The first time I met the Citadel Baron, I have to admit I was underwhelmed. My newly found comrades had told me stories of the man, of his heroics and his bravery so I was expecting someone with a noble face, keen eyes and stern demeanor.

When the tavern door burst open with a resounding crash and a loud booming voice cried.

"Rejoice, boys and girls! I'm back!"

I knew all of my expectations were wrong.

Instead of the stalwart warrior I'd been expecting, the Citadel Baron had a wide grin on his unshaven face. His demeanor was more jovial and jolly than cool and collected, not what you would expect from one of the Liberator's chosen.

He joked with people, slapping them on the back and sending them flying from their benches. He laughed hard enough to make the rafters start shaking.

In short he was, loud.

I have to admit he did get along well with people, teasing out gap toothed smiles from even the grimmest of greybeards. But so could a jester.

I was sitting at the corner of the bar, as far away from most people I could manage.

I might have joined the Liberation but let's be honest, what's a scholar to do amidst all these sharp implements except gulp and keep his head down.

I had received a couple of commissions, mostly wills, disposition of property papers and things like that.

I had tried to explain that if we all died and lost, then their heirs inherited nothing, except being branded traitor's bastards and the king claiming all of their property.

But my cynicism fell on deaf ears. Perhaps it's better that way.

My ruminations were interrupted by a loud cry from the Baron who was propped up against the bar, vambraces leaning against the worn wood.

"Shaeth! Open the shutter will you! It's hotter than Daemon's Balls in here."

"You're still wearing your armor, you damned fool! That's why you're hot. Take it off before you try and command me!" Shaeth replied acidly.

"A real Mann doesn't feel right without his armor!" The Baron protested. "It's like asking a conifer to take off its scales. Impossible!"

Shaeth shook his head while I sniggered a bit.

I knew I shouldn't have but the bluster was a bit much.

"Oh and who's this?" The Baron said, his gaze on me. I did wilt a tiny bit, for all that boisterousness there burned fire in his eyes.

"Scribe," Shaeth said off handedly.

"Oh so we have a scribe now? Well met!" He said extending a hand. I took it and felt my bones grind as he shook it.

"Tell me, sir scribe can you fight?"

"Not really," I replied.

"Then you must learn! No mann can call himself a mann if he doesn't fight!"

"Leave off him,he's still greener than piss" Shateth interjected. He picked up a mug and started wiping. "Forgot to mention, his grace has a message for you."

"Well, what is it?" The Baron said slapping the bar with his fist.

"Don't do stupid shit! You're causing too much of a fuss, raising too much attention. Those taxmen last week? That was unnecessary."

"Too right I am! We need to fight! The commoners need hope."

"His grace says they'll get it, but we need to be quiet. Careful. Otherwise chop." Shaeth mimed a blow to the back of the neck. "No more liberation."

"Then we'll die gloriously, our fates written in song! We'll be remembered forever! There's no better fate for a man."

I listened patiently to the exchange then added. "We'll I'd rather die an old man in my bed with fat grandchildren."

A few keen eared patrons had a laugh at that and one loud mouth added. "I'd rather die having a whore suck my..." His companion quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. When his companion was about to punch him he pointed to the door.

A quick hush settled over the tavern like a summer shower and it took me a while to realize why.

In the still open doorway there stood a man, his stance spoke of command and grace and as he took his first steps into the Shady Pig it was as if the men transformed.

One and all, they sat straighter, their eyes clearer; as if a fire had been lit from within.

For the first time I actually felt that they might one day be an army, not just a band of scoundrels.

Raziel the Liberator took it all in stride, nodding to a few of the patrons and as he walked past the bar he said to the Baron.

"Come."

That was all, a single word and the boisterous baron went silent, his face turning grave.

"Yes, your grace."

I could only sit there in silence as I watched them leave for the backroom, staring after them in wonder and silence.

It was not the first time I'd asked myself what kind of man I was serving now.

But it was the first time I felt like we might win.