AANZU
"This one wonders how the little bird knows about him and Ravenblade," he says while his hand reach for his sword, resting on the hilt for now.
Despite his suspicions, the dragonborn takes another few steps forward, towards the attractive figure and into the green.
The woman laughs gently as she finds a place behind a fallen trunk. “Little bird” – she repeats, amused. The entire area is filled with moist and mud that clings to the draconian’s boots.
“Don’t we always learn the things that interest us?” – she smiles, but does not dare denying the unfathomable and unshaken visage of the prince. “She herself told me – unwillingly, I might add. She found her way up here, and sought protection among the inhabitants of these plateaus. She feared the Duke himself might turn her over to have your allegiance, and so she fled…” – she points towards the way.
“Now, it is up to you to decide if she knows you’re coming or if she believes to be safe here.” – she smiles softly. “And in that regard… As well as what pertains her whereabouts… Maybe… I can help.”
HARFIK
Is this road often used? If this one of the poachers that you mentioned could it be trouble?
“Not as it used to be…” – Prosper moves forward wearing a concerned visage. “The road scum don’t use horses, though, and rarely attack from below…” – he points around as he moves towards the edge. “They prefer the trees.”
LYLLIE
The gnome follows the travelers as they disappear behind a curve. Almost at the end of their climb, just before vanishing, one of the dwarves serves himself of a looking glass, studying the highs fom which Lyllie observes them.
ICOSA/KETHRA
"Do you think they are a threat?"
Taking the question to himself, the third, still unnamed servant takes a peek over the edge and laughs out loud.
“Only to your coin purse!” – he keeps manning the boxes with a bit of effort. “The guild’s probably here to have a bite at your discoveries.” – he looks at Kethra with a disdainful smile. “Now, now… Are those Fairwalker cloaks I see? Looks like you got some competition ‘round ‘ere, guardswoman!” – he goes on with his tasks, satisfied with the surprise.
EVERYONE (EXCEPT AANZU)
The cart arrives, pulled by a pair of gasping oxen. The dwarves, older and younger, seem to be used to the drill. They climb down quickly, one of them biting a pipe hard between his teeth, the other one holding on to a pointy hat, to prevent the wind from taking it away. The riders make no motion towards the cart, remaining at the back of their horses for a few moments. Two of them – a woman and a man of tanned features – look like warriors, foreigner to Wellington. In the back, a finely dressed elf woman holds the grimoire Lyllie saw before. The last member of the group is an elfic girl as well, skinny as they come, even for a woman. She holds her cloak closed and her head low.
“Prosper!” – the dwarf in the pointy hat comes forward. “Why didn’t you tell me you were setting camp? We might have travelled together! You know I enjoy your company so!”
“Atir…” – Prosper moans. “I take it that you brought your masters’ junk along…”
The two measure each other as the dwarves make quick way of unloading the cart. The elfic mage comes forward, ignoring the servants and addressing the party, as her companions climb down from their horses to settle down themselves.
She approaches, saluting the companions.
“I am Eilúvit of White Wood, riding under the banners of the Fairwalkers… for the time being. Our employers – the Merchants Guild – wish to extend its’ services for as long as you plan to remain up here. Our personnel shall offer protection to your caravan and we shall have the necessary resources available… For a fee, of course.”
[Kethra knows that the Duke has forbidden the guilds to course through the superior valleys and engage in exploration. Technically, they are not breaking his edits, but they’re dangerously close to it.]
Eilúvit then turns to Lyllie.
“You are the sage of Glimmerdale, are you not?” – she smiles, as if forgetting the words uttered just a moment ago. Her manners are somewhat machinic and distant, matching the fading blue of her eyes. “I have heard a lot of your explorations. In fact, we’ve heard a lot about all of you.” – she smiles a pleasant, yet distant, smile.
The tanned warriors move forward now, after throwing pelts and bedrolls on the floor. Prosper measures them both and remains silent, a distrustful look under his thick brows. The warriors measure Kethra and Harfik, both with mocking smiles upon their faces, and then proceed to inspect the rest of the camp, almost as if everything there belonged to them. The last member of the Fairwalker party remains behind, studying both Icosa and Yttrian from afar. Despite the peaceful words, there’s tension in the air, as if the mercenaries were meditating on possibilities.
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