It wasn't that Rook really minded walking, per se, it's just that he preferred not to have to do it across long distances. Montgarde was an archipelago nation; if you wanted to get anywhere, you were going to have to interrupt your afternoon stroll with a sailing trip sooner rather than later. As such, he wasn't used to marching, and it wore him down. Not physically, of course, but mentally. 

When the company stopped in front of the trees crossing their path, it took a few seconds for Rook to become fully alert. He reached into his shirt and clutched his totem, but it refused to twitch. It seemed that they weren't actually in danger. The situation was still shifty, of course, and Rook decided to wake himself up by helping to move the severed trunks off the road and out of their way. He was covered in sweat by the time they were done but at least his mind was no longer numb. 

He listened to the chatter of the other guards and caravan members and found he didn't really have anything to add. It wasn't unheard of for bandits to abandon traps they had set if no prey showed up for a long time. Rook didn't know the area well enough to know how often this road was used. Perhaps the bandits had indeed backed off, intimidated by the sight of a contingent of White Guard mercenaries. [i]A nice thought,[/i] Rook thought to himself, amused, [i]but a little vain, no?[/i] 

When they stopped to rest, Rook sat down in the shade of a tree near the stream. Employing his skills of stealth, Rook watched [color=FF66CC ]Adele[/color] bare her legs as she cooled her feet in the water. He felt a pang of longing and a sharp memory of the night they had almost shared the day before. She was a very beautiful woman, but... she had [i]issues.[/i] 

When food was spread around, Rook got up and helped himself to some bread and strips of beef jerky. To his surprise, he heard a familiar accent -- the sing-song accent of the southern isles. Rook himself had lost that accent during his time as a whaler. He had no desire to return to Montgarde, but he immediately warmed a little to the woman regardless. She introduced herself as Gisele Margot and explained that two attempts had been made on master Hemming's life. This didn't really phase Rook. Nobody hired White Guard mercenaries for a trip like this unless they needed to. [i]Now I'll be disappointed if we don't have to fend off assassins at least once,[/i] he thought to himself. 

And that's when [color=FF66CC]Adele[/color] seemed to lose it. Rook raised his eyebrows in surprise. Was that woman honestly indignant that they might actually have to do some work to earn their pay? And being treated as animals? Hardly. It was relatively standard procedure that mercenaries, bodyguards and other hired swords slept in barns or the like during journeys. 

He stepped forward and gently -- [i]gently[/i] -- grabbed hold of Adele's arm, tugging her away a little bit from Gisele. "Adele, please, calm down," he urged. "This steward here, uh, Gisele, was it? Gisele came to us on her own initiative to share information with us that she was probably ordered to withhold from us by her master. I think the least we can do is to be a little bit grateful, instead of taking out our frustration on her. Alright?"

[color=66FF33]Zacharias[/color] also took it upon himself to defuse the situation, though he apparently found it necessary to bring money into the conversation immediately. Rook decided not to say anything about [i]that[/i] -- if they could weasel some more pay out of this, good. "Yeah, right," Rook added, nodding. "So, you know, thank you for sharing this with us, but it does change the nature of the mission."