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[b]Location:[/b] St. Albans (Stage Coach Post)
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	As soon as the carriage came to a stop in front of a Stage Coach Post in St. Alban's, Fyror, followed by Gerard, promptly exited the carriage. They needed a change of horses before they could continue on with their journey. Fyror broke away from Gerard to talk to their carriage driver, who happened to be one of Colchester Garrison's carriage drivers and a soldier in his own right. [color=DC143C]"Good sir, we have a change of route in mind for us. If we break away from the Great North Road and take this Stage Coach Route headed straight for Manchester, we should buy ourselves some precious time. The quicker we get to Gretna Green the better,"[/color] he explained to the driver, pulling out his map and pointing to the route. 

	Gerard was thankful enough to be able to stretch his body once they arrived at their stop over. He wasn't that much used to sitting, being cooped up in a small coach, as usually he was the one who drives them. It won't be long to have the horses changed, which after that they'd continue on with their journey. He hopes that with their newly planned route, they'd be able to have a much bigger chance in getting there on time to save Millie. 

	While he there,  his eyes darted towards a familiar sight, and only then realizing that the broken down coach farther across him, was the exact same one that took Millie the night before. Seeing it the way it made his heart tense. What could have happened? There was no mistaking it. He absently paced towards it and just some steps away. [color=a2d39c]"This is it. "[/color] he gestured Fryor, [color=a2d39c]"This was the same coach that took Miss Millie away that evening."[/color] Gerard then approached one of the people, a worker at the post, who the both of them will definitely get some answers from regarding the coach. 

	Fyror finished up discussing the change of routes with their carriage driver before starting to help change out the horses to speed up the process. Before he could do much, Gerard called out to him. His gaze swung over the stable hand, and his brows furrowed at the man's words. [color=DC143C]"Are you certain?"[/color] he asked. Regardless of his question, he stopped what he was doing and followed Gerard over to the broken down carriage. 

	One of the workers who was working on the broken down carriage caught sight of the approaching men, when they came face to face Gerard asked him questions immediately. [color=a2d39c]"Did you see the owner of this coach? Where are they?"[/color] His eyes burned with intensity as he looked at him, in an almost demanding nature yet the other one seemed to be less affected by it. 

	His eyes switched to Gerard, and to Fryor, shrugging as he went back to his work "Can't say I have. With ol them noble types that come and go here. I might've, if one of yous help me remember." he side glances Gerard, and then he understood what he was trying to mean. 

	Fyror let out a sigh, figuring out pretty quickly what the worker was implying. The man wouldn't speak unless he was paid to do so. Why couldn't people just do things out of the goodness of their hearts? Fyror looked annoyed as he reached into his red jacket and pulled out his wallet. He took out a few coins and handed them over to the man. [color=DC143C]"Will that be enough for your troubles?"[/color] he asked tersely. The man seemed to take a minute to look over the coins and then them before nodding his head. [color=DC143C]"Good then. Answer my friend's questions. Who owned this carriage, and where did they go?"[/color] he inquired, getting straight to business. Fyror looked a bit imposing as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest and looked down at the man with an intensity to his eyes, but perhaps that would be to their benefit for a change.

	"Well, I didn't get their names but I got a decent look at them," the man began. He went on to explain that there was a lord fitting Rutherford's description, a young, pale woman with brown hair who was clearly Millicent, two brutish men who were likely guards, and of course their carriage driver. "They didn't stay for long. They paid off a man to take them to Nottingham. This all occurred before sun up this morning." Fyror nodded his head in understanding before glancing over at Gerard.

	Gerard felt a tentative relief at what he heard, glancing at Fryor and back to the worker. He did not delay to press him with more questions. Worriedly glancing shortly at the state of the broken down coach, he asked him [color=a2d39c]"Did something happen? "[/color] 

	"See, they all came to the post on horseback, telling us the carriage has broken down a few miles south." the man cracked the joints of his knuckles then shook his head "Seemed like they were pushing too hard in a ride that's meant for light travel and not for long hard distances." 

	[color=DC143C]"If they've been pushing that hard as is, when they get to Nottingham they are likely not going to stop for the night. I suggest we don't either when we reach St. Albans if we wish to have any hope of cutting them off in Manchester,"[/color] Fyror stated grimly to Gerard. 

	It's been some time since all happened, and it's most likely that Millicent is almost or beyond halfway to Gretna's by now. They can only hope there's still enough time to catch up on them, and with a little more intuition they might. Gerard can handle to push through with their traveling, if it means having a good chance on catching up. 

	[color=a2d39c]"We should push through, it's the only way we can have a chance to reach them."[/color]Gerard turned to Fryor, more determined than usually patient in the tone of his voice. Not even his own tiredness will make him stop for anything, it's not like he can have some proper rest with Millie still out there.

	Fyror nodded his head in agreement before spinning on his heels and heading back to their carriage, which at this time had a fresh set of horses. The both of them quickly got aboard the carriage, and then they were off again once more. They would need to make two more stops at stage coach posts along the way if they wished to keep their horses fresh. The more time wasted was the more time Lord Rutherford would have to get ahead of them, and for them to make it to Gretna Green first was not an option. They had to cut them off if they wished to save Millicent's life. 

	Fyror was anxious to say the least as he sat back in the carriage. He let out a sigh and held his temple between his fingers as he leaned back against the seat. His mind went back to what that man had said in regards to Lord Rutherford's company. [color=DC143C]"I should have figured that Lord Rutherford would bring guards with him. He is not going to give up Millicent willingly, Mr. Connolly,"[/color] he stated, looking over at Gerard. His lips thinned, and a deadly serious look came upon his face. [color=DC143C]"If our confrontation becomes violent, I want you to grab Millicent and go. I will hold them off the best I can."[/color] One of his hands fell to the hilt of his sword, while the other patted his musket. And he meant every word he said to a fault. Gain his loyalty and he will be your greatest ally, but hurt an innocent life and he will be your worst nightmare.

	Gerard could see his seriousness on his words. There was truly no way of knowing the danger that comes their way. Undoubtedly, it would be a tough encounter. If it were only possible to assist him when things ever turn that way, he would do so. He could not take another death of a companion, with an unspoken pledge to watch each other's back as most partners do. Yet saving Millie was their ultimate goal, and no matter the costs even though possibly trading a life for another should be unnecessary. After some thought, nevertheless Gerard gave Fryor a short nod, as he agrees on the plan at hand. 

	The daylight streaming into the carriage diminished with every mile they traveled, and yet every second felt like an eternity. For the duration of their travel to St. Albans, Fyror mulled over what information he had again and again in his mind and scoured his maps for any side routes that would buy them some time. He only stopped for the short time it took to change out horses at each stop. Their combined tension permeated around them in the carriage. Soon enough they would reach St. Albans. The sun had set, but it seemed their journey was only just beginning.