Balder could feel Vee's potion coursing through his body the entire way through the halls. For a moment, he couldn't feel the normal aches and pains that plagued his every movement. Feeling uncharacteristically lithe and nimble, the old man followed Latvanen's lead, powering through hall after room after hall with silent haste. Though the small group passed many times their number of enemy sailors, the thief brought them to their destination with no significant problems. Watching the young man lead them through hallways, periodically stopping to allow the group to pass undetected, Balder couldn't help but to be impressed with his steadfast determination, narrowing his focus to nothing but the goal ahead.

Once arrived at their destination, the first complication arose, and it was significant one indeed. “We have a problem,” the normally-confident thief whispered, an air of panic hanging under every word. “Imperial Arbiters. Two of them. I'm afraid our blades won't be much help here, but that hammer of yours should work out good.” As soon as he heard that they would be facing Arbiters, Balder cursed himself. Though his heavy, steel plançon à picot – perfect for a battle against chain mail with its steel head for bashing impact and its wide spikes, focusing the blunt trauma and virtually bypassing the armor. As it was, Balder had only brought a firearm and his cutlass with him. Luckily, his little protegé had, not only a weighty hammer, but also the ability to manipulate Alumen.

Watching Lasrach's sign language, Balder honestly had no idea what the damned horse was trying to say. At any rate, the experienced fighter knew that there weren't too many brilliant strategies that would help them in this fight. Dueling skilled fighters with close-quarters specialized weapons with armor only vulnerable to weapons that require larger spaces. The only chance of victory would be their fighting skill and a heavy slice of luck.

As they engaged the Arbiters, Balder could tell that Lasrach's manipulation was in progress. The planks all around them started to warp, and some of the nails all around them seemed to be vibrating. Knowing that he wouldn't wan't to be anywhere near the deor's targets when whatever he had planned struck, Balder shouted a command to his team, “Keep yer distance lads! Get clear for whatever Lasrach's cookin'!”

Throwing knives glinted in Cameron Brideson's hands as his brother, Christian, pulled out a wheel lock ferrum pistol. Still outside the hall, Jory leveled his freshly loaded crossbow. Taking his own advice, the master gunner cocked his flintlock ferrum rifle – definitely not ideal for small spaces, but hopefully to be useful for precise shooting if chaos broke out. The six man team squared off against the two Arbiters, and tension was thick in the air.

No, not tension. That was caith.