[h3]Jordan Forthey[/h3]

	He didn't miss Jaelnec practically jumping back from Deo'Irah trying to touch him, nor the small jerk of hand that betrayed the nightwalker had to instinctively stop himself from slashing out before he haphazardly apologized. [i]Yes. Right... Don't touch people who have just been in a fight, or attacked, at least until you're really sure that they have calmed and know you're there and not dangerous.[/i] It wasn't exactly the first time he had seen a reaction like that, mostly from the civilians who had only dealt with incidents once or twice, or never before. Old guards, adventurers and knights in active combat roles mostly drank too much. Smoked. And didn't sleep. Some snapped. Not all of them, not Vela, not Quintin ... unsure about Sir Freagon ... but a fair few. 
	Protecting and saving people could be a burden, definitely, but [i]someone[/i] had to do it. One'd think that after several years, there'd be something better than 'do something else and hope it goes away'. But it had worked this far, so it, well, was good enough. Celebrate the victories, keep yourself busy. Have a pint of ale (not enough to get [i]drunk[/i]-drunk), sing a song, train, take care of weapons and armor, brush the horses...

	The younger nightwalker let go of his sword and latched onto the recommendation. The "do something else" seemed to be the rather morbid task of helping Quintin take care of the farmowners, or perhaps them and their visitors,  but... Well, it needed getting done and probably [i]anything[/i] was better than being seized up, paralyzed by the horror of it all. 
	Numbly, Jordan looked down to where Jaelnec had dropped his arms, only to realize that he himself still had both of his arms full, and set his spear against the wall to unload his crossbow and sling it on his back. [i]Now[/i] he had at least one hand free to pick up the other guy's weapon. It wasn't a [i]good[/i] sword, but unless he somehow indicated he had found another one to use, it was probably what the nightwalker was accustomed to and would probably [i]eventually[/i] want returned. 

	[color=ed1c24]“Sweet Jaelnec… please stay by his side and keep him busy, Jordan, if Sirs Yanin and Freagon will allow it? He needs a camaraderie we cannot provide, until his mind settles. When we return to Borstown I will draw a hot bath for you; you’ve earned some rest… but for now the work is not over. The calm of succour is a harder draught to brew than battle’s heady high.” [/color]
	She was still there, too... The kind, vicious, compassionate, lithe, pretty, innocent-looking priestess with secrets she'd just barely let them get a glimpse of. Jordan didn't quite know to be around her - she seemed like a being of a too different class to be really himself around (unlike Nabi, who, despite being from some nation and kind he didn't think he had even heard of, seemed somehow more familiar, perhaps? he'll need to check on her, too), so for the most part defaulted to guardsman. 
	But the squire and off-duty Fadewatcher was also tired - not just physically from coming down from the battle, but mentally, too. Usually it would be some singular beast-monster or highwaymen, not three dozen people, most of whom had been cut down or slaughtered. That wasn't normal for him, either. That one final moment of indecision which might cost Bren his health - and would have cost the town healer his life if it weren't for no less than [i]three[/i] other capable healers on their side. That didn't help, either, the whole thought of maybe things would be slightly less fucked up if he hadn't doubted himself. 
	 Fortunately or not, he was mostly just competent enough to manage to keep things together, and just sort of manage to deal with his own things, and some of others', too. Just okay. He was doing okay. 

	"[color=00aeef]Yeah, yeah, I can do that,"[/color] he replied, sounding perhaps slightly out of breath, perhaps almost slightly distracted, somehow, but in general, just [i]normal.[/i] Even if he didn't necessarily [i]expect[/i] himself to sound just like he had merely ran a couple miles or something, and nothing more significant had happened. The calm after battle when you had actually time tho think about things... Wouldn't he know it? [color=00aeef]"I'm quite certain Sir Yanin would just tell me, us if he needed us for something else. In which case, we can just do that something else. And Sir Freagon ... I wouldn't know, but Jaelnec was with our group for now, yes?"[/color] So he was probably their business until Sir Freagon said otherwise. 
	He sighed, picking up his own spear and straightening up, glancing to where Quintin and now Jaelnec were. [color=00aeef]"A bath sounds nice."[/color] 
	Back at home and among the servants, a bath would have been a large half-barrel bowl you poured a few buckets of cold well-water in, and then a couple boiling kettles to make it more amicable to touch. You couldn't really go comfortably in it unless you were a kid, and usually it ended up more lukewarm than actually hot since you had other things to do than boil water on the stove or pit fire. The actual Glades' mansion had had a true bath, and he supposed Bor Manor would, too, if Lady Bor was willing to lend it...
	[color=00aeef]"We all could use some rest, and well, something not [i]that,[/i]"[/color] he lifted three of his fingers off his spear to vaguely motion towards the field, [color=00aeef]"Don't think you can really get used to it, or if you [i]can[/i], it's probably not a good thing."[/color] Oddly enough Sir Yanin had said something along those lines, too, even if his reaction was more along the lines of a cold 'don't like it' than any visual or behavioural indication of being actually shaken up by, well, anything. 
	[color=00aeef]"But, yeah, the resting will have to wait, a little. But thank you. For caring when not everyone might."[/color] At least not until they were injured enough to actually need healing immediately. A fair amount people tended to regard guards as just kind of [i]there[/i] until they themselves acutely needed help. 
	He offered Deo'Irah a weary smile and, adjusting his grip on his spear, walked over to see how Jaelnec and Quintin were doing. 

	There would probably be a [i]lot[/i] of equipment to clean up come next morning...

[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	[color=f7976a]"They have been getting bolder, and defenses have been getting sparser,"[/color] Yanin stated near where the others stood discussing, not really taking a break to speak while impassionately rolling over what they now knew to be one of the dead crusaders to see if this one, out of all the ones littered across the grounds, had something interesting on him. [i] It was easier to get away with things. Easier than it had been a long time. [/i]
	Lady Bor assured them she'll have someone else take care of the bodies. [i]As long as they're trustworthy.[/i] Bury the bodies. Reuse the metal and general supplies. Burn the rest. Do not leave anything identifiable. 
	[color=f7976a]"Seems reasonable."[/color] She [i]was[/i] right in one matter, at least. It wouldn't be optimal use of their time to spend the next two days digging a hole big enough to fit all these corpses. Especially when one of them - as much as there was a 'them' to speak of - was effectively dying as they spoke. [i]Time was running out.[/i] He'd informed Kinder and Deo'Irah; if only they could stop wasting time.  

	[color=f7976a]"Will see,"[/color] he simply responded to the Baroness' insinuation that there will be more work. He was already involved with the happenings here, and there was yet to be any guarantee going where he intended to go would end with a resolution, so they might as well listen to what the 'job' was. 
	
	When Quintin - and the squires - went to take down the bodies in the tree, Yanin briefly went over. He didn't assist, or offer to, just watched silently for a couple minutes, before returning to his perhaps equally morbid task of looking for information. [i]Any[/i] information.