<div style="text-align: justify">After Leila showed up and punched its partner, the Wolf didn’t even have the time to react before an explosion followed by loud crystal noises rooted him in the ground, spinning his waist and trying to free his lower half were fruitless, these rocks were holding him firmly in place. Recovering his thoughts and focusing on trying to protect his partner, that woman was still in reach, he prepared the dagger and then… darkness.<br/>
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The butt of the rifle connected with the left back side of the Wolf’s head, followed by the entire weight of the enchanter’s body that was prepared to impact, colliding, transferring all his inertia, breaking the crystal prison, and sending him unconscious to the ground two meters away. Elric grimaced, putting his rifle back in his back, grabbed his right shoulder, the point of impact, and rolled it to dissipate some of the pain.<br/>​</div><div style="margin-left: 40px">“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(41, 105, 176)">You okay? I almost shot you…</span>” - He nodded to Leila, the grimace turning into a smile as he let out a soft chuckle and walked towards the lump body he sent to the ground..​</div><div style="text-align: justify"><br/>
Slowly dragged the unconscious body back to the inn. With Cullen and Leila already having its prisoners under control, Elric just dropped the Wolf on the ground by the other two - <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(128, 128, 128)">he is not going anywhere</span></i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(128, 128, 128)">.</span><br/>
He winced as Beatrice bit his finger and ran.<br/>​</div><div style="margin-left: 40px">“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(41, 105, 176)">Auch! You ungrateful ferret!</span>” - He said with a more relaxed face.​</div><div style="text-align: justify"><br/>
Finally relaxing after this surprise battle, Elric took a look around and all his glee vanished as he, for the first time, noticed the dead bodies inside the inn. Too preoccupied with the basilisk and his enemies running with the map, he never truly paid attention to what was around him all this time. His face closed like a heavy metal gate, the shine in his eyes dissipated as he crouched down and searched the enemies. Gathering all his rations and weapons and pilling it up over a table inside the inn.<br/>
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The Sorian proceeded to gather and move the corpses, lining them up on a corner of the inn and covering them with whatever he could find. The inn smelled like dust, wood and alcoholic drinks, especially beer. Those bodies were still fresh, still early to taint the atmosphere with his decomposing vapors. Walking towards the bar where a good number of bottles were in pieces on the ground, Elric managed to find one that wasn't, he poured a stone mug full, loudly dragged a tumbled chair in front of the three prisoners, setting it a few steps from them, setting the rifle on its side and sat. The wood complained as he sat heavily and spread himself, occupying the chair in its entirety. Leaning back, he gazed with his cold stare to the kneeling figures. He raised the mug and poured down to the floor, what looked like half of the mead. Pouring and spilling drinks could have various significance. Some leaders of the past would spill their drinks in each other's glasses to assure neither were poisoned. In some places it was a gift to the gods. In Soria, it was common after a battle or when recalling a past date where lives were lost. The liquid poured on the ground was for the souls lost in battle, a last drink to whatever came after death. Elric drank the rest in two full gulps and then just stared. The soldier inside Elric wouldn't allow these prisoners to be killed, but they didn't know that, using his gaze and the silence to induce something. Let them think, let them imagine whatever scenario it was about to come, let them roll in their own fears and insecurities. They were agents, so the question was: how ready to die are they? After this defeat, they probably already were. At this point, unless they are the only ones in this scheme, even if we let them free, they will either disappear, go after us or die in the hands of their contractor.<br/>​</div><div style="margin-left: 40px">“<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(41, 105, 176)">Cullen…</span>” - Those were the only words from the enchanter, they had a serious but tired tone to them - “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(41, 105, 176)">... Just don't open the map in their sights.</span>”​</div><div style="text-align: justify">​</div><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--2"/><div style="text-align: justify"><br/>
From outside of the Inn looking in was Popcorn. She was on top of the fallen door, her ears down apprehensive with the strange mages and not only that, Elric wasn't himself. In the almost 6 years they were together, she never saw him like this. She saw him, sad, upset, annoyed, stressed, worried, sleepless and with a stomach ache, but never like this. Her eyes crossed his, after he got back to the inn, and she was happy that he was alive, even though he kinda smelled like Beatrice, but he was safe. She never felt this lack of energy from him, like she couldn't get to him. She would keep her distance and find something to do. She sniffed the air and suddenly remembered: Apples! Someone needs to grab the apples. She trotted her way to grab the apple sack, hoping when she would come back her human would be back to normal.​</div>