Dalious awoke to the sun at his face.  It was a displeasing feeling, though it was quickly covered by the shade of a massive structure.  He cracked his neck forward, realizing he was saddled upon a horse with a large man tending the reins behind him.  He took a moment to glance at the company he was currently and somehow within, noting the different faces and such.  None of it made much sense to him until his memory had started to return.  He was wounded, and somewhere along the way everything went dark.  Reaching back with an aching free arm, he felt the bandages behind his shoulder.  Whoever they were, they patched him up and took care of him.  It was a nauseating feeling to be in one's debt, but he had always stuck to a pirate code and wasn't about to give up his morals just yet.

The man burdened with riding him along was at the rear of the company, not saying a word to him even though he must have already realized he was awake now.  Dalious remained quiet for awhile as he watched them lead into this arena.  Perhaps they weren't as kind as he initially thought, maybe he was their prisoner and they were about to give him up to some authority.  The pirate tilted his head back and rested it on Gortul's shoulder, awkwardly staring at him direct in his eyes.

"Would it be possible to drop me off at the local tavern, mate?" he asked in a pleading manner.  "I'm not so big on group meetings.  Anxiety and all."  

He gave off a smile, but kept his head against the man's shoulder as it was surprisingly comfortable.  He had only just now realized that his head was aching more so than his shoulder wound, which currently wasn't a problem at the moment.  The gaze from the large man told Dalious everything he needed to know, be silent.  Either that, or this man just naturally gave off the intimidating factor.  Dalious huffed and tilted his head back upright.

Being ignored, the rider brought him in at the rear of the company, where Dalious quickly realized he was not even an issue to these people.  A few politicians of whatever city they were in came forward, and some words were had.  'What the hell is going on?' he wondered.  Then he heard it, coming from the apparent leader of said group.  

"I am Cyril Serio, the Prince of Barcea."

What would be the odds of that?  Being rescued and cared for by the great prince of Barcea himself!  He had never thought to come across royalty in all his days, but then again, he had never thought a dwarf could ever get the best of him either.  Strange how life unfolds, but such is the way in war times.

As the company moved together into the arena, Dalious was halted by one of the guards and left to stay where he was.  He gave off another huff, though he didn't much care for politics anyway.  He leaned back and crossed his arms, unsure of where he stood in all of this.  The only thoughts that came to his mind were that he owed these people a favor, and that the prince must of had a lot of coin.  To aid a prince in war time surely could help the pirate's financial status.  He turned his attention back toward Gortul.

"So, how did a man like yourself come to be a sentinel?" he asked, having already known about the famous soldiers.  "Must be quite the ladies man with such a title?"  He impatiently waited for a response that never came, at least not quickly enough.  "Don't tell me you're a bloody mute?...I need a drink."