[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Shilage[/color][/h3][/center]

[color=c0392b]"... He's buying us an opportunity, I'm afraid."[/color] a bitter, blackened voice drifted in, a layer of unwilling smoke over the back-and-forth. Rudolf, after his immediate admonishment, had fallen gravely quiet as the realities of the situation unfolded in his mind. He looked over their number thrice, coppery gaze weighing it all out... and finding them woefully, [i]lethally[/i] out of balance.

It boiled at him. It boiled, but he kept the train of thought going. It was all but a necessary distraction, from the words tumbling end over end on the inside, from a snowy morning in a place north of here, the same that had earned him the blade he fought to force his grip away from.

[color=c0392b]"We have to face facts in this situation— And that starts with our relative strengths."[/color] The narrowed eyes shifted back, following Eliane's as they watched Zeke and the raiders begin to assemble, then to her, then finally to Chisato. [color=c0392b]"We're at half muster right now. We've more non-combatants to chaperone than those of us meant for a fight, and most of them fall into that category because they can't [i]move[/i] freely."[/color]

Over to Ferdiad, dangling along his scythe without much care. The jongleur was a different beast to everything he'd thought he'd known about demonkind until last month— chief of all in not being a disembodied Shade, floating in the dark spaces of the ruins. But even that said, his elemental alignment with shadow, in the dead of night? It didn't matter [i]how[/i] willing they were to presume that the question of sunlight weakening him could be thrown out by his new tangible form— you'd still rather fight Leviathan on land, rather than open sea. There was no principal difference in these two concerns.

[color=c0392b]"As he tails us, he'll be able to slip in and out of shadow where we have to rely on traversing the rooftops the way we have. He can strike from any angle on a dark night like tonight once he arbitrarily decides the jig is up— nipping at our heels, forcing us to make hasty choices, adding one more layer of cut-off routing we'll need to contend with. He could either steer us right into a waiting snare... Or begin picking the soldiers under our care off one by one. You all saw what we were dealing with back in Lunaris."[/color]

A long ride, on the order of two, three hours down from Falcon's Nest. Their initial scuffle with the unwitting troops that were tailing Zeke hadn't been terribly strenuous— but it and the crash landing that had come on its' heels both ate into their resources. Then their extended stint of roof-hopping. All told, they were nearing on five, six hours since they'd made haste from the fortress city—

His jaw, questionably helpfully, throbbed as a cool breeze found its way through the metal of his helm. That, too, had been a [i]quick[/i] turnaround— unless any of them had caught a wink of sleep on the airship? It had only been half a day since they had tangled with Garland, and found their full strength [i]thoroughly[/i] matched. For as much as Rudolf had grown to trust his own stamina and powers of recuperation... His gaze towards the other three was skeptical, behind the impassive visage of the helmet.

[color=c0392b]"All seven of us, fresh and fully-equipped, couldn't put him away in a straight fight. At [i]noon[/i]. [i]Without[/i] more people to look after, try and protect, and spread our own attention thin."[/color] He felt his stomach turn, but kept his voice as measured as he could. This was the truth. None of these things were incorrect observations. The current of logic underpinning each was sound, which was why...

[color=c0392b]"As we are now, getting into outright combat would be hopeless. He'll be tireless in the dead of night, we've been on the move all day."[/color]

It felt an impossible thing, the way chains could twist around your neck right when you believed them to only tie your hands. When he had accepted the new line of steel on his back, he knew it came with more weight than the physical— even if he'd rushed into it, he knew better than to take an oath of protection lightly.

[color=c0392b]"Further, now that he's called this patron of his in, we would have the both of them to deal with unless we make ourselves scarce. They get here before then, and deal's off."[/color]

Hardly all that long ago that Eliane had... no, no. She'd proven herself to be basically over that bullet to the spine. Don't get distracted by the unlikely. The main issue was that Loki's fondness for thrown knives and high mobility would make quick work of their hangers-on— and provide split-second distractions that Ferdiad could use to really hurt the Kirins with that scythe. It wasn't all that dissimilar to the dynamic he and Miina had forced the turncoat to contend with in Drana Asnaeu. All the more reason to pull them away from it— he knew the efficacy.

[color=c0392b]"This is a chance for us to get some distance between them and ourselves while he has them [i]both[/i] distracted— get these men somewhere safe. Be it the church or elsewhere, we need to go while the window's open."[/color]

Metal dug into leather. His hand opened and closed, reflexively, as the helmet's visor stared at the spy bidding them away. There had to be something else. Surely. Something he couldn't see. Something that didn't enshrine the same base impulse that he had fought so hard to beat down and suffocate— that he could fulfill his oaths honestly.

[color=c0392b][i]'I'm sick of hiding',[/i][/color] he had said. [color=c0392b][i]'I'm sick of running.',[/i][/color] he had meant. He had already abandoned one person to their fate too many in his life. She was with Danube and the stars now. Knowing what he knew, very well, of demons like this? Of Loki, who was supposedly a more experienced version of Esben himself save that same rational underpinning that he had followed through to here? How could it not feel the same?

[i][color=#a34686]'Be willing to sacrifice your own honor.'[/color]

[color=c0392b]'Honor is the refuge of the strong. I can scuttle it if it means seeing us home.'

Imir damn you both... Surely, neither of us quite meant [b]this[/b].[/color][/i]

He half-turned, blading himself, ready to go if he had a prayer of getting the logic through to the other two's heads. He jaw worked quietly, keeping them both in view as best he could. If it came to it... he probably [i]could[/i] force the issue. But at what point was that the right call, and at what point did you cut your losses and reconsolidate? If he managed to intercept a drawn firearm before it went off, in most negotiations the act of chambering the round still meant all bets were de-facto [i]off[/i].

Suppose they did go along with this.

Who stepped up for directive then?

His head was awash... Over his right shoulder, the visor's gaze shifted forward, one more time.

[color=c0392b]"I do need to make one thing clear: I'm going to wring your neck for this."[/color]