rokubiraijuu

"Give that a try sometime," Johanna says to her subordinate as they draw up to the open-air forge that Argos and Dulcibella had been at previously. "I know it's strange... working with others outside the Stronghold. But it's good experience — for me, too, not just you." Seeing two women approach the forge, the weaponsmith from before puts down his hammer and looks up at them curiously, as though unable to imagine what kind of business they might have here. "Excuse me, sir. I'm interested in purchasing an axe as replacement for my own, which has gotten scratched up. Just a simple iron one will be fine." "... Boys still swinging wooden swords looking to buy my best steel, and now women replacing their axes. Ffff." The weaponsmith shakes his head as he pushes himself to his feet, then casts an exasperated look at Ceridwen and her dragon as he moves towards the back. "And what about you?" --- "Oh! Some vulneraries. Not a problem." The woman sets down her burden and heads to the back of the shop again. "So honeybees ride horses where you all come from, too? Are they very tiny horses?"

Ceridwen is dismayed. She can understand and acknowledge that much. But more than that is beyond the limits of her station. Johanna simply gives a smile — encouraging, but painted in professionalism. Between subordinate and commanding officer, there always exists a gulf of separation; there must. Attachment is a slippery slope to favoritism and then corruption; she would hate for any of her Guardsmen to think she would evaluate them on anything beside the performance of their duties. "You were chosen to be here out of the eligible candidates, Ceridwen," she replies. "It wasn't random." She decides not to respond to her last remark. It would be unkind to agree. Not that she didn't want to listen to her concern — that is an important part of her duty too — but that she was not in a position to offer the kind of support Ceridwen needed. "Have you tried talking to the others about this?" she asks, turning back around to continue on her way to the weaponsmith, indicating Ceridwen should follow. "I can give you advice, but besides that..." --- "Yeah!" Fless beams, the idea seeming to really brighten his mood. "I'll show you how much better I've gotten then. If you guys are looking for the library, it's over that way near the elder's house. There's not much in it... we don't usually write down a lot of stuff. I don't know if you'll find much there, to be honest. I hope I'll see you all again someday!" --- Seeing one of the men of the Allied Guard walk up to her stall, the young lady hurries to the front again, putting on her best smile, though it's clear she still seems a little perplexed at his showing marked interest in tomes despite his gender. Still, it's not as unheard of as women wielding swords and axes like some of the other outsiders she's seen milling around, though usually she's only ever heard of Warriors Village men picking up magic as a secondary weapon to supplement their swordplay. "Hm? How they're made? Oh, well, we break down rune pieces into fine powder, and use for ink in the tomes. The inscriptions and seals set into the pages carry the magic with them, until it's used up, of course." She looks curiously at him. "I've heard that's a bit different from how it's done in other places, but this is how we've done it for as long as I can remember." --- The older woman stocking the shelves of the supply store near the back turns around when she hears the girl's voice. "Oh!" Still carrying some boxes in her arms, she comes to the front to hear her request. "Are you talking about smellingsalts? Yes, we do have some of those here. If you'll give me a moment..." She moves to set the boxes down on a nearby table. "Now what will you be needing those for?"

J6.

Stab Merc B.

Fless' eyes widen slightly as he watches Argos swing around his sword. Yeah, that definitely looks better when he does it. Whenever he tries to practice with it, he just ends up dropping it or otherwise making an idiot out of himself. By the end, he has a big grin on his face. It only falters slightly when he's reminded he'd never even given his name. It's even worse when he recalls that Argos had asked earlier, too, and he'd never answered. "Oh! I'm sorry! Ahem." He straightens up a little and accepts the handshake. "I'm Flesselles, but just call me Fless. I hope my sword helps you protect some stuff, like you said you would! Maybe when Flynn and I go on his journey, we'll see each other again, and you can tell me what you named it. I'll tell everyone about the Invoker of Mayhem so you'll be famous too!"

"I'm sure! Uhhh, well, I just won't tell my brother. It's okay." He's sure Flynn'll probably say some things about a man of the Warriors Village giving away his sword, and maybe he shouldn't, but he feels like it's the right thing to do for the sword. He always feel bad... never using it. "It doesn't have a name right now. But, you have to promise to give it one someday, okay? When you find someone worthy. Or, umm... I guess something. We always name our swords after our beloveds that we swear ourselves to, because the sword is the extension of the self." He nods. "But you can pick whatever you want. Just make sure it's something important." Argos receives Unsigned Blade. (It's a Regal Sword.) He turns then to Dulcibella with a big smile. "Yeah. No problem! I'm... sorry if I sounded rude. Sometimes people come here saying all kinds of stuff about how we're bad and wrong. I thought maybe you were some of those guys. But you're really nice."

"That's completely different," Fless replies to Dulcibella with a perplexed look. "Hunting has nothing to do with being a warrior." "Sorry, miss, I don't want to be rude, but... it kind of sounds like you're trying to change my mind about something when you don't know much about us. Maybe I didn't say it right. I... I didn't mean to say you're a coward, or something like that, for using a bow. Maybe I'm just trying to say... it doesn't feel right for me. If you think that's wrong, then, um... I'm really sorry." He scratches the back of his head, feeling awkward, before looking back to Argos. "E-Either way... um, Mr. Invoker of Mayhem, sir, can I ask you something?" He turns the sword he's been holding in his hand and holds it to Argos, pommel out. "If you haven't named yours yet, then will you take this? I, um, know it isn't your sword, but I don't think I'm gonna use it much. And it's a good sword, so it's not fair to it and to our blacksmith for making it to just sit around collecting dust. I think you'll do it much more honor than I would."

Fless watches Dulcibella's demonstration, but still doesn't seem wholly convinced. "I know a bow can kill... I mean, I've killed a lot of animals bigger than people with it before. But..." When Argos talks again, he looks back up, then smiles slightly. "Yeah. What I care about is... my brother, and the Warriors Village. I want to help protect this place and its traditions that're really important to me." He shakes his head. "I can't do that. It's not honorable to fight with a bow. A real warrior doesn't take cowardly shots at enemies that can't fight back. He gets in there and clashes blades with the rest of his allies. And if he has to take a life, then he feels it against his own hand, not from far away." It's clear he's reciting something well-taught. But he seems to feel better, and smiles up at Argos. "Like my brother. Or you! But... hmm. Maybe the sword thing isn't really working for me right now. Hmm... hey, you said something about swearing your sword to protect something. We have that too! Does your sword have a name yet?"

Fless blinks at Argos like he'd just suggested that maybe the sky was in fact green instead of blue. "I mean... I guess, but first I gotta get good at the sword before I can do anything else. Anyway, bows're just for hunting and stuff. I don't... really like... fighting..." His voice trails off in embarrassment, and he averts his eyes again. It's clear that in his mind, he might as well be admitting that he still wets his bed. "B-But I'm gonna get used to it! I, I have to, so..." After a pause, he continues, a little more hopefully: "... maybe I can protect Flynn with my bow, while he uses his sword. It's good to have someone at your back, right?"

All folks tremble when they hear the Invoker of Mayhem. "They do?" he asks, tilting his head. At least, he'd never heard it before. "You've never heard of Flik before?? No way. If you were really famous, then you'd have met him before, right?" Fless completely ignores the first question, stunned by the idea that the name could be a mystery to anyone. "He... he's only the coolest man to have ever existed. Everyone knows he was one of the founding members of the Liberation Army in its earliest days. He's a big reason the Liberation Army even existed! And. Odessa Silverberg was his lady. Even after she died, he helped Tennan Dohl rebuild the Liberation Army and saved Caliss! And everyone knows him. He's the Blue Lightning, because he does thunder magic too while being an awesome swordsman!" The more he talks, the more excited he gets, eyes lighting up like he's talking about his personal hero. Which he may as well be. "He's one of our own. Grew up in this village just like me. He left on his journey to manhood and hasn't come back yet... but he's definitely worthy to by now. He's probably just busy being a hero. There's rumors that he's in the City-States somewhere! Flynn is leaving on his journey to manhood soon and I'm going to go with him, and we're going to find Flik and talk to him in person! It's going to be so cool!" When he finishes, his cheeks are flushed, and a big grin's on his face. But then it falls, and he scuffs the grass with his boot. "Well, we're going to go as soon as I'm ready. Flynn keeps saying my sword arm's not good enough. But I'm better than all the other boys with my bow."

"...never gonna get to meet Flik in person at this rate." Muttering under his breath dejectedly, Fless gets to his feet, waving off Dulcibella's offered hand and turning to face Argos again. Only to realize he'd dropped his sword in the tumble. Shoulders sagging, he walks a few steps to pick it up again, ears burning. If Flynn saw him now, surely he'd groan. "Aw, shut up!" he protests at Argos' teasing. "Just... wasn't putting my back into it, that's all!" That's what Flynn always said, right? At least the times he tried to help him train before inevitably getting fed up or Fless gave up, whichever came first. "You're... the swordsman, right? I heard you call yourself the Invoker of Mayhem in there! Just wanted to see how cool the Invoker of Mayhem could be!" --- Johanna simply stands there patiently, fully turned around again to face Ceridwen, listening as she talks, the words tumbling out of her in a deluge. She doesn't say anything or express any impatience, but simply listens to everything she has to say. Only after Ceridwen's cut herself off does Johanna nod a few times, slowly. "That's understandable. You're right, I did tell you not to be reckless. And there's some improvement you can make there. But you wanted to protect the villagers, and you don't have to be ashamed about that." "As for whether you succeed or not, there's only so much blame you can take for that. I don't think it's useful to beat yourself up over it. Sometimes the enemy chooses to act in ways that even a perfect strategy with every contingency in place can't predict. Not that we shouldn't try our best, but you're only one person, Ceridwen. That boy lived because of your efforts. And who knows how many others would have fallen if you hadn't arrived. Don't just look at what you didn't accomplish." She shakes her head. "Don't worry about the injury. I'm going to get hurt in battle. We all are. You can't blame yourself every time. And you shouldn't."

"Good riddance." As he turns back to his work, he continues muttering to himself. "What'd the elder think, letting these random people stick around so long. Don't know anything about us and just jump to conclusions. Slavery. Fff..." As the trio step away from the blacksmith's forge, there's a sudden cry off to Argos' left. "Rrraaagghhh—" Fless charges at the young man, sword raised— only to misjudge the weight of the weapon in conjunction with his own momentum and go stumbling as the grass dips into a slight downward slope. "—Aaaughhh!!" And go sprawling in the grass. "Agh, shoot!" --- "A dragon...?" The woman looks at Naomi quizzically, then nods at her next question. "Yes. Magic is our area, and swordsmanship is the men's. We don't go into battle, though. Not usually, anyway." She giggles. "Though there are a couple girls who don't care much about that." "Oh! I almost forgot! How could I..." Ducking under the front shelf, she rummages out of sight before emerging again with a stave in hand. "Please, take this. We've had a surplus of some antidotes lately and we're trying to get rid of these. It's no charge, so don't worry about it. It'd be more useful to you all, most likely." Naomi receives Antidote.

"Objectifying? Slavery? Ffff, what're you all going on about. It's a man's greatest honor to swear his life to a woman. Wasn't talking about any ownership, pff." He gestures in the direction of Argos' sword. "If you haven't found someone worth swearing your blade to, then come back. I'm not so poor to pawn off my work to some boy still green behind the ears. Ffff, invoker of mayhem..." He trails off into muttering the last words to himself, turning back around to continue with his work, at least until Dulcibella asks about bows. He turns back around, then looks her over quizzically. "You interested in hunting or something? I only make weapons fit for warriors, miss. You want bows, you want to head that way." He points off over a stretch of meadow to a small house down the way. "String some damn good bows over there. Don't think we'll have anything for your size, though. Hunting ain't women's work." --- The young woman smiles nervously. "I'm just... not used to seeing men carrying tomes, I guess. It'd be a little strange to be selling one to them, I think. You really carry those into serious battle? What's that like?" --- Johanna watches as Ceridwen reins in Ynddi with a somewhat bemused smile. "It's fine," she replies understandingly. Dragons have their own personalities, after all, and as in-tune as riders often are with their partners, she's never heard of a Knight who doesn't have scores of bizarre tales about their own. She turns to continue walking, but Ceridwen's next remark catches her off guard, which shows on her face. "Why?" It isn't as if she'd inflicted the wound herself.

The man looks Argos up and down, scrutinizing him, then scoffs. "The biggest and best I've got? Fffff, you're not ready to see that biggest and best I've got. Try again when you've become a man." He glances at Dulcibella, indicating her with a jerk of his head. "She your woman, boy?" --- The young woman giggles at Naomi's enthusiasm. "Personally, I like how light and easy to handle it feels. Are you getting anything else for your allies? I-I'm glad it's you who came here to see the tomes, to be honest."

It doesn't take much effort to find the weaponsmith; such a cornerstone of Warriors Village life is located just off-center in the village. With the settlement being such a small and insular community, the place is not so much a traditional shop as the Calissians and Dragon Knights are accustomed to, and more just a semi open-air forge, an array of weapons lined up and leaning against the wall of the roofed shelter. An older man, whose muscles made from years of hammering steel belie his age, looks up at the approaching footsteps to see Argos towing Dulcibella along by the arm, pausing in his work. "Who're you— oh, hrrmm, those outsiders who broke some heads last night, hmmm. Fff, the elder said you'd might be coming along." He addresses just Argos. "What you need?" --- At the sound of a voice, a woman peeks out from behind a small stack of tomes and hurries to the front. "Oh! I didn't recognize you, I'm sorry." But at the purchase, she smiles and nods. "A good choice! I like Light magic too. This is kind of exciting. We don't get a lot of outsiders around here buying things. I'll let the elder know how much to charge you all." Naomi receives Ray. --- Unaware of Ceridwen trailing behind her, Johanna continues on her way, but barely takes ten more steps before the sound of something heavy causes her to look back— and then tilt her head up to meet Yn Ddidderol's narrowed eyes. He's agitated about something, and an agitated dragon is something to be careful of He may be smaller than Idriss, but is still easily several times the size of any human and more than capable of causing harm, even unintentionally. "Yn Ddidderol. What are you..." She then catches sight of Ceridwen a few steps behind him, looking downcast. She assumes the events of the previous night are still lingering over her. "Ceridwen. Does he need something?"

Throughout the night, the village is silent — the kind of silence that follows only after a great commotion, where the trees are devoid of the sounds of wildlife, and the whistling of the wind through the night canopy takes over: nature's uncaring dirge. Those who remain awake would only be aware of small, distant disruptions in the quiet: someone walking to a nearby house to fetch more bandages for those injured in the battle, the occasional murmur of conversation among those Warriors Village swordsmen stationed on lookout. Gravity settles on the secluded settlement like dense fog low to the ground, with a sepulchral heaviness. Eventually, morning peeks over the treetops, lightening the sky with branches of color dyeing puffy clouds in pastel hues. The village slowly comes alive once more with a pronounced industriousness unlike the stillness of the night before. The men wake with the sun, stretching stiff muscles and picking up blunted practice swords, the harrowing events of the previous night igniting the rigor of their training. The women emerge from their doors with washing, looms, staves, some with tomes tucked under their arms. Despite the marked difference in their lifestyle from the men, however, not one of them looks meek or delicate. Each of them walks with her own kind of assurance, several laughing with each other or the men around them in the passing wake of danger. Not long after, the Allied Guard gathers again, each from however they had spent the night. The roofed shelter from last night stands off in the distance, innocuous. The blood had long soaked into the grass, the former prisoners long buried along with their General in the surrounding woods by Johanna and the others of the Guard who had remained and been willing. Johanna looks weary. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, but her voice doesn't waver as she addresses them all. "I spoke with the elder this morning. He thanked us again, and, to fully repay us, said that we're free to visit the village shop and any of their smiths for equipment. If any of you want to look into weapons or supplies, this would be a good chance to do that. This is the Warriors Village, after all, so I have no doubt about the quality. I'm heading there, myself. Otherwise, you're free to rest until the afternoon. I will let you all know when I've made a decision on our next course of action. If there are no questions, you're dismissed." ----- After concluding the briefing, Johanna turns to head in the direction of the weapon smith the elder had pointed her to earlier. She keeps her posture and expression steady, but her movement is heavy. After the burial, she'd stayed up most of the night detailing a report on all that had taken place, to be sent to her superiors as was customary. By the time that had been finished, it was nearly morning and she had gotten her second wind already. Attempts to sleep afterwards had been unfruitful, and eventually she'd given up and gotten up to prepare for the coming day. The leg injury from the battle bothered her a little, but she knew it would ease up as the day grew warmer. Even so, she favors her right leg ever so slightly as she walks, glad at least for the crispness of the morning air. In the daylight, things are easier, even if she must keep herself busy to ward off the whispers of uncertainty that ever threaten to encroach. ----- A figure jogs in through the entryway of the village, nodding to those on lookout and waving. He exchanges a few words before continuing towards one of the houses, a few rabbit carcasses slung over his shoulder and bow in hand. Along the way, he pauses upon seeing the Guard disperse after their briefing, and stops to look at them with wide eyes. In particular, his gaze drifts to Argos and settles on him, then the sword at his side. An excited smile comes over his face, and he makes to approach him, then seems to think better of it. Eventually, he chooses instead to hang behind a little, tailing Argos eagerly as he might when tracking a deer in the forest. [ INTERLUDE START. Johanna and Fless are interact-able. ]

Johanna is about to respond to Rhian when Argos' outburst cuts her off. The receding footsteps of some of the other Guardsmen echo in her ears like drumbeats, even on grass. Her expression hardens. "The Allied Guard was created to safeguard the people of the Republic and the Alliance. At times, that requires hard, even cruel, decisions. You knew this, Argos." "We were instructed to subdue the former prisoners," she adds, this time to Rhian. "I understand the reluctance, but at best we would simply leave the villagers to do the deed, and at worst she would return to a place she had risked her life to escape from." "If anybody else would like to step away, do so now." She walks forward.

Michi's suggestion elicits a variety of reactions. The mage seems surprised, then her brow furrows in thought as she considers this. The knight continues to look nonplussed, though the momentary raising of eyebrows implies he hadn't expected this either. The male cleric — Carrac, as his compatriot had named him — continues to look disgruntled, though he eventually shrugs after a brief silence. "Beats execution, at least." He turns to the girl and gesticulates some more with his hands, and she tilts her head at him, her expression somewhat blank. "It would be an amicable enough arrangement, if not for the fact that this were the Warriors Village. It's... oh, here comes your leader, I think." Footsteps approach in the darkness, crunching in the soft grass, accompanied by Idriss' heavier movement, his size blocking out the light of the moon as rider and dragon draw near. Johanna looks between each member of the Guard, ascertaining the situation from the looks on their faces. "I take it you've come to some kind of consensus?" ... ... ... The night draws on as Johanna hears from various members of the Guard describing the situation. She finally looks back to the prisoners with a frown. "Letting them help...?" She purses her lips, then gives a single shake of her head. "That may work if this were any ordinary village. When I spoke with the elder, he made it clear that the village code would see them killed. Their tradition here is fierce devotion to being able to protect their loved ones; it's tied directly to their sense of honor. From what I understand, no man of the Warriors Village could stand for letting them live and be able to show his face afterward." She looks up at the prisoners with a solemn, but firm look. "In this situation, I don't think the village customs would let them accept help from 'outsiders', as they call us, in good faith. Our orders were to either apprehend or subdue the escaped prisoners so that the continued safety of Caliss may be maintained. We cannot guarantee that without a foreseeable margin of error if you go free, or even if we return you to your imprisonment. So, in accordance with our orders and with the wishes of the village, we will execute you. As Acting Commander of the Allied Guard, it is my duty to take this responsibility." Reaching down, she picks up her axe, hefting it into her hands. "I will make it painless."

The looks on the faces of the three seem to suggest they agree with Kris' exasperation. "Why would knowing that make any difference?" the cleric fires back at Rhian. "We've already wasted our breath, and for what? You've all made it clear it doesn't matter where we came from or what our reasons were. You've decided based on what you already knew about us even if we hadn't made a goddamn peep." Though more subdued, the mage seems to concur with his ire, meeting Rhian's eyes levelly. Nevertheless, she continues. "As far as we know, she was caught in a blast in the war ten years ago and lost her hearing then. Her parents were Loyalists, though noncombatants. She was separated from them when they were all imprisoned, as most children were. She's been in Soniere ever since, the same as us, although I'm not sure she understands why, since no one could talk to her... Carrac taught her a thing or two with a basic stave so she'd have something to do besides being... harassed by the guards and the other inmates." The other cleric scoffs through his nose. "They got to know our damn life stories now?" he mutters under his breath. "Still, she made the decision to come with us. Her circumstances aside, that much is true. How much she understands..." the mage sighs, looking uncomfortable for the first time. "We're not certain. It seems the trauma she suffered in Soniere impaired her greatly. Regardless, she has nowhere to go."

The hearing three look surprised at the question, and they glance at the girl, who, seeing all eyes on her, steps back behind the other cleric, a little hesitant. When he gestures to her again, though, she calms down a little, apparently having thought that they all wanted her for something. "She's... she came with us when we escaped," the mage explains. "She was a victim of Soniere too, but in a different way from the rest of us. In truth, she shouldn't have come with us. Now she's gotten tied up in the last thing she needed to get tied up in again." "I wanted to get her out of that hellhole!" the cleric cuts in, bristling. "If you'd seen the shit in the Ward— you—..." He fumbles, too angry to voice it coherently. "And she wanted to come too, anyway." At a tap on his arm, he turns back at the girl, who's giving him a quizzical look. With a sigh, he makes a few more motions tiredly. The mage continues, though the outburst seems to have made her a bit sullen: "he's the only one who can communicate with her. But, by your analysis as I've been hearing it, she's as culpable as the rest of us."

The former prisoners look to one another, but an air of calm blankets their expressions and body language. The mage turns to Rhian with a placid face. "We would all prefer to die here. We'll keep striving for life as long as we draw breath." The knight pushes himself to his feet and stretches with a loud exhale. "Yep, let's do it." Behind them, the male cleric grits his teeth, looking to the young girl and making a few gesticulations with his hands. She looks at them, then up at him with a wide-eyed look before responding with a few hand motions of her own. Heaviness sinks into the male cleric's eyes, and he shakes his head, gesturing again briefly. To this, she simply closes her eyes, then nods, moving to stand quietly beside him.

"You're seriously asking why we wouldn't just want to hang around in prison?" The knight seems amused by Dulcibella's question, a wry smile curving his mouth. "How old were all of you when the Liberation War ended? The first thing all the winners wanted was to lock up every single last loser in Caliss for life. Keeps the country safe from all the toxic Imperialists, you know?" "How can you just— talk about—" "Look," the knight sighs, sitting up fully to frown at the cleric. "None of us could stomach it. It's like slowly losing air in there. We were soldiers for the Imperial Army, all of us. No shame in admitting that," he says, shooting a look at the mage. "And cause we ended up on the losing side, we got thrown in a place where the animals got better treatment. Miss," he addresses Rhian now, though without looking at her, "if you've never had to stoop so low to keep going, I'm happy for you. If this is still about what honorable people should've done, then, well, the choice is yours." There's a moment of silence. "... What a relief, to hear you be serious for once," the mage says quietly with a small smile. At the same time, the cleric grumbles under his breath. "That's just sad... explaining... groveling ourselves to some folks who think they're so high and mighty." The knight laughs at the first comment, then shrugs nonchalantly at the second one. He says nothing more, waiting with idle expectation for whatever comes.

"I'm with you, Ka— err, Ph-Phoenix? Phoenix!" Momentarily distracted by his uncertainty regarding assailing people unrelated to their current cause, Ferdiad hadn't quite caught everything their leader had said. Fortunately, he's no stranger to the battlefield. Move to K6 and get ready to facetank some sords Hold.

"Brigands and tyrant-supporting scum?" the knight chimes in, still reclining. His tone is tinged with ironic mirth. "Well, guess I'm not surprised. They started calling people that well before our Hero of Caliss toted around his banner." "This isn't the time or place to get into old politics," the mage chides. She shakes her head. "As for attacking the village... all I can say is that we are ex-convicts. We were lucky enough to get out of Soniere with the clothes on our backs and scrounge some gear up along the way. Past that, we had no supplies left. A few of our number already succumbed to exposure and starvation. I'm making no excuse, and I can't say I'm proud of the decision, but it was what the General chose in the end. Our survival." "Well, I'm proud of it," the male cleric pipes up again bitterly. "Whatever it takes to not end up like those poor fucking sods in Soniere's Ward." His hand tightens a bit where it holds onto the girl's behind him, prompting her to look up at him questioningly, though he doesn't notice. "General did the right thing. Damn it, he did the right thing for us. That's what matters." "Pretty passionate speech for someone at judgment day," the knight quips. "Can't all be flippant assholes like you." "Is that enough to explain our situation?" The mage continues to address the Guard, ignoring her fellows behind her. "In the end, we can't understand each other. Just make your choice."

Since being brought in, the prisoners have remained silent. They've stuck together in a small group, the remaining four of them, but say nothing. The knight walks at the forefront, having shed most of his armor that'd been dented during the battle. The mage follows behind him, as well as one of the clerics. The other, who seems to be young, around Naomi's age, trails behind some steps, though the other cleric glances back over his shoulder at her once in a while. Once under the shelter, they keep a bit of distance from the Guard, standing in a cluster in a corner, well within eyesight, not that they're doing much. When approached, it's the mage who turns to look at them. And when asked for their reasons, she opens her mouth— "What does it matter? Do you need to know our reasons to decide what to do with us?" Only to be cut off by the male cleric, who looks less than happy about this whole situation. The girl stands behind him, avoiding looking at anyone else directly. The mage's jaw clenches in frustration, but she ignores his remark, instead choosing to answer the question. "We broke out of Soniere several days ago because that place is worse than hell. I don't know what your orders were, but we were going to make for Kuluk, then take a boat up to Jowston. Try to make some living there. We knew there was no way we weren't going to be hunted down if we stayed in Caliss." "All this, just for fighting on the wrong side." The knight lets out a sigh, folding his arms back behind his head. "We all had our reasons," the mage replies sharply before looking back levelly at the Guard. "But that's then. What's your decision?"