The weary group of travellers arrived in Viarosa in the evening, several days after that fateful fight - the vampires were still missing and it seemed that only Rhiara regretted their disappearances; the rest didn't really acknowledge the fact. 

It was the second time in quick succession that the Hoffen Girls and the Krossavikers had seen Viarosa - it was a very welcome sight indeed. The Rock that dominated the skyline was painted orange by the sun, slowly disappearing behind the watery horizon.

The travel time had of course been extended on account of the some dozens of refugees from the village-formerly-called Tiraști, whom the party had to take care of. As the rescued citizens informed them, it had once been a proud breadbasket, and the site of one of Illyrica's finest martial academies. To their disadvantage, they were accustomed to fighting the wars of men, and not Shaituns and their spawns. And so they were overrun.

Many lives were lost in an impromptu rescue charge, and there was not enough time to recover adequate supplies for the journey to Viarosa. Thus, the party had to part with some of their own supplies, rationing food and drink to the refugees until they could bring them to the safety of Viarosa's walls. The Knights tried to keep spirits high in light of the dire circumstances, between day-to-day assistance making and breaking camp, the opening of the trio's packed supply of alcohol, and Lucian's frequent sermons and sacramental services to faithful Aesernites.

The group's charity had not come without cost, for when they finally came to the gates of the city, they found themselves drained of supplies and energy, with a platoon's worth of vagrants in tow. Understandably but unfortunately, the city guard refused them entry; still, they sent one of their own to retrieve a superior, and after a brief period of waiting, an extravagantly dressed nobleman pushed through the crowd of guards, trailed by a small army of courtiers and curious peasants. He frowned at the assortment of refugees and travellers standing in front of the gates, rolling his eyes and clearing his throat. “Hello, poor wanderers.  I am Milo Demetrios, the humble lord of the great port of Viarosa.  I am also currently in command of the walls, you see, and so I must ask why exactly you expect to be let through.  Now, I’m a very busy man, so I’d like the explanation rather quickly.”

Upon seeing the nobleman and his entourage, Lucian stepped forwards, the clanging of his armor drawing the attention of Lord Milo. "Hail. The full truth is long and troubling, but the result is that these people have lost their homes and their loved ones. Assuredly, had it not been for the intervention of my companions, they would not even be here. All that we ask for them is that they be allowed passage into the city, so that they may rest well, so that the sick and the wounded may receive better aid, and that those who are able-bodied may work to provide for those who cannot," Lucian said. He had initially thought to give this Milo Demetrios additional details, but for the size of the crowd, and how swiftly rumors flew, he decided against provoking mass hysteria with the notion that a Shaitun had truly died, and his spawn were ravaging the countryside destroying whole villages.

Milo looked relatively unmoved.  “And who are you, exactly?  You must understand that an armed band cannot be taken at their word, especially in these dark times.”

"Lucian Flavia Aquila," he replied simply, staring Milo down.

The lord narrowed his eyes.  He waved to his guards, who began to push the crowds that had gathered to see the commotion back into the streets of Viarosa.  Another group of soldiers emerged through the gate, their hands gripping their swords.  "Aquila.  Now that I know these people are your petty followers, I shall certainly turn them away.  Viarosa is a city for the truly faithful, not rabble rousing rustics." 

Lucian quietly sucked his teeth in response, subtly nodding his head. Then he spoke, lowering his voice down so that only he and Milo could hear what he said. "I understand that times are dire, and the city can only afford to open its gates for so many people. Perhaps if I were to pay the [i]entrance fee[/i] for my guests, we might see it open for them?"

Milo gave the knight a condescending smile and held up his hand.  The guards around him relaxed, and the lord himself gestured for Lucian to come forward.  "For the betterment of the city, I shall have to look past heresy."  He paused.  "For now, that is.  Move your band of serfs forward, then.  You can pay while they're walking." 

Lucian lifted a hand, waving it forwards, and Kinara and Sorano gestured for the caravan to follow. As the refugees and the core members of the party proceeded into the city, Lucian waited for the opportune time to present a bag of coins. Subtly, he handed it off to Milo.

Milo took the bag and measured it with his hands.  Satisfied, he handed it off to one of his guards, taking a last glance at Lucian and then turning to walk back into the city.

The Paladin was not yet done. Walking up to the nobleman, he snatched the edge of his tunic and pulled him back, again speaking just quietly enough for him alone to hear, "A city for the truly faithful, indeed. My Father knows your heart, and you will be met with His judgement sooner than you think."

Milo snorted.  "Your father was as common as these people you bring through my gates.  I don't fear his wrath any more than I do yours.  Take your hands off me, now." 

Lucian complied, lightly nudging the hypocrite as he released the cloth. "You should," he growled. With him out of the way, he followed the party into the city.

---

As the party entered the city, Herbert tapped Athaliah on the shoulder. "Do you mind fetching Ceara and her target? I have to run a couple of errands."

"Uh," Athaliah turned round to face Herbert. "Sure, I don't see why not." she shrugged. Being Herbert's errand-girl for a few hours was slightly insulting, but at the same time she was proud that Herbert had trusted her to collect something that seemed so important not just to him and Erika, but possibly to the entire cause. 

For the first time since the fight at the village, Rhiara looked somewhat pleased, or at least relieved, that Ath was going to be leaving her alone for a while; she had something of her own to take care of in the city. Nevertheless, she still felt some measure of worry when she and Athaliah were separated.

"Where am I supposed to be meeting her, Herbert?" 

"The tavern's called the 'Laughing Fiddler', it's a ways past the centre of town and a bit small." Said Herbert, before continuing to give directions. "Thank you for taking care of it."