The town inn isn't very big compared to Atlasdam's. Interestingly enough, there are actually two inns in a town that, at first glance, wouldn't have much of many visitors. But the rooms are also all mostly singles.
"Mgrgrgrgr..." Tressa folds her arms looking over their options, "This place is not friendly to groups!"
"I doubt they get many groups to begin with, Tressa," Cyrus chuckles, "I think we could squeeze two by two into these rooms?"
"Well, we got an odd number, not counting Linde," The merchant points out, "So someone gets a single all to themselves anyway... and it may as well be me!"
"We don't get big groups out here like the sort for you bunch!" The ruddy-faced innkeeper chirps, "You take up way many rooms!"
"Why so many singles, anyway? And two inns, to boot! You guys get a lotta single travelers or something?" Tressa raises an eyebrow as she proceeds to count her money for payment, "At least the price is decent..."
"Oh, uh, yes! Our town is frequented by many individuals year-round! We therefore offer very generous prices for short-term stays!"
"Oh? I was not aware of such popularity... Is there something we ought to see whilst here?" Cyrus asks out of curiosity.
"Err..." The innkeeper looks to him as if confused, or trying to see if the scholar is serious, "Well, I mean... if you don't know, you don't know! I won't say!"
"Hmm..."
H'aanit absentmindedly runs her fingers along Linde's fur as they wait for a room in the inn lobby. She keeps her eyes on some people going about their business here. Some of them do seem from out of town, and they are alone. However, there is something unpleasant in the air...
Therion stands nearby, similarly surveying their new surroundings. The thief can see the mischief in some of the eyes here. These guys aren't here for clean business. It makes sense they would come to some backwater place like this...
Ophilia and Alfyn are poking around the book collection of the inn while they wait.
"Oh, look, a book on dragons!" Alfyn calls Therion's attention to a book in his hand from the shelf, "Maybe it's got something that can help ya, Therion! Ya didn't get to see the books at Atlasdam, right?"
Therion scoffs, "... if it's so easy that it's in a book, I would've found my answer already."
"Ehh... Well, ya never know!" Alfyn leafs to a random page, "Dragons were always a bit of a rarity. In the apothecary biz, they got a lotta mystery surrounding their parts fer medicine... but it's too rare to actually prove!"
"Then ... it's no better than a story book!" Tressa says with a confident huff.
"Hmm... I remember learning that dragons had flown alongside the gods," Ophilia points out.
"Indeed!" Cyrus interjects as usual, "There are scholarly forays into the subject of this mythos. The role of dragons in the downfall of the Thirteenth is quite well-documented. Supposedly, they were conspirators with the forces of Dreisang, in particular. Dragons display innate supernatural abilities that mirror that of magic that Gates cast, so there is also a theory that Dragons were a sort of creature blessed with Gateways before humans. But there is a bit of-"
"Gee, these drawings are nice!" Alfyn says obliviously, "Hmm, nothing on stones, though..."
"..." H'aanit espies a man with a dark and thick coat check out at the reception desk. He surreptitiously slides something along with the key to the innkeeper, who accepts it with a ruddy grin.
"Come again anytime, Baron Holhorn...!"
"There is a church in town, yes?" Ophilia now looks to the innkeeper.
"Uh... yes, there is..." The innkeeper looks a bit warily at Ophilia, "Ah, you're a ... sister."
"Your eyes are for decoration, huh?" Tressa mumbles under her breath.
"Hmm... I think I'll stop by!" Ophilia smiles and looks to the others, "I'll be back after I send my regards. T'would be improper not to see my fellow siblings of the Flame."
"Ah, it is a bit late..." Cyrus glances out a nearby window at the darkening sky, "It is already so dark!"
"Well, I mean, we are in a town, not the wilderness," Tressa shrugs.
"I willen comen with thee," H'aanit stands. She bade Linde to stay, "Linde, stayen by the others here. I willen return."
"Suit yourselves!" Tressa chuckles, "More beds to choose! Well, and we still need to figure out rooming arrangements! I am not buying that many singles!"
...
Ophilia and H'aanit venture out from the inn towards where the steeple was seen in town. The lights here in the night are not very strong, with the lamps being rather dim by frost or simply with weak flame.
"... H'aanit, you look worried," Ophilia says softly as they walk through the snowy town. Their shoes crunch, muffled.
"Hm?" The huntress looks to the cleric.
"Since we went to the inn... You looked a bit at unease..." The cleric goes to hold H'aanit's hand, "Is something wrong?"
H'aanit feels that hand slip into her own and feels a bit of warmth at her cheeks. She turns away a bit to look around, "Tis merely... a feelen I haveth... This place haven an unpleasant scent."
"Scent?" Ophilia tilts her head.
"Tis difficult to sayeth..." H'aanit frowns, "A feelen liken how a beast haveth afore an ambush. How Linde's body doth acten with danger approachend... Havest thou a cat arch seen?"
"Oh, you mean when cats hiss and their hair stands on end?"
"Aye. Tis from a feelen beasts haven. Oft it cometh from a foul scent, one of unease. But tis not a scent so much like a stink but other..."
The huntress sees Ophilia sort of staring at her and abruptly drops the conversation.
"Pardon. I spake much liken Cyrus," The huntress sighs.
"Oh, no, that's not a bad thing!" Ophilia laughs, "You normally don't speak too much, so it's kind of nice..."
The huntress feels that warmth in her cheeks intensify. Luckily, the dim lighting makes it so it's difficult to see her blushing.
The two of them reach the doors of the rather small chapel in town. The shape is dark, with little light peering out from the windows. It's a far cry from the glittering glory of the cathedral in Flamesgrace. It looks almost like any other abandoned building.
"Hmm..." Ophilia squints by a sconce perched by the door, "Well, this is definitely a church to Aelfric and the Sacred Flame..."
"..." H'aanit merely glances around them. She can feel the eyes of some people that pass by.
"Excuse me, hello?" Ophilia knocks and goes to push the door open, "Forgive the intrusion..."
The door opens and shows a dimly lit row of pews. Flickering candles line the sconces and stands on the wall in the interior, illuminating a sparse hall. Unlike the grandeur of the Flamesgrace cathedral, this chapel is almost entirely enclosed within a single room. There aren't wings that flank the prayer hall or anything. There is a single pulpit at the front before the pews, with a dull mural of the Flame in the backdrop. It's overall a less decorated space, to say the least. A single nun with a white head scarf and garb seems to preside over this late hour, with no one in the pews.
"Hm? May I help you?" The nun looks up at Ophilia and H'aanit at the door.
"Ah, forgive me for intruding at such a late hour," Ophilia quickly bows as she enters, "I had merely come to town and I wanted to pay my respects..."
"Ah, you are a sister..." The nun has almost a wistful smile, "Welcome, welcome... unfortunately, we don't have much to offer you here..."
"Oh, no, no," Ophilia says quickly, "I was just passing and... I was curious... This is a small congregation, indeed!"
"...Yes," The nun says with a note of hesitance, "Our holding in this town is rather... minor. You may find this a surprise but... outside the main cities like Flamesgrace, Saintsbridge, and Goldshore... the faith in the Flame has been waning quite a bit..."
"What?" Ophilia gasps a little, "Ah... I... I wasn't aware... So, there are... other faiths?"
The nun gives a wry smile and shakes her head, "People have all but lost their faith many a place in this world... We are the few who cling to it... And I'm afraid we are not entirely welcome here either."
"What?" Ophilia asks in alarm. H'aanit takes this chance to stand by the door. She keeps an eye on Ophilia, but also an ear for whatever might come from outside.
"I'm afraid... the church here has not been faring well... We cannot even pay for the land on which this church stands... and the landowner has given us notice to leave... or face dire consequences."
"What landowner is so heartless...?" Ophilia looks a little angry, "This is ridiculous...! The churches of the Flame are usually within buildings erected by the Church itself, no? So, there should be no fees owed..."
"Things are different here, sister... and you would do well to heed them!" The nun whispers with a note of fear, "There are powerful forces that control this town... that would like for nothing more than to see this church demolished. We have staved off their efforts for as long as we could... but we don't have many believers... and our coffers are empty..."
"That's..." Ophilia looks with frustration. The flame at her side leaps with a flickering light.
"... I am sorry you made the trip here, sister..." The nun bows a little now, "Please, do take care. The people in this town... many of them are not receptive of us."
That would explain the eyes on them, maybe, thinks Ophilia.
"... Tell me who the landowner is," Ophilia says stubbornly, "I want to have a talk with them about this!"
"What?" The nun looks alarmed, "No, no, no, you mustn't bring such a thing before them, lest they be angered...!"
"I can't just watch as this happens...!" Ophilia hisses, "Surely, there can be something arranged!"
"You don't understand... the landowner... the force that has much of Stillsnow bent to its will... is an entity you mustn't cross... I tell you this for your own safety!" The nun looks to Ophilia as if pleading.
"... Who are they, sister?" Ophilia's expression softens when she sees the woman's concern, "Why do they strike such fear?"
"... We try not to speak of them so much... they have many patrons that are around... and rather influential people as well... even..." The nun swallows, "Even among us... there are 'customers'..."
"Customers... of the landowner?" Ophilia raises an eyebrow, "What... what does that mean? Is this some... some sort of illicit business?"
"... Sister, you know not of Stillsnow's true nature, it seems..." The nun sighs wearily, "Tis not my place to tell you... but even bishops can be... turned."
"What? Wait... a bishop... Who is the bishop here?"
"We have none stationed... the last one died several moons ago... and what was faltering here already merely dwindled further..." The nun covers her mouth a little and looks away, "Sister, you best return to where the lights do shine in this world... Do not dawdle here, for whatever business you have."
Ophilia looks visibly confused as the woman now goes to blow out the sconces, preparing to shut the doors for the night. H'aanit sighs a little and gestures that they leave. The cleric looks frustrated as they go back out into the dark night. The door closes heavily behind them with a creak.
"... This is awful..." Ophilia looks out towards the lights in town, "Whatever could she have meant..."
"Liken I do not the scent of this towne..." H'aanit says softly, "Finden Grotoff quickly I will and we cannen go."
"Mm..." Ophilia sighs, still obviously troubled.
"... Thou hath more courage than others in thine church," H'aanit says on the side.
"Huh? Well, no, not really... I just..." Ophilia tilts her head a bit to the side, "I suppose it's like what Alfyn says? About not leaving people in a bind?"
"Aye... thou both aren the healers," The huntress chuckles slightly.
The two of them run into Primrose, Simeon, and Olberic returning from the pub as they all make for the inn to pass their first night in Stillsnow.
...
Within the dead of night, a shadow moves through the town, unseen. A single crow perches upon the branches of a dead tree coated with snow, outside the edges of Stillsnow. Under the branches, a darkly hooded person with burly arms stands as if waiting. On his left, muscled arm is the tattoo of a crow's wing.
"... So, how goes it?" The hooded man says, "Weird of you to call a meeting all of a sudden."
The crow tilts its head a bit like the way birds do. It moves its beak as though speaking. A magical voice projects from it.
"You've heard, yes? Helgenish is dead. That spells trouble for the southern operations under your part of things, Rufus."
Rufus scoffs, "That fat bastard... here I thought he was ignoring all my messages... I'd been running my ass raw looking over all our operations, too!"
"His underlings have seized power. While removing them should be easy, the issue is reinstating the same system. You might want to change it a bit," The crow caws.
"Whatever happened with him was a fluke, I told you. Idiot went and got himself offed by some desert gang or tomb raiders near Sunshade... Not like he was the worst worker but... he'd damage merchandise from time to time, too, you know? So, this time, I'll just be a bit more selective," Rufus nods to himself with confidence, "C'mon, you know I have many a friend on this continent."
"Yes, I don't doubt that, Rufus. But there have been whispers that someone has been asking questions... And I don't doubt the fondness of your friends for a few free leaves, like any wretched human," The crow tilts its head.
"... I have some friends coming over for the next few days. I'll check in with them a little then, and let you know. But I do think you're being a little paranoid," Rufus scoffs, "The Obsidians are built on a foundation with shadows so long that even the Gods themselves would have to act to take it down."
"Pride cometh before the fall, Rufus. The carefulness of the progenitors is what allowed the organization to blossom as it has to what it is today. A little bit of cockiness easily will undo that," The crow ruffles its feathers and beats its wings, "You best ensure you keep your friends close... and keep your enemies under watch."
"Enemies, hm..." Rufus pretends to rub his chin in deep thought, "Luckily, I always keep my friends on enemies, hehe. Father Eschard, for example... He's coming to see me within the next day or so regarding the death of his lovely daughter."
"The Church of Flame is the only den of rats in our house. There lie other factors that can swoop in unannounced," The crow caws once more before flapping its wings and flying away into the cold night, "Heed my words, Rufus. Prepare for change to come."
Rufus looks on as that black shape vanishes into the dark sky. The moon is not present. The left wing of the crow clicks his teeth with dissatisfaction.
"He's always such a cryptic pusher..." He growls and scratches his head. He then turns to go back the way he came. The crunch of snow under his boots is muffled. Fresh snow that begins to fall quietly covers his tracks, as if no one were there in the first place.
...
The party's first night in Stillsnow is a reminder of how different this place is compared to Flamesgrace. While the two shared similar climates, the inn was not as snug as it could have been in Stillsnow. Also, there were muffled noises coming now and then from adjacent walls despite their thickness. Through the night, Therion and Primrose had the strange feeling of being watched, and they kept alert. Linde's ears twitched intermittently, picking up trace movements as well.
When morning comes, there is only weak light and no cock crowing to wake you. The wooden floor is stiff and chilly underfoot, and Tressa sits up complaining of a sore back from sleeping on the floor in her bedroll. The others all begin to rouse in their singles-turned-double rooms.
"Nff... Wow, that was a hard bed!" Alfyn chuckles, rubbing his shoulder, "But ya know, it's actually not a totally bad thing! Sometimes, a bed that's too soft will also hurt your back!"
"Uh huh," Therion grunts, having sat in the corner the whole night. He saw some mice scurry in from some holes in the wall overnight.
"So, H'aanit," Ophilia looks to the huntress as they dress, "You'll be seeing Grotoff today? Primrose and the others seemed to have figured out her whereabouts somewhat..."
"Aye, tis not doeth delayen further..." H'aanit draws her fur cloak about herself, "There be'en something that doth unsettle in this towne... We best moven."
"Ah..." Ophilia thinks back to the disheartened sister yesterday at the church, "Right..."
There is breakfast at the inn, though it's not much. A simple back of dried fruits, nuts, meats, and hardtack are left at the door of each room.
"Hmm..." Cyrus munches slowly on a piece of dried meat, "I daresay... It does feel a bit like one would think leather to be..."
"I would concur..." Olberic sighs, munching on some fruit, "It isn't for older teeth, that's for sure."
"I am glad Therese is back home, haha..." Cyrus looks down for a second at the jerky in his hand, "Her parents would pale in anger with these conditions she'd be subjected to."
Primrose eats sparingly with Simeon. She glances out the small window in their room to see the morning light reflect on the snow drifts piled around. Some children seem to be building a snowman. She smiles a little at that seeming innocence.
Tressa yawns as she meets them all in the inn lobby. She had gotten a single room alone. As they go to leave, they notice there are a few carriages lined up of various decoration. New patrons for the inn, many dressed quite well, go to enter the establishment. The innkeeper can be heard jubilantly greeting them inside.
"Huh... I suppose the popularity was not a simple boast..." Cyrus rubs his chin.
Primrose thinks back to those sounds from last night. She had a vague guess what they could have been, why the walls had to be blocked... As well as the strange clientele and their comings and goings... It's nothing solid yet. There are still certain details missing that will nail the coffin shut. Kalv definitely seems to be the town informant... perhaps another visit is in order?
"So! Shall we be off to see Grotoff across the frozen lake?" Simeon claps his hands, "I believe it was a notably large house, too, so we shan't easily miss it!"
"Hehehe, let's see if this lady's all talk!" Tressa laces up her snowshoes, "Ready! We'll be checking out!"
Stillsnow mornings are rather sleepy. It's to be expected in the north, where farming schedules do not really exist like in southern areas. More often, children just wake up to go play and adults try to keep snow off the vicinities of their houses. Daily chores encompass a lot of sweeping and stocking up for the cold nights. Since agriculture is nigh nonexistent in Stillsnow, hunting takes up the role of providing for diets. Some people also go to forage for some tubers that grow safely underground while loggers go to provide wood for the town hearths. It's lively, but in its own quaint way.
"Hmm... Could that be it?" Cyrus points an inquisitive finger at a large house looming in the distance as they cross the frozen lake via bridge.
"It certainly seems to be the largest one on that side..." Olberic rubs his chin, "The tavern master mentioned it is very close to the wood..."
Linde looks to the wood in the distance with an almost cautious stare as she skulks in gait beside H'aanit. The huntress is looking around elsewhere.
"Linde, I thought you'd look more at home in the snow, haha..." Ophilia giggles at the leopard.
"Rowr."
"Outta my way, outta my way!"
Ophilia is almost knocked off her feet as a man practically barrels past them, dashing across the bridge. They barely got a glimpse of him. H'aanit catches the cleric by one arm, and Primrose surprisingly catches her by the other.
"O-oh, thank you..." Ophilia regains her footing with their help.
"What was his issue?" Primrose frowns as the man runs off ahead. They reach the end of the bridge, near where some kids are playing in the snow. Seeing newcomers, the kids lose interest in their half-finished snowman.
"Oh, he's probably off to see the old witch!" One of the children helpfully answer after overhearing her question.
"Witch?" Simeon raises an eyebrow.
"Meanest thou Grotoff?" H'aanit looks to the children.
"Ish Shuzanna," One chipped-tooth kid whistles a little and nods, "She gesh losha vishitors!"
"Ooh, kitty!" Another little girl looks longingly at Linde. The leopard seems leery of the children and hangs back a bit.
H'aanit chuckles and bends down to scratch Linde's fur, "Thou art popular with children, as in Goldshore."
"Grrr..." Linde scoffs.
"Thou cannen petten her," H'aanit looks to the kids now as an invitation, "Doeth so gently. In truth, she doth liken being stroked and groomed."
The kids take the invitation and eagerly go to rub Linde's fur, much to the leopard's exasperation. Linde gives a sort of stink-eye at the huntress, trying not to enjoy herself too much. Therion sort of facepalms when he sees Alfyn join the kids for some reason. Primrose chuckles.
"Sho shoft!"
"Heehee, wet nose!"
"... So, this... Shuzanna... is a witch?" Tressa tilts her head at the kids.
"Oh, Susanna lives in the red roof house over yonder!" The girl points to the house they had glimpsed in crossing, "Me mum says she's a witch!"
"Mine, too!"
"My, my, a witch?" Primrose bats an eye with interest, "That's not a very nice rumor... Well, if she is as wise and sought out as she is, perhaps there is a kernel of truth..."
"Witches are more often misunderstood Gates than anyone malicious!" Cyrus points out, "Often times, the presence of the powers of Gates would be celebratory... However, some communities actively repressed or rejected them. Because the power of a Gate leaks out even subconsciously, phenomena would often occur around Gates and trigger suspicion within these reactionary communities. The perceived idea of 'witchcraft' led to an unfortunate loss of lives of Gates and-"
"A red roof... Then goen we shall," H'aanit walks on without paying mind to the rambling scholar.
Linde is relieved and evades the children to catch up with H'aanit. However, the kids are persistent and laugh as they follow.
"Hehehe, it's cute how much the kids like Linde!" Alfyn grins as they trail behind the huntress.
"Mm, Linde's fur must be fun to touch for them..." Ophilia giggles, "Come to think of it... Linde's kind probably are from these snowy lands... We don't see leopards down in the southern Frostlands, really."
"An excellent observation," Cyrus ramps up another lecture mode, "The snow leopard territories are observed to often avoid those of lizardfolk and frost bears, and hunt those of marmots and even howlers. However, of recent, I believe ecological reports stated that lizardfolk had been moving closer to certain areas where they never did before... They could have driven the leopards also into different regions! Alas, even worse is the lizardfolk have the advantage of tools in the wilds, and so can easily compete in hunting similar prey..."
"Lizardfolk do run around outside Flamesgrace..." Ophilia sighs, "I worry a lot for Richard since he lives outside the city limits..."
"Hmm... What if I made a petting fee on Linde..." Tressa brainstorms.
"I doubt Linde would take well to that," Olberic looks at Tressa, "Linde is more noble animal than those beasts in circuses for show."
"Well, it was just an idea!"
The party and some extras approach the large house with the red roof. Right before its doors, they see a tall man with broad shoulders in a dark, tanned skin outfit manhandle the rude dasher that had pushed past them on the bridge. The dasher makes a desperate attempt to evade the man and crawl to the house. However, the man easily grabs him by the leg and flings him back into some nearby snow pile.
"Oof!"
"Yeow," Tressa winces, "That's not fun."
"Rrgh...!" The dasher picks himself up. The party can now see he is not dressed as a local, wearing more exotic silks. He glares at the man in his way, "I have journeyed many leagues to have my fortune told by the Lady Susanna! I will not be denied!"
The man stands, still and silent as an unmoving statue. His large frame blocks the way to the door of the house, and his dark brown eyes are austere, unwavering.
"God's teeth... move aside, you wretched whoreson!"
The dasher runs at the man, fists up and ready. The man easily ducks under his guard and sends him reeling with a swift knee to the gut. The dasher is once again sent sprawling. The children point and laugh. A small group of locals peep out from their own business to see the scuffle. None seem too surprised.
"Urgh..." The dasher doesn't get up this time.
The man folds his arms, standing simply now, uncontested.
"... Who be'en that?" H'aanit asks a nearby local.
"Oh, that's Susanna's minder, Alaic... Ya won't get a peep outta him. Susanna does the talkin' fer both of 'em, hehe!" The young man grins, "And he keeps out the riffraff fer her, get it?"
"Hm," H'aanit narrows her eyes a little at the house and the man before it, "She doth needeth such security...?"
"Aye, she's too popular fer her own blood! Susanna's got a famed name, fer sure, but she don't care for company! Ain't that the God's knees? A wise seer like her that won't share nothin' about what she knows!"
"Wait, so no one can see this lady?" Tressa balks.
"I mean, ya kin try, certainly," The local points at the dasher on the floor, "More oft than not, doesn't end well, though. That Alaic is like an ox!"
"Hm..." Olberic folds his arms and looks at Alaic now. Alaic seems to have taken little note of the outsiders.
"Ya thinkin' of tussling a bit, Ol'Berg?" Alfyn looks to the warrior.
"If he is to be an obstacle... it may be unavoidable..." Olberic rubs his chin.
"I ... do daresay he does look an even match for you, perhaps?" Simeon looks to the two of them in comparison, "Although, he is unarmed..."
"Nay," H'aanit bars the others with her extended arm, "I shallen fighten him."
"Huh?" Ophilia looks at the huntress, "Wait, do we really have to resort to violence?"
"Hahaha, fisticuffs be Alaic's language!" The local chuckles, "Word of warning, he won't hold back jus' cuz' yer a lady!"
"T'will be fine. Standen back," H'aanit says to the others as she strides forward with Linde following.
"She's so cool!" The kids chirp.
"More like stupid..." Therion mumbles. Alfyn overhears and nudges him.
"..." Alaic stares H'aanit down as the huntress stands before him. Others still rubbernecking now look with renewed interest at an unpredicted newcomer entering the ring with their undefeated local brawn.
"Hmm... This Susanna lady must pay a lotta leaves to hire that kinda muscle..." Tressa rubs her chin, looking appraisingly at Alaic.
"Oh, no, no, no," The local nearby shakes his head, "Alaic stays by her without care for coin. Y' see, Susanna saved his life some years back. So he's been around ever since to repay her."
"The only company she will tolerate, I assume," Primrose watches as H'aanit primes for battle with interest, "But, H'aanit isn't one to be taken lightly either."
"By the Flame, be careful...!" Ophilia pipes up.
"You're like a fretful mother, Ophilia," Olberic gives a hearty laugh. The cleric shoots him a look of indignance that makes him look away a second later.
"So, thou willst not allowen any to see Grotoff..." H'aanit folds her arms, "Be'en that true?"
Alaic doesn't answer. His gloved hands are clenched at his sides and he looks with wariness at the huntress and the leopard at her side. H'aanit detects something for a second in those eyes.
"... Very well. Goen forth!"
Linde pounces forward with the element of surprise. Alaic flinches inward, but hides it well. He moves to grab the leopard and reverse it, perhaps to throw. His unarmed technique is preferred so he doesn't actually end up killing anyone... that would be a hindrance to Susanna.
"Growwf!" Linde's limber body is harder to wrangle than a human's, and she twists in his grasp. Her tail swings to swipe at his footing before he can get a good grip on her pelt. He's forced to push her off and the two of them disengage, ready for another skirmish. Alaic looks with steely eyes that flicker toward the huntress with reproach. Linde bristles.
"... Thou hath little experience with beasts, it seemeth," H'aanit notes. She now steps forward, drawing a hand over Linde's fur.
"Huh? Wait, what's she doing? Linde would have this guy down pat!" Tressa points out.
"H'aanit's drawing on her powers to connect with beasts," Ophilia explains, "I saw it before... It's... pretty amazing."
"A connection with beasts?" Cyrus and Simeon ask at the same time, obviously intrigued.
Primrose looks with shock as H'aanit's form visibly begins to shift. Her flowing pelt cloak seems more white and speckled, like Linde's. She crouches and her body appears almost pantherlike...
Alaic's eyes widen. The smallest "eep" escapes his lips, unheard. H'aanit charges and takes him by utter unawares. Her claws slam onto his chest and latch onto his clothes as she pushes him down savagely. Then, she makes a dash, dragging him against the frozen stone, before throwing him hard against the stone base of the house. He slams into the foundation with a crack. The house itself seems to shake a little, and snow from its eaves plop onto his listless body.
"Egads!" Several onlookers exclaim in shock at what just transpired.
H'aanit dispels Linde's form and lets out a breath, looking triumphant. The leopard sticks her tongue out at the unmoving pile that is Alaic.
"Uhhh, H-H'aanit, you ... you didn't go too far, did you?" Tressa asks worriedly, as Alaic is not moving.
"Oh, he'll be just fine."
H'aanit looks towards the voice to see the door to the house has opened. A stunted shape descends from the lit interior. The huntress can now clearly see the older woman before her. White hair is tucked loosely under the dark blue cap, with two long braids made of her bangs cascading down the sides of her face. Her gaunt body is similarly enshrouded in a midnight blue garb with purple hems. She walks with a gnarled wooden staff as a cane and one can see the wrinkles on her face and hands.
"Hehehe! A grown man with a boy still within!" The woman hobbles over to poke Alaic with her staff, "Out cold, hm?"
She turns and looks straight at H'aanit.
"H'aanit, do be a dear and have Linde drag the poor fool within, hm?" She says with startling familiarity, "Else he'll catch his death like a log in the snow, heh!"
H'aanit blinks, taken aback. Linde trots up to the old woman. She seems to accept the older woman's touch as her fur is lightly tousled and petted. She even purrs.
"Wait... that old woman knows H'aanit!" Tressa exclaims!
"You..." H'aanit looks the woman over and also at Linde's content expression.
"You wonder how I know your name?" The old woman chuckles, "Why, they call me a witch and others call me a seer... possessed of the all-seeing eye ... or something."
"Then you are... Grotoff," H'aanit says carefully.
"Aye... Though the whole seer nonsense is but poppycock, ha!" Susanna snickers. By now, much of the local people have gone about their business after the conclusion of the fight.
"Well, she seems kinda happy," Alfyn remarks offhandedly.
"... What does that even mean?" Therion looks at the apothecary like he just said the most obvious nothingburger statement in the world.
"I mean, I kinda thought a witch would be more... I dunno, witch-like?" The apothecary says a bit dumbly.
"Tis not a common sight to see a hunter up in these desolate parts," Susanna looks to H'aanit with a knowing smile, "One who communes so seamlessly with beasts... why, only Z'aanta ever came up for a while... and then his prentice."
"T-Thou knowest Z'aanta..." H'aanit doesn't hide her surprise.
"Yes, that hobbledyhoy," Susanna chuckles, "Though, the last time he'd brought you... you were much younger. However, seeing your age, your garb... and, of course, Linde, it is all but too obvious. Very logically simple deductions, my dear. And nothing more."
"I believe she just dismantled an entire section of a textbook on insight..." Cyrus says in awe.
"You could learn a thing or two, squirt," Therion says on the side at Tressa. The merchant angrily kicks his shin.
"Gullibles over the years have simply filled in the blanks as their imagination sees fit. Nothing more," Susanna glances now towards the party, "Well? Disappointed?"
"... Nay, not at all," Primrose lets out a soft scoff bordering on a laugh.
H'aanit laughs as well, "I knowe I can trusteth thee, then."
From under the dusting of snow, a sneeze can be heard by Alaic.
"Hm, a clever one raised by Z'aanta!" Susanna smirks and points towards her house, "Why don't we speak more inside, with you and your friends?"
...
The interior of the house with the red roof is rather spacious. It's not overly decorated and there is a roaring fire built in the hearth. A set of stairs also lead upstairs, probably to where the sleeping quarters are. An open kitchen stands before the hearth, with a black iron stove and a dining table. Plates and vases sit on shelves. There is a shelf of books, as well as curtains that hang with no windows behind them. One immediately notices a long table upon entering, with a crystal ball sitting atop a pillow.
"Eh? Ain't that... a fancy magic ball?" Alfyn exclaims.
"Tis glass," Susanna says bluntly as she goes to put it away, "It puts on a show for people who make the trip... not that many get to even see it, hmf!"
Tressa looks as the old woman stows the crystal ball in a dresser nearby. Atop the dresser is a set of wooden scales.
"Ah, a Steorra mimicry scale!" Cyrus exclaims, "Even if you claim your skills to be fraud, you certainly do have a lot of the associated paraphernalia with divination!"
"Oh, this thing?" Susanna points at the scale, "Good for telling weight is what it's for."
"Where do you want Alaic?" Olberic asks, having helped heft the man in.
"Over on the sofa," Susanna gestures with her cane.
"This certainly is a very quaint dwelling..." Simeon looks around.
"You all can sit and make yourselves comfortable," Susanna hobbles to her kitchen, "I'll make us some tea."
"Oh, please let me help!" Ophilia goes to follow.
"Rowrr..." Linde seems comfortable here and sits, stretching a bit.
"Thou art taken to this place so quick?" H'aanit looks to her partner.
"Likely because she was once here as a cub," Susanna says from the kitchen.
"Huh? Oh, wow, so Linde really is from here!" Tressa exclaims.
"Well, yes. I gave Linde to H'aanit," Susanna says simply.
"Huh?" Several of the party exclaim in surprise.
"... That woulde explaineth why Linde be'en so at ease with thee..." H'aanit looks pointedly at the old woman, "Thou hath mine master known for a long time."
"Aye. Z'aanta is... a bit of a son to me. A wayward and vexing one, but a son nonetheless..." Susanna chuckles, "We have known each other for longer than your life."
The old woman's familiarity with the people she knows takes the huntress a bit off guard. She glances to Linde, who just smiles.
"How intriguing... Well, it certainly makes sense why we would be directed to come find you then," Olberic comes over to the table after laying down Alaic, "You are someone he trusts greatly."
"Hmf... Tell me, then, what prompted this visit?" Susanna eyes the adventurers as she and Ophilia bring the tea over for the taking, "Unless all of you are somehow wanting a fortune told."
"Is that an option?" Tressa jumps at the question.
"No. I'm barely used to so many in my living room as it is," Susanna scoffs tersely.
Primrose takes a teacup and blows on it to cool, "H'aanit can probably explain it best."
"... Master hath been turned to stone," H'aanit says it quick, like ripping off a bandage.
Susanna is only briefly surprised. Her expression turns somber and she shakes her head, sighing loudly, "That master of yours is in a right mess."
H'aanit sighs like she already knew that was coming, "...Aye."
"Honestly... petrification is no simple curse to undo. It is rare enough as it is in this world, thank the gods," Susanna hobbles over to her shelf of books, "Trust Z'aanta to run into such a creature."
The old woman pulls out several books. Seeing how thick some of them are, Olberic and Ophilia help her carry them onto the long table where the crystal ball was. Alfyn comes to help lay them out. He sees titles of tomes he never heard of, like A Tale of a Hundred Monsters: Hunter's Edition, Fair and Foul: Beasts of Orsterra, and Poisonous Milk Wine.
"Huh? Is this a cookbook?" Alfyn opens up the one about milk wine. He does indeed see drawings of what look like ingredients for food, like plants and animals... but these were things he had never seen or heard of. Cyrus is also obviously curious and comes to pore over the pages.
"Doest the solution lie in these tomes?" H'aanit approaches, looking apprehensively at the pile of books on the table.
"Impatient, aren't you?" Susanna scoffs, "Well, I just need to find an old recipe... Whose ingredients are what you will need to procure."
"What? A cure, mayhaps?" H'aanit asks eagerly.
"Not exactly. Have any of you ever heard of the herb-of-grace?"
The seer gauges about the room for the party's expression. Most of them understandably seem confused at the question.
"Herb of grace... Hmm..." Cyrus looks to Alfyn, "That would be your expertise, my good man."
"Huh?" Alfyn looks up, having been wholly engrossed in the book, "Sorry, what was the question?"
"Let's just assume we don't know," Simeon chuckles, "It does sound like the limber root plant that was featured in the play 'The Ice Maiden,' which was about a person found in an ice crystal. The limber root was one of the plot devices that went into a potion to ultimately-"
"Just tell us what it is, lady!" Tressa cuts Simeon off.
"Well, that play you mentioned was close enough. It is based off the herb-of-grace, truth be told. 'The Ice Maiden' is originally inspired by events that happened here at the Whitewood north of Stillsnow," Susanna folds her hands, "There was once a monster that roamed these parts, turning people to stone... and the folks around here discovered that the herb-of-grace could ward off its petrifying magic. It was ultimately slain thanks to that discovery."
"Huh... So, this is going to save H'aanit's master?" Primrose raises an eyebrow.
"Nay, not so simply," Susanna sighs, "What it is meant to do is protect you from becoming frozen like Z'aanta."
"Then... thou meanest that..." H'aanit frowns.
"Aye, you've caught on? The curse can only be lifted if the creature that cursed your master is slain," Susanna looks to the huntress, "Knowest thou the beast?"
"Aye... twas named Redeye... He hath gone on this hunt for the Knights Ardante..."
"Then that is your next quarry. However! If you fight this creature with impatience, you will only end up no better than your master, which does no one any good," Susanna taps her cane loudly, "But, if you can fetch the herb-of-grace, I should be able to cook something up with it... and that will well ward off the effects for you. The herb-of-grace has a limited application, you see... It must be used immediately to have effect."
"Ohh, that makes a lotta sense..." Alfyn nods along, "Gee whiz, you got apothecary knowledge in you, lady!"
"Some of these are out of print!" Cyrus exclaims as he gazes over some spines, "My, you have my respect, lady Grotoff!"
"Then I shallen setten off," H'aanit says promptly.
"Z'aanta taught you no patience, I see," Susanna sighs, "You ought to wait for Alaic to awaken. He knows where the trees grow so thick that none can pass... that is the Whitewood, where the herb grows."
"Well, he seems thoroughly enjoying a nap..." Simeon looks at the man on the couch, "I suppose we have some time to actually enjoy this tea!"
"Ooh, ooh! And I got questions for ya, teller lady!" Tressa hops up eagerly, "You do consultations, right? Since we're here, may as well!"
"Opportunistic merchant, aren't you?" Susanna sits down and looks with an unamused smile at Tressa, "You're looking for something valuable?"
"Yep! Got any details maybe on some hidden treasure in the area?"
"If you were looking for trouble, that would be in the Tomb of the Imperator, out in the Western Stillsnow Wilds," Susanna says like it's a chore, "There might still be something in those old caves, who knows. The dead have no need of that."
"Wait, didn't we just come from there?" A bulb goes off in Alfyn's head, "That's where we saw that huge ... thing!"
"You saw the behemoth?" Susanna blinks in surprise, "... Why, gods praise indeed..."
"A behemoth? That was what it was?" Olberic folds his arms, "It was a mighty beast alike the trunked creatures in the southern lands in books..."
"Pachyderms," Cyrus offers.
"I heard some whispers on the traveling trails of fools who dared go to that Tomb. Legend has it that Tytos the Hero's restless spirit incarnated into that monstrosity that remains trapped within the caves of its own tomb," Susanna waves a hand dismissively.
"Well... I don't really feel like going back in there..." Tressa thinks better of her question, "Uhh... Okay, how about valuable things in general? Heard of anything further away? Maybe in a warmer place?"
"Try Noblecourt," Susanna says, bored, "All those nobles are good for something."
"Hmmmmmm..." Tressa considers that vague advice, "Fine."
"Do all of you have questions for this old woman?" Susanna now looks to the others.
"I don't! But you're a real nifty person with some of these books! I don't even recognize these plants, wow!" Alfyn exclaims.
"Knowledge is Light... Ah, this is your book!" Cyrus snaps his fingers, "This was assigned in class. Therese had read this as well!"
"I have a query, but you don't need entertain it if you wish not to," Olberic steps forward.
"Hmf, out with it," Susanna huffs, "You came this far just to be polite?"
"She's got quite a character, doesn't she?" Simeon whispers to Primrose on the side, much to the dancer's amusement.
"Do you know of a warrior known as the Black Knight, Gustav?"
"The Black Knight, eh... Well, there are a few places you might find the information you seek, because I don't know where they could be. From the sound of it... They are a sellsword. It's also not quite an uncommon title, you know. Black Knight is a bit unimaginative. Many warriors can take this moniker," Susanna shrugs, "I would suggest Noblecourt for you as well. Plenty of hired hands work around those nobles. Mayhaps they can point you in the right direction."
Olberic quietly considers the suggestion and nods, "Thank you."
"Mind you that you are seeking one single man in all of the continent... that is, if they are even still here," The seer adds.
"... Yes. I had thought about it... And it is possible that I will turn up emptyhanded at the end of all this," Olberic solemnly nods, "I am prepared for that."
He had a home to go back to, whether he finishes this or not. That is a comforting solace he would not forfeit.
"Hmm, very well," Susanna nods, "Anything else from you lot?"
"Well, yes... I was wondering if you knew anything about a tome known as From the Far Reaches of Hell," Cyrus pipes up now, putting down the book he had been examining, "It is an ancient collection of various spells and rituals that-"
"-Were collected and composed by the madman Salomon, the Mad Scholar, yes?" Susanna interrupts him, "Do be brief next time. No one gets any younger."
"Er, yes..." Cyrus scratches his head while Tressa snickers in the background at the put-down, "It has been stolen by a colleague of mine, and I had been searching for her. However, I am at a bit of a loss..."
"Salomon was a man infamous for having brought down both Kingdoms of Berstein and Granatt. His influences are largely felt within the areas of the Highlands... But he was a scholar that studied across the continent," Susanna rubs her chin, "You might want to consider a wide area of possibilities. If your colleague is seeking something that Salomon knew or had written in the book, it could well be anywhere with significant history on the continent. Noblecourt is an obvious one... others might be Saintsbridge or even the reaches of Duskbarrow."
"Hmm... I will consider your wisdom," Cyrus declares, now in deep thought, "That is indeed insightful..."
"... I've been catching your eye for a bit now," Susanna suddenly looks to the silent thief, "Well? Out with it?"
"..." Therion looks apprehensively as all eyes now lay on him, "... Know anything about dragonstones?"
"Dragonstones... Now that's a bit of a thinker," Susanna takes a deep inhale as she seems to think. Others of the party also look surprised at Therion's query, as he had always avoided mentioning his aims to them.
"Dragonstones? They sound exotic... expensive..." Tressa has an idea forming.
"Are they actual dragon stones, or is it a moniker for something different?" Cyrus asks curiously.
"They would fetch anyone a golden leaf or two, yes," Susanna speaks up after a pause, "I believe they were a treasure guarded by a family of old times, the Ravuses, descendants of Oscar Ravus, of the kingdom of Hornburg."
"Sir Oscar Ravus? The right-hand man of Hornburg's founding king, Beowulf?" Olberic blinks.
"Yes, the one and same. I believe the story goes that the treasures were a sign of trust given to the Ravus family to safeguard..." Susanna looks to Therion, "What do you want with them?"
"... That's my business," The thief clams up. Primrose visibly shakes her head a little at the thief's stubbornness.
"Hmf! Suit yourself!" Susanna huffs.
"..." H'aanit is looking a bit impatiently at Alaic. She looks to their resident apothecary, "Alfyn, cannest thou waken him with thine herbs?"
"Huh? Well, I could try! I think I still got some herb of revival handy..." Alfyn rifles through his satchel and goes to tend to Alaic.
"You all are indeed a curious bunch," Susanna scoffs, "Not at all united by a same goal, and yet traveling together."
Tressa shrugs, "Traveling's weird."