Emmaline considered the problem as she settled into Amal's lap. Her natural instinct was to flee, the young wizard was a firm believer that most problems were soluble if one simple ran far enough and fast enough. Beyond that, something about the interaction with Vandershute was setting off alarm bells. That the sheriff was working some angle was obvious, but Emmaline couldn't guess at what it might be. Perhaps the would be noble had some political project that depended on him keeping the city safe from beastmen. She didn't doubt that she and Amal could slip out of the city, but this was their first night in anything close to civilization since they had left the pirate port in Lustria and she didn't want to rush out into the night. The issue was decided when a distinctive knock sounded at the door.

"Herr Baba?" Greta's voice came through the door, somewhat nervously. Emmaline stood and crossed to the door, opening the latch to reveal the girl carrying what looked to be a stone crock of whiskey. The guards outside glared at her as she proffered it to Emmaline who took the crock and pressed a coin into the girls palm, probably more than the whiskey was worth, but having to walk the gauntlet of guards was worth a little extra. Emmaline closed the door and threw the latch before returning via the side table and picking up a pair of mugs meant for serving ale. She poured a goodly measure into each and passed one to Amal.

"Well, I'd rather not run out into the Drakwald into the middle of the night," she admitted. Assurances of the lack of beastmen not withstanding, every citizen of the Empire knew that to travel the forest roads at night was to court worse than death.

"We are trying to go westward anyway, so I don't see that passing up a night in a bed is really worth an irritating escort."