That might have been Nolan's natural charisma working off on him. The boy seemed to know far more than he let on. There was a mystery to him that the raiders lacked. Nolan seemed the sort to be quite at home with the nobility of the castle. They wouldn't have taken a second glance at him if he'd walked into their armour shop, and spoken as he normally did. He was the very sort of clientele that the high class people wished to attract. Maybe that was important.
Vol left the town, thinking his thoughts, strolling the lengths of winding Craghill streets, many of them cleared of snow, passing by more people than he ever would have expected elsewhere at this time of day, and more than a few guards too. The guards gawked as they looked at him, carrying all his weapons – but they didn't carry that same hostility that they had directed his way earlier. Not like when he was wearing his raider's furs, stained in blood. They seemed to mark him as a normal sort.
