[center][h3][color=E4D00A]Hugh – Basilmeron Castle Stables[/color][/h3][/center]

Hugh thought of Jeanne as he passed the convoy to meet the first horse.  Her offhanded personality, quick wit, and obvious charisma made her already seem like a larger-than-life figure in his mind.  Though perhaps plain to some, the charming thief struck Hugh as more than commonly attractive; there was something about a girl with dimples that never failed to catch his attention.  While reaching out a hand for the horse to sniff and get to know him by, Hugh also posited that it was more than the woman herself that fascinated him—it was the archetype she represented.  One who committed petty injustices in the name of justice, who vowed to uphold morals whilst behaving immorally...Hugh pictured such a paradigm as intriguingly unrealistic.  Such an outlook belonged in the contemporary world as much as a shadow-skulker belonged in open combat.  It was the stuff of folk tales and plays.  Then again, if an actor could be a knight, perhaps a thief could be a hero.

Leading the first horse toward the convoy, Hugh carefully backed the good-natured animal into position and then attempted to strap him in.  Unfortunately, the instant that the knight let go of the creature's reins, it shifted out of place just enough to make attaching the leather straps about as possible as spitting into the wind.  Once more Hugh tried before he sighed in amused annoyance.  He patted the horse on the head and left it behind, retracing his steps back toward the courtyard.

A few steps into the plaza, he shouted out, “Hey, can someone lend me a hand with the horses?  Darned thing's got stage fright, won't stay still long enough to be hitched.”  While speaking, he plucked out a strand of hay that had magnetized to his scarf and flicked it onto the cobblestones.

[center][h3][color=DC143C]Sanguin – Basilmeron Castle Courtyard[/color][/h3][/center]

Some seconds passed with Sanguin's reddened eyes resting on Gaius's face.  Her mouth was poised half-open as if the language had abandoned her just as she began to speak.  The nearly seven-foot tactician loomed above her, more like a statue than a person, and intimidating even to a seasoned fighter.  Finally, the young woman found her tongue.

“I'm...Sanguin.  Pleasure for me too, or whatever.”  She stifled a yawn, trying not to appear unimpressed when truly fatigue was the cause.  “Tactician, huh?  That means you use magic...and fight with a sword, huh?  All I've got is a sword.”

At that moment, a burly man appeared at her side and draped an arm over her shoulder.  His coming hadn't been stealthy, for the sheer size and heft of his axe meant that its scraping over the cobblestone could be heard by pretty much everyone, but it seemed Sanguin hadn't been aware.  Affixing him with a befuddled expression, as if to say, [i]what's this guy doing here?[/i], Sanguin did little as Ronin began to speak.  “Don't belittle yourself, wolf maiden!  Yours may be the sword that carries us to victory!”  He cast a rueful glance at his own oversized weapon.  “As for me, I doubt I'll even be carrying my weapon...” in a flash, his wide, brash grin had returned.  “Nevertheless, you can count on Ronin to fight by your side!”

Out of everything said so far, Ronin's declaration seemed to cheer Sanguin up a little.  Apparently not minding him leaning on her, she made an approving noise; clearly, fortitude spoke more clearly to her than typical niceties.  “Not bad.  Hell of an axe, though.  Sure you can swing it?”

Ronin burst out into laughter.  “Can I swing it!  Hah!  Can you get a load of this?”  He asked Gaius as he nudged an impassive Sanguin.  “Sang doesn't think I can swing it.”