Alaric couldn't help the slight grin that teased his lips as he felt the presence of four people behind him. His plan was becoming less far-fetched by the second. Korran and Mathis - the spear-wielding Guerdian, occasionally bickered as the group advanced. Still, Alaric thought it could've been much worse.

It had been ten minutes of walking before the group was able to make out the tree line in the distance, and an extra eight minutes before they reached it. There, stationed on the very lip of the edge was the last member of the team.

Usually, Alaric would have qualms about leaving a lone female to guard their horses for a whole day, but this particular female had a friend.

Korran had been in the middle of responding to another jab by Mathis when he caught sight of this friend. Even though Alaric had been watching him, he could scarcely tell where the assassin pulled the two daggers that materialized in the boy's grasp as he crouched down low in a defensive position.

The friend in question snorted, which Alaric took as a sign of his amusement. He still wasn't well versed in deciphering the cues the massive white wolf gave. A petite girl, almost as pale as the wolf, approached from the shrubbery. "Th-there's no need for weapons," she said softly.

Korran's face twisted in confusion, but he made no move to sheath his weapons. The wolf sat on its haunches as the girl patted it and whispered softly in its ears.

Alaric was eager to diffuse the situation. "As you can see, this girl is a-"

"Witch," Korran interrupted, his face morphing into one of disgust. He straightened up then, still refusing to hide his blades from view.

The timid girl's eyes shot up at that, her hazel eyes catching the sun as they flashed with indignant rage. Next to her, the white wolf bristled, a low snarl emanating from his chest. "I am not a witch," the girl said steadily, emotion leaking through her words.

"I was going to say a Pateral," Alaric offered calmly, hoping his tone would lighten the sudden intensity that cracked in the air.

Paterals were humans with special abilities, and this small, timid girl who seemed ready to blow away with a strong gust of wind, was one of the most potent charmers in the nation. Her talent allowed her to foster a young adult wolf, taming him when charmers usually needed to imprint on a pup, especially when the target was something as formidable as a wolf.

"That's what those who benefit from their existence call them," Korran replied, not breaking eye contact with the wolf. "It's nothing but a made up term."

Alaric sighed. "Well, you're about to benefit a whole lot from one's existence."

Korran's eyes widened as realization dawned on his face. "You can't be serious; you've already got a jester with a spear, now you're pairing that with a witch? What happens when her control slips?"

Alaric's brow creased as his patience began to wear thin. He'd been warned about the difficulty of making people get along practically his whole life. Yet, growing up in a city where all types of races resided and his only real foes were political enemies, he couldn't relate to such innate hatred.

"I've handpicked each individual here based on their ability - just as I did you. If you were to give them a chance I'm sure you'd realize they can be dependable," Alaric said, causing Korran's face to darken at the idea.

"What's your problem with Paterals, anyway?" Ardus asked. The giant man had easily hoisted their bundles of tents all the way on his shoulders. As it turned out, he made a good camel substitute.

Alaric had learned that members of the Carusao tribes thought of Paterals as having been blessed by the Gods, hence their abilities; thus they were evidence of the existence of these Gods, so he wasn't surprised to hear defense in the man's tone.

"They fight cowardly and incorrectly. Their style is unnatural - it leaves no space for the skill exchange of battle." Alaric was surprised to hear the passion in the boy's voice.

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"Cowardly," Mathis mocked. "Says the assassin tasked with taking out most people before they realize death is upon them."

"My techniques allow for someone of achievable skill to detect and evade them," Korran responded with a briefly subtle glance at Alaric, "Paterals rely on rare supernatural abilities. If you'd like a demonstration, I'd be happy to humor you - though I suspect your skill is so scant, I'd look like a Pateral myself."

"It's a prejudice of his clan," stated the Kiershan woman Fiona. She had a habit of blending in the background in conversations, but should you remember her presence you'd find her listening intensely to every word. In truth, she reminded Alaric of the many spies that had been caught plotting against his family. "He wears no emblem of the Kalio clan," she continued, "and renounces them with his mouth, yet their values are still ingrained into his being."

Korran's glare turned to the woman. "If that were the case, do you truly believe you'd be able to speak the name of my clan in my presence, Kiershan?" He spat out the last word as if it was an insult.

Alaric didn't need to be a thermometer to sense the temperature rising. Even the birds had stopped their late evening squawking as the gloom of rising conflict drifted upward from powerful individuals. It was upsetting how easily humans could taint nature's skin with their unholy blood over carelessly petty trivialities.

"Enough!" Alaric yelled, channeling the man who had raised him. Leading with a loud voice and heavy hand had hurt his father, drained him - but all too often he'd found it necessary, despite his kind nature and Alaric was unfortunately beginning to understand why. "While we sit here arguing like jobless toddlers our target drifts farther and farther out of reach. We're operating on a strict, precarious schedule and every minute must be purposeful for the stars to bid us well." A slight exaggeration; Alaric had accounted for more delays than he'd experienced, so he was still slightly ahead of his planned schedule - but a needed exaggeration nonetheless.

"So, Korran, if you're so scared of the female Pateral - Petra, and her charge that you must leave, do so while the moon is still marked absent," Alaric finished grimly. He hoped that he hadn't laid it on too thick, because in reality, there was no planned replacement for someone so capable of stealth and power in the same breath.

Korran snorted and said, "Fear of this girl and her domesticated mutt is not the concern. Rather, I've witnessed a witch gone rogue firsthand. What's to happen if this lady meets the same fate?"

Alaric twiddled his thumbs beneath his tattered robe nervously. Truthfully, that had been a cause for worry for him as well. He'd been taught that Paterals fed on their emotion in some way to strengthen their abilities. In some cases where their emotions became too intense, their abilities became too much for the human mind to handle and they went 'rogue'.

Alaric had never personally witnessed this, but they were said to be mindless beings craving destruction.

"That is not my fate," the timid girl said with an air of certainty. Her canine companion seemed to grunt his agreement, his eyes never leaving Korran.

"Well, as long as you're sure," Korran replied sarcastically.

"You shouldn't always expect the worst to happen," Ardus' deep voice boomed sternly. "If you do, it may indeed come through."

Korran wasn't convinced. "Wrong. You should always expect the worst to happen so you can be prepared."

Alaric noted with relief that despite his continued grievances, Korran didn't make a move to leave. "As much as I'd enjoy hearing your continued moral ramblings, we have a job to do gentlemen."

"Aye, that we do," the easygoing Ardus agreed.

The group only needed to walk a couple of feet before they spotted their Morgan horses lined up where they'd left them. Alaric eagerly approached his personal steed. He had to walk past other horses that to an untrained eye seemed identical, but Alaric could recognize his Alpha's beady black, kind eyes anywhere.

He'd named the stallion, which was a birthday gift on his tenth birthday, and he hadn't ridden another horse since. Now, Alpha craned his neck toward Alaric, nuzzling his head into his hand as Alaric caressed him.

"Where to now?" Mathis asked as he mounted his own Morgan. Alaric had handpicked the other horses from the royal stable, so they were well-trained and prepared to cater to even beginner riders.

"Hiedel Harbor, the last known place the Greta Company touched down in," Alaric replied.

"You plan for us to do some snooping around there?" Fiona asked incredulously.

"Not exactly," Alaric replied cryptically as he mounted Alpha. He patted his thick mane before taking the reigns.

He noticed Korran staring hesitantly at the stallion that had been left for him. The others followed Alaric's gaze. Mathis couldn't resist a jab. "Not so tough when face to face with a big bad horse, are we?"

Petra's white wolf made a huffing sound that Korran seemed to take for the canine version of laughter - judging by his scowl. He mounted his horse by leaping on its back, rather than climbing up like a normal person, and for a second Alaric worried that despite the Morgan's good training, he'd throw him off.

Thankfully for the uneasy Korran, the horse stayed docile as he gripped the reins and once again glanced at the wolf. "You know, I've always heard wolf meat is tough and stringy with a repulsive odor and taste alike - but I figure a little seasoning from my twin blades would quell any complaints from my stomach."