Chounan nodded to the Doctor and replied. ”Thank you and I shall do it."

Chounan made a glanced the rest of the party. Seem that they are already have an medical attention, it's time to find some food for their empty stomach. He checked his equipment and seem that he lost his katana and his bow and arrows, only wakizashi and tanto remained.

"I'm heading to look for food. I bet our bear friend and Lady Yvonne crave for meats after this recent fight." He said to the rest of the party as he getting farther to them.

Chounan proceed with haste in way in the fort. Stroll inside room by room for checking. He also tried look for his weapon but he found it destroyed. As he goes on the cellar, he found a man hiding. He remain his energy calm and neutral and not readying hand to unsheathe his one hard blade.

"Who are you?" Chounan asked the man on the cellar.

"Alright. Ain't too pretty, but it'll hold."

Oh, it will hold alright... actually, felt tighter than what she preferred, and Jazdia was glad she took off her brassiere before the wrapping begins. Well, couldn't argue with the kindness of others, and it still felt better than doing it yourself anyway.

Jazdia weaved. "Nah, it's okay. Thanks."

Leaving the Rosenving daughter to take care of her equipment, Jazdia's attention shifted to Kaito, who spared no time to report his finding like the little burglar bragging about his bigger score yet.

"Guess what I've found in the wizard's room? There's an entire armoire too, filled with pompous clothing. I cant tell what these stuff are but maybe someone more magically inclined could find it useful?"

Not joining him in his petty jubilation, Jazdia activated her eyes and approached the box. Reluctant to have her bandaged hand touching any of the items stored inside before staring at Kaito with a brief but piercing glare. The message was clear. Always treat the enemy's possession with caution.

"Let's start with obvious stuff first; Five bottles of health potion, three vials of mana potion." The elf placed the bottles on the table. Her eyes were still glowing when she spoke. "They are just ordinary healing and recovery compound. The color is more brilliant because it is the purest you can find on the market, and also, the box preserved the enchantment magic. As far as safety is concerned, they are safe to ingest, unfortunately, I cannot test them myself, but any of you feel free to help yourself with one of these. And I mean you, Miss Rosenving."

Jazdia paused to let the prince rush for the always-reliable orc-woman.

Similarly unexcited, (and it was fairly surprising considering that Samurai had been by Fred's side for years) the foreign swordmaster proposed to search for food, to which Jazdia nodded to grant her permission.

---

Solomon could see everyone was starting to recover. Though it would take some time before anyone was back to peak fighting condition, at least everything that was life threatening was handled. The harm everyone sustained was immense, so they were not out of the woods yet. Now was time to relax, regain their bearings, while also planning for what comes next.

Solomon had some interest in the reagents found among Asevor’s possessions, but there was another matter that had come to mind. Solomon had never expected the battle to escalate the way it had, and it left many other wounded and worse. He lowered his head, so that he could no longer see his comrades and their minor activities. He placed the empty salve container on the lopsided table and turned towards the stairwell where the body of the former lord of the keep lay face planted into the base of the wall, blackened with char beyond recognition. He wasn’t an innocent man, but from Solomon’s moment wandering the second floor, there appeared to be compelling reason to his treason.

“Just remember to not to exert yourself.” said Solomon as Chounan left in search of food. The advice was similarly directed towards the others. Until Cedar was able to recover, their condition was left to time. Given Cedar’s condition as well, time was probably all they had at the moment.

“In the meantime, I have a commitment of grave importance…” this time Solomon spoke softly, mostly to himself, though anyone paying attention to the old necromancer would hear him. He made his way around debris, crushing the dead and dried vines that lay across the floor towards the stairwell Kaito had just descended. He keeled near Von Kruber’s remains.

Out of sight of everyone else, Solomon’s mouth opened and closed beneath his mask. One would have to be upon his face to even grasp a hint of air escaping his lips. Though no one but the dead could hear, Solomon offered the still lingering spirit of the former lord a deal. His words were kind, though harsh as he repeated the events since their arrival at Fanghorn, and Von Kruber’s involvement with the destruction of his town. Solomon offered the man a second chance, though such a time would be centuries to come, Solomon laid to the man his proposal.

Whether the baron accepted or not did not matter. Solomon would stand and leave the keep. He would offer similar deals to Ragnar and a chance to pursue the fight once again. Towards the mages of Asevor’s command, his knights, and to the villagers lost to the fires, waters, or hail that occurred. They need not accept immediately if they wished. Likewise, he would not resent any whose spirit longed for the world beyond. Solomon offered those lingering the chance for a life anew in a future Solomon was determined to acquire.

Lastly, Solomon wandered through the ruins of the palisade, where the crater lay below Asevor’s last attempt to escape. Even though his body no longer existed, his spirit should have lingered. Like the others, Solomon offered him a chance to live again, to practice his magics, a chance to one day be free of the fears that led him to his paranoia. Solomon would not know if it would be the wizard’s arrogance to refuse, or his desperate wish to go on to accept. Either way, the offer was there, but for Asevor specifically, how long it would last depend on him. For this spirit was difficult to communicate with, as his anchors to the world would be fading.

"Who are you?" Chounan asked the man on the cellar.

"Nobody." said the man. He was sitting at the corner of the room, both legs sprawled forward. Next to him were an empty tankard, a candle, and a small wooden barrel. Some spillings of wine could be seen staining his white shirt, and his eyes were vacant.

"Kindly leave me be, sir."

Metallic clatter rang as Yvonne tore a part of her melted hauberk away, a miraculously uninjured fingertip pulling it as far as it would give while the good hand went to town with her trusty old sword. Links continued to fall off until she completely ripped a line through, then she slipped out of it like an old shirt that had somehow shrunken while she had it on. The gambeson underneath followed soon, partially burnt into an uneven heap and therefore just shredded to get it out of the way faster. That left her with only her chest binding, revealing the angry red blisters travelling up her left arm around a line of deeper burn. Similar mark was on her sides, while blackened flesh clung to her temple like a patch of plague.

"Oho, is that a healing draught I see? Nice. Fancy ones too." The salves were forgotten the moment her attention caught the potion, hobbling to grab one of the healing potion sealed in fancy wax. She bit through it to pull out the cork, spitting it out alongside bits of wax before chugging the entire thing down.

She frowned rather fierce after the fact.

"Dead fucking gods, what's in that thing? Taste viler than the usual fare."

<Snipped quote by Remuri>

"Nobody." said the man. He was sitting at the corner of the room, both legs sprawled forward. Next to him were an empty tankard, a candle, and a small wooden barrel. Some spillings of wine could be seen staining his white shirt, and his eyes were vacant.

"Kindly leave me be, sir."

"I surprised you consumed that barrel of wine. I respect that. No worries, I will not harm you." Chounan replied to man.

Chounan sorted out ingredients. The doctor said he must not overdo it, so he made it simple and delicious. But first, a huge amount of ham hock on a wide plate to handsomely reward his friend bear. He went back to the party and put the whole plate of ham hock in front of Cedar careful and safely stepped away from him, his instinct for a wild life triggered as that he did it carefully done. He went in and out filling the table with various dishes, something an adventurous cook that can be done to satisfy his fellow party by taste and needs for their recovery. He lastly left the poor man a meal that help him undrunk himself and went to the party to eat along with them.

"Dead fucking gods, what's in that thing? Taste viler than the usual fare."

"The common ingredient is usually Troll blood. Yeasted, fermented, and distilled. Then you have beetroot and essential oil from crimson fungi. Pharmaceutical alchemy is something I learnt during the short semester at Medical Academy. It is the purest product, so it wasn't watered down, and no additives like sugar or honey were added. What? It's not like it would taste like wine because it looked pretty."

"Shouldn't have asked that." Yvonne's visage contort into one of disgust, taking a swig of the water canteen and gargling loudly. "I should not have asked that. I need a bloody drink. Figure fatface had wine in his cellar? I'm getting myself some."

"The more you know... Years on the battlefield and I thought someone like you would have acquired the taste." the elf quipped.

"Bah. I drank it all, didn't I? Nasty stuff still taste nasty no matter how used I got to it." She spared glance to the bandage around Jazdia, recalling the nasty burn the elf had gotten earlier. "Why dont you take some?"

"Heh, I wish I can, especially that blue vial, it's not as vile as the red ones; mulberry, menthol, celandine, and crushed water wasp."

Yvvone's request was not in any way doubting her credibility, but to prevent misunderstanding from the other bystander, Jazdia felt obliged to explain why would she turn down the challenge, though rather reluctantly.

"Let us just put it this way; my body reacts viciously to any magical stimulant. So, Instead of healing or restoring, any substance with magic on them will be poison to me. It's not a racial trait, nor hereditary and I have been..."

It was not about secrecy anymore when Jazdia stopped mid-sentence and offered her a smile instead. Recalling the origin of her power was almost as painful as her theoretical reaction to the potion in question, and thankfully Yvonne seemed to understand this and not pry any further.

"Well. I'll get you some wine then. Be right back!"

How did she draw a conclusion that she would like to have one of those alcoholic beverages, Jazdia never knew. The girl already left anyway, replaced by Chonan who returned with assortments of food and cooked dishes.

Walking toward the fireplace, Jazdia tossed the woods into it. One, two, to six, and she had the last one gripped tightly; smoke permeated from it and soon ignited like a bright torch. After a splash of fish oil later, the fireplace lit alive. Warm, bright, and comforting. Sadly she had something else to do.

Perusing the box again, Jazdia swiped a polished brass locket that looked very ordinary in the eyes of the untrained; yet it was unordinary large, slightly bigger than her palm, it has no markings, and the surface was smooth. On its side, it had two buttons, while on the upside, there was a small hole.

Pushing the upper button would unlock the trinket, and eject a pointy metal from the upside hole. Inside it, there were two sections with white granite as its base. Both Granite was stained with bloody thumbprints.

Pushing the lower buttons revealed the content of the trinket. A holographic mirage projected from its upper shell, and the holder could read the writing as if every word were printed in thin air.

Sixteen thousand gold coins to keep the Prince of Kindeance monarchy in custody for a month. Service procured by Jonas Delving, Received and will be honored by Asevor the Wizard. Witnessed by Baron Von Kruber, and Winston.

Winston huh? The name rings a bell that Jazdia couldn't place, but the trinket itself called a record about an association that fancied a blood contract like this. Certainly not the kind of folks you want to mess around with.

Jazdia closed the locket and headed to the antechamber, this time she dragged the chair quietly.

At first there was no reaction from the bear, still breathing deeply in slow rhythmic breaths, until suddenly and without warning he made a snorting sound, the breathing stopped, and a mighty bandaged arm swooped the plate near his face as he awoke from his dreamless torpor into a dazed and feral state.

It was like this coming out of winter hibernation too; all hunger, disorientation, and wild instinct as the mind struggled to pull itself together and the body went on fully automatic responses. At least coming out from it this time he wasn't constipated or dehydrated, but the splints and dressings encasing his body and limbs made his movements clumsy and awkward-- the broken and fractured bones they were supporting drove a hot nail of pain through every action. It took several seconds of this raw torture for his mind to reengage, by which time he had already inhaled half the hamhock laid in front of him.

Human-like awareness came like the buzzing of angry bees in his aching head, bouncing first from terror at finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings, alarm at finding himself eating something without knowing where it came from, shock and dismay about having bindings on, and a flurry of other emotions and worries as the light of consciousness replaced the feral gleam in his eyes.

Deliberately, he sat the half-consumed roasted leg of pork down, inhaled deeply then coughed from the pain in his ribs, before shuddering, then looking around the room.

Memory of where he was, how he got there, who these people were, why his whole body hurt like he had gotten in a fight with a troll, and realization that the tight bindings surrounding him were not ropes, but splints and bandages --somebody had tended him while he was out-- clicked into place.

He sat there, half supported on his front limbs while still laying down with his hind quarters for several more seconds, drawing his bearings, appraising the situation, and feeling like a grand fool. He always felt vulnerable and self-conscious about the post-hibernation confusion. It was way too easy to hurt someone in that state and not even know it. Add to that, painful traumatic memories of the Rascade dungeons, and the sensations of being bound...

He shuddered, and gently shook his head.

'How long wuz I out?' He asked flatly, as much to save face as to break the silence.

The hamhock smelled and tasted better than it had any reason to.

He looked down at himself, and winced at what he saw-- emaciation, slack skin in loose folds, and mud-matted fur encased in clumsy bandages. Somebody had removed his robes-- a quick scan of his head showed them draped over the remains of the low bench he had been seated on during that so-called breakfast that morning.

This day had well and truly been terrible in every way he could imagine.

Suddenly, over the collage of fresh food, woodsmoke, unwashed humans, charred flesh, and acid-ruined everythings, a familiar scent he had committed to memory days earlier caught his attention. He swung his head altogether too quickly i that direction and snuffed loudly, before once more becoming acutely selfconscious of the spectacle.

There, near Madame Matilda, was the prince.

'Oh, thank what'er gawds may be, i's da prince!'

Relief washed over him like a cool splash in a mountain stream. He laid back down with the hamhock in front of him, and tried to relax.

'We got 'im.. we actually got 'im...' he muttered to himself, before resuming his meal, much more humanlike in the actions this time.

(Seems the vampire lady still busy. I guess it's up for me to keep an eye on things while the rest of my party are busy on taking a break and recovery.)

Chounan took his portion the needs for the recovery and wrap it and put on his bag. Since everyone is busy, he is fine to keep an eye outside the port. He decided to go somewhere high enough to view around from the fort. While on stroll, he picked up one of the mobs range weapon and it's ammunition for a missile type to defend from the high ground. He's light-footed enough to surface poorly ground areas and reach the best spot to observe.

He will spend his time there, finishing his food while observing all around the fort from the best spot.

[GM Post]

Otto von Kruber was dead. It had happened so quickly that the man himself didn't even realize it happening, only a brief flash followed by eternal darkness. His soul, weak as it were, lingered in a trance until a whisper of a necromancer anchored him and brought some semblance of temporary clarity to the late baron.

Concern for his family warred with the fear of the unknown, and the former eventually won. Just by a hair. He refused to act in any way that will endanger his family. Only with Solomon's agreement to it will he agree to the binding deal and remain as one of the summoned repertoire.

Outside, the attempt to reach out to Ragnar the Red was met with an obstacle. A different force was in the process of pulling the soul away, its source distant yet inexorably connected to the northland warrior. Ragnar's spirit was much more lively than the baron, taking the death in surprisingly casual manner as if he's just in for a ride.

Endless battle? The Ironhand offered the same! I'd rather join the ancestors' eternal warband, but if ye got a better idea...

The foreign force seemingly pulsed with dissatisfaction at the attempted bargaining, the barbarous father of the northlanders exerting more power to pull the soul away. Yet he was distant and his strength limited, the connection should be easily interrupted by a seasoned necromancer. If one was daring enough to try.

Ragnar's uproarious laughter was almost audible in the physical realm.

There were mixed response from the various dead. Some accepted, some did not, but the rank of Solomon's undead followers will only swell after this evening. Most of the casualties were from the mercenaries, who got killed nearly to the last man. Some of the baron's servants and villagers died in the conflict, but not as many as one may expected. A significant number managed to gain shelter in their cellar, though with the houses collapsed they're mostly stuck down there until rescued.

Finally, on the outskirt of the fort, Solomon found a wisp of Asevor's soul. The false archmage was more than a little miffed at his manner of demise, beaten by a band of ignorant fools and a freak of nature that weaponized wild magic. Now that he's dead, though, he didn't seemed overly worried at his state. He did not trust the necromancer, and flat out refused the contract. Whether it's out of pride or something else, Asevor refused to elaborate.

Back in the fort, the prince gathered himself as he finally gave the rescue party a lookover. He stepped forward, clearing his throat to grab the attention of those present before half-bowing in gratitude. Courtly and impeccable, only marred by the fact that he's wearing a pajama somewhat drenched by the rain.

"Pardon me for my lack of manners, brave adventurers. The past few days had been a rather harrowing experience." He straightened up, eyes resembling his father's scanning the room to commit to memory the faces of his rescuers. "I am prince Alec of Kindeance, and I offer you my heartfelt gratitude for a most daring rescue. This debt, I shall never forget."

That was the moment Yvonne choose to reappear from the cellar, dragging a firkin cask of presumably some alcohol one-handed with a few large mugs tied to it. The mercenary paused, noticed who's at the center of attention, and her visage split into a wide grin not unlike a certain cat from a wonderland fairytale.

"Hey, it's little Alec! Good to see you in one piece!" She studiously ignored how Matilda glared in disapproval, electing to lift the cask onto the blackened table before cracking open the top. Fragrance of grape and alcohol wafted from the content, some splashes of deep burgundy spilled from the impact. "I've found the wine! Oh, there's also a weird man down there. Dressed like a servant and drunk out of his bloody mind. Thought you guys would want to know."

She idly grabbed a bread from the repopulated table, courtesy of the foreign swordsman. It's cold, and probably started to turn stale already, but who cares - she need the calorie.

The spectacle caught cedar's attention, as yvonne dropped a sizable cask of wine down on the table and broke the seal.

Normally, he'd eagerly oblige getting shit-faced hammered. He really liked alcohol, and rather enjoyed the infrequent trips to the inn with his dad, but today he really felt it would be a terrible mistake with his weakened constitution. Just another disappointment on the growing pile of them that today had brought.

However, the bright blue potion caught his eye (though to him it was a tossup if it was blue or purple, but it had the right smell), and he DID know he wanted that.

Deftly imbibing the last of the hamhock in a way that bespoke lots of practice putting food away, he sat the bone down, then shambled toward the stoppered flask and took it without asking, popped the wax seal on the cork, and downed it in one go before making a VERY contented expression as it took effect.

"I am prince Alec of Kindeance, and I offer you my heartfelt gratitude for a most daring rescue. This debt, I shall never forget."

Jazdia stopped. Finally, the prince spared his time to speak to humble rescuers like us.

The elf glanced at the kid as she approached him, measuring the unpolished wisdom he had in him, wondering what kind of leader he would be after Fred stepped down. It was important because the monetary reward was never her motive. Fred promised a lifetime of gratitude and influence, but it was the word of the man himself, not the prince she will be rescuing.

"And what kind of gratitude you are offering, hmm?" she sniped, with a hard edge of sarcasm, leaning forward to meet the prince eye-to-eye. "How would an esteemed Prince of Kindeance repay the effort of the others who risked life and limb to rescue him from the terrible fate of being cooked alive in a stony sarcophagus? Obviously not by words alone, correct?"

She spared a moment to wink at the bear man, but the druid was too occupied with one of those blue bottles.

Considering that her commitment was never to the point of risking her life to ensure his safety, Jazdia would be fine if the prince would forget this joint effort somehow. She could haggle with Fred to compensate the half part of the deal. She always had her way. No problem, but this time all she wanted to do was to tease the princeling a bit.

"Aww, leave the boy be!" Drawled the bear, stretching, before wincing, then starting to unwrap his left pawlike hand and arm.

"Don' count ya chik'ns afores they's hatched-- as what ma pappi taught meh. We kin haggle 'th'r majesties' when we gits 'im home...'

He stretched out the withered looking and disheveled 'hand', then made a grimace along with a fist with it, as eerie coronas whirled about it for a moment, then flexed it approvingly.

'No sense pattin yaself o da back fer a job half finish'd, naw is dere?' He quipped with a mischievous hint of a smile before moving to the other hand.

'On da odder hand....'

Once more with the wrappings getting unfurled, the wincing, fist clenching, and eerie blue glow.

'Ain't no harm lettin' the boy know 'e might consider wha'tis we mights all 'preciate fer da trouble, naw is dere?'

He made a sparkly eyed and big toothy grin that rapidly turned to a grimace as he unwrapped his chest and torso, sucked a beath, then shimmered in blue again.

He turned his attention to Jazdia.

'Anuh idears on how we gunna do 'at? Bout did us in, showin at old conjurer da door-- aint nona'us good fer nuttin right naow.... I' dat bread I smells?'

He limped toward the table, wrangling one of the leg splints free, as he went pausing to shove an entire roll in his face with a contentment that seemed out if place, before swallowing hard, leaning on the remains of the table and grimacing again. Blue light blooming around the leg then vanishing before taking a pause.

'uh might need anodder bottle....'

He muttered.

"It's not about haggling with the majesty," said Jazdia with half-assed seriousness. "It's about what he said. A gratitude he offered. A real man will not renege the word once spoken."

Still leaning closer to the prince, Jazdia continued. "Are you a real man?"

The elf left the question hanging between them for a while. However, the bear's next chattering did very little to reinforce the overly-confident attitude Jazdia had been fronting.

'Ain't no harm lettin' the boy know 'e might consider wha'tis we mights all 'preciate fer da trouble, naw is dere?'
'Auh idears on how we gunna do 'at? Bout did us in, showin at old conjurer da door-- aint nona'us good fer nuttin right naow.... I'

Ugh, She didn't need someone to remind them about their misgivings, especially not when the entire conversation was aimed to cajole the prince into believing that they are his last hope to return to his father. When Jazdia stared back, it was supposed to be two words spoken indirectly; SHUT.UP.

I' dat bread I smells?'

"Yes, it is!" the elf grumbled with veins popping out of her forehead. "And unless you want to get an overdose, don't hog the blue vials all for yourself. Use the red one instead."