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Van stared after the departing figure, disappointedly. He had wondered if the two survivors, that Renard had spoken of, were the same two he had met earlier.

((Considering I have nothing to do...))

Bellamin let out a quiet whisper and began to slide backwards off his usual ((and quite dirty)) seat. The bartender; having Bellamin in the bar since his days as a lowly city-guard, threw a well worn and quite flattened pillow over the spellsword's head. In a matter of milliseconds, the Solan was flailing in his sleep as he fell towards the pillow. If you cared to look, you'd notice he somehow grabbed some old L shaped item off of a nearby table; which was out of arms reach.

Regardless if you saw this odd phenomena or not, you can hear Bellamin groaning about something he called Pudding, as he hugged the thing will zeal.

"I haven't been in here for ages!" sighs the bard theatrically to herself as she swept into the tavern. Swiping an apple on a nearby table and attempting to pocket another, Thea's dexterious fingers picked up something that wasn't fruit. "Eh?" She put the gun in a pocket anyways. She plopped down on a table, humming and munching. Scanning the room quizzically, Kary heaved another sigh. It seems she'd missed something worth a song. The half-elf glanced at Vincent and noting the intriguing look on his face, decided she'd have to ask him. She took a bite of her apple and started to examine the gun she had taken from the table.

Without even looking Kail's way Vincent answers with a distant, almost dreamy tone in his voice, "I'm not the only survivor to come out of my homeland. If what he said is true, then two others survived the years after the war. But that's impossible...all routes out of the kingdom were cut off by the Kestral forces, meaning the likelihood of a civilian escape is unlikely. And all defending forces, save for twenty of my order, died in the defense of the capital..." Vincent's eyes seem out of focus, as if looking back to his long abandoned homeland, "And the ones that did survive...well...that's a story for another time. But two survivors...impossible. There should only have been one."

"Of the twenty people that survived the assault on the capital, the only two that survived were myself and a man named Borus. Borus was...my brother...was anyway. I've long since denounced him. The other eighteen survivors were killed by him. Only I survived...but who else could have walked away from that killing ground?"

"No...only grown men." Vincent replies to Lazarus, having not really been offended at all by his eavesdropping, "Not like he was even close to any of the men either. He was the general in charge of the regular army. He only survived by combining with our ranks. What few men came with him died in combat in the coming days..." Vincent stands, somewhat abruptly and walks to the door of the tavern. "I must meditate on this. Hopefully it will yield some enlightenment into the matter. Take care, all." And with his farewells said Vincent proceeded out of the tavern and into the street beyond.

Re entering the tavern a little dejected and his clothing more reminiscent of Miyr then of his homeland, Renard sighed. He had been told another building existed in this town that served drinks but after wandering the streets for a good day he stopped searching for it any longer. He knew some of the patrons were grinning, he could feel it like an itch on his back. Twice he had to suppress the urge to attack them. Finally he made it to the bar and sat down gesturing for whatever the barkeep was reaching for anyhow. A lot had happened in the short time he had spent here, the tournament was a humbling experience, he could recognize it as such from the get go. His brash actions almost cost a women her life, and had given him an example of what being haughty and blind truly meant. Taking a sip his head lowered he stared at the contents of the glass, regretting the fact he asked for it at all. Furthermore he knew he couldn't keep Vincent in the dark forever, sooner or later he was going to find out about what happened after that battle and about why Renard's entire order gave up the benefits of science and steadily replaced it with magic. Besides was he going to let rumor constitute truth, when truth could break a man apart? For a moment he thought about giving the drink back but then reflecting on it he swallowed it in one shot and asked for another.