Bloody women! Just when you thought you knew all of their tricks, they make you feel like a wool-headed fool! 

Davian was more used to women fighting their own battles, not letting a contingent of men do it for them! He tried reaching for the seal of the High Lords he had on his person, but a dandy with a cudgel swung at him, calling him a 'Fade's Goat' which was an uncreative way to compare one to a trolloc. Davian paid it no heed, he was far prettier than that. As hands reached in to grab at him, he did the only thing he could. The thief-taker grabbed the sour horsewater, gulped it greedily, and then spewed it on all the faces of those men that surrounded him. A few drops even splattered on their screaming wives egging them on. The wine stung the eyes and the poor quality caused them to hack, cough, and gag. Davian nearly did as well, but he was prepared for the horsewater, and leaped atop the counter of the establishment as the other men tried collecting themselves, racing across the wooden frame above the group and leaping toward the open door. Light burst forth as he made it outside, and he swiftly looked around, squinting to accommodate his eyes. 

He believed he saw the glimmer of a dress racing down a back alley, and with a swift roll off the porch, he reached under the boards and retrieved his weapons. A few of the men had come outside in pursuit, but one look at the wicked sword and mace had the ruffians think twice. Davian scowled at them. "Light forsake you for fools!" 

The thief-taker sprinted toward the direction he believed she had fled, trusting in his longer legs. Feet shoving off the ground, he leaped over a fallen pair of barrels and found himself on another street. The clatter of wheels drew his attention, and he gawked when he saw the accursed woman closing the curtains of the wagon. He nearly called out, but decided it was best not to. He couldn't let his frustrations get the better of him. 

At least now he knew she was guilty of something. 

A peddlar drew an oxen down the street beside him and a few children danced in the street, twirling small pieces of satin fastened to sticks in some strange game. Out of another alley walked an older man with a mare, the horse clopping lazily as it was led along by its bridle. Davian finally did take out the seal, a long tablet of bronze with the symbol of Alteima and Tedosion etched onto it. He jogged over to the elderly fellow and thrust it into his face. 

"Apologies sir, but I must take your horse." Davian declared. 

"My horse?" He asked, incredulously. He glanced at the brown mare, the beast regarding him as if it too understood. "This is my wife's. She will kick me into the bay if I don't bring it back to her. I canno-" 

"The High Lords will see to it she gets it back," Davian said, mounting the horse with such swiftness the man barely knew the beast was being spurred away before he cried out in dismay, waving his hands and chasing after Davian. The thief-taker paid him no heed, racing after the cart that had already turned the corner out of sight. When he found the 'lady Sakura,' nothing would bring him greater joy than turning her in.