She tease him, chided him for his dour way, and if his flesh could express it as well as his fair-skinned counterpart, he would've blushed from the experience. Rhiannon seemed almost put down by his last words to her, and Rhelin let that be for the time being. He kept pace with her on their way to the rallying area.

Something about the woman didn't sit quite right with Rhelin. It wasn't a bad thing all together, not knowing what she had hidden. It wasn't wholly good either, though. It was like a luke-warm cup of water, not entirely enjoyed but still refreshing.

The group of watchmen that gather under an ancient, sprawling oak tree represented all of the races that could be scrounged up in Concordia. Humans, elf-folk, cross-breeds and even some bestial races stood to the call to arms for the sake of Underwood, whether it was for home, glory, or gold was irrelevant at the moment.

The Officer of the guard handed the Sergeant of the same a rolled up parchment containing the districts that were to be patrolled throughout the day, it changed often in order to spoil the chances for subterfuge. It would be much harder to plan an ambush, or a raid, if watchmen couldn't be counted on to be somewhere conveniently out of the way at any given time. In spite of all that forethought, the task of assigning the soldiers to their duties was arbitrary at best, which would work out to Rhelin's advantage it would turn out.

No one would be a lone, with the dangers that inherently came with being town watchmen ever present, along with the added possibilities of war approaching Underwood, teams of two was the rule. The Sergeant of the Guard went down the rank and file, eventually squaring on both Rhelin and Rhiannon.

"You two!" He bellowed, the bass in his voice the product of years of yelling at fowled-up soldiers.

"Rhelin and Rhiannon, Sergeant!" Rhelin snapped to.

"Your names don' matter, troop." He said, even as he penned down their names to the parchment.

"You and her have the warehouse district, there will be a couple of other patrols in that area, so if you have issues, just...shout," he grinned. "Your shift don't end 'til the crier sounds off nine O' clock. Now go."

Rhelin's heart sank at those orders. He knew this job wouldn't be glamorous, he understood that to be sure. After all, what was glamorous these days? Still though, the idea of guarding crates and bushels had no appeal to him in the slightest. However, he would still make the best of it, his mood seemed to lift in the face of a twelve-hour shift. In the right company it would go by quickly.

He flashed Rhiannon a spirited smile, giving an exaggerated smile. "After you, M'lady! Wood and grain need protecting!"