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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
((OOC: As Standard took a long, unannounced siesta again, I am confiscating some chars again in order to make the story proceed further once more.))

The bare longsword in his hand dribbled crimson onto the wooden floorboards of the inn. The floorboards were polished things, trying to withstand the subtle pressure of the blood which was attempting to seep within and stain it. It seemed so silent now once the innkeeper had stopped shouting. The cracking of the wood burning on the hearth and the blood splattering slowly from the tip of his sword. Rayond was neither filled with bloodlust or anger. It was a simple, calculated coldness. Oryn had refused to do his duty and had paid for it with his life. He now simply looked at Dayton, his mud colored eyes vacant of all emotion reading the surprise in the other knight's dark brown orbs. Would he strike or would he relent and acquiesce?

Dayton, while not the most intelligent man, knew dangerous situations and could read them easily. It took both Leraway and himself to subdue Brown with a sword in the mad man's hand. With both Brown and Leraway against him, he knew that he was sorely out-numbered. He glanced away from Leraway's stare to see Oryn's severed head staring up at him, the vacant eyes rolled upwards in surprise, his jaw hanging loosely open now before rigor mortis would set in. Dayton licked his lips nervously as his eyes darted back towards the armed knight. I am with you, Leraway.

The man nodded in response and turned his icy gaze back to the innkeeper who was still menacing him with a crossbow. It is over now. There will be no more fighting. I will have my squires toss the dead meat out of your inn and polish your floor in recompense for the necessary bloodshed. You have my apologies. The way Rayond said it left little in the way of a true apology. It was a thing said out of habit to smooth ruffled feathers. He tossed some coins on the counter from his money purse with a careless flick of his wrist before turning to the cowering boy. Nev, my sword. Attend to it.

The young boy shivered as he got up from his stool by the bar and walked cautiously around Sir Oryn's corpse on the floor. The smell of it was already overpowering. That, and the fear of Brown standing unshackled so near, was making him shake. Y...yessir... He gulped and took the sword from Leraway's hand tentatively and went to find a cloth from his pack to polish the blood away.

The cold man then glanced to Dayton. Well...?

Dayton startled and then jerked to awareness. His eyes took in the squires all nearby. You and you! He pointed at Remmy and Ulis. Take the body out. And you! He jabbed his finger at Jarreth. You'll mop up the floor. Got it? Make it quick, ye hear, or you'll earn the flat of my blade on your backsides!

The bark of Dayton's voice and threat had Remmy stumbling to his feet, consciously and painfully aware of Brown, the vicious dog standing so nearby and unchained. The world was crumbling into something that made absolutely no sense. How could Sir Leraway be working with Brown after all they had gone through to catch him in the first place?! None of it made sense and... Sir Oryn was dead on the floor! To leave him out for the beasts... What sort of monsters had they become? The older boy went to the corpse's feet and began to tug on his boots in order to see if he could drag it free. It scarred his heart with its horror, but there was little he could do or say against it. He was not strong enough to rally men against Leraway, Brown, or Dayton... He could hear Nev's sniffles and knew that the boy was going to cry.
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Frostbitten · Hiskarin Mountains

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