The only sounds were the guttering of the two torches and the discordant slap of their feet on the cold dry stone of the floor. The darkness and quiet of the tunnel gave Brandt a chance to calm his pounding heart and think. They’d failed to hold the keep, which ruined the heroic image Brandt hadn’t realized he’d had for himself. What was he going to do, stand above the gatehouse, waving Hochland’s banner like some balladeer in a play? Unlikely. It was only chance that he hadn’t been butchered with the rest of the men, and a Sigmar-given miracle he’d gotten off the wall unharmed. Well, not completely unharmed.

Held tight by his shield, his arm had started to throb in time with his heartbeat. Untreated, he worried about infection. He muttered a prayer - uncharacteristic for his only moderately pious self - and wondered if Roderick had any skill in healing. There wasn’t time to worry about it now, anyway. They proceeded through the tunnel, Brandt unable to see past the torchlight, but taking regular glances backwards for any sign of pursuit. None came. By the time they’d traversed the underground way and Jurgen pressed open the door on the other end, the battle fire had left Brandt’s blood and the dull pain of his shallow wound had taken its toll. He was exhausted.

They took time to survey their surroundings, and Lord Waldo exchanged a few words that Brandt couldn’t hear. Maria glanced back at him and nudged Roderick. They shared a concerned look and the priest was about to speak to him when Lord Waldo turned back towards the group.

“I have conferred with Jurgen,” the boy said as if they hadn’t been standing right there, “and he agrees that it’s too dangerous to simply hail a passing riverboat - who knows what allegiance they have. We’ll head north north-east towards Hergig. A town or village might be in our enemies hands, but the provincial capitol will still be in my families control. Excellent, let’s go.”

As soon as the river was clear of traffic, Jurgen took point and lead them away from the riverbank. Once above the water, he looked about and quickly determined the direction. Brandt found a newfound respect for a man he had thought was a dullard, but it seemed he was elevated to the ranks of the Greatswords due to some skill at soldiery. They moved away from the river, and into the Drakwald.