Zander stopped his decent into the hull and sighed at Nymira. What did she think he would do? Light fire to the ship itself and leave it to burn into the river bed? That actually wasn't a bad idea, part of him agreed. Lack of a torch and flint and steel held his idea in check though. His mind also processed Ethan's harsh remark towards him. Ethan didn't know him, and vice versa, so he did not hold it against the boy. He was younger than Zander, and part of him scoffed raging against keeping his mouth shut for once.

When Ethan realized how his words affected Cecil, he decided then and there to let bygones be bygones. Cecil had done what Zander himself had tried to do, get Ethan to realize his harsh tone was doing more damage than anything else. It felt wrong, to praise the young Magi. To him, it felt so terribly wrong even in his mind. Magi had caused his family to shun him and cast him out. Not, however, before branding him and causing his wandering to start. That was a summer ago, but felt like a lifetime.

He was lost in memories, some bitter sweet, some making him long for the temple's overall warmth. The guards had called for them to come down, to follow their lead and to not cause trouble. He tensed, guards meant that soon the Church would be called. Zander scorned himself, for not leaving a day earlier, to have avoided all of this trouble. Geoffrey though, had pleaded for him to stay one night as they had been together. Begged him to heal his mother with his magics. That had been the cause of all of this, and Zander somewhat wanted to box the Innkeeper's son upside the head.

Shaking his head, it felt light and airy, somehow he had followed the others off the platform. When Nymira had pulled Amuné and stated she was a princess of such and such tribe he sighed. There went his idea to lie his way out of this, bringing his own family name into it and using some excuse like this was the Church's experiment.

He paused. Would that actually work!? Bernadette fought for them, stating they were children caught up in this, and then the word Magi had been passed around. The mayor had been spelled asleep, and fingers were being pointed at them. He could see the underlying tone, if none of them spoke up on his behalf, he would be off towards the Church. His death. His mother would be sure to gloat as well.

To lie. To tell the truth. To bring up his own family name into this and use it. He had the family crest branded on his left arm, his father's parting gift against his mother's wishes. Sighing and crouching down, he plucked a blade of grass and placed it to his lips. Thistle Whistle, or so Geoffrey had showed him how. Blowing against it, a softer tone escaped it and he let the tone hold. He ignored the looks the guards shot him, and just hummed with his Thistle Whistle. 

When Lazlo arrived to spread his good cheer about finding his items unharmed and now unstolen, Zander gave a pained smile. This would take more than trying to cheer them up and he doubted the Mayor would help them anymore since Zander had knocked the man out in his need to hide his last name. Sighing finally, he dropped the reed in his fingers and walked away from his small group and towards the guards.

"I am they one who placed the sleep seal upon your Mayor," Zander stated bringing them to a silent impasse. "These people had nothing to do with that. The job to retrieve the items was done, also by this group. If you must shackle someone [u]look no further[/u]." Zander didn't have his staff, it was still in the bushes. The staff he had borrowed from the bandit's still upon the deck. He was tired and wanted to rest and pump more of his power into the wound upon his chest.

He didn't look at the group he had gone to this ship wreck with. For that was what would become of it, and he kept his eyes no the Mayor's Secretary. He didn't plead, he didn't bargin, he simple handed himself over. He was older than all of them, he would handle this for them and if they crossed paths again, or didn't he was okay with that somehow.