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Rosalie was, perhaps, being tested -- or so her thought went, at least, her head picking up the pace as she eased up to take his place in front of the crowd, tugging her gloves into place and quite pointedly not looking to Locke. She wouldn't lean on that crutch.

Odd owl out, Rosalie was one of the few Second Swords not wrapped up in diplomatic duties, in keeping Noble households from each others' throats, and since the riots broke out, in leading forces to quell the furious people of the city. That was not where her talents lay. No. Instead she stood here, in front of a bunch of fresh-faced recruits and peasants, given the dubious honor of leading them away into the woods.

It was a token effort. She knew it was. Her superiors couldn't possibly hope to find anything. But damned if she'd let the recruits know that.

"This will be a week-long mission." Her voice was surprisingly low, soft, just loud enough to carry over the mutterings of the crowd and still them some, hopefully. She fought the urge to pinch her nose, instead stabilizing her posture and hiding her frustration. She did remarkably well.

"We'll be combing the areas of the forest that are safe -- areas we've already measured out and marked on maps -- and venturing no deeper than that. There will be no heroism or diving deep into uncharted territory. If our missing Hunters are that far into the Blackwood, there's little we can do to help."

A pause, to gather her thoughts, looking down toward those closest and taking in their faces. "Our new Swords have been through basic training, and know basic survival and fighting skills. They have also been trusted with the Speaker's authority, and will be leading our search and rescue parties."

Her eyes roamed up to the rest of them and Rosalie raised her eyebrows. "The rest of you are support. We will separate you into smaller groups, to better cover the ground. But before we do, each of you must make clear your skills. We'll start at the back and work our way forward."

She raised a hand, at last, to single someone out at the back of the crowd. "Begin."

The training had been blessedly hard. In what seemed like a very short time, they had been taught skill after skill, all meant to keep them alive when they ventured into the forests. Saxen Delaine had no illusions as to the danger they might face, but it never factored in on his decision to remain. At a quick glance, you might even say he looked suited to his new job. He stood tall, one hand resting against the pommel of his new sword, focused on the speakers. His expression was hard, stoic, no emotion allowed through.

Civilians. He cast a brief look around at the people mingled in with the new Swords. Their presence had surprised him and he wondered how well they would fair in the forest. Some seemed so young. Of course, many of the new recruits seemed far too young as well.

Mechthild Schweinsteiger darted openly curious eyes at the volunteers, picking out the faces she half-knew, and the ones that escaped her entirely. Civilians! She was not yet much more than that, with only their brief, urgent training under her belt - but these people hadn't even that. What brave souls they must be! Would she have jumped at the chance for such a dangerous mission, if she had still been working in the fields? To march into the forest and wrest back their missing comrades? Yes, she was certain, eyes shining with conviction, yes, I would. But mama would not have allowed it, naturally.

But she wasn't just a farmer's daughter forking bales of hay anymore, under mama's watchful stare. She was a Sword now. The very thought made her stand taller, tightening her grip around her newly-issued shortsword . Grandpa, I've done it. I've joined the Swords, I have trained with them. I am a Sword now, and my first assignment is to go into the Blackwood. I'll fight in the forest, just like you. Your Mette will make you proud. And it would be an honour, she considered, as she watched the weaponsmith declare his talents with no small degree of admiration, to accomplish that with the valiant party gathered here.

The crowded gathering place made Lytka, used as she was to the quiet of the woods, uneasy. As did, to be honest, the presence of so many damned Swords. Although they were the city's peacekeepers, it seemed like they had been on the wrong side of too many fights lately in her eyes -- but at least this group of them had seen fit to go looking for her fellow hunters who had gone missing. Most of the rest of the city didn't seem to care.

She spotted Ever in the crowd easily and slipped her way amongst the other civilians to stand next to him -- the hunters needed to show solidarity in a time like this, and a familiar face was more than welcome among this rabble. Besides, Ever knew the woods like she did -- which was more than most of the new Swords and brace civilians standing around her could say.

When the Sword in the purple cloak announced that her new Sword recruits would be leading the search parties, Lytka couldn't help but snort disdainfully. "Some of those ones look like they wouldn't know their way around an herb garden, nevermind the Blackwood," she muttered to Ever, her eyes roving over the young Swords in question. "You'll see a mask on my face before you see one of those freshlings ordering me around out in the 'wood."

Still, there was some hope. The purple-cloaked Sword woman seemed capable enough, and there -- she nodded at him approvingly as he stepped forward to speak -- was the blacksmith, Ayle, who was Ever's friend and surely a good man to have at your side during a fight. Perhaps they wouldn't all die after all.

After Ayle finished, Lytka stepped forward to speak. "Lytka Gottschalk, Hunter," she proclaimed proudly. "I know my way around the woods, can make and set my own snares, am a fair hand with a bow and arrow, though by no means a sharpshooter. You won't starve or freeze to death if you're out there with me." It wasn't pride so much as fact -- Lytka had spent a week out in the woods before, and knew how to stay alive.

She still wasn't completely sure why she was there. Oh alright she knew why. Knowing her brother as she did, Kodi Feathergun had fully expected him to volunteer and help in whatever ways possible to find the missing hunters. So she'd done the same herself. Because it allowed her to keep an eye on her brother. And she couldn't just leave those hunters out there if they needed help! What if it had been herself out there? Or Tristan? She'd want someone to try and find her! And she'd definitely do what she could to find her brother if it were him.

Yep. Kodi was here as a good Samaritan offering her assistance. And hoped, really she did, that she would be able to help in some way. True she wasn't a hunter of any kind, or a Sword. But she heard talk. Heard things that people wanted others to hear. And some things they didn't. Rumors could be valuable. And maybe one or two could give clues as to where her group could search for those missing?

Kodi shivered, pulling her coat firmer around her body. Best not to let on that she was just a little scared to be out there. But only a little.

Florian pulled at his cloak: a red cloak, lined with fur. It definitely wasn't his dyed audenheir cloak, but he supposed it would do. It was a cloak that loaned him some sort of purpose, and he felt better for all of that.

Mildly better.

Until the people started speaking: there were weaponsmiths and herbalists and a Hunter in the crowd, and -- well, he knew which end of a sword to use, and that was about that. They'd trained him as best they could on such short notice, of course; they'd given him a sword roughly equal to the one he owned, and a cloak, and now he was here. He smiled broadly, nervously, at the girl next to him, and then shrugged. "At least if someone knows about plants we'll know how to avoid poison oak."

This was delivered with almost perfect nonchalance, despite the nervousness of his smile. Everyone was nervous.

Not everyone. Perhaps Ever should have been nervous, with the purple cloak's imperious finger thrust in his direction, with her impassive green eyes turned on him. More than once he'd caused enough trouble to cool his heels in the little cell they kept for brawlers and drunks when they'd proved themselves unable to handle human interaction -- and that alone should have left them fidgety. Add to that his secret, the spiraling bird above them, the thing that had driven him out into the woods...

Well. All considered, he was stupidly calm, leaning in toward Lytka a little, his eyes bright. Self-satisfied, perhaps, for in his opinion, this was all his doing, the inevitable response to the riot that had been, at its core, his fault. Or so he thought. People always liked to think they were the ones that changed things.

So he smiled back at the sword, pretty thing that she was [or, at least, suited to his tastes] with a mischievous edge to his smile. "I know the woods. The parts you call 'safe'. I hunt better than most. I shoot better still."

A pause. That was probably enough, but with a casual flick of his fingers, he continued. "I know maybe a fourth of the missing hunters."