From his point of view, it looked as if Briaz was thriving. At least more so than what he remembered from when he first stepped foot into the small harbor town.

Two years after the final Rebellion and the return of the Araluen forces, the Kingdom was finally getting back on its feet. Briaz, a former small harbor town, now handled a population larger than some fiefs in their entirety. Castle Araluen was no longer the capital due to the damage the Ghosts wrecked, and Castle Redmont took over that job. At least, as far as he knew. It could be that they'll eventually move back to Castle Araluen after repairs are done, but as of the moment, no one lived or worked there.

Something other than prosperity drew people to Briaz. The town itself had little crime. That wasn't because of strict laws, or many guards, but moreover the result of a lone survivor of the war. Of the Rebellion. Apparently, it wasn't the fact that the person was especially scary, but actually from the fact that he charmed many people. If people weren't charmed, however, then they probably got scared.

Grinning at that thought, the visitor turned towards what he knew to be the former base of the main Resistance. No others seemed to realize what that small house had done for that country, because, as he could see it, a young couple had rented it out. Where was he then?

The visitor spun in a circle in the middle of the lane, his hood partially blocking things from his sight. It was habit to wear it, however, and it didn't occur to him to take it off.

"Excuse me," he held out a hand to a passing woman, carrying a basket filled to the brim with bread and fruits. "A friend of mine lives in the town, but he must have moved since I last saw him," he started. The woman smiled politely at him, and waited for him to finish, "He used to live in this house here, and from what I know, he seems to act like a peace-keeper for this area. He's a former Ranger, and—"

"Oh! You mean Mr. Treaty?" Her smile widened as she realized who the visitor was speaking of, and grew larger as he nodded in response. "You're right to say that he used to live in that house there. But since the Rebellion, he moved out to the small hunting cabin outside the town limits . . ."

After getting directions from the lady, he nodded his thanks, and went on his way. He still wasn't that good with directions, and the town was confusing to newbies. Even when he had been in the town, he hadn't wandered that much. Only the basics were shown to him. When he got to the cabin, however, he hesitated approaching the door. Would he be mad? It had been two years, and he probably wasn't happy to have been 'forgotten' . . .

Just before he was about to knock, the door flung open, and a disheveled Will Treaty stood in the doorway. He no longer wore the jacket made from his ripped Ranger cloak, but just a normal jacket. A normal shirt. It was refreshing to see him like that, but the face is what broke him. The dark circles were still there. A confused but upset frown creased his face, underneath darkly circled eyes. He hadn't shaved in a few days, which usually meant that he hadn't been in the best mood, but his hair was thrown into a messy ponytail behind his head, proving that he was in some sort of 'I-think-I-might-need-help-to-manage-this-day' kind of mood.

They stood there, staring at each other for a few minutes.

Will spoke first. "Well, Eli, 'bout time you showed back up. Horace thought you died or some crap. Want some lunch?"