9th Day of Coldeven, 565 CY
About 5 miles east of Highport, The Pomarj

Aslan was impressed.

Nesco had been all business immediately upon their arrival. She had started scouting out their surroundings, and returned after twenty minutes or so, saying they were only about half a mile south of the coast. The ranger then revealed that she had seen a coastal road running east-west along a ridge that paralleled the beach below. Hiding out of sight as a mixed party of humans and orcs came by heading westwards, she had overheard enough to discern that their present position was about six miles east of the city.

Cynewine had then turned her attention towards finding a suitable place to camp. The current terrain was mostly tall grassland and scrubs. There were numerous small patches of fairly dense woodland around, ranging in size from five to a hundred fifty acres. They had started trekking northwards. Aslan had suggested several copses as possible candidates, but Nesco had merely shook her head and motioned him further on.

They had gone about a mile, moving slowly because Nesco was hiding their tracks as much as possible. Soon, she had picked out one particular patch of woods. It seemed the same as any other to the paladin, but Aslan had long ago learned to trust Elrohir's and Argo's expertise in these areas, so he afforded the same courtesy to Nesco. The ranger soon pointed out a rather large thicket, obscured by a tree that had partially fallen by its south side. Pulling out a hatchet from her backpack, Nesco had quickly hollowed out the interior. She then skinned the bark from another fallen tree nearby and lined the interior of the thicket with the bark strips. This gave the shelter added warmth and security but was not visible from outside unless one wandered very close.

While Aslan did what he could to make their habitat semi-comfortable, Nesco had gone out again. She soon came back, lugging a dead deer over her shoulders. "I know we have rations, but I don't like to take anything for granted," she had said. Soon, she had the animal skinned and gutted, laying outside some distance away in a small depression covered by brush. While Aslan built a fire and cooked the deer meat that Nesco gave him, Cynewine finished chopping up her prey and burying the bones. By the time the task was done, dinner was ready, and both of them chose to sit and dine on the fresh kill and save their dried meats, nuts and hardtack for another day.

"The heart is my favorite part," Nesco said, licking her lips and wiping off her fingers with some leaves piled nearby.

Aslan did not reply. For some inexplicable reason, Nesco's comment had made him think of back home. The Brass Dragon. Tadoa. White Lightning. Perlial.

He shrugged off those thoughts. "You've gotten us off to a great start, Lady Cynewine," he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

The ranger shrugged, but did not smile. "Nesco, please. And I'm sure either Argo or Elrohir would have done better. The tales I've heard of your skills are very impressive."

Aslan swallowed the piece of meat he had been working on and grunted. "Don't believe all you hear, Nesco. We're more experienced then some, less so than others, and luckier than most."

Nesco took a pull from her waterskin, and eyed the crackling fire, avoiding the paladin's eyes. She seemed uncomfortable about something, but Aslan couldn't tell what.

"If I might pry, Nesco. Did you volunteer for this mission, or were you assigned?"

The ranger met his gaze and held it, for possibly the first time since they had met.

"I volunteered to be considered for it. My brother Sir Miles had been assigned to the previous expedition..." she trailed off, then looked up at the paladin sharply. "I harbor no foolish hopes. I know that Miles is dead. At best, he might have been captured and sold into slavery. Even if that were the case, our chances of finding him are next to none. I'm here to serve my liege only. I'm just lucky that I can do it in a fashion that I enjoy."

There was a brief silence. "I heard some tales as well, back at the palace," Aslan said. "About your family. A noble one, highly-regarded." It was a statement, but the paladin phrased it as a question.

Nesco frowned. Aslan had thought getting to Nesco to open up might make the young woman more comfortable, but this seemed to be a topic she was not comfortable with. However, she did reply, after a few moments. "We're something of an upstart family in a city of old blood," she said with a grim expression. "Some fifty years ago, my grandfather saved the life of King Belvor III, by capturing a would-be assassin moments before he was prepared to attack. The king knighted my grandfather on the spot and bestowed upon him the new surname of Cynewine. It's Old Oeridian for 'Protector', or so I've been told." Nesco took a half-hearted bite of venison and swallowed. "I won't speak for my family, but the best thing it did for me was to increase my chances of joining the Order of the Hart."

"The Knights of Furyondy?" asked Aslan. "From what I've heard of them, they value skill and valor above all, and care little for bloodlines."

Nesco nodded. "That's mostly true, but don't be fooled. Having the right parents does help, but I don't lose any sleep over that. They never would have picked me to work with them if I couldn't pull my weight. They're good people," she said, her voice growing softer now, her green eyes more distant. "Good people."

"Helps to have good friends, doesn't it?" asked Aslan quietly, with just a touch of a smile.

Nesco returned his gaze, and despite herself, his hint of a smile was soon reflected in her face. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it does." She decided to take a more active role in the conversation. "And what about you, Aslan? If I may pry, and please be assured I mean no slight to Elrohir, why aren't you the leader of your party?"

Aslan frowned. "Why would I be?"

The ranger seemed a little taken aback at this response. "Well," she began. "You are a paladin, after all..."

"Ah," Aslan nodded in satisfaction, then eyed Nesco again. "Tell me Nesco, do you know any other paladins aside from King Belvor?"

She made a sour face. "I'd hardly say I know his Majesty. I see him three or four times a year, on the average. I know of some other paladins in the Order, but not as friends."

Aslan pointed at Nesco. "What I said before goes double for paladins. Don't believe all the tales. We're all too fallible, and we don't have the market cornered on leadership." He took a swig of water. "The situation with Elrohir is somewhat complex. Years ago, we were both more or less co-leaders, but something happened. I had- a personal crises."

Nesco was silent. Aslan slowly began to remove his gauntlets, then burrowed in his backpack for a change of traveler's clothing. His voice, very quiet, was almost lost as he made more noise than Nesco was sure was necessary.

"I- fell from grace. I had to sort things out; decide if I wanted to continue following my calling. In the end, I decided I did, although I had to give up a part of my past to do so." He looked back at Nesco, with that small smile again. "I served no king at the time, so I rechristened myself 'Aslan' and let Elrohir assume the sole leadership role. And as far as I'm concerned, he's flourished in it." Aslan was starting to remove his plate mail now. "When people first look at Elrohir, they notice how handsome and impressive he is. Then, they begin to think that his mind isn't as well-developed as the rest of him. Don't be fooled," the paladin continued. "Elrohir can get flustered sometimes, but he's never failed to come through in the clutch. I'd follow him right into Hell itself and in fact, have done so."

Nesco looked up sharply. She had noticed how Aslan had steered the conversation away from himself (perhaps so Nesco wouldn't ask him what his former name had been), but that last comment was too ripe to ignore. "I do hope you're going to follow through on that remark and tell me the story," she said. "To do otherwise would not be very-"

"Paladin-like?" he interrupted, his smile growing larger. "You'd be surprised with what we can get away, Lady Cynewine. Fear not," he continued, standing up now, his clothing in hand. "I'll tell you the tale, but not tonight. I need to mindrest, and sleep is the best way to do that. If you will excuse me for a moment," he added, heading outside now.

Nesco had a bit more to eat and drink, then cleaned up and tended the fire. She glanced up at the smokehole she had chopped in the roof. A fully dark night would have been best for hiding the column of smoke, but both moons occasionally popped through breaks in the cloud cover above. She'd just have to be extra-vigilant, she reasoned. Soon, Aslan came back dressed in his normal clothing, laid the sections of his plate mail aside and lowered himself down onto his bedroll.

"Tell me Nesco," he inquired. "Who rules the Pomarj? I know little of this area."

"No one does for long," the ranger replied. "Fifty-some years ago, the orcs, goblins and such who were driven out of the Lortmils in the Hateful Wars descended upon the peninsula. Highport was the first major city to fall. After the Mad King Olarek and his army were destroyed by the humanoids, the rest of the cities and towns fell soon after. As to who rules now; orcs, humans, who can say? Authority belongs to a strong sword-arm here."

Aslan seemed to consider this, then rolled over on his side, pulling his blanket over him. "Wake me when it's my turn for watch, Nesco." His voice came muffled from underneath.

In fact, Nesco was planning to stay up for at least eight hours and let Aslan have all the sleep he needed, but she simply said, "I will."

There was silence for almost a minute, and then she heard Aslan's voice again. "I've been told that I snore, Nesco. If that is indeed the case, please rouse me from a distance if possible, and in any rate, not by clamping your hand over my mouth and pinching my nostrils shut."

The ranger's eyes grew wide. "Has that ever actually happened to you?"

There was no response for a moment, and then Aslan pulled the blanket back and rolled over to face Nesco.

The ranger jumped up in shock, a scream lodged in her throat.

Aslan looked like a ghoul. His decayed flesh, purple with decay, stretched tight over his bones, and his sunken eyes gleamed with a horrible yellow light. Long, blood-red fingernails erupted from shriveled hands. The lips peeled away from his gums, revealing sharp teeth and an undead smile.

Just as Nesco drew her sword, it all went away. Aslan was himself again. Breathing hard, Nesco just kept staring at him.

Aslan gave her a wide, although totally human smile, rolled over away from her again, and pulled the blanket back over him. His voice softly drifted back to her.

"Only once."