Freya's answer was nothing surprising. She did not seem to enjoy speaking much, and she had usually kept her business short. Harol glanced at the rogue from his now lower viewpoint, and noticed that her scar was much more pronounced when viewed from there. It was kind of funny she had that, now that Harol thought about it. After all, he had a rather distinctive mark himself. This had occured to him before, and Freya had mentioned it as well, but it was only now that he noticed that these features, his tattoo and her scar were both marks they'd carry to their graves. And marks that at least for now did their best to actually lead their carriers to said grave.

Harol turned his eyes back towards the ceiling and let out a brief chuckle. He was unsure whether he really should have done that, given how grim his realization had been, but for now he was safe enough to find it funny. It would eventually be seen how long exactly he would spend at house Clasz. The king [b]would[/b] eventually find him, that was of no question. It was more of a matter of [b]when[/b] and [b]would he be able[/b] to fend off any waves of assassins that made it to the grounds.

Harol shook his head slightly and drove his thoughts away from the grim side for now. He had just made it here. He should give himself at least a day before starting to worry about things like this, with the addition of learning about 'Eldritchian battery' there to already give him more than enough headache. Harol pushed himself up from the bed, and immediately noticed something. Standing up and looking at the door, he muttered: "I am thirsty."