His clothes were drenched with sweat go the point they had glued to his skin. Though he had not taken a close look, he could tell the warm region had blood oozing whereas the cold was due to sweat. Saer regretted for not bringing the horse with him. Now, he had to go all the way back and explain the reason for his condition to get back his horse. Worsening the situation, Saer still hadn’t come with a believable excuse. He just hoped the stableman wouldn’t be judgmental over his state. Maybe he has already gone to Vorr. Saer ran, sometimes twisting his head behind to check if he was being followed by Rudolph or Rikilda. There were no signs of them coming behind him, but he didn’t slow down. He raced. Many times, he lost his balance and tasted mud. His falls also drew blood from his already bruised skin. He got distressed since his body has gone numb. The sensation did not let him loose, even when he reached halfway to the stable. By then, wind had dried his shit, leaving blood spots and mud scuffs visible. He presumed he looked like a robbed man, so he took it as his temporary identity. Saer was thinking of a story when he saw a horseman coming in his direction. It took some time for him to comprehend it was his horse. Enraged, he ran to the tottering horse while yelling. But neither the horse obeyed nor the man. The horseman took his time and when he reached near Saer, he stopped the horse. "This is my horse." Saer bellowed, "I had told you to look after it. Not steal it!" "Pardon." Man said, "I presumed this horse belongs to Doctor Eryne." "You…." Saer pointed at him, noticing he wasn’t the stableman. "Yes." Uzmaen pulled a small crossbow. Instead of an arrow, there was a spherical ball no bigger than a pebble. "Well, you can take the horse." Saer said. "So sorry that it is not of my interest." Uzmaen grinned. "Look." Saer showed him his empty pockets, "I don’t have any coins –" "You are an assassin, aren’t you?" "No-" Uzmaen loosened the rope and Saer tripped over. Saer's feet had been tied together by a strong fabric. He tried to untie it but couldn’t. Hopeless, he glared at Uzmaen, who happened to be holding a different crossbow. "This one has an arrow in it, so be honest." said Uzmaen. Saer overheard him still attempting to make his way out. "What can I expect from your type?" Uzmaen kicked the saddle. The horse galloped, dragging Saer along. Uzmaen turned back at him from the pacing horse, "Maybe we can talk a bit till we arrive at our destination."