Valen hadn't exactly been in the brightest of moods from their arrival to Frivale to their meeting with the Major, but a brisk walk through the tent city, seeing the destitution the people had been reduced to only darkened his countenance further. No matter how long it had been since he was here, no matter how hard life had been for him here, no matter how many fell deeds he had committed in the past--this wasn't right.

After they'd entered the surprisingly spacious and comfy cabin-tent, Valen flopped himself down onto one of the couches and brooded. Still, he nodded along with what Flavius and Jarl had to say.

"Yeah. I could use a crystal or a potion, either one's fine. Haven't had much chance to resupply after the war and all, so I uh, I don't have any special protections--or really much more than my sword and the clothes on my back," he said, rather too glumly he realized too late, so he straightened up--even if he still couldn't lighten up.

"But hey, it is an undead slayer, so we'll be fine," he added, patting the blade resting at his side and smiling for the first time.