The spirit, it might have been apple brandy, burned down Emmaline's throat. It was rough but no worse than some of the rotgut ALbrecht had provided over the years. She cleared her pallet by taking a bite of apple and then passed the bottle back to Neil. It was easy to imagine his situation, given a chance to rise above his humble beginnings, but struggling to keep body and soul together while he studied. It was a huge risk for him to steal, something that could easily see him booted out of the Gunnery School if nothing else. Emmaline wondered if he did it because he enjoyed it, or because he had too. She had considered that herself on many occasions. As Albrechts apprentice she was more or less required to do whatever the bald old leecher said, but she knew she could support herself by becoming the mistress of some wealthy merchant or minor noble if she choose.

"You can't be too much of a piece of shit," she pointed out reasonably, "afterall you did save me from the orcs." Without Neil's help she certainly wouldn't have made it out of the mine. She was under no illusion that her magical talents would have allowed her to best a dozen of the brutish greenskins.

"Thank you," she said somewhat lamely.