Their sleep in the Palace of Kings was fitful but welcome compared to the prospect of camping in the fierce blizzard. Even the hunter Daixanos wasn't keen on the prospect of sleeping outside this night, and so they accepted the Jarl's hospitality despite political differences. The Argonian himself slept on the floor, but laid near one of the hearths to keep his cold-blooded form limber. He was allowed his own area, preferring his solitude. 

Early that morn, Galmor Stone-fist met with them after they had eaten a heart breakfast, bringing them into the planning room where no doubt many assaults on Imperial forces had been planned. A map of Skyrim was laid out on the slab of a table, knives and nordic fetishes pinned to it in various places. He spoke with a rustic, northern accent and a voice like grinding stone, but he sounded was anything but a dumb brute by the weight of his words and the surety of his posture. 

"It's two days walk from the gates of Windhelm to Valtheim Towers. I have not been there since last spring, but my scout, Waldulf, informed me the locals no longer consider it a welcome crossing. You've been given three days provisions and water to match. If you must take water from the river, do not step in it. Boats do not travel there for a reason. If the crabs do not get you, the current will. Which makes the crossing even more dangerous, so beware." 

"No horses?" Kris asked, though she had doubted the prospect initially. Mounts were expensive, and it was doubtful Ulfric trusted them enough to come back with the beasts in good health. 

"The road is steep, and the crossing is not fit for a horse. Unless you rode to Riverwood, it will be impossible." Galmor replied, looking at Kris and her companion without betraying any emotion. There was a hardness to his gaze that looked as if it could turn to wrath in an instant, but he seemed a hard enough man to reign his rage in save only for his true enemies. The berserker tendencies of the nords were not to be unleashed lightly. "Come back as soon as you are able, honored guests." 

Dax gave a nod, but did not speak. His bow held easily in his clawed hand, he simply walked out of the room with Kris like as not behind him. He imagined his constant state of silence was grating, but she had told him she was a soldier. Placing action higher than words was hopefully not a new concept to her. He had never been too keen on conversation, even amongst his Hist brothers. Tsleeixth had always been the speaker. He still missed his old friend. 

The air outside was crisp, but the sun kissed his reptilian snout and his crocodilion tail lashed in anticipation. The nords and refugees of Windhelm alike watched them leave, one Dunmner woman muttering about 'lazy argonians' as she poured out some spoiled soup into the sewers. Dax did not look at her or even stop, as he normally would. 

His mind was on the hunt this day.