The stone bowl was basked in light, torches had flickered to life in the dark. The men around the bowl's lip stood menacingly, gripping their weapons tightly, Gregor could see crossbows and medieval looking firearms among the swords and halberds. Gregor knew very little about those weapons, Regalia's army used neither, but what he'd seen in movies during his time in the Overland didn't encourage him.

One soldier, a young man barely out of his teens, began to reach for the long bow that he carried across his back, but a nearby Ripred slapped his hand aside with his tail, "Don't", the rat hissed, "you shoot once, we're all dead before your arrow finds it's mark".

Gregor was at that moment struggling to figure out a plan. Surrounded by armed enemies, unable to attack, forced to throw down his arms or face death, it was like something out of a badly written book...

Their captors were now raising their weapons, picking their targets, preparing to fire at heads, hearts, anywhere where a single musket ball, arrow or crossbow bolt could cause an instant death. It took them precious time to take aim. That time was what saved the group.

Out of the blue, one of the men, this one somewhere behind Gregor, shouted "Sir, isn't that captain Ronan there with the interlopers?"

Another, this one over to the left, piped in "And that looks like Blacktip over there by the corpses, I thought she was one, she's so still".

The leader, in his position directly in front of Gregor, paused, then shouted, "Lower your weapons!". The men gathered around the lip of the depression complied quickly, strapping weapons to their backs, sliding them into scabbards and hanging them from belt loops, before clambering down the rough stone walls.

The commander arrived at the group first, pulling off his odd, feathered mask as he approached. His features were almost reassuringly familiar to Gregor, he'd never met the man before, but with his silvery hair, translucent skin, noble bearing, and even that arrogant tilt of the chin seemed reassuringly Regalian, almost like Luxa when he had first met her.

The maen under his command also peeled off their helmets, masks and cloaks, revealing a roughly even mix of men and woman sharing the features of the Regalian seeming leader, and those who with the dull coppery colour of Ronan's hair.

The leader stepped forward ana addressed Ronan, "Captain, who are these people, what are they doing here, why are you with them and kindly explain to me what the hell happened to my god-damn outpost!"

Ronan stood bolt upright, seemingly at attention, and seemed very apprehensive. "My prince", he began, "this is an expedition into our territory from the old lands, this" he said, indicating Gregor, "Is King Gregor of Regalia".

The prince suddenly went even paler, the men around them stiffened and began to place hands on their weapons,. Gregor began to worry, they didn't appear to be out of the woods yet.

The platinum haired royal composed himself, and then said, slowly and deliberately, "And what about the outpost?"

"My liege", Ronan answered, "after we encountered their caravan, Blacktip pounced on one of their forward guards thinking he was one of John's men, we decided to bring them to Haven, so the King could speak to their leader. We stopped to rest after a while, but almost immediately, we heard a call from Halftooth for help, warning of the fiach dubh, but by the time we arrived, they had already been and gone".

"Very well", said the prince, "I believe you had a good idea in taking them to my father, we must continue on to Haven anyway, we have seen a lot of enemy activity, both from John's faction, and from the fiach dubh, both Haven's council and my father at Carraig Dubh will want to know of this, it shall likely influence their future decisions, and they shall want to meet with King Gregor here".

Gregor stood baffled by most of that conversation, as well as by the oddity of this situation. He was in the middle of, surrounded by soldiers, enemies that no one would identify, and he was being completely ignored.

"Hold on", he said, interrupting Ronan's beginning of a reply, "can someone please explain to me what's going on? Who are the fiach dubh, and who is John? What is Haven, and who the hell are you people?!"

"My apologies my liege," the prince said, loading the honorific with as much scorn as he could muster. "I am Prince Matthew, of the house of Sandwich. I command the fortress at Haven, and happily and honourably serve my father, King Christopher the fourth of Craig Dubh". He paused for an instant to inhale before he continued, "You are currently on my father's land, my liege and so, in light of that fact, I shall be taking you into my custody, so that my father can judge your fate for himself", he smiled a slightly familiar half-smile, that was far from familiarly reassuring, more rat-like.

"And how do you intend to do that?" Ripred broke in, "You forfeited your tactical advantage, you're too close to us", Ripred's smile was also rat-like, his with good reason, "If you attack, we can fight and win against you".

Matthew chuckled, "You think this is all of my force". He let out a low, long whistle.

Three dozen soldiers appeared at the crater's lip, again armed with ranged weapons, training their weapons on the Regalians.

"Ah", said Ripred, "That's how..."