Ashton surveyed the scene from his fortified position. The mercenaries were dead, none of the rebels had died. Thankfully, he had not served alongside these mercenaries for long... But he still wondered if his hands were stained. With the current conflict and war in the country, he knew that the side he was on... It couldn't be the good one, not if these were the kinds of people hired. He placed one hand on Amethysts reigns, looking about the survivors. Not seeing the archers that crept up, Ashton spurred Amethyst into the sky once again, his spear held in a neutral position as he slowly made his way toward the rebels.<br/><br/>Landing a safe distance away from them, the Wyvern rider dismounted his Wyvern, his feet planting on the ground. Blood was flowing from both of his wounds, and he breathed a bit heavily, clearly wounded. Holding his lance, he pointed it in the direction of the earth, and impaled it there. His hands were spread out to show a lack of hostile intent and no weapons. “I am Ashton Hildebrand, Wyvern Rider of Galatia, and I surrender.” There was pain in his voice, and not just physically it sounded. He waited to hear their response, or see who was the leader.<br/><br/>But now, this would end. Be it them accepting his surrender, or cutting him down – He looked at them with a steeled resolve. Unfortunately there was an issue with the other mercenaries, but he assumed that they would not be trouble. If they wanted to attack, they would have. And if they did, Ashton would have no choice but to take up arms against them as well.