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[Lucus Casius]

  "I-  Of course, your highness."

  "Let's go.  Sharne, please, save it for a moment.  This might be important, and he can explain on the way."

[CrimsonEon]

Kaldach's gaze immediately snapped to Sharne. As the discomfort within his hand flared, whatever stoicism he had held in the times they've traveled together completely vanished and was replaced by only the shortest moment of pure rage.
: "Not NOW!"
A brief crimson glow flashed across the mercenary's eye and left arm, and a brief shot of pain contorted his hand, inadvertently loosening his grip on the sheathed Devil Sword. With a brief clatter, the blade fell to the ground, leaving Kaldach even more dazed.
: "...Yell at me as much as you want later. We shouldn't have this conversation here."

[Swordstar]

Sharne stared at Kaldach for a long moment before turning away.

"Fine. You win. Do whatever you want. I'm done."

She stalked out of the throne room, eyes glinting with tears, fed up, frustrated, helpless. He might say talk later but she'd heard that before. He had no interest in listening before, that wasn't going to change. The old lady had been right. She had no chance at saving him.

[IamanElfCollaborator]

Bertholt frowns as Sharne and Kaldach exit the scene, his eyes following them. He had figured it had something to do with the cursed swords that had been as much Kaldach's bane as they had been the enemy's. He didn't pry, however, though every fibre of his being told him to- no, screamed at him to.

This was something Sharne and Kaldach had to sort out on their own, a problem that did not need the illuminating light of Rhea to solve.

Instead, Bert tends to the wounds of those still around, quickly; they might not get the chance to rest, given all the unrest they'd stirred up.

[CrimsonEon]

: "..."
Kaldach, heaving a heavy sigh, slowly lowered himself down to pick up the dark blade off the ground. Carefully, he grasped the strap of the scabbard, avoiding touching the sheath itself, before standing straight and looking at Vaster.
: "Sorry. We'll be out of your way." He stated quietly, before he too exited. His eyes cast a ways further down than normal, yet his face now wore his same stoic expression again.

[GiglameshDespair]

Roux reached over and plucked the knightly crest out of Martyn's hands while Sharne and Kaldach had their regular domestic over his evil murdersword.
"'S mine!"
She held it up to the light to inspect as she began wandering out, grip tight to prevent it being reclaimed.
  "What does 's thing do, any'ow?"

[Blade Master Model 42]

As the group exited the building, they were met with the same guild official standing outside, flanked by about twenty members of the city guard. He shoved a form into Sharne's face, she being the first to exit Vaster's home. "Your group's visitation status is hereby revoked as a consequence of the violence you committed against foreign entities within city walls. Further, each member of your group is banned from entrance to the city for one year. Afterward you may legally return to visit our fine city once again." The form seemed to be a copied ejection letter, naming the date as well as the members of the group. "I'm sure you scarcely have any idea what manner of damage you've caused, but you will not remain to cause more. Guards! Escort them from the city."

The guards dutifully surrounded the group, and one of them spoke up. "Alright people. Let's not make this any harder than it has to be."

[Gaterhyme]

"I think Martyn said it was something knightly."

Not that he knew what that meant in practical terms. Perhaps one of them could pin it on and start putting on airs, some time when they weren't in the middle of being accosted by guards.

[Lucus Casius]

  "It's a crest.  Put it on your mantle and use it as a conversation-starter when you have someone over for lunch.  Beyond that, it-"

Martyn trailed off as they stepped outside, and as the guild official shoved the form in Sharne's face.  The cloaked man read it over her shoulder, expression going from annoyed to grim.  Official order of expulsion, signed by the commander of the guard... Definitely all in order, from the look of things.

Bribery apparently moved fast in this city.

  "If you cared as much for your country as for your coin, Guildsman, you would have more respect for those of your people who died defending your king from imperialist tyrants.  And more respect for those who fought alongside them."

  " At the very least, you would understand that there was more at stake than the size of your wallet and waistline."

Shaking his head, he turned away, and spoke to the guards beside him.

  "We won't resist; I won't begrudge a man his bread, even if it must come from the hand of a man who values wealth above national autonomy.  Though I should hope it's at least a fair share, and you've enough of a collective voice to protect yourselves from his sort when they decide it's economically convenient to remove you."

[Blade Master Model 42]

There was another flash of deep red lightning in the smoke rising from the volcano as the group was escorted out of the city. There was a brief exchange of paperwork at the city gate between the guards on duty there and the contingent escorting them away. The group was marched further away, but only about another hundred yards from the gate. The leader spoke to them again. "Right then. That group of soldiers you fought were headed east. Unless you're itching for a rematch, I'd advise you head in a different direction." His fellow guardsmen began to walk back toward the city. "...You're all from Izzarra, right? I heard about you looking for support. I uh... I hope you find it somewhere. My older sister went out that way when I was a boy. Her letters about the occupation were horrible, back when she was sending them." He fell silent then, and turned to go.

[CrimsonEon]

Kaldach, with only minimal acknowledgement of the fact that they were just moved outside the city forcibly, exhaled firmly.
: "...Right."
Finally lifting the crimson sword to his back and strapping it on, the swordsman stood straight.
: "There's going to be a lot to explain. Better we save it 'til we can set up camp."

[Lucus Casius]

  "..."

Before he left earshot, Martyn called out to the guardsman.

  "Don't lose hope.  The border agents make it nigh impossible for news like that to leave Izzarra's borders.  When we free our home, look for those letters again."

And then the guards were away and gone, and Martyn shook his head, turning away.  It was something to know that at least some of the common folk supported their cause, even if alone there was little they could do.  Perhaps elsewhere, with more sympathetic leadership, they could be inspired to truly join the fight.

But for now...

Martyn raised his head, giving a nod to Kaldach.

  "There was a fairly secluded place nearby, as I recall.  We should be safe enough from that inquisitor's forces there.  At least long enough for you to explain what you know of Mordo's projects."

[Blade Master Model 42]

The group made their way further from the city, into a gentle wind blowing the ash back toward the volcano and the city beneath it. They retreated to a small, secluded outcropping of stone overhanging an abandoned camp. This place was known well enough to travelers, but was empty at the moment. Setting up took very little time at all. The day was still young, but the fighters had already struggled for their lives, and their next port of call was yet undecided. It was just as well that they leave further journeying for the following morning.

[Lucus Casius]

Martyn sat himself down with a sigh upon a stone, looking down at the small fire over which their next meal was currently boiling in an old pot.  Beside him, his four-fingered hand rested upon the crude map he'd drawn back when this trip began, hoping to find allies to liberate their land from their conquerers.  They'd been gone for a long time already, it seemed, and so far...  So far, it didn't seem like they'd accomplished much.  Economic sanctions, yes.  But sanctions would not see his homeland freed.  Even with the situation basically unchanged, they would need allies.  Weapons.  A plan.

From Kaldach's expression, things might not be going even that well.  He needed information, too.  And he doubted he'd like what he heard.


  "So.  These weapons, that you and the inquisitor carry.  What do you know?"

[CrimsonEon]

During the short time that the group set up camp, Kaldach swept the outlying area until he came across a large, flat rock. Hauling it back to what firepit that was made, he placed it nearby. Sitting down on it, he unfastened the various swords drawn across his back and placed them in front of him- with exception to the Devil Sword, which he planted firmly in front of him.
: "..."

Next, he unfastened the larger pieces of his leather armor. Not something he's done often, and when he did, only briefly when trying to rest for long periods of time. Underneath the shoulder pieces were a yellowed and worn set of bandages wrapped around his upper arms, not disturbed for years, perhaps even before Kaldach ever joined the rebellion.

Grasping a loose end by the lower part of his arm, he unraveled them slowly, bits of it unwilling to let go of the pale skin underneath. All until an unusual sight remained.
: "..."

His upper left arm, as it were, was covered in a mass of scar tissue from elbow to shoulder. Evidence of several massive- yet clean- gashes strewn about it. The surrounding flesh was graying, barely seeming like it was holding off rot, as if a couple good blows would sever the limb entirely. Kaldach, for his part, heaved a heavy sigh as he briefly glanced at the remnants of his sword arm, before glancing ahead.
: "Sharne. Martyn. I'm going to need both of your ears listening. I don't want to repeat myself."