There was a shouting match between three men in the mud slick street, brinking on violence before a woman with a broom ran out and batted at them, causing them to flee and cry out 'Brunhilde!' which Kasimir presumed was her name. It was the first of a multitude of interactions, each one dirty or less than cordial. Utergard was filled to the brim, they would be lucky to find lodging at this rate. A few unscrupulous looking fellows leaning on a wooden railing watched them go by, and Kasimir gave them a look that promised death. They wisely looked away, but he kept his hand near his sword hilt. They had been staring at the horses even more than the former lady Eleanor. He hoped there were well guarded stables at least, that is if they didn't sleep with the horses. Somehow he doubted Emmaline would be keen to that idea. 

"I was hoping Taalagad wasn't so crowded," Emmaline said, curling her full lips in distaste and distress.

"This is Untergard, you thick headed wench. You've never been outside of Riekland before you decided to invade Middenheim, have you?" Kasimir remarked derisively. 

"Shut up!" She said, though her cheeks colored from her ignorance.

After taking directions from a local baker, they kicked their steeds in a canter, directing them toward the larger inn in Utergard; a tacky three story building that likely used to have a charm about it before its paint job had grown weathered and the sign's hinges did not creak. The hanging sign had the symbol of two greatswords, labeled 'Dueling Blades.' To Kasimir it sounded like a vendor for swords, but even before he gave his horse to the stableboy, he could see it was packed with men and women drinking and eating and laughing. He gave the stableboy an extra crown to keep their steeds safe and looked after, and he helped Emmaline off the destrier before they stepped into the admittedly warm and inviting taproom. 

Kasimir had not traveled to every province of the Empire, but he felt this room had a sizeable sample of most of them, at least judging by their accents and apparel. Hochland hunters drank malts and laughed in their strange cadence while bullheaded Ostland mercenaries played cards with Ostermark bowmen. A few burly Nordlanders drank and spoke in a far table, but the room was mostly filled with the Middenland refugees trying to flee south. Unfortunately, a quick glance showed both Emmaline and the bastard there were no table to sit, and so Kasimir nodded for Emmaline to save a spot at a standing booth on the far wall near the corner.

A few minutes later, Kasimir returned with two cups of foaming ale. The barwoman had told him the last barge left on the morrow, and there were ongoing negotations on if the captain would accept any more refugees or not. He decided to tell Emmaline after he told her he was able to grab the last bedroom. 

"I bought us a room." He said, handing her the second mug of ale. Despite the drab conditions of the town, he had sipped his and it was quite spectacular. He half guessed they had a dwarf that worked in the back.

The golden haired woman looked relieved, before she snapped up and raised an eyebrow. "One?" 

"They only had one," he explained with a sigh. "Plus we don't have the funds for two, or I don't. Unless you want to spend some of your hard earned cash." 

She was going to retort, but the ale was so good she decided to nurse it for a few more moments. "Fine, but I take the bed." She concluded, acting for all the world like she was still the lady Eleanor, just without the accent. Kasimir's smile was feral. 

"Of course, I've only saved your life multiple times and caught all the food on the road, why would I deserve the bed?" His words were dripping with venom.

"You might have a point if you did not cause such painful headaches to begin with." She responded, and promptly finished her drink by tilting her head back and opening her throat, practically inhaling the brew. 

"You are the painful headache!" Kasimir said, slamming his empty mug on the table. He looked as if he was going to say more, opening his mouth, but let out a growl of annoyance and turned away, hailing for another round of ale. As he did so, Emmaline unwisely decided to continue the conversation. 

"And you think you're some knight out of legend, rescuing fair damsels and chivalrously defending the realm?" She said, placing her hands together coquettishly and batting her eyelashes in a facetious display, before making a show of gagging. "You're a scoundrel like me, just less amicable." Kasimir turned on her, eyes blazing. Most men would have stepped back for fear of their life, but Emmaline was well aware if he wanted to hurt her, he would have done so long ago. This was yet another skirmish in a continuous war. The rakish bastard held his hands up, his fingers curling like claws as he tried to think how far he should go to insult her, before he gave the angry remark: 

"If Ulric is truly just, then why did he give you tits like those?" He asked. "Every day it's more lip, if they weren't so full and red you would be in the ground!" 

A waiter placed two mugs of ale between them, too busy to even eavesdrop on the conversation. 

"You think it's easy for me? With those eyes and those hands gripping me when you swoop in for a rescue? And those shoulders I cling to when we ride? I hate you, I can't even focus on thieving!" They both grabbed their drinks with a synchronized movement and took a long drink, before placing their mugs down.  

"You lose focus?" He chuckled incredulously. "Every time you turn around I have that ass in my face, I can't even fucking sleep!" He stepped forward, placing a finger on her collarbone like a gentle prod. "I can barely look you in the eyes, they're so blue. Why do you have to be so bleeding insufferable?"