[color=DarkGoldenrod][h2]Victor Moltke, Abigail Harlow and Meredith Shieldbreaker[/h2][/color]
[B]Location:[/b] Harrow's Keep Townstead, South Gate to Furlton Farm.
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[color=Gold]”S-sir, please stop throwing things at the barrier, I’m really worried about what’ll-”[/color]

[color=Crimson]”Quiet now, there’s never been progress with a little brute force!”[/color]

[color=Gold]”I know, but don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to-”[/color]

Abigail turned around just in time to see the flash of light and then found herself once again face-first on the floor, her tongue bitten. She rolled onto her side and spat out a mix of dirt, spit and blood, rubbing the spot where her jaw hit the cobbles. [color=Gold]”Lord Moltke…?”[/color] she voiced out, dusting herself off.

[color=Crimson]”Yes.”[/color] came a semi-defeated tone.

[color=Gold]”Am I allowed to say ‘I told you so’ yet, milord?”[/color]

Meanwhile, several leagues away in the hilltops surrounding the keep, a young rider on a horse tugged on the reins and galloped down the valley towards a dilapidated farmstead. By the time he had broken through the treeline surrounding the old plot, cantered through the weedy field and ducked into the stables, his steed’s flanks were steaming with the exertion. Hurriedly but with an air of trepidation, he pulled open the barn door enough to slip inside.

Behind those worm-eaten doors sat a little under a dozen men in the gloom. Several glinting pairs of eyes settled on the boy as he cut through their rough bodies, their set brows and sneer of short-temperedness. They were all wearing armour which, whilst polished and gussied up for occasion, bore the telltale abrasions and cuts of real warfare. Their skin fared no better, what parts of it were visible under the leather and chainmail and colours of Balaur. Behind them all, lounging demurely in the wreckage of an old wagon, was a hulking figure lit only somewhat by the cigar in her gnarled fingers.

[color=d8cfbe]“The-...the keep has returned, ma’am.”[/color]

[color=DarkOliveGreen]“And Moltke?”[/color]

[color=d8cfbe]“Alive, ma’am.”[/color]

A thick cloud of smoke escaped from her lips as she grumbled and hefted her bulk from the wagon. [color=DarkOliveGreen]“Assemble the men. Let’s see what Victor has to say for himself.”[/color]

Still nursing her jaw and riding at a much more leisurely pace than the scout that preceded her, Abigail rode her twitchy pony side by side with Victor as they also approached the abandoned farm. [color=Gold]”You don’t think she’ll be mad at us, do you sir?”[/color] Abigail asked, fidgeting with the reins.

[color=Crimson]”No, of course not. She’ll be relieved at our survival.”[/color]

Abigail sucked her tongue thoughtfully, as if she was rolling the words in her mouth and ultimately deciding to keep quiet. She merely nodded, her gaze catching sight of twenty one men standing to attention somewhere beyond the trees. Before them stood one woman - one behemoth, dressed in finer gear than the troops behind her with a large and well-worn axe resting lazily at her hip. Her lips curled into a toothy grin at the two approaching horses and Abigail rubbed the back of her neck subconsciously.

Meredith Shieldbreaker strode towards the duo as they unmounted from their steeds, arms spread wide in a gesture of welcoming. [color=DarkOliveGreen]”Victor, Abigail! So nice to see you again. I hope the old man didn’t boss you ‘round too hard this time, eh?”[/color]

[color=Gold]”W-Well, actually we-”[/color]

[color=DarkOliveGreen]”Good to hear,”[/color] Meredith talked over the squire, giving Abigail a resounding pat on the back that sent the girl keeling forwards whilst her other arm swung around Victor’s neck in a display of camaraderie that dragged his upper half flush against the vicinity of her ribcage and in a low, chillingly cheery voice, she asked  [color=DarkOliveGreen]”So, mind telling me what all that was about then?”[/color] 

Victor was dwarfed by the woman and quickly decided it’d be well to explain the situation as best as he could.[color=Crimson] “Don’t look at me like I'm responsible for whatever that was! I wasn’t even invited into the damn talks themselves! I don’t think anyone has answers, and I want as far away from this place as possible!”[/color]

[color=DarkOliveGreen]”Wasn't even invited?”[/color] Meredith's grin turned merciless. [color=DarkOliveGreen]”Can't imagine why, you seem like the kind of guy who'd really brighten up a peace negotiation. Harlow, stop eating dirt and get back on your horse. This isn't your parents' estate,”[/color] she idly barked as her meaty forearm unfurled from Victor's throat, setting him free.

Abigail was still recovering from the friendly pat as she scrambled to her feet and onto her steadfast Munchkin. [color=Gold]”Nice to see you too Lady Shieldbreaker,”[/color] she chirped with strained optimism, a sore upper back and a shaky smile.