Corbin brushed the stallion that bore his cousin. The horse was still skittish, but it was to be expected. Most horses didn't like the sent of blood. Then there were the war horses like this one got antsy at the smell. War horses were quite vicious. The young man sighed and leaned against the horse. The stallion barely wavered as he shifted his balance. Corbin ached. His thoughts swirled mainly around Gregar and how he was faring. He had seen men die from lesser wound. It was only by God's grace that his cousin hadn't bleed to death on the journey. 

The rest of Corbin's thought were to the betrayal. Was the King apart of it? Or just their Sargent? They had expected the Ironhills to make some play, but to have men from the Whitelands help them? That was nigh unbelievable. Corbin groaned as he peeled himself off the horse, patting the stallion to sooth him.

"It's going to be alright." He told the horse, but was trying to convince himself. Even if Gregar lived their lives had just because so much more complicated. They couldn't rush back to their homes without finding out if the King had a hand in their betrayal. Likewise that they needed to find the traitor. The two of them alone would surely fail. They needed help. And they needed to trust whomever it was. Sadly the latter was something neither of them could take the time to afford. 

Corbin patted the stallion once last time before he left the stables. He swayed slightly as he walked, exhausted from the trials, but he couldn't rest until he was sure Gregar would be fine. He had expected to find his cousin in best resting and not wandering around. He told his cousin as much, but willing went with him to see the duke. He had to bite his tongue as he watched Gregar hobble. Determination was well and good until it got you killed. The young man waited patiently as Gregar spoke to the Duke about receiving aid.