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The mail cart's interior was small, but despite the presence of the weapons, armor, and two passengers, it was not cramped. Most of that could be attributed to the removable top, a feature that had been installed to prevent the cargo from getting rained on during a long trip.

The journey was peaceful, but rather monotonous. One or two small farming communities lay along the route, but the vast majority of the road passed through dense forest, restricting the scenery to the very edge of the woods and a narrow strip of sky. To make matters worse, the cart's aging driver insisted on telling her life story.

Apparently, she had been one of the original founders of the mail service, back when the previous queen had just ascended to the throne. Seeking a way to modernize her nation and provide a legacy for her reign, the queen had commissioned a network of post riders to help coordinate the kingdom. The cart driver had been a famous horse racer at the time, and had volunteered out of a youthful sense of patriotism. In the decades since, she had faced down highwaymen, learned to repair the mail carts with whatever was at hand, and gained an in-depth understanding of how to run a national bureaucracy by courier.

She shared this wisdom with Anya, Grim, and Iron Soul. In excruciating detail.

Mercifully, the setting sun picked out a thin plume on the horizon; the townsfolk were cooking their dinner. Spotting this, the driver went silent and tugged on the reigns to slow the horses. By the time the sun had fully set, the cart was stowed in the back of a friendly farmer's barn, and the driver had arranged a meeting with the local Resistance leader in the main house.

The travelers were served a simple meal while they waited, and were half-way finished when the door opened.

"Heh! Glad ta see ya again, though I din't expect it to be so soon," said the scarred old merc from the night before. "I take it y'all are here 'bout the Haltan soldiers camped out in my backyard?"

After taking stock of the whole situation, and how much room she was liable to get out of the mail cart once everyone was in, Anya sat in her corner, leaned against the outer wall and looked at the scenery run past them. It was a boring ride, a very VERY boring ride, and more than once Anya had rested her head into her hand only to awaken slowly hours later only to discover that the rider was STILL talking. Not only that, but there was nothing to eat, nothing to do, no chance to go outside and stretch her legs, it was HORRIBLE! This must be what it was like to be imprisoned and knowing you had nowhere else to go, there was simply no way humanity could have conceived of something more boring to be in, and this had to be very close to it at the very least.

Normally, she would have soared on feathered wings, ran with the grass beneath hooves or swam as light reflected off fishy scales, but being inside a box on a bumpy road with nothing to do was just...wrong... She had to remind herself a few times that simply jumping out of the thing and telling the others she would be right along...would be a bad idea, she had to sit there, look pretty and wait for the ordeal to end. At least when they would get off, she would be rid of the driver and her box for a little while, hopefully go back by themselves or by horse at least, she had a good understanding with horses after all.

When the cart finally stopped, Anya was the first one out, darting past both males towards the freedom of OUTSIDE. She wasn't claustrophobic, but given any choice she would easily take an outdoor approach first and did not hide that fact should she be asked. With staff in hand, Anya stretched to the limits of her height, up on her booted toes, delighted to be standing on her own two feet. Once that was done, she adjusted her full cloak around herself and waited for the others and herself to be shown in.

In quick succession, they were herded inside, set places to sit and given a bite to eat while awaiting for the person that would give them their final details. The food was simple, but it was warm and filling, something Anya appreciated gladly and thanked the cook for. She might be smaller than the Solars, but she likely could out-eat them if she really was hungry. She burned up energy like a litter of kittens at play and surprised more than one with her appetite, although this time she calmed down, knowing these people were already cutting things short by offering meals to strangers.

When the door opened at the other end and the mercenary came out, Anya greeted him with a faint smile and a nod.

"I thought you might miss me, so I decided to come visit with my other friends, although we could see about clearing that pest problem while we look around." she said with a bigger smile, trying to keep the mood light.

The old merc grins widely, and is about to respond with a rude gesture when Anya speaks.


The grin takes on a slightly more lecherous note. "Milady, I would have been mor'n happy to give you a tour of my town, unescorted. But, so long as you brought..." He looks over at Grim.


"Right..." He takes Grim's hand. "I'll keep as much of that in mind as I can, what with my age 'n all. As fer me, call me Toyin."

"Well then, lets get down ta business, eh?" Toyin begins arranging cutlery and food scraps on the farmer's table, forming them into a little map of the town.

"This is an ol' market town, built on a crossroads. A large central field has the town's shrine, with space surrounding it for trading the goods that come through here. Four streets lead out from there, connectin' to the main roads."

"We figger they've got two scales of infantry in town. The majority's camped out at the center, with some holin' up at the inn and most in tents next to the shrine. They send out five-man patrols every now an' then, usually with a hawk flying above 'em. However, I don' think these kids have had much in the way of ground trainin'. The Haltans don't like to have to garrison places outside the trees; makes 'em uncomfortable to have all this open space."

Returning to the makeshift map, he sets down a radish slice midway along the north street. "This is Raemonn's house. Its under constant guard by 'bout a dozen Haltans. They're close enough to call for help if they need it, but we'd have a minute or two before reinforcements would arrive."

Toyin pauses for a moment to let all that sink in. "I've got six experienced fighters on hand, ready to follow your orders. With you three here, I bet we could kill every Haltan in town, but doin' so would leave the townsfolk open ta reprisals later. So our problem is about springin' Raemonn without turning this place into a target for Haltan vengeance."

The man was a bit too old for her tastes, but were here a bit younger, Anya might have taken him up on that offer, had she the time and inclination at the moment. But for now, she just smiled her best for the old mercenary, he WAS dedicated to the town and his people and that was to be admired at the very least. As the conversation went towards the more serious matters, Anya thought about how she was going to fulfill her end of the rescue. Sure, she could likely enter the house and rip open a bunch of guards and make it easy to escape, but also make the occupying force all the more vengeful later on. She was going to have to sneak into the house and have an idea of the layout...unless...

"Mr.Toyin... are all the houses around here built relatively the same? If that was the case, then you could draw up something about the interior and the number of rooms and such, so we knew what we were getting into. As it stands, we can have a good look at the exterior but once inside we're pretty much going in blind."

Iron's plan made some sense, at least it would pull most of the guards that were up and divert the patrols that would be combing the area. Beforehand, she WOULD like to get a look at the place before she actually went inside during the night. If Toyin could get interior maps, this would likely be very easy, maybe just have to knock a guard or two senseless before getting the old man out. Otherwise, she guessed she'd have to look in the windows to get an idea...

Looking to Grim Iron shakes his head. "First off the assumption that we will have to kill 50% of the occupying force is a gross over estimation. If we get into a fight we will have to kill at most 10 to fifteen men at the most, to secure a proper get away, and that is about one fifth of the forces. And lets not forget that we are here to rescue a man that the Bull has given direct orders to keep imprisoned. Either way we are going to piss him off. Ten or fifteen men is going to pale in comparison to that."

Running his hand along the top of his head Iron continues. "This whole plan is deigned specifically to avoid as much actual combat and bloodshed as possible."

Iron leans forward and looks to everyone before looking back to Grim. "Lets say that we do go with a plan of trying to talk our way in and out. If that action fails one of two things will happen. One, and this is the best case, the people involved get arrested, we then have to break them and Raemonn out of custody. Which would involve killing most of the occupying forces here, most of them on the escape. Two if the talking fails, a fight breaks out, all of the men guarding Raemonn's place get involved, meaning we need to killl all of the men at Raemonn's place along with any reinforcements that get there before we can get away, and we will then have to be on a fighting retreat with an old man."

Scratching his eyebrow above his right eye. "With the plan put forward, if the people at Raemonn's place make a call for reinforcements, most of them should be occupied by me, Toyin and his men. The infiltrators, will have night time and a distraction to help keep people from noticing them. Even if they are noticed, there will be no need to kill those who notice them. All that they are likely to have to leave behind are a bunch of men who are sporting maybe a few broken bones and some really bad headaches."

"Well I'll trust the Dawn's assessment of the tactics, and once Anya gets back we'll be more prepared to finalize plans. I just feel more comfortable talking than I do fighting, outside of a tournament anyways." Grim shrugged and leaned back looking at Iron.

"You're the god chosen general after all, I'm just a juggler."

Grim laughed and shook his head, "Like I said Iron my friend I'm no general, and I certainly didn't mean to imply you were bloodthirsty, truth is while I can handle myself in a scrap I simply prefer diplomacy." Grim grinned rougishly again and tugged on one of his sideburns.

"So what do you think of Anya? She's not one of us I'm pretty sure and there's something familiar about how she moves. Can't quite seem to place it though."