Emeric blinked, barely registering Cuthred's blow to the leader as he kneeled to the ground, holding his eyes in raw terror. Tristan ended the man's misery quickly, sending an arrow shaft into the man and finally quelling the sounds of battle. The young Velian looked around, searching for his next foe, but their surroundings were quiet. Under control. Walking over to his horse, he patted its side reassuringly and the mount seemed a bit better for it, shaking off the adrenalin that had come watching the men clash. Emeric bound his long-axe to his horse, then stepped towards the house, contemplating the damage. If this was a dragon's work, it was but a wyrmling. He knew Rikard had had the right intuition about these people, but he did not yet see what had prompted him.
As the warrior turned the corner, he stopped in his tracks. There they were, both Tristan and Rikard, watching over two motionless shapes on the ground. One was a woman, fair-skinned but pale as death. The other one was obviously part of the band they had just subdued. His mind pieced the information together, and as the situation grew clearer, the mask on his face grew grim. His chest heaved with each breath with barely controlled anger. "You are too kind to even ask to capture these men, Rikard, they would serve everyone better in death." he growled, stepping away and making his way to the remaining bandit. Grabbing him roughly and pulling him off the ground so the man would look into his icy blue eyes, Emeric barked: "Who are you? Where do you come from? What happened here? Answer me!"