Freya shrugged. "It was the least thing I could do." She answered. It wasn't like she had anything better to do anyway, and as long as it would help Harol she would be happy, which it apparently did, according to what he said. Though Freya soon started thinking again. Why did she actually care so much that he was alright, and not just physically spoken? She never cared about how other people felt, that was just the way she was. She never really cared what getting pickpocket would do to people, that they would get angered or desperate because of it, wondering how they could afford something to eat next day. She just simply couldn't be bothered thinking of such things, and it was one of the things that made being a rogue easy to her. And still, Freya once again found herself realising that to her, Harol wasn't like most people. He was different to her, and she just couldn't understand why that was. Maybe she should give several things some more thought as well. But for then, Freya simply pushed it away again, telling herself to worry about it later.

She looked around in the room for a moment, searching for something to do. She had already cleaned her daggers last day, so that was no option. Neither was training, as long as her arm would need to heal. She didn't exactly feel like getting out of the room and making new friends neither, nor was reading an option to her. She could just leave. Not to leave the house of Clasz, but just find a lonely place, like the roof or just an empty room, and just stay there for a while. Just being away from everything and everyone for a moment. It wouldn't be the first time she did so. In fact, she did so a lot, when she needed time to think, felt angered or sad, or just simply wanted to be alone. But strangely enough, she didn't want to be alone. For once, she preferred being with someone over being alone.

Unintentionally, Freya's thoughts went back to Harol again. He must be having a hard time, she figured. Not only was his family murdered by the king simply because they stood up for themselves, but he was also being wanted by the king himself. As if that wasn't enough already, he also just found out something Freya supposed would be quite shocking, and there was no one around who could understand what he was going through. Sure, Freya tried to help him, but even then, she didn't know what it was like to go through the things he was going through. She never had to deal with the problem of her entire family being butchered and finding out about birthrites that had been performed on her.

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 would eventually find him, that was of no question. It was more of a matter of when and would he be able 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."

"In that case, I suppose there is somewhere in this place where you can get yourself something to drink." Freya answered somewhat absent minded. She heard and understood what he said, but her mind was too occupied with other things to actually care. The same things that had kept her thinking several times already during the day, thoughts she pushed away over and over again, only for them to pop back up into her mind again sooner or later. She didn't even see why it all mattered that much to her. It shouldn't matter to her at all, she shouldn't care about things like that at all but instead she should be thinking about what to do next. Which way to go to when she left. She should be thinking of simple, typical things every rogue thought of. Still, such things seemed to be the last thoughts that were on her mind. She sighed softly and grabbed her veil, putting it back on before pulling her hood over head again as well.

"If you need me for any reason, you can find me outside, on the rooftop." She informed Harol before she left the room, not caring if it sounded odd. She had no idea where the stairs were located and where the nearest window was, but she didn't care. She just had to be alone, away from everyone for a moment and to be able to just think about things. Get things straight, clear up her mind. She eventually found the stairs, and kept walking them until they stopped and she had reached the highest floor. She opened the first window she could find and made her way outside when nobody was looking, to avoid causing the suspicion that she was a thief. Which in fact she was, but she didn't steal anything from the house. For this one time, she was completely innocent.

Freya climbed her way up onto the roof after she had closed the window again. Her wounded arm was making it quite a painful and unpleasant little climb, even though she did her best to ignore the pain. She sat down on the roof, letting out a soft sigh as she stared at the sky. In not even two days time, she had made a deal to protect a total stranger, going as far as murdering people to protect him. She trusted him enough to sleep in the same room together and to take off her hood and veil in front of him. She cared about him, and not just because it was part of the deal. She was acting loyal towards him, had even felt sad when it seemed like they wouldn't see each other anymore. And what exactly was he to her? Not much more than a stranger, she supposed. She had no idea why it all was like that or what she should do with it. Maybe it was just that she didn't have to hide herself from him. Maybe it was because they made a deal that she trusted him. Maybe it was because she considered him to be a friend. Maybe urges because he was special to her, and hoped that he liked her, despite how she usually never cared about people and how they thought of her. She had no clue, she was completely puzzled by what was going on. "Or maybe I am just losing my mind." The rogue said, thinking out loud.

Harol simply nodded at Freya's answer about as absent mindedly. The exchange of words had not consisted of anything truly meaningful, much unlike what Freya did say next. Harol did not process her works thorougly before she had already left the room, so his answer happened to be an alarmingly calm and collected "Sure, I'll seek you out if needed". Only once he had left the room behind her and finished closing the doors, he realized what she had really said and done. On the roof? Really? Well, if it was what she'd do, Harol really wasn't going to argue about it. She was simply enjoying her just reward from their deal.

Harol waited to see if a servant would happen to walk by, but after a moment of literally nothing of the sort, he grew bored and decided to seek one out. He had been at the house before, but it had always been rather restricted, so he was not aware where these people had their kitchen, or any other sort of facility with something to drink. Thus, the ever so iconic clinking, tingling, jingling and jangling of his ring decorated staff reverbrated in the hallway as the warlock moved out.

In a few moments he indeed did come accross a servant, who promised to bring Harol something to drink. The promise was welcome, but now that he had been walking for a moment the fact that he had been on the road for quite some time was evident in the tired feeling within his muscles. Before the servant had even made it as far as round the next corner, Harol shouted "I'll be in my room!" and moved back to where he had came from. No matter how much he now desired to be able to process all the information he had learned during the day, his brain refused to do so, instead grinding on a standstill of nothing. Maybe having such relief from finally getting to safety and finding out about the shocking family tradition was just too much for a day. Maybe if he could just sleep past this all...

And apparently his brain was being extremely slow today, for Harol suddenly noticed he had been wondering this nothingness in front of the door to his room for some undefined amount of time. Quickly reaching for the keys, Harol entered the room before anyone could see him spacing out in the hallway, and left the door open for the servant to bring the drink. Maybe he should just sleep after that...

Sighing, the rogue stared at a random point in the sky, trying to find a solution to this. Thinking like this was no good for her, it wasn't healthy. She was a rogue, she couldn't let herself be distracted by thoughts about some man and why she was acting so different towards him in comparison to pretty much anyone else. She needed to get rid of these thoughts, find a way to solve the questions that were on her mind so that they would just stop bothering her, for once and for all. Once those thoughts were gone, she could focus on serious, important things again, just like she should be doing in the first place. Wondering about something unimportant like this wasn't something she should bother herself with.

Maybe she would just have to run away. Just turn away from the house, continue traveling and not look back, not letting Harol, or anyone else for that matter, know that she was leaving or where she was heading to. Just go on with her life already, get back on the road and try to find some place where she could start up her new life. But for now, she didn't want to leave, not just yet. She finally got a place where she could relax, she didn't want to throw that away, not right after getting here. She could stay a little longer, but she would still have to solve this issue.

Maybe she should kiss him. The thought just appeared in her head, out of the blue, and shocked Freya at first. She knew him only two days, she couldn't kiss him! Although the more she thought about it, the more it sounded like it could just possibly be a good solution. If she felt attracted to him, than that would explain her strange behaviour, and it was easy to find out with a kiss. If she felt nothing, it had to be something else, and if she did, she was attracted to him. Certainly, the warlock could either respond to that in a good, or a bad way. If it was a bad reaction she'd get, she could still leave, and eventually forget all about him. Getting up, she decided to give her idea a try.

After she climbed back into the house and walked down the stairs, it took her a while to find the room again, but she eventually got there. "Please do not get too upset by my following action." Was all she said to him before she planted a kiss onto his lips, having taken off her veil already on her way to the room.

Harol was still waiting for his drink to arrive when Freya walked into the room. Apparently she had had enough of sitting on something as ridicoulous as the rooftop, which didn't surprise Harol whatsoever. He wouldn't have stayed in a place like that too long either. The risk of falling did account to that reluctance, and he saw that Freya might not consider that as much as he did. His thoughts of this sort were however coming to an abrupt end in a few moments...

Upset about what? Harol managed to think before Freya's lips had made their move. His first reaction beyond all else, was utter surprise which caused his right hand to suddenly release its grasp upon his staff, sending it crashing down to the floor. Harol didn't care, however. He was still trying to make sense of the situation? What was... Well, that much was clear. But why? Why? This didn't seem to bring up any results though, so soon enough he simply stopped trying, and decided to do more than just stand there: He responded in kind, softly pressing his lips back against hers. This tingling sensation all around his body... It was definately something new to him, as was actually kissing someone. However, the response seemed to come naturally. Finally one thing that seemed to have some clarity in it. Well, how it happened was another thing in the growing list of "what now?" Harol had been collecting all day, but in this moment, nothing of it mattered.

But all moments eventually come to an end, as did their kiss. Harol pulled back slowly, and realized he had at some point shut his eyes as they opened during this move. "Well," he started with his head curiously tilted to the side, "you can rest assured I am surprised more than anything else... Upset is something last on my mind right now. Just..." Harol flailed his arms a little by his sides, and his eyes met the ones of a servant by the door. "Oh."

He marched there and took the jug filled with water and the mug set next to it on a platter nodded in thanks, and asked the servant to close the door behind them. "Okay, if they saw that... Well, does it even matter... Not that it should", Harol resorted to muttering under his breath and poured himself a mug of water, and drank quick. He wanted to return to the subject at hand.

Like Freya had hoped, the kiss did make her feel something, a tingling sensation and the feeling of butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Well, now she had her explanation as to why she had thought and felt about Harol the way she did. Admittedly, she had never really expected herself to feel such feeling for someone a second time, but strangely enough, she didn't even mind it.

More surprising, however, was that Harol actually returned her kiss, answering it soft and kind, with a certain kind of gentleness of which she hadn't known that the warlock had posessed it. Granted, she had considered this a good idea to figure things out, and had thought that if she indeed felt at the very least attracted to the warlock, he could possibly feel the same. Still, that option had seemed the least likely one to her, although she wasn't even exactly sure why it sounded so unlikely to her. She had just assumed that he would be interested in different types of woman, which didn't steal and murder. Other magic users, perhaps, or at least someone with some more sense of honour than she had.

"My apologies if I startled you, I just had some thoughts I needed to deal with recently and... I hoped this would give me some clarity." She said after he had pulled her away. The red colour her face had gotten was rare, but clearly visible, even though she wished it wasn't. It only got even worse, though, when she noticed the servant. The rogue was usually not easy to emberass, but this was just enough to make her blush. She listened to Hatol telling her he was not upset, but surprised instead. She could understand, but she thought that if she had told him what she was going to do before actually doing it, his reaction might not have been as genuine as it was now.

"I hope you found your clarity, for I've had a ton of things happen to me today that just had none of that. This seems clear enough for now, for once. We both seem to have a certain kind of liking to each other. Rather surprising given how short our 'relationship' has been, but at least it seems to be both-sided." She is kinda pretty when she blushes like that, Harol thought during his pause. Was his attraction to her entirely physical? He knew very little of her, and she was extremely distrusting. Was he grateful for her showing this kind of affection towards him, given how rare that must be from something like her? Yet he owed his life to her too, no doubt, and to some degree she owed hers to him. Had either of them done any worse back at the bridge, neither would probably be standing now.

Well, even if his feelings had him confused once more about something, by now it was hardly anything new, and simply joined the boiling pot of "What now?", and pressed Harol's mind more towards resorting to sleep. He would love to eat before that though. And yet another question popped up, this time one easier to answer: If Freya was ready to kiss him, could he actually touch her with something other than his lips? Of course, not anything extreme, but something simple like holding her hand. He wanted to try, and walked closer from the little table, reaching slowly for her hand with his left, unsure.

However that would end up, he still wanted to talk. He wanted to understand. And, above all, he wanted to know how she had actually gotten attracted to him after all the arguing they had had just last night. Perhaps she was not sure either? Harol certainly was a bunch of unsureness himself, given this romantic turn things had taken. As odd as it sounds for a noble, he only had very faint clues on how this whole romancing thing worked...

"Yes, it appears to be that way." Was the only thing Freya said in response to him. It had been rather obvious that this all wasn't one sided. If it had been, he never would've kissed her back, and they would be having a completely different kind of conversation now. Likely about what was wrong with her, doing something crazy like kissing him so suddenly like she had done, which would've led to what had to be one of the most emberassing explanations the rogue ever had to give anyone during her life do far. Luckily enough, none of that was taking place, although Freya suspected that the warlock still had some questions, regardless of the fact that her feelings weren't unanswered. So despite of the current situation, Freya supposed she would at least have to explain several things to him. She wouldn't get to escape that so easily.

She noticed Harol's hand reaching for hers, not pulling it away. She saw no reason as to why she wouldn't let the warlock touch her hand, especially not given the situation. Okay, maybe he had gotten a little scared by the little accident with the drink in the tavern last night, but that had been an entirely different case. That drunken idiot had slapped her butt, assuming she would be perfectly good with that, despite the lack of interest she had in the man. She decided that the man could use it to be scared a little. Harol, however, was a completely different case. She had kissed him, showed a kind of attraction towards him. Why would she deny him to touch her, right after they had kissed? That made no sense.

So rather than pulling her hand away from his, she moved her hand towards it instead, taking a gentle hold of his hand, assuming that was what he had intended to do. She did notice she was still wearing her gloves, although they had been in the house for a little while by now. It wasn't because of distrust or whatsoever, though, but she had simply forgotten to take them off before. After all, what use would it have to hide her hands, of all things?

Feeling Freya's gloved hand take hold of his, Harol felt slight relief, even if in the end it was only natural for her to accept this kind of touch after the kiss. Lots of questions were bubbling in Harol's mind, but none of them seemed fit to ask as the first question. As talkative a person Harol usually was, now he found himself unable express himself, and that was somewhat of a shock to the Warlock who never before had been left truly speechless. He squeezed Freya's hand just a little and simply looked straight into her eyes. It was quite the combination: The gentle and confused look of Harol's with the tattoo of a one eyed golem covering the other half of his face. Just staring into the light brown eyes of Freya with the green ones of his, Harol calmed down enough to form a sensible question within his mind:

"Do you think this thing between us might work out? I mean, it is not like it was something about us, as it is the fact we are both on the wrong side of the law, and you... You have actual experience of a life there. I, on the other hand, am highly inexperienced when it comes to life like that. We... really cannot be equals in that sense, can we? We are safe for now, but we most likely cannot stay here until the end of our lives," Harol did not like making things difficult, but this had to be made certain. If Freya would not mind the possibility of needing to, figuratively speaking, drag Harol around as dead weight, and a fairly visible one at that, this all could work out.

Now having already spoken, Harol realized that this question might have come early, and if they had just met, it most definately would have. But they had been on the road for a couple of days together already, and thus Freya knew what it was like traveling with him. This still led Harol pondering if it had been the right question to ask, but he decided to push those thoughts away. No use adding another article to the "What now?" After all, they would stay at house Clasz for a while still, wouldn't they? ...wouldn't they? Harol realized he didn't know how long Freya actually planned on staying! That was another question to be asked. He reached for Freya's other hand with his right, this time taking hold of it himself, and asked: "By the way... How long WILL we stay?"

And then Harol noticed he had asked the question in plural, to account for both of them. Apparently he was surely enough going to move with Freya. A choice he had made in the moment without really thinking. Yet again something un-Harol-like. Maybe it was his growing hunger and his troubled mind. As he waited for an answer, he wondered if Freya would mind sharing another kiss with him. They felt nice.

Freya thought about Harol's question for a moment. It was true, when it came to being a criminal Harol had little experience, while she had plenty of it. Surely enough she would have to teach and tell him things, he would need help with this all, especially in the beginning. Later on not anymore, she supposed, but she had no idea how long it would take him to get used to all of this. "Honestly, I think that should be no problem. You most likely need to learn things, but I can help you with that. I did not mind telling you before, so I suppose it should not be a big problem." She answered. She really hoped he thought the same way about it and would be willing to give it a try, not minding the fact that he would have to accept her help.

Then he took her other hand into his as well, and asked how long 'we' were staying. Not, you, me, I or whatever, we. The two of them, as if they had already made up their minds about contiuing their way together. We. She liked the sound of that, more than she had even expected herself to. It wasn't just like he only made a choice to come along, if he would do so. It would also mean that she had somebody around her, willing to go with her and stick with her. After years, she wouldn't be alone anymore, and that thought was wonderful, only even more so because it was Harol who would be coming with her.

"Honestly? I don't know. I was either planning to leave when I got bored of this place, or if you did not feel some kind of attraction towards me as well. Obviously, the second is not going to happen. I at least wanted to stay a little longer, enjoy the fact I am actually safe somewhere for once. That is as far as I got." Freya answered, looking at Harol. She had no idea about his plans yet, not at all. "And what about you?" She asked.

"If you are willing to teach me in the ways of an outlaw, I see nothing stopping us traveling together once the time comes", Harol answered and again briefly squeezed Freya's hands. "As of when that time comes, I was thinking of spending a few weeks here if the situation permits, especially after all this new stuff I've got to think about. Besides, here it is safe, food and drink are plenty, one has a comfy room and baths are something one may enjoy on a regular basis. Speaking of which, I think I'll have one today", Harol was again derailing his train of thought rather efficiently, as was typical of him.

The thought of another kiss still lingered within his mind, but he was still somewhat hesitant to make a move. He knew how to respond to one, but how to initiate was a whole another thing. The first one had however come to him naturally, so would the second one too? He still hesitated for a moment, but decided to just try it. He pulled Freya just a bit closer and brought his lips toward hers, once more softly pressing them against hers, and just barely opening his mouth for a moment to caress Freya's lower lip.

In the meantime, Cyrus and lord Mortimer were having a conversation. "Or so the servant told me, Mortimer sir", Cyrus finished his sentence and awaited a response from the older man. "There should be nothing worrysome about this, Cyrus. Why would you need to bring it to my attention?" "She is an outlaw sir..." "An outlaw without of whom the only confirmed survivor of house Arkdal could very well be dead. Do I need to remind you of the long lasting friendship between our family and theirs? You might see it as you will, but I see it only as a positive thing. It won't hurt Harol to have something HAPPY happen to him for once. Now, when will the dinner be ready?" Mortimer firmly asserted his ground, and Cyrus was left with but a weak: "Just around ten more minutes, sir."

Freya could only once again enjoy the feelings of Harol's lips pressed against hers, brushing against her lower lip a moment. There was nothing about all of these things that were happening that was anything short of amazing. She answered his kiss without even a moment of hesitation, definitely not thinking of refusing one of his kisses. They felt too good to say no. But eventually, the kiss came to an end, and Freya pulled herself away just a little from Harol, although she was smiling. She wasn't sure that even if she would be wanting to, she could stop smiling. And even if she could, why would she want to stop smiling, at a beautiful moment like this?

She wasn't sure what else they should do, things they would have to talk about. After such a happening, some bit of talking seemed like a good thing to do, even though she felt like they had already answered what seemed like the most imortant question, namely if they would stay travelling together, or would simply part ways again, letting this everything be nothing more than a kiss, and move on with their lives, as if nothing ever happened.

Freya had to admit, she felt relieved by the answer they had chosen. She really didn't want to say goodbye and part ways with Harol anymore. Not now that they had shards a kiss and knew they felt the same way about one another. If he had just rejected her without returning the feelings, that sounded like something easier. Still not pleasant, but something she'd get over with easily, she supposed. But seperating ways with him, while knowing he felt the same and just not doing anything with it? For some reason, that sounded much worse.

Harol smiled back at Freya, them both beaming with happiness, a feeling most peculiar to two people who had had their lives threatened just this morning, and in the preceding day to boot. Now within the walls of house Clasz however, all this seemed so very distant, and the cause of happiness was right before them. It made sense to be happy. And that was exactly what Harol and Freya were. Two happy people, staring into each others eyes.

However, their doing nothing was interrupted by a knock on the door. Harol released Freya's hands, crouched to pick up his staff and headed for the door. Behind the door was no other than Cyrus with the manservant seen accompanying lord Mortimer most of the time. "Our esteemed guests, the dinner will be served shortly. I suggest you follow me to the dining hall", Cyrus bellowed. "And if there is anything you would like to request to have shortly after, do bring it to my attention post haste", the servant added.

"Well, I would love a bath today, the earlier the better", Harol said to the direction of the servant, and then turned to Cyrus "I have nothing more to ask now." "Then it is up to your friend here to time our departure to the dining hall", Cyrus muttered. Apparently the tone of his voice did not please the servant who shook his head, but quickly returned to his professional self: "So, miss, any special arrangements for you?"

Freya didn't like the fact that someone had felt the need to interrupt their moment of simply doing nothing but staring into the eyes of the other, but did not show it. Apperently it was dinner time, and she supposed that soon after dinner, they had more than enough time left again that they could spend in any way they wanted. Or at least, once Harol was done taking a bath.

When the servant turned to her to ask if there was anything she wanted, Freya shook her head. "I have no requests at the moment." She simply answered. She was convinced that there were more than enough things that she could ask for, Shr could probably request far more luxury than she was used to having. But for the moment, Freya was perfectly good with things the way they were. She grew up with little and was used to having little to nothing at all, so the rogue wasn't hard to please.

And though she wouldn't exactly be able to say what it was, there was certainly something about Cyrus that made her dislike him. Perhaps that was somewhat unfair, considering the fact that she hardly knew him at all, but she couldn't help it. She simply didn't have a good feeling about this man.

"Very well then, I'll make sure you have your room ready once you return from the table. If you'd like, we may even move your belongings for you. Although that will have to wait for now, we shouldn't delay", the servant responded to Freya, bowed quickly and made off. "Follow me", Cyrus simply remarked and started walking in a more relaxed pace. Harol did as suggested, although at an even slower pace to let Freya catch up to him.

Even now as they were making their way to the dining room, Harol noticed they were truly avoiding the main hall of the house, as they had when they had arrived earlier today. Why were they avoiding the room? He had gone to the dining hall before through there, and as far as he remembered it was the most direct route. He would need to ask lord Mortimer. Maybe not during dinner, but at some point later, just in case it was not something they would want to tell publicly, for they had not explained themselves yet. However, apparently there was an alternative way in that did not seem inferior to the one he remembered. Maybe they had multiple routes for just some odd reason? Whatever the case, the table was all set. The only thing that was missing was the food itself, but that was nothing odd. It would stay warmer in the kitchens anyway.

"Harol and Freya are here, lord Mortimer", Cyrus exclaimed and continued towards his seat in the table. It was a surprisingly small one, only big enough for six (and even then there were only four chairs), compared to the size of the hall, the lightly purple coloured walls of which were adorned with different paintings. Harol had always admired the one that was always directly behind Mortimer's back. It depicted, or at least Harol had been told it did, a powerful Oracle from ages beyond counting who had foreseen the rise of several magical houses under their protectors, and had been extremely accurate in small details of them, like Ishul'Shog's eye surrounded by a flaring mass. However, the painting had either taken many artistic liberties or the Oracle had been something very much inhuman, something Harol considered highly unlikely, although he had nothing to base these thoughts on.

As lord Mortimer and Cyrus sat on the other side of the table, Harol took the liberty of assuming the two chairs on the opposite side were for him and Freya, and decided to take the one further away from the entrance. A servant rushed to pull the chair from under the table and help Harol get seated, another one standing ready to do the same for Freya. One had also attempted the same with Cyrus, but they had dismissed the help with a wave of his hand. "Very well, I trust we are all ready!" lord Mortimer spoke up once the sounds of walking and moving chairs had ceased. "Today we will be having duck roast. One of my long time favourites, that. But first, of course, some soup to warm up the appetite!" As Mortimer finished speaking, the servants that had aided Harol and Freya started walking towards a door Harol assumed went to the kitchen. Soon enough all four of the participants had half-a-bowl of hot soup that smelled strongly of cheese. "Let us begin by honouring the will of Yurnero. May their infinite knowledge one day be passed to us of house Clasz, but that day is not today, for so do the prophecies say", Mortimer recited, with Cyrus chiming in as another voice during the second part. Harol stayed quiet, as Yurnero was not the protector of his house. "Now, let us dig in!" Mortimer finished, and raised his spoon.

Freya followed Cyrus without saying a word, walking next to Harol as they headed for the dining room. Nothing in the house seemed familiar to Freya, and she figured that it would take her quite a while until she would be able to make her way through house without getting lost at least once before reaching her destination. She wasn't really used to being in such great buildings, or in all honesty, anything bigger than a tavern. Finding the way in a tavern was quite easy, pretty much the only room she would need to find was the room she'd be sleeping in. In here, it was an entirely case. It seemed like there was a different room for any kind of action one could think of, or so it seemed to Freya.

As Freya sat down, she was assisted by one of the servants, although the rogue considered it unnecessary. She was perfectly fine of sitting down by herself, why would she need a servant to pull the chaos from under the table for her? It seemed nothing short of useless to her, but she decided to not reject the servant's help, not wanting to seem rude. Rudeness wasn't something that she cared much about, but she supposed that it would be good to show good manners towards their hosts, especially considering the fact that they would be staying here for a few more weeks. And even though the woman was a rogue and had already been so for a fair amount years, she still at least knew enough about manners to behave decently.

When it was announced what they would be having for meal, Freya quietly thought to herself that it did sound like much to her. She was used to eating whatever she could find on the road, which with some luck, was a bird or any other kind of wildlife, if not berries, and if she was close to a village, something small she had managed to get from a store. Whether the food was stolen or pair for, varied. Here, however, they had two meals rather than just one, and both sounded great. While Lord Mortimer and Cyrus did something that seemed much like praying, she remained quiet, seeing no need to cite it.

Harol sunk his spoon into the soup, raised it in front of his mouth, blew some air onto it, and then took a taste. Apparently the cheesy smell had not betrayed him, and he could recall the rich taste and the interestingly solid composition of the soup, while still not quite being pudding. This was indeed cheese soup, the recipe of which house Clasz's cooks treasured. Harol had not had the oppourtunity to ask what made them like the recipe all that much, for it was in the end a rather basic kind of food. Well, they had got this great aftertaste into it, so that was something, if he had to guess.

Mortimer ate slowly, and if one followed his movements, it was evident he was not all that accustomed to his blindness. However, he did not make any sort of a mess. A few spoonfuls later he attempted to start a conversation: "So... Harol, you have been through a lot as of late, both physically and mentally. As much as I would love to make sure that you get through all this, you most likely are more than capable of handling yourself for the rest of the day. Would make no sense trying to pushing you into thinking even more about it. However...", lord Mortimer said, downing another spoonful of soup after reachkng his little cliffhanger. Harol could see where this was going. Mortimer wanted to ask Freya something, there was no doubt about it. He also made note on how Cyrus stayed completely silent, slowly devouring his food without a word, as if in a grudging acceptance to something he disliked.

"We have not spoken yet... Freya, was it? Quite the beautiful name you have. I wish to know our guests better, so even though you seem to be the quiet type, it would be rather awkward to have someone stay with us for a longer period of time without knowing anything more than their name", Mortimer spoke and gulped down another spoonful of his soup. "For example, where do you come from? If I understood my visions, you have not had a definitive home for some time now, but I didn't see more than that about more personal things. You must have grown up somewhere, or were you a traveling soul from young age?" As Mortimer finished his sentence, Harol had emptied his bowl. A glance in Cyrus' direction showed he had had an empty one before him for a longer while, and he was waiting for the main course, no doubt just wanting to be off.

Freya enjoyed a few spoonfuls of the soup, before Lord Mortimer turned his attention to her, telling her he wanted to get to know her better. She supposed that made sense, especially considering the explanation that followed. It would indeed be odd if she were to stay in the house, without her host knowing anything about her. She did take a moment to consider what exactly she would be wanting to tell, before she answered. "I was raised by my mother in a little village, although I left as soon as I was capable care of myself, which was on quite an early age. Ever since, I have had no place to call home, and spend my days and nights either in taverns, or at the side of the road." She answered.

She did leave out the part about not knowing who her father was and why she had left her home village. She saw no good reason as to why she would tell the man that her mother was a wench and had never took decent care of her, leading to Freya holding a fridge towards her and being emberassed of her. She would most likely answer honestly about such things if asked about it, but she'd rather not talk about such things.

Of course, not much people knew her past from before she was a rogue. She had mentioned it last night, but considering the fact that she and Harol had been arguing, she doubted the fact the warlock had paid much attention to what she had been saying. Which could very well mean that if Lord Mortimer were to ask her about it, it could very well be the first time Harol heard about it, too, and in all honesty, it wasn't something she wanted to tell him in public.

Harol thought he remembered most of what Freya had said from before, but he wasn't absolutely certain. He might've just made it up in his head too, because looking at her, no offense, made one think of such life. Harol found himself wondering what Freya's skin would smell like when clean, and instantly continued wondering what had made him think of that. Now that he thought of it, Freya hadn't smelled like she had been on the road for days or weeks. Odd, but that was a good thing nevertheless. He wouldn't need to be saying that out loud though. Could easily be taken as an offense. He wouldn't want that, not at all.

Lord Mortimer had entirely different questions on his mind, and everyone would agree that those were more applicable to the situation at hand. "So a traveler for long? Interesting. That kind of life differs much from our kind of life, staying mostly at our great house, away from others. But I believe that leaving was not a choise you made yourself... You must have been driven out or something alike. Well, I cannot say I would know that, but that is what I believe. You are free to correct me. Whatever be the case, I hope your stay is enjoyable, even if it is widely out of touch to your usual life", he replied to Freya's short explanation, before asking another question: "But then we come to another thing, that being how our house works. Our etiquette might differ somewhat from what you are used to. I could always ask Cyrus to teach you, but I believe", he spoke, glancing at Cyrus in a somehow irritated manner which could be seen even with his blindfold in the way "that you will find it more pleasant to learn with someone you share something with, so I would propose that", now again turning his head, this time towards Harol and nodded at him "Harol here will teach you. Not that you would have done something wrong, but to avoid it in the future. You are okay with this, are you not?"

As he finished talking, Mortimer downed his last spoonful of soup. As soon as everyone was finished with their appetizer, the servants carried away their empty bowls and brought in a platter with an entire roasted duck in addition to a plate for each participant. "Now, I would usually cut the roast into fitting pieces, but for obvious reasons that won't do now. Cyrus, would you mind doing the honours?" Mortimer asked. "Not at all sir", Cyrus replied and was handed the appropriate tools for the job: A long jagged knife and a rather large fork. It took him some time to cut several pieces out of the roast, but he stopped once there were around seven pieces loose. "As per tradition, guests and ladies first!" lord Mortimer said with an eager smile as Cyrus lowered the tools onto the platter and everyone was handed the smaller forks and knives.