*after the catastrophes*

~

Seven chimes into the morning, and the white plume of smoke had been continuously rising from the Prancing Pony's chimney, giving signal to everyone that Madam Carmeli was already up and about, whipping up her dishes. Markoj and several other errand boys were already flitting in and out of the pub door despite the smudged sign that said 'CLOSED'.

Inside, Aele and several barmaids were already setting up tables after the floors had been scrubbed clean.

A tall, very good-looking man with short, unruly chocolate brown hair was standing by the counter, quietly writing and checking some ledgers as his staff moved around him.

The Pony had survived through the recent riot, thanks mostly to Penril's loyal staff and Madam Carmeli's rolling pin. Markoj had delighted their boss with tales of how Madam Carmeli disposed of the 'outsiders' with a smart whack at the head, while the errand boys went and threw the prone bodies out the door.

Although everyone had been surprised with Penril's look. The absence of the tattoo made everyone...uneasy. Several patrons have already mistaken him for a new errand boy. Penril didn't seem to mind and would just shake his head when asked what happened.

Or give stock replies, like: "Ah, I was growing tired of it anyway."

"Sir Pen, right, all the preparations are done, right." Markoj's voice came.

Penril looked up, blinking. "Oh. Right. Open up, then."

Aele, who was nearest the door, smiled and shifted the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.

Another day was starting.

Raid refused to let her homelessness keep her down--she remained fixedly determined to keep both herself and Teivel alive. Though the horse had decided he rather liked eating hair. She'd had to bodily remove him from several other street-dwellers.

It had been slim pickings since the riot; few merchants wanted to be in a city where the vast majority of shops were either rebuilding or left torn to the ground. Raid had resorted to stealing also from the middle class; she didn't like it, but hey. She needed money for steady meals, and a thief was a thief.

Raid whispered promises of an actual stable as soon as it was available to Teivel. He whinnied softly, butting her chest and sniffing around for any fruit that she could be hiding. She quirked a grin, reaching in a pocket and handing the Wild a recently stolen apple.

"Just stay here," she told him, patting his rump. Teivel was harnessed to a beam on the Pony's side. "I need to eat people food, you silly horse," Raid scolded when his lips peeled back to display his overlarge front teeth. Turning away, she paused and leaned back in.

"Feel free to bite anyone who comes too close." Teivel rolled a Look at her; foolish human, she was, to think she had to give him permission. Raid grinned again and pulled back.

She entered the Pony, patting to make sure the purse was still in a side pocket and carefully extracting enough money for a good-sized meal. Her stomach rumbled at the thought, and she sat down somewhere in the middle of the room. Raid crossed her legs and leaned back, making herself comfortable as she waited for an employee to come.

The bell by the door rang, and Penril looked up from his ledgers to see a young girl enter the pub. His staff and barmaids greeted her accordingly, and she sat herself at one of the newly set tables by the middle of the place. Penril nodded and left the counter to take her order. It was a tradition that the first customer for every day had to be entertained by him.

He approached her, and gave her his most polite smile. He took a quick note of her features, though. Quite small and agile - she had the looks of it. And her hands - no doubt very light and very fast.

In other words, a thief.

But she had money, so she was welcome here.

"Good morning, my lady. What will you be wanting for breakfast today?" he asked.

A man approached her, giving an extremely polite smile. Raid returned it with a cheeky smile of her own, not missing the quick analyzing glance. He seemed to be well off; if not for the clear sharpness of his eyes, she would have considered him fair game. But, alas, he was too aware--she'd find some other fool.

"Good morning, my lady. What will you be wanting for breakfast today?" he asked.

Raid snorted discreetly, hiding it with a hand over the lower half of her face in a thinking position she's seen her former tutor use many times. My lady? Well, well. Either he was aiming for a tip or just had impeccable manners.

...Or maybe Raid was just paranoid. As it was, she was hungry.

"Milk, a loaf of bread and cheese, please," the thief smiled disarmingly. She'd known certain people who would throw out a rogue on sight--Raid would rather play it safe than be rude. The meal, albeit simple, was sufficient and would conserve what little money she had.

"Milk, a loaf of bread and cheese, please," the thief smiled disarmingly.

Penril gave a nod. "Right then."

Markoj was just running by, when Penril grabbed the boy by the collar, making him wheeze.

"Yes, Sir Pen, right?"

"Milk, cheese and a loaf of bread for the lady. Move along." Penril said.

Markoj gave a salute as his collar was released. "Yessir, right, on my way!" Penril watched him make a dash for kitchen - he ducked through the bar counter and went inside the steaming room. Penril straightened up. No other new customers yet.

"My lady doesn't want anything else to add to her meal?" he asked.

Prince was GONE. AGAIN. GONE. LIKE THE WIND. GOD, WILL THESE DEMENTED HIDE AND SEEK GAMES NEVER STOP!? WHAT ABOUT HIS HEALTH!? HE WAS GETTING TIRED OF PATROLLING THE HALL OUTSIDE THE ROYAL APARTMENTS 24/7.

DAMMIT. LAST STOP, AND THEN HE'LL MOBILIZE THE ARMY.

Coming into the Prancing Pony, Hadrian looked around. Let'see girl. PENRIL. JACKPOT. GAME OVER, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME. BUSTEED. COME WITH ME TO THE DARKSIDE PALACE.

"My Lord." Hadrian began. "The Etiquette Master is curious of your whereabouts... you've missed your lesson for the third time this week."

Moving forward, he came to a stop beside the girl. "Being your guardian, as such I felt it was my DUTY to bring you back... whole." He said, finally taking notice of the girl. ".... consorting, at this time? Good for you milord."

He looked pointedly at Penril. GO, NOW.

"My lady doesn't want anything else to add to her meal?" he asked.

"I'm good," Raid said lazily. She returned her attention to her dirty boots, wiggling them and watching with vague horror as the tip of one toe poked through. She'd have to replace them. Again.

"My Lord." Raid turned her attention the door and froze. "The Etiquette Master is curious of your whereabouts... you've missed your lesson for the third time this week."

HADRIAN!

Raid suddenly couldn't quite figure out how to speak. Or breathe, for that matter. Actually, she was having difficulty doing anything at all. Her hand developed a nervous twitch.

Moving forward, Hadrian came to a stop beside the frozen girl. "Being your guardian, as such I felt it was my DUTY to bring you back... whole." He said, finally taking notice of Raid. ".... consorting, at this time? Good for you milord."

She finally managed to blurt something out. "OhmygodLordHadrian!" Raid covered her mouth in a mixture of awe and mortification.

_________________________________________
Outside, Teivel was getting hungry.

He was being mobbed by a particularly ornery sparrow. The stupid looking little bird had flitted and fluttered around his rump annoyingly. It actually pecked him, earning a loud whinny and a powerful surge from the harness that broke whatever remnants of the leather hadn't been eaten away already.

Teivel headed through the door to the Pony, subconsciously retreating to his Human. The door easily gave way to his superior weight.

There was a large man next to his Human, as well as another smaller one. Teivel screeched to a halt, hooves scraping and sliding frantically and probably smashing more than a few fingers in his wake. He managed to slow, but his head still went full speed ahead and gave the big man a forceful headbutt from behind.
_________________________________

Raid paled.

The girl managed to blurt something out from her shaking mouth. "OhmygodLordHadrian!" and then covered her mouth.

What? What's with the OMG? OMG WAS HE A GOD!? YES! WORSHIP ME, MORTAL! YES! MENTAL VICTORY DANCE! DANCE LIKE YOU'VE NEVER DANCED BEFORE! WORSHIP MEEEEEE~

BANG

"OHSNAP!"

OH MY GOD, I SEE THE CEILING! FOR SHAME, HADRIAN EVARISTUS! LORD HIGH COMMANDER AND YOU GOT BUTTED IN THE ARSE BY A WILD. WENT OVER THE COUNTER TOO, HA HA. SHAME ON YOU, YOU BASTARD! EVEN GODS CAN BE BUTTED IN THE BEHIND WITH A HORSE.

And the horse...?

DIE! DIE! CAPITAL PUNISHMENT! SUFFER!

...

Can you HANG a horse?

Only a groan. God.

"I'm good," the girl replied. Penril nodded to her.

"All right, give me a moment and ---"

"My Lord."

The former Ablest could only manage a groan as he turned around and faced his very talkative and annoying shadow. "What now, Hadrian? I've work to do.."

"The Etiquette Master is curious of your whereabouts... you've missed your lesson for the third time this week."

Etiquette lessons...goodness. Penril had NO need of those...

Hadrian stepped up. "Being your guardian, as such I felt it was my DUTY to bring you back... whole." He said, finally taking notice of the girl. ".... consorting, at this time? Good for you milord."

"I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Penril spluttered. "I am not..."

"OhmygodLordHadrian!"

Penril swung his gaze to the girl, who looked starstruck. He raised an eyebrow. Fangirl...?

And before he could react properly, some of the boys and maids were screaming. Penril spun around just in time to see a horse - WHAT UNDER THE GODS' NAME WAS A HORSE DOING IN HIS INN!?

"OHSNAP!"

Hadrian flew across the room and smashed by the counter. Penril's hand spasmed. Was anything broken? Was...

Unnerved, he turned to the horse, looked it straight in the eye.

"You." He said, pointing out of the inn. "GET OUT."

The animal snorted and obeyed. He turned to the girl.

"Excuse me," and hurried over to Hadrian. Aele was bending anxiously over him already. "Are you all right?!"

First thing he knew, his chest was facing the ceiling, back bending rather grumpily to the space behind the bar and with Penril and some woman's face staring at him. Hadrian blinked back. GOD WHO KNEW HORSES HURT SO MUCH? Hadrian Evaristus blinked. Oh, now he was in a pickle. ARMOR, DAMMIT, ARMOR. You know, no one could really get up after they get knocked down if they had armor....

Hadrian squirmed. Nope. "I'll be fine." Hadrian said. "Just... another... challenge... in the life... of a High Commander." With each pause he tried to move and get out of this pickle. God. No good.

"Go ahead, Sire." Hadrian said. "Get back to the Palace, I'll... get... out... of... this... MESS... in a minute..." Hadrian grunted. He was slightly thankful he only wore LIGHT armor today, but apparently even pauldrons, a breastplate and some gauntlets and greaves were HEAVY. One... last... try.

Something broke. Maybe the wood? Hadrian looked behind him. Oh, there it is. A notch somewhere down there in the wood, but yay, he was out.

"My lord?"

((OOC: Can I say this is quite possibly the funniest thing I've ever read? Not just Hadrian, but all three of you? XD I think you guys need awards, or something.))

Thaniel was tired. The recent catastrophe had left him quite out of energy, and all he wanted now was a place to sit and quite possibly, some alcohol. Even though he didn't drink. Even though if he had one drink, he would probably have several more, and this would result in him getting horribly drunk. Which would lead to him doing funny dances on a table top. Not a very pleasant image. And really, he'd stayed away from alcohol for a good ten years now, so it really shouldn't be that hard to stay away from it now.

Hah. Yeah. Right.

He'd heard that the Prancing Pony was a good place to go, one of the better pubs in the city. And apparently, the Lord High Commander went there quite frequently, though no one was really sure why. In any case, Thaniel decided to head there, if not for the alcohol, then at least for some lunch.

However, upon his arrival, Thaniel was greeted by - not a human as he would have expected - but a horse, who gave him an evil glare as it trotted out the front door. Thaniel froze, swiveled his head to stare at the retreating horse, then spun back to the front. This was the front door, all right. Steeling himself, he entered the building...

...and was greeted by chaos. 99% of the inn's population seemed to have clustered themselves in one corner, fearfully staring at the middle of the room. The counter had been smashed and was now a complete wreck. Three people stood in front of the counter, two he didn't recognize, and the other one was...

"Lord High Commander?!"

Raid glanced to Hadrian and Teivel and back again, mind frantically working as how to get out of the mess the Wild had gotten her in. Hadrian had flown several meters away, and was now struggling to get up.

Teivel snorted in the big man's direction, pawing at the ground. Foolish human, to get in his way! He neighed as disdainfully as a horse could neigh.

The small man turned to him. He was unusually twitchy; Teivel looked at his hair and went for it, but paused, ears flicking, as he pointed at the horse. "You," he said, pointing out of the inn. "GET OUT."

The Wild snorted, but obeyed, tromping gracelessly over anyone who left their toes in his way out. Silly humans.
_________________________________________

Raid threaded her hands in agitation, having uncrossed her legs and began to pace. "Damnit," she muttered. She briefly considered making a break for it. The man had gone over to Hadrian...

___________________________________
Teivel fixed another approaching Human with his evil eye. His hair looked enough like straw that the Wild turned and followed the Human inside, surprisingly stealthy for being so large. The other Humans were cowering somewhere in a corner.

The Wild stretched his head forward, lipping at the man's hair and whickering. He bit down, attempting to munch the straw-lookalike.

_____________________________________

Raid scowled at Teivel in frustration as soon as she saw that he'd arrived back in. "You stupid horse!" She dove at him, hanging from his huge neck. She was such a lightweight that Teivel barely lowered his head.

"I'll be fine." Hadrian said. "Just... another... challenge... in the life... of a High Commander."

Penril gave himself a good facepalming. Oh, where were the days wherein he could make his ledgers peacefully, with no horses entering the place and....

"Go ahead, Sire." Hadrian went on. "Get back to the Palace, I'll... get... out... of... this... MESS... in a minute...My lord?"

"Lord High Commander?!"

Oh great. Another talkative shadow and...

The horse was back inside!

ARGH! I'VE HAD ENOUGH!

Penril looked the horse in the eye again.

"I said," he repeated. "GET. OUT."

"You stupid horse!"

The girl dove at the horse. Good grief....

...more facepalming on his part.

"Lord High Commander?!"

First thought. Who you? Hadrian blinked. Okay. WHO YOU, MAN!? Recruit? Yeah, he could deduce as much. BUT STILL. WHO THE HECK ARE YOU? 'Nother fan recruit? Yeah. Fan? Maaaybe.

Horse. GOD. HORSE WAS BACK, AND HORSE WAS... eating the guy's head. Hadrian stifled a laugh. YES! CONSUME! Hee.

Watching the girl launch herself at the horse, Hadrian blinked. What a weirdo. Really. Leaping at horses was a nice way to impress and all, but Hadrian personally thought that would do nothing for Penril. Nope. Back to searching possible brides for the Crown Prince.

".... Yo." Hadrian said simply at the recruit who came in.

Yo.

That was a reply that was to some degree, extremely disappointing. Yo? All he got was a "yo"?! That was...like, the lowest of the low, barely an acknowledgement. It was almost as if he was...unimportant, or something like that. Which Thaniel had to grudgingly admit that he was. But still, couldn't a man get a little more than that from his freaking HIGH COMMANDER?? The man who'd he'd practically worshipped for the last 20 years??

Oh wait, he HAD worshipped him. So much for hero worship. Didn't get a person anywhere.

And, and, AND what made it even worse was that there was a horse.

Eating.
His.
Hair.

It was the same blasted horse from before, the one he'd thought had left the place. Nope, apparently he'd been wrong about that, just like he'd been wrong about so many things today. Not only was he unimportant, he was so unimportant, he could be used for food. Yeah, you got that right.

"Dammit," he muttered, trying to pry the horse's jaw loose from what remained of his hair. "Get - off - of - my - HAIR!" Each word was puntuated by a push at the horse's head, and Thaniel was rewarded on the last push by a sudden pain and then - freedom. His hair might have been gone, but hey, he was free.

He looked around, and gave a slightly hysterical chuckle. His nerves had been slighly on edge ever since that catastrophe, and it really didn't take much to push him off the edge.

"Can I get a drink??"

"Can I get a drink??"

...

HELL NO. NO. Hadrian blinked. Lunch time and the guy was DRINKING. NO. NOT ALLOWED ON MY WATCH, YOU BOOB. Hadrian stiffened. "It's a little too early to be drinking, isn't it?" He asked the man. Let'see... rank? Probably... P2LT. Only a few of those. Silver hair... oh righhhhht. Kriest.

We've been through this, right?" Hadrian asked him. Not really, but still you know.. the will of the High Commander is transferred from officer to officer, or so the saying goes.... Er... yeah. He'd known about it. FINE HE WAS BORED, AND NEEDED SOMETHING TO DO. PEERING INTO PEOPLE'S FILES WAS ONE OF THEM.. "Look, Kriest, we all know you have a drinking problem..." did he get the name right? bah, he was the High Commander. WORSHIP YOUR LORD AND MASTER. Lawl.

"Two cups." he said. "Two. After that, no more for you, alright, Kriest?"

Pwetty please? :3

Drinking problem?

Drinking...PROBLEM??!?

Just because he'd gotten drunk once in the entirety of his (rather short) life did not mean he had a DRINKING PROBLEM!!!!! Good gods, he hadn't even had a drink in years. And now the moment he asked for one, he was scolded by a man who couldn't even talk properly?? (Seriously. Yo?)

Life was so unfair.

Thaniel wanted to cry. He really did. Finally, he'd gotten the horse off his head, the city had calmed down (somewhat), and the High Commander was back, things were starting to look up, and he was denied his only solace by the man he'd risked his sorry hide to bring back to Olencia. There was definitely something wrong with this picture.

Granted, he hadn't exactly brought the man from whever he'd been hiding. The man had come back out of his own free will. But he'd gone out into the dangerous world and looked for him. Close enough.

Then his ears perked up. Two cups. Ooooooh, alcohol!!! The joy, the happiness. Thaniel could have hugged the man.

Except, not in that armor. Even if it was light armor.

"Alright sir. Two cups. I'll be good." He wondered if the Lord High Commander wanted any too, but decided against it. If the man wanted something, he could go get his own.

"Err...you do have beer somewhere back there, don't you? Because it looks like the High Commander might have smashed some of it."

Raid hung uselessly from Teivel's neck as he chewed on the man's hair thoughtfully. She tried swinging, but that only made the Wild snort.

"Come on, stupid," she hissed at him. "If you don't let go right now, no apples for a week!" He didn't listen, still munching.

The man, thankfully, didn't stand to have his head eaten by a large herbivore. He pushed and pushed, with Raid watching, slightly frantic and slightly mocking. Teivel wouldn't let go through force, she knew by experience--Raid hanging from his neck was proof enough.

He managed to get loose, but a large chunk of hair stayed in the horse's mouth. She stared disgustedly as Teivel swallowed, looking smug.

"Can I get a drink??"

Raid had begun to thump her fist hard against the Wild's neck, but paused to stare at the hysterical-looking man. She resumed the angry thumping, the horse whinnying and rolling back a derisive eye to look at her.

"That wasn't funny," Raid informed him. Teivel snorted and went back to eyeing more possible prospects for his delayed meal.

"Two cups." Hadrian! She winced. What a way to finally meet a hero. "Two. After that, no more for you, alright, Kriest?" So that was the man's name. Raid eyed him, switching from thumping to headbutting.

"Get out while you still can," she hissed into the horse's ear. One ear flicked back, but nothing more.

"Alright sir. Two cups. I'll be good." She ignored him again; so far, Raid was getting nowhere with moving the Wild. "Err...you do have beer somewhere back there, don't you? Because it looks like the High Commander might have smashed some of it."

"Damnit," she burst out. "If you don't move right now, Teivel, I don't care what happens, I am not feeding you!" Raid slammed her palm down on his rump, wondering why she hadn't thought of it before.

He reared, neighing loudly. She evaded his flying hooves and darted to his safer side, pulling his mane and manipulating him into facing the doorway. Raid slapped his rump again, and he charged back out the door.

She turned to the three men. "Sorry," she said bitterly, and took her seat again. She still wanted a meal.

“My, having fun, aren’t we all?” Locke said, the healthy, somewhat smug grin splitting his lips apart revealing his amusement for all to see. “I suppose,” the silver haired man continued while he pointed with a slender finger at the ceiling, “that this place has been named ‘The Prancing Pony’ for a reason.” The pointing, almost accusing hand twisted in order to show the slowly retreating outside horse. The sarcasm in his voice would awake the dead as Sevejar slowly, almost cautiously walked in the inn. His gaze dropped at the occupants of the room, and his amusement dropped to indifference. A high-ranking army dog, judging by the steel enhanced armor, an innkeeper who just did not seem like one, a person with similar hair to his own, if you did not count the saliva and the missing bits, and a pale girl. At least, those were the persons that caught his attention at first; he was aware of the various waiters and such seconds afterwards.

The assassin wondered for the umpteenth time if maybe, just maybe, he was wrong in his choosing a place to stay at. Too wrong to back down, though, so Sevejar removed his traveling cloak, revealing his attire and weapons for them to see. “Just saying,” he warned half-heartedly, “I’d really appreciate it if the damned horse stayed outside from now on.” He smirked at the responding scrutiny of his words, but otherwise shrugged it off. As if he really cared of what they thought of him. Sevejar was there to do a job, not create friendships.

Passing a gloved through his smooth hair, the assassin moved towards a table away from the door and sat down. “And I’d like my order taken.” Sighing, he wondered which one of all the people besides the old man were persons of importance, but then forced his mind to think of different matters, such as who this Blyth was, or whether he should attract company to his bed or not. The journey was long and lonely, after all, and one, even if that one was Sevejar Locke, needed to converse from time to time. Plus, he needed to make acquaintances in the Capital as soon as possible.

Sevejar rubbed his eye in order to banish the sudden tiredness and decided to just observe for now. And he would even bet his right arm that the best company while doing that was going to be a bottle of the inn’s finest. He finally relaxed. It was good when he had a plan.

For him, at least. To others, Sevejar having a plan was as good as bargaining with the devils.

“My, having fun, aren’t we all?” Hadrian blinked and looked at him. “I suppose,” the silver haired man continued while he pointed with a slender finger at the ceiling, “that this place has been named ‘The Prancing Pony’ for a reason.”

.... Penril is going to slaughter you.

THEN the man removed his cloak, and Hadrian saw all the weapons and whatnot. He stiffened. Only the Guard were allowed to bear weapons in Olencia. Otherwise, a permit was in order.... Hadrian vaulted over the counter, he'd regret the pain LATER, and raised an eyebrow.

THEN the guy finished his speech and moved off to a table. Hadrian twitched. No explanation. None. Nada. Zilch. No 'I have a permit to parade these weapons right in front of your DAMN NOSE'. Nope, none of THAT either.

WELL, TIME TO UPHOLD THE PEACE.

"I'd like to see your permit, if you'd please." Hadrian spoke up. "Bearing arms in Olencia is a right reserved for the Guard and those we have given clearance."

The middle-aged, armor-clad warrior walked towards Sevejar with a certain joyful stride, cocky and godlike, his nostrils practically flaring with displeasure, as if smelling something worse than meat left out in the sun. The assassin in question merely crossed his arms and legs and waited for a question of this, apparently, higher authority. For a brief second, Sevejar thought of bribing the fool right away, but thought against it; this was no time for spending money on fools, whether court ones or not.

The man bragged about how only the guards were allowed to hold weapons in Olencia, and how one should get clearance to do so. Sevejar raised a silver eyebrow on that one, and decided to jest around; after all, who did not want to listen to a tragic story?

"Is that so?" He asked as soon as the official ended his speech. "I hadn't heard of such a thing." Indeed, Sevejar had not. He ought to kill the men that did not inform him of such a rule, but they were miles and miles away, a dream fantasy that would come true - soon. "Well, if that's the case, man, I'd like to get a damn permit; with the bandits and starvation-driven mongrels -as well as hair-eating horses- you seem to have in this place, I am not discarding my swords for no reason at all."

The assassin got up, smirking with satisfaction. "Hell, let's do this right now. You seem like a high and mighty... Someone, so you could probably sign up a permit for me. 'Course, I'd pay for it, don't fool yourself for even a second there."

Sevejar offered his hand to the man, disregarding his rule of rudeness for just this once; it would do him no good to mess around with an official.

Of course, he would love to smack that nose right away, and he would do so at once, should the official discard his offer as fast as he had done with his bad manners. "What say you?" Sevejar asked.

Well as much as possible he didn't like to resort to magic here. Gods, please grant him the patience he needed. Now, when a fourth person joined in, Penril sighed, knowing that there was something worse in store.

Yes.

Something worse than a horse who eats people's hairs.

“My, having fun, aren’t we all? I suppose, that this place has been named ‘The Prancing Pony’ for a reason.”

...I choose not to comment. Right.

"I'd like to see your permit, if you'd please." Hadrian spoke up. "Bearing arms in Olencia is a right reserved for the Guard and those we have given clearance."

Penril sensed the tension hike up. He broke in smoothly,

"Well, I don't like sending people out if I can help it," He said, directing an unblinking gaze toward the man. That gaze made some old Slayers stand down on its own. "And I am afraid I haven't heard your exact order yet." He said plainly.

Sevejar sighed overdramatically and turned his gaze to look at the apparent innkeeper. Funny, he thought. I thought most employers in these parts of the country were fat on their own success. This one seems almost...

"Unique." The assassin whispered -almost mouthed- to no one at particular, his head cocking to look at the man. "My order, then?" He frowned for an instant, torn between making decisions brought to him by years of theft. For the innkeeper to be so healthy, it meant that either he was an adventurer still, or poor.

The frown dissappeared after seconds passed, and Sevejar allowed himself to relax. "No need to be afraid, good sir." The only ornament in his voice seemingly being a healthy dose of confidence, which, to Sevejar, translated as sarcasm, he continued. "My order will be this; a room for one, a bath, whatever you have that passes for good food, and your finest wine."

Sevejar shrugged to the law enforcer and sat down on his table. "Please, you all were in the middle of something before I interrupted. Do go on. When you are done, sir," he pointed at Hadrian, "you and I'll talk bussiness. What say you?"

"Is that so?"

That very tone made Hadrian bristle. Don’t you dare make him angry. The Pony would like, explode and… "I hadn't heard of such a thing."

Boo hoo, he sneered mentally. Should’ve gotten more information now, eh? This man might be an assassin, a bounty hunter or whatnot, but Hadrian was Hadrian. HIS city, HIS rules. Got that?

"Well, if that's the case, man, I'd like to get a damn permit; with the bandits and starvation-driven mongrels -as well as hair-eating horses- you seem to have in this place, I am not discarding my swords for no reason at all."

Hadrian struggled not to get his face in the usual angry sneer he’d don when he was so PISSED right now. So pissed he actually wanted to choke the life out of that smirking little… How would you FEEL IF I STUCK A ROCK UP YOUR-

"Hell, let's do this right now. You seem like a high and mighty... Someone, so you could probably sign up a permit for me. 'Course, I'd pay for it, don't fool yourself for even a second there."

Hadrian’s eye twitched, the table he put his hand on creaked slightly.

The… how could he say this? Bandit, common drunkard… no, this one was a professional, and Hadrian had dedicated his life to hunting people like that man. SCUM would suffice. The mudkip offered his hand, Hadrian took it, shook, and let go as if it was a robotic action.

"What say you?" Sevejar asked.

Penril broke in, Hadrian turned to look back at the Prince, before the mudkip brought his attention again by pointing at him. POINTING at him. WITH A FINGER.

"You and I'll talk business. What say you?"

I will break every bone in your body, and I will laugh.

“Business is done in the Keep.” Hadrian replied. “As it is, I am off-duty, but even if I am, it is my job to uphold the law.” He looked back at Penril, the gaze said it all.

CAN I PLEASE, PLEASE DO SOME CAPITAL PUNISHMENT AROUND HERE?

The law enforcer was colder than the mythical lands up in the north; with every word Sevejar spoke, a small vein seemed to puff and huff in frustration. Whatever the man thought of the assassin and his suggestion was pretty much obvious - either keep on talking and get beaten, or play along.

And Sevejar hated playing.

"Look, officer; I've done something wrong. It's not like my blades have been bathed in blood now, alright? If the guard had done a better job, then I wouldn't have to carry swords around like a common criminal." Sevejar's inner self cackled maniacally. If only they knew... "So, all in all, with the people in this room as my witnesses, I say that I will not leave this building until tomorrow morning, when you can escort me to the keep or where ever. There, with the celestial forces' offerings, we'll settle things."

Sevejar grinned, but it had nothing to do with the calm and amused one he sported earlier; instead, this one was the grin of a man caught having stabbed his sexual partner for no reason other than because he was bored; in other words, it was evil, twisted, and bore a dementia seen in special sorts of people.

Finally, his facial expression turned to a calm one a few seconds before it turned into something aggravating. "Now, I have a matter of paying to discuss with the Innkeeper. Mind leaving me in my bussiness... Sir?"

Now you're a person I wouldn't mind killing for free... thought the assassin, but his face showed nothing similar. It was that of satisfaction, of a trader's that had just closed a really good deal.