<div align="center">Ghin, Day 1</div><br/>Colonel of archery. And things had been going so well.<br/><br/>Ghin quietly apologized for Bako having spooked the mount away in the end - it was surely Bako's presence rather than her own that had the animal so skittish. She could not recall the last time she had scared any animal away without intending to do so, and she doubted these flying creatures were more frightened of strangers than the sandhares of Nautali's vast flatlands. It was her fault either way, of course. She was prepared to offer her help in tracking Ralos down if needed, without Bako there to frighten him away again, but Dasyra's introduction put that idea entirely out of mind.<br/><br/>"Oh. That's... you must be busy, then. Colonel is a high rank, isn't it? I wouldn't want to be in the way any more than I have already been." Ghin had retreated a step away from Dasrya reflexively, unconsciously placing herself closer to her guardian upon confirmation that their new acquaintance was military after all. Whether it was to put herself farther away from the soldier or to place herself more in Bako's way to keep him from reaching the woman, she couldn't say.<br/><br/>The latter certainly was possible; the great eagles did not understand speech as people did, but they understood signals, body language, far better. The barest outward signs of tension on Ghin at the revelation was enough to renew Bako's less than amiable interest in Dasyra. He may not have known exactly why the elf was more threatening at that moment than she had been the moment before, but he read the change in his partner all the same.<br/><br/>The girl turned her head, shook it ever so slightly.<em>{She is not our enemy.}<br/><br/>{Enemy will come.}</em><br/><br/>"We will deal with it if it comes to that," Ghin murmured. Her expression had sobered. When her focus returned to Dasyra she looked as tired as she felt, as if she'd walked to the hills rather than flown. "You seem a fine officer, Dasyra. I don't want to put you or your people in danger." Somehow she didn't seem to mean the threat of the eagle. "It would be better for me to stay away. We only need spend a day passing over the mountains to reach Holly forest. I will not be in danger, I assure you; please don't worry."<br/><br/><br/><div align="center">Loras, Day 1</div><br/>Loras finished the fruit in his hand while mulling this over, mixing the sweet with the sour as it were. Not that that particular imagery occurred to him. He had other things on his mind than metaphor. "Sounds to me like this dragon is something of a personal issue for you," he noted. "Why not take care of her yourself? You're king. You can do whatever, right? Got the people's backing and all that?" He tossed the pit of the fruit over his shoulder in the general direction of the Benevolence Tower and shrugged. "What's stopping you from telling the dragon to get out? Exile the beast and its progeny, or split them up, take their fire away. They gotta have friends in good places and all that, but not like they can overthrow you unless they got an army bigger than yours. So what's the catch; why d'you need a guy like me to do the dirty? Don't get me wrong, the endgame sounds good and I can trust maybe five or six of mine to work discreet-like, but it seems strange, you wanting swords to pay off against your own guys. Common folk like them more than you, is that it?"<br/><br/>He scratched the stubble along his right cheek with a gloved hand in final consideration. "Yeah, I can take care of your dragon problem and keep quiet about it. If you've got details on how you want things done we'll need some go-between we can both trust not to do any backstabbing along the way. Better than meeting direct like this again if you want to keep your name out of it. In case there's a change of plans. You know how it is with this tricky shit: something always goes off before it's over. Have to adapt."<br/><br/>To a mercenary, politics are very simple: whoever pays best, you support. No matter how simple or complex diplomacy and religion became for others, the sorts of people who actually cared about them, for a sellsword the bottom line was all that ever mattered. This was not the first time he'd been approached for some more subtle matters - not that it took much to be more subtle than his standard fare - but the first occasion it was a proper king making the approach. Priests, councilmen, ambitious heirs, that sort of thing he'd seen and done before; this was a different tier of employment, and no doubt of risk. Surely the reward a king could provide would balance out the risk of this kind of job, but that was assuming there was a reward in it. This King of Estaris was young and seemed the ambitious type himself. Loras was educated enough to keep track of the systematic changes taking place in Estaris of late, even if he couldn't necessarily work out the reasoning behind them. Any change was noteworthy as not being a case of no change, which was what most royals did: keep the family policies going. Would a king with such large endeavors in mind bother to pay off these forsworn jobbers of his when they succeeded at achieving his goals, or would he find himself betrayed and marked for execution when the man didn't need him anymore? Somehow that seemed the more likely outcome. Not that that was discouraging. Just meant he'd have to take certain precautions, make some preemptive arrangements to counteract the worst if and when it came.<br/><br/><div align="center">* * * * *<br/><br/>Lyra'nuviel, Day 3 - Mendall, Nor</div><br/>Her chest burned. Her feet screamed. Her eyes wouldn't stop leaking - not full-on crying, just that obnoxious sort of dribbling from running into the wind. Her arms and legs were practically going numb from the exertion of moving continually.<br/><br/>It didn't matter. She kept running.<br/><br/>Jacob was right in front of her, urging her on the whole way. She'd lost track of how long they'd been running: all night, it seemed like, stumbling around baskets and jars left in the narrow alleyways outside the main bazaar's wide open spaces. Jacob had trod on a cat at one point, crushed the poor thing's spine under his boot, nearly went face-first into a wall over it. It didn't matter. They'd kept running.<br/><br/>They weren't sure they were even being followed anymore. To be honest, the last time she'd even heard something that sounded like pursuit was over two hours earlier, back when they'd climbed onto a low-settled house and jumped into the blind alley behind it to cut northwest after having been going east away from the footsteps echoing up the stone pathway behind them. They were probably lost to their pursuers by then.<br/><br/>On the other hand, the last time they were sure they'd lost them, that was when Stephan died, shot through the eye with a bolt from some shadow.<br/><br/>They kept running.<br/><br/><em>"I can't get it <strong>off</strong>," she'd said, near panic.<br/><br/>"Well you'd best find a way. I don't think they're fucking about. Like to take your hand off if you can't."<br/><br/>She'd gaped at him, momentarily forgetting her struggle with the ring on her finger. "They wouldn't!"<br/><br/>Stephan's face was solid. "I would do, I were them."<br/><br/>"Shut up, Steph, you're not helping. Look, Lyra, it's probably nothing, right? No way it's one of them. Fucking things were never meant to be worn anyways, and besides, who'd just toss that in with some trash metal, yeah?" Jacob had the friendliest smile.<br/><br/>The elf was nodding, thinking similar thoughts more out of hope than logic, when Stephan ruined it by answering, "A smuggler. Hide trinkets with trinkets, even the good ones. Best way to get it out of the city."<br/><br/>"<strong>Still not helping.</strong>"<br/><br/>"Y'asked." Stephan craned his neck to peer over the edge of a stone windowsill, out at the crowd. It was only midday then, busy time in the market. "They're coming 'round a second pass. We have to go."<br/><br/>"Go where?"<br/><br/>"Somewhere not here."<br/><br/>Six hours later he'd checked another window just that way and caught a length of wood and iron for his trouble.</em><br/><br/>Jacob stopped to breathe when they reached the end of the alley, waited for her to catch up to him. He was shaking. Six feet tall and trim from years of street living - one can't survive lazy as a street thief and scavenger - the redheaded Jacob kept his green eyes back the way they'd come, panting for breath and waiting for the shadows to come to life. It was all Lyra could do to keep from dropping dead on the stones once she stopped moving; her limbs turned lead instantly. "Jacob. Have to stop."<br/><br/>He shook his head. "Nearly there now. Ten minutes' walk."<br/><br/>"Where?"<br/><br/>"River docks. Slip on a boat there, ship out quiet." He straightened up and stumbled his way to the alley's end wall, stooped and cupped his hands. "Up you go." Even with the help of a boost she barely managed to pull herself onto the walltop. Jacob piled a few broken crates from the alley together for a makeshift ladder and followed after, ungracefully landing on his hands and knees on the far side with a sharp curse. They limped from there; it was the best they could manage. Elf and human alike, they could feel that prickling sensation up their spines that said they were being watched, being hunted, but no arrow came from the night, no blade from the doorways they passed by. The darkness remained only uneventful darkness until they turned the final bend toward the river.<br/><br/>There they were, their targets floating quiet on the river. The way out. Lyra started forward, almost beyond the protective cover of the buildings when Jacob pushed her into the wall to stop her, a hand over her mouth. Turned her head to look, pointed.<br/><br/>A black cloak was waiting there, too. She could only barely see it crumpled up between two of the lantern-lit piers, but it was there. And if one was there, more would be nearby.<br/><br/>He led her back up the alley and around the corner, testing doors as they went until he found one that wasn't locked. Shut it behind them, blocked it with a chair, swept the building for occupants. Finding none, not caring who owned it or where they were, the pair climbed the ladder to the second level, pulled it up behind them, and promptly passed out on the thin matting that served for a bed. They could worry about how to keep breathing in the morning.