Susanna gave her somewhat encouraging blessings to H'aanit as the huntress left with Ophilia, taking with her the brewed herb of grace potions and the stuffs for Alfyn's use. She had made up her mind that she wouldn't see them off like some cheesy drama. She had been in enough drama over the last couple of days and was content to return to her quiet hermit life once they got out of her hair.
"Thank you again for everything, Lady Susanna..." Ophilia gives a warm smile despite her pallor appearing a bit anemic still.
"I willen returnen with Z'aanta posthaste when we defeateth Redeye," H'aanit nods. Linde affectionately curls around Susanna's leg, purring.
"Right, right, go on," Susanna sighs and waves dismissively.
Ophilia waves as she and H'aanit close the door behind them.
The old woman watches by the window as the two travelers pass Alaic and say their goodbyes. She can't be sure that they would be returning here... Well, if Z'aanta comes running in, then she'll know if they succeeded.
But something like dread hangs at the back of her mind. The recent turmoil across the continent is not unfelt here. And the omens the travelers brought with them only makes things more suspicious. H'aanit and Ophilia both almost died in the short time they were in town. Only more danger can await them from here...
Shuffling to her shelf, Susanna brings out an ancient leathery tome. It was one she had not let Cyrus touch. Placing it on her dining table, she unravels the protective wrapping and reveals the hard, black book inside. It lacks a title on the cover.
Opening it, she reveals its weathered and yellowed pages. This tome appears to be handwritten in a distinct cursive script, with notations and such, almost like a journal. Parts of it are illustrated with something one might see in story books. Susanna turns the pages gently to a particular page depicting three women standing under what looks to be a ferocious humanoid.
"The Daughters of Galdera..." Susanna murmurs softly, "Lyblac, Oscura, and Lumina... But why... in them? Why now?"
As she mutters to herself, the sneaking idea of an answer creeps up in her mind. But she couldn't be sure if it was just her paranoia or the usual infallible intuition...
"..."
Has she merely sent H'aanit and her friends off on a wild chase to their doom? She had her suspicions when it came to Primrose and her quest concerning the Obsidians. And now, with Ophilia's quest tied to the Kindling, and H'aanit's hunt for Redeye... The party of adventurers has a curious and fraught path. The omens with them are far from beneficial. The world is also not becoming any kinder.
...
The route back down to even Flamesgrace from Stillsnow is rather long. The party had initially cut a shortcut through the western Frostland wilds to get to Stillsnow as fast as they did. The proper route that the wagons are going right now are winding around more towards central Woodlands before twisting back. The wagon wheels cannot plow through the snows that they went through, as there were no paved roads under there.
While some people like Tressa grumble about the ride, Simeon is perfectly content since he'd been engrossed in writing his new idea since they left.
"Ugh... if I never come back to the Frostlands, it'd be too soon..." The merchant grumbles, having woken up along the ride. She still rests her head on Primrose's shoulder, looking a bit sleepy.
"Alright, how does this sound for a verse in the play? Picture it. The scene is that of a balcony. The beautiful maiden Risé is betrothed, and yet her heart can only pine for another... So, she sings this ballad out to the heavens in an unheard plea! However, unbeknownst to her, there is a secret listener that soon becomes bewitched by her voice, becoming her pining lover. Thus, from there begins the complex love story of the nobles that begins with greatest tragedy...!"
"Wow, so this is, uh..." Alfyn seems to think for a second, pointing in the air as if making gestures, "There's a marriage, a lover, another lover... so is this what they call a ... lover's square?"
"Ah, yes, a bit higher than the usual triangle trope," Simeon chuckles, "I do tire of those. Whatever happened to creativity?"
"You haven't changed at all, Simeon," Arianna chuckles softly, "Have you hit the big stages yet?"
"Alas, no. If I had, I might not be sitting here in this wagon with you all," Simeon smiles, "Of course, the life of the theatre maestros is also something to ponder on. I'd likely be cooped up on a desk constantly writing away."
"Therion, what do you think?" Alfyn looks to the thief. Therion gives a slight snore, making the apothecary chuckle.
Meanwhile, in the other wagon, Ophilia is just sleeping. Unlike Tressa, she hadn't been woken since she closed her eyes. Her head rests on H'aanit's padded shoulder. The huntress vigilantly glances to her sleeping face in intervals.
"... She is quite tired after waking," Olberic remarks quietly.
"..." H'aanit doesn't say anything.
Linde also seems content where she is, not moving much.
"Hmm... would it have been more prudent to have Alfyn in our wagon?" Cyrus wonders aloud, "Ophilia and Linde are both injured, after all, no?"
"Alfyn seemed more worried on Tressa's condition," Olberic lightly reaches down and scratches Linde's head, "I defer to his judgment."
"True..." Cyrus sighs and glances out the back of the wagon towards the white landscape, "How many days was this projected to take to return to the Flatlands?"
"Well, granted the trip's length, it might be favorable to stop at Flamesgrace before continuing forward... Of course, if we make good time, perhaps that will not be necessary," Olberic thinks a moment, "After the recent snow storms, the waggoneers said it would take a little over three day's time, I believe."
"I can only hope you eventually find what you search for, my friend," Cyrus looks to Olberic.
"Hm?" The warrior glances back.
"You've had the least luck of us all in finding what you seek, I would say. But do not lose heart!"
"Ah, that's..."
"What's a big guy like you looking for?" Luffie asks out of curiosity and boredom, "A wife?"
"No, that's... no. I seek a person by the alias of the Black Knight," Olberic sighs, "It has been an elusive target."
"Oh... Doesn't ring a bell... Sounds kind of scary," Luffie shrugs.
"Mm... It reminds me of the stories of the rider in black in the Riverlands... A pitch-black horseman that rides through the night and kidnaps wandering maidens..." Henriette sighs, "It was a story they told the young girls so that they wouldn't go out alone at night..."
"Ah, fascinating! You hail from the Riverlands?" Cyrus looks to Henriette, "I must say folklore is such an interesting and diverse subject."
"Mm... I'm from Saintsbridge, actually..." Henriette says a little shyly, playing with her long dark hair, "My parents hoped I would grow up to serve the cathedral... But I didn't want to."
"Ehh, you never mentioned you were from where the rivers meet," Luffie nudges Henriette on the shoulder.
"... Anyway, the rider in black was just a story from the west Riverlands," Henriette rests her chin between her knees drawn up to her chest, "It's not a black knight, though."
"Perhaps that is a similar moniker," Cyrus shrugs and looks deep in thought, "West Riverlands... why, that would place it in the area with towns like Donescu and Riverford."
"Donescu... Yes, one of the first casualties to the G'roha invasion not so long ago," Olberic nods a little.
"Mm, quite... To be honest, quite a lot of history occurred over the last few years across the continent," Cyrus chuckles good-naturedly, "Have you kept up with all the news, sir Olberic?"
"Yes, more or less... I suppose it is habit for me," Olberic scratches his head, "The G'roha empress... Tatloc. She is still imprisoned in the kingdom of Edoras in the Cliftlands, isn't she?"
"Indeed!" Cyrus nods, "Her invasion reached Middlesea and stopped there with the help of remnants of Donescu, and the kingdoms of Edoras, Riven, and Altinia. It was said that there was a sort of skirmish on an island in the middle of Middlesea... but not everyone believes this. Some say it was a mere naval battle. Others say that there lies a legendary isle there, called the Isle of Orsa."
"... We seem to have gotten far off topic from the original conversation," Olberic gives a wry chuckle as he sees Luffie and Henriette's expressions, "Though, perhaps this is just as well... as no one knows this mysterious Black Knight, hm..."
"Hmm, a good use of time is 'just as well' indeed..." Cyrus' eyes now suddenly draw towards the two former Parlor workers before him, "Pray tell, fair maidens. Had you both attended anything of academia?"
"You mean school? Well... no," Luffie answers frankly, "My folks didn't have the money."
"I attended classes from the church held by the Order of the Flame," Henriette answers quietly.
"Well, then, how about a quick lesson to pass the time?" Cyrus looks around their wagon as if to take headcount.
Linde yawns. H'aanit sort of just assents without gesture or words, putting up with it. Olberic chuckles nervously. Henriette and Jura look confused.
"We'll start with some simple places and names! I'm sure you overheard us talking just now, so this ought to be simple," Cyrus chuckles, "The G'roha empire attempted to invade Orsterra by passing over the Cyphlo River. What were the four countries that banded their armies together to oppose the advance?"
"Uhhhhhh..." Henriette and Luffie don't even seem to comprehend the whole question, much less think of an answer.
"Haha, that would be the kingdoms of Riven, Altinia, Donescu, and Edoras," Olberic answers for them, "We largely avoided Edoras the time we were in the Cliftlands, didn't we..."
"Yes, Edoras is located deeper in, I believe. The flags planted sparsely along the way showed just how much their kingdom's borders retreated following the fall of king Pardis III. It was surprising to see so many miners that were not in Edoras, but rather in the more lawless Quarrycrest," Cyrus nods, "Edoras was known for gold-mining. However, I suppose it is all on the same rock formations, perhaps..."
"You know what, I am beat!" Luffie exclaims, "Can't keep my eyes open another moment. I'm gonna sleep so... yeah!"
The girl immediately curls up on her side to avoid any more of the scholar's ramble. Henriette sighs beside her, saying a quiet "good night" before laying down as well.
"... Thou could putteth a behemoth to sleep, Cyrus," H'aanit scoffs, much to Olberic's amusement and Cyrus' confusion.
...
Perhaps the waggoneers themselves were also wanting to get rid of the travelers quicker. Rather than take the usual long route into the Woodlands central crossing, they make a improvised cut through a trade route that heads south immediately after the west Stillsnow Wilds. It is not a route too different than that of how the party had ended up by the tomb of the imperator.
Cyrus takes note of this and makes sure to warn the waggoneers as they head through drifts after their rest at the end of their first day on the road.
"There are howlers among this route!" The scholar shouts.
"Don't worry about it," The waggoneer grumbles gruffly, "Ain't nothing gonna spook my ol' reliable Horus."
Passing through the area, Ophilia awakens briefly and takes some water. Linde perks up and growls as they pass a low set of mountainous hills that rise closely to the east. Olberic squints at a shape among the snows. It becomes two shapes as they near, specifically that of two men. One of them appears older and with a shovel while the younger man is a bright-eyed youth.
"What's going on here? Traveling this route by foot's a bit dangerous," The waggoneer stops briefly to address them, "Yer also heading the wrong way if yer going to Stillsnow."
"Hello sir, erm, no... We are actually on our way to Hoarfrost Grotto," The youth smiles amicably, "I'm a student conducting my studies... and this man here is my guide!"
The old codger mumbles something about a waste of time and just loosely holds his shovel.
"The grotto? Well, good luck with that. The thing's a virtual storybook item!"
"Hey, what's the hold up?" The waggoneer behind hollers.
"Some schmucks say they're looking for Hoarfrost!" The front one yells back.
"Oh? Well, ain't none of our business, so get moving!"
"A student, you say?" Cyrus pokes his head out and gives a small wave, "I wish you all the luck in your studies, erm... pray tell, what might you be researching?"
"This idiot young'in is looking for the Jötunn, of all things!" The codger points a thumb at the student, "I figure, hey, why not? Let this one waste his life like I did."
"I'm sure this is no waste! They exist!" The student huffs, "Anyways, I've paid you for this trip, so let us be off!"
"Fascinating! You mean the Jötunn, the legendary giants of frost that were rumored to roam these here lands way back-"
"Alright, see ya. Hyah!" The waggoneer flicks the reins without warning and the wagon jostles as it starts moving again, pulling Cyrus right back in.
"Wagh!" The scholar waves frantically, "I-I wish you good luck, from a teacher to a student!"
"Ah, thank you...!" The student waves back as they ride away.
"... I don't think they're well-suited to travel together," Olberic says tentatively as they continue on their way, leaving the two to their matters in the area.
"Yes... It is good fortune that we all happened to get along, wouldn't you say?" Cyrus nods.
Linde sort of gives a small smirk at Ophilia and H'aanit's direction.
...
The wagons arrive to the northernmost coast of Middlesea, just near where the port is that leads to Flamesgrace. This was where Leon had dropped them off last time. Primrose gazes out towards the familiar icy waters in the slight inlet of Middlesea.
"... How far are these guys taking us again," Therion looks to Tressa.
"To the North flats," Tressa stretches a bit as they are allowed a brief break to step out and stretch their legs after the ride, "Then we'll split onto one wagon and the four of them can have the other!"
"Don't dawdle too long! We ain't stopping in Flamesgrace!" The waggoneer hollers to them.
"We're not?" Ophilia looks up as H'aanit is helping her out of the wagon.
"We don't got all the time, missy!" The other waggoneer scoffs.
"... Doest thou wanten to goeth?" H'aanit looks to Ophilia.
"... Uh, no... It's fine, really," Ophilia shakes her head, "I haven't finished what I set out to do... And I'd rather not worry Anna nor his excellency returning while looking like this..."
Aside from her pallor, the cleric's robes are clean but a bit torn here and there from the travels and battle. Stitches were made on parts where her cape was ripped.
"Aren thou sure?" H'aanit looks firmly towards her.
"Mm."
"Alright, Tressa, Lia! Time to take some meds...!" Alfyn announces jovially.
"So, where is our next route from here, if we are indeed not stopping in Flamesgrace?" Cyrus looks to one of the waggoneers.
"There's a route that skirts across the south of the town, see," The waggoneer points through some evergreens bordering the walls of Flamesgrace, "Another convenient trade route! Goes straight to the northern flats!"
"Hmm... What lies on that path, do you know?" Olberic asks now.
"Err... probably the usual beasts of the snow or whatnot? It ought to be fine."
Olberic glances to the twilight coming and frowns. They should rest soon as the day is ending... But it's more likely that these waggoneers will push the trip a bit faster. They would have to rest during the ride.
"... I don't trust those wagon men much..." Arianna whispers to Primrose on the side.
"Neither do I. Do keep your wits about yourself when we part, since you'll be riding one of theirs down south," The dancer advises.
Henriette casts a longing glance towards the tallest steeple of the Flamesgrace cathedral. It glitters in the daylight soon turning dusk.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Simeon asks her, startling her a bit.
"Y-yes... but I think I prefer Saintsbridge," Henriette gives a weak smile.
"Ah, understandable. You have strong attachment to what you are familiar with. Tis normal," The playwright smiles, "I myself... look forward to returning to Noblecourt."
...
The route they pursue skirts about the southern wall of Flamesgrace. They pass through a seldom treaded path under evergreen fronds overhead. Snow occasionally sloughs off and lands nearby. It's a bumpy ride, even more so than the snows.
"Ugh... This is a headache..." Jura mumbles and winces when she goes to try and scratch her bad leg.
"It itching? That's good! That means it's healing!" Alfyn chuckles, "Here, I got more salve so don't scratch too much!"
"Oh, thank the gods..."
"Is this road really used for trading..." Arianna wonders aloud, seeming uneasy.
"Mm... yep. See?" Tressa pulls out a map of the continent to show the area they cross through, tracing her finger along a dotted black line, "It ain't comfortable, but... it does cut across the place without needing to go further up north and looping back down!"
"Huh... But that doesn't guarantee safety at all, does it... If anything..." Primrose glances towards Therion, "Wouldn't you say this route is more viable a target for some unsavory activities?"
Therion half-glares at her like "why are you looking at me."
Tressa groans, "I don't wanna get into any more battles for a while, thank you very much!"
"They say that saying such things can invite bad luck," Simeon warns with some jest.
...
Luckily, the route through the trade area seemed to yield no threat. Linde perked up here and there at some eyes in the trees that looked at them. Howlers. However, they seemed more comfortable where they perched and did not encroach. There were luckily no signs of threats like lizardfolk.
By the time they exit the snowy route, it is nighttime, and the sky is filled with stars. The land here seems to begin to show thawing. They are close to the Flatlands. The waggoneers declare they would camp here tonight and feed the horses. Primrose and Therion are the most vigilant as usual, along with the light sleeper, Olberic. The three of them keep an eye about their little campsite and the waggoneers as they rest. When morning comes, they are back on the road and well on their way to where they must part. The coming lands of greener pastures is a welcome sight after their days in the Frostlands.
Around the crossing of North Atlasdam Flats, there is a hastily erected wooden checkpoint that was not there the last time they had gone through. They can see the flag of Atlasdam fluttering from atop the watch.
"Oh? Whatever has happened, I wonder..." Cyrus waves as they near, "Hail! What's this here?"
"New border patrols. Ah, you're a scholar?" A guard looks to Cyrus and notices his wear, "Where be ye going?"
"Noblecourt, my good man," Cyrus glances around, "This was not here the last I passed through. Has something happened?"
"King's orders. A bit hush on details but we gotta protect the roads these days. Bandits and monsters, ye know?" The guard shrugs, "Noblecourt's route isn't covered yet, so ye be careful if ye goes that way."
"Ah..." Cyrus seems to think a moment as he looks at the fortification behind the guard, "I didn't think King Osred would issue such an order... it seems a bit hasty..."
"All the better for us!" The waggoneer dismisses Cyrus, "These days be mighty dangerous! It's nice to have a guard!"
"Anyway, you lot wanted to split?" The other waggoneer hops off his seat and pats his horse, "C'mon, c'mon, let's hurry up. One of us has to go south a far way..."
It's going to be a tight fit, undoubtedly, for the travelers. They had decided ahead of time that the ones who can walk would go alongside the carriage as best they can while the others piled in. Olberic, H'aanit, and Linde were the obvious candidates for walking.
"I think I could also do with a walk!" Alfyn announces, stretching.
The other waggoneer would be taking the former Parlor workers south to their destination in Stonegard. It is a much longer journey. Henriette and Jura look understandably hesitant.
"... Have heart and trust in each other," Primrose looks to the four of them and then to Arianna, "Watch over each other."
"Lady Primrose..." Arianna looks to her with mixed emotions, "You ... are really going back..."
"I must," Primrose clasps Arianna's hand in her own, "You are now free. Go and make your own path forward... And have faith. For faith shall be your shield."
Arianna's eyes widen briefly. The waggoneers heckle for them to hurry up and get on their respective wagons.
"... May we meet again someday," Primrose smiles.
As she pulls away, Arianna's voice is stuck in her throat. What can she say? What are these words knotted in her mind? All these years apart, such a crashing meeting and now they already must part...
"C'mon, Ari!" Luffie calls to Arianna, taking her out of her thoughts.
Primrose doesn't look back as she climbs onto the wagon. Alfyn gives a final wave as their wagon goes eastward.
Arianna clasps the hand Primrose held to her chest and climbs into the wagon prepared for them. As she takes her seat beside the others, she glances down at the coins Primrose slipped her in her palm.
My lady...
Henriette, Jura, and Luffie all look a bit bewildered as Arianna begins to softly cry.
...
"I do believe we will be passing a shrine of Alephan's on the way?" Simeon asks the waggoneer as they ride along through the eastern Flatlands.
"I dunno much about them shrines," The man dismisses him.
"Don't tell me you want to make a stop," Primrose looks at Simeon a bit pointedly.
"Well, uh, no, I was just curious!" Simeon laughs nervously.
"I think it would be nice to pay our respects... like when we visited the shrine of Brand!" Ophilia quips.
"Yes... I concur... huff..." Cyrus pants, trying to keep up alongside the wagon. He ends up nearly tripping onto Linde as he stumbles. Linde leaps out of the way and hisses. Luckily, before he can get a face of dirt, Olberic catches him by his caplet and pulls him back onto his feet.
"T-thank you..." Cyrus huffs.
"Aw, Cy, you don't gotta push yerself...!" Alfyn chuckles, jogging alongside.
The scholar had declared that he wanted to try his walking with the ones not in the wagon to test his stamina. So far, it has been a poor showing. Therion chuckles to himself at the display inside the wagon.
"N-no, I said I would and... so I must try! I am... a scholar of my word!" Cyrus says determinedly, sweating profusely, "Surely, if I can cast spells, I can...!"
"Those are rather different areas of occupation, sir Cyrus," Simeon points out, "Casters, I hear, spend much more time developing their bodies solely for just that: casting spells. It does not mean more endurance..."
"Aye. Mayhap it be the weather," H'aanit glances up at the mostly clear sky overhead.
"Yeah, it's still chilly... but it's nothing like that freezing Frostland! It's nice!" Tressa quips.
"I-If we want to take a break, maybe we can do so at the shrine!" Ophilia looks to the waggoneer, "How much further to Noblecourt?"
"Hrn..." The waggoneer seems to think and takes note of the time of day, "Still got about close to a day? Bah, we'll have to do one more rest 'fore we get there, I guess..."
"It is settled, then! The shrine would be a safer place to rest, I think, compared to just in the middle of the road," Simeon nods.
Primrose sighs loudly.
"Where is it, anyway?" The waggoneer asks now, "I don't see it on my map."
Simeon takes a gander and sees there is indeed no marker of the shrine on the map, "Oh. Huh... I was mistaken?"
"No, look!" Tressa points.
Off the side of the road is a sign most people would have missed. That's because it appears like a normal rock with moss encrusted on its surface. However, looking closer, one can see that the moss grows in a sort of pattern on crevices that are etched artificially into the stone. One can make out the vague inscription of something that says "Sage."
"That must be the ... shrine of the sage!" Cyrus says enthusiastically between breaths.
"Well, I don't see one..." The waggoneer looks skeptical.
"Remember the state of the shrine of Brand?" Primrose points out, "The shrine may well be some crumbling relic by now. Not many people hold faith to the other gods outside the church, after all."
"Then that's all the more reason to visit and pay our respects!" Ophilia nods.
...
As a sort of early rest, the party and their wagon stop before the moss-covered stone steps of a vague cavern while the sun is setting. It took a bit of effort to locate this supposed "shrine." Similar to Brand's shrine, it isn't in the most obvious nor accessible of locations.
The Shrine of the Sage appears built into the face of some rocky outcrop along the various paths through the Flatlands off the main road due east. Where one would expect carved columns and straight steps are only crumbling stone bits and a natural looking cavern. However, gazing in, an astute eye can see the remnants of the old infrastructure within. While elaborate statues and motifs are long worn or destroyed, there are still walls that seem far too straight to be natural, as well as remnants of tiles on the floors and walls.
"How deep do you think this goes?" Olberic looks to Cyrus as they gaze inside with a torch at hand.
"Well, it shan't be too deep. The designs of these shrines were not to be elaborate. They invite brief visits for the pious to show their faith and then leave back to their daily endeavors, see," Cyrus explains, "Although, certain shrines can be as complex as a church..."
The waggoneer sets up the horses for the night and grumbles as he goes to sit in the wagon where he has his sleeping bag. The party is expected to sleep on their own terms. As usual, Primrose and Therion look unlikely to fully close their eyes. Meanwhile, Tressa has curled up in her sleeping sack already like a cute bug.
"... It doth looketh safer here," H'aanit says tentatively as she readies a fire, "The beasts doen avoiden this place... and Linde doth not sensen a higher predator."
"Perhaps it's the shrine?" Ophilia goes to sit down next to the huntress.
"Alright, Lia, here's your meds for keeping up yer strength!" Alfyn says cheerily, "And Tress, don't sleep just yet! I got something for you, too!"
Tressa grumbles.
Simeon follows Olberic and Cyrus curiously, contributing his two leaves to the conversation. Primrose gazes towards the setting sun as the shadows around them lengthen with the darkening sky.
"... It might get a bit chillier at night, but... that's nothing compared to the Frostlands," She sighs and then calls out to Olberic, Cyrus, and Simeon, "Boys, if you do go explore, do bring another torch!"
Therion scoffs and sits on a nearby rock to keep watch.
"I daresay, I shan't be able to sleep if I don't explore a bit of this shrine!" Cyrus nods, "Sir Olberic, would you be so kind to join me in a small nighttime excursion? Sir Simeon is also more than welcome!"
"... Are you sure about this?" Olberic looks skeptically at the playwright and scholar as daylight dims, "What if there be monsters or such within?"
"Well, from what I recall, the shrine of Brand was rather empty, no?" Cyrus points out, "It's as if monsters and beasts alike avoid such places..."
"Certainly good fortune for us," Simeon nods and waves briefly to Primrose before looking to Olberic and Cyrus, "Shall we, gentlemen?"
Olberic grumbles a little and keeps his hand on his sword handle before sighing, "... Only so long as to satiate your insomnia, Cyrus."
"It won't be long, I think!" Cyrus says with naive confidence.
Venturing deeper into the cave, the three of them see more of the shrine and its signs having descended into a derelict state.
"You can see here, there are remnant motifs of scripture on the walls..." Cyrus traces a hand along the stone, "It has unfortunately all but faded here, but it does look like something was chiseled, no?"
"Such a shame. Restoring this seems nigh impossible..." Simeon concurs.
Olberic points ahead where there seems to be light in this cavern, "What be that over there?"
The scholar looks to where the warrior points. A shaft of moonlight from the stone ceiling shines down weakly ahead, as the rock above seems fractured. It reveals a single standing structure that appears like a thin, short column rising above the tiled floor. It seems like a centerpiece in this otherwise dilapidated space, standing out as pristine and illuminated.
"Hmm? Oh, my! It's the dais!" Cyrus exclaims, "The tiling is also preserved, looking at the sheen of marble... That's incredible!"
"It seems almost as if waiting in this lighting... uncanny!" Simeon blinks.
"What is it for?" Olberic asks cautiously as they approach.
"The dais is usually the place where... well, specifically in the shrine of Alephan, the dais serves as a place for a book to rest and be read from in a Socratic manner," Cyrus walks up to it with avid enthusiasm, "Perhaps I shall take a try..."
The scholar produces from his clothes his beloved tome. He eagerly places it upon the dais and opens it.
"Is it just any book?" Olberic asks Simeon as Cyrus does this.
"I believe it was usually something picked out in advance," Simeon shrugs, "The Scholarking was not particular and covers virtually every subject."
"Whoa!" Cyrus exclaims.
For a second, something felt like a brief wind in the cavern. It billows gently, ruffling the open pages in Cyrus' book. It turns the pages with gusto and then suddenly settles, gone as fast as it had come. Cyrus looks absolutely amazed at what the page landed on.
"My unfinished notes on lightning magic? Ho, what mystery!"
"What was that?" Olberic rubs the back of his neck.
"I believe that to be all here!" Cyrus claps his book shut, looking mighty satisfied, "I daresay the presence of Alephan has not let left this place entirely!"
"You mean that wind...?" Olberic looks about to object to the scholar's enthusiasm. But he then recalls the sensation he'd felt when he anointed his blade in the shrine of Brand.
"I may not be religious but... I will ruminate further on these notes!" Cyrus declares.
"Haha, methinks we best be getting to bed?" Simeon chuckles, "This was a rather fun little detour!"
"Indeed!"
Cyrus and Olberic walk on a bit ahead in pace. Cyrus eagerly prattles on about his incomplete notes on lightning magic, which he was a Gate for but was looking into the elemental interaction of with wind and such.
Simeon lingers behind, just outside the periphery of the dais and its vicinity. The playwright looks back at that dais bathing in moonlight. His face is a wry one.
"The power of the gods remains yet, hm... and still, they do nothing. They languish like crumbling statues..."
What mischief or thoughts ran through his mind at this moment is unspoken as the words die down into silence. Something like resentment is evident in his eyes, but amusement is unmistakable on his features. Without another word, he turns and leaves, following the other two out.
Silence once again comes upon the abandoned shrine of the sage.
...
The night enters and quietly passes. There is thankfully little disturbance. Primrose occasionally stares across the fire to the thief, who is also awake. He occasionally looks towards where the waggoneer is loudly snoring. Linde also stirs here and there, staring up at the moonlit sky overhead. There is no sudden movement, no ambush.
Morning light creeps across the Flatlands eventually. Where the travelers rest, the light peeks between the stones that rise around them in mounds, casting the first shadows of the day.
The waggoneer yawns and checks his horses, telling the travelers they will be departing soon. They had best prepare to move out quickly if they wished to reach Noblecourt before dark. So, they all hastily wipe down a bit and snack on rations before hopping back onto the road eastward.
"So, what are we looking for in Noblecourt again?" Tressa asks the ones in the wagon as their ride bounces along, "I know I can go just about anywhere..."
"You're looking for treasure, so that is easy enough," Primrose chuckles, "I ... have more business to do."
"Is it gotta do with the ... Parlor?" Alfyn asks a bit from behind as he jogs along.
Primrose doesn't answer.
"Have any of you been to Noblecourt? I haven't..." Ophilia looks around at them all, "What should we expect there?"
"Well, as the name suggests and as lady Susanna advised, the place is full of influential rich families, I believe," Olberic says as he keeps up easily, "So, perhaps a lot of mansions and... such?"
"That would be the gist of it, yes," Cyrus points out, "There is also a museum, I believe, in Noblecourt. It is primarily dedicated to art, some of the finest across the continent. Due to the heavily privatized nature of the town, there are libraries and many institutions owned by prestigious families rather than public. I think there were some interesting theses written by the economics department on the effects of private noblesse oblige that are best observed in Noblecourt. It creates a very unique social environment argued by some to be only possible through the accrual and locking of wealth within the area. This has led to some critics about-"
"Art, huh? I don't wanna submit some boring old painting for my treasure..." Tressa mumbles tentatively.
None of this interested the thief, who says nothing. Cyrus mentioned libraries... sometimes libraries might have things on display... and if they are owned by a rich family, then, maybe... One thing leads to another. But the thief knew better than to get his hopes up with his luck.
"It is a nice place," Simeon smiles to Ophilia, "With its own charms and, well, its own quirks. But that is anyplace, really."
"That tells us literally nothing," Tressa blurts.
"See fer yerself, ya jabberin' lot!"
Primrose pokes her head out at the waggoneer's provocation. Ahead, she sees those familiar stone walls that surround the raised city of Noblecourt. As the wagon trots down the hill onward, she feels an inexplicable mix of emotions rising alongside her nostalgia.
"Ah! So close already!" Cyrus exclaims, "The architecture is certainly reminiscent of home! See the fachwerk clearly outlining the beam structures visible from even here? You'll notice this style of housing in both the Frostlands and Flatlands, but less so in places like the Coastlands or Highlands! That is because access to the wooden materials-"
"Oh, how beautiful!" Ophilia exclaims.
Olberic glances at the higher buildings that rise above the walls from within. They seem to be of different construction. Almost like bastions within the city. There is also plenty of verdant growth. Nearing the wall, he glances at some of the housing that is erected just outside the open gate. They don't scream of luxury, but they don't seem dilapidated, either. Their wagon stops before the bridge that crosses over the river to the formal boundary of the city.
"Alright, ride's over," The waggoneer huffs, "Off you go."
"Yeesh, learn some customer service if you want a tip…" Tressa mumbles under her breath.
She had paid half up front and now counts out the rest of the coins for their trip. The waggoneer just tips his hat and looks for a place to rest his horses before he probably leaves.
"Well… I'll be," Simeon looks over the bridge beside Prim, "It's… as if nothing changed, right?"
"… No. Everything's changed," The dancer replies softly as she takes the first step to cross.
…
Venturing forth, the party walks into a sight they had sorely missed since their long stint in the Frostlands. Noblecourt has pristine stone streets with aesthetic greenery decorating between its spacious manors and their yards. At the entry of the city is many of the shops are, before the elevated town square. Further in, one can see it to be a more residential area, with many large houses. As Cyrus pointed out, the houses here are mixes of wood and stone. Roofs are reddish-brown to other hues of brown. Ivy creeps up the walls of the elevated areas where stone is exposed in an aesthetic manner, rather than abandoned.
"The majority of Noblecourt's populace comprise the Flatlands body of aristocracy," Cyrus babbles on as the party enters and takes in the initial sights, "There is a lot of history concerning the autonomy of this city due to the concentration of influence and money. You will see, however, a rather unspoken difference between East and West. Merchants, servants, and others live on the West, whilst the greatest and most lavish manors reside to the East..."
Alfyn frowns a bit as he glances around. They entered from the west, and he can see there are people that seem more down on their luck here, tired and such. Ophilia notices similarly, though she seems a bit gladdened at the sight of a church steeple farther in east that reaches over some rooftops.
"So, where do we hit up first?" Tressa looks to the rest of the party as they stop to the side of the main square, "I'm gonna hit up the market! Wherever it is..."
"I do think we should continue to travel in pairs at the very least," Olberic advises, "I have no problem accompanying any of you."
"I don't need a babysitter," Therion scoffs and starts to walk off, "You guys go do your own thing."
To his surprise, Linde cordons him off, crouched before his path.
"What?"
"Tis not wise. Hath thou already forgotten what hath transpired in Atlasdam?" H'aanit asks offhandedly, looking judgingly at the thief.
"... Buzz off," Therion scowls.
"We're just worried for you..." Ophilia offers.
"Yeah! Aw, c'mon, Therion!" Alfyn wrangles an arm around the thief's shoulder, "Jus' let us come with ya! Any one of us!"
"Tis a good compromise," Olberic looks to the thief, "Come now. You can't be so reckless to run into possible danger solo."
The thief feels the dancer's eyes on him and his frown deepens. He feels his freshly healed wounds itch. It wasn't that he was being reckless. However, should he need to do any thievery, he would prefer that he not be slowed down nor witnessed and judged.
But, if he has to choose someone...
"I willen comen with thee," H'aanit sighs and surprises everyone with a resigned answer. Linde gives a knowing and catty nod.
"Eh? Really, H'aanit?" Alfyn looks to the huntress.
"Ah, I thought you would be accompanying the sister cleric," Primrose says offhandedly.
"... I thinken t'would be more difficult for him to evaden me and Linde," H'aanit reasons. Therion rolls his eye.
"Evade? Ah, I can see that..." Simeon raises an eyebrow.
"Tsk... do whatever you want," The thief scoffs.
"Well, that works out. I'll go with Lia, then!" Alfyn grins at the cleric, "I'll go wherever ya need! I wanna look around anyhoo."
"Ah, thank you, Alfyn," Ophilia smiles.
"I will be with Simeon," Primrose states as if it were to be expected.
"In that case, I will accompany both Tressa and Cyrus, since we have an odd number," Olberic reasons, "Hmm... it may be a bit difficult if you both have heavily divergent paths."
"I mean, I wanna look at the markets! Where else?" Tressa says as-a-matter-of-factly.
"And I want to peruse any of the libraries available," Cyrus says predictably.
"You have your work cut out for you," Primrose teases Olberic.
"Well, we will figure it out," Olberic clears his throat, "How about we meet back up at an inn later?"
"We better get somewhere cheap! My funds are squeezed after the ride and Stillsnow... plus I couldn't do any marketing up there!" The merchant sighs, "Anyone know any place."
"It's reasonable that we ought to look in West Noblecourt. It ought to be cheaper," Cyrus reasons.
Therion doesn't really wait and starts off on his own already. Linde tails him, growling.
H'aanit sighs and glances to the others, "We willen finden thee when we finish, then. Alfyn, do taken care of Ophilia."
"You got it!" Alfyn gives the huntress a thumbs up as she goes off to tail the thief, "Be careful, you two!"
"They'll be fine..." Primrose looks to Tressa, "I think I saw only one inn on the west side. We'll find you there, alright?"
"Eh, okay..."
The dancer and playwright leave the group as well. Olberic frowns slightly.
"What's up, Ol'Berg?" Alfyn looks to the warrior.
"... Nothing," The warrior sighs, "Alright, we will meet at the west inn around sundown for supper, perhaps?"
"Sounds good!" Alfyn grins and looks to Ophilia, "Alright, Lia! Wherever you wanna go, I'll follow!"
"Uhm..." Ophilia gives a nervous smile, not really having a destination in mind since this wasn't a stop meant for her, "H-How about we visit the church in town?"
"Alright!"
The remaining three travelers watch as the apothecary and cleric run off. Tressa's eyes light up as she looks to the side and sees an open-air market within their vicinity. She eagerly goes for it, followed by Cyrus and ultimately Olberic.
...
Therion does find it a bit more difficult to lose the trail of the beast tailing him. And if Linde follows, H'aanit isn't much farther behind. It's like they're connected or something.
"Tsk..." He finally stops along a stone ridge overlooking a small grove of trees between the main square and East Noblecourt. He makes himself scarce among the well-dressed pedestrians walking by. Linde sits at his feet with a catty face.
"... Where doth thou wanten go?" H'aanit asks as she approaches.
"... The tavern, if there is one in this hoity-toity place," Therion grumbles in a low voice, "Or the market... Wherever has people gossip."
"What doen thou seeken there?"
"If you stop asking, you might find out," Therion grunts and keeps his eyes peeled for any conspicuous stones as he continues through the crossing.
There aren't necessarily thick crowds crossing into East Noblecourt. The stone steps here are much better paved. One almost gets the impression of a well-built city underfoot with the higher walls on this end of the city, as well as the sturdy stone buildings and other architecture lacking on the West side.
"And how's the missus these days?"
"Oy, she's yanking my trousers left and right. It's that babe at home taking up all her attentions. And woe is me who has to feed both of them!"
"I saw a beautiful gem the other day on lady Yarl's neck. She says she bought it from the quaintest of places... Imagine, Quarrycrest! She says it was a sky stone or something... unfortunately, they apparently sold out when I asked..."
"There was a lot of ruckus about the price of mutton! Something about flocks being hunted by some beast out there... How dreadful!"
Menial and meandering mundane banter... Useless. H'aanit seems to be ignoring all this, understandably.
"... Ah, there be the tap house," H'aanit points helpfully.
Therion takes a glance at the place. It's a bit posher than your usual swanky tavern, perhaps the most upscale of the ones they'd seen yet. It still has the classic sign of a tankard to denote its purpose, but the building has an arched stone threshold and a grand roof. Cobbleston's beer hall was big. This is big and somehow also elegant. There aren't barrels set out for people to banter over. Instead, there are trimly-dressed folks that just walk by. Some appear in traveler's clothes, others in more expensive wear. It looks to be a small plaza of sorts, one of many along this main street through East Noblecourt.
"Huh. Fancy."
Before he can even take a step, though, there is a sudden shout from just across the building to the other side. Heads turn and people gasp as red stains the cobblestones underfoot. Linde bristles as the scent enters her nostrils.
Blood.
And in broad daylight, in public.
"Dear!"
A woman's shrill cry interrupts the lull of daily chores and many eyes now focus on a woman cradling the body of a man in her arms. A bloody wound bleeds out from his abdomen. From the blood, it seems to be deep... perhaps fatal. The man is unconscious despite the woman desperately crying out to him.
"Oh, oh no... No, please... Dear! Please don't let this be so..." She looks around with tears streaming down her face, "Please, can anyone help?!"
Therion glances around. To his relief, it doesn't seem like the apothecary is here. That idiot would leap at the chance...
"What hath passed?" H'aanit asks, surveying the scene as everyone just stands back, "The man needeth aid."
She's met with grumbles and low murmurs of people who do nothing. They avert their eyes and mumble something about "it's such a shame" or "too bad..."
"Isn't that Darwin?" Someone whispers in the crowd that Therion can hear.
"Yeah... he's the second one this month, that'd be..."
"Getting on his lordship's bad side is just asking for trouble, though..."
"Poor sap..."
So, the man made some enemies? It wasn't just some random murder after all. But it means nothing to Therion.
From the other side of the plaza, armored guards approach and muscle their way through the crowd. They look about sternly. Their helmeted leader barks at the crowd to disperse, calling them "slack-jawed fools."
Therion sees H'aanit's face look with disapproval at the scene. He nudges her side with his elbow and points to the tavern. She reluctantly follows him there with Linde. They leave behind the grieving widow and murder scene.
"... Tis not normal, I thinke," H'aanit says in a low voice as she and Therion enter the spacious tavern, "To haven been attacked so..."
"He was just unlucky. Don't worry about it," Therion sighs.
The interior of this tavern is well-light. It's not dingy at all as one might have expected. The overhead architecture shows the graceful wooden bones, accented by stone pillars that reach down to the waxed wooden floor. There are clean braziers alongside a large chandelier, all having been upkept instead of dripping with wax. The bar counter is empty on the patron side and faces the barrels behind that of the barkeep. The tables in the place are more lively and populated, but not by a lot.
"Welcome," The elderly barkeep greets them from the counter, "Oh, pets are welcome, too."
Therion nods and gestures to sit at a table by the window. H'aanit goes and looks around at the surrounding seats. Linde sits by her feet.
"So? Whatten doth thou seeken here?"
"Some information on general stuff, maybe," Therion sighs, tired of the interrogation, "You don't do this much, do you."
"Nay. Never needen I did to find myself in an alehouse."
"Well, I guess it's time I teach you something," The thief scoffs.