Cold Hearth.

[Garnet]

Garnet stopped where he was and looked out from the camp going up around him. Marle had led them here out of the wilderness looking for support she needed to pick up before heading further west. Or something. He'd recovered his gear, and made sure it was properly maintained after the last fight. He'd bound up the new rents in his coat and made certain that his shield, sword, and heavy blade were in good order. Now he just needed to get himself back in good shape. Under the coat he wore, sleeves chafed on bandages. He had wraps compressing the odd spot on his leg. And all the way around his chest under his shirt.... But on the outside, everything still looked good! That was what he could maintain right now. Looks.

He pushed his red hair back from his face and let his hand drop to the goatee around his mouth, dusting any erstwhile snow out of it. Tents were up already, and a watchman was on duty. Garnet saw no reason why he couldn't go in and have a look around the town. The buildings all looked a bit hunched together, and there was an abundance of smoke coming from the roof tops. Also, plenty of wood chopping. He smiled at that. Heat brought everyone together here. It was simple, but necessary in the northern terrain.

He went ahead and entered the town, watching the people reacting around him. They seemed... nervous. He could imagine why. Marle didn't want to cause damage, but her presence here with her soldiers would be a drain on resources. And would she be taking people with her when she left?

The red headed swordsman managed to duck off into a side street before attracting too much attention to himself, and promptly set about looking around. He parked himself on the porch of a small tavern which looked to be used more for socializing than booming trade. There was a smith to look after the tools, a carpenter to build, and what looked like a general store. The rest could be houses with storage sheds or tanning houses? Or butcher shacks. There could be mining here, or fishing if they were lucky. Probably some hunters, but the remote nature of Ilia made logging a difficult venture without some outside force coming in for pick ups. And a wealthy one at that, if it was to support shipping the lumber out. No, the towns number one export probably was what most other places here produced. Swords for hire....

He leaned on the railing as he considered these things in the icy sun rays, considering heading inside for a quick meal. They'd probably appreciate any coin he could bring in.

[Antonietta]

THWACK!

"Watch where you're going, dumbass...!"

Enter Toni, a girl with a small frame and wispy, straw-colored hair who happened to be built like an ox. Well, not really, but if she heard you say otherwise, she'd beat the hell of you (or try to anyways). With the elegance of newborn bear and the grace of a crocodile, she stared into the otherwise terrified eyes of the merchant who hadn't been paying attention when he walked straight into her. Given, he was on the ground and she was standing practically unfazed...

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hurt-"

"I'm not going to hurt you! What are you, stupid? Just because I have an axe doesn't mean I'm going to rob you blind, cut out your entrails, bake them into a pie, feed it to your family and then sell them into the black market slave trading ring," Did she mention that she had the tact of a dying fish? "No, I have more class than that. I don't want your bloody guts all over me!"

By now, the man was quivering, perhaps in the fetal position and on the small street, it was probably causing quite the debacle. When she offered him her hand and he just cringed even more, the thirteen year old grabbed his wrist and yanked him to his feet with surprising strength, earning a "Meep!". "Calm your nonexistent mammary glands, sir. And do try to be more careful in the future; some people would take advantage of a baby-man like you,"

As he scurried off, Toni picked up the small bag that he'd caused her to drop. With barely any money, Toni was having to make cuts and go hunting. With an axe. And while decapitating blows to wild pegasi sounded completely great, it was far from easy. So, having used the last of her money, the small teen had purchased a rather deft drumstick from some large bird. Don't ask Toni what it was - she had smelled meat and bought it.

Plopping down on the tavern porch in a rocking chair adjacent from a redheaded man who appeared to be sporting a rather fantastic beard and coat, she looked up at him with a mouth full of smoke poultry.

"What're you looking at?"

[Garnet]

Garnet raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of him as the man fell to the ground. He couldn't hear what was being said well enough from where he watched, but the man was cringing so much that Garnet was considering intervening. He began to raise his hand to the handle of his heavy two-hander, before stopping and letting it fall back to where he'd had it resting, leaning on the railing. He'd caught a glance of the bully.

Nothin' but a kid. What's wrong with that guy...? Garnet eased back into his relaxed position, though he still watched what was going on. Other people were watching as well, but whatever had happened had finished before too much more could occur. The redhaired man sighed, and went back to watching from his little spot on the porch, only for his solitude to be interupted a moment later by a small, if strong, voice. The child from before.

"What're you looking at?"

Garnet looked down at her, avoiding bumping his head on the crossguard of his iron blade. He pushed himself up a bit more upright on the railing, though he stayed leaning on it as he spoke.

"I'm not quite sure yet. I think I just saw a kid toting an axe knock over a fully grown man. And I'm not even drunk." Garnet looked the girl over. She couldn't be very old. Somewhere in early teens, perhaps. And clearly not worried about rowdiness. Where were her parents?

"What's yer story, Kid? That's not a toy your carrying around." Garnet's voice was stern, but not to the point of scolding. More like he was trying to head off trouble which he was expecting his way. Which, perhaps he was.

[Antonietta]

"Knock him over? Nahnahnahnahnahnah," Toni pursed her lips as she watched the scene around her. And apparently, she was the center of it. Go figure. "He bumped into me. But with a body like this," she made a motion with her hand, indicating herself, "Even the mightiest of men fall," As if realizing how this sounded, the small girl took a moment for a rather long blink, perhaps in hopes of finding a way to rectify the awkward situation she'd just thrown the both of them into. "Y'know. On their butts. Or even dead," She nodded knowingly. Yes, this definitely didn't make it awkward.

"My story? S'not much of one. My parents are mercs with their fancy pegasus and sword. They put me in a training camp, I got out, and I don't feel like goin' home to an empty house," She took a rather large bite of the juicy drumstick, tearing away meat as she did so. But not before reaching to her bag and producing a napkin to blot her face with. After all, didn't she say that she was classy? "So I may as well take what I know, which is axe fightin', and try and make a livin' for myself. I hate piggybackin', ya know? I can take complete care of myself," She nodded knowingly.

...Within reason. But I'd never tell anyone that.

"Besides. You're not exactly out of the woods yet either, sir. You've got a blade. And you're wounded, judgin' by how stiff your movements are, not to mention the fact that you're using that poor railing to support your big, fuzzy body,"

If she were a pegasus knight, she would have z-snapped. Instead, she poked his chest in the most nonthreatening manner she could manage. When looking back, she totally realized she sucked at being nonthreatening.

[Garnet]

Garnet watched the girl's awkward attempts to dig herself out of her own mess. Ah... the innocence of youth. And its pitfalls. As she spoke about her body being the sort that knocked men "on their butts" or "dead", he felt a mild grin spreading across his face. It didn't sound as dangerous as it could have, thanks to the situation. Plus. there was the fact that it was coming from the youngster.

She quickly moved on, done with her little word mishap. She tackled her own story and eating dinner next, at the same time. He payed attention to her, taking note of how she moved and gestured as he heard the story. It seemed odd to him at first. Parents leaving their child for mercenary work. Then he remembered where he was: Ilia, home of sellswords.... Small wonder then.

Garnet frowned a bit as she poked him in the chest, feeling it slightly even through his breastplate under the coat. This kid hadn't seemed to have picked up on lessons in personal space or manners. She had picked up on the fact that he was injured though, so perhaps some of what she'd said was true about taking care of herself. She'd been around enough soldiers to spot that.... So far his experience with Ilians had run a wide gamut of tendencies, from dedicated to wildhearted. He didn't know what to expect of them anymore.... She'd called him fuzzy?

"Yeah. I get paid to use it and get similar weapons used on me in turn, when I'm not chasing my own goals. A simple, but nearly always destructive arrangement." Garnet was a fighter by trade now.... He accepted this. Almost.

He brushed away the girl's hand as he pushed himself off the railing and stood, boots clomping on the wooden deck as he turned.

"I hate to break it to ya girl, but "piggybackin's" considered normal for people your age. I also don't know of many business folks who would hire you. What's wrong with the trainin' from the camp?"

[Wein Lowell]

Ugh, my head

Wein's eyes twitched as the acknowledgement of his own pain illuminated the darkness of his unconsciousness. He felt sluggish and slow, and had no idea where he was, or what was going on, but he could tell he was still alive. That was about all he could tell at this point, but it was enough.

And as the cogs of the archer's mind began to turn, his senses began to reignite themselves, and as his mind was able to process more, he slowly gained more awareness of his surroundings. The first thing he felt was wind; a gale rushing past his face. It was cold, and numbing, but it was helping him wake up. He also felt his body oscillating, up and down, and occasionally side to side. It was like...riding a horse? No, it was more like...riding a wave. It was like he was on a boat, only he smelled no salt, and could feel no sea spray.

Slowly, Wein opened his eyes, but the light overstimulated his pupils, and the wind made his eyes burn, forcing him to take in what he could through squinting eyelids. Above him were a swathe of greyish-white clouds, and below him was an empty, greyish-blue vastness. Maybe he really was on the ocean?

But as his eyes began to adjust to their latest environment. He realized that was not the case. What had originally looked like clouds were now clearly mountains, and what had looked like water was most definitely the sky. He was upside down, it seemed, and flying through the air like a bird...

FLYING!?!?

The Ostian lurched forwards in an attempt to sit up and reorient himself, but the only thing that moved was his neck. After struggling a bit more and failing to erect himself, the archer realized he was bound tightly to whatever he was riding. He looked left and right, spotting a giant, beating wing on either side of him, each with its own rubbery webbing stretched between a scaled frame. A wyvern it seemed.

"Oi, look at that!" came a shout over the wind. "Your Lowell boy is coming to! Looks like you didn't kill him with all that downer you gave him!"  Downer? Did they drug him?
"Good to know!" shouted back the rider upon whose wyvern Wein was born. "We should be able to ransom him for a nice sum, but even if that doesn't happen, delivering an escaped Ostian noble should at the very least get us a promotion!" Wein's heart jumped. Ostian noble? But how did they know?

"I'm not a noble!" shouted Wein, trying to make himself heard despite his non-ideal position. "I'm just hunter that was trying to have a good time at the Berenese tournament before you ruffians ruined it!"
"Save it for somebody else," shouted the rider back. "I know who you are, Niew Lowell. I was serving under you when Ostia fell to the Etrurians. You might not remember me, but I remember you." Wein was about to shout out a retort, but found himself lost for words when the man mentioned Niew. If the man knew what his brother looked like, then he knew what he looked like. After all, they were twins. That also meant even if he managed to convince them that he was indeed Wein Lowell, and not Niew Lowell, it wouldn't matter. They had found a Lowell. It probably didn't matter which.

But if this man was an Ostian, and a soldier no less, then why was he garbed like a Bernese wyvern rider, and why in the hell was he accosting an Ostian noble like a criminal!? Perhaps if he pretend to be Niew, he could reason with the man.

"But if you're Ostian, then what is your grudge against me?" Wein asked. The soldier remained silent. "We should be fighting the Etrurians who wronged us! Not selling each other for ransom!"

"Men like you let Ostia fall!" shouted the soldier back, though he was shouting more to speak over the wind than he was shouting with anger. "And then you ran like scared foxes with your tails between your legs! The Etrurians offered us survivors a second chance. They invited us to fight for St. Elimine, to start new lives!" The rider shook his head. "It's not the ideal situation, but it's better than dying in the black crater that Ostia is now!"

Wein's brow furrowed. Etrurians? But weren't these Bernese wyvern riders. Bernese rebels? Isn't that why they had attacked the arena?
"So the wyvern riders that attacked the arena weren't rebels?" Wein asked, logically confused. The rider shook his head again.
"No, they were," the rider responded. "At least, most were. I'm just one of a couple Etrurian soldiers sent to start the fire, so to speak. There were four of us, but our leader, Alranus Aurilia, was toasted in the chaos by that dragon." Wein listened intently, genuinely interested in the man's story. Although odd, it did explain things, and if he was going to be dragged across Elibe on a wyvern, he might as well know why.

"So I take it you have no residual loyalty to me?" Wein asked, putting on his best impression of his brother. The soldier merely gave Wein a solemn look, then turned his gaze back forward. The Ostian let his head slump back. Guess not.

Wind rushing past his ears, the archer gave a silent sigh. Trapped hundreds of feet up in the air and securely bound to a large, powerful flying beast of war, Wein realized there was little he could do. Escape? Clearly out of the question, at least for now.

"Sergeant!" came a third voice, the last wyvern rider. "There's a small town down below us. Could we stop to rest for the night? We've been riding almost nonstop for days! The first wyvern rider to speak looked down.
"Agreed. We're not in any hurry and we could use the rest!" he shouted back, before leaning forward and pushing his reigns forward to sending his wyvern into a dive like a hawk hunting for prey. Wein looked on, admiring the natural, powerful grace of the flying creatures, before the wyvern he was on did the same, sending the Ostian's stomach up into his heart.

"Oh Elimine. Why me?"

[Antonietta]

"Trainin' camp's closed," the small girl became immediately defensive. While she was telling the truth, she left out the fact that it would open soon enough - she just didn't want to go back and not be able to leave for months on end. "And piggybackin'?! Who d'you think you are - I've not done any piggybacking so far." She crossed her arms, with one elbow resting on the iron axe she had sheathed at her side. This wasn't going to end well for either of him - this furry red man, telling Toni of all people that she could only piggyback. Well, he'd see who had to piggyback by the time she was done with him, if he had a back left that is.

...Okay, she was getting her panties in a twist, but it wasn't her fault! This man was just baiting her - intensifying the imaginary wedgie, if you would.

"Besides. Now you're the one who has to do the piggybacking with that bum-whatever-it-is-that-you-have. You're all wounded and stuff - sucks for you~" Toni's grin became one edged with mock malice. Telling her she needed to piggyback. Hmph. He'd see just how much he needed someone to help her.

The straw-blonde haired girl turned as she heard what she thought was screaming. Looked like a wyvern - she didn't pay it any mind. Instead, now that she had eaten all the meat from her drumstick, she bit down on it, again, in the most nonthreatening manner (which coupled with that malicious grin ended in a rather threatening gesture, but then again, Toni was oblivious), and the bone cracked between her teeth.

Mmmm. Marrow was delicious.

[Garnet]

Great. Now he had some know it all brat sassing him. And was she honestly trying to intimidate him? Whether she was or not, she was a natural at it. Give her some time, and some good fortune on the battlefield, and she could probably pull a little troop together all by herself. For now though, he remained annoyed, and skeptical of the girl.

He heard something, and turned his head to where the girl looked, squinting up at the sky from where they were. Great leathery wings beating in the cold air were what he spotted. Four sets of them. What were wyverns doing here? Bern was where they belonged most of the time. He rolled his shoulders back to try and release some of the tension in them and stood, his shield clattering slightly off of the heavy blade on his back. Looked like they were making their way down here.... This would be interesting. Especially with an Ilian encampment parked right outside.

The red-headed merc looked up the road towards the camp, and saw the people of the village had more than flying lizards to watch. Looked like a cluster of soldiers was marching its way into town.... Marching was rather generous, actually. Shuffling in seemed more appropriate, laughing amongst themselves and raising fists to the air in celebration. As though they were heroes. Garnet supposed they were, after dealing with the bandits in the mountains. It was still less disciplined than what he was used to, or what a good portion of the camp seemed to maintain most of the time.

"Whatever you say, kid." He said quietly, dismissing her. He wasn't THAT injured, but he also wasn't the sort to get bogged down into arguing matches with twelve year olds. "If you want a spot inside, you'd better grab one before they get here."

And with that finished. Garnet shoved off the railing and turned about opening up the door to head into the inn, and grab a seat at the counter.

[Wein Lowell]

Wein felt his plummet come to a gradual, gentle halt as the wyvern that bore him touched down upon the ground. He took a deep breath and sighed. The wyvern was such a majestic creature. It was able to shift from a rapidly descending speed to a safe landing speed in mere moments with just a few powerful beats of its wings. But that didn't make said descent any less nerve-wracking, especially not for the aerially inexperienced like Wein himself was.

"You stay put, Lowell," commanded the Ostian's captor, shifting himself off of his scaled mount's saddle. "We'll come get you once we find a place to rest the wyverns." Wein merely scoffed indignantly.
"And where, pray tell, could I possibly be going right now?" he asked rhetorically, flexing himself against his bindings to emphasize his lack of ability to disobey the soldier's order. "To the grave maybe? It's awfully cold out here. Are you trying to freeze me to death? I doubt I'd be of much use to your commanders dead."

The soldier, who had begun tying up his reigns, paused, giving Wein an odd look, before reaching under the captive man and pulling out a large woolen blanket. He unfurled the blanket, and with a flick of his wrists, let the thick covering fall squarely on top of the Ostian, concealing him entirely.

"Excellent. It's not like there's anything to see here anyways," Wein muttered, his voice muffled by the woolen barrier now between him and his captor. "After all, all this place is is SNOW!" The archer's protests were met with a grin from the soldier he was addressing.
"I don't remember you having such a sarcastic tongue," the latter observed, as he turned and walked away. Wein shook his head.
"Well being abducted, strapped to a wyvern, and spirited away like a bag of thieves' gold does that to people!"

And so the archer was left, cold and alone outside a town he knew nothing about in a land he was not familiar with, with only occasional snorts and growls of well trained apex predators to keep him company.

[Garnet]

The red haired man stepped up to the counter, and shouldered his way between a couple of tavern goers, taking his armaments off and leaning the shield against the stool he'd claimed as his own. A moment later, the heavy blade thudded onto the floor and was carefully propped against the counter.

"Barkeep, get me a pint, and a piece of whatever your hunters have dragged through the fire recently. And it looks like your establishment is about to get more crowded."

The man behind the counter, a weathered looking man with a rough beard who looked like he used to swing a sword before filling mugs, set down the cup he'd been polishing and looked askance at Garnet. "What do you mean, Boy? The army outside town finally coming to quench their thirst and fill their bellies? I's expecting it."

"A cluster of soldiers, and unless I miss my guess, a group of wyvern riders that just flew by overhead could be joining us."

"Wyverns?" Some of the room's more attentive occupants heard the conversation and joined Garnet in watching the barkeeps reaction. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, before he spit on the floor, dropped the rag he'd been using on the mug to the ground, and wiped it around with his foot for a few moments. At which point Garnet hoped that they cleaned their dish rags well here.

"...Wyverns.... Can't say I was expecting them. They'll get the same treatment as the rest of them. As long as they don't cause trouble here, I've got no quarrel with them. Same as with the army's troops. You came in with them too, didn't ya?" The barkeep seemed unconcerned or unimpressed with Garnet, or the weapons propped against the counter. He probably saw things like that all the time. He started shuffling about and getting Garnet's order ready as he waited for an answer.

Garnet didn't answer immediately. He was trying to puzzle out whether the keep was just guessing, or whether he actually knew the truth. Garnet had made an effort to approach the town from a different direction than the rest of the army. The merc swordsman didn't have a reason to withold the truth from him though.

"I've been traveling with them recently. And making myself useful in exchange for some shelter and supplies."

"Then you'd better keep them civil while they're here. It'd put a bad taste in my mouth to have to toss you boys out onto the street." Food and drink was plated for Garnet as the man finished, and they exchanged coin.

Define civil.... Garnet thought to himself, a little miffed. Always it seemed, people expected the worst around here. And then they expected him to handle it. He was whining to himself mentally now and he knew it, but damn if he wasn't getting tired of being the anchor of stability wherever he found himself.

The soldiers entered with raucous laughter among themselves, and immediately set about as if they owned the place. Garnet turned his head, and saw Carson, and his bravos. They were about the hottest of the hotheads of Marle's troops. The trouble of the lot. His day just got worse.

"Barkeep! Get out your best. You've got some hungry fightin men in here, and we been dry for far too long!"

Garnet doggedly continued eating his... whatever the kind of meat was that they'd given him. Hoping that this wasn't going to turn into a mess before he finished his meal.

[Wein Lowell]

Despite the small comfort of the woolen blanket that had been placed so casually on top of him, the cold was beginning to get to Wein, and no amount of false courtesy would be improving the archer's mood any time soon. But then again, who could blame him? He was being treated like a rag doll, and punished for crimes he did not commit. And even then, even if he was Niew, even if he had done as accused, he hardly believed that losing a war counted as a war crime punishable by death.

Dammit Niew, you're not allowed to be dead, thought the Ostian as he struggled futilely against his bindings. Lose to Etruria, fine, I can forgive you. But you need to stay alive! You need to so I can show you how much better I am than you! But flex as he might, Wein wasn't about to escape his bindings. He wasn't going to be showing anyone much of anything if he couldn't get off of this wyvern.

What to do? the archer thought, thinking of how he might turn the situation to his advantage. I can't break out with brute strength, and it's not like somebody is going to come untie me. If I just had something sharp... And that was when it came to him. Sharp. His knife! He always kept it in his boot. If they didn't search him thoroughly, they wouldn't have found it. Twisting his hips, he tried lifting his legs up to his hand so he could reach inside his footwear. It was tough, but he managed to get his fingers in the mouth of his boot, and to his good fortune, felt the wooden handle of his hunting knife. Excellent! Using his middle and pointer fingers like tweezers, he grabbed the knife and slowly pulled it out of the its leather holster. He had to be careful, because if he dropped it, he had no way of reaching it.

The archer's patience paid off as Wein successfully managed to extract the knife, and having done so, wrapped his fingers fully around the hilt. He swiftly went to work on his bindings, cutting each cord one by one and watching them fall away. As the last one severed, Wein felt a renewed vigor flow through his veins. He was free. He rolled off the wyvern, careful to not announce his new freedom, and set off towards the town.

[Garnet]

Ugh... By the Saint, they sound like pirates.... If there was one thing that the red-headed merc didn't like, it was disorder. Now drinking wasn't bad in and of itself, but from what he knew of these men, and from how they were acting now, he knew that there would be trouble. The absent tag of that thought was "unless he stepped in". It was absent, because Garnet had already dropped his food on his plate and wheeled about towards the group. The scowl painted on his face had been enough to frighten some of the new recruits of the militia he'd been a part of back home, but these men seemed unphased by it.

"Look who's here! Our fearless pincussion friend, Garnet." Garnet grunted as Carson stood up and clapped him on the back, still feeling the stiffness from his more recent injuries. That clap on the back had started up a soft throbbing in a couple of places too.

"C'mere Garnet. Tell us what an enterprising life you lead. An open mercenary! Here one day, and gone the next.... We think its about time you were gone."

This statement took the swordsman by surprise. Sure, he could understand how some career soldiers would dislike men like him, but Carson hadn't seemed that sort off their meetings. In fact, it was more of a surprise that Carson was even still around.

"That's an interesting sentiment, Carson. Lucky for me that's not your call, because I like it here." Quickly, this was elevating from simply trying to prevent his day from being interupted, to showing these louts just how far their power didn't extend.

"I don't think you're understanding me, Garn. I don't care, -ack!" About midway through the sentence, Garnet had decided to hell with it. Order and balance was overated, and these boys needed a language given to them which they could understand. He took Carson by the throat, and shoved with his other hand on the man's chest hard enough to knock the man over. Before he could hit the ground though, the Merc hero released Carson's throat, and grabbed a piece of the man's armor, dragging him towards the door, and picking up his greatsword on the way out.

"Sorry if there's a mess, I'll be back to pay for lunch in a moment." About at this point, Garnet was already to the door. He'd not waited around only to be set on by Carson's "Bravos". It was only now that they'd realized what in fact was actually going on, and were all racing around the table to follow. Garnet and Carson were out the door by the time they caught up. Heaving his arm muscles, he sent Carson rolling across the snow trodden ground, and stepped sideways, sword half raised towards the other cluster of men.

"Get up Carson. If you want me to leave, you'll have to do more than ask nicely!" Garnet jammed the blade of his sword down into the ground, and stepped forward, punching his fist into an open palm. "You wanna go? Come on."

Carson got up angrily, still holding his throat where Garnet had hit him, and spat on the ground. "There's alot of us, and just one of you, Sellsword. Even you wouldn't take those odds. Beat him around, Boys!"

That issue of numbers had occurred to Garnet. He just hadn't found a solution to it yet. Damn. His one hope was that someone in the crowd forming around them would stand up for him. He didn't have alot of hope for that from what he'd seen so far though.

The Bravos charged him, and while common sense told Garnet to up and run, uncommon sense was what was ruling right now. At least no one was openly using weapons. Even Carson wouldn't do that. Or, so he hoped. Garnet faked a right hook at the first of the brutes charging him, but instead shot a left jab into the man's face, before shoving him aside and charging straight into the second man charging him. The impact was solid, and Garnet felt every bone in his body shaken. He managed to stay on his feet as the second man bounced off and fell back. That was about where the red headed mercs forward progression stopped. He felt an impact connect with... somewhere on his head. The ringing was too loud to discern exactly where. He stumbled back and tried to fend off an attack from connecting with his head again, only to take a hit to his gut. He fell over backwards from the force, and a moment later felt a couple of hands gripping him by the shoulders, dragging him back.

Carson meanwhile followed in the drag trail of Garnet, plucking the greatsword from the ground as he followed his men to a side street, and using it as a walking stick.

[Wein Lowell]

Wein stumbled through town with his captor's blanket over his shoulders like an overly large coat in an attempt to fight off the air's icy chill. He wasn't dressed for this kind of weather, as he hadn't expected to go from Bernese heat to Ilian cold in such a short amount of time. Just goes to show you should always be prepared.

As the archer walked, he found it slightly harder than normal to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead of him, and was thus unsteady in his steps. Most likely this was a lasting effect of the drugs used on him, and Wein couldn't be sure of exactly when said effect would wear off. Hopefully, sooner rather than later...

But before he could mull any longer over his abnormal condition, the Ostian's ears caught wind of shouting down the road. Had the wyvern riders already found him missing? If so, they were faster than Wein had expected, but something was telling him that the crowd ahead had nothing to do with wyvern riders. Even so, that didn't stop Wein from pulling his blanket up a little higher, if just to better obscure him from the watchful eyes of a crowd.

Turning the corner, Wein spotted the source of the commotion. A red headed man was being wailed on by a group of men, and a crowd was beginning to gather. Upon seeing their uniforms, the archer instinctively ducked behind the nearest wall, before realizing that these soldiers were Ilian, and thus had nothing to do with the soldiers that had accosted him. Taking a deep breath, the archer mustered enough courage to poke his head out far enough to see the soldiers dragging the now downed red-head into a side street. The Ostian's brow furrowed. They weren't in armor, and were cowardly ganging up on a seemingly unarmed man, which made Wein think this had nothing to do with official business. That man needed help.

Wein hid back behind his wall. Sure, the man needed help, but hey, that didn't mean it was Wein's job to help. He had his own problems to worry about; in fact, his first priority needed to be to find a way to safely escape this town, or at least to find a hideaway to stay in for the time being. He didn't need to go picking a fight with a bunch of unruly soldiers just to get himself in more trouble with more military. Right? Right. No, the man would have to deal with it on his own.

But after taking a step in the away direction, the Ostian noble felt his body come to a halt. No, that wasn't right. He couldn't just leave like this. That man was practically getting lynched, and whatever the soldiers' reasons, nobody deserved that. Besides, what would a hero do?

A hero would help, which meant that Wein was going to do just that. He'd worry about his own hide later. But if he was going to play the hero, he needed a plan more effective than "Run in, get taken down, end up like the other guy". So the archer did a quick survey of the area. There didn't seem to be anything to help him at first, but then he noticed a couple empty barrels a ways away, and next to them a staircase up to the outdoor balcony of the tavern. Hmm, empty barrel dropped from the roof. Not a great plan, but it was better than nothing. At the very least it would distract.

Quickly grabbing one of the barrels, the archer darted up the stairs, coming to a stop one the balcony. From his position, he could see the soldiers huddled around the red-haired man, with one of them brandishing an awfully deadly looking greatsword. He had to act fast. Hoisting the barrel over his head, he prepared to throw the unwieldy object.

"Hey, pick on someone your own...uh, numbers!" he shouted, botching his heroic entry line before hurling the oak barrel at the group of men. However, in the process, a wave of faintness fell over the would be hero, causing Wein to lose his balance and go tumbling over the edge of the balcony. The fall could have ended up being very painful, if not for the fact that his improvised blanket coat snagged itself on the balcony's edge, creating a very convenient lifeline for the flailing archer to grab on to. The end result was a mitigated to a snow covered Wein with a slightly sore bum sitting dumbly in front of the men whom he was going to so heroically fend off.

"Errr..."