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"Yes. We leave? Now?" says the druid.

He picks up his bearskin cloak and dons it. "I am ready now." After a pause, he looks across to the other pair and adds, "I shall say farewells. Please wait."

In common to his friends:
"Look alive, we are moving out to the gate. The guards are supposed to have horses and rations for us."

Isaril returns from talking with the proprietor and Dick.
He follows Vic.

You mean rations and more rations when the first run out. Unbar continues to grumble but quieter Bloody stupid animals.

"Oh, you'll love those rations when the first ones run out! The way you and Val eat, we might eat a weeks worth in a day anyway!"

Unless someone stops them Vic will turn to leave, and head to the guard post for the appointed meeting.

No one from the Copper Cup impedes the group's progress.

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Is there anything anyone want to do before meeting up with the patrol?

Val is good.

Let's giver.

If there is any piece of toast left Val will feed in pet mouse.

Sure.

Val feeds his mouse on the way to South Gate. It squeaks back at him.
Isaril gawks at the four and sometimes five story buildings and the urgent street bustle that parts and flows around the four adventurers.

Arriving at the gatehouse it's apparent that a patrol of eight City Guard are ready to depart. One of them beckons the four into the left hand tower. He hands out four anonymous hooded grey cloaks, as worn by the rest of the patrol. "Put these on. Mount your horses and ride with us. Your four are in the middle. We have four front and rear. Provisions and so on are in the saddlebags. Don't check them until we've left the city walls behind. The big horse is yours." He looks at the Goliath.

The big horse's broad shoulders are about level with Valdimir's. It has enormously wide feet.

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Nature skill check DC11 to recognise the horse as Percheron.

Val takes the hood puts it on and gets on the back of the horse.