After what seemed like hours of endless hallways and rooms that gave him not even a whiff of alcohol, Axol finally concedes defeat when he reached the battlements. It had been far too long (a day) since he had the chance to lift his spirits with the gods' blessed beverage, suffering from withdrawal. His irritability has been showing; he notices... A rare moment of self-reflection that led him to think back on the previous night, arguing with Andrea and even prompting the archer- whose name he hadn't even asked- to seek solitude and away from the sellsword's chaotic nature, even claiming that he'd settle for twenty percent. A hint of guilt burned within his chest. [color=0072bc]"You're supposed to be better than this now. Small wonder why your wife is haunting you."[/color] He sighs, leaning his back against a wall, remembering with a bitter smile. Countless times, Aena had scolded him and made him feel like a whimpering pup for getting into brawls and scaring away their neighbors.

[color=00aeef]"Five times, Axol!"[/color] Aena would yell, her voice a stark contrast to the usual sweetness with which she usually spoke. [color=00aeef]"Five times you managed to get yourself into a fight... In ONE DAY! And you aren't even drunk!? What am I to do with you? Those men's wives came to the bar just as I was getting ready to go home... Gods, don't you even think of the position you put me in whenever you make a mess like this?"[/color] It never even crossed his mind back then that other men had wives, parents... A family, waiting for them. No, he should not allow himself to think of that. Not with the lives he's already taken. [color=0072bc]"Means to an end."[/color] He nodded to himself, though his voice was shaky. His eyes wandered to the soldiers around him. [color=0072bc]"Bags of meat, is all. You're a sellsword, Axol- it's your job. You need the money. Your son needs the money."[/color]

The wary eyes of trainees and veterans alike followed him as he walked through the battlements, the cold winds feeling familiar now. As if his size and physique weren't enough, his weathered greatsword added to his concerning presence; thick and rusted, six feet in length and only half an inch shorter than the man that wields it. Axol paid them no mind. He'd watch them spar with their swords, watching the form, the footwork... It was all still foreign to him despite having already been a sellsword himself for a good twelve years. He only knew to swing, pierce, and bludgeon with the old blade. Though despite his dislike for remembering, Axol can't help but wonder from time to time how the weapon's original wielder used it. The knight that he took it from, who he found dying on the battlefield. The reason he was called "the Unworthy." The sellsword couldn't even recall his name anymore... Though what he told Axol was not something he could forget, try as he might.

After some aimless wandering and stare-downs with some soldiers, Axol saw a familiar figure. The pointy-eared woman, Andrea, studied her book calmly as she faced the vast outskirts of the fortress. He could not find it in his heart to trust her with her oddly inconsistent eye colour and cryptic offerings. However, Aena's voice once again bickered at him... With a heavy heart, he strides toward her. [color=0072bc]"You-"[/color] He quickly stops himself before he points his finger at her like he did last night. [color=0072bc]"Andrea, I meant."[/color] He stood there for a moment, his deep-blue eyes unreadable despite the man's supposed simplicity. It was silent, save for the breeze and the clattering of steel that permeated throughout the battlements. Axol, in spite of all he's faced, found himself unable to say the words that he wanted to say to the woman. He sighed, his eyes now reluctant. 

[color=0072bc]"I am sorry for my behavior last night."[/color] Axol finally managed, the apology denting his pride deeply. [color=0072bc]"Know that I only acted that way because I needed assurance on who I'll be working with. That, and because I need the gold."[/color] He considered telling Andrea why, but he hesitated. [color=0072bc]"However, I still do not trust you.[/color]" One may fault him for the many things he lacks, but his honesty is one of his few admirable traits... Albeit often blurring the lines with rudeness. [color=0072bc]"I do not wish to squabble. So, I ask you as a companion, why are you here? I've stated my truth already, and wish to know yours."[/color] In his mind, Axol wondered if his late wife was proud of him. He stood there, arms crossed, but his expression was softer now, awaiting Andrea's response. Still suspicious, but earnestly hoping to be swayed.