"'You got the leader, I got the rest' remember?" Cyrdic replied, referring to a quip they had made earlier on their strategy. 

The Ostlander felt the chill in the air now that the battle had waned, made all the more evident by the steam rising from his lips. He slung his shield back over his shoulder as he approached them at the crest of the small rise that ringed the camp. Producing an old stained rag, he ran it over the blade of his sword to give it a once over. He merely wanted to put it back in its scabbard, he would worry about a proper cleaning later. The muscled imperial felt the wound in his leg like ice, but judging by the lack of warm sensation from any real amount of blood, it was mostly superficial. 

"Besides, we're not getting paid extra for headcounts." Cyrdic reasoned. It was a simple merc job with an objective in mind. Not a hunt for bounties. With that he checked Camilla with a quick look on if she was harmed. She did the same with him, though she was a bit more confident in how she did so, circling him and finding the spot in his leg, muttering in Tilean, likely at how foolhardy Cyrdic was. Gunir didn't notice any of it at all.

"Don't remind me." The Dwarf chuckled. "Twenty Krowns each for lifting the siege. I can barely buy a twelve mug of Bugman's for that!" 

"Well, human beer's cheaper." Cyrdic said simply, and both he and the Dwarf grinned and gave a laugh. Referring to a massive rant Gunir had made when they had first met, detailing all the vices manling drink had along with its one virtue. Of course Gunir had a point, that was ridiculously low for fighting a battle that was five to one. But with forty krowns between him and Camilla, they could feed themselves for weeks provided they didn't throw caution to the wind with their earnings. Even considering the inflated food prices in a starving town.  
[@Penny]