Primrose opens her eyes to the darkness with a soft gasp. She looks around the dark room to see several familiar faces resting here. Simeon is snoozing quietly, leaned against the davenport where someone is resting under a blanket. Alfyn is comedically passed out by where the familiar thief is lying under a blanket. The dancer also sees some other women in the room. Everyone more or less looks exhausted, understandably.
"..." Primrose glances around for a certain merchant. Quiet as a mouse, she stands and moves over to the prepared cots. She feels a small stab of pain that makes her wince, drawing her attention to the arm that Rufus had shattered. It is currently in some kind of cast... probably Alfyn's handiwork. It aches, but is an annoying and persistent pain than an unbearable one. A spoil for her victory.
Looking in the dark, she sees the bandaged head of Tressa poking out from under one of the blankets. The smaller girl seems to be sleeping off the fight from Rufus, much to the dancer's relief. Primrose feels herself relax just a little.
Tressa is alright...
The fearful image seeing the smaller girl get pummeled by Rufus still makes her flinch at the display of wanton brutality... the violence that Tressa got dragged into whilst following her.
To be honest, Tressa did want to come along... but Prim had also not stopped her. She hadn't discouraged Tressa so much this entire trip. After all, the girl was an adult. Prim was even younger when she'd made the decision to kill people. But... perhaps that was just an excuse she made up to protect herself.
It's not really normal for children to do that. Even if Tressa is no longer a child, she is still so green in many ways. And Primrose had put her in danger's way so carelessly!
Olberic's original rebuke to her rises among these thoughts. She is someone that... does not have proper regard for the lives of others...
Every now and then, that statement bears truth. She knew she had done many ruthless things in the name of her blood-soaked quest. Yusufa, Sadiq, Wilk... and however many other lives sacrificed on her path for revenge...
It really would be better if she were all alone.
And yet, she had found herself smiling as she adventured with this motely lot. She is such a selfish person, wanting her cake to eat it, too.
"..."
She lowers herself a little closer and lightly touches Tressa's cheek. Her touch is light, like a child afraid to break something fragile.
"... I'm so sorry..." The dancer whispers softly.
She can hear the sounds of the dark whispering to her of many things. She ignores them at the moment. For a second, she thought she heard Tressa make some weak noise. The dancer lowers herself to the ground, leaning her head against where Tressa lay. Her eyes glow a pensive red in the dark. There is a pain in her chest.
She'd definitely exerted something today, running into Rufus. Something she had been holding back for so long burst a bit. It was different than when she'd fought back in Stonegard. It actually feels a little closer to when she'd passed out in Goldshore... the others told her about being chased by the reanimated dead. It's strange though, how her magic seemed to abandon her midway in combat, and yet they still roiled in her, as if congested.
"..." She looks down at that darkened entanglement of rose thorns and how they have spread across her clavicle.
What is happening with her powers?
There is a sudden clatter from downstairs. She's shaken from her thoughts and quietly slips down. She sees the familiar scholar looking rather frazzled, having burst into the door of the house. Blood stains some of his inner shirt. There are other women asleep here, and they grumble at his sudden entry. The scholar also sounds rather tired, from how he's breathing hard.
"Cyrus?" Primrose asks in a low voice, "What in the name of-"
"Prim, is Alfyn awake? I'm afraid we need him to come to Susanna's posthaste," The scholar swallows hard, voice dry, "I-It's Ophilia and H'aanit..."
Primrose understands immediately and goes to fetch the apothecary. He hasn't moved from where he lay. With a gentle hand, she shakes Alfyn by the shoulder.
"Mnn... huh...?" He opens his eyes blearily, "Is it... tillin' time already..."
"Sorry for the rough awakening but we need you, Alfyn," Primrose says in a hushed voice.
The apothecary quickly scrambles to his feet and the two of them go back downstairs to follow Cyrus out of the house. Therion, who'd been awakened as well, snorts at the unwelcome intrusion. He decides he'd rather stay in bed. At least it didn't sound dangerous.
...
At Susanna's house, Primrose, Cyrus, and Alfyn arrive to find Ophilia and H'aanit lain on the floor atop some furs provided by the seeress. Alfyn gasps at the state of H'aanit in particular. But he also takes note of how still Ophilia looked. Linde is laying down on her side nearby as well.
"This is your doctor, hm?" Susanna looks at them as they arrive. The old woman is in her nightgown with a loose shawl draped over her shoulders. Despite her initial tone of skepticism, she is glad to see the scrappy apothecary inside. She just won't say it.
"What happened?" Alfyn asks as he hurriedly goes to examine them, "They're both so cold!"
Primrose takes note of an unfamiliar man in the room beside Olberic and Alaic. He wears green and has a bow and quiver slung on.
"C-can you help them?" He asks apprehensively, "Oh, a-and the big cat there, too..."
"Rrr..." Linde makes a low growl.
"I'll get right over. Sit tight, Linde," Alfyn gives an apologetic smile as he quickly looks over the bloodiest first.
To his relief, H'aanit's wounds seem like they had been at least partially staunched. They still needed a lot of wrapping and treatment to get them mended and closed. He also wasn't entirely sure on her internal organs. He gently presses along the wound for unusual tenderness, also searching for any blood welling under the skin. Luckily, he doesn't find any.
"... Is no one going to tell us what happened?" Prim asks now while Alfyn continues his examination. She looks to Ashlan, "Who might you be, dear?"
"O-Oh, I'm Ashlan. I was at the Whitewood with Lady Ophilia and the others..."
"Right... anyway. Olberic, what happened?" The dancer returns on topic.
"It... was very strange..." Olberic looks to Alaic, "Did you know anything about a dragon guarding the herb of grace?"
"A dragon?" Primrose raises an eyebrow.
"A-aye, I was surprised to hear myself... Until I actually heard it..." Ashlan swallows a little.
"..." Alaic looks to Susanna. The old woman sighs wearily.
"You knew of this?" Primrose asks with a hint of accusation in her voice.
"The herb of grace, according to legend, grew from the corpses of dragons that gave their lives in the war against the Thirteenth in the Times of Trouble," Susanna explains calmly but with some exasperation, "Their spirits linger in the natural world and disturb it. The Whitewood is dangerous for that reason. The flora and fauna alike are hostile to men."
"That is why we had largely kept the entry hidden," Alaic supplements.
"Ohh... yeah, any normal person would've missed the opening..." Ashlan realizes.
"I didn't think one of the dragons would still be alive in this day and age. They say the curse of Galdera punished them dearly for aiding in his downfall," The seeress looks with a note of sorrow at H'aanit lying still, "But it seems there were some left."
"And H'aanit nearly got herself killed facing it? And the dear cleric tried to save her?" Primrose deduces the rest and looks to the standing men in the room, "Is that what happened?"
"Aye... It would seem so..." Olberic sighs.
"It was quite fascinating," Cyrus rambles a little, "H'aanit... was the dragon! She was using some of her huntress abilities and took its form! Or... something..."
"What?" Ashlan arches his eyebrows in alarm, "She ... she did that and she's still alive?"
"It is a skill of the Darkwood, known as beast lore," Susanna sits down on a wooden chair, watching Alfyn, "The hunters draw on the life force, memories, and instinct of those they slay, taming their souls for use in a future hunt."
"Aye, but... From how it sounds, she was trying to tame something impossible... Sometimes, a beast's soul is stronger than yours. When that happens..." Ashlan swallows, "You open yourself up to be taken over in turn by the beast. I... I surmise that must be what drove her to this state."
"Egads..." Alfyn looks over parts of H'aanit's body that seem speckled with dark scales, "Are these... dragon scales?"
"They seem to be growing on her very skin..." Olberic notes, "Are they a danger to her life?"
"I-I dunno... I mean, she's alright for now. Probably dead tired...She's breathin' alright. I'll keep an eye on those scales... but Lia... I need some hot water! And cloths! She's like an icicle!"
Indeed, Ophilia was barely breathing. Her pallor was so white that she did seem dead. Alfyn checks her body over to find little physical injury. When Susanna brings over the hot water and rags, the apothecary wastes no time trying to warm her body up.
"Lia, can you hear me? Hang in there...!" He mutters feverishly.
"... I suppose it was a miracle you all got them back here in one piece as it is, then..." Primrose sighs.
"What about you? You were injured back at the Parlor," Olberic looks to the dancer now, "Your arm..."
"... I'll be fine," Primrose rubs a hand on her chest.
"Ah, lady Susanna," Olberic opens his bag now to show the sprigs of the herb he had gathered from the dragon's vicinity, "These are the herbs of grace, yes?"
"Yes... Bring them here and I'll get to brewing..." Susanna shuffles to her kitchen now, "Tis won't do to simply watch the medicine man work."
"Alfyn, is there anything any of us can do to help?" Primrose asks the busybody apothecary.
"Uh... See what bones Linde's broke... I'll get over to ice and splint them quick!" Alfyn says, a bit flustered with divided attentions.
"Hmm... I don't have much expertise in that..." Primrose kneels by the big cat, "Hey there, darling, hang on, okay?"
She gently rubs the big cat's head, scratching under the jowl. Despite her injuries, Linde gives a soft purr.
"I'll take a look," Ashlan kneels down beside her.
"Sir Cyrus, are you alright?" Olberic looks to see Cyrus plop face-first onto the nearby sofa.
"I'm afraid... the magic drain is now striking me at full..." Cyrus mumbles, muffled by the cushion.
Alaic rolls his eyes.
"Nhh..." Ophilia makes the slightest of noise.
"Lia?" Alfyn's heart leaps with hope at a response, "Hey, you're okay, you hear me? Stay with me..."
"... So you were at the Parlor, you said?" Primrose now looks to the hunter beside her.
"Yeah... I was looking for Rufus and his aid in something through his network in information..." Ashlan sighs, "Though, now it seems I will need to find another lead."
"Ah, so you only sought information?" The dancer raises an eyebrow. It's not impossible, and he seems honest enough.
"Mhm. I... I was surprised when he offered me Ophilia," The hunter sighs with some shame apparent, "I wasn't looking for the company of a woman."
He presses a tender spot and Linde jerks in pain.
"Ah, sorry, sorry..." He pets her to try and tame her. His face shows a bit more pain than Primrose expected.
"... Are you injured?" The dancer asks observantly, "You seem to be in pain."
"Ah, apologies... I... I was trying to take away some of the pain from this little one..." He sighs.
Primrose glances to see Linde does seem calmed, despite the broken bones. When Ashlan touches her, it does seem to cause pain still, but she doesn't make crazy movements.
"Is that a special power you have?" Primrose looks to Ashlan.
"Sort of... It's a power we use with beasts. You see, I am one of the Greenwood... a sister clan of the Darkwood... which your friend seems to be of," Ashlan glances over his shoulder at H'aanit.
"Hmm... How interesting," Primrose says offhandedly.
Olberic meanwhile is standing by the cooking cauldron that Susanna is attending to. The old woman is taking pinches of this and that from various items he knew not of, scattered about her table. She adds them to the brew. He smells something herbal in there, with neutral flavoring. Not sweet, not bitter...
"Is this supposed to cure petrification?" Olberic wonders aloud, "This is for H'aanit to take to her master, I presume."
"Unfortunately, from what H'aanit said, Z'aanta likely was already petrified for many moons. The herb of grace can only cure the effect when used right away. That is why she must hunt the beast that had turned him into stone. This brew won't do him any good as he is," The old woman says, a bit grumpy, "I had said all this before."
"Ah, apologies..." Olberic rubs his face a bit sheepishly, "It has... admittedly been a very long night."
"..." Alaic stands like a statue overseeing the buzz of activity in the room.
Olberic stands by Susanna. Cyrus is on the couch. Prim and Ashlan are with Linde, and Alfyn has attentions divided between H'aanit and Ophilia. The apothecary piles on a pelt atop H'aanit once he's done wrapping any wounds. He turns back to Ophilia and looks alarmed for a moment. Alaic raises an eyebrow seeing Alfyn pinch Ophilia's nose and seemingly... kiss her?
"... Is that a kiss of life?" Alaic asks bluntly.
"Her breathing's weak..." Alfyn says as he pulls off and listens again, "Lia, c'mon..."
"..." Ophilia's breathing is indeed very quiet. Her pallor doesn't improve.
"Egads..." Alfyn mutters under his breath, "What happened?"
"I... I am not sure," Olberic looks frustrated at his own helplessness, "Ophilia was bitten by the dragon... and then the dragon suddenly turned out to be H'aanit... But she was grievously wounded. Ophilia initially was unable to close her wounds..."
"Ah, yes..." Cyrus turns his head to the side so he doesn't speak into the cushion, "Ophilia took off her gloves and... her magic was different... Her eyes glowed and the scars on her hands were also like lights..."
Alfyn checks under the gloves and sees those white veins that have spread up Ophilia's elbow. He frowns.
"She was hiding those, hm?" Susanna says as she walks over, leaving her pot to bubble a little with the pot on, "That's... hm."
"You know what this is?" Alfyn looks to the seeress, "I'd seen 'em once, but Lia never liked to show it much..."
"I'm not entirely sure. But you say she fell to this state after healing H'aanit?" Susanna looks to Cyrus.
"Y-yes, I think so..."
"What's this about?" Primrose stands, "Did she exhaust herself using too much of her Gate?"
"... There are healing arts that are almost forbidden because they endanger the healer. A Gate uses a magical force from a pool inside themselves that can replenish with proper rest, made from their own spirit. That is, mana. However... I think the foolish cleric went as far as to use her own life to try and save H'aanit," The old woman purses her lips.
"Life...?" Primrose narrows her eyes, "So... You mean like shortening her own lifespan?"
"Precisely," Susanna sighs, "Although, these were stories I'd heard... The ability to do this is from folktales about the Daughter of Light and..."
The seeress shakes her head.
"It is powerful healing that can seal grievous wounds... but with a heavy price...Anyway. If she has used too much of her life, I'm afraid that cannot be replenished as mana can be..."
"N-no way!" Alfyn bites his lower lip, "There's gotta be something we can do...! I won't let Lia die!"
So, the girl used up her own life force to save the huntress... Primrose digests that silently, a hand over her chest.
"She doesn't seem dead just yet, which is a good sign..." Susanna looks Ophilia over, "Focus on keeping her warm and... hmm... Let me see if I have anything..."
The old woman gestures for Alaic to follow her upstairs. Alfyn looks frustrated and yet also determined as he whispers soft assurances to the cleric. Olberic looks troubled and goes to sit down against the wall, leaning his sword on his shoulder.
"Healing using one's own life... Oh dear..." Cyrus can't help but sound tired, "We were unable to do anything..."
"Go to sleep, dear scholar," Primrose sighs, "You look like you need it."
"... Alright, I think she's asleep..." Ashlan says softly, gently petting Linde's head, "She definitely has some broken bones. Maybe three ribs. Her claws are also a bit worn, probably from attacking a dragon's tough scales..."
"We should not have let her go alone," Olberic says with some bitter regret in his voice. His grey eyes look a little stormy.
"... She insisted, didn't she? Even if we wish otherwise, we honored her wishes," Primrose says softly, "It won't do to be blaming yourself."
"Alright then..." Susanna returns with Alaic carrying a small chest, "It seems I still have some essence left."
"Essence?" Alfyn perks up, "You don't mean..."
"Grape, plum, and pomegranate, of course," Susanna says simply. She gestures for Alaic to bring the chest to the kitchen.
"Wait, you have more of that?" Alfyn jumps to his feet, "That stuff is so rare...! I was almost afraid you gave me all your stash earlier! Tress was tellin' me just how expensive even a bottle is..."
"Well, leave it to the gods to forbid cultivating these," Susanna rolls her eyes, "Anyways, help me brew something revitalizing. I suspect grape and pomegranate ought to do..."
She opens the chest and reveals vials organized haphazardly. There is a heady smell of something herbal from within. In some of the vials are clearly what look to be seeds, dried raisins, and oils of some sort. Alfyn's eyes widen at the virtual cornucopia.
"Woah...!" The apothecary can't conceal his surprise.
"Your cleric was reckless... but she did save H'aanit," Susanna says softly as she opens a bottle, "This is just a small gesture to repay that."
Primrose silently recalls how Susanna addressed H'aanit as her own granddaughter. It makes sense then that she would feel indebted to Ophilia for risking her life like that.
"I'll help however I can!" Alfyn says eagerly, "Prim, could ya keep an eye on Lia over there?"
Primrose sighs and nods. She stands over where the cleric lays. Looking down at that pale face, she feels the darkness inside call with a siren song again...
"... When this is done and over with, these essences would be better with you, mayhaps," Susanna says quietly, not looking to Alfyn at all.
"Huh?" The apothecary blinks.
"They merely sit up there in my room. It would be better put to use them for your friends, seeing as what trouble you get yourselves into," The old woman points her cauldron ladle at Alfyn's bloody shoulder.
"Oh, this is already fine!" Alfyn assures her.
"Still. I'm old. I don't have much use for these exotic things," Susanna sighs, "If this night goes well... I'll give you what I have. Like I said, I don't go around offering cures."
"... Shucks, don't say 'if'..." Alfyn manages a somewhat confident smile, "They'll be alright!"
...
It is late morning by the time Therion decides it's time to wake up. He glances around and sees some of the prostitutes are complaining of what a horrible night it was. Simeon seems to still be asleep in an awkward sitting position. Tressa is still out like a light. It seems only she, Simeon, and he are here in the whore's quarters still... the others have gone who knows where. He had a hunch, of course.
The thief glances over the pipsqueak's bandaged face. He didn't get a good look last night... partly because he didn't want to look. The bandages hide what bruising might be underneath... not that he can't imagine.
"..."
Should he just leave Tressa here?
Arianna comes up stairs. She smiles, seeing the thief sitting up.
"Ah, good morning... Well... as good a morning as it gets..." She tries to be optimistic, "Are you alright?"
Therion grunts, "... Where' the others?"
"Ah, the swordsman and scholar are downstairs. I believe they came from Susanna's last night..."
Therion sighs and goes downstairs now. He's mindful not to agitate his healing chest, where Alfyn said there is a fracture. He'd bound it but Therion knew better than to reinjure it accidentally by moving roughly.
Downstairs, the prostitutes that stayed around are sort of just recuperating after their night of mayhem. Olberic and Cyrus stand out like sore thumbs, resting like lugs by the door. But the women don't bother them much.
Therion scoffs, seeing Cyrus leaning and drooling on Olberic's arm. The warrior himself sleeps rather stiffly, as if he were only lightly in slumber and could wake at any minute.
Well, if they're here, then I can leave the pipsqueak...
Therion walks over to the door and looks to Arianna, "Watch Tressa. If these two wake up, let 'em know I went to the seer's."
"Ah, alright..."
The thief trots out the door to the morning chill of Stillsnow. He furtively glances around. It seems a bit more quiet on this end. Actually, it looks like no one wants to be around here... Even the carriages are all gone. The ruckus last night probably scared everyone off...
Therion keeps his scarf up as he makes quick footwork to the bridge over the river. Indeed, there seem to be less people in town than one would think for a morning like this. Then again, it's not like these people farm in the snow, so they probably have a different schedule than the southern lands.
Townsfolk, the few there are, huddle in twos or threes and seem to be looking about and gossiping. The thief's keen ears pick up a bit on what they think transpired.
"The search team went out this morning and ... all gone! Burned to the ground!"
"It sure gave those patrons a scare... The lot of them lit out like rats from here...!"
"I swear on the Gods, I saw a man of the cloth among them!"
"But what will become of it now...?"
"However did this happen..."
"A den of wickedness cannot last forever..."
Therion scoffs softly to himself and hurries along. It's nothing really juicy.
Arriving before Susanna's house, he is hesitant to knock. He finally raps his knuckle on the door. There is a brief "Who's there."
"The milk man," Therion replies sarcastically.
The door opens a crack and he sees the stern face of Alaic peer out from behind at him. The bodyguard is unamused at his wisecrack.
"Is it just you?" Alaic asks.
"No, I have some invisible friends right here," Therion waves to his sides.
Alaic rolls his eyes at the sarcasm and opens the door more fully for the thief to pass. Inside there is a lingering smell of herbs. Therion steps in tentatively.
He sees the cleric and huntress lain on furs on the floor. Primrose seems to be asleep, sitting against the wall, near Linde. There is an unfamiliar man there in green sitting on the couch. Therion vaguely remembers seeing his face last night, maybe. Alfyn is standing in the kitchen area manning a big pot bubbling away quietly. That explains the smell. Susanna is nowhere to be seen on this floor.
"Oh, Therion...!" Alfyn yawns briefly and waves, "Yer up already? That essence of grape works wonders, don't it?"
"You didn't sleep again, did you," Therion asks bluntly, "... What the hell happened here?"
"Uhh... Well, H'aanit got into trouble while we were at the Parlor and... Lia tried to save her and almost used up her own life..." Alfyn sighs. It sounded a bit farfetched to the thief... but at this point, he was getting used to the outlandish shenanigans that occurred to their group. The apothecary also looks exhausted.
"Uh huh..." Therion sighs, "But it's all alright now?"
"Mm, yeah... Lia got a bit better a few... hours ago, I think? The essence of grape really helped," Alfyn gives a weak grin, "Old lady Susanna really knows her stuff..."
"Idiot, sit down," Therion furrows his brow and goes to pull Alfyn to the couch. The man on the couch stands quickly, not having been asleep.
"O-oh, sorry..."
"Nah, nah... Therion, this is Ashlan!" Alfyn introduces the thief with a jolly grin as he's plopped down onto the couch, "He... he helped last night, too!"
"Right..." Therion sighs, "Sleep already, idiot."
"Don't... don't let the pot... burn..." Alfyn trails off with a snore.
"..." The thief can only scoff. The apothecary's own wounded shoulder has some blood seeping through. The idiot always cares for someone before himself...
"Uh, hail," Ashlan says awkwardly to Therion, "You were another companion from last night... I saw that you were injured."
"... Hm," Therion goes to glance at the pot now, "I'm putting this out before there's a fire."
Concentrating a bit, he mentally imagines the flames lessening. It's not a roaring fire, so he can extinguish them easily.
"Ah, good idea... That was the concoction of essences that they made to save Ophilia..." Ashlan looks to the cleric, "Are you all looking to leave Stillsnow soon? I'm uncertain either of them would be able to travel in this state... Not to mention the other injured among you."
Therion glances where Primrose sits. The dancer's arm that was snapped last night is still casted. His own ribs still sting a bit when he breathes. And then there's Tressa...
"... You don't have to worry about us," The thief says tersely.
"Worry is just about all you're good for."
The ones awake in the room, being Therion, Alaic, and Ashlan, turn to see Susanna descend from upstairs. The old woman has changed into her usual midnight blue robes. She doesn't have the face of a morning person.
"Ah, lady Susanna..." Ashlan starts.
"Honestly, you lot kept the entire town up last night, I daresay," She huffs.
"... Not our intention," Therion rolls his eye.
"Came just to do a checkup?" Susanna glances about as she goes to the kitchen, "May as well give some of this stuff to those healing. It should help. Get a cup, if you want."
Therion looks reluctant to swallow the stuff. It smells like those herb energy balls Alfyn made before.
"Hmm... and since you're here... I never did answer your question about dragonstones, did I?"
"..." Therion says nothing. He thought his question was forgotten amid all the drama.
"If you're asking about them... that can mean two things. You likely already know the Ravuses have the stones... so you wouldn't ask about that if that were the case. So, the Ravuses have lost the stones, as the rumors go?" Susanna pulls a shallow bowl from her cabinet.
"... rumors?" Therion raises an eyebrow.
"Aye... Nasty rumors about how the work of the gods is being undone, bit by bit... hence the dour mood about the place these days. Surely you've heard your share... no doubt seen it on the road around?" Susanna looks to him inquisitively.
"... Maybe," Therion folds his arms under his cloak.
"Up here, there is a bit more quiet... but the beasts around are also restless... Even the Parlor was not safe."
"What does this have to do about the stones," Therion asks curtly.
"The dragonstones were originally safeguarded by the Ravus family. Exactly why is said that the stones were instruments used in the sealing of Galdera himself," Susanna blinks slowly, "Do you understand what that means?"
"... It's a fairy tale," Therion scoffs.
"Well, fools are quick to say that. But the value of the stones together is unmistakable. Even if not a key to the afterworld, people will likely seek it for the gem-like value they possess," Susanna sighs, "So, where would money-hungry thieves and maniacs seeking the Thirteenth converge, is the question."
This complicates things a bit. Therion had assumed he would just be up against other thieves that broke into the Ravus manor... But Susanna is hinting at an additional motive other people might want the stones... The crazy ones.
He sighs in slight frustration.
"It is a bit strange to see a person with a fool's bangle seeking such a treasure," Susanna says offhandedly as she ladles out some of the soupy stuff onto the plate.
"..." Therion masks his surprise that she noticed.
"If I had to take a guess, I would think Noblecourt your best bet," The old woman goes to sit down and enjoy her breakfast.
"Why," Therion asks warily. He actually had some earlier hints point that way, too.
"Where there's money, there's bound to be scoundrels. And what better a nest than where some of the most wealthy live?" Susanna points her spoon in the general direction of outside, "Many of the Parlor patrons fled back to their homes in Noblecourt."
"So, this is just guesswork," Therion scoffs.
"Well, I already told you all I'm no magician," The old woman sips her gruel.
"That's a peculiar thing you're looking for," Ashlan remarks, "I've never heard of such stones."
"Just about everyone else says that," The thief sighs.
"Uhm, if I may, Lady Susanna..." Ashlan looks to the old woman, "You're clearly wise and people seek your guidance... I myself am looking for my father. He is Farlan of the Greenwood Tribe... perhaps you know?"
"I can't eat in peace, can I? Yes, I have heard of the accursed Greenwood..." Susanna nods slowly, "Sister of Darkwood. But I didn't think they survived. At least, from what Z'aanta had told me."
"I see..." Ashlan looks down a bit guiltily, "I suppose that is correct."
"... Truth be told, what powers H'aanit used may also be of Greenwood origin," Susanna says softly, "Twas her parents."
"Huh?" Ashlan seems shocked and he passes a glance over at H'aanit, "... That... was something I considered, but..."
"She was raised Darkwood, but she reached into her Greenwood abilities when she was desperate... Darkwood beast lore only functions with those tamed. Greenwood do not have such limitation," The old woman says tentatively as she stirs her gruel, "Bah, clumps..."
"I had thought it amazing that she managed to return to a human form as it is..." Ashlan gives a small sigh, "That... gives me hope for my father."
"Is your father one of those that got themselves possessed?" Susanna asks knowingly.
"... Yes... He... He did so to protect me," Ashlan grips his hand tightly, "We were being attacked and... my father saw no alternative but to draw on those powers that ultimately consumed him..."
"Hmm... Well, you are the hunter. You would know the answer better than I," The old woman sighs and sips her lumpy gruel.
"Huh?" The hunter looks confused.
"You know how a beast thinks, no? Where they like to be?" Susanna raises an eyebrow at the young man, "It is a fundamental of a hunter, no?"
"... Ah!" Ashlan seems to be struck by the realization, "So, depending on what beast possessed my father, I should be able to determine its habits!"
Therion sort of stands there awkwardly, silent as Alaic.
"I feel so foolish not to realize such a simple solution..." Ashlan sighs, "I needn't have come to the Parlor of all places after all..."
"... Well, that you came did no harm anyways," Susanna says tersely.
"Hmm... Thank you," Ashlan looks to Therion, "Then... I suppose I must be going. I must put this new information to good use... I pray for your speedy recoveries."
"... Uh huh," Therion just answers blandly.
Ashlan takes his leave with that. Therion goes to sit down on the couch to digest the seer's advice. Noblecourt, huh? Well, at least that means leaving this snowy hole.
"Mm..."
He glances to see the dancer stirring. She winces at her broken arm and looks up to see Susanna and Therion.
"Finally up, eh?" Susanna tosses her a glance.
"... Ah, right, we imposed on you last night..." Primrose stands and stretches, "Mmf... Ah, Alfyn is asleep."
"As he should be," Susanna points at her arm, "Do you need to wake him for that?"
"No, it's fine," The dancer glances about at the others in the room, "No one's died, yet, right?"
Therion scoffs.
"How are things back at the house?" The dancer struts over to the thief, "Are the others faring well? Do they need Alfyn?"
"D... doctor's... in ...the house..." Alfyn mumbles in his sleep.
"... Might want to take a look at the pipsqueak maybe... Other than that, probably not," Therion folds his arms and closes his eye, leaning back in the couch, "Everyone's just tired."
"..."
"..." Therion opens his eye at the dancer briefly, "So you're going to Noblecourt, too."
Primrose glances out the window to the snowy town outside, "I suppose you heard that. Yes."
So, it seems they're going the same way again. It's funny how things worked out so far, what with them having traveled together the longest and all.
"... But I don't think we're in any shape to be hastily going there at the moment," Primrose sighs, looking down at her arm, "You were injured as well, I recall."
"It's fine," Therion grunts.
Primrose takes slight notice that the dark mark on her chest has barely lessened.
"If you both can move, you can go," Susanna makes a shoo-shoo motion with her hand at them, "Leave the doctor and the other two here."
"How inhospitable," Primrose teases, "But we'll get out of your hair, I suppose..."
Therion looks reluctant for a second to leave Alfyn laying here. But the idiot would probably prefer it this way. He'll have to come get him later...
Once the thief and dancer leave, Susanna finishes her gruel. She fetches a blanket to cover Alfyn with before looking to Alaic.
"Help me get the girls upstairs," She instructs, "Put them in the beds."
Alaic nods and does as he is told, moving Ophilia and H'aanit upstairs to proper bedding. H'aanit stirs a little, but not much. Ophilia remains still.
"..." The burly man returns downstairs. Susanna hands him a hot cup of tea, having made some for herself.
She goes to stand by the window and gaze outside, pensive.
Those white marks on Ophilia's hands... as well as the dark mark on Primrose's chest... Susanna didn't bring it up with the dancer. Both of these affinities and their portents... the old woman thought them mere fairy tales. However, hearing how Ophilia saved H'aanit... some reality is stranger than fiction...
"The Daughter of Light and the Daughter of Darkness..." Susanna mumbles softly, "Could it really be..."
...
Off in the whore house, Primrose and Therion return to find their companions slowly rousing. Cyrus seems still asleep, but Olberic is standing vigilantly out on the porch.
"Ah, you're already up," Primrose waves, "As expected of a soldier."
"Hm, Arianna said you went to see Susanna," Olberic wipes his face lightly with his hand, "Has anything changed?"
"Not really. Alfyn finally fell asleep," Primrose goes to pass him, "Is Tressa awake?"
"No. Simeon is up there right now," Olberic sighs.
"... So, what are we thinking on for food," Therion brings up the practical thing. He didn't want any herb gruel.
"You boys can find us some tasty morsels," Primrose gives them both a wink as she goes inside the house, "Be sure to get enough for everyone."
Olberic looks over in the direction of the pub. It wouldn't be the best situation if Kalv was in an inquisitive mood. The tavernkeeper is no fool.
Therion sighs, "I'm going to the tavern."
"... In that case, let us convene back here once we find something. I don't know if the tavern will be a good place after what happened last night..." Olberic sighs, "I will see if I can find foodstuffs from other sellers at this time."
Therion grunts in affirmation and goes on his own. He preferred it this way anyway.
Near the tavern, there are some steps in the snow, rumpling the white. It seems like there are goers at this time. Standing just outside is a man seemingly down on his luck. He smells like a drunk and holds up his empty tankard asking for spare change. Therion passes him by without much care.
Inside, he sees a modest gathering of townsfolk. The mood overall is somber. It's not rowdy like how Sunshade was in the slightest. Everyone also wears their heavy coats indoors here. Therion might want to try at those pockets... but they don't look all too unaware. In fact, after what happened after last night, everyone might be on higher alert. It's too much of a risk.
"..." Therion sighs and walks over to the bar counter. The suavely dressed barkeep comes to him swiftly.
"Greetings, friend. What can I get you?" He smiles professionally.
"What food do you have here?" Therion asks tersely.
"Well, we got bread. Fresh, some of the warmest you can find up here. Might be a bit hard now, but you can toast it over a hearth. Sure you don't want any drinks?"
"Just bread?" Therion doesn't get derailed.
"Hmm... We don't exactly have a bumper crop of choices up here in the cold," The tavernkeeper rubs his chin, "You're from out of town, traveler?"
Therion doesn't answer. He maintains his level eye contact that could well burn a hole in someone's head.
The tavernkeeper maintains the awkward silence of a staring contest for a few minutes with the thief before a soft scoff escapes his lips.
"Not much of lips on ya, huh, traveler?" The tavernkeeper chuckles, "That's fine. I run a business here, not a gab fest. Let's see... We got some cured meats, partially frozen. Not much for vegetables save the frozen root kind. Do you fancy a potato?"
It might be cheaper to buy these raw items and then go and then cook them? Well, it's not like they had a kitchen to work with at the whore's house. The hearth there isn't really that strong, either. But the thief wasn't looking to spend a ton on buying foods this guy made.
"I'll take whatever this will get," Therion plunks down a handful of coins. He decides he'll see if he can get Tressa to compensate him... once she wakes up.
The tavernkeeper looks over the coins and counts them out on the counter. He takes them with a sweep of his hand and goes to pick up some things from a door behind the counter. Therion drums his fingers on the counter. This is another thing that he preferred thievery to. Buying things like this... the seller could stiff you of your money if you weren't too bright. If you stole, on the other hand, you could get the value you want with no loss.
The thief sighs.
He sees the tavernkeeper return with a rough sack. Plopping it on the counter, he pushes it towards Therion.
"Here ya go. Plenty in there."
Therion opens the sack and looks over its contents. He finds some shabby looking potatoes and what looks to be rutabagas. There's also plants he didn't recognize in there, as well as two large loaves of hard bread and a generous link of five shapes that look vaguely like sausages. It's not the worst haul for roughly thirty leaves.
"... thanks," Therion grunts and hauls the sack over his shoulder with a single motion.
"Come again, traveler," The tavernkeeper waves as Therion goes, "Don't be such a stranger, eh?"
"..." The thief just leaves without another word.
...
The warrior looks around for a central market in Stillsnow. In their time here, he hadn't really seen such a thing. They'd run around mostly residences. It might be too cold here to have something like an open market.
Over the bridge, he sees a small handful of houses that have people standing by outside with sacks, seemingly chatting in the cold.
"Hail," He approaches, "Might one find the general store here?"
"Aye, right in," One wrinkly man like a walrus points at one of the houses, "Ye look like ye could also use some meat on those bones. We also have a butcher in town!"
"Ah, much appreciated," Olberic nods as he goes to enter the general store first. It's not a large space, being only a portion of the first floor of the house. There isn't much to buy here, either. There are furs, traveling utilities, some tools, and various knickknacks. A young girl mans the register. Her brown eyes sparkle when Olberic enters.
"Customer!" She pipes up and waves.
"Hail," Olberic returns the wave and looks around, "Might you carry any foodstuffs?"
"Uhm... yes! We got a shipment yesterday..." The girl goes to look around some barrels, "Salted cod! Thaw them out in a pot for your soup and it's as good as it gets! Also some dried fruits from down south..."
"I will take some fruits, then," Olberic nods, "How much for ... half a sack?"
"Uhh... Let me check..." The girl counts with her fingers, "T... twenty leaves!"
It seemed reasonable, considering that they probably did not get much fruits up here. Also, Olberic was no haggler like Tressa, and he saw no harm giving the girl's calculations credence.
"Alright, half a sack of that... I think we still have some rations so... This will work to replenish it," The warrior nods and pays. The girl accepts his money and enthusiastically hands him the sack of dried fruit.
"Come again!" She calls out to him as he leaves.
He steps back out into the crisp and cool air. He contemplates if he should get some more meat. They still did have some of that animal leg...
It was a hard night for all of them. They deserve a bit of spoiling, maybe. He decides to enter the butcher's.
There is a portly woman in an apron behind a wooden table by the counter. It's surprisingly warm here at the front because a fire is crackling in the nearby hearth.
"Hail. Pray tell, what meats have you here in the north?" Olberic greets the woman.
She blushes, or maybe her cheeks are just that ruddy, and giggles a little into her hand, "Well, fine sir, we have some lovely marmot meat. Caught fresh this morning from the trapper himself! It's healthier than even chicken!"
"I have never tasted it, I believe..." Olberic nods, "How large be these marmots?"
The woman takes out a rack with the furry corpses of marmots hanging on the rod. They are about the size of a small rabbit.
"Quite plump, too!"
"Hmm..." Olberic considers how many of these would be needed for their party. It might be possible to buy two or three and just cook it down, maybe? He would have to see how well they fare in terms of culinary skill.
"Very well, how much for two?"
"A mere 15 leaves!"
Olberic hands over the money and receives a small sack with the two marmots stuffed in. The woman gives a hearty laugh.
"My, it's so rare that out-of-towners come to our shop! And few so good looking!"
Olberic can't resist a small smile, "You flatter me, madam. Good day."
He exits and starts to walk back to the house by the river. At least it seems the drama from last night has largely died down... likely due to the flight of the patrons. People here seem more content to just gossip, perhaps. The stain of the Parlor seems to be something they want to forget. It makes sense and could work to their advantage.
...
While Therion and Olberic are out gathering comestibles, Primrose goes upstairs, passing the still-asleep Cyrus. Some of the women, Arianna among them, are remarking at how dashing the sleeping scholar looks, much to the dancer's passing amusement. She finds Simeon talking with some of the recuperating women upstairs. He seems to be regaling them with poetic theatrics. Seeing the dancer coming, he perks up.
"Ah, Prim!" Simeon smiles, "Good morning, my flower. I was a tad worried I didn't see you in the house when I awoke."
"I was checking up on some things," Primrose glances to Tressa, "..."
Simeon easily follows her gaze, "Ah, I'm afraid she hadn't so much as stirred since I awoke..."
"She's just a child, isn't she?" One of the women ask, "Gods, who did that to her? It looks so painful..."
"... Rufus did that," Primrose practically spits out.
"L-Lord Rufus did..." The women pale a little in fear, "... He's not usually a very violent man... but he had great strength..."
"Well, now he won't be a problem any longer," Primrose looks to the women, "You and all the former workers at the Parlor... are free now."
The two women share a glance and look mildly uncomfortable at her words.
"Free... but we have nowhere to go now... and where shall we find work?"
"That place was no upstanding venue, but... it kept us fed..."
Primrose sighs a little. She can imagine these were pretty much the same thoughts that much of the workers in Sunshade believed as well.
"Hmm... Perhaps... you can rebuild?" Simeon suggests, "I know not the state of the Parlor, but... surely it doesn't have to simply be a burned ruin, no?"
"You mean... reopening the business?" The women seem apprehensive about that as well.
"... Look, you can't be choosy about it..." Primrose sighs, "If you truly believe you can do nothing else than entertain patrons, then you must take charge of it. Don't allow some other scumbag to dictate your life. Run the business better than how it treated you before."
"..." The women seem to consider those words.
"But... if you have the will to do so, then you can learn to do what you formerly could not and change how you wish," The dancer says with some admirable authority.
"Indeed, Prim is right...!" Simeon seems even more inspired than the intended targets of the speech, "Much like the legendary phoenix, people rise from the ashes of their former selves, ready to greet a new dawn of tomorrow!"
His zeal is almost a bit awkward, but it earns him a bit of applause from the two women. Primrose folds her arms and gives an amused and exasperated chuckle at such an optimistic attitude.
But, maybe it's fine to give these people something to hope for.
She hears a soft mumble and looks down to see Tressa's lips moving. Bending down, she hears the merchant ask weakly for water.
Prim hurriedly goes to the windowsill and scoops up some clean snow. She lets it melt a bit in her hands before carefully dripping the water onto Tressa's lips. The merchant quietly drinks. Simeon glances to the other women and gestures that they go downstairs to enjoy the company of the others. He leaves as well, leaving Primrose alone with Tressa at the upper level.
"Nh..." Tressa grunts softly. One of her eyes is wrapped in bandages, so her other eye opens, "P... Prim...?"
"Tressa..." Primrose smiles warmly with relief, "... Thank goodness..."
She's not even aware of how watery her eyes are.
"... Wh... where are we...?" The merchant asks blearily and then winces, reaching for her head, "Ow..."
"We're alright, Tressa... we're safe now..." Primrose holds that hand back tenderly, "You need to rest..."
"... can you..." Tressa hesitates to ask, "Can you ... stay a little... until I fall asleep then...?"
"Mm, of course," Primrose nods.
That seems to assure Tressa enough. The merchant wasn't totally fully awake maybe, and she drifts back to sleep rather quickly. Primrose clasps Tressa's hand and feels her lower lip tremble just a little. But she refuses to cry, merely bowing her head.