"Not if we don't catch him."
The swordsman found a line of tethered steeds near the supplies, and the two warriors were skirting the battle on horseback just as the samurai army showed up to help the blue-coat rebels. Though their mark had made some distance, the general still smudged the green horizon. It wasn't until a few minutes later that the smuggler realized what he had done, and his off hand immediately found the dagger at his belt. That immortal asshole was even twisting his words now. That nearly drove a bellow of frustration from the marked man, but the raised eyebrow of the samurai next to him smoothed his grimace. His hand still strained to draw his plynt dagger, and plunge it into the shorter man's neck, but the blade remained stuck. As soon as this curse was lifted, he was going to kill every single person he could find in this damn country; starting with those priests at Yanbo.
They will beg for you to stop me, Am'aleh.
Though he had ridden like a natural when being compelled, once the wanderer actually thought to the fact he was on horseback he regretted it. The ride became a painful series of jarring slams onto the back of the poor beast. He found a middle-ground eventually, but neither steed nor rider enjoyed the trip. The short samurai held his tongue, though his glances spoke enough. The half-elf's desire to murder the man rose, but he didn't bother reaching for his knife again. It seemed that as long as he bore the strange mark on his hand, he wouldn't be able to cross the Thayne's will. He imagined all the fun he would have once he delivered the artifact, and the mark disappeared. They would put a bounty on him for sure, and his grin spread embarrassingly wide at the thought. His companion finally got curious, and asked after his purpose in Yanbo.
"Made a deal with a hobo, so now I have to take this box to some priests."
Such an answer begged the question, so the wanderer recited the story of escorting the cat-folk into the mountains. He left out the cats and rangers dead at his hands, instead explaining how the group had entrusted the artifact to him when the magical hobo gave them their goal. The disbelief on the samurai’s face was understandable, but the tale the man wove, of a false cat-people army in a plot of seize Akashima, pulled the smuggler’s face flat. That would explain the lack of furred bastards, and his teeth gritted to be found twice the fool.
The immortal asshole was undoubtedly chortling in some high tower; but the mortal man tried to focus on their mark. Despite his aversion to anything the Thayne would want him to do, it was easy to slip back into the scout mindset, and forget his anger for a time. The general and his retinue made steady progress over the horizon for a while, before his companion mentioned losing sight of them. He assured the man that he could still spy them, though the half-elf didn't elaborate. The samurai seemed unsure, but he thanked the swordsman for his help tracking the general, and defending the capital city of Akashima earlier. The smuggler became annoyed just thinking back to it, and delivered a stinging barb to match his ire.
"Am'aleh wills it."
Godamnit, you Thayne prick. Every priest; I f’kin’ swear it.
The confused nod of his companion led into more silent riding, during which the swordsman thought of many more curses to hurl at the lofty bastard. He didn't bother speaking again, since he couldn't trust his own tongue. The group they chased stayed just on the edge of the horizon for most of their quiet ride south. He informed his companion when their targets brought their beasts down to a trot to give them a break, and the two warriors did the same. They did this a few more times on the journey, but after several hours of riding south the two spotted a squatting city just on the edge of flickering blue. The port of Yanbo wasn't nearly as impressive as the capitol, but it still sported a decent navy. Those ships spread out across the harbor in defense of the city, and further out the fleet of the allied Corone forces formed an impressive blockade. The speck on the horizon began drifting to the side, and the smuggler mentioned it without thinking.
"That guy we're chasing is veering off the road towards the coast."