In the early morning, a shut of a door was what awoke Emil from his slumber. One of his companions had left the room shared by a few members of their party. Emil scarcely remembered the rest of the night. He stood there for some time before retiring to bed, thoroughly exhausted from the events of the previous night. Realizing that he might be one of the last to wake up, he quickly pushed himself out of bed, and hurried to ready himself for the days events.

He swapped his clothes from yesterday with a pair of similar clothes from his ruck, and pulled his mail and plate armor over. He grabbed his sword and slung it and his ruck over his shoulder, and proceeded down the stairs, the light jingle of his mail and plates rubbing together sounding like bells as he plodded down the wooden steps. 

Downstairs, he found some of the others- including Sir Ionathan speaking to their new... companion-would be assassin-etc, apparently another hero of legend. Which Emil found incredulous, heroes of the same tale fighting amongst one another. Thankfully, today seemed to be civil at the very least. Emil himself didn't feel quite right entering a conversation between old friends, and instead sat off to the side.