Adasse's dark eyes narrowed on the spy, spitting out blood and nothing else under Teren's careful knife, before he let his gaze shift back to Herian. He nodded once, eying the clothing he was wearing now.

"I'll go get back into the rags. Poor elven farmer is pretty general, should get me through whatever guards they might have posted."

He stood up, stretching his lanky form, his gaze moving from Herian, over to Flint, then back to Jester. "Do I need to steal anything to make it official? Seal, right kind of paper, that sort of thing?"