Annika exchanged a look with Orion though Filenia ignored the confessor as she might any minor servant. The last vestiges of her dark twin flashed with irritation before her training took over and she picked up one of the plastic paddle and began to help Ragnar and Logan drive the raft towards the beach. The thief and the priestess together were barely able to keep the stroke with the Vuldrok but fortunately the slight curve wasn't a large detriment to reaching the shore. Annika considered for a moment how strange it was that they had lost virtually nothing in the crash. As an Estakonic cleric she was expected to carry everything she owned and beg for her supper, Ragnar didn't own anything she was aware of other than weapons and armor, Logan's possession were few, illegal and mostly hidden within folds of his clothing. Only Orion had any real luggage and the majority of that had been the sacred banner he was charged to deliver. She hoped that the strange fact was a good omen of some kind, perhaps a moral from the Omega Gospel, but for the moment she couldn't think of it.

"We certainly picked a nice spot to crash," Logan observed as they reached the shallows and Ragnar dropped his oar and jumped into the thigh deep water. Annika waited a moment longer then hiked up her skirts and followed suit, feeling the warm sand between her toes beneath the cool clear water. Filenia extended her arms to Orion imperiously. The knight looked from the woman to the case, repleate with its seals and gold filigree. 

"I got it," Logan said, a little too eagerly and snatched up the case, leaving Orion to lift Filenia in his arms and step into the water, carrying the woman to the shore. By the time they reached the fringe of beach where sear looking grass swept down out of groves of tended fruit trees the had already been noticed. From the northern spur of the bay a dozen horsemen were racing towards them, colorful pennons snapping from laser lances chased with heraldic designs. Ragnar growled and reached for his heavy pistol, thumbing back the hammer with one of his massive hands. Annika touched his hand to prevent any precipitous action.

"These are not our enemies," she said in Vuldrok, happy to see a slight flash of worry from Filenia at her use of the barbaric tongue. Of course a Hazat would be amazed at such a thing, they were a provincial house compared to the learned and cosmopolitan al'Malik Annika thought accidly.

"Says you," Ragnar rumbled, but he relented and tucked the weapon away. The horsemen were only a dozen meters away now, their horses slowing to a trot. None of them were leveling their lances, though their faces were closed even if not exactly hostile.

"It might be better if you didn't tell them who I am," Filenia whispered urgently. Ragnar shot Annika an 'I told you so' look a moment before the leader of the group, a handsome young man, wearing armor and carrying a sword and pistol on a tooled leather weapons belt, swung from his saddle. The nobleman's spurs clinked as he stepped away from his horse, keeping his weapons hand clear. He glanced from Ragnar to Orion, taking in Annika's ecclesiastical garb. He seemed wary, thought not quite overtly hostile.

"Ho, strangers," he called in a thick Arogonese accent, "what brings you to my fathers duchy?"