"Not to stop your holy fervor," Benedict says, just as the ruffling of wings alert him to the upcoming violence, "But freeing these slaves will not make their life any easier.  We cannot, as a team, compromise our goal for the sake of a few unfortunate souls."  He reaches up, stroking the thick beard, as he observes the merchandise with a thoughtful eye.  Nearly all of them held their heads downcast, avoiding eye contact, but one fair maiden with wings as beautiful as his companion stared at them with some unnamed intensity.  Curiosity?  Hope?  He could not say for sure, and before he could consider it longer, the flash of movement to his left demanded attention.<br/><br/>"Oh."  As Orlando charges by him, the alchemist peels off his felt gloves and tucks them away into the pockets of his trouser.  Though it might be expected of him, he knew that his very competent teammates would handle the overmatched demon shortly, so he does not so much as remove hands from his trousers.  Instead, brushing back his overcoat to arch his elbows back, he starts walking toward and then through the crowd of slaves.  He grimaced as they cowered back from him, knowing the bitter truth that left a sour taste in his mouth:  They could not hope to save this group from their terrible fate, their mission would be compromised and in fact, these heroics alone risked unwanted attention.  Their was /one/ he could save though, or so he thought, one strong in heart who did not shy away in terror as he strode towards them.<br/><br/>Though, if asked, Benedict would admit that Verena's pale breasts and soft skin did not go unnoticed, he would insist that it was her eyes and bearing that drew his attention so firmly.  He knew her to be unbroken, someone they could use, who could perhaps make them stronger in saving.  This one was a fighter.  He stops in front of her, hands still shoved deep into his pockets, and tries a short smile.  "Your--" Glaaaagh~  The terrible sound of his feet stomping one of the wriggling worms into the dust interrupts him, but he smoothly transitions.  "Your name, sweetheart?  Can you use a sword?  If so, we have need of you."  He draws a sword from his side, pressing it into her hand.  "Fight."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>