Elandris turned and eyed the Knight's horse pawing the hay in its stable as if discontented with its surroundings. There was something unusual about the horse, something that a small pinprick of his mind had taken note of, but refused to make public until its suspicions could be confirmed. Elandris blinked twice and turned back to Karrlandren. "I always travel light, but I harbor expectations of ensuing violence that a suit of mail may assist in limiting."<br/>He paused. "In other words, the choice is yours."<br/>Elandris retrieved his hat from the hay wagon, squinted upwards at the sun briefly, and frowned. Nearly eleven o'clock. If they made good time, by nightfall they would be making camp on the banks of the River Lorne, a muddy snake of water that twisted its way down from the desolate Peaks and disappeared into the Southern Forests.<br/>"I shall meet you," Elandris informed Karrlandren as he strode from the yard of the tavern, "by the Constabulary on the south side of town."<br/>That said, the Warden stalked off to purchase various items of travel, before making his own way to the ill-named, would-be police outpost.