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It had been over for awhile, the fatigue of continued battle having been reaching the peak of overwhelming Amir and his followers, when the cleric had been deposited to their side. He was grateful for her assistance, especially when she had so little resources to spare. At the very least, she would be valuable in future planning, along with the Sister. It seemed like the army was in capable hands, which he could give a satisfying nod to. The only thing that remained was securing the objective of the assault, and dealing with the one who started everything to begin with. Rath had placed his faith in Amir's abilities and character, doing an injustice to that was simply unacceptable.

"Sisters, please stay here with the rest of the group and continue patching them up. Our leader might need assistance, which I certainly intend to supply-"

As if on cue, Overly-Obsessed Harold had stumbled his way out from the skirmish and had started a charged toward's those under Amir's ward. Though a well-aimed bolt had cut his momentum, pure obsession was the only thing keeping his charge going. So he was after the cleric still? "Unacceptable." Amir commented, bringing up his blade to intercept the coming blow, only to be surprised by the cleric beside him. Frustration that had built up for days had released into one last swing, giving a sickening crunch as shattered glass met his cranium. It couldn't be just left to that, not after the endurance he had shown as of now. His blade was brought down, no longer meeting resistance, as he continued to push back the bandit leader. Vertical slash, to the unguarded shoulder, the slamming of the handle into his chest, intended result continued debilitation on top of blunt force trauma to the head, disable his axe hand to prevent further recovery...And thrust.

The axe flew from Harold's grip, to be retrieved later, with Amir's slash, the pained grunts and bloodied scream soon following. The blade was plunged into his chest with an unsatisfying, sickening schlllllk, before being withdrawn back to his person. It was a clean exit wound, in a vital portion of his chest, and one that Amir felt satisfied with. "This is the end for you." He whispered, flinging the blood coating his blade to his side. The blade was cleaned on the material of his elbow before being sheathed once more at his side, punctuating the end of the bandit leader and the need for the skirmish.

Harold fell to his knees and stared wide-eyed at the ground. "Who the... hell are you... that clothing... you're not with... the guild..." He then fell forward, all the fight finally gone out of him. "Damn it... that savage... led us to our deaths... ....Rin, I... ..."

"Sounds like the fighting's stopped, Ora." The man in the cell said with a cough. "Let's hope whoever was fighting the bandits won"
"...Do you think they have any food with them?" The girl answered a bit bored.

"Ha, I hope so. Apart from the little bit that you've been sneaking me, I haven't really had a meal in three days." He laughed. Before he could get a response from the younger girl, footsteps sounded down the hallway.
The man stood up and leaned against the bars of his cell, anxious to see if who was coming was a rescuer, or an executioner. "If it's the bandits, rush them, try to get Ora out and keep them from getting to her... haven't eaten in a while so I'm not gonna be strong enough to keep them busy long..." He thought to himself.

Though the man had been preparing for any eventuality, he hadn't been expecting the person to turn the corner to be who it was.

"Rath?" He whispered softly, leaning closer to the bars to get a look, "Is that you?"

Wil almost hoped it wasn't his friend, the nomad looked a lot older then when Wil had last saw him, he looked like what Wil imagined Rath's father to look like the first time they had traveled together. Wil also had grown since the pair had last been together, dark brown facial hair, with just a little grey was kept trimmed in a what was considered a fashionable style for Wil's age covered his chin. Rath had adopted somewhat the same kind, no doubt the nomad would find that funny.

However while Rath looked good for his age, recent events had taken a toll on Wil's body, his captives hadn't been kind to him, aside from Ora, and beatings had been the norm. His facial hair covered a few of the bruises, however his lip was still swollen and one of his eyes blackened. He looked tired and he didn't even wanna think how he smelled, he assumed bad the way that Ora had been keeping to the other side of the cell since she'd been put in here a few hours ago.

Apparently he looked bad enough that Rath had been stunned into silence, Wil chuckled. "I guess I don't look as good as I did before, it's good to see you again Rath... errr... unless you joined the bandits of course! Oh, the girl here is my apprentice Ora, she was caught with me." Wil lied quickly, no need for anyone to know she was a former bandit herself.

"You ask why do I not talk much?"_______←«_____ ←«____ ←«___ ←«__ ←«
_____"...Because there is nothing to say."

Rath, unused to such abrupt contact, was taken aback for a second when Wil grabbed his shoulder. "....."

The soldiers looked at each other uneasily. Rath wasn't one that people generally got close to, so it was rare to see somebody besides his daughter act so close and casual around him, even to go so far as to touch him; he was a highly ranked person in Learania, after all, so the act was technically punishable.

"....Give me your arm." Rath replied, as he pulled Wil's arm around the back of his neck and began to help him climb the rest of the stairs. "We have healers that can tend to you... ...but you shouldn't move around much for a couple of days." Rath contemplated for a moment. "I'm not sure how you could be here for two years and not be more informed, but... nevertheless, you know we're in a war. I'd recommend that the two of you return to wherever you now call home, or to Eyris, but you're in no condition to travel on your own... and to be blunt, we don't have time to bring you anywhere. But I can't ask you to put yourselves in unnecessary danger by traveling with us and I can't just leave you two here while you're recovering, either... to be honest, you've created a bit of a problem for me..."

- Kierkess Renvald -

Kierkess awoke in a daze, considerably annoyed that he woke up in a daze. That usually meant he'd just got destroyed on the battlefield. He sat up at once, not cringing at the pain in his sides due to the splitting headache being worse anyway. This particular sensation brought back fuzzy memories of the time he'd saw this martial artist break something or other with a single decisive chop and decided to try the same with his head. In his mind, the resulting skull fracture had qualified as a victory.

Collecting himself from the ground, Kierkess came to realize that the fight had ended without his prior express written consent. And also someone had stolen his kill. Chalking his mad rampage around the fortress as barely a victory, he resolved to do better next time and also find a Heal staff with which to bash his head in with because that's how staves worked in Kierkess's world.

It didn't take long to locate Bedivere, who had gotten a bit of a wound when Blondie had been "fighting", if fighting was a boner-driven blood sport for the affectations of consenting and non-consenting persons of the female persuasion. Which it was, actually.

It was around inspecting Bedivere's wound that he noticed this most noble steed who had bucked him off because of a little cut ("Seriously, we're going to have to talk about that later") had already received some amount of medical attention. "Oh, sure, remember the horse..." he murmured, failing to realize he wasn't bleeding anymore and thus had been remembered. Regardless, he knew further battles lay ahead for this...guerilla force? Army? Justice Squad? Hrm, yes, Justice Squad. That sounded good. Dispensing justice all over and whatnot. Anyway, he knew that more bloody conflicts would be just over the horizon, requiring the services of someone just crazy enough to headbutt the enemy commander twice. For justice. That being the case, Kierkess collected his weapons and fell in with the others.

Wil smiled back at Ora, "Rath and I have been friends a long time, remember the stories I told you of Elibe when I was imprisoned? He was with me through all of that, now it sounds like he's involved with something similar, and these two are taking orders from him so he must be in charge. Well, Rath, if you'll have me I'll come along... you can fill me in on everything I've missed and what you've been doing here on the way."