Comte Olivier d'Athos de la Fere

Porthos stops so he can lean back, pressing part of his leathers between his teeth so he can examine the map, tapping the area. "Here," he says, past the fabric. "That's the mark," he says, craning his neck up to study the area around them, heading towards the medicine building that's off to the side. "Well?" he coaxes. "Someone said something about a fire, didn't they?"