He found himself smiling quite often when speaking to her. It'd only been a short while, and it was only now a small bit past noon, but he quite enjoyed having her around. "Anytime." he told her once he swallowed a bit of the food. He still chewed a bit of it idly, but otherwise he had only needed a quick bite. Her comment on the plate and chainmail was true enough, to a point. 

"It's not as heavy as some make it out. But wearing it all day? You'll be tired as hell at the end of a march." he said, his hand leaving the mule's reins and sliding over the beast's furred neck to keep it comfortable. He'd learned long ago to take care of work animals. He'd always had a soft spot for them, and people's livelihood depended on them as well. "I've only been in one actual battle, near two years ago. Some of the Knights on foot had been walking all day and were even ordered to sit down behind the front lines, to keep them fresh for the fight if they were needed."

"[i]Perhaps we can exchange stories over drinks then, after this job is through. You have me curious, Markus.[/i]" The words from Valerie's mouth had him turn his head to regard her. He'd not given much though to it, to be honest, but it was at that moment he noticed that Valerie was actually quite pretty, as well as interesting. He'd learned after a campaign or two to never gallivant about like his mischievous Elven friend up ahead. Women mercenaries would go through the same trials as he, and they should be treated as such. But Valerie seemed quite easy to talk to, for some reason. Maybe it was because they had similar backgrounds, but truth be told he had abhorred the high class women back at his home. [i]But she escaped the same as me...[/i] He admitted he was curious too. "I'd like that." he told her. 

As they exchanged words, the terrain sloped ever upwards, curving this way and that. With the latest curve, north east was now on their right, gnarled trees on that side of the road growing a tad shorter and more spaced out than the thick treeline to their left. Shadows intermingled with the illumination of the day from under the looser canopy, and if someone were to look deeply into it, they would swear all of the ubiquitous dark and light would play tricks on the eye. Past that, there was a short drop that led to a slope that declined downwards into the lowlands. 

It was from there the Warcries were heard. Primitive shouts and roars from the downward slope echoed through the trees, and humanoid shapes within the shadows began to grow clearer as the monsters raised their weapons and continued to shout. Half of the Caravan jumped at the sudden noise, the wagons halting and the crossbowmen now making sure their armor piercing missile weapons were cocked and loaded. A few Rangers that had signed on were stringing their bows, trying to keep their fingers from shaking. Markus suddenly grabbed the reigns to the mule, and gave Valarie a look of calm warning, though there was trepidation in his dark eyes. 

He led the Mule back to one of the Dwarven workers on the wagon behind them. A few of them pulled the tarp off their wagon and pulled out crossbows and Axes they had stored with the spices. They began to load their crossbows with heavy bolts. Most men would need to use their foot and body weight to do it, but Dwarves were known for their strength and they did it by hand. "Looks like a scrap commin'" one of the Dwarves said to Markus as he grabbed the reigns. 

"It might be a big one. Stay on the Wagon, fellas. Probably best to let them come to you." he told them. The yellow bearded one gave a nod and aimed down his crossbow. Another brown haired one donned chainmail and hefted a well made poleaxe. "Worry not lad, we'll handle ourselves well enough. You and the lass stick close." 

"I know my contract." Markus chuckled. He knew the Dwarf meant that they could survive easier together, but the fact was Markus and Valarie had been assigned to guard that specific section of the Caravan. He still marveled that he'd found the ability to grin before a certain life or death situation was to occur. It was probably who he was speaking to. He might be more acquainted with Elven culture, but Dwarves had a down-to-earth quality about them. [i]Well, that makes sense.[/i] 

He turned around and unsheathed his Hand-and-A-Half sword. It looked well used but sharpened, with a pommel (and even the first 4 inches of the long blade) wrapped in leather. He gestured to the other side of the wagons with a nod to Valerie. "C'mon." he told her, slipping past the Mule he had handed them, and vaulting over the wooden supports that connected to two other mules to make it to the other side. [@Luminosity]