Radd

The Golden Road provided the young knight with the time he needed to wrap his head around the situation that he had inherited. In the weeks since he had been announced as Tywin Lannister's bastard son turned Lannister heir he had seen much of how the wealth of the nobles was being squandered and misspent. The royal wedding, tourney, and feast were but some of the prime examples of gold being wasted, but it was his time with the Stormriders and now on the road to Casterly Rock that really opened his eyes.

Knights and nobles feasted on aurochs and swine while the commoners ate rabbits and fowl. It was more cost effective for the peasant farmer to sell his aurochs or swine than for him to keep the meat for his family. It did not help that the lands below the Neck lacked the means of preserving food (though those living along the Wall also failed to realize that simply freezing meat did not mean that it was preserved). Ice was a luxury south of the Neck, and snow almost mythical, something deemed to occur only in the distant north.

Looking at the condition of the land it surprised Radd that the people were even able to grow enough food to sustain themselves. It was not that the land was not rich or capable, but that the tools the farmers used were barely functional. The cost to repair steel or iron tools exceeded the cost of purchasing an auroch for its meat. It was no wonder that the peasants had turned to illegally hunting or that the Stormriders were able to bribe the young boys and girls to enlist in exchange for gold dragons.

Like many of the other nobles, Radd had convinced a handful of participants in the Melee to join his banner. The sheer number of participants in the Queen's Melee had been enough to make the event last an entire day before the Stormrider's Commander eventually bested the Stormrider's Second in Command. Radd himself had performed well, besting over a score of men himself and lasting until the afternoon before exhaustion set in and he was eventually bested by Cid as well.

The Melee had been an opportunity for him to test the men that he had his eye on. Some were individuals who had wanted to join the Stormriders but not the Night's Watch, the rest were hedge knights and sell swords. As he lacked Ramza's charisma and oratory skills Radd knew that he could not simply talk to others to gage their loyalty and conviction – he'd need to observe them to see who they were truly loyal to.

Daenerys

Bright fires filled her dreams as talk of the khalasar's movements filled her days. Limited as she was by her swollen belly, Daenerys was kept apprised of her husband's plans as his army swept through the desert chasing down any remaining Dothraki faction that refused to follow him.

She knew that it was she who had initially set some of his fiercest warriors against him by insisting that the men could no longer rape the women that they captured from the villages, roads, or oasis – it was an affront to their rich and long history yet it was an affront to her as well. That he had been willing to make that compromise for her was a testament to the love they had for each other.

If not for the godswife Khal Drogo might have died from a festering wound he had acquired during the battles with the other rival khals. Due to his fierceness and fortitude he had survived the festering wound and the fevered dreams that had followed the fight with his former subordinate. Upon waking he had told her of his dreams of fire and conquest before he had ridden her hard once again. It was the last time that they had been intimate.

She could not fault him for shying away from intimacy while she bore his child in her belly. The Dothraki way was that a man had no need to ride his wife when she was with child, and though he loved her, he could not help but give in to his desires for flesh.

The clouds of dust in the distance spoke of the khal's return from yet another conquest. Though the issue of the slave women had been overturned, many of the other khals had found that Khal Drogo's approach did not sit well with them. His vow to conquer the lands beyond the sea were off putting as was the fact that he was only doing so to appease his wife. The Seven Kingdoms was a land beyond their reach, something that they need not bother with, yet this young upstart was intent on conquering it.

"The Khal returns," the man once known as the Imp stated.

When the golden haired children and their guardian had been first introduced to her she had wanted to kill them. Had the old godswife not suggested that they test the rumor of his bloodline Daenerys would have let her husband cleave the Imp's head from his shoulders but the idea of seeing the supposed bastard son of her father and uncle's enemy burn had been more tempting. The fact that he had survived the fire unscathed though signified that he truly was her blood and a truer Targaryen than even her late brother. Since then the Imp and Sir Jorah had become invaluable in helping Khal Drogo prepare his men for battling men in armor.

"I wonder how many men he will bring back," the rogue knight pondered aloud.

The Imp shook his head, "We do not look for men, we'll need boys, young boys."

"You still insist on trading boys for men?" the khaleesi asked. Though he did not bring with him chests of gold and silver his keen mind was worth more than any treasure. Unfortunately it was his questionable morals that bothered her.

He nodded. "While destroying everything that stands in our way is effective, it does not help us gather the manpower that we will need if we are to reclaim your throne. Sir Jorah agrees that while valiant and fierce, the Dothraki warriors will not be facing men on just an open field. We'll need others who are capable of laying siege to castles and possibly to defend them."

"So you would have us procure slaves?" she retorted.

She noted the knight's flinch as though he were struck. For a moment she had forgotten that the man had once been accused of dealing in the slave trade which had resulted in him fleeing Westeros.

"Though slavery is shunned upon in the Seven Kingdoms, it is a common fact that many there do practice it," the Imp countered. "They merely call it 'indentured servitude'. But even a legion or two of Unsullied won't be enough."

Sir Jorah nodded in agreement. "We will need a force to help take the Dothraki across the sea as well."

She knew that the Dothraki hated the sea, some even feared it. They were a people used to roaming the open desert, not sailing across the sea. Fierce as their warriors were, they had limits. The elders knew and understood this fact, but not Khal Drogo. His refusal to accept this had driven a wedge between himself and many of the older khals. Some feared his growing power and influence, others the changes that he was ushering in.

A sudden pain in her belly nearly caused her legs to buckle.

"It is time," one of the slave girls exclaimed excitedly, grabbing hold of Daenery's arm before either man could react. For such a slight girl she was surprisingly strong. The girl had only recently been added to the khaleesi's group, though the truth was that she served to warm the khal's bed at night. "Come Khaleesi, the stallion that mounts the world is about to be born."

Daenerys nodded, allowing herself to be led to the tent.

By the time her husband arrived hundreds had gathered around the open tent, each waiting for the birth of the boy who would one day be seated upon the Iron Throne – the stallion that would mount the world. A giant fire illuminated the dark sky, providing warmth to all around.

"The time is now," Mirri stated.

The gentle jingling of bells was all she needed to know that he had nodded his head in agreement. Before she knew what was happening Daenerys was lifted off of the cushions by several of her newly acquired slave girls. Four sets of arms and hands grasped and supported her while another three carried the precious petrified dragon eggs.

Glancing to the side she spied Sir Jorah Mormont being restrained by Khal Drogo's bloodriders, though some of them averted their eyes at the spectacle before them.

"Be at peace," the godswife stated as the wizen women appeared beside the khaleesi. "Khal Drogo has shared with you his prophetic vision and you now dream it too. But for that vision to become reality you must endure. Can you endure?"

The young woman nodded somberly.

"You know what you must do," the maegi stated as she plucked the petrified eggs from the slave girls and handed them to Daenerys.

The slight girl was not afraid of the flames. She had known for a while now that heat and fire could never hurt a true Targaryen - Tyrion had proven that to her. The eggs alone would each be able to buy several legions of Unsullied but if Mirri was right than they were worth more than even that.

Stripped of her clothes and baring the three petrified dragon eggs she stepped towards the flames with only Tyrion to aid her. He was the only family she had left but after tonight they would not be alone. At four and ten years she was already taller than the Imp, though since he had discovered his parentage he had proven himself loyal and capable to her. He was part of her family now.

Ramza

The storms of spring gave way to the howling winds of the south, hinting at the sizzling fieriness of the desert in summer. Despite the shift in weather the squire insisted that his men don their armor while they rode and when they were on watch. Few complained when they were in the mountains of Prince's Pass as the rocky terrain provided raiders with ample cover but under the scorching sun there were a few muttered curses.

It was clear to the experienced squire that Arya was not enjoying the heat of the south much less of the desert, still she did not complain even when others had suggested to her that she abandon her armor. For a girl of ten she was far sturdier than some of the new recruits, and more patient than most of the Dornish riders. Then again, their contingent favored light mail, often using studded leather instead of metal as it was less likely to broil the wearer. Unhindered by their armor their mounts were able to traverse further without being as stressed as the mounts of those from the northern climes.

But that was in comparison to other troops. The Stormriders were not typical. Despite wearing the heavier chain-mail beneath thick cloaks their gear was unusually light. The recruits, most of which had never actually worn armor before, did not know the difference though. Only Brianne of Tarth and Sandor knew, but neither had said a word to anyone other than their superiors.

Still, to maintain the illusion Ramza had slowed the pace and made up for it by having the recruits take on various jobs around the holdfasts that they stopped at or through sparring sessions at night. Some grumbled, though he dealt with that by letting them know that if they had the energy to complain than they had the energy for more work as well as informing them that they still had the choice to leave as they had not taken any vows yet. None of the recruits had left, though they had stopped complaining after the first night. Now they only came to him if they had questions or wished to spar.

Rather than surround himself with the now veteran Stormriders Ramza chose to go into the villages or holdfasts with a pair of recruits and having his lieutenants oversee the other recruits. The visits were a nice respite for the wiry young commander. His fame preceded him as did word of the Stormrider's attempts to bolster their number as well as that of the Night's Watch. Fortunately few recognized him outside of those he was currently traveling with so long as he did not wear the Stormrider's emblem.

"Ramza!" Arya's booming voice called out. Despite her size the girl could be surprisingly loud when she wanted to be. "Lord Oberyn requests an audience with you!"

Around him the sun-kissed villagers turned to him, finally realizing who he was. His fair skin and blond hair were far from the dominant dark locks and sun-kissed skin, but he had been one of a score of youths who had ventured into Sunspear along with Prince Oberyn Martell and his contingent. In the far reaches of the desert word of the Stormriders had arrived but few knew anything of them other than their emblem. The descriptions that he had overheard others provide painted him as a muscular and handsome young man who was nearly a match for Prince Oberyn's beauty. Yet here the real Ramza Snowstorm stood before them. Covered in dust and sweat he was a far cry from the rosy portrait most had painted in their mind's eye.

Finishing the tasks on hand he politely excused himself before turning his attention to Arya.

"Sorry to disturb you," she apologized. Though she traveled with the Stormriders she was not one of them and did not know all of their rules.

"It's alright," he replied as he led her back towards the inn that currently played home to their group of Stormriders.

By his count, all of the Stormriders that had ventured south with the prince had returned from the various jobs that they had undertaken. By dawn they would set off for the west and north as they made their return to King's Landing and then the Wall.

After a quick wipe down of his armor Ramza, Joffrey, and Arya made their way to the Spear Tower. He knew better than to ask if the beautiful prince had said anything. Prince Oberyn's greatest weapons were his golden spear and golden tongue. As brother-in-law to the previous king, he and Dorne had stood against the current king and his alliance. With their lands so far removed from much of the fighting the land itself was fine, but the populace had mourned their lost queen along with the thousands of men who had not returned from the war.

The usual pleasantries were made as a herald announced him to the lords of Sunspear.

It was slightly surprising to actually see the silver-haired and gout ridden head of House Martell seated on the dais as the two Stormriders and Arya Stark entered the chamber. In the week since arriving at Sunspear it had become apparent that Doran Martell rarely held audience with anyone aside from the local lords and his family. Oberyn Martell was the public face but Doran was clearly the one pulling the strings, though with Oberyn it was more akin to pointing him in a particular direction.

With a polite bow of his head, Ranma lead the trio forward, curious as to why Lord Martell would request his presence. "Lord Martell, you wished to see us."

Leaning forward in his cushioned seat, the elder Martell maintained a stony, expressionless façade. "There is something that I would ask of you." Oberyn stepped off the dias and motioned for Ramza to go towards the wooden table. A map of the area was spread wide so that several stone carved figures could be positioned on it. "Ever since the red comet vanished to the east there have been reports of mysterious creatures appearing throughout the land. The local lords initially thought it the work of marauders in disguise and sought to capture the marauders, but thus far none of them has had any success."

Ramza glanced again at the carvings, noting the markings of the various noble houses on several figures.

"Last night we received word from Ser Gerold Dayne that his party of fifty had encountered monstrous beasts on the shores of the Brimstone. Only the Darkstar and Daemon Sand returned; the rest are feared lost. House Uller has ordered his men to return to Hellholt while the lords of Yornwood, Vaith, Skyreach, and Sandstone are doing the same.

"We are mustering our own men and arranging for a ship to depart at nightfall. I would that the Stormriders join us."

He glanced at the nobles, "What did the Darkstar say that the creatures looked like?"

"He said that they had the head of an auroch, the body of a man, but the legs of an auroch," Doran replied. "He also said that the smallest stood taller than a mounted man."

"Did he say how many of them they encountered?" the Stormrider asked.

Doran shook his head.

Glancing at the map he eyed the figures by the Brimstone. "It is still early in the day. My troupe shall depart within the hour."

"Do not be hasty," Doran objected. "You are not accustomed to the desert nor are your numbers sufficient to engage the beasts."

"Too large a troupe would slow us down," the Stormrider countered. "We can reach the Brimstone in three days."

Oberyn stepped forward, "I am to lead the expedition that departs tonight but Obara and Nymeria can accompany you. They know the land better than any Stormrider and would be invaluable to your expedition."

"I am grateful for any assistance you could provide us." With another polite bow, Ramza turned from the table.

Once outside of the castle the trio dashed towards the inn where the Stormriders were housed. He was glad that he had instructed the new recruits to be ready for a sudden departure. Bearing only what they needed they managed to depart before the hour was up. After months of riding and constant training he was now able to comfortably sleep while riding as Brianne and Obara took the lead. Many of the newest recruits also slept, while the remainder kept watch as they traveled.

Stopping only to rest the horses and refill their water after they crossed the river, the group made good time. Even Oberyn's daughters were surprised by the speed of the Stormriders, though they surely noted that the horses' hooves barely touched the water even at the deepest sections of the river. The enchanted horseshoes made the trek go all the faster as the burden that the mounts bore was decreased greatly.

Only after riding for two full days did the Stormriders and their companions stop. The oasis was the largest remaining one between Vaith and the Brimstone, yet there were no signs that it had been frequented in a fortnight. Even the most seasoned Stormriders were tired, and the oasis would provide them with water and some food.

The chill of the desert at night was a stark contrast to the heat of the day. Filling the dragon skull with dried dung and leaves he managed to light it. The eyes remained black suggesting that Marach and Beowulf did not have any messages for him. "I'll take first watch with my squad," he declared. Joffrey was quick to volunteer as were four others. "Brianne, take the second."

"Then I'll take the third," Sandor added as he eyed the remaining troupe.

"Your troupe is efficient," Nymeria commented as she brushed her tired mount. "Father told me that the Stormriders were as quick as a stiff breeze, but I had not expected to see horses running across Greenblood or the Vaith as though they were treading through puddles."

The Dornish woman was perhaps five and twenty. Like her sisters she had not lived a life of luxury despite her fair looks. The bullwhip at her side was her preferred weapon – effective and brutal in a fight but less so in a battle. Like her weapon she was slender, flexible, and lithe, able to approach things from a non-linear, unorthodox means. Ramza was sure that Marach would have been the best suited to dealing with her.

Joffrey quickly climbed atop the tallest tree, claiming it as his perch. The boy was getting better with the bow but he still lacked the strength or the eye to shoot accurately beyond fifty paces. Ramza kept his eyes to the west while the others claimed north, east, and south between them.

"Are you Stormriders all senseless brutes with no manners?" Obara demanded as she approached him. "You might be bastards, the whole lot of you, as are we, but at least we have manners."

Ignoring the blunt, aggressive older sibling, Ramza focused on his troupe. Once he was assured that nothing was amiss he returned his attention to the two Sand Vipers in his midst. "A Stormrider sees to his duties first and foremost," he reprimanded her. "My duty is to see to your safety and to the safety of my troupe."

Obara had not expected his curt reply. She was clearly used to being able to bully those around her. That he was significantly younger than either Sand Viper was also off-putting as she did not like to treat those younger than her with such respect – especially when they had not earned it in her eyes. Slowly a smile formed on her face. "Perhaps I misjudged you."

"You should get some rest, my ladies," he offered them a polite but dismissive bow. "It has been a long ride and I anticipate that the morrow will be just as tiring as the last two."

"Are you always so… so rigid?" Obara asked, her mood once again hinting that it was souring.

"Only when I need to be," he replied with a shrug. "It does not help that I spent the entirety of the last two days in a hard ride. If you wish to speak casually with me, I request that you do so when I am not on watch."

Nymeria placed a hand on her sister's arm, calming the older woman's mood. "You promised my father and uncle that we would reach Hellholt in three days. I had not expected us to come this far in two, but had we pushed on we could have reached it by dawn."

"We do not head to Hellholt," Ramza sighed. "The creatures will not attack a fortified city. They are likely to attack any caravans that they encounter. We should ride to the closest oasis."

Spear in hand, Obara stabbed the point into the sand, "We are here and the Brimstone is here. The closest oasis to us should be up here, half a day's ride north."

Before he could say anything he heard the familiar twang of a released bowstring followed by the low whistle of an arrow shaft as it flew through the air. Immediately he turned to look up at Joffrey's position. The young squire was still learning the troupe's hand signals, but he did not need to say anything other than point to the north.

Rushing to the northern edge of the oasis Ramza eyed the two raw recruits. "Report."

"We saw movement to the north," the dark skinned girl reported. "They're huge. I thought they were aurochs as first but"

"But they stand on two feet," the scarred boy stated.

"I thought they were but a herd being lead to the oasis," the girl added timidly.

Ramza could see the hulking figures slowly approaching. They were a good two hundred paces away but approached cautiously. "Sandor, take your team and have them ready to rush to the either the eastern or western edge of the oasis. Brianne, your team will guard the horses and our guests."

"Are you mad?" Obara interjected. "There are at least twenty of those beasts. Why not pick them off with arrows?"

"Their hides are thick and tough," he explained. "Unless you can stick an arrow in their eye you'll only annoy them."

"You've fought these things before?" Nymeria asked.

"I have," Ramza replied. He wished that some of the original Stormriders were here with him as they had all fought minotaurs before. "Our mounts aren't properly trained and they're exhausted so they won't be of any use to us against the minotaurs. Keep them from bolting."

The bald boy nodded. He was no Gendry but he was capable with a hammer and forge, and he was good with the horses.

Ramza was wary of this encounter. They had come down from King's Landing a score strong, but had added four recruits since arriving in Dorne. The rawest of the potential recruits were all bound for the Wall, but until then they were under his command. The rest of the troupe had all survived a handful of skirmishes with bandits and marauders on their way to Sunspear with Oberyn Martell, but this would be something altogether different. The minotaurs were nothing like humans and they craved human flesh. Twenty of them could have wiped out party of twenty knights and their thirty men at arms, but it was likely that the group was larger than just the twenty. Minotaurs were not unthinking brutes. They had approached from the north and were downwind of the oasis, but their purposefully slow approach was meant to draw the troupe's attention.

"Check your armor and weapons," he instructed the others.

Each was armed with a short, durable sword, a small shield, and durable chainmail armor over boiled leather. It would do little against the longer reach of the minotaurs and their touch hides. Only Brandon went without a shield as he opted for a heavy two handed axe. To their credit none of the youths bolted, though there were many who trembled either with fear or anticipation. Joffrey stood by his side; the most experienced of his squad save for himself.

"Hold the line," he ordered the former prince. Turning to the other he added, "Remember your training – fight as a team."

They were eight against twenty, with perhaps another twenty sneaking around them in an attempt to flank them. Ramza did not like their odds.

Rather than locking shields the Stormriders and the recruits stood several paces apart, giving themselves room to fight without hindering each other.

"What are you doing?" Obara asked as she rushed to join the line. "Are you so craven that you will not draw your sword?"

"Escort the lady back to the oasis," Ramza said as he flexed his fingers in his gloved hand.

"Our esteemed leader is deadlier with his fists than he is with any weapon," Joffrey stated as he turned to the noble woman. "Your presence here would only hinder our battle."

"There are a score of them against eight of you," she pointed out.

"And another score or more moving to outflank us," he countered. "The minotaur are slow, but not this slow. If it had only been a score against fifty, more of the Darkstar's party would have escaped."

"They seek to keep us from escaping," Obara gasped, startled at the surprising intellect behind the beasts.

"I've told the Stormriders what they need to do," Ramza added. "You need to stay and guard the horses. If we fall, take your sister and Arya to Hellholt. Sandor will clear a path for your retreat if necessary. We have no ravens with us, so someone will need to report to the Warden of the South as well as the local lords if we fall."

Despite her stubbornness, Obara did as he directed her. Once he was sure that she would not interfere with his battle plans he turned to face the score of minotaurs that approached. Rather than running into the horde Ramza let out a shout, "We are the Stormriders! We shall never break!"

He could feel his adrenaline pumping as the minotaurs slowed their progress. Behind him the other seven members of his squad also let out shouts, cheers or screams as they mentally prepared themselves for the encounter. In response the minotaurs broke into a charge. It was a fearsome sight to behold.

Many warriors told him of how they often lost themselves in battle, how they focused only on their own, individual fights, but as a commander Ramza knew that he was not allowed such a luxury. He took note of the fact that the Mira, the dark skinned girl who had been on watch, was the first to be impaled by the minotaurs' charge. Even her durable mail failed to save her, but to her credit she fought back, bringing down her sword and stabbing the beast that dealt her a fatal blow through the neck. Its blood sprayed into the air as it fell. Unable to pull herself free of the beast she was able to free her blade. She managed to stab another minotaur in the leg before finally being trampled by a third assailant. All this occurring as Ramza shattered the leg of his first opponent then shattered its skull with a second punch.

A glancing blow rattled him, but he was able to respond with a series of punches that knocked the beast back. An overeager minotaur ran into its companion, startled that the other's charge had been halted by the youth. They sent a ripple through the ranks of the minotaurs, stopping their charge.

All around him, his squad of Stormriders were holding their own. Rather than try to land a single killing blow they waited for their opponents to commit to an attack that left the larger attackers open. Brandon's axe cut down three of the minotaurs, but they had done their damage as well with their powerful fists and hooves. A fierce stomp left Brandon in a pool of his own blood, his lungs and chest crushed by the massive force behind the blow.

Joffrey kept his opponents at bay, stabbing at their hands and legs to keep them off balance as he narrowly avoided their vicious attacks. He too was bruised and coughing blood from the few blows he'd endured, but he was dishing out as well as he received.

"Hold the line!" Ramza shouted again as his opponent moved in to deliver a mighty punch. Slipping under the beast's fist the commander grabbed its wrist and pivoted. The move was similar to the one he'd used on the Mountain during the Hand's Tourney but also allowed him to hide the power behind his next punch as he sent a destructive wave of unseen energy through the ground that knocked a line of minotaurs off their feet. They were confused by the unexpected attack, allowing four of the Stormriders to either regain their bearings or rush in for a killing blow.

It was not enough though as two more recruits fell to innumerable punches and kicks. They were down, but not dead.

"Form up!" he ordered the remains of his squad. The girl Elsa had her arms broken by one attacker while a second slammed his fist into her skull, caving it in and leaving just four members of his squad to fight beside him. Joffrey had his back, while Mora and Serra stood to his side. Focusing on the healing chakra he managed to heal them enough so that they could continue to fight.

A potent punch broke his nose. He responded with an equally mean punch that doubled his opponent over. Joffrey continued to dance around in his space, refusing to run while controlling his area. Serra stabbed a minotaur but allowed another to grab hold of her arm. The savage beast threw her into the air so that its companion could gore her with its wicked horns.

Assailed by three beasts Mora was also grabbed by one of her opponents. In desperation Joffrey stabbed the beast in the side, only to be blindsided by a ferocious kick from another minotaur. Lost in a red haze, the world seemed to spin around him though in truth it was he that was spinning as he delivered a torrent of punches and kicks to the remaining monsters.

Wounded and recognizing defeat, six of the minotaurs turned to run, leaving only the one with Serra on its head and the one that had defeated Mora. Leaping into the air Ramza surprised the beasts with a fierce uppercut to the one burdened by Serra's limp form. The beast stumbled a few steps before falling. The remaining minotaur tripped over its companion as it sought to run, but Joffrey clung to the sword still stuck in its side. Pulling out a dagger he drove it into the creature's leg, severing an artery. A defiant kick from Mora enabled the girl to free herself. Mimicing Joffrey, she began to gouge out the beast's eyes as the pair fell to the earth. The creature was dead before it even hit the sand.

Ramza rushed to the most severely injured even as Joffrey began checking the others in his squad for the severity of their injuries. Having spent so much time fighting Ramza seemed to have a better eye at spotting who were the lost causes and who he could still save. Using the mystic arts that he had learned he managed to revive Serra and Mora. The rest would never see the light of day again.

Sandor and Brianne's squads fared better. Sandor's mighty long sword claimed five of the monsters, and his squad suffered only one loss while the others sustained only minor injuries. Brianne's squad had more injuries, but those were from dealing with the horses as they reared up in fear upon smelling the minotaurs.

"You were right," Sandor said as he cleaned his massive blade "they moved to flank us. They came from the south though, not the east or west. Their scent startled the horses but the boy Brandon did a good job in tying them down so that they wouldn't run off."

"I thought your troupe's losses would have been more severe," Nymeria stated as she keep her eyes on Ramza. "I could have sworn that her arms were mangled" she pointed to Elsa "and his chest crushed" she pointed to one of Sandor's men "but you made them whole again."

"All I did was keep them from dying," he replied. Mentally and emotionally he was exhausted though he knew that his body could keep fighting if he needed to. "The potions are what healed them."

"I have never seen or heard of anything that could do that," Obara added forcefully.

"Clearly you haven't traveled far enough," he said as he turned to assess the remainder of his troupe. "Before today you'd never seen a minotaur much less fought a score of them. There is much more to this world then what you've seen for yourself."