[center][b]Feuertanz, Schwarzenburg City[/b][/center]

Where Lusser saw crooks and Thorvald saw fools, Feuertanz saw people - simple good people with families and hopes and dreams. Perhaps he's naive - he didn't spot a single one of Lusser's swindlers - but while he surely knows such things happen it's not the forward face of the city that presents itself. In some ways, he's removed from it by artifice - folks tend often to be less ready to shake down a man of the cloth, even one of such youth. But he waves here or there, calling out to this stallkeeper or that as they pass with none of the others' respective fear or cynicism or, indeed, awareness. 

But he saw, too, Alina's fear. This time, this moment, he would not interfere; he would let Lusser talk to her. After all, he did not like to be overbearing - better for now to keep moving so they could get out of the city. But as they move northward, as the life of the city fades to rolling hills, Feuertanz becomes quieter. The acolyte himself begins to hang back with the rest of the group, staying closer as the trees rise around them, as the forest grows around them. Unconsciously, the weasel's ears fall a little lower as time goes on, and slowly a warmth builds up around him. There is no fire, no smoke - but as he ceases to venture so far from the group, and the cold of the morning ebbs, the warmth becomes noticeable. Still, he offers that same personable smile. "...I'm afraid this is as far north as I've been. There's a small village... north of here, I have family, I've never been - a fork in the road in maybe a couple hours' further travel, and if you go east there, my own village is three days by foot. [i]Vater[/i] had a cart though..."