Ambrose returns to the Rabin camp. He hums to himself as he walks over to his tent. He tosses a few pieces of wood on the nearest fire as he walks past. He pauses to watch the flames dance in the low light. He exhales softly and heads to his tent, setting his sword in the corner. He looks around his tent and takes a mental note of the messes he needed to clean up. Piles of clothes, pieces of shattered wood from sparring practice, among many other things. He sighs and slips his shoes off before plopping onto his cot. He puts his arms behind his head, before closing his eyes.