Outside of Charten, just over the rise beyond the outer fortification, two cloaked figures walked slowly, but methodically, toward the town. They were both wrapped in brown cloaks, making them unable to be identified from a distance. Even with the cloaks, the two men had long since discarded the emblems they once wore to identify themselves with. It wouldn't due for them to be outed as the Caldegian fugitives they were. Even here in Belinni, where Vinsenia's presence had yet to take hold, they could not be sure that the people here wouldn't just put them in shackles and hand them over to Vinsenia as some kind of bargaining chip, or even to line their pockets with reward money. In these times of war and chaos, they could trust no one but each other.

"So this is Charten?" asked the younger of the two to his older companion, who just nodded in confirmation.

"It is," he said, voice sounding tired, clearly the war had a way of taking its toll on those who participated, "and it doesn't appear to have fallen yet. That's a good sign. Means we're not too late." when he spoke, he did so succinctly, as if any time spent in conversation was time that was being wasted. Choosing not to speak again, the man pulled a near-tattered book from his pack and began thumbing through it. An average person would have assumed this to be some kind of spell tome. They would be wrong. This was nothing of the sort, and was arguably far more useful and valuable than any mere tome. It was the man's playbook, a journal he'd spent countless hours writing in and reading from, it was filled with drawn pictures of battlefield formations and various weapon statistics for siege machines. Years worth of tactical genius were condensed into this book, and for that reason alone, it was virtually unreadable by anyone but the man himself. For you see, he was clever enough to know that he could never allow enemy eyes to gaze into his writings, and so everything in this book was written in code, using seemingly random jumbles of words and letters so that the book would appear to be absolute gibberish to anyone who did not know the code for deciphering it, and as of now this man was the only person who knew the aforementioned code.

The other traveler sighed when the older man started thumbing through his book. He knew by now that it meant the man, his father, did not wish to converse any longer and was content to remain in thought and concentration for the remainder of their journey. As such, the two shared no words as they neared the town, the younger of the two almost sighing with relief as he could now hear the sounds of people out and about. Traveling with his father was never that lively, the man barely spoke and when he did it was always purely for business. In fact, the young man was certain that they hadn't even spoke at all about what had happened to them in Caldegia, and it was obvious at this point that his father preferred it that way. From what he remembered, the young man's father had always had trouble speaking from his heart, instead preferring to speak from his mind and notes, it was a wonder he won the youth's mother's heart all those years ago.

Glancing around, the young traveler could see a few things happening, mostly mercenaries training. That's when he realized something. Mercenaries? Shouldn't there have been Belinni Regulars stationed here? Or were they simply spread too thinly and thus resorted to hiring local mercenaries to aid in the defenses of this and other towns? Well, his father didn't give him much time to think, he felt a hand squeezing his shoulder and heard his father's voice speaking briefly and, as usual, succinctly.

"Tavern's over there. Come on, we're wasting enough time as it is." the man said in a hushed tone. Strange that he mentioned them wasting time despite having only [i]just[/i] arrived. Then again, given the man's behavior and mannerisms as of late it wasn't that much of a surprise to the younger traveler.