Whether the Blackguard Commander had heard the young woman or not seemed pointless only a few moments later. This was the Raven Company: An expeditionary force of men who traveled the mist for exorbitant sums, but were among a less than handful of organizations willing to do the work of pathfinding and maintaining outposts. A capable lot to be sure.<br/><br/>Just the catch of their insignia of a black raven dressed over a white and blue heraldry would possibly remind Liirah of something her mentor once mentioned about the group. In fact there were a few mentions of names important to his history, Kyburn and Ruthwald being chief amongst them. But with the chaos that surrounded the young woman she could be forgiven for forgetfulness. It hung in the air, that thick Mist, addling the lungs and the mind.<br/><br/>She was simply fortunate that a group had rallied to her aid, and soon several of the riders motioned to the large building. Food and water were being retrieved from one of the wagons. Nothing fancy mostly dry salted meat and flat bread. Just enough to sustain a group if hunting wasn’t ideal, the backbone of a Blackguard ration. No frills.<br/><br/>An older woman with skin like worn leather from a hard life approached Liirah with a mirthful expression. Adorn in dark gray robes and a habit with etched runes hanging from her neck it was clear she’d been one of Evangelists. The believers of the old faith they devoted their lives to the service of others, as they strived to enlightenment through submission. They a good lot who had taken up with the Blackguards to fulfill their duty by providing counseling to the men whilst providing herbal and alchemical care as needed to the wounded.<br/><br/>Here this woman stood offering a water skin and bundled ration wrapped neatly in wax paper. Gentle brown eyes caught Liirah’s expression at the boys alarmed shock.<b>“Aye, tis’ a sad fate assuredly. Some of us come to the service of the most high willingly, while for others it is thrust upon. Nevertheless the tithe for our penance shared.”</b>The Evangelist waxed poetically holding out the offering expectantly with a nod. But soon her gaze would look to Liirah’s battered insignia then to her openly wondering,<b>“Where is ye’ master dear?”</b>It was a good question, yet it did no good for the younger woman. At the very least she had not been forgotten and the Evangelist swooped closer examining her with interest. Eyeing an exposed wound the matronly façade faded into something more clinical as Liirah’s hands became filled with the ration.<br/><br/><b>“Sister Shae.”</b>She introduced herself late yet abrupt all while tending gently to the exposed lacerations stained in murk and clots. Unplugging the waterskin she’d attempt to wash the area to get a better view of how badly Liirah may have been hurt. To this effort she spent a few moments tending to this task.<br/><br/>Meanwhile within her eyesight the young man trudged forth in a line. Something about him was eye-catching, not in his features exactly… no, the boy appeared drab and mundane, if a little frail for a human male. Stack that feature to the malnourishment of most that lived these lands. Again there was just something about his eyes, that peculiar shade of amber that swept frantically and confused about the landscape.<br/><br/>What looked to be one of the company’s Bondsman would come to Wesley with a ring of keys in hand. It wasn’t verbally apparent what the man said as all Liirah would see was his back, but it was clear a conversation was taking place from the farm boy’s startled reaction. Whatever was being said the young man’s chest raised with tension and deflated with a submitting nod, and then Bondsman unlinked his shackles from the chain. While still restrained it seemed Wesley was being led with a few others away for the purpose of menial labor.<br/><br/>This became apparent when the young man and two others reached into the back of the wagon where they were handed tethered bundles of blankets. Pointed in the direction of the building they slowly marched with a few barbed remarks from another Bondsman to not drop the blankets. Wesley struggled against the mud with bare feet but managed slowly.<br/><br/><b>“Dread Father preserve my patience.”</b>Sister Shae scowled in deep accent as she swatted at the gnats that had begun to obscure her view. The wet and murk created a fetid environment rich for the wild carrion pests of the world. But her expression did not seem all too softened by her renewed vision as she pressed Liirah’s deepest wound tenderly, noting the inflammation among something else she was yet to say.