The fog that permeated the air hung heavily upon the road, the rain having just abated, leaving the faint smell of ozone. First, the small clip clopping of hooves betrayed their approach, but soon they coalesced into the shapes of two men astride horses. They were an odd pair, by all accounts. The attractive, if aloof, Kasimir rode beside the mustachioed errant knight, Reynald of Montfort. Both wearing similar modes of protection, though Kasimir's chainmail was under his jerkin and cloak, whereas Reynald wore his proudly, and even donned it upon his head and hands, though down the middle his armor was covered by a long surcoat, as was typical of brettonian knights.

"Youz say ve travele down zis roat until ze rivere?" Reynald asked for the third time in the last two hours. Kasimir supposed he was anxious for glory, like all enterprising knights. He guessed he could not blame him, entirely. Had Kasimir wished, he could have found a patron in Altdorf, stayed out of his father's court. Yet, for all of his problems with the Graf, a small part of him still wished for his approval, and that part of him had dragged him a few hundred miles north to be included in this farce.

"As I said, yes. Then we turn north for a handful of miles, and his manor will be nestled beside one of the grander hills of the region. I've been there, once." Kasimir explained, his eyes fixed forward, though a keen observer would see he glanced into the trees every now and then, remaining vigilant. The knight did not seem to have such paranoia. His faith in the Lady of the Lake must have been great, if only Kasimir's 'lady' was as useful, he thought ruefully. 

"Et zis laydee ve zeek, zshe is beayootiful, non?" The Knight inquired. Kasimir could hear the implications in the question, but he was too busy having his mood soured by more talks of Emmaline. 

"Unfortunately," He sighed, with barely concealed frustration. If she had been less beautiful, perhaps there would be less of a fuss over her.

"Hmm?" 

"Yes, very beautiful." Kasimir said louder, trying to sound like the subject appealed to him. "Golden haired and a bosom that would sate any man's desires. I'm certain if we manage to save her, my father would not mind gifting you with her hand, or at least bestow you with a badge of true honor." 

"Honuer is all I requier," He said, trying to appear modest, and failing on that count in Kasimir's eyes. "But ze moor beayootiful and high staytus ze lady, ze moor heroic ze deed, non?"

The bastard almost snorted. If that were the case, Kasimir would have the renown of Kurt Helborg or Felix Jaegar by now, if Jaegar's journals were to be believed, at least. He wondered if Eleanor... Emmaline that is, was even still alive? He found himself dwelling on that thought, curious on if it bothered him or relieved him. He did not know, and shook his head to waive the thought away. 

"We'll be there in two hours if we keep this pace, there will be plenty of glory soon, sir."