The manor of Ravus is a strange wonderland amid a territory long claimed by thieves. It was like something straight out of a fable that came to life. One of the former great families, Ravus had fallen into hard times as a result of the family heads dying in rapid succession, with no good subsequent leadership. The house name recently fell onto the shoulders of the sole heir of the late Lord Ravus, but few outside the know really knew any details. By then, the Ravus family was not a vogue topic either. The feudal system of the houses had collapsed following the wars that claimed Gerster. Others, like Azelhart, were eliminated supposedly prematurely by rivals. Ravus and Ciaran were two such houses that escaped destruction, albeit with the price of much of their former glory and lands. They came to fade into the background as society moved on.
Secluded away now in their final and original birthplace, the Ravus family had a brief civil war period over the succession of Lord Ravus. There were rumored treasures that remained unclaimed until a proper heir-ship was established. Like the rich families they were, Ravus relatives suddenly popped out of the woodwork. Far-flung cousins and lost aunts and uncles appeared, eager to lay stake on the claim. Such an old and illustrious family would have plenty, even for vultures to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. Amid the turbulence, relatives were said to have been assassinated. Those who survived the ordeal ended up disowning their now defunct and tarnished name, leaving just the reclusive heir who lives within the manor in the Cliftlands.
While the wealth of the former great house is obviously diminished, there are still stories about what lay within its deepest vaults. Even if the other estates were depleted, the central Ravus Manor of Bolderfall remains supposedly impregnable. Following the civil war and settling of the dust, this reputation has only increased. Several thieves have been flogged and displayed out of humiliation for having been caught trying to rob the house. Following the civil disputes, and now the eerie fortress the manor had become, there is a shroud of mystery that would inspire novels.
Despite all the hubbub and mystique, the manor itself looks rather inconspicuously innocent. Its size is so grand that a single person living in there is rarely noticed. Every now and then, a passerby remarks on the shadow of the owner by the window of the third or second floor... but no one knows the enigmatic Ravus who now dwells there, in a house no doubt rigged with traps. Whether the remaining heir is male or female, frail or strong… none could say. All that can be said was that either a massive amount of luck was behind them… or they had a hell of an armed force that bumped off any other interested in the fortune. Those who might reveal who the heir was have since fled or been knocked dead in the course of the family civil war. After the dust settled, only the manor remains, and whatever else that lies within its iron clutches.
They say that wealth and power isolate the ones at the top. The manor and legacy of the once-great Ravuses are proof of this in stories. The estate merely looms atop the wealthy portion of the mountain top in Bolderfall, the last of its kind. Other nobles and aristocrats in the area fled following the collapse of wealth and central authority in the area, all too sure of the inevitable chaos to come. However, the Ravuses stayed. While the exact reason is unclear, the stories go saying that there is a treasure which cannot be moved within the manor.
The treasure, some say, is an ancient relic of sorts. Exactly what is meant by that is up to the storyteller. There are rumors that it is merely treasure, being a vault of precious statues, gold, gems, and the usual haul of loot, enough to buy the town three times over. Others mention an old weapon that could grant great power to the wielder. These vague accounts tease and tickle the desires of thieves vying to prove their worth in a city as overrun as Bolderfall. Over time, as attempts to steal it have failed, the stream of eager thieves ebbed and flowed. The manor sometimes has actual guards hired outside of it, making them the only signs of life on the manor grounds to outsiders.
Sure enough, following the collapse of the Ravus house, much of the Cliftlands fell into hard times. Unlike the Flatlands or Frostlands, having central authorities, the Cliftlands lacked any effective administration to deal with the financial difficulties that came with the void left by the Ravuses and the bygone nobility. Guards became nonexistent, with many turning over to mercenary work or becoming bandits themselves with no steady income.
Unlike the Woodlands, the Cliftlands lacked natural resources that were easily accessible to provide for people as well. The canyons of the Cliftlands are a sight, but they cannot fill the empty bellies of children. While there are minerals, only rich tycoons could afford the manpower to fully extract and exploit the earth's riches. They often employ the hobos and drifters who were now in dire need of work to support their families. None of the true profits are captured by them, of course. Wild animals in the Cliftlands were often more feral or poor to eat compared to fattened game in the Riverlands. All this made for poor living for years to come.
And therefore, thievery flourished. It was the only way a person could get ahead or even stay afloat. The system wasn't working. You hear stories of husbands and children who leave their houses and never return. The Cliftlands hemorrhages people yearly. But the thieves revel in it.
Bolderfall in particular is considered the thieves' paradise. As the Ravuses are utterly reclusive within the confines of the manor at the mountaintop, the thieves run the town everywhere else. But even the thieves eventually saw fit to settle down. Authority figures like Marta led efforts to make it a more equitable place where they could feasibly live. These plans succeeded, and the gang now had a town of their own, virtually. They conducted themselves as Bolderfall's municipal workers on the side, and this kept them afloat. Bolderfall is, surprisingly, now one of the more stable towns in the Cliftlands.
Therion never cared about any of that. After Darius threw him aside literally, he ended up in Bolderfall as another petty thief. He got caught almost immediately trying to pick the pockets of a fellow thief. The thief dragged him before the gang. Marta was the one who saw something in the ragged punk and offered him the chance to join. Therion scoffed at the idea, but even he had to face reality. Darius was gone. Alone, Therion would have to become the best of the best. Maybe then he could stem that yearning whenever he thought of that red-maned traitor…
Under the tutelage of Marta's gang, Therion's repertoire and expertise as a thief swelled. The thieves were much better than anyone he knew back in his hometown. He learned a lot and eventually came to surpass some of his masters. They ambushed caravans and merchants, slipping a furtive hand for the purses and coming out with leaves to spare.
But a thief is only defined in reputation by what he has stolen. A few purses and shipments are hardly worth boasting about. What you need are things of name.
That's when the pride came in. The desire to prove himself pushed him to go look for bigger, grander targets. Instead of working with others, who had come to slow him down anyway, he began to undertake tasks himself that would normally require more members. He accomplished them so no one could say a thing. Eventually, he seemed to drift away from the gang entirely. Sure, he drank now and then in the thieves' pub… but they merely scowled at his standoffish attitude, as he never socialized with them. Rather, he was just using them to get better himself. Now that he was confident, he no longer needed them.
As a master thief, he was feared by the rich who passed the rugged lands. His reputation preceded him, as few knew how he looked from rumors. Even among thieves, he was a subject of gossip and grudging admiration. Bigger prey drew him to other places as his skills polished themselves... and his pride did swell. He did not need Darius after all. He only had to rely on himself.
That fateful day, he had just finished robbing a manor in the north of the Cliftlands and returned for the afternoon to the usual watering hole. Plunking down his payment, Therion received a foaming mug of beer as he sat into the worn stool by the bar of the pub. As usual, he tapped his hand impatiently on the counter as he pretended to chug his beer. There are ways to make it look like you're getting wasted when you're only sipping bit by bit. His eye looked out towards the attending bartender, who got his hint.
"So, here for the next riveting tale of treasure, are we?"
Therion grunted without much care. In a place teeming with thieves, you learn to keep it on the down low.
"Gimme a sec..."
The barkeep turns around to jiggle a loose nozzle on a keg. On a nearby table, a duo of thieves chatted up a hearty storm about the manor Therion had hit. They talk about the guards and everything, because apparently news travels fast.
"They're sayin' 'e got through like a mouse! Not a peep! When the guards finally smartened up, the vault was cleared under their noses!"
"Whaddya suppose the thief's done wit'it anyway? Too much fer one t'spend alone."
Therion quietly smiled to himself wryly. The money wasn't much of anything. What was important was that the stories were going around. He had more money than he needed from that heist and gave a good lump to the gang. He only gave money through Marta, since she seemed to be the only trustworthy type to not blow his cover. Whatever she did with it, he didn't care.
"Too much fer yer small noggin, maybe! I'd buy meself a nice island outside the continent, hehe!"
"Small noggin' ye say?!"
The two idiots quibbled over their gossip. Therion ignores them thoroughly, waiting for the requested information from the barkeep.
"... We'll show 'em all up! The two of us'll make our own fortunes, greater 'an that mystery thief!"
Therion's ear twitched at that arrogant statement. It wasn't that he felt pricked from that pride of amateurs, but that it was a nostalgic boast from his more naïve days...
We'll be the two best tea leaves this realm's ever seen!
Even though his face doesn't betray it, he feels a slight bitter taste in the ale. Empty promises...
"Well, let's see what I can interest you in, hm..." The barkeep finally refocused on the customer at hand, leaning an elbow on the counter and speaking in a low voice, "You... wouldn't happen to be interested in the rumored Ravus hoard, would you?"
"... I've heard of it," Therion muttered, swishing the beer around in the mug, "It worth anything other than words?"
"Not a believer? Well, I can tell ya a few lost their marbles and wits trying their luck... Not a thing to be tried by promising young'uns with futures ahead of 'em, if you get my drift," The barkeep raised an eyebrow.
It wasn't the first time Therion had been underestimated. But after his high from the last heist, he wasn't in the mood to mind.
"Spill it," Therion sipped his drink.
"The usual, if ya've really heard," The barkeep sighed and shrugged, "That manor atop the highest point in Bolderfall, where all the rich used t' live. Only the Ravus manor is left untouched. Stories say a treasure beyond one's wildest dreams lie inside."
"Wildest dreams?" Therion scoffed, "It's the worth of a city, at most."
"Who can say?" The barkeep shrugged again, "It's real stupid of people to get their britches in a bunch over that sort of stuff. Last two months and I've seen six regulars disappear off me stools. Thrown in the gaols they were for tryin' that place."
The older man then looked to Therion with a strange twinkle in his eye despite words of concern, "Ya haven't seen as much as me, so ya oughta keep out of affairs like that. Live your life and enjoy the young blood while it lasts, not waste it getting' thrown into prison."
"... Save your breath," Therion finished his beer and shoved back his seat to stand, "For more stories, maybe."
"When you get to my age, you see a lotta things," The barkeep nodded and collected the vessel, "See you next time then."
Therion smirked as he left the establishment.
Next time, it'll be my tale to tell.
…
What a tale to tell. A load of bullshit after he had swallowed that bitter pill and eaten his share of humble cake.
His heist would have been immaculate, perfect. Guards were like mere decorations to him and his stealth. He waited and bided his time like the masters always said. He followed the stupid rules and snagged himself a letter of introduction from a blabbermouth to use, avoiding the guards and armed walls outside. Once within the walls, he was quiet as a mouse getting in the manor through an open window.
An open window! He should have at least thought that a little suspicious!
Instead, he went right in like a fool. There were some guards here and there, as well as sentries. The ones he could not avoid he ended up knocking out soundly. A few knocks to the head with the butt of a dagger will do well in a pinch. Here and there he disabled a trip wire or disarmed a painting with a hidden dart gun. Nothing big.
It was almost too easy for how the stories made it out to be, no? But this didn't cross his mind at all. He was simply too good.
At last, he found his way to one of the rooms furthest in the heart of the manor. It appeared like a study or something. But his attention was all focused on the pedestals. There are four of them all lined up for the taking... if only three weren't empty for some reason. But, no matter, one of them has the prize.
The one pedestal with the treasure has a blue gemstone sitting atop. The stone looked like a typical sapphire gem on a glance. If this thing could really buy the town three times over, Therion wasn't about to question it. He stepped up to claim his prize all too eagerly...
And was caught like a deer in headlights.
That damn suave-dressed butler, Heathcote... He came in with his quiet, annoying air of confidence. It was all a trap, a setup...
But Therion hadn't felt any fear. He was sure he could escape, no problem. It wasn't the first trap he'd ever triggered. All he had to do was trounce the old man and then hightail the way he came...
If only that were so easy.
Indeed, his speed was enough to give Heathcote a run for his leaves. The thief parried the other's sword strikes well enough to expose weak points, which he took advantage of gladly. Who cares if he's an old man? Anyone who thought they could catch Therion was in for a nasty kick to the face.
He had the upper hand the whole fight, almost dancing circles around the other's swipes. Expecting a clear victory, he went to strike the other unconscious from behind.
Heathcote whirled so suddenly he didn't have a chance to react. The butler clapped something heavy and metal on his wrist in the flash of a second. By the time Therion pulled back, it was too late.
He had become a prisoner.
"The Fool's Bangle. Any thief worth his salt knows that band."
Humiliation. Dread. Regret. His pride, shattered into a million pieces... all the hands of a freaking butler.
Therion could barely control himself from ripping one into Heathcote and forcing the old man to tell him where the damn key was. When Cordelia dared show herself, he had almost half the mind to press his dagger to her throat to get Heathcote to comply.
Why hadn't he...
Because there are codes master thieves don't break. He already wasn't the type to spill blood, and hostages... well, he had never done that. He had to keep a cool head, no matter how much red he was seeing.
It was also highly possible Heathcote was lying in wait for him. The butler front... his moves were just a decoy to draw him in. That's a street style of fighting and Therion would bet his bottom leaves on it. Whoever Heathcote was, he knew a thing or two about how thieves worked. Therion couldn't chance it sudden moves.
So, he had to listen to the sob story Cordelia spun out. Something about the civil war in the Ravus family over her inheritance... She was the mysterious heiress glimpsed now and then from the manor window. Some head of the house, though. She had the face and eyes of a baby, no matter how much she tried to look like a woman with her disguise of make-up.
Anyway, the treasure was apparently four stones that have been reduced to one. The other three are still floating around somewhere on the continent... maybe. Therion didn't even care to ask what these valuable rocks did, and Heathcote never explained.
Therion could only seethe and accept their terms as the cornered rat he was.
"The family treasure was once stolen... As you can see, one of them has been retrieved. But three remain at large... and that is where you come in, Mr. Thief."
What else could he do? Having built up the castle of sand with his pride, he had chosen his hill to die on. He would rather die than have anyone know of his failure.
So now, here he is. A chained errand dog for some old, dead house of former nobility... Man, he almost would have killed the barkeep who slipped him that enticing information too if not for it being in the gang's pub spot. He hid the bangle, but the barkeep gave him a look of knowing, apologetic amusement...
I really... can't trust anyone at all.
What a farce befitting a fool indeed!
…
"... And that's the story."
Therion leans back in the chair offered to him. His poncho is off, slung over the edge of a drying rack. The thief folds his arms over his chest as Natalie places a tray of tea on the table between them. The cleric smiles softly, her scarred eyes unmoving as she sits down.
"That is quite the vetting process for your new job," She jokes.
"Pfuh, some job," Therion scoffs, "What's a guy like me doing running around for someone like... her..."
The memory of Cordelia seeing him off at the Borderfall exit... She was in disguise, wearing some washerwoman's clothes. She had no direction to offer him. Neither did Heathcote. All she could say were some pitiful words for the loser.
"Please … take care of yourself."
As she said that, her eyes... were glimmering with that sickening stuff of compassion...
Stop... don't look at me... like you understand anything...
"I suppose you hate the Lady Ravus and her retainer then," Natalie says, curling her hand around the warm cup of tea.
"... 'Course I... It's just a little," Therion sighs and clears his throat, scratching his head, "They have their bullshit reasons. And this is... just a deal. I just have to fulfill my end of it and get this piece of crap off."
"But you have no leads, right?"
Therion thinks back to that vague mention of the dragonstones and the Cianno family. There wasn't a hint there at all. It had just been a spur to action. The mention of the Ciannos was just bad memories of something he wanted to forget.
Actually, something else was bugging him a bit. Thinking back, one of the voices that night sounded super familiar...
He picks up the tea and sips, feeling the warm liquid soothe his throat, "... I'll manage."
"So, you came all the way up here without knowing if you'd find anything?" Natalie's smile doesn't fade, "You're working very hard."
"...Better than sitting on my ass in thief country parading this around," Therion glares down at the bangle, "... Now you know just about everything though."
"It's been a hard couple of years for you, I can see," Natalie covers her giggle with her hand, "It was only... six years ago that I found you on the edge of life and death, all bloody in a gulch."
She had told him it was pure luck. He didn't remember a lick of it, probably because he nearly smashed his brains out in the fall. From what he could understand, he must have landed in the waters that ran through the gully he and Darius were perched in. Considering the xeric lands, he could very well have ended up a splatter on the dry banks since it wasn't wet season at all. But he ended up in the water. The currents there run fast usually, and pushed him downstream. He might have been washed away and just drowned if a dead tree hadn't caught him in the river. Natalie happened to be stopping her horse in the area for a drink when she discovered the strange purple lump bobbing by the fallen tree. She threw off her heavier garments and waded in to pull him out onto the rocky shore, where she managed to resuscitate him.
His injuries should have killed him. The height of the fall alone was ridiculous. He was bleeding and his arms and body were all twisted due to the broken bones. Natalie wasn't sure her magic was going to be enough, as she was still a sort of greenhorn at the time. But somehow, he pulled through. It was nothing short of a miracle, as Natalie put it... That must be where all the luck in his life went.
"... I'll manage. I always have," Therion says quietly with a less scratchy voice, setting down his tea, "Always have."
"Have the dreams improved at all?"
"Like a simple amulet would going to anything..." The thief runs a hand through his hair, "It's fine. Nothing you can do about it."
The cleric softly chortles, her smile a little sad, "Unfortunately so... I can see the state of your soul still... but I cannot do anything to fix that..."
To the blind cleric, the thief was one of the many lights in a dark world's backdrop. That is how souls appear. His soul takes a vague shape to match his body outline... but chunks from the torso and head are broken and fragmented. Damage to the soul can be done through magic... but more often than not, it is the impact of emotional trauma that leaves such scars. Humans are capable of what monsters can, and so much more.
"It's none of your business anyway," Therion says quickly, seeing her expression dampen, "You helped me enough back then. I can take care of myself now."
"I would hope so. After all, you are traveling with others now..." The cleric's scarred eyes look in the general direction of the thief and her voice is teasing, "I remember how reluctant you were to even talk to me when we met … like a petulant child."
Therion scoffs and repeats, "I can take care of myself. What happened before... won't happen again."
Never trust anyone but yourself... and you won't be betrayed like that ever again, right?
…
Archbishop Josef restrains the cough threatening to erupt from his chest as he sees Ophilia enter with Lianna into his study. Their little family hugs and kisses for a few moments. Josef can scarcely hide his surprise.
"You returned so soon..." He says, tousling the girl's hair, "The gods are merciful indeed..."
"I got the medicine for your cough... But I heard your legs were also..." Ophilia trails off.
"Oh, it's just the age coming on my old bones..." He laughs lightly to assuage the other, "Nothing to be done about it. And it's fine, really! I barely feel any pain seeing you back...! Both my girls under the same roof!"
When he said "my girls," Ophilia cannot help but blush. Her fingers fumble a little taking the medicine out of her pocket. Opening the cube, she finds a spherical bottle inside filled with small blackish orbs. It certainly doesn't look like any medicine she had seen before. Inscribed on the box are instructions to crush and ingest the pellets with water, one per serving, finishing the whole bottle.
"So, you must have a lot to tell Anna and me after your journey down south!"
"Oh, absolutely!" Ophilia says as she prepares the medicine, "There's so much to see on the continent...! We went all the way to Atlasdam and then Rippletide and... Just so much!"
"Ah, reminds me of when I went on the Kindling myself... the world that was once so small became so large overnight..." Josef gently rubs Lianna's hand, "Soon you will see it yourself, Anna."
"Ahh, you and Fili both..." Lianna sighs, "I want to also make sure you feel better... Or I'll just worry the whole time!"
"How did you deal with homesickness, your Excellency? Surely you had worry for those that you wouldn't be able to see during the pilgrimage..."
"Well, I did have some mentors I missed terribly over my travels... But I was a young, unmarried man who left his family to work with the Church... So, I didn't feel nearly so homesick... I was too busy being amazed by everything Orsterra had to offer."
"Humph, so you don't know how me and Fil worry for you so on the road!" Anna puffs a cheek cutely.
"I guess it is a fair point... It is easier to travel before you have settled down..." Ophilia brings over the medicine, "Here, your Excellency."
Josef takes the cup gratefully. He gives it a few cautionary sniffs, "Whoo, this is very pungent..."
"I think it's foreign medicine..."
The archbishop downs the drink and shudders, "Bitter, too..."
"They say the best medicines are bitter!" Anna says optimistically, "Do you feel better already?"
"..." Josef blinks and feels his chest a bit, "Why... by the grace of Dohter, I do!"
Lianna and Ophilia look to each other with surprise, which quickly becomes joy.
"T-this medicine is really something after all!"
"Oh, father, I'm so glad!" Lianna hugs her parent, "Now you just have to finish the whole bottle!"
"It says you only take three a day, before each mealtime, preferably," Ophilia reads from the box, "But, my word, that such apothecaries exist...!"
"Indeed, I will need to thank Mattias for his help also," Josef moves to stand, albeit wobbly. Lianna forces him back onto the chair.
"I'll go talk to Mattias and bring him here. But your legs still aren't very good, even if your cough is gone!"
"Ah, I will have to thank him as well-"
"You stay and catch up with father!" Lianna jabs a finger at her adoptive sister's direction, "I can go myself!"
After Lianna puts them both in their place, she departs with a cheery smile. Ophilia sits a little dumbfounded with Josef by his desk. The two burst out laughing at Lianna's headstrong attitude and begin chatting about all the details of Ophilia's trip, down to the last details of food. The cleric skillfully omits any of the parts about the thieving scholar, an assassin, and pirates.
"Ophilia, do you desire traveling at all?"
"Hm? What do you mean, your Excellency?"
"Your eyes light up when you talk about what you saw, and the people you met... By the way, our guests are still here, no?"
"Mm... They are taking shelter from the coming storm..." Ophilia pauses, "After which, they will likely depart."
Josef lightly rubs her shoulder, "And that saddens you, correct?"
"Uhm, well, I have just... gotten to know some of them and they all seem like very nice people so of course I am sad and worried to see them go out. After all, it's-" Ophilia takes a breather from her rambling excuse. She looks down at her hands on her lap, not willing to face Josef.
"I don't desire to leave the cathedral," She says after her pause.
"... Ophilia, you had shown how you truly felt, even if you deny the emotions now," Josef lightly sighs, "It is alright to admit you will be leaving here as well, like Lianna, on your own journey someday. That is something I foresaw a long time ago... I may not be emotionally prepared, but..."
He pats her shoulder, "We all have a calling in our duty. Think of how Natalie became a traveling cleric when she was around your age."
"I … I just don't want to abandon you, fath-" She catches herself again and sighs, "Your Excellency... I have similar worries as Lianna about your health."
"Abandon me? Silly Fili..." Josef chuckles and rubs her head, "I only wish I don't leave the two of you so soon. But for you, traveling out … I would be happy if that is doing what your heart desires."
What your heart desires...
H'aanit had said similar, hadn't she? Ophilia leans a little on Josef, feeling the warmth pervade her cheeks. Josef lightly smiles, seeing her cheeks redden slightly.
…
Primrose and Alfyn arrive to the doors of the church after their brief detour, just as the clouds outside darken, and a chilling wind whips across the white drifts.
"Oh my, more guests?" A nun gasps after Alfyn mentions them to be friends of Ophilia. She looks a bit oddly at the crimson-dressed dancer who walks in like it's a summer beach day outside, "Uhh..."
Primrose just gives a saccharine smile, "Yes, we were told there were rooms here to ward the coming storm. The town inn is full."
"I-I see... We weren't told the nature of Ophilia's... guests," The nun finally manages before gesturing towards the rooms, "Right this way."
In the room provided by the church, the adventurers find cots separated by curtains, with a bed for each of them.
"Ah, the inn did not have rooms, hm," Olberic sees the dancer and apothecary enter, "Tis good you came before the storm hit."
"Yeah, haha, they were really swamped there," Alfyn looks around, "Huh? Where'd Therion go?"
"I must confess, he vanished entirely!" Cyrus exclaims as he's unpacking his valise, "Probably absconded into the other parts of the church mayhap? Surely not outside with the snows."
"Ehh, I gotta go find him then," Alfyn scratches the back of his head, "He sounded like he got a cough earlier and I don't wanna let that slide!"
Primrose wordlessly goes to sit down on a bed, choosing the one on the other side of H'aanit. The huntress glances to the stoic dancer as her new neighbor. Primrose doesn't seem to notice her gaze at first.
"Well then!" Cyrus announces, from the other side of H'aanit's bed, "We shan't wait for the waters to cool! I assume they already have drawn our baths."
"Ehh, a bath already? You're too old for your age, Cyrus!" Tressa chuckles, "We just landed, and we have the whole day ahead of us!"
"I assume the church will largely be occupied with the ritual they mentioned," Olberic says pensively, "And the storm will render us unable to go outside. So, we will likely have to entertain ourselves indoors."
Tressa flutters her lips. It seems her first day out of Rippletide will be one of boredom.
"Nothing wrong with a quiet day after the fights we have had," Primrose says with a small sigh, "I'd say a nice walk through the church wouldn't be uninvited."
"Hmm, indeed, this is perhaps opportune," Cyrus says, nodding too himself.
"I'm gonna go find Therion then!" Alfyn trots out of the room without even throwing anything down on a bed.
"He traveln with not but the clothes on his backside, hm," H'aanit remarks.
"That can be said the same of you, H'aanit!" Cyrus says observantly, "I myself have too many writings to bring along, so the thought of a mere satchel is heart-stopping! Whatever books would I take? How am I to choose?"
Tressa snickers, "Gee, that sounds like a real easy choice. Who brings books when you've got the world's treasures to collect?"
"I will look into if we can get our clothes washed here," Olberic lays down his sword at the bedside, "And then I would like to discuss with lady H'aanit and sir Cyrus about our coincident paths if I may."
"Oh?" H'aanit arches an eyebrow at the scholar, "Coincident?"
"Ah yes, it seems we will be going the same way westward, to the Cliftlands?" Cyrus nods, "Fate has mysterious ways."
"The Cliftlands?" Tressa perks up, "Hmm..."
"Have you given thought to your next destination, lass?" Olberic looks to the merchant girl, "Else you had best return home."
"Huh! Don't underestimate me!" Tressa puffs out her chest.
...
Lunchtime eventually rolls around in the church. Everyone gathers in the grand mess hall, where long wooden tables and benches are lain out. People line for the daily helping of starch, soup, and some protein. Today, it seems the travelers are lucky. There is hearty potato and pea soup, rustic bread, and meat! It seems the Knights Ardante had a good hunt just yesterday and bagged some snow elks.
"Mm, smells awesome!" Tressa licks her lips as she receives her plate of food, "Kinda weird not to have seafood for once."
"I myself have never had Frostland cuisine," Cyrus sits down on an empty spot on a bench, "From what I have read, it is primarily based around stews and soups, as they keep one warmer in the cold. Meat is perhaps the biggest staple, along with carbohydrates like bread and potatoes. Tubers in general are highly resilient due to their growing in the ground, though that is not to say they are utterly impervious to clim-"
"Must thou talketh so much that thine food cooleth as well?" H'aanit sighs as she plunks down next to the scholar. Linde and Hägen strut about near the travelers before laying down near H'aanit's feet.
"Oh, what do Linde and Hägen eat, H'aanit?" Tressa asks with a mouthful of soup.
"Little girls who've been bad," Therion chimes in as he walks over to sit with Alfyn.
"Hey!" Tressa frowns as the thief sits down, "And where were you sneaking off to huh?"
"None of your business," Therion calmly eats his food.
"Haha, Therion was just catching up with someone!" Alfyn grins.
"Doen not jest of it. Linde and Hägen doth not humans eaten," H'aanit raises an eyebrow at the thief as she eats, "Did not thinken I did thou hadst friends here."
"He's surprisingly well-traveled, despite looking like a misanthrope shut-in," Primrose chuckles as she sits down next to Alfyn. Therion rolls his eye at her comment.
"The diet of snow leopards and dire wolves, my dear Tressa," Cyrus starts his spiel late, "Is entirely carnivorous. They are divergent, however, based on their differing hunting strategies. For example, leopards are usually solitary hunters. Therefore, their prey cannot be so dangerous to a lone individual. They commonly prefer small creatures like owls, hares, and squirrels, which they can hunt in the snows and trees with their claws. On the other hand, wolves hunt in packs and can therefore undertake larger prey like oxen and-"
Linde smacks the scholar's shin with her tail to make him cease his rambling. He yelps and the rest of the table snickers. Olberic joins and sits down beside the dancer. They all proceed to eat and merrily banter within the warm hall as the snows howl outside.
A majority of the church staff and members eat together, much like how the travelers gravitated towards their own bunch. Ophilia, Lianna, and Josef all sit with the pontiff, the sisters, other clerics, and even Mattias.
"Thank the Gods for this meal," Josef says a quick grace, "And that our family and new friends can all be together to join in on the bounty we have, warm and protected in shelter from the storm."
"Well, tomorrow is the big day, Anna!" Mattias says jovially as he wastes no time chowing down, "Aren't you excited?"
"I'm practically shivering," Lianna sighs with a small smile, "The path to the first location, Saintsbridge of the Riverlands... is so far away and I'll be seeing... so many things probably!"
"You'll be fine, Lianna, I just know it," Ophilia smiles.
"What about you, Fili?" Mattias turns his attentions now to the other cleric, "Thought about traveling with me yet?"
"Leaving so soon already, Mattias?" Josef looks to the merchant, "You've barely spent any time with us these days."
"Well, I am open to staying a little. I have enough clout in the Consortium to take some time between sales... But how could I delay setting off with Ophilia?" Mattias chuckles.
"I... I think I would... like to travel..." Ophilia adds quickly, "I-if that's okay with everyone, of course! I know there is a lot of duties that I usually help with, and I would hate if anyone got overworked because I-"
"Good Gods, you were actually fancying going out?" Patricia almost drops the potato on her fork, "If I were a gambler, I would have lost that bet!"
Natalie chuckles, "Ophilia has seen a lot these last few days. I remember I was hesitant to go out my first time, too. But I can't say it would be a bad thing for the two sisters to be out on the road."
"Well sorry for being a bother!" Lianna jokingly huffs.
"More clerics out in the world, teaching the ways of Aelfric, is never a bad thing," Julius chortles, drinking deeply from his goblet.
"His Holiness is correct," Josef smiles, "I would be remiss in saying I did not want the two of you walking the path of the Flame… spreading your light throughout the world."
At their father's wishes, Lianna and Ophilia feel their faces and ears heat up. Diverting the conversation from lofty expectations, they banter about what has been happening for the four days They all share a hearty laugh over the nice, hot meal.
…
As the storm kept up strong through the day, everyone had to find some way to occupy themselves. Ophilia and Lianna are busy helping around the church with their typical duties like candle-keeping, cleaning the abbey, and such. The travelers, not being church staff, sit around a bit more restlessly. The warrior, huntress, and scholar take their time to discuss their plans with an old map on the bed.
"…Hmm, yes, this be'en the best route," H'aanit traces the path on Olberic's map with a finger through the patch of green, "I knowe this route. Doth be safer this time of year."
"Hmm, that is most helpful… Though it does seem a bit of a detour," Olberic puts a pensive hand to his chin as he follows the huntress' guidance, "But it may be well worth it if it means less encounters with monsters."
"I concur," Cyrus nods, "Ah, but H'aanit, you shan't be coming with us to Quarrycrest?"
H'aanit shakes her head, "I haven only heard my master returned to that area by the Cliftlands… I knowen not if he hath further gone."
"Perhaps the locale would be of help," Olberic circles the border of the Cliftlands and Woodlands with a finger, "We will be passing by with your good grace. Tis only fair we may aid you even a little in your search."
"This appreciated... But he be'en my charge and none other," H'aanit sighs. Nearby, Hägen gives a lonely snort and settles his head on his paws.
"Finding one man across all of the continent seems a bit of a trial, I must confess," Cyrus holds his chin in thought, "Though I suppose hunters do have a history of brilliant tracking."
"Mayhap, but t'would bode ill if it turns out you did have to go deeper inland from Middlesea," Olberic nods, "It is better to be sure than to regret division."
"Phwaa..." Tressa plops down her book, finished with the filled pages at last, "Gee, what a read!"
"Enjoyed your book, did you?" Cyrus looks over to the merchant girl.
"Yep! And I know where to go next!" Tressa hops over to their bed, "You guys are headed for Quarrycrest, right?"
"Indeed," Olberic nods, "Is that your destination as well?"
"Mhm! It's the last recorded town in this journal! So, I'll go and live it up like the guy who wrote this!" Tressa holds the journal up like a trophy, "He must've run into Leon in the Cliftlands."
"Odd place to run into a pirate," Olberic shrugs, "But very well. The four of us can set off together once the storm permits."
The dancer, meanwhile, occupies herself wandering the halls of the church. Needless to say, her garments catch quite a few eyes as she passes. The timid sisters whisper here and there. None of it bothers her in the slightest. Now that she is finally in the Frostlands... she has to find that vile crow wing.
It is unlikely being cooped up in this church would yield any clues. Unfortunately, she hadn't made any queries about it when she had the chance back in town...
She sighs and sits down in one of the covered loggias in the church wing. The dark power inside her might be what is making her feel uneasy in this setting... Either or her disbelief in general towards the church and its ideals.
After all, the world as it is... how can anyone say the gods care to listen to your prayers?
From the corner of her eye, she sees Alfyn walking over with Therion. The apothecary waves to her with a big grin as usual. The smile she returns with is flawless as usual.
"The storm seems to be dragging on a bit," Primrose chuckles.
"Yeah, but this place is pretty neat! They have some nice books on old cures using sacred plants and-"
"You're starting to sound like Cyrus," Therion rolls his eyes.
"Eh? What's that mean?"
"Hehe, that's nice, Alfyn," Primrose chuckles, "So! Have you boys decided where you're going from here?"
"Uhm..." Alfyn looks to the dancer and Therion.
"I'm gonna hit up the tavern once the piss weather lets up," Therion sighs, "Can't get a lead around here with the eavesdropping nuns."
"I will have to consider that as well," Primrose sighs, "I don't know if my target has moved since I took so long to get here."
Therion looks to the apothecary, "We might end up splitting. If we do, you oughta find your own way, maybe."
"A-Aw shucks, I guess I kinda got used t'traveling with the rest of ya," Alfyn chuckles, "Didn't think about anything after."
Therion rolls his eyes and Primrose interjects, "We'd be fine if you decide to go with either of us, Alfyn. I'm sure even our new acquaintances could use an apothecary like you on the road."
"Gee, ya really think so?" Alfyn perks up and grins, "Well, I guess... I gotta go see the world a bit more if I'm gonna find everyone who needs help...!"
"Indeed," Primrose stands and stretches, "Meanwhile, I'm afraid of bursting into cabin fever after just a day like this!"
"... I'm getting out of here first then," Therion grumbles and draws the high collar of his poncho up, "Don't wanna be here for that."
"What? Going out? You only just got off that sore throat!" Alfyn exclaims.
"The storm is certainly lighter now … perhaps the worst has passed and this is just a bit of a straggler," Primrose glances outside to the blinding white, "I will take my chances as well. Alfyn, you stay here, lest you get a cold yourself."
"W-Wait, you two!" Alfyn balks a bit as the dancer and thief seriously begin heading for the doors out.
"Out to the cold, eh?"
The three run into Natalie near the front door. The blind cleric smiles wryly, with a pelt coat in hand.
"It won't do to get cold in this weather. Take care not to tarry too long or you will be buried in the snow. You'd be surprised how often that happens around here!"
…
Bundled reluctantly in the church's borrowed pelt coats, the three of them trudge through the scattered storm. Well, only Primrose is really reluctant. Alfyn took the opportunity to tag along in a heartbeat. Despite the harrowing weather and poor vision, there are others out here as well as the storm's worst seems to have passed. Knights Ardante, dressed in heavy coats, are helping shovel and clear the paths as best they can before the buildup is too much to take care of later.
Eventually, they reach the building for the pub. While it is snowing, there are some people already piled into the toasty tavern. The strong smell of warm spices and sweet mead permeate inside.
"Whoo...!" Alfyn scuttles in and shivers, shaking off the snow on his coat, "We made it!"
"Hmm, poor showing, too... Though that is to be expected..." Primrose sighs and hangs the old coat up, "Well, enjoy yourselves, boys."
Therion rolls his eyes as the dancer saunters away to sit down at the table with some stranger. The thief walks over to the bar and sits down by the counter. Eventually, Alfyn joins him. This is a really quiet place. The barkeep quietly scours at a pan, finishing his cleaning before he turns to face the new patrons. Even Primrose's conversation is low and quiet. In the end of the tavern opposite the entrance, there is an occasional snap from the fire in the fireplace.
"... How can I help you folk?" The grizzled barkeep asks in a rumbly voice, "Mighty brave of you to come in a snowstorm."
"Well, the worst of it passed and there were other people out so it felt like a good time use up what's left of the day!" Alfyn says with a jolly smile, "Gee, I don't see any plants grow here but the smell is so floral... what do you use?"
"Spiced mead. Outside of town are the evergreens and nevergreens. Take a few of their nuts and make spices for your tum-tum," The barkeep nods, "You an apothecary? We don't see much of you here."
"Ahaha, yep, an apothecary I am!" Alfyn proudly tugs at his green vest, "From Clearbrook!"
"The Riverlands, hm. What brings y'all up here?"
"Ever hear of precious stones around here?" Therion interjects offhandedly, appearing uninterested.
"Hm? Here? That's barkin' up the wrong fir," The barkeep shakes his head, "All the stones be in the Cliftlands. Heard some people make a nice fortune over there these days even..."
Therion grumbles. It was similar to what Figgs mentioned back in Clearbrook. At this rate, he was going to be making a full circle back to where he started! What an utter waste of time...
Meanwhile, Primrose entertains the chattering of a man claiming to be an inventor at his table. He shows her eagerly a few packets of a special powder that emits heat when crushed.
"A few of these in your pockets and your fingers will be toasty even in a blizzard like this one!" The man enthusiastically rambles on.
"Fascinating," Primrose smiles sweetly, "Have you thought of making this more marketable?"
"Ahh, I would like it... unfortunately, I couldn't get the grant I wanted..." The man folds his arms, "See, I came from the Cliftlands originally. Hard times in Orewell and all that everywhere! I was thinkin' of making it big in Quarrycrest with my fire boom-boom sticks!"
Primrose chuckles at the name of the ridiculous invention, "Whatever got in your way?"
"The local land baron there, Morlock, was on the verge of paying me big to mass produce my invention and help out in the mines, you know? This stuff will warm your fingers, but put a fuse and some catalyst on it and you got yourself the boom-boom stick! It's bound to blow up all the rock in your way, faster than three miners in a day!" The man lapses into a melancholic silence, staring down at the packets on the table, "Then some dark hoods came into town and cut the deal. I dunno how they got a backdoor conference or anything but Morlock was floored. They even chased me outta town!"
"Dark hoods?" Primrose perks up, hearing that familiar description, "...Do you know them?"
"Nah, I don't... Later some people told me I was lucky to survive a run in with them called the Obsidians or whatnot," The man rubs his chin, "Actually, just a few days ago, I think I done saw a person like that pass town to the west. 'Course, I didn't get close. Bad memories and all that."
"West..." Primrose could scarcely believe her luck, "...And you said you had seen them in Quarrycrest as well?"
"Well, yeah, but that was well over five years ago. 'Course, I hear they have establishments in cities so maybe they stayed after I left," The inventor scoffs, "Everyone says they're bad news."
"Obsidians, hm... Well," Primrose goes to stand, "That is a very interesting story... I hope you do make it big one day."
"Oh, oh, thanks! With a beauty like you saying that, I'd be hard-pressed to fail!" The inventor's spirits seem lifted, "Count on it! You'll see 'Hans' Inventions' in every household in the continent soon enough!"
Primrose nods and turns to go over to the duo at the bar. Excitement to cut and spill blood leaps within her chest as her smile turns genuine, with a hint of biding malice.
…
As the travelers and church rested by night in preparations for the Kindling and setting out in the morrow, Mattias walks through the halls of the cathedral. He pauses briefly before the room where the sacred flame blazes from the lanthorn atop an altar, waiting to be taken across the continent by the flamebearer. His eyes reflect the flames with a cold light and he tears himself away with a scowl.
Within the archbishop's quarters, the merchant makes no sound as he moves through the dark, as though he were immaterial. Reaching the other's desk, he espies the medicine. From the look of it, a good amount of the bottle has been consumed already. Mattias sneers with a chilling expression.
He looks over at the sleeping Josef.
"You'll be lucky to see the next moon... It serves you right," Mattias says with venom, "I should thank you for taking care of Ophilia all these years though..."
A dark voice calls from the void beyond, unheard to everyone.
In her sleep, Primrose shivers slightly.
Yes, the boom-boom stick is dynamite.
Also, I did take the inventor NPC from Stillsnow and stuck him in Flamesgrace instead.
Happy New Year!