Gathering Storms in the West (Edessa)

[Clair Feldsky]

Edessa. Towering spire of the north. Known for it's intimidating command of the rugged landscape around it. A fitting home for the mercenary lords of Ilia, and a fitting fortress of for the people of a cold barren land.

From inside the walls, Clair noticed that the feeling of Ilia was considerably more tame than it's frigid exterior. They'd arrived recently, taking skypaths over the mountains, and waiting out storms in caves and shelters that weren't open to those traveling on foot. It had been a difficult journey. Speed mixed with caution had been their guide through the mountains. She and the other Mistral Knights had had to ride doubles to get their few non rider members through the Ilian mountains safely. By the end of it, everyone was feeling the stress from their trip. Whether it be the cold, or just the difficult paths they'd taken.

They'd all been glad when they'd finally arrived, though Mutt still hadn't stopped complaining about how his backside never wanted to meet a saddle again. She'd laughed when she'd heard him say that, he'd paid her no mind though. Too bad for him, riding was probably never going away for him. Not as long as he served in her command, at least.

She glanced around the inn they were staying at: The Snowball's Chance. She wasn't sure what to make of the name, but it was large and clean, and had a sizable dining hall with a roaring fire going during peak hours. Right now, it was a little before those peak hours. The roaring fire wasn't called for, so the innkeeper tended to it once in a while to keep it going.

Clair glancd around the room. It seemed well used, when she looked at it. It was kept in good shape though. A few patrons sat here and there around the room, some gathered and talking in hushed conversations. For once, she didn't feel overtly suspicious though. She could even say that she felt content. She was taking a few minutes of leisure with a mug of spiced cider, and it was glorious. Not the cider, but these few moments. The cider was delicious, of course, but it was this small place in time where she didn't feel like she had to be somewhere that was truly valuable to her. Clair was hard on herself out of habit and intent. She struggled to settle down long enough to relax, because she always remembered just one more thing that needed doing. If she wasn't doing something active, she would often brood over the Prophet's warmongering, or the bloodshed in Bern. Or even of the struggles of the people in Ilia. For now though, her Mistrals were out on the city like she was, and she was just sipping her mug of steaming cider while sitting at a table in the Snow Ball's Chance.

Some time today, she expected to hear from the Lords of Ilia. They had called her back, after all. She'd sent word of her arrival soon after the Mistrals had made it to the city. That night, she'd gone to bed early, just trying to recover from the journey. Tonight though, she hoped to be in the tavern later. Maybe it would do some good for her to see people coming into the Snowball for an evening's gathering.

[Richter Abend]

"We're here," announced Richter as the group approached the gates of the City of the Spire. The intensity of a trek that continued, even now, to echo through the ex-commander's bones made it feel as if it had taken them years to get here, but in truth it hadn't even been two since his last visit. He had no idea what to expect. Would he be jailed for his abandonment of the duty the Council had tasked him with? Would he be executed? Deserting was a crime punishable by death, after all. Maybe he'd be welcomed back as just slighly more than a criminal, given the circumstances of his arrival. Obviously Richter hoped that would be the case, but he was first and foremost a realist: this visit could very well spend his end. So rather than hoping for salvation he decided he rather just hope that he'd be allowed to deliver the message he'd come so far to deliver.

"Step carefully," he said in hushed tones, looking each of his companions in the eyes. "I don't imagine they'll be too thrilled to see me." The pink haired warrior shook his head. "But we're not here for a fight. if anyone tries to arrest me, don't get in their way." Satisfied with his instruction, Richter turned back towards the gate and pulled his gimp arm under his fur coat. It was best if the guards didn't know of his affliction, as if they had indeed been given orders to execute him on sight, he'd rather not bolster their confidence by allowing them to see that he was crippled. All they should realize is that Richter Abend, the Winter Lion, was here to speak with the Lords of Edessa.

"You travelers look like you've come a long way. Well-armed too."

The voice, a man's, came from somewhere above them. Probably one of the gate guards. The doors of Edessa were kept closed, so there was no reason to have guards standing in the snow for the duration of their collective watch.

"Dressed like that, I can only assume you came through Carrhae. If that's true, I don't envy you. What business do you have in Edessa?"

Richter looked up to the parapet where the man addressing him stood, then replied to the question with a nod. They hadn't identified him on sight, which meant he probably didn't have wanted posters plastered all over the city. That or the man was too far away to see him, though the pink hair usually gave it away. Either way, this was a good start.
"We did come through the pass. We're here to speak with the Council." The pink haired warrior announced his group's intentions with a voice both coarse and authoritative. The response he recieved began with a laugh.

"You're here to see the Council?" the guard asked, incredulous.
"Yes," came Richter's reply. The man on the parapet shook his head.
"That's like... well that's like marching up to Edessa and asking to see the council. That's what it's like." The guard turned his head and laughed at someone out of view. Richter scowled, but said nothing. The man looked back, grin still on his face. "So just who are you?"
"Richter Abend."

Silence. The guard looked at the group, then back at whomever he been laughing at, then back to the group.

"Stay right there," was all the man said before disappearing from view.

[Guinevere von Altenburg]

Guinevere listened as Richter addressed the group, and she wasn't happy about it. She had assured him in the past that everything would be fine when they got here, but she was admittedly getting nervous. Plus, she didn't like the idea that she was supposed to do nothing if Richter was arrested. It was half a joke, but she was his bodyguard. Even more than that, he was her friend. She didn't want to see him dragged away in chains and just have to stand by doing nothing. But in the end, she was a soldier. And a soldier followed orders. She made sure that her lance was secured on her back, so that even if she had the urge to do something, she'd be unable to.

Gwen continued to listen as Richter talked to the gate guard, keeping silent. She knew it wasn't her place to talk and that Richter would have this under control. She tried to fight back the sense of dread that was growing inside her, even more so after the guard ordered them to stay where they stood. She had no doubt that they'd be let inside, especially after hearing Richter's name. It was what would happen once they got inside that scared her.

She refused to let any of this show, however. Instead, she stood tall behind Richter in perfect soldier fashion. She might not be able to do much, but she could present calm. Mavick might have been in a situation like this before, but Rilcha certainly hadn't. There was no need to make him even more nervous than she was sure he already was. And hey, if she was luck, maybe she'd put a little of that fear into the guards, too.

[Clair Feldsky]

It really was different, being able to relax a little. The Falcoknight saw clearly how tense she'd been her whole life. She'd always felt guilty when she took time to herself, so even her time off duty was spent improving herself. Reading maps of the area, reading news and reports of goings on across the world, and caring for weapons and armor relentlessly. The closest she'd had to down time had been her time with her friends in the armies she'd been a part of, or now time with her Knights. She didn't want to keep going like that though. She wanted something more than the next mission to look forward to. She wanted more to appreciate than loyalty from her friends and allies.... She wanted a life to call her own.

Cheering erupted somewhere outside the Snowball's Chance, startling Clair from her reverie. She could hear that the voices were loud and boisterous, but she couldn't quite understand them until the front door burst open wide, and a young brown haired man in a guardsman's uniform and cloak stepped inside excitedly.

"Three cheers for for my Father in the guard! Retirin' today!" Cheers started as an old gnarled soldier walked into the Snowball's Chance, wearing a smile on his face. He looked a little stiff, but he still walked with pride as he moved. Clair could hear the cheers from the crowd outside, and saw mugs being lifted in respect inside the tavern as well. She saw the pair walking inside, and picking a table nearby. Within a few moments, all the rest of the troopers outside were pouring in through the door as well, letting the cold in with them. She didn't mind though. This man had been faithful to her country for many years by the looks of it. The idea of him retiring happily brought that smile back to her face, but it did beg the question. What would she even do in his circumstance? All she had was her outfit. Maybe if she watched him, he'd show her a glimpse.

"Stoley, break out your strings." The young man called out. "Get us some music, hey?" One of the other men got out a stringed instrument of some sort with a "Yessir", and started tuning it quietly at the corner of their table.

They must have been just switching off shift. Clair watched as the young man and his father were joined by around another dozen or so Ilians. They were noisy enough to fill the previously quiet diner, but while it might have bothered her at one time, this didn't. Shortly after their drinks were carried out to them, Clair started noticing others entering one or two at a time, people began filtering in, and before she knew it, the Snowball's Chace was bustling with people. She blinked a little in surprise, as she realized that the quiet little Snowball's Chance she'd been relaxing in was now filled with the sounds of laughter and music. This much for one man's retirement? Just who was he? She looked over again from her table, and tried to catch a glimpse of the man. She couldn't recognize him though.

[Mavick]

Mavick cast Richter a sidelong glance. "Indeed, I imagine they'll be rather irritated by your presence." he concurred, his eyes slowly moving over the wall. The last time he had been here, he had had an at length discussion about how he might go about capturing this city. Now he had to help Richter try and save it. "I may end up sharing a cell with you - As no doubt they'll believe I persuaded you to abandon your cause. I was rather vocal about my disapproval of your mission." he reminded the mercenary commander.

The faintest of smirks formed on his face as Richter announced himself to the gate guard. "I do hope you know what you're doing, Commander." He said, however, once the guard was out of sight. "I have no desire to freeze to death in an Ilian prison cell."

[Rilcha Winters]

Richa had placed himself behind Richter and beside Gwen, as content as the boy could be in his tedious position, their tedious position. To be quite honest he was sure that the only reason he hadn't pissed himself at the mere prospect of Richter getting arrested was because his bladder had already long shriveled up in the face of all the other terrors he had faced in the past few weeks. Each one was worse than the next and his long proven lack of luck led him to believe that nothing better was likely to come along.

Then there was the threat of arrest that he didn't quite understand but couldn't muster up the courage to question, it wasn't a good time to ask anymore either. From what he knew Richter was a hero, why would anyone see fit to arrest him? The boy hoped it was a joke that he had merely misunderstood, Mavick was speaking so seriously about prison cell arrangements though that he was inclined to believe otherwise.

"Gwen..." he whispered, finally having decided to speak up as he quaked in horrified anticipation with the tense air. The boy took a small step over to the right, getting closer to the woman so that he could speak without being overheard, the questions he had for her were embarrassing. Both Mavick and Richter couldn't know.

"Why would they not like Richter?"

Green eyes raised to the woman for guidance, unable to understand just why Ilians would be hostile to one of their own and seeing her as the only one he could turn to for such a query. Even if it was only with her the boy had calmed a little, not nearly as skittish as he had been before.

[Clair Feldsky]

That's it! Come on in, Everyone! Clair watched from her booth, as people got up and got lively. They couldn't all know each other, could they? And yet, before long they were clapping hands and beating fists on tables to a lively rhythm that the player had picked up. She had a hard time believing that the whole thing hadn't been planned out ahead of time, but it had the feel of something spur of the moment. Something alive and thrilling....Not cold and dead like all of her thinking and planning. Like her life....

"Clair...." The Falcoknight turned her head with a start at the sound of a woman's voice nearby. She hadn't realized how lost she was in thought, and she was even more startled by how low the voice had sounded. She turned to see Delia, the closest thing to a "friend" she had in her outfit. The ones that stayed respected and trusted her, but Delia knew more about what was under the mask of command than any of them. Clair returned the trust.

"Delia. Back to the Snowball already? I'd thought you would want to spend more time out on the city."

"The city's all well and good, Commander, but let's remember that I have something of a reputation in these parts. Maybe it'd be best if I stayed a little closer this time. I was more surprised that you were down here at the party? Ol' Henry's retiring tonight. I thought I'd have to drag you out here m'self with the way you clam up."

"Clam up?! I-"

"Clair, we're worried for you. It's been months, and I've hardly seen you take a break from your soldiering. If it's not patrolling, it's some sort o paperwork. If it's not that, you're doing drills in the yard, or something else equally soldiery." As the older knight spoke, Clair made an effort to calm herself. Everything Delia said was true, and Clair had made it that way.... She wasn't sure that she trusted herself to have an interest outside of her career anymore. Not really. She could dream every once in a while, but there was danger in other interests. People had spikes sharper than any warrior's blade, and she'd taken a deep injury in the past.

"Please Clair, just take an afternoon to yourself. It'll set me and the rest of the knights at ease."

She didn't really feel comfortable, but something in the blonde haired Arphenian relented. "Del, what do I even do here?" Clair sighed to herself, and gave in the rest of the way. "You're the barhopping expert, after all."

Delia gave one of her gorgeous smiles, and clapped her hands together, rubbing them as though pleased with herself. "The phrase has been applied to me before. What do you do? Well, step one was getting yourself a drink. You've done that already. Step two is blend in. Do what others do." She nodded her head towards a more lively area of the floor, where people were clapping and cheering around dancers whirling through steps in the center.

"Cheer. Clap. Admire a little! You see that one over there?" Delia got Clair to her feet as the pair walked over closer. She was pointing out a an athletic man dancing around the ring. "He's a handsome one, and it looks like he knows what he's doing too."

Clair couldn't help but roll her eyes. If Delia was attempting to play matchmaker now. She started to look back towards her friend, but then felt a shove from behind. "Oh! He's changing partners. Go!"

Clair felt her eyes go wide as she suddenly found herself stumbling out onto the dance floor, and right into the hands of the man that Delia had been pointing out. She'd barely caught her feet before she was being dragged along in the dance, feeling as though she had two left feet, and was all thumbs. She didn't have time to be furious at Delia, and she only felt panick at her newfound clumsiness in the dance. It was embarrassing, but all she could manage to do was keep her feet as the dancer pulled her along with him and whirled his way through the motions. Laughing, singing and clapping enveloped her, and she realized that this was what she had been missing out on of her people over the years. It was like tasting sugar for the first time to someone who'd locked herself away from it for so many years.

The dance kept going longer than she'd thought it would, and she managed to master her feet a little better before she was spun away, and came to rest at the edge of the gathering again. She put her hand to her breast and found herself winded from the dance, and wearing a smile. Across the way, she saw Delia talking amiambly with some of the tavern goers. She glanced over at Clair, a knowing smile on her face. She knew what she'd just done. Clair had been committed to helping those of her country who were too weak to help themselves before, but that focus had dominated her. Now she'd had a glimpse of the excitement and thrill in her own home, and it changed her perceptions. The blinders had been removed. If this was part of her people, it was worth preserving as well, and she would gladly dedicate herself to keeping this life and spark alive.

[Richter Abend]

"Try not to worry, Mavick," said Richter with a slight shake of his head. "I'll take responsibility for everything."

Richter looked up at the wall walk above the gate. Still no one. If it was taking the man this long to get down the stairs, then the Ilian could only assume that he was gathering men to bring with him. It was unnecessary, as the Winter Lion had no intention of resisting arrest if they were indeed planning on arresting him, but there was no way they could no that, and no way, Richter imagined, that he could convince them that was the case.

And after a moment's pause, one of a pair of twin doors, each placed on each side of the main gate, creaked open. Richter sighed. While it would have been impressive to have been able to enter by way of the grand gate of Edessa itself, that gate didn't just open for anyone. Edessa was more a fortress than a center of commerce, and as such the main gate did not need to remain open for regular traffic. In fact, it normally remained closed, only opening for large caravans of soldiers or supplies too big to enter or exit through any of the auxillary doors, and from what Richter heard growing up it was because the main gate itself was both too heavy and too layered to justify opening it for anything that wasn't absolutely mandatory. Supposedly going through the main gate was actually a harder task than just attempting to bore through the stone walls that surrounded the city, but no one had ever gotten far enough into Ilia to try.

From the auxillary door that had opened walked three armed soldiers. They didn't bear themselves aggressively, but from what Richter could see of their faces, they had not come out to give him a personal greeting.

"Hands behind your head, Richter Abend," came the gravelly voice of the shortest of the three, who walked with his two compatriots on either side of him. He was made distinct by a couple of golden embellishments upon his otherwise white and blue armor. Richer figured he was the guard captain.
"You are under arrest for the crime of desertion from official duties borne upon you by the Council of Ilia. You will not be harmed if you do not resist." The captain spoke with authority, but Richter could see the fear of retaliation behind his official bearing. His subordinates were barely holding still. At this point, the pink-maned Ilian could only wonder what kind of stories about him were being passed around the northern pubs.

"Fine," Richter growled, following instructions. He glanced at Mavick, then back at the soldiers. "But allow my companions to be free to go. They've done nothing wrong." The soldiers looked at him for a moment, not sure how to respond, when the man on the left leaned into his captain's ear and began whispering. A couple of nods were shared, then the commanding officer spoke up.
"The short one comes with you," he said, pointing a stubby fnger at Mavick. "The woman and the girl will follow Guard Sjorn into the city." Richter opened his mouth to protest, but before he could the taller man on the left, assumedly Guard Sjorn, gestured for Guinevere and Rilcha to follow him, while the man on the right manuevered behind the two criminals to begin sheperding them along, all the while using his spear to motion for Mavick to raise his hands as well.

[Guinevere von Altenburg]

Perhaps it was Richter's influence that had Guinevere wearing a similar look on her face as the Ilian. She strongly disliked this situation, as there was really nothing she could do besides follow orders. And while following orders was something she was good at, this was one time she wished she wasn't. She was somewhat surprised when the commanding officer said that Mavick would had to accompany Richter. Then again, Mavick had known Richter for longer than she had, so this may be part of something she didn't know.

It seemed as though Rilcha, whom the guard had mistake for a girl, and herself would be alright, but you could never be sure. Who could say what would actually happen when they followed this guard into the city. Hopefully if anything did happen, she'd be able to fight her way out of it. It was around then that she realized she had yet to answer Rilcha's question about Richter. She leaned over slightly so that she could answer him. It probably wasn't the best time to do so, but she had a feeling it she said nothing, it would serve to only make him more nervous. "I'll tell you why soon, I promise. Now's not really the time for such a story."

Standing back up, she locked eyes with the guard they were to follow. Giving him a steely look and a curt nod, she spoke aloud. "Lead the way, Guard Sjorn." Gwen took a step as though to follow the guard before pausing next to Richter. She wanted to put a comforting hand on him and tell him that everything would be ok. That wasn't really Richter's style, though. So instead she locked eyes with him, letting her look say all that she wanted to say but couldn't. She gave him a slow nod before opening her mouth once again. "See you soon." It wasn't much, but it was all she could really say in front of the guards. Hey, maybe it would even intimidate them slightly.

[Mavick]

"I should think so, Commander," Mavick replied, staring up at the larger man with a dull expression on his face. "Considering the fact that I refused to take the job in the first place, and am therefore not responsible for any failings along the way."



And, of course, the guards came to arrest them. Why wouldn't they come to arrest them? Richter was, after all, a very popular man in Elibe these days. For his part, the tactician was already running every possible breakout scenario through his head while Richter tried to reason with armed men. Mavick would give him credit, he managed to get two of them off. As for himself, however...



"Don't I at least get a run down of my crimes? I assume I must have done something if you're taking me as well." he asked aloud with a sigh that just screamed boredom at the entire horse and pony show they were running. "You can't very well arrest a man for desertion when he is not of your country and explicitly refused to work for your government. Well, you could, actually, seeing as you have spears and I don't, but it's in very poor taste and lacking in legal sensibilities."

[Rilcha Winters]

A soft gasp broke from the child's throat, hiccups slowly brewing as he pressed himself desperately to Gwen's side. He was nervous, as undeniably dismayed as ever in the face of the great unknown. While Richter looked the picture of cool and collected about the entire ordeal, and Rilcha of course trusted him without any doubts, the child still felt frightened for him. In fact, as odd as it was with Rilcha's usual state of mind, he was far more afraid for the Hero than he had ever been for himself.

The realization only made him press himself to Gwen even harder for comfort, arms wrapped around her waist as he shuffled along. He refused to look up, refused to watch what was going to happen to the two that they were being separated from. Gwen said that she'd them soon, but even that reassurance wasn't enough to quell the prickling bout of fright he had been dealt.

He knew he had to say something, give some sort encouragement to show his trust just as the wonderful blonde woman had done, but his mind was blank. "See you soon..." he sniffled, words muffled as he refused to raise his head and show his flushed face, parroting Gwen.

[Clair Feldsky]

"That didn't look so bad, Clair. After all, you didn't fall down. Well,... not too much." The familiar voice of the brash pegasus knight serving as her second spoke up from nearby, filled with daring amusement and teasing. Clair gave the woman a quick glare, but then it softened into a frown. She hated being surprised. Especially after one rather nasty one had almost been the end of her. She'd needed to see this though. She'd needed to remember and experience again what it was that she was fighting to protect. It was people. It was community. This wasn't just here in Ilia though. She'd seen this same type of event and values from a distance over her travels. Deep down, she knew that she fought the Inquisitorial army because it crushed this freedom and individuality of the nations underneath its grinding dominion.

Listen to me. Keep this up, Clair, and you'll be labeled as some idealist knight. Wasn't that what they'd been all along though?

Somewhere Del had gotten a drink and was just taking a sip of it as Clair turned her head to fix a stare at the green armored pegasus knight. "Delia, if you do that to me again, I'll have you mucking stalls for the whole band for a month." She started to walk past, but rested a hand on her taller friend's shoulder as Del started to frown at what Clair had said.

"And, thanks." Delia still seemed a little unsure about what had went down there, but she seemed satisfied with the outcome. Clair was as well. Storming woman.... She seems to know just how to push the envelope with her me since we've been traveling together so long.

Clair gathered up her things to herself and stepped outside just in time to almost bump into a messenger in the orange livery of Lord Ian, essentially, the head of the Council. He looked at her, and started to speak as she stepped to the side of the front entrance outside. "Commander Clair Feldsky?"

Only people who didn't know her personally used that name with her, but clerks and messengers of the Council Lords would qualify for that.

"Speaking." The Falcoknight let out a quiet breath, getting ready for this encounter. She'd been recalled from Bern by them. She'd been contemplating going up to see them today herself, but had decided to wait for them to send word instead.

"I'm to inform you that you are invited to join the Lord's of Ilia in the Council Chambers of the Edessa." Now, at last they'd sent word. She wasn't sure if she would have waited, given the chance to do this another way, but she was ready to move forward now.

"Go and inform the Council Lords that I'll be up to join them directly." It seemed like it had been so long since she'd been here last. She'd been awed by the majesty of the place and the people she was speaking with before. Their responsibility to the nation was a powerful commitment.... Since then, she'd grown up, been embittered by loss, and found hope in what she was still fighting for. Somehow, she expected a very different showing this time around, even if she had earned their favor by carrying out her duties in the Bernese Conflict.

She saw the messenger turn to sprint away, but paid him little mind once he had headed on his way. She had her own trip to make. Let the messenger hurry on ahead and give word. That was his task. She wasn't going to dawdle though. She set a steady ground eating pace, carrying Stormlight and using it like a walking stick as she headed on the seemingly ever upwards climb to the entrance to the Spire proper.

It was the sound at the sound of guardsman marching up the road that she turned her head eventually. A little ways further back from her, she turned to look and felt a stab in her heart at what she saw. It was Richter Abend. Face worn and armor rougher than she remembered, but there was no mistaking the pink haired swordsman. Her old Commander, the one who'd left her behind, and the one she'd not followed because of her duty. Her thrice blasted loyalty to Ilia and the damnable hope she'd had that they could actually solve the feud with Bern.... She'd failed. Her face stung with it's inability to choose between scowling in smoldering anger at how he'd left, or spark with the joy of seeing him again. Now, however, wasn't a good time to do either.

She looked back at them, and quickly noticed a familiar short statured form keeping him company. From what she could see of Mavick, he looked worn as well. They were under arrest, and some of the guardsmen of the city were marching them up the roads. Clair would hate to be in their shoes right then.... She wasn't sure she could truly condemn Richter leaving as he had. She hadn't been able to when he left, and she still couldn't.

Turning back with a huff, she picked up her pace to make it up to the Spire. She would be strong, and she would get there first so she could be present for whatever they intended with the Winter Lion.

[Richter Abend]

“Aiding a criminal” growled the guard captain as he walked. He spoke as if the answer should have been obvious. “It’s quite apparent that you weren’t coming to turn him in.” The man lifted up the visor of his helmet as the four men entered the city, giving a quick nod to a soldier that stood by the door of the guardhouse. At his captain’s gesture, the man disappeared inside the fortification, then the commanding officer continued forth with his subordinate and acquired criminals close behind. Richter couldn’t help but wonder what command his captor had just issued, but the pink haired Ilian realized that reading the social cues of taciturn men was hardly his expertise.

So rather than dwell on the admittedly undecipherable, the Winter Lion turned his attention to gathering crowd that had formed up around them. He tried to locate Guinevere and Rilcha, but it seemed Sjorn had already gone his separate way with them, leaving Richter to hope they were actually being escorted somewhere safe and not just a different holding cell. Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe he should have come alone, or maybe just not come at all. If the only thing he accomplished today was getting his friends locked up, then he was a poor leader indeed.

Richter shook his head. They’d be alright. Rilcha would likely panic, but Guinevere was with him, and if anyone could keep that idiot boy in check it was her. She was much gentler than he was, and Rilcha seemed to respond well to it. And Mavick... well, Mavick was with him at the very least. If things got rough, they’d deal with it together. Comrades-in-arms.

The pink-haired ex-commander quickly got his fill of taking in the crowd and decidedly kept his eyes forward. There were too many people, too many eyes, all fixated on him like he was some kind of hero, or some kind of villain, or just some kind of freak. He understood why, but he hated it. There were positives and negatives to being the Winter Lion, but at times like these it seemed like the negatives far outweighed the positives.

“Step aside!” barked the guard captain as a group of civilians got just a bit too close. All backed off except two, two men, one of which who got up in Richter’s face.
“So this is the Winter Lion?” he sneered, looking the pink-haired Ilian up and down. “Ah you don’t look so tough, traitor.” The man snorted like a boar, then spat a nasty hunk of phlegm onto Richter’s foot. The pink-haired warrior’s snarled back, his first instinct being to smack the man upside the head, but stifled his anger for Mavick’s sake. It wouldn’t help anyone for them to get into a street brawl while under arrest. Unfortunately, however, the guard captain didn’t have quite the same handle on his own temper. He blew past Richter in a hurry, grabbed the heckler’s collar in a vice-like grip, and forced him to the ground. It was obvious he didn’t appreciate people flouting his orders, but Richter had to wonder how such a short tempered man became guard captain. Handling the Winter Lion must be putting him on a short fuse.

“Keep your spit in your mouth, or I’ll make sure you never spit again,” he growled, his face mere inches away from the civilians. But before the man had a chance to respond, the other man who had been standing behind him threw a well-placed kick into the side of the guard captain’s head, rattling the short soldier’s helmet and sending him to the cobblestone.
“Keep your hands off him!” the assailant shouted, bending over and reaching down for the stunned guard. “Guards protect Ilians, not traitors!” He grabbed at the captain’s breastplate, but was quickly struck in the square of his back by the butt of the spear of the guard that had been prodding at Mavick. He then twirled his weapon around, aiming the pointy end at the two downed hecklers, as if daring them to get back to their feet.

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you!” he shouted. He looked to the captain, who was getting to his feet. “Are you alright, sir?” The captain simply waved him off. A commotion had begun to rise in the surrounding crowd, but so far no one else had made a move for Richter. One could tell by the look in his eyes that he realized things could quickly get out of hand.
“Get these idiots to the guardhouse,” he ordered, pointing in the direction of the gate, from which two more soldiers were making their way through the crowd. “They can spend a night in a cell. I need to get these two to the Spire.” Once on his feet, he motioned Richter and Mavick along, trusting them to not agitate things any further by trying to run now that their spear toting escort was otherwise occupied.

"Right, let's get moving," was all Richter said.

[Clair Feldsky]

The streets were crowded enough that passage wasn't a given. She did have an advantage in that she looked the part of an Ilian commander. If that wasn't enough she was carrying a reflective golden lance that threw sparks off of its surface from time to time. That was normally enough to clear the way for her in all but the most difficult traffic. She worked on pulling herself together. This would be a storm of emotions for her, and she doubted that she would find a calm in it. She hoped that she could still see the right path through these events though. For her. For her outfit.... And even for the one the guards were bringing to the Council Lords now.

There was a raucous from the crowds behind, and Clair whipped her head around, feeling loose hair strands caught in the chill street winds. Looking down through the streets she'd seen Richter and his guards coming up, she heard the noise and saw how the street was taking note of events. Wherever he went, it seemed that trouble occurred. Whether he was finding it for himself or not, it came to him. Normally, she would't be worried by it. He'd been capable enough to bypass most problems that tried to come at him. Here though, he couldn't do so. Should he really be subjected to this kind of treatment? She found herself moving back through the crowds the way she had just come. She got there in time to see a few guards leading away some bruised but furious looking pair. The remaining Guardsmen looked around warily at a crowd that was riled and could easily turn ugly. Richter just looked... tired.

The young falcoknight realized something then. She'd been running. She'd always followed someone before, and when the time had come for her to stand up and do what she believed in on her own, she'd failed. She'd gone back to following; run to what was familiar. Whether her refuge had been her commander or her duty, she'd been using it to avoid the hard decisions. She'd been running just now, she realized. Running to the Council Lords and their decisions.... Following what you believed in wasn't wrong, but she'd been using it to avoid the hard choices. Choices she had to make for herself. No more.

*KRACKKK!*

Brilliant yellow light flashed and a single crack rang through the city streets as a with enough force that the Falcoknight felt her ears pop. The sound was enough to cut through the action in the streets. The heat washed over those closest to her as they staggered back from the explosion of light and force coming off of the blast. The street cleared around where she stood. Clair stood at the center, unphased by the lightning burst she'd summoned off of Stormlight, and waited until all eyes were on her.

"These men are under the protection of the Mistral Knights." The air seemed to darken around the lance where she stood, and sparks seemed to be coming off of the woman in white armor as she spoke. Those sparks of magic couldn't compare with the lightning in her eyes right then, however. How disgusting it was, that the people of this city would assault their own guardsmen to get at someone that they knew only through what they'd heard over the mouths of travelers.

"I'd hoped for more restraint from the people of Edessa, but since that is not not the case...," She was speaking in a voice loud enough to fill the streets as looked around, errant sparks still shooting off of her and the thunderlance. "If you've aught to say to them, get in line behind me! And behind the Council Lords." The lance seemed to crackle on its own in her hand to punctuate what she said as she stepped forward towards the guard captain.

"Captain, I would like to assist you in making sure that your charges get to the Spire safely. I was just on my way to the Spire myself, when I heard the racket down here.... Please continue your route." She phrased it as a request, but the tone in which she said it, and the lightning still shining in her eyes made it sound otherwise. The air still was darker around the lance and around Clair, as she fell in rear escort behind the shorter man and the taller man. She met Richter's eyes but only for a moment. She could still feel Stormlight's fury coursing through her. Sometimes it was difficult to judge whether its magic was in her grip, or she in its. She still wasn't even sure what she felt on seeing Richter again, but right then in the throes of Stormlight's release, she realized that she didn't have to pick just one way to feel. How did she feel? She felt everything. Anger at how he'd left her alone. Relief that he was still alive after all this time. Hope at seeing him again, and fear at what had driven him to come back.

They moved up through the streets and and anytime someone gave them even a dirty look there was the burning eyes of Clair Feldsky to meet them, it took a good deal of walking, but ahead she could see the spire growing nearer. It's walls growing taller.

"Why did you come back here." The words practically fell out of her mouth as she spoke. Now wasn't the best time to get into a long discussion. That would come later, but really! "Why in Elibe come back to storming Edessa!?"

[Guinevere von Altenburg]

Guard Sjorn led Guinevere and Rilcha to what Gwen believed to be the center of the city before releasing them from his custody. The soldier watched as the guard walked away, glaring as he did so. She had nothing against the man personally, but he was a part of the city's guard unit that had just separated her from Richter. She had supported his plan because she knew he was too stubborn to be persuaded from it, but despite what she had told it, she never felt good about it. And she felt even worse now that she had been separated from him. With no way of knowing what was happening, she knew she would drive herself crazy just standing around. So, as a way to distract the two of them or the time being, she led Rilcha into a nearby tavern.

Once inside, she let herself fall into a chair at an empty table. She knew that she still had Rilcha's unanswered question to respond to, but she just didn't have it in her right now. After ordering a drink from a waitress who had walked over to them, she let her head fall into her hands. Gwen didn't like not knowing what to do. She couldn't just go storming in, that would only make things worse for everyone. She could write to Rayl, but it would take far too long and she was fairly certain they didn't have that kind of time. Guinevere forced herself to raise her head and look at Rilcha. She had to be strong for him. The boy was all she had right now, and she couldn't afford for him to go to pieces. "We'll get them back, Rilcha. I'm not quite sure how yet, but we will."