There was the barest hint of a smile on Markus' face at her admittance of who she was. He sensed an arrogance about her, but at least the woman had a sense of down to earth wit. "Yes," he said. "But I didn't know who you were when I saved you." The vagabond shrugged. "Not that it matter's much now." Perhaps it would matter to the authorities or anyone wanting to score big on a bounty later, but at the present, momentary survival was all he cared for. 

"I'm just glad you're not fancying delusions of retaking the city." He said, his sarcasm matching hers as he shook his head. He had a vast problem with aristocrats, particularly ones who believed they owned everything without any sort of effort. Calliope might be a stone cold bitch (from what he had heard), but at least she seemed learned and competent in various ways, magic being the most prominent so far. "We might want to take fake names, or at least change the name of the ship at some point. But for now, the Weathered Witch is fitting." 

He took a large swig of whiskey as well, drawing his sword as he gazed out the back window. Through the blinds he could see the ocean, though they had some city to wade through still. The moon on the water looked the same as it did when he used to gaze across the lake at Highmeadow. He couldn't afford to get comfortable on this night, even with what he might consider to be a fine omen. 

"Are you ready?" the swordsman asked.

Calliope laughed, giving a wicked grin. "[i]Boy[/i], this is my city. Though I need to leave it now, we won't be stopped leaving, even if we need to gut a few pigs." 

Markus couldn't argue with that. "Very well, [i]child[/i]." He replied, and the man didn't bother to look back after the statement as he opened the door into the alleyway. With rope around his shoulders and whiskey bottles and various other supplies in his pack, and a sword in his hand, all he would need would be a hand crossbow or one of those matchlock pistols Dwarves were so fond of and he would be completely set to handle any true situation. 

"You can't have everything," he whispered to himself, while an entire city was out for their blood. 

The two ducked and dodged down alleys and sidestreets, avoiding all people like the plague and making sure not to make any noise past the smallest footstep, leaping over fallen rubble and even shying away from puddles. They were moving down a decline, the city lowering as it neared the docks. The elevation was one of the reasons Calaverd had survived the hurricanes and monsoons of the Sea of Swords, its main streets being high above sea level. 

Minutes later, they made it into where the seaside market would usually be held. But it was too late for any merchants except the seediest ones to be skulking around, though shouts were heard from the men every which way. It was hard to tell if they were soldiers or citizens, and even if they were the former, where their loyalties now lay. Crouching down, Markus placed a finger to his lips and led Calli behind the stalls and into a back garden that one of the richer seaside merchants had made between buildings, making their way through a small cobblestone path, turning the corner and ending up behind two guards who stood watch, facing outwards rather than toward them. 

Markus glanced Calliope's way, and she gave a nod at the questioning look. The blademage crept forward without a seconds hesitation, and with a swift motion, he beheaded the left guard from behind. The other man didn't even notice his comrade had lost his head until the skull bumped against the ground, and he gave the smallest whisper of alarm before Markus ran him through, swiftly and efficiently piercing the lungs. No alarm had been raised.

Before them floated the Weathered Witch. 
[@Penny]