When morning arrived in Quarrycrest, everyone was shocked to hear of the news distributed by Odette and her compatriots among the townsfolk. Morlock was dead. His operations would be put on indefinite hold. His guards and hired supervisors had apparently all but absconded overnight. It was a somewhat welcome occurrence, since that meant they wouldn't be a problem down the road, maybe. Some stragglers did remain, but they were either the ones too injured to move, or had all but renounced their allegiances overnight.
Odette emphasized that a plan is in place for families who relied on the baron to survive. The well-off merchants were recommended to relocate at their own discretion. Miners and others who toiled under Morlock were to check with Odette and her office for financial security funds that would help them relocate as well, as well as a little extra for any remissions they needed for families back home.
It is no small undertaking. As expected, a deluge of people poured in to claim benefits, and a long line had formed already, reaching halfway across Quarrycrest from Odette's office, by noon. People who were not even eligible miners showed up to get a slice of the cake from the late Morlock's money. This only made the task harder, but it was an expected outcome. After all, who doesn't want free money?
Interestingly, Tressa, Therion, Ophilia, and Primrose are helping out at Odette's office with this endeavor. The merchant girl is eager to lend a hand out in the aftermath, and she solicited the aid of Therion and Primrose since they did such a good job keeping traffic at her shop just yesterday. Ophilia, of course, wants to help the townspeople however she can, even if she knows nothing about administrative matters.
"Alright, I'll need to see some paper proof! Morlock was a sleazy guy, but he must've given you workers some sort of identification!" Tressa hollers with her auction volume, "Stay in line or move to the back! We're trying to make this work, people!"
Therion sighs. At least he was being paid, on top of what he was paid this morning, as promised by the merchant. While he stands mainly near the front, intimidating some people, Primrose moves up and down the lines to keep some order.
"Ah, Ms. Odette, is this alright?" Ophilia shows a stack of some paperwork she filled out with a miner to the scholar already swamped in papers.
"... No, that's not the right field. And you left the identification area blank," Odette sighs, rubbing her eye at the paper.
"Oh, uh, he says he doesn't have it but he had been working here for three years to support his family in Orewell..."
"... Miss Cleric..." Odette looks Ophilia in the eye, "Blind benevolence won't get us anywhere. If everyone with a sob story under the sun came, we wouldn't have enough money for people who really need it. We need them to prove their worker status."
Ophilia bites her bottom lip and sighs, defeated. She goes to deliver the dour news to the hopefuls, much to their dismay and occasional anger.
"I told you! I worked this mountain for a good five years! I got the lashes from the supervisors to prove it!" One man slams the table.
"You can get lashes as a criminal, too," Therion scoffs.
"Why you-!"
When the man makes a swing at the thief, Therion grabs his wrist and twists it behind, slamming his face onto the desk. He makes a pained grunt as Therion lightly presses on his wrist.
"Now, now, boys..." Primrose walks over with a coy smile, "Let's all try to be truthful here, alright? We're not here to swindle anyone, right?"
Some of the swindler-wannabes pale at the display of power between the thief and dancer. They dutifully drop out of line. There are hardliners, of course, who are adamant about claiming their benefits. One or two of Morlock's former guards even come to claim, as their livelihoods did technically hinge on the baron.
"Hey, why are you here?! You were on that slimy bastard's side!"
"Yeah, haven't you taken from the town enough already?!"
"If anyone starts a fight, I'm kicking all of you out!" Odette snaps.
"Dang, she's good," Tressa swallows a little as she sees Odette tame the crowd.
"Let's just get this done..." Therion yawns. He had swiped a few passing baubles from the comers. If they had anything worth stealing, they shouldn't be on this line anyway.
And so, between Tressa's hawking, Ophilia's bleeding heart, Therion's indifference, Primrose's seduction, and Odette's actual productivity, they miraculously managed to keep the office running with minimal hiccups, save for the occasional mean-spirited customer or persistent conman.
In the meantime, Cyrus was leading some spelunkers Odette was able to scrounge up to explore the rest of Gideon's workshop. Odette was originally going to be part of the expedition, but she unfortunately now had other duties.
"By golly, this place gives me the creeps..." One of the workmen shudders as they help move about some equipment for scrap, "You're telling me some guy was collecting blood... like a vampire?"
"Ah, an excellent observation. It is a novel method of vampirism. Or, should I say, would be, if vampirism were not more narrowly defined. You see, he did not collect sanguine essence for his own consumption, but, rather, for his experiments dealing in a rather opaque and esoteric... Well, perhaps that is not the best pair of adjectives to describe something like-"
"So, what do we do with these?" Someone hollers over and interrupts him, standing over the blood stone fragments still in the red circle. The circle's light has dimmed significantly since Gideon's death. However, there is still a slight hue to the red lines in the floor, no doubt drawn with blood.
"Ah, please be careful!" Cyrus swoops over, "These are the stones formed from the blood collected from the victims! I have reason to believe Gideon was using them as some sort of arcane focus... However, being made from something so forbidden like human blood, it possibly also doubles as an augment, perhaps, or perhaps a special conduit to-"
"Are you going to do this the whole time?" An annoyed spelunker gives Cyrus an eye roll, eliciting a chuckle from his fellow workmen.
"... do what?" Cyrus blinks innocently.
"Gee, what a hardhead..."
"Ah, do be careful with the glass product! It looks to be a rather expensive type of molding technique. Notice the twists and seamless meshing with the metal? This sort of equipment would be a fortune even for the Academy's Department of Sciences..." Cyrus sighs, "... Why such a well-read scholar would turn to such dark magic befuddles me..."
"You mind picking up a brush and, I dunno, helping out a bit?"
While Cyrus directs and half-annoys all his borrowed workmen, Alfyn is providing solo care and attention to Olberic, Ali, and H'aanit. He had assured Ophilia that he could hold the fort while she went to help Odette. The busybody apothecary even makes trips to go see the girl they had rescued. Odette had found a house willing to lend a bed for the girl to sleep on following her rescue. She seemed as delirious as Olberic in her sleep. From her imprisonment, her face was gaunt, with sunken eyes and cheeks. Her skin is sallow and her dry lips murmur incoherently in intervals. Her body twitches here and there, as though too weak to fully move.
"... She's been through hell," The house owner Pilgreen folds his arms. He is a merchant Odette made contact with back in Bolderdrop. By pure luck, he owns a house in Quarrycrest, though he is not always present to dwell in it.
"Yeah... They say her name's Melanie. Seems mighty young, too," Alfyn sighs gently as he applies a soaked sponge to the girl's clammy forehead.
"Sounds familiar. A local girl, I think," Pilgreen pours out a small amount of tobacco to fill his pipe, "Yeah, she helped out at the store!"
"Yeah... I saw the missing persons papers," Alfyn says with a sad expression.
"You're telling me some sewer man did this? Like, a man who was living right under our noses in the old sewers? Odette didn't tell me the full picture," Pilgreen scratches his scrappy mustache, "And now we have this crazy business with Morlock done in by who-knows-what... Gods, what is this world coming to...?"
"... I'm just glad we could save at least one of 'em," Alfyn looks pensively to his hands and clenches them reflexively, "'Else it coulda been... worse..."
"Quarrycrest could use an apothecary. Only ones that ever seen here always left too soon. Traveling doctors and whatnot. That sound good to you?" Pilgreen looks to the apothecary, who hadn't stopped moving or fretting since he arrived.
"... Nah... Hehe, I gotta see to more patients elsewhere, ya know?" Alfyn gives a half-grin to Pilgreen. It felt strange to smile, considering all that had happened. They had just accomplished a great deal in the town... but whether it was all good or bad remained a mystery. And Alfyn's bleeding heart was unsatisfied.
Back in the inn, H'aanit narrowly avoided a full-on fever thanks to Ophilia and Alfyn's attentions to her injuries. The huntress looks a bit moodily about the empty inn room. Tressa had paid for another night so they wouldn't get shooed out midday. H'aanit sighs and runs her hand lazily across Linde's fur as she shifts on the pillows Ophilia had fluffed this morning. Without the cleric here, the huntress found herself feeling a bit restless.
"Rr..." Linde gives a content smirk as she gets scratched. The big cat gives the huntress a knowing look.
"... What doth thou smirken on?" H'aanit averts her eyes slightly, "Thou knowest I wishen to run a mite. Tis fare bettern for mine wounds. Tis all."
Linde playfully licks her hand and tilts her head. Hägen gives a low snort. He doesn't climb onto the bed, but he does rest his front paws and head on the bedside. H'aanit scratches him gently between the ears.
"...Thou art both so amused, hm?" H'aanit says, herself unamused, "Why doen thine eyes looketh with such cunning scheme?"
The snow leopard gives a sort of laughing expression at the huntress' plight. Hägen is much more somber. He looks H'aanit square in the eyes. H'aanit holds his gaze briefly and then scoffs lightly, rubbing his snout.
"... Mayhap I haven cometh to expecten her company too much..." H'aanit leans back a bit, "We haven different paths..."
Her grey-green eyes almost seem uncharacteristically wistful. As a huntress, one usually turns away from what can distract from the hunt. One of the reasons other people found her with no tact was that she was only very focused on the hunt. Even Z'aanta at least had a hobby, however unhealthy. H'aanit was also such a distant peak for other hunters. Concerned only with beasts and the hunt, she was a more responsible paragon of a hunter than her master. But that intimidated people. Often times, they approached her only for training or tips, which was fine with her.
But now... for the cleric to be on her mind at such odd hours...
Our paths... doen not remain. Yet I hath solely her to...
"... It truly doeth me none to stay like this... Ugh..." She grunts slightly as she goes to shift and sit up. There is a sharp pain still on her abdomen. The wound was inflicted just yesterday. Ophilia's healing felt stronger than usual as she and Alfyn worked tirelessly to keep the huntress from bleeding out. There is no seepage on the bandages, which were freshly changed from the morning.
"Rrow!" Linde protests with a growl and goes to try and push H'aanit back down onto the bed.
"I aren fine, Linde..." H'aanit winces a bit. She could barely resist her partner gently pushing on her. How pathetic. Hägen gives her a look of something like exasperated disapproval and shakes his head.
"... I willen not ventureth far. I simply cannot be'en leften in bed another moment," H'aanit sighs.
She manages to get her legs onto the floor. Her step is steady enough when she stands. It did feel rather wobbly after a few moments though, as she feels the weakness from blood loss. Linde and Hägen keep close to her should she fall.
"... I oughten see'n of Berg, mayhap..." H'aanit shuffles slowly to the door and turns the knob. She looks out to the quiet hallway of the inn before going next door. The door is ajar. She looks in.
She sees the warrior half-covered in sheets. His large frame looks almost too big for the bed. The merchant named Ali is on the bed over. He's sitting up and seems to be moving about better than she is.
"Hm? Oh, hi!" Ali sees her lingering at the door and waves, "You're... the Woodlander!"
"..." H'aanit steps in silently and nods, "Thou aren called Ali..."
"Ah, yep, haha. Oh, don't mind me, I'm just stretching the old sore muscles... Yowch..." He winces as he bends to reach his toe, "Looks like all three of us are on the mend?"
H'aanit glances at Olberic, who is still asleep. Ophilia had told her about the revelation on his true identity. It wasn't something that meant anything special to the huntress. Whether she called him Berg or Olberic was superficial.
"How're your injuries? That looks real nasty," Ali points at the bandages on H'aanit's waist. The huntress has her shirt tied up, just enough to cover her breasts but expose her healing wound area, as per Alfyn's instruction.
"... I aren fine," H'aanit sighs, "Twas treated quickly."
"Hehe, this town turned out to be a real bag of surprises, eh?" Ali chuckles, trying to make conversation, "I sure didn't think I'd end up all black and blue."
"... Aye. It weren a … shock," H'aanit thinks back to that dank, stagnant air of death and blood down in the sewers. When they neared, she could feel her very soul repelling from the arcane energy emanating from within. When Gideon used his shadows on them, she felt cold from the very core of her being, like she was frozen on a metaphysical level. All of these, the level of fear and depravity witnessed, were things she never experienced before. She closes her eyes.
"Rowrr?" Linde props herself up on her forelegs by Olberic's side and lightly swats at his exposed, muscled arm.
"Hey, hey, don't wake him," Ali cautions to the leopard.
"Rr..."
"Linde," H'aanit goes to sit down on the floor and calls her partner over. The huntress grunts a bit as she settles down, leaning against the wall behind. Her breathing is slightly winded on account of the aching pain. Linde obediently trots over to her, allowing her to run her hand in her fur.
"Gee whiz, that's some trained beast," Ali observes, "Never seen anything like it. Even the snake charmers aren't that comfy with their cobras."
"Snake charmers?" H'aanit looks to Ali, "Serpents aren... difficult."
"Huh, well I wouldn't know. There's some old gurus who have them. They charm them with a flute and all? It was a fun street thing I saw as a kid back in Marsalim."
"Hm, Marsalim..." H'aanit thinks a moment, "Tis a large city in the land of sun, no?"
"Yep, capital of the old Yashumite tribe. After they united everyone under Triberia, Marsalim became the de facto executive center of the Sunlands."
"I knowen not that history... I knowe little overall of the land of sun..." H'aanit rubs Linde between her ears, "Tis not the climate I doth preferen hunteth in, should I haven the choice."
"Ahh, alright, alright, fair. Can't be that comfortable with those thick furs. Tell me about it. It gets too hot down there sometimes even for natives!" Ali chuckles, "Still, they had stuff I never ever saw again since I left..."
The merchant props his chin up on his elbow as he looks off into the distance with nostalgia.
"There really isn't any place like home, huh?"
"... Aye... there be'en none such place..." H'aanit lowers her gaze to the wooden floor. The grains reminded her of the wooden huts back in S'warkii. It wasn't like she never got homesick for that place. Many a time after a hunt outside, she would be gladdened to return. However, now, as she thought about it, something was missing. It didn't feel as cozy in her mind. Something crucial to its warmth is out of place. Is it Z'aanta?
"... I think I'll stop by sometime, hehe. But, not without the main prize!" Ali slaps his own knee and winces.
"..." Linde gives a mocking scoff at the merchant.
"...Man, this guy really sleeps like a log, huh?" Ali chuckles, pointing a thumb at Olberic, who hadn't so much as stirred during their entire conversation.
"... He hath much endured," H'aanit sighs, "Twas a dastardly scene. I knowe not how much blood that madman hath taken from him."
Seeing Gideon's contraptions reminded her vaguely of how hunters often dressed their kills in the field with bleeding first. They would slit the animal's throat whilst it was still alive but felled. The still-beating heart would keep the blood streaming out of the corpse until the animal ultimately died, thus cleaning much of its system and preventing the meat and bone from quicker spoilage. Afterward, the animal would be hung to let the rest of the blood run out before they skinned it.
"Oh boy, to fell a big fella like him? Makes my injuries feel lighter," Ali sighs, "Lotta messed up people in the world."
"Aye..." H'aanit murmurs, "... I willen return to mine cot then..."
She grunts as she stands, using the wall as support. Ali waves a bit after her as he finishes his stretching, "Alright, take care, uh..."
"... H'aanit," She says airily.
"Oh. I'm Ali! Uh, but you probably heard from tent town."
The huntress nods and leaves the merchant and warrior's room with her beasts. Linde and Hägen keep close by her to make sure she returns to her room and bed. She chuckles softly at their protectiveness.
"Thanken thee both," She rubs both of them under their jowls.
Linde purrs appreciatively. Hägen gives a low, comfortable growl. The huntress glances down at the bandages on her waste. She hears Alfyn come in and go to check on Olberic and Ali, chatting up breathlessly.
Though there be scoundrels... There are also the wlonk among us... H'aanit smiles softly as her mind drifts a little to the blonde cleric.
…
After an exhausting day, the line of takers for the benefits of the post-Morlock fund has finally dwindled to its last as Odette places up a sign that they would be closing up soon. More people are welcome to come tomorrow, if necessary, but they needed time now to do processing.
"Oh gosh, I am BEAT!" Tressa exclaims as she lets her head knock on the table before her, "My eyes are swimming from all the papers!"
"Whew..." Ophilia sighs, leaning back on the chair she was given. She had taken off her cloak halfway through the day and leaned it behind her on account of the fatigue building heat.
"Good work. Better than expected," Odette drags a tired hand through her hair and gives a long yawn, "The first day's usually the worst in this sort of thing. The spike of numbers will go down later on... and it'll be manageable."
"Uh, we aren't staying that long so... are you planning on holding the fort here alone?" Tressa lifts her head up to stare at Odette in shock.
"Who else is going to do this?" Odette gives a tired scoff, "But don't worry. After whatever happened, people will be bleeding out of here to greener pastures."
"What about you though?" Ophilia looks to the scholar, "You won't be staying, will you?"
"I have my degree recognized across all of the continent. Compared to an uneducated miner, I will probably be fine," Odette waves a hand dismissively. It was too hot so she eventually took off her gloves, showing her whiter hands that did not get as exposed to sun often. Some of her fingers have old cuts still from days when she leafed through tomes for days on end.
"That's a real tough job. Real cool of you to keep at it, though," Tressa sighs and stretches, "I think I'll just stick to my day job of being the best merchant! One day of accounting and administrating is enough for me!"
"It's not that different from when I did archive work back in the Academy... I went through more paper then than now, even," Odette smirks at the memory.
"Alright, thank you all for your efforts!" Primrose comes out of Odette's borrowed kitchen with cups of water for them all, "Hm? Where'd Therion go?"
"Oh, he bailed once the last guy left. Probably went back to the inn to relax," Tressa shrugs as she takes her cup, "You and Therion really helped out, too!"
"You were a real people person, Primrose!" Ophilia smiles to the dancer affably. Primrose returns it with a token smile.
"So, you guys leaving the Cliftlands soon?" Odette sips her water quietly.
"Oh yeah... Because of how hectic everything is, I didn't plan my next steps yet," Tressa pauses.
"I still need to travel south to the Riverlands. The first stop is Saintsbridge," Ophilia looks toward the lantern hanging from her staff at her side.
"Oh, I forgot, you're the bearer of the sacred flame this vicennia," Odette glances over, "Congratulations."
"Oh, thank you!" Ophilia blushes, "Well, uhm... if there is anything else we can help with though, I would like to oblige!"
"I'll let you know if that's needed. But you guys should go clean up for the day," Odette looks out to the orange horizon of near twilight, "You guys have wounded to care for, too."
"Alright, thanks again, Odette..." Tressa stands and stretches, "For, uh, helping us clean up that whole shebang."
"Right," Odette sighs and replaces her gloves, "I guess Quarrycrest owes you guys its thanks anyway, even if you did cause this hectic craziness."
"Huh?" Tressa blinks.
"Quarrycrest was never meant to last. Morlock would've just drained the mountain dry and ran off with all the profit, leaving the people to fend for themselves in another ghost town-to-be," Odette drains her cup and lets it clunk back down on her desk, "At least this way, more of them have what it takes to get out of here instead of being stranded."
She adds, with a sly smirk on the side, "Plus, he was a dick."
Primrose chuckles. For a second there, she took a small liking to the blunt scholar.
"Well... I know I still got a lot to learn. But I don't think Morlock was right at all," Tressa says thoughtfully as she packs up, "Merchants don't have to be crooked to make a pretty leaf. We can make our customers happy without exploiting people."
"That's a good way to think, even if you might be in the minority," Odette shrugs, "If you do end up being best merchant, maybe you can change everything."
"Hey, that's true!" Tressa perks up at the encouraging thought.
"Now, now, getting best merchant at all is a tall order already, ignoring changing the world," Primrose giggles.
"I … think it's nice to have such a goal," Ophilia smiles warmly.
…
Olberic opens his eyes a crack just as the party is all gathering back up at the inn. He feels a cooling wetness on his forehead and a gumminess on his lips. He closes his eyes again almost immediately before his head swims. He can hear Tressa announcing her entry clearly. Wincing, he blinks repeatedly until he is adjusted enough to keep his eyes half-open. Alfyn eventually comes back into view.
"Hey, ol' Berg!" Alfyn gives a jolly grin, "Good to see you're up!"
"Mh..."
"Oop, don't move, don't worry. We're all just settling down ourselves..." Alfyn brings a wet sponge to the warrior's lips so he can sip, "If the nausea's still up, just close your eyes."
"I... I can manage..." Olberic groans a bit as he sits up, making Alfyn jump a bit. The warrior stills his swimming head with a hand, "How... how many days was it... Where am I?"
"Uhh, well, you slept through about a day, I guess? We only got you back just around yesterday night! Are you sure you're alright?" Alfyn asks worriedly, "You lost a lotta blood down there, ol' Berg..."
"Ah, glad to see you back among the living, dear warrior," Primrose says as she pokes her head in, "How are you feeling?"
"... Like I had been held in a vice grip and squeezed like a mere fruit until nearly a husk," Olberic sighs. He looks down at the bandages on his body where the pipes had perforated his skin to drain him dry. With an inscrutable expression, he clenches his fists.
"Well, just to catch you up, the others know now, about who you really are," Primrose enters, arms folded over her chest, "The madman who did this to you apparently did as well. So... they're just a little confused on whether to call you Olberic or Berg now."
"I kinda like callin' ya ol' Berg," Alfyn chuckles, "It's like halfway, you know?"
"Makes him sound like an old timer," Therion says from outside the room.
Before Olberic can give any reply, there is a loud grumble from his stomach. He definitely felt weaker than he ever had in the last few months at that moment.
"Hahaha, we should let him refuel a bit before discussing such trivial matters," Primrose giggles, "Such a long rest is bound to leave on famished."
"Oh, yeah! We'll bring plenty of grub from the inn!" Alfyn rolls up his sleeves.
"Nay, I … I can walk... And I am in sore need of a wash," Olberic sighs as he moves to get out of bed.
In the other room, Tressa blabbers on about how the day at the office was, while counting out some money for planning ahead on expenses and some payments. Ali was well enough to leave Olberic's room and go see the eager merchant in H'aanit's room.
"... So, we should be good for some time if we need to rest up more. I don't love working the crowds in the line as much as selling, but I mean, we got time to spare since we have injured anyway," Tressa yammers on as she sits, pretzel-legged on the floor, with coins before her in stacks.
"Guess you're doing your dues a bit, huh?" Ali rubs his nose.
"Indeed..." Cyrus sighs, changing out of his cape, "It was a rather exhaustive survey, but we had managed to luckily cover and document the entirety of the rooms Gideon was using, as well as all his notes and machinery..."
"I guess it was an interesting day for all of us," Ophilia softly smiles. H'aanit reaches up from her position lying in bed to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, much to her surprise, "Huh?"
"...Thou aren tired, no?" The huntress gives a small smile herself to the cleric.
"Ahaha, it's fine! I feel good that we could do something," The cleric lightly pats her hand, "Are you feeling better?"
"Aye. I hath walked today."
"Eh! Already?"
"Maybe don't coddle her so much, sister," Therion scoffs, standing by the door, "She's about as strong as the bull next door."
"Hey, guys!" Alfyn walks out from the other room, along with the dancer and Olberic, who has washed and changed into some casual clothes, "What say you guys we go get a bite to eat! It's been a while!"
"Great, purse strings here can pay," Therion smirks at Tressa.
"Wha-?!"
"Ah, shucks, it's my treat!" Ali guffaws, "I can't be relying on Green Pea and her bunch the whole time! Consider it my thanks!"
The nine of them make their way to the tavern. The pub owner doesn't bat an eye at the large party, seeing as his place didn't have that much business at the moment anyway. He doesn't even mind Linde and Hägen, so long as the party orders.
"You're all from out of town, hm?" He passes over ample tankards overflowing with ale.
"Yep!" Alfyn grins, "Thanks!"
"This place is probably just a stopover for you all, right? No one comes to Quarrycrest to stay," The owner gives a wry smile.
"Hm? What about you, sir?" Ophilia looks to him with her cup of water.
"Hmm, good question, dear sister," He chuckles, stroking his shaven chin, "I suppose I was a bit of a wanderer. Then, I thought to settle here of all places."
"So then, someone did come to stay," Primrose gives a suggestive smile.
"I suppose. I'm a bit of a storyteller by trade. You hear all sorts of tales pass through with the workers and whatnot... I suppose once that runs dry, I will leave as well."
"Stories? So, you're like a bard?" Tressa looks up from her conversation with Ali on investment futures.
"Of sorts. I've been told I was pretty good at telling people stories they needed," The owner chuckles and looks to Cyrus, Primrose, Therion, Tressa, and Alfyn, "Listening to you five talking last night was very interesting."
"Aw, shucks!" Alfyn chuckles.
"Do take a chair and join us, if you wish," Olberic looks up from his potatoes.
"Hmm, maybe until the night picks up," The owner chuckles and pulls over a stool.
"Is it normally so quiet as last night and today?" Cyrus sips his drink at his own pace.
"Well, most people do day business, finish, drink, go home. People who might normally stay late don't have the coin," The owner shrugs, "A common thread through multiple stories."
Therion scoffs as he chugs.
"Anyways... How about I tell a story or two?" The owner offers.
"Oh? Interesting," Primrose gauges him carefully. She had seen her share of storytellers who were either just drunk fakes or enigmatic gurus. This man is no mystic, for sure. He looks fairly trim and orderly, with combed-back black hair, scratchy chin, and a few scars with history, no doubt.
"Alright, I'm all ears!" Alfyn chuckles.
"Okay, this one is a bit of a recent tale I heard off the road recently..." The owner presses his fingertips together, "There's talks of some new illnesses in the area of the Coastlands."
Tressa's fork freezes halfway to her mouth.
"It's nothing like the plagues before... yet. People fall ill with chills and fevers... it's heaviest in Goldshore. The church there is losing favor with the locals because they don't seem too invested in taking care of things..." The owner says without betraying personal emotion, "It's a strange thing, isn't it? Goldshore is a common retreat villa for many figures of influence, halfway between two capital cities of Trade in the Coastlands... and yet they have this chilling fever of all things. Could be the start of a new Great Pestilence."
"A fever and chills?" Alfyn folds his arms, looking rather in thought. Therion could see the gears turning in his headstrong brain.
"The church isn't responding?" Ophilia looks to the owner with apprehension, "But... it is their duty by the flame! There must be a reason..."
"Don't be so sure, dearie," Primrose looks at her nails idly, "It wouldn't be the first time they've overlooked misdeeds in their midst."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ophilia looks to the dancer a bit pointedly at the comment, "That's not what the church is supposed to do."
Primrose scoffs and Therion gives his own shrug.
"Anyway, aside from that lovely story," The thief digresses, "You hear anything about precious stones?"
Therion's own search for the dragonstones in the area turned up with nothing. He had looted purses and listened around. The stones were stolen from the Ravuses, not excavated. Morlock's mansion also didn't have anything on that. People spoke of gold. As far as Therion recalled, the stones he was looking for were ruby, emerald, and gold. He had seen the size of that sapphire one. If someone had a hunk that big, it would be the talk of the town usually.
"Hmm... I suppose you must have been lured here as many others have by the old myth of the mines?" The owner looks to Therion with a sympathetic smile, "Unfortunately, by now, you must know it is hardly true anymore."
"Tsk," Therion sips his ale.
"However, I have heard some tales about traders betwixt the High and Coastlands. The traders have goods that would include stones precious beyond imagination. The Highlands also has its share of untouched history that draws archaeological finds. These two trades may produce something precious like what you seek, hm?"
Therion mulls that idea over a little. That would roughly place him back where he was before the boat ride, wouldn't it? Good gods he was tiring of this goose chase.
"Hmm, that is very interesting..." Primrose looks to the owner, "It seems you do have a way with tales as you claim."
"Aye. Could I interest you in one, fair lass?"
"Flattered," Primrose bats her eyes.
"Hmm... Ah, in the Highlands, further into the heart, by, oh, give or take, Stonegard... There was a blockade imposed on the road there headed north. Supposedly, there was a band of darkly dressed men there, up to no good. One of the witnesses swear they saw the leader had a marking on their arm. That of a raven."
Primrose freezes. Therion side-eyes her reaction.
"...Is … that so...?" The dancer manages.
"Oh, have I said something upsetting?" The owner blinks innocently.
"No, no, not at all..." Primrose suddenly drinks deeply from her tankard, shocking some of the men there at her ability, "Ahh, that's good ale."
"I-I say, you might be able to best me in a drinking bout!" Cyrus laughs.
"Ya do seem like a lightweight, Cy!" Alfyn laughs.
"How is the soup, H'aanit?" Ophilia looks to the huntress beside her. H'aanit merely nods, wolfing down bread with her bowl of stew.
"Let me think if there is anything else... Hmm..." The owner props his head up on an arm and closes his eyes, "There was a band of hunters and knights that passed in the near area east of here maybe around the time of the last moon. Last I heard, they took a boat from Bolderdrop up here. They didn't stay long before moving south again. They were headed for the Highlands in pursuit of something that was moving fast, much like a gale over the land. Some sort of beast..."
H'aanit pauses with the spoon in her mouth.
"Pray tell, how many of these stories may be true?" Olberic looks to the owner, putting down his empty bowl.
"Well, tales all have a mix of truth and fantasy, no? If one is curious, they only need wander and they'll see for themselves," The owner shrugs.
"... That is sound advice," The warrior thinks.
"Speaking of the Coastlands... Say, Green Pea, you ever hear of the grand auction of Grandport?" Ali looks to the merchant girl.
"Huh? Uhh... Maybe?" Tressa tries not appear totally clueless, "It's a … big event, right?"
"She's clueless," Therion mutters under his breath as he drains his ale.
"It's the biggest gathering of merchant pride in the continent! Merchants from all over will be gathering to display their greatest treasure. You enter yourself into the contest with it and hope your treasure is the one picked to be the treasure above all treasure!" Ali says passionately, "I've been looking far and wide on my sales journey for stuff that'll really wow the judges!"
"A merchant contest? How intriguing!" Cyrus rubs his chin, "I can only imagine the amount of variety...! Precious artifacts and such must frequently appear..."
"That is quite the grand tale," The owner chuckles, "But it won't be on for a good while, right? So, people are still scrambling to pull together a decent treasure entry."
Tressa had more or less stopped listening after Ali finished. All that is reflected in her eyes now is pure, raw determination. This is her chance to beat Ali at a real competition! He may have gotten the better of her back in the market, but this is a real challenge!
"I'm going!" Tressa announces.
"Do you even have any idea what you're entering, short stack," Therion sighs, "You literally just heard about this."
"Shaddap, I have time! But I'm definitely going!" Tressa puffs out her chest with mild pride, "And I'll have an awesome entry, you'll see! I won't lose!"
"Heh, good to see you're so eager, even if I'm gonna take the grand prize!" Ali rubs his chin smugly. Tressa pokes his sore arm and he yelps, "Ack- That's dirty!"
"... Tavern master," Olberic looks to the tavern owner.
"Please, call me Pequod."
"Alright, Pequod. Do you know anything of a warrior named Gustav?"
"Gustav? Hmm... Now that does ring a bell..." Pequod scratches his ill-shaven chin thoughtfully, "I believe that's the true name of the warrior with the alias of the Black Knight."
"Black Knight? How ominous," Cyrus folds his arms, "I do hope your interest in this figure isn't malevolent, Sir Olberic."
"Sir Olberic?" Pequod blinks.
Tressa elbows Cyrus hard in the ribs, "Oh no, did you hit your head down in the sewers, professor?"
"What- AGH!" The scholar shuts up.
"Ignore that. Do continue, dear Pequod," Primrose smiles sweetly to distract the owner from what he just heard. Olberic's name might be lost on many common folks. However, this man seems to know a thing or two about legends and stories. He might know the Unbending Blade that should have perished.
"... Anyway, the Black Knight is a prize fighter, I hear. I don't know where he is, but I do know he is said to have hailed from the eastern Highlands."
"So... near Stonegard or in that area..." Olberic folds his arms. It seems that, once again, he will be heading back to his homeland.
"You all sound like you more or less might be going in the way of the southeast," Pequod folds his arms and chuckles, "I wish you all luck on that. If you're lucky, you might be able to catch a boat from Bolderdrop to expedite going around Middlesea. Now that's a hassle."
"Oh..." Ophilia realizes what he just said. She is bound, however, for the Riverlands...
"Well, I have yet to fully glean my next destination. I will need to speak with Odette in the morning," Cyrus clears his throat, recovering from Tressa's jab.
"Well, I wish you all luck, then, adventurers. The roads these days are treacherous without friends... Maybe you will have a tale to share with me if we meet again," Pequod stands now and collects some of their empty drink tankards, "I'll be back with some refills."
"... close one," Tressa sighs before shooting Cyrus an annoyed look. The scholar clears his throat again and looks apologetic.
"Forgive my slip of the tongue," He sighs, hanging his head.
"... It is of little import," Olberic gives a soft sigh, "I feel as if a burden has been lifted somewhat, now that all of you know."
"Hehe, guess I'll get to market that I'm a merchant who knows the great Olberic!" Tressa snickers.
"You don't even know what he's famous for," Therion rolls his eye.
"Hahaha, it's like old wives tale stuff!" Alfyn laughs and claps the thief on the back, "We didn't know either!"
"Anyway, so, what are you guys going to do?" Ali looks around the table at the adventurers, "I've got my route plotted out as it is."
"Well... Hmm..." Tressa rubs her chin, "The tavern master did mention there was precious stuff down near the Highlands and Coastlands... so I guess I'm rounding back up there? Maybe the Highlands. Change of scenery, hehe."
"..." Therion keeps quiet as he waits for a refill. He would probably end up going the same way. And, if the dancer's reaction told anything...
"Stonegard," Primrose says curtly.
"I as well," Olberic finishes the last of his food, "Though... I must admit I may need to recuperate my strength more..."
"That's no problem! We all could use a break...!" Alfyn grins, "I gotta take care of you and H'aanit!"
"And then it's off to the Coastlands with you, right?" Therion gives him a knowing look on the side.
"Ah, haha..." Alfyn rubs the back of his neck, "Well, Stonegard is, like, near the Coastlands, right? I'll tag along!"
"I wille goen on towards the rock lands as well," H'aanit sighs as she finishes her bowl of stew.
"What about you, Therion?" Alfyn nudges the thief.
"That's a secret," Therion grunts.
"He'll probably be joining us," Primrose smirks knowingly.
"Haha, great!" Alfyn wraps an arm around the thief's shoulder.
"That leaves just Cyrus then," Primrose glances at Ophilia, "You already have a set destination, right?"
"O-oh, yes..." Ophilia averts her eyes downward. Her timid demeanor made Primrose want to scoff a little.
"Yes, I need to discuss with Odette what she may have discovered about the book in question. Having a copy of those pages from Gideon will be of great aid, I believe," Cyrus nods affirmatively, "It would be a coincidental windfall if my path once again coincides with you all, haha."
"Well, looks like you guys got more or less a good deal of sea and road ahead," Ali rubs his nose, "I'm off in the morning, so I'll probably smell you guys later."
"Huh? Where' you going?" Tressa looks at Ali as he stands to leave, "Aren't you gonna eat some more?"
"Nah. I had a good beer. I'll pack my stuff and get outta your room," Ali affixes his headband, "Can't be relying on the good graces of a rival all the time!"
He walks up to the counter where the tavern keeper is refilling the tankards and puts down a satchel of leaves to pay for the adventurer's meals. Then, with a wave and a smile, he leaves.
"... Well, he turned out to be a more charming person than I thought," Primrose chuckles.
"Hmf," Therion contentedly takes a new tankard when Pequod brings them over, "Runs his mouth."
"He paid a good deal so you guys should be good for some more rounds and food. Ready to order?" Pequod smiles to the table.
"Yes please!" Alfyn shouts.
…
The next morning, Olberic is out early training. He had to regain his lost muscle over his captivity period, he insisted. H'aanit and the beasts are out for a run, as per her usual excuse when injured. Ophilia sighs as she goes to accompany Cyrus to Odette's office.
The female scholar is taking a small nap at her desk when she is awakened by the knocking at her door. Odette grumpily sits up and yawns.
"Coming, coming..." She opens the door to see Ophilia and Cyrus there, "... Oh, it's you."
"Oh, good morning!" Ophilia quickly bows.
"Good morning, Odette!" Cyrus says cheerily, not registering her disappointment at all, "Might you be free? I need to discuss the whole incident with you."
"... Sure, why not. A deal's a deal," Odette sighs and lets them in, "Do either of you want any tea?"
"O-oh, no thank you..." Ophilia smiles.
"Well, have a seat. I need my daily pickup," Odette goes to the kitchen area to brew her usual chicory.
Cyrus sits down rather obliviously at Odette's desk, waiting. Ophilia stands a bit longer until she realizes Odette's brewing takes a while. She ends up sitting next to Cyrus. She hadn't noticed it before amid all their heckling, but Odette had a nice house.
"... Alright, then," Odette comes over and sits behind her desk with a hot drink in hand, "You want to ask about the ancient tome, right?"
"Indeed!" Cyrus says enthusiastically.
"Did you need a babysitter to walk you here?" Odette smirks and points to the cleric.
"Surely you jest, Odette! My days as a toddler are long behind me!" Cyrus says that in complete seriousness, the joke having clearly flown over his head.
"... Anyway," Odette rolls her eyes at the sorry excuse of morning entertainment, "The copy you found off that madman Gideon is indeed a translated pamphlet from the original book. The rituals are distinctly from the section talking about blood magic."
"Not a lot of people, I would wager, could compile something like that. However, if it was from the original, then tracing this copy might yield the answer..?" Cyrus rubs his chin, deep in thought.
"From the pages that made up the pamphlet, I've narrowed it down to the pulp and page production in Stonegard," Odette leans back and eyes the scholar, "I suspect you'll be running there next."
"Stonegard... But of course!" Cyrus looks up, "That area of the Highlands provides the perfect temperature to create the special grained pages! I had thought the texture rather unique when I held it! The trees in that area, you see, are unique in that-"
"We don't need a lecture on the beeches there," Odette sighs, "There aren't that many binderies in Stonegard, but you will have to find out which one actually created this abomination."
As she says that, she pulls out the sheaf of bloody paper and lets it fall onto her desk with a thud.
"I don't envy you for this, either, Cyrus," Odette folds her arms with a smirk, "Take care of him on the road, sister cleric. He'll need it."
"Well, so long as there is a destination, I am perfectly content to reach for it!" Cyrus exclaims as he goes to heft the papers. He ends up dropping a few pages and stumbles to pick them up. He nearly drops the entire bundle, had Ophilia not swooped in to still the paper spillage.
"Ah, thank you, Ophilia..." Cyrus sighs in relief, "And you are mistaken, Odette. Ophilia is not headed for the Highlands!"
"Oh, right, you're going for..."
"S-Saintsbridge..." Ophilia mutters.
"... Oh. Hmm..." Odette turns pensive, "That might be a bit of an issue."
"Huh?" The cleric looks up.
"Late last night, the bridge to the south collapsed. Casualties were luckily low, but that pretty much means you can't reach the Riverlands easy anymore until its fixed," Odette folds her arms, "They're pretty sure it was monster attacks, which makes that route complicated even if the bridge wasn't an issue."
"O-oh dear..." Ophilia grips her staff, now definitely troubled, "But... I have to get to Saintsbridge..."
"Theoretically, you could ride out a boat maybe to the Sunland port and go by foot to the Riverlands. But boats from here usually only go to the Coastlands," Odette sighs, "Routes and all."
"Well, my dear, why not head first to Goldshore?" Cyrus pipes up as he puts the voluminous pile together, "That is another stop on the route for the Kindling, no?"
"That's not a bad idea, surprisingly from you, Cyrus," Odette blinks, "There isn't a particular mandated order to the Kindling locations, after all."
"Well, that is true... I suppose..." Ophilia thinks a moment. She had been rather set on Saintsbridge since that's what she and Lianna often talked about. The pontiff more or less wasn't very strict about where she was to go.
"And then you can make the round trip back through the southern rim of Middlesea with us through the Highlands!" Cyrus smiles.
"I... yes, that would be nice..." Ophilia gives a small smile. In truth, she should probably push to get to the closer Riverlands rather than run back to the Coastlands. But this was a convenient excuse to go and see more of the vast lands. She reasons that, alone, she would likely never make it down to Saintsbridge either. She silently thanks the gods for giving her a reason to inadvertently be able to stay with this funny group a bit longer... and a certain huntress in particular...
"Well, sounds like you guys are about set. You should make arrangements to set off as soon as possible if you're going to be using a boat from Bolderdrop. If you go by land... well, that's frankly just a lot of ground to cover... and that's the direction you came from anyways, correct?"
"Yes, though one might argue that familiar ground can be traversed much quicker than new territory!" Cyrus stands, "Nonetheless, I will take your advice to heart, dear Odette! And I must thank you for having aided me in this endeavor!"
"Right, right... Just don't go too crazy looking for a book of all things, Cyrus," Odette sighs, "A book is a book, no matter how magical. You, on the other hand, are an amusing knucklehead that would be hard to replace."
Ophilia blinks at Odette's words. She hadn't given it much thought before, but Odette and Cyrus seemed to get along despite his oblivious nature and her crass tone.
I suppose she does care for him, Ophilia smiles to herself. Cyrus, however, was dense as ever.
Dang I forgot to update this at the end of the month. Apologies.