Therion obviously wasn't going to spill his guts out like some sappy sinner overcome with gratitude from being pardoned at the gallows. He's still pretty much his grumpy self after agreeing to the worries of the party. He doesn't tell them much about the Ciannos or what they want with him, despite Tressa's insistence. He also is mum about the dragonstones he seeks. At the very least, he does admit he didn't have a real destination … well, sort of.
"Did you actually mean to go to Noblecourt?" Primrose asks him with a sort of cheeky smile, as if she knows the answer. She currently is watching the thief while Alfyn is dragged by the others to go get some fresh air and food outside. Ophilia is also in the room, just in case of a medical emergency.
"..." Therion can't move too much, per apothecary orders. Otherwise, he would have turned over and drawn the blanket over himself to ignore the dancer.
"What do you mean, Primrose?" Ophilia tilts her head.
"Well... he may have told us he had a goal at Noblecourt, but that doesn't mean he actually was going to go. It's a bit of an excuse bluff," Primrose chuckles and lightly teases tufts of Therion's hair sticking up on his head, "You'd been searching for something the whole time we'd been traveling together, haven't you? Had you actually found a lead, or were you just trying to get rid of us?"
Therion's face is unamused with her tomfoolery. He sorely wishes someone else other than the dancer had remained to watch him.
"Oh, if he's looking for something... why not ask the sage up north?" Ophilia suggests, "Sir Berg mentioned he was going to be venturing up there to seek advice as well."
"Well, I'm still skeptical of this Grotoff person as suggested by H'aanit's master... But yes, why not?" Primrose looks to the thief, "Maybe you'll find a definitive answer in the most unexpected of places."
Therion's eye averts elsewhere. The dancer can tell his gears are grinding. As it stands, there is safety in numbers. She is confident in her guess also, that he hasn't fully ascertained exactly where he needs to go.
"I think it's a good idea," Ophilia nods, "I do believe that... the route to Stillsnow won't be passing through Flamesgrace..."
"Hmm, yes, it would be too much of a detour to stop there. Especially with pesky snowstorms, I hear," Primrose shrugs, "That being said, Tressa will have to pack well for us since we won't be able to stop for provisions in town on the way then."
"Hmm... Richard's house is closer on the way, if needed..." Ophilia thinks a second, "I'd never been further north than that point, though."
"It will be quite a new experience," The dancer smiles on the side, glancing to the recalcitrant thief, "For many of us."
Therion just scoffs.
"If you have nothing to contribute to the conversation, just sleep, dear Therion," Primrose's smile is strangely soft and she playfully tousles that head of white hair. Therion isn't wholly receptive to that touch and closes his eyes with an irritated expression. If he were well enough to move, he would have normally swatted that hand away.
However, part of him did not mind the dancer's touch.
…
Alfyn downs another tankard of beer and lets out a loud exhale of satisfaction from the refreshment. Simeon, Tressa, Olberic, H'aanit, and Cyrus all occupy the bar as well. The scholar has a mug of mulled wine while Tressa got water. She claims it's for price reasons. H'aanit and Olberic both have mead, while Simeon orders sour wine after seeing the other prices for a dry red or white.
"Nothing like a nice beer after an all-nighter!" The apothecary heartily chuckles and wipes his face of any foam, "Thanks for taking me out, you guys?"
"Why, it would have been dreadful if you overworked yourself!" Simeon chuckles. The playwright takes a small sip of his wine. Despite his attempts to maintain his composure, his face ends up screwing up a bit, "... That ... is... sour."
"See! What good is that?" Tressa sips her water with superiority, "And mine is almost free!"
"Drinking is a sign of maturity, you will find," Olberic drinks from his own, "Though, drink has also the ability to change men into the silliest of children..."
"Thou speaketh rightfully so," H'aanit looks down at her own schooner, "There aren many a man that hath fallen to the wiles of suche drink."
She thinks with some regret back on the times when Z'aanta had gotten drunk. The man was very raucous and reckless naturally, so to combine with drink is a deadly combination. He would challenge people to archery contests and gamble even worse than usual. Linde seems to cover her face at those memories under her stool.
"Eh, that's a load of hooey to scam buyers!" Tressa declares, "My pa would always get yelled at by my ma for falling for that plain old trick! There's nothing wrong with a cup of water!"
"It is indeed interesting to note that, among some cultures, it is bad luck to cheers only with water. Therefore, at least one person had to buy something more expensive, be it alcohol or juice," Cyrus rubs his chin, "I must admit, Tressa, you make a very good point... Did the superstition precede the business practice? Or was it a part of the latter all along..."
"It's impressive how he can say something on every subject..." Simeon chuckles, "You seem interested in just about anything professor."
"Well, knowledge is a very important thing, and we must never stop learning, my fellow reader!" Cyrus declares, "Whether it's the arts or the sciences, tis a never-ending quest of the scholar to learn it all, if only a little!"
"Honestly, I do believe you to be even more zealous about this than even Alephan himself sometimes..." Olberic sips his drink, "Mind you, I mean that to be a compliment. I myself have a high regard for scholars."
"Ahh, no offense taken, my good man!" Cyrus brushes back some of his bangs, "The life and path of knowledge, however, is not so simple. I fear it may be what led Yvon and Lucia to conduct themselves as they did... for them... knowledge was too precious to even be taught or shared. That is a horrible thing."
"Gee, that's deep, Cy," Alfyn grins and elbows the scholar a little, "I don't get that either! It's great to learn a ton from people willing to teach! Plus, you can help more people that way, can't ya?"
"Unfortunately, the aims are not always so benevolent as yours, sir Alfyn," Simeon sighs, "There are far more selfish desires... Sometimes, knowledge in the wrong hands proves far worse than you think. Selection isn't a tool to be shirked."
"It is unfortunate, but that sort of thinking would only serve to hinder the growth of people," Cyrus argues in reply, "There was a time in the Academy history, for example, when people who were not native to the Flatlands were not considered eligible to learn from our institution. It was set largely on personal prejudices, and it did nothing to better relations."
"It's kinda like trading then...!" Tressa pipes up, though really only half-listening, "We always say, the more the merrier! You get a bigger mix of the pot, and everyone can find something they want!"
H'aanit doesn't seem too interested in the conversation, merely drinking. She puts down her empty tankard.
"Oh, would you like another?" The bartender sidles over.
"... Nay. I cannen not partaken too much," H'aanit sighs, "Tis doth dullen the senses."
"Aw, you can relax a bit, H'aanit!" Alfyn gives a jolly laugh, "We're in the city and all...!"
"Twas in the very streets here that Therion weren attacked," H'aanit reminds him, "We musten stayeth alert."
"Hmm... pray tell, how are the local crime statistics here, Cyrus?" Simeon looks to Cyrus.
"Huh? Well..." Cyrus holds his chin as he thinks, "That is something I have not been keeping up with, unfortunately. My studies usually have to do with things that have been written in tomes... in fact, I often neglect to listen to the crier or even fetch a paper... Well, it also is a paid expense that I would much rather allocate to books."
"Of course," Tressa rolls her eyes, "You and your one true love, Cyrus."
"Hmm... Alfyn, forgive me for sounding hasty," Olberic looks to the apothecary, "How much longer do you think Therion will need to recover? How much longer will we be waiting in this city?"
"Well, uhh... good question..." Alfyn folds his arms for a second with a pensive expression, "He's breathing better now, for sure. The wound can be wrapped and held but he can't go too fast or it'd open and bleed all over again... Then again... heh, Therion's a stubborn one."
"You can say that again," Tressa snickers, "Though, maybe he'll twice about going off and doing something stupid on his own!"
"Hmm... I do feel a bit of poetry about the man... it likens him to that of a stray cat... Not the most flattering, I admit, but," Simeon chuckles, "I think it apt, no?"
"A stray kitten... mayhaps," H'aanit smiles off to the side a little. Linde seems to growl softly, almost like a low laugh.
"With very sharp claws," Olberic adds.
"Hmm, I do believe that is a very agreeable poem!" Cyrus exclaims. And they all laugh.
Back at the inn, Therion suddenly has a sneezing fit. Ophilia worriedly draws the covers over the thief, thinking him cold.
...
Therion ends up half-consenting to the dancer's suggestion. So, it was announced that they would all be heading to Stillsnow as their next destination. As such, Tressa gets right to stocking up for the cold. Dried goods are not a hard necessity, but they are likely to last longer in frigid temperature than items with water content, as those would freeze.
"How about a potato?" Alfyn looks around the market with Tressa. He then instantly gets distracted looking at some new herb in the marketplace, "Ohh! What's that?"
"Why, good eye, sir! That is a frog eye root! See, it's got a purple center, and-"
"Alf, keep your brain off grass for one second!" Tressa exclaims as she drags the apothecary away from that stall, "Geez, I hope H'aanit is doing alright with the money I gave her..."
The merchant trusted H'aanit to secure additional furs for their journey, since they would not be hiring a snow vehicle. The routes up north would require a very expensive guide and wagon equipped to tread the snow. Tressa reasoned that they could do just as well on their own at the same speed, much to the skepticism of the others. But, since Tressa had the monies, they couldn't really argue.
H'aanit looks with scrutiny over the items at the furrier. The shorter clerk looks intimidated as the tall huntress stares intensely at the furs. Not to mention that she has a giant carnivorous cat following her around.
"Thou sayeth this be'en from the ratkin of the northern forests?" H'aanit runs her hand along the pelt.
"W-why yes... Genuine forest ratkin fur..." The clerk wipes a bit of sweat off his face.
"Hmm... T'will not suffice for the cold..." The huntress sighs, "Haven thee bear pelt?"
"Erm, well, I am expecting a hunter to come by in a few days for me to source. If you don't mind waiting, you c-"
The huntress just walks out of the store with Linde, leaving the clerk wiping their brow. Olberic was waiting outside.
"No luck?" The warrior looks to her.
H'aanit shakes her head, "The wares here be'en suited for such skies... nary for the deep snows."
"I do not doubt my own clothes, nor yours... But I do worry for some that are traveling with us..." Olberic sighs, thinking of the dancer in her skimpy dress, "Tressa did save some of the furs from our last trip near Flamesgrace... I just wonder if that is enough."
"Aye, and we also have Simeon travelen with us," H'aanit nods.
"Hmm..." Olberic looks at some of the hides that are tanning for display, "Maybe he can wear some of these over his jacket?"
"Tis a horrible idea," H'aanit points at the hides, "Tis mere goat. T'would not keepen thee warm enough than even wool. But tis sturdy as a base, see?"
"Wool... certainly sounds cheaper than beast skin," A lightbulb goes off in Olberic's head, "Mayhaps we find a general trade post instead."
"Hmm, I doth agree'n."
...
The day is spent running around a bit. For Cyrus, he had to finish finalizing his secondary report to the board, as well as straightening any loose ends with the Academy. The secondary report answers any inquiries with his first, and includes any details he may have missed the first time. To his surprise, King Osred II greets him when he enters to deliver his new report with the board.
"I declare, scholar Albright!" Osred II smiles, "I have heard many things."
"Your majesty!" Cyrus immediately bows in respect.
Behind Osred II, princess Mary dutifully shadows her father. She gives a polite smile and waves to the professor.
"Rise, scholar Albright," Osred II chuckles, "You are far too formal. I come to speak with you as an equal in academia."
"I... I am honored in your presence," Cyrus says, somewhat nervous for once. His words do not stop, but they also don't form as fluidly as they normally might, "So... whatever brings your majesty here to this, erm, symposium... ah, no, that's not the right term. I meant to say lecture, but that's hardly correct..."
"Testimony, perhaps?" Osred II volunteers, "You are a diligent man and an inspiration to all in your field, scholar Albright."
Now that makes Cyrus a bit more speechless. He stares for a good long second at the king. The other board members in the room look a bit begrudging at the comment, but make no remark as to its accuracy.
"Thanks to your efforts, we uncovered a great ill that was going on within the walls of our valued institution," Osred II smiles, "You were very brave, having risked your life in doing so."
"Your majesty... I was not alone in my efforts. As the board in this room heard, my student, Therese, was also among the fray..." The scholar clears his throat, "And, of course, I have met many companions that aided my quest... which has yet to end as of now. I still have yet to recover the tome... and Lucia."
"Ah yes, Yvon's assistant..." Osred II's brow creases slightly, "You must be setting off soon, then?"
"As soon as possible! I merely came to submit my formal account," Cyrus shows the thick sheaf of papers he is carrying, "I documented all that I observed in Quarrycrest and Stonegard in these pages for the ongoing review. I was unsure if a simple search of Yvon and Lucia's quarters would yield sufficient evidence, since I suspected they might have cleansed their closets a bit."
"Hmm. Yes, very wise, scholar Albright," Osred II nods and has an aide go to collect the papers from Cyrus, "I will be working alongside the board to bring all the truths in this affair to proper light. Princess Mary, also."
Cyrus looks in slight surprise to the girl. She smiles, "This is honestly quite surprising... That I should get to read your submitted work in turn, professor."
"Indeed..." Cyrus chuckles softly.
"This incident will unfortunately leave quite an indelible mark on the Academy, even with rectification. So, we must properly bring all the wrongs to justice," Osred II clenches a hand on the table, "Scholar Albright, I use my authority to grant you access to any means you will need for your trip, including a stipend for your troubles and a pass through the Flatlands."
"Oh, you are far too generous, your majesty..."
"Nonsense. You were dealt a greatly unfair hand, and yet you played deftly," Osred II nods, "Please stop by the main office of records in the Academy and they will hand over your designated stipend and pass. I hope they prove useful... I'm afraid I cannot mobilize troops across all of Orsterra to aid you."
"Oh, I am already well equipped with this much, your majesty!" Cyrus quips, "I shall set off posthaste... and restore the honor due to Atlasdam Academy!"
...
Therion isn't content to be cooped up and lying in bed, no matter what Alfyn says. Even the thief at some point gets tired of just lying around recuperating.
"T-Therion, hold still!" Ophilia chides him as she changes the bandages, "You mustn't be so impatient, or you might reopen your wounds!
The cleric didn't originally know how to wrap bandages. However, she had observed how Natalie did it, and Alfyn as well. So now, she has some knowledge on how to properly bandage up injuries like gashes. Her handiwork is a bit unsteady, but she doesn't give up.
"I'm not moving, it's your hands," Therion scoffs. He resists wincing at the cleric's touch.
"Well, it's quite lively out there...!"
Simeon and Primrose walk into the room, returning from a stroll in the streets. The thief grunts as Ophilia greets them both.
"Simeon, Primrose, welcome back!"
"Ah, in the middle of changing? Forgive the intrusion," Simeon chuckles sheepishly.
"It's not a big deal, Simeon," The dancer chuckles, "You're both men here."
"Uh, so... It's lively out there?" Ophilia tries not to get flustered at Primrose making it an obvious reminder. It wasn't like she had never healed men. But this is her first time dressing one like this.
"Yes, Atlasdam is indeed a city of worldly wonders," Simeon nods, "Primrose even performed a little in the streets. There was a foreigner, a bard from overseas, who had her zither about. I tell you, Prim danced like a dainty flower in the wind. All were spellbound by such grace. Some even tossed her coin!"
"It was just a nice song, really," Primrose sits down on an available chair, "Sometimes, I suppose I still can't help but dance when the situation feels so..."
It had been a long time since she danced on her own whim and not that of others or for survival. She remembered the times she danced for her father. That was when her steps still resonated with her heart. Now, that is a much rarer occurrence.
"That sounds amazing. I'm sorry we couldn't see it..." Ophilia pats Therion's back gently, "Alright, all done! But don't move too hasty now!"
The thief just grumbles and stiffly stands. His step is a little wobbly and Simeon and Ophilia both hurriedly help steady him.
"Ngh..." Therion looks frustrated as a small sweat beads down his face.
"Hmm... Such a small gesture is such exertion for you... Well, Alfyn did say you lost a lot of blood," Primrose folds her arms, "You best eat up before we go to regain some vigor."
"I'm sure Alfyn will procure some great energy foods like he said he would!" Ophilia says optimistically as she helps Therion sit back down.
"Ah yes, I have heard of this philosophy... It's particularly well-rooted in lands to the east. Essentially, the saying goes that 'food is medicine,'" Simeon nods, "Their daily habits can include eating small amounts of medicinal foods, leading to an overall healthier lifestyle."
"Well, with the prices of nuts, pomegranates, olives, and plums, that's not happening," The dancer shrugs.
"We're back!" The boisterous voice of the apothecary can be heard upon entry into the inn. Therion groans and flops back onto the bed, pulling the covers over himself. He has to brace himself for gross energy balls.
"You'll never guess what we got at the market!" Alfyn grins happily as he enters with Tressa, "It's guaranteed to get Therion back on his feet!"
"Oh?" Primrose raises an eyebrow in intrigue.
"It wasn't cheap, lemme tell ya!" Tressa says with a huff, wagging an index finger, "But Alf here suddenly got some sense and it was actually reasonable!"
"Tadaa!" Alfyn holds up a small, purple, ovular-looking thing. Ophilia, Primrose, and Simeon sort of squint at it. On a closer look, it looks like a fruit...
"Is that... a grape?" Simeon tilts his head, "Wow... that is indeed a hefty purchase. It's not those small scrawny sorts. This one is actually sizeable."
"Yep! Here, Therion!" Alfyn goes to feed it to Therion, "Chew it slowly and be sure to swallow the seed. Keep it in your mouth a bit!"
The thief pokes his head out of the blanket a bit to make sure he wasn't being pranked by the others. After seeing the real deal, he takes the grape and proceeds to follow doctor's orders. Tasting that sweet juice, his body already begins to feel better.
"..." He doesn't really thank Alfyn or anything. But Alfyn doesn't mind, instead just looking glad that Therion was feeling better.
"However did he convince you?" Primrose looks to Tressa, "You rarely call him reasonable."
"Well, we're burning daylight dallying in town. It'd be more cost-efficient to buy something that'll help get Therion on the road," Tressa shrugs, "I can earn more money. I'm a merchant! But even the best merchant can't buy back lost time. And time is money!"
"By that logic, isn't time more valuable than money?" Ophilia tilts her head.
"Eer... you get my point!" Tressa huffs, "Anyway, that thing cost a pretty leaf so it better work! Otherwise, that store's gonna be getting it from me!"
"Hmm, I suppose that is sound reasoning. Money for some time... it's such a wonderful sounding theme... For a soliloquy, perhaps..." Simeon ponders now.
"Let's see what H'aanit and Olberic bring back... Ah, and Cyrus as well," The dancer smiles softly, "I think we're about as ready as we can be."
The huntress and warrior bring back wool and treated goat skins to be combined into better winterwear. Tressa isn't thrilled about the purchases, but she is glad they at least had some change left over for her. These had cost less than she projected for the animal furs.
"I guess we gotta do it ourselves a bit..." Tressa examines the skins and sighs, "Well, let's get to it!"
While they get to using an awl to bore holes and bind their newfound wintry clothing, Cyrus comes in with the proud announcement of his recognition by the king himself, which comes with a nice, hefty stipend and some other perks.
"That's wonderful, professor!" Ophilia congratulates him.
"Now, I must see my students one last time before I depart. Therese will likely want to see us all, mayhap," Cyrus nods.
"The lass has classes now, no?" Simeon looks up from threading some of the pelts that were cut into thin strips to use as string.
"Perhaps in the morning then! At breakfast!" The scholar announces.
"Just tell her to meet us at the gate!" Tressa grumbles, "We are not going out of our way to visit their house again!"
...
The party had organized to leave early near dawn the following day. Their winter clothes were sort of ad hoc, but they were sufficiently insulated. At the northern gate of Atlasdam, they gathered to leave for the Frostlands ahead. As promised, Therese shows up. The royal-adjacent has a servant trailing with her this time. Therese looks like she might have rushed from bed to attend this. She sort of did, since this is much earlier than the time she would rise even for morning classes. Regardless, she doesn't show it on her face.
To the surprise of the party, Princess Mary also shows up, with regards from the king.
"Professor, please do have a safe journey," Mary nods with a kind smile.
"Ah, Mary. You and your father can be rest assured that I will not disappoint," Cyrus bows slightly.
Nearby, Therese sort of pouts, puffing one cheek. Primrose sees that and sort of winks as a signal to the student. Therese catches that and looks hesitantly to Cyrus as he turns from Mary.
Now or never...
"P-Professor!"
"Hm?" Cyrus looks to Therese, who's about as red as an apple.
"I... I wish I could travel with you some more... So, please!" Therese squeezes her eyes shut, "Come back safe!"
It's something incredibly corny and simple. There were probably a million other things she could have said. But this was what came out in the end.
Cyrus blinks, either taken aback or just plain surprised at that. But it is only a brief reaction. He then smiles and waves as he turns to go.
"I will most definitely return, Therese. You have my word, both as your professor, and as a man," He says in a very handsomely solemn way. Some people that were merely passing by catch a look at his gesture and face. The women all sort of swoon a bit.
"Oh brother," Tressa rolls her eyes.
"He hath that natural charm fore ... hm," H'aanit frowns. She thinks a moment, perhaps back to Quarrycrest. Then, she also blushes a little and ends up saying nothing. Linde gives a catty wheeze.
"As straightforward as always, professor," Mary chuckles, "I concur with Therese. It simply would not do if you don't return. Your lessons to all of us are invaluable."
"Why, that is high praise. And, of course! I very much intend to continue my teaching! That is for which we would travel!" Cyrus looks to Therese with a blank look of simple expectation, "That is what you meant, yes?"
Therese almost wanted to fall on the floor. She meekly nods in silent assent as yet another gesture flew over the professor's head.
"Poor girl..." Primrose chuckles softly to herself.
"Alas, he truly is what they say... 'book smart' eh?" Simeon chuckles as well.
With the stipend from Cyrus, they decide to hire a drawn wagon to the Frostlands edge. It would cut down on travel time a bit and allow them to rest their legs for the snowy region.
"You alright there, Therion?" Alfyn pokes his head up from loading materials to look at Therion in the wagon backseat.
The thief just scoffs, adjusting the color of his cleaned poncho. The bloodstains luckily came out, though Tressa was pretty steamed at the cost it took to clean at the local washers. Still, she did end up paying for it despite all the griping. Therion wasn't sure why, and he just doesn't think too much about it.
He keeps his attention a bit to his wound. The bandage is holding well, and he doesn't feel any warm leakage. Alfyn advised that the bandaging on the wound might actually feel a bit tight. It's to prevent it from sucking air, he said. The thief has no idea what that really means. Well, so long as it isn't bleeding and he doesn't feel stuff slipping and sliding, it should be fine...
"That is the last of it," Olberic plops on his sturdy duffle bag last on the wagon, "We luckily seem to be quite adept at traveling light..."
As he says that, he looks at the humongous luggage Tressa always carries around. Her items easily make up the largest amount of all their inventory. Somehow, she carries more on her person than many cadets he recalled. And she's someone with no such training.
"... Muscled merchant indeed," He mutters to himself as they leave for the road now.
Cyrus looks back to the north gate of Atlasdam as they ride away. The shapes of the princess and Therese waving to him grow smaller and smaller until they vanish over a hill along the path. And, slowly, so too do the sights of Atlasdam's castle and city walls vanish as well.
"There he goes..." Mary chuckles softly, "Perhaps one of the best professors our Academy has."
Therese nods a little in agreement. Osred II chuckles.
"Oh, did I miss them?"
The two royals turn to see a breathless Mercedes, her hair being the slightest bit frazzled from her usual neat bun.
...
The wagon ride through the Flatlands is an easy day and a half, what with Cyrus' pass and all getting them through the tolls and such. Some meeps and their shaggier adults do make an attempt at the party when the wagon rolls by, but H'aanit was not about to be surprised again by these little menaces.
"Letten us hunten!" The huntress draws her bow and strikes one beast square between the eyes.
"Oh, my! Meeps are actually the supposed ancestor of our domesticated pig, did you know?" Cyrus points out unhelpfully.
"Not NOW, Cyrus!" Tressa grumbles as she shoots with her slingshot to create openings for Olberic to smash through the creatures.
"O-Oh no, there's also froggen!" Ophilia exclaims, seeing some amphibians come to join the fray, "G-God's Eye... shine forth!"
Past the Atlasdam flats, they reach a chilly part of the area that borders the southern edge of the Frostlands and the eastern side of the woodlands. The normal route requires making a long and laborious loop due west, passing through the trails by S'warkii and Victor's Hollow.
Primrose frowns, "Can't we just cut straight across these snows?"
Their driver shakes his head, "Even if you are impatient, missy, might wanna go through the Woodlands just a bit first. The elevation's real steep. It'd leave ya gaspin' in the cold."
Therion sees the displeasure in the dancer's eyes at further detours. But she doesn't seem out of control about it. Just disappointed.
Going through Woodlands is relatively smooth. In general, the party had encountered less issues in the Woodlands thus far compared to other regions. Some ratkin and marmots make out the party for easy targets, only to be surprised when Olberic and H'aanit make short work of them with their combined weapon prowess.
"Striken the points in armor with thine polearm!" H'aanit instructs as she pulls out her axe against a particularly large ratkin.
"Have at you!" Olberic drives Sadiq's spear true.
"Get it off, get it off!" Simeon shrieks as a marmot relentlessly assaults his face. He runs about blindly as their little ride is once again beseiged by monsters.
"Hold still! I'll- umph!" Cyrus takes his book and smacks Simeon in the face as the marmot jumps off, "There!"
"Oof..." Simeon plops on the floor.
"Hold tight!" Alfyn hops over to administer a soothing balm, "That oughta help with any bruising!"
They finish off the wild monster attacks that come their way without sustaining heavy injury. Ophilia wipes her brow of sweat and looks to their driver, "I think we should soon be where we can walk on our own?"
"Aye, just up ahead. Ye can head due north and cut straight to the western Stillsnow wilds," The driver scratches his head, "Ya'll are mighty strong folk. That's good these days, what with how them monsters be actin' up and all..."
Olberic nods somberly. It's a similar tale wherever they go, it seems, like he had overheard back in Rippletide. The monsters have been more active and many things seem to be going wrong. The number of gates is dwindling. Natural disasters cause disruptions in trouble. People are getting desperate. Overall, it is a more dangerous world.
"Well, despite how things appear, we must keep going," Primrose glances around at the local coniferous surroundings.
"Well said, Primrose," Cyrus holds his chin, "We have important duties that we have committed to. It would not do to shirk them."
"Uh-huh..." The driver slowly stops his asses, "Alright, here's about the place. Head north from here, through the trees off trail... and it should be getting chillier. Then you know yer on the right path."
"Thank you, my good man," Cyrus pays the driver the other half of the fee and gets out of the wagon, "Onward we must go, then!"
...
The snow drifts are even higher here than before, in the Flamesgrace wilds they had passed. Tressa is bundled tight in her little fur coat, making her appear like a furry little human carrying a large load through the snow. While such an image is hilarious, it is also impressive.
Therion largely uses his poncho to brave the cold, though H'aanit and Olberic did buy enough material for everyone. So, he wrapped his arms and legs in some of the wool. He walks a bit ahead of the others easily. The chill feels like it actually helps with his injuries, weirdly enough.
Alfyn wears a wrapping of both goatskin and wool over his usual shirt and vest, though his ankles remain freezing in the snow due to poor footwear.
"Aagh, I forg-got about shoes, too..." Tressa grumbles as the cold feeling gathers around her legs in the deep drifts.
"It can get pretty bad, yes... Especially if it soaks in and then freezes. That's how some people lose their toes..." Ophilia seems to think a moment.
"Lose their toes?" Tressa gawks.
"I-I'm sure we will be fine!" Ophilia assures her.
"Yeah, I know a great way to keep the frostbite away!" Alfyn says optimistically, "I got those hot seeds in Atlasdam just for this!"
"Hot seeds? Most curious..." Cyrus seems pensive and walks into a snow-covered tree. Its branches deposit a plop of snow onto him, "Waugh!"
Olberic helps to dig Cyrus out, "Watch your ways, man."
"Oof, thank you, Sir B- ACHOO!" The scholar sneezes.
"We musten hasten," H'aanit glances around and then towards the darkening sky, "Daylight doth not stayeth long. And t'would be ill if the winds brought a storm upon us."
"Primrose, are you alright?" Simeon asks for the third time since they departed from the wagon. The dancer isn't wearing much more than a woolly shawl to cover her upper body. She had changed out of her sandals for boots in this weather, but they were the same material as the kind that Tressa and Alfyn wear, which is prone to the snow soaking in.
"I'm quite alright," Primrose smiles, "It'll take more than a chill to stop me."
"We had left the Woodlands around noon... So that doesn't give us much time to keep going," Olberic looks forward at the obscuring white, "We might want to consider resting for the night... in a cave or other enclosure."
"Yes, that would be wise... The lizardmen in this area often attack on nights," Ophilia warns, "The mountains further north of here also have creatures that scale down in search of prey..."
"Mountains...?" Cyrus squints up ahead, "Hmm... Yes, I believe those are... the paths up to the far north... Northreach."
"Well, we're not going there, so let's stop dawdling and-" Tressa is stopped as Therion suddenly stops walking, "Hm? What's up, Therion?"
"..." The thief turns slightly and gestures to be quiet. When the others stop to listen, they hear the winds howling distantly over the snowy lands. It's not upon them yet. And there is also something else...
"Rr..." Linde arches her back, ready to strike.
"Hoo... Hoo..."
The sky around them darkens. Perhaps a thicker cloud cover came overhead...
Simeon looks up and pales.
That's not a cloud cover.
It's a swarm of bloodthirsty owls.
"W-White howlers!" Ophilia exclaims.
"Everyone on guard!" Olberic bellows, sword at the ready, "Get behind me!"
"Hoo HROOO!"
The thick flock of birds descends upon them like a maddened swirl of feathers, beaks, and talons. Olberic shields Cyrus from their onslaught, breaking their assault with his blade's reach. He cuts down several of the aggressive birds in a series of swift strokes.
"Allow me to assist!" Cyrus pulls out a simple spell from his memory, one not requiring his tome as a focus, "Fire bolt!"
His flame shoots out, and yet the howlers seem to easily negate it with their flight. They don't easily catch fire.
"W-white howlers aren't afraid of fire!" Ophilia advises as she uses her staff to try and ward them off.
"Fire against ice-dwelling creatures ... I thought my logic sound..." The scholar sounds defeated, "This warrants more research..."
"You want a piece of this?!" Tressa shouts at the top of her lungs and pulls out the spear she'd bought, "Haa!"
Using the trick she'd learned in Quarrycrest, she coats the weapon in wind magic. This time, however, she lets the funnel of wind widen at the spear tip, allowing it to have a greater range of reach. With a swing, she ensnares several of the birds in the vortex pull and disrupts their flight.
"Now, guys!"
Therion draws the sword he'd bought back in Stonegard. That town didn't really make swords, having more axes since they were usually selling to loggers. Therion managed to get a decent, but used, broadsword for a lower price since it was secondhand. It still works and he cuts down several birds.
"Therion, be careful!" Alfyn keeps near the thief.
"Linde, strike them!" H'aanit draws her own bow.
"Rowr!" Linde leaps up and makes an impressive swipe with her forelimbs and hindlimbs in a circular spin, scattering several of the birds.
"Hoohoo, HOO!" The birds dive with their beaks and talons for the adventurers with persistence, aiming for their eyes in particular.
"Tch...!" Primrose gets a scratch on her cheek. Her eyes flare red. These stinking birds...!
"GET. OUT. OF MY WAY! NIGHT ODE!"
Strings of darkness coalesce around the snow at her feet as she dances, striking an offensive rhythm. With a flick of her wrist and tap of her foot, the dark strings shoot out like beams towards the birds. The animals seem highly wary of the dancer and fly in a more evasive formation. Several of the dark shots slam into the distance, showing an impressive range.
"Tsk...!" The dancer scoffs at her own accuracy.
"Hoo..." The birds suddenly scatter.
"Huh?" Tressa frowns, "I was just getting warmed up!"
"RROWR!" Linde flattens her ears and growls towards the nearby distant white peaks. To the shock of the party, white puffs have begun to descend at a frightening pace against the grey sky.
"I-Is that a..." Alfyn pales.
"Avalanche!" Ophilia cries out.
"Everyone! Get behind cover!" Olberic bellows.
H'aanit hurriedly dives, grabbing Ophilia and jumping for anything remotely like cover. Linde pounces by her side as a rush of white powder comes running down.
Olberic uses his sword as a sort of guard against the oncoming snows as he tries to trudge to safety. Alfyn calls out for Therion as the thief is furthest ahead, before being buffeted with white.
"W-WAAAH!" Tressa dives to hunker down by a large rock, bracing with her head tucked. Cyrus hurriedly covers them both with his cape, as he was closest to the girl.
"Hold on!"
"Prim!" Simeon goes to quickly pull the dancer towards him.
Even Ophilia had no idea how fast snows could travel here. Within the span of a mere minute, the entire mountainside is buried in purified white, like sand washed out by waters. Silence returns once more, only briefly. There is the howl of a storm approaching, whipping the snows. The howlers return, looking for any prey to pick out. To their disappointment, there are no signs of the adventurers where they once stood.
...
The huntress hadn't realized the snow pushed Ophilia from her arms. All she knew was that she was slipping and sliding through what felt almost like mud or water. She wasn't sure when she had lost consciousness, surrounded by cold white that faded into darkness.
"Lady H'aanit!"
Olberic looks horrified at the bit of a bow sticking out by the snows. It's lucky he saw that to begin with, as the skies are now almost entirely dark. Behind him, Therion abruptly sits up from the snow. The thief gasps, feeling his wound ache in the cold that is now more apparently after he'd been blanketed in it. Linde emerges beside him, shaking off her furs.
"Lady H'aanit!" Olberic digs furiously despite the cold seeping into his bones through his armor and muscles. He uncovers the unconscious huntress. She is utterly still as he brushes the snow from her pale face.
"Rowr... RRwoar!" Linde pounces over and licks H'aanit's face. The huntress heaves a gasp and shudders, coughing. But she still seems out of it.
"... We must find shelter..." Olberic picks her up in his arms and looks around, "A cave or..."
Therion stands as well, staggering a little. Linde looks around and growls for them both. With her tail, she gestures to follow. Around them, the swirl of icy wind is picking up. Looking for the others would have to wait, lest they be taken by the impending storm...
...
"Ungh..." Primrose opens her eyes gingerly. It's dark, but that's not a problem for her at all.
"My flower, are you alright?" She hears that familiar voice beside her, much to her relief.
"Simeon? Oh, Simeon..." Primrose feels the cold snows under her as she sits up and embraces the playwright, "You're still here..."
"But of course," The playwright chuckles, looking only a little disheveled, "Well... Isn't this some conundrum?"
The two of them are seemingly holed in entirely by an enclosure of snow. There is the sound of howling, almost like wind, outside a certain portion of the wall.
"Where..." Primrose licks her nigh-frozen lips.
"It seems we got a bit of snow after all..." Simeon rubs his hands a bit, "Aren't you cold like this at all?"
"The furs must be helping," Primrose shrugs, fibbing, "Anyways, we can't just remain in here, Simeon, we'll suffocate..."
"You can hear that nasty wind outside, though. We'd freeze breaking a hole open..." Simeon sighs.
Primrose, however, can see in the dark. She gets on her hands and knees and slowly moves over to a different part of the wall, away from the howling. Using her dark magic to coat her fingers, she sort of digs at the snow, as if testing its structural integrity. The wall is a bit deep and she takes out her dagger to assist.
"Erm... Primrose?" Simeon asks into the dark, "What are you..."
"Just give me a moment," Primrose feels a bit of air move now past her face from the hole. Beyond the snow wall is darkness. However, there's no blast of wind entering from this direction. She scoots back now to Simeon's side, "There we go... Isn't that better?"
"You certainly can read the wind, my flower..." Simeon exhales shakily, "And not even cold! It is unbelievable that you had come from the ... the Sunlands, you said, yes?"
"Yes, I spent some time there these past years... but no, the cold no longer bothers me," The danger rests her head on Simeon's padded shoulder, "Not when I'm like this as well."
"... Your hands are cold..." The playwright feels those fingers.
"Are you sure yours aren't just frozen?" Primrose asks with her eyes closed.
"... I suppose we must simply wait out this storm, then..." Simeon leans back against the wall of snow.
"Are you cold?" Primrose asks him softly.
"Well, I can't complain. We are both still alive," Simeon chuckles wryly, "I can't be disappointed with that, at least."
"Such a romantic," Primrose sighs, "But I won't have you freezing to death on my watch."
"Oh? And how do you intend to..." Simeon briefly pauses as Prim snuggles closer to him, "... My, this brings back memories."
"Do you remember? In the greenhouse that one frigid night?" Primrose mumbles softly, "It was in the middle of spring and such a strange freakishly cold night descended from nowhere..."
"Yes, it was something of an oddity... but we kept warm then as well," The playwright chuckles with nostalgia, "And the plants were alright."
"Hmf, but of course the gardener was looking out for the flowers," Primrose scoffs as if teasing.
"Ah, but I never let my eyes leave the most important flower of all," Simeon says suavely and nuzzles her brown hair.
"How kind," Primrose smiles, "Are you warming up at all?"
"Well, I'm not having the worst time. The honor of that goes to the first night after I left Noblecourt... after the incident."
The dancer's eyes open briefly and blink. She grips the man's sleeve tightly.
"... Simeon, promise me..." She whispers.
"To stay by your side?" He asks.
"... No," She sighs softly, "Promise me that you will keep writing... even after the day we must part ways."
The playwright's eyes widen briefly. Primrose doesn't see the slightest of red swirl in the irises. He breathes softly and sighs.
"You can be such a cruel flower, Primrose."
"I'm not as selfish as you think," The dancer smirks.
...
Tressa woke up with a chill seeping into her limbs. She hurriedly sits up and looks around. It's mostly dark.
"H... Hello?"
"Tressa? Oh, thank goodness..."
"Ophilia?"
A light shines through the dark. The merchant is relieved to see the equally relieved face of the cleric bearing the glowing staff. The light illuminates the frozen and snowy stone enclosing their immediate vicinity.
"W-where are we..." Tressa rubs her eyes a bit as they adjust, "We're not in the mountainside anymore...?"
"Oof..."
Ophilia shines her light another way to reveal the form of Alfyn and Cyrus picking themselves up from what looks to have been a dump of snow. The apothecary shakes his head free of snow and gives a loud sneeze.
"Oof indeed..." Cyrus shivers and looks up, "Ah, Ophilia! Tressa! Are you both quite alright?"
"Yeah, yeah... just gotta figure out... where we even are..." Tressa gets to quickly digging for her tinderbox and torch so they needn't rely solely on Ophilia's light.
"Gee, that snow came outta nowhere!" Alfyn stands and looks at the huge mound of snow behind him, "Uhh... did we come from there?"
"It would seem so..." Cyrus rubs his chin, "What a conundrum... Ah, Ophilia, might you shine the light elsewhere so we may best gather our bearings?"
The cleric obliges, focusing a bit to expand the range of her staff's light before holding it a bit higher in another direction. They can see that this place they all tumbled into seems to be artificial, with stone masonry lining the floors and walls. It is not the usual cobble pattern for towns, but a more ancient-feeling architectural aesthetic.
"Where... are we?" Tressa now lights her torch and looks around as well, "This isn't some abandoned shack..."
"Hmm... The stonework is remarkably sturdy. But I wouldn't say this is a new construction at all..." Cyrus looks up and around, then down towards where the light does not reach, "Ophilia, you are more familiar with these snows than I. Have you any guess?"
"Uh... Well, back when I had gotten stranded with H'aanit during a blizzard, we found an abandoned temple of Aelfric outside the limits of Flamesgrace," The cleric puts a pensive hand to her chin, "Could this also be...?"
"Temple? Huh," Alfyn glances around, "Abandoned... that's a shame."
"That would certainly make sense," Cyrus nods, digesting the information, "Many temples across Orsterra fell into mismanagement or simply were no longer frequented by the movements of populations. For us to stumble into one at this time of need is quite fortuitous."
"Yeah, like the one of Brand's that we found!" Tressa snaps her fingers.
"Mm... Shall we... look in further, or?" Ophilia looks around to her companions, "I highly doubt we can dig our way out of this snow drift... perhaps we can find another exit?"
"That is a wise decision, indeed..." Cyrus points in towards the deeper sections of the supposed temple, "But let us proceed with caution. Abandoned places like this often become habitats for wild creatures as nature reclaims it."
"We didn't find much monsters in Brand's place," Tressa looks to Ophilia, "Didja run into any at the other temple?"
"No... I feel as if..." Ophilia scratches her neck a little, "These sort of places still have a... holiness? Something about them repels creatures that are wicked or have ill intentions."
"Well, but beasts are not evil, necessarily," Cyrus points out, "They merely follow rules of survival. However, yes... I do feel as if something about this place somehow feels ... secure."
"Well? Let's go see then! It ain't super cold in here, either!" Alfyn says, pleasantly surprised, "I'm worried about the others, though... so we gotta get out and find 'em!"