Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount

Shaydrin stared down at Maren for a silent moment. "Kings of Reaper's Skull. Soon to be Kings of the Witherlands, if their current lord gets his way. Though I fear their line could well end with his sickly, probably-impotent self."

When Mallsrek turned back to him, Shaydrin met his sibling's gaze for a moment, then through an eye the woods. "I suppose we should tell Father. I would have already if all this hadn't robbed my attention. He needs to know that we're looking at an intervention by at least *Some* Of the Barrmount's underlings." He reached down and took Maren's wrist in his hand, wrenching it from his waist. "Scatter the news throughout the camp. I want to have a few words with this little whelp."
Christina
Lord Mallsrek Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount

"You deal with that brother whilst I go handle the man's business, wouldn't want something to go wrong now would we." He turned round to the men handling the refugees and shouted at them so they could hear. "Take whatever refugees you've checked and bring them back to the camp. Leave the rest here, they won't be our worry for much longer. And at the double men."

Without another look at his brother he strode off to his destrier, strapping his axe to the saddle he climbed into the saddle with ease for a man of his size. Atop his war horse he was an unmistakable figure, built for one thing, war. He kicked his horse into a trot, quickly going back to his hearthtroop. "We ride hard back to camp lads, lets move now." With that he sped his horse up into a gallop and the group of fearsome warriors rode off back down the road they had arrived on an hour ago. After a few minutes their only presence was the large plume of dust billowing into the sky as they sped along the track with haste.
Stephen
Maren 
Outside Castle Barrmount

Maren furrowed her brow, not knowing what impotent meant, but King meant something. It was always something she imagined, a king. But she could never really get the details right. What a king really was. She thought about that as Mallsrek and Shaydrin spoke.

Getting suddenly wrenched away from Shaydrin's mild warmth, she squirmed a little, before complying and looking up at Shaydrin with mild discomfort. One wouldn't call it fear. But definite discomfort. She tried to relax, taking a deep breath. She would be a good girl, just like her father always told her she wasn't. If she did as she was told, this man wouldn't punish her, hopefully.

What a way to treat a sign of the Gods.