Ostus was glad they had decided to travel with a caravan. It was enough to keep him distracted from thinking about Kiara. There was always someone to talk to, someone was always playing music, and at the end of the day when everyone was settled for the night, there'd be drinking and stories and laughter around the campfire. He wasn't the sort to sulk about his problems for long, so this social aspect was welcomed relief.

In the span of two days, the caravan had been attacked by bandits five times. Ostus had never seen so many; the war was definitely taking its toll on Astora. Though Ostus had given everyone the impression that he was a blacksmith, he was among the first to defend the small party during attacks. After all, despite his differences with the princess, it was still his job to protect her. Furthermore, the caravan was full of good, hardworking people, some with children -- he would not stand idly by and do nothing.

After the first attack was successfully thwarted, the caravan readily accepted Ostus and Kiara as part of the fold. He was grateful for this due to the added security a loyal group would provide. By the fifth attack, however, he couldn't help but worry about the journey to come. Soon there would be no caravan. Soon it would be just Ostus and Kiara. If bandits had discovered his mountain trail, how well could he protect her from onslaught after onslaught of ruffians? He kept telling himself that the mountain path was well hidden, that he could keep Kiara safe, that there'd be nothing to worry about. The princess already hated him; he did not want her to think him weak as well.

At night, Ostus didn't drink as much as he wanted to. Though the dancing was fun and a few women there made him wish he had not portrayed himself as married, he couldn't keep in the spirit of merriment. Even the uplifting notes of flutes and lutes couldn't lift his spirits. Ostus's guilt was like a festering wound; if he did not deal with it soon, it would only get worse. Before meeting her, he had expected to show Kiara a little fun on her last days as an Astoran princess. He planned to teach her how to drink, show her how to dance in the commoner fashion, drill her a bit on self defense though he knew now that she already had that covered... How could he protect her when they couldn't even talk to each other? Yet every time he cast his gaze on her, every time he opened his mouth to say the words, his mind would draw a blank or he'd lose his nerve. Would she even believe his apology anyway?

At least his desire to protect her was still strong, though he chalked it up to simple duty. He approached the princess from behind, returning from taking a piss, seeing some drunken slob all over her and her body language showing all the signs of a woman not interested.

He clasped a hand very heavily on the man's shoulder and squeezed as he leaned forward. "Who's not here?" he said, smiling at the man, though there was a darkness to his expression. "Seems to me like my wife desires a bit of space, don't you agree?" The insistent glare through his smile was unmistakable.