Ebri Zol announced that she too would be going about the city, as she had plans to seek the bookseller once more, he being one of the few bright spots and a haven of repose in this fetid nightmare that was all too common an example of
city.
And so, while she did not walk with the others, but went about her own tasks, she
trailed Melisande, blending into the crowd some distance back, shopping casually, and watching as she walked in her cloak with Sebastion. The soldier would protect her, Ebri felt certain , from ordinary harm.
At Karbal's she would relate the tale of their experiences below the city, and ask for more complete information about the slavers' operations and the cult of Gilamesh as related to their plans. She would relate as well their future plans to loot the mages' tower, and get his opinion of Ecurius. In addition, she would report on her use of the new weapon and thank him for it.
* * *
Outside in the open air, Sebastion felt a little more at ease. His cloak was flung back, letting the breeze ruffle through his tousled, sandy hair and catch at his cloak. The air smelt different - used - here, not the clean, crisp mountain air with which he'd grown up at home.
For the first time, really, since he'd left, he began to miss home. He'd thought of his father, and the familiar comforts of the stable and the foundry, but now he wanted to be clear of the oppression of the compression of the city - but not before he'd made use of it.
Stepping close to the cloak swathed Melisande with a slight smile he set off, the sheathed two-bladed sword swinging lightly at his side like a traveller's walking-staff. He'd acceded to the pretense of anonymity by leaving the black-bladed sword behind, as though his features were going to pass unnoticed in the city.
"Kale, where was the armourer you hinted at - if I need any adjustments made, we'd best head there first." he said, as they reached the gates of the compound. "It'll give us a chance to get the rest of the requests, and perhaps something to eat, before we head out."
* * *
It wasn't long, then, before Ebri decided upon a dire need to reenter the city as well. Kale looked sidelong at her, frustrated that despite her new magic earring, her hearing was as bad as ever. Another calculated risk no doubt, to contivert Wolf's wishes, just to continue bookshopping at the local stall.
In a rush, Kale regretted he had caved in to Melisande's youthful exuberance, her desire to come along. Then Ebri smoothed her way into the enterage: if the woman walked into Naseria Palace, she would sit in the king's lap and assume the big gold chair was all for her. And certainly, would have a perfectly logical excuse for her decision. Obviously, it was the only chair available in the room... and wouldn't it be rude if she was made to stand?
So the inconvenience fell on the party. Kale tried briefly to get moving before Melisande returned from her cloak hunt, but in the end it would seem they would move out together.
But if disapproval was clear in coming, accomodation made its quick counterattack. Wolf had acceded to the women's gestures, if reluctantly. In the future, Kale would have to be sure to amplify Wolf's blood-won advice, obviously an inclined eyebrow from the grizzled warrior was not enough to deter the women from their shopping missions.
Greater wisdom did not deter Kale, either. He had some new duds to pick up, and he did not intend to head to the alchemists' tower without them. Yet, on the way out the door, the young mercenary lifted his sword from the table. Rigging back and cross-holstered, the blade disappeared beneath his cloak- insurance, at least, for the trouble that always seemed to come. Picking up the unclaimed curing potion from the table, he considered flashing a 'What me, worry?' look to Wyshira before his sour mood spoiled any opportunity for humor. If his look to the priestess said anything, it was 'Here we go again.'
Slowly accepting the things he couldn't change, Kale focussed instead on how the crew could minimize their increased risk. Responding to Sebastion's suggestion, the young mercenary planned for minimal exposure. "Ladies, we can take you both to the bookshop. Melisande, I can find you acid where I am going, and Sebastion, you and Wolf can go prospecting for armor." Kale had become painfully familiar with the streets surrounding his destination, while Sebastion would be hard-pressed to become overpowered or lost with Wolf around. And the women? Out of sight, out of mind... safely stored away.
Along the road, Kale took what opportunity he could to talk with the Huronese swordsman. "That double-blade looks a killer while mounted. How effective is it in an offhand strike?" Manners of shoptalk flowed from time to time. Melisande no doubt was none too interested, but the young mercenary was intrigued by the unworlded man who handled himself so skillfully in battle. Skill tempered with experience, perhaps the man could avoid the doom Kale feared for Ebri and anyone around her for too long.
Brief respite it would be, to visit Gimfin's incredible shop. He'd have to be sure to check if the man had a prosthetic brain, what to replace the unit of Kale's that was no doubt malfunctioning. It seemed a debacle, walking 'discreetly' as they did.
Maybe the gnome had time to work on something new and interesting... was sole consolation for the city trip.
* * *
The few hours the band had in the city were enough for them to deal with their varied needs. Sebastion was able to find an armourer with few problems; Melisande found her acid too, never realising that Ebri was shadowing her from close behind.
The armour, despite Sebastion's assumption, proved not to be any cheaper than at home, and his purse wouldn't stretch far enough to make the improvement worthwhile. Leaving the smith's with a slight pall about his sense of adventure, he followed the others back through the streets, veering off here and there to fetch things and all the while he talked quietly with Kale about tactics and techniques - professional discussions. The others were in discussion with a trader at a shop-front, discussing acid or something just as beyond his knowledge, when he turned to see a large crowd gathered round a paddock. The horses were tied off to the hitching rail of the shop, and Kale was close to them to keep an eye out, so Sebastion took the time to survey the stock being paraded for sale.
There was the full range, from sway-backed old mares fit only for the soap factories or the paper mills right through to good breeding stock and a racer or two. He watched a few heavy breeds pushed through, fifteen hands and more each with long coats and deeply curved backs, wondering what they'd be like as chargers, when it appeared.
It was still little more than a colt, bandy legged and without the bulk across the shoulders of an adult, but the ribcage was deep and straight sided and the eyes sparkled with wit. The youngster designated to parade him obviously knew little about horses, as he sawed away at the tether, and sent the colt skittering this way and that. Most of the watchers, of course, saw fault with the horse, but Sebastion knew enough not to judge harshly, and managed to put in a few good bids before the count stopped.
When they returned to the manor to finish their packing, Sebastion appeared more relaxed and happy, though whether it was for the visit to the horse-market or simply the fact they were leaving the city was unclear. When he made his slight detour, however, and reappeared leading the colt on a tether, the reason became obvious.
Black coated, in the main, with a few grey patches on the withers, he started his training almost as soon as they were out of the gates with simple following exercises, and Sebastion felt at home for the first time in a long time as he worked.
At the gnome artificiers, Kale picked up the masterfully crafted suit of chain that Gimfin had made for him, a vial of the acid that the gnome used for etching metals, and furthermore the short fellow showed him something he'd been working on after their last conversation; a spear fixed with a charge of smokepowder, though he had not time to test it out.
Ebri's report to Karbal was quick and concise, the Collector nodding gravely as he heard her tale of slavers and the dragon cult. He congratulated her on admriable work in expunging them, another threat to the Nephian cause removed. On the plans of looting the arcanist's tower, the Collector listened very carefully and promised that if he found out anything new about the tower he would endeavour to have her informed.
With their affairs in town finished, Wolf's urging to be quick having had its effects, they were able to make good distance that day. Having picked up those left behind at the estate, they had ridden out, heading eastwards.
* * *
Over a few days they covered much ground. It hadn't been long before they had left the heartlands, the domain of House Tarravus, and entered into the rougher, hilly lands of Merlihr where woodlands became thick forest and the way became harder. The eastern and southeastern reaches of Naseria were the lands of House Merlihr; in the direction they were heading, Wolf knew there to be some larger Merlihr settlements in the foothills of the Sarokeans, where the trade from smaller mining communities came in.
The people of Merlihr subsisted largely from agriculture, though here in the east the noble family had many mines which plumbed the rich seams of metal ore beneath the earth, providing a steady flow of raw materials to arm the warriors of Naseria. The actual capital of the ergion was to the south of the path the party would take; the citadel of the Iron Hawks, right on the very reaches of civilisation, was closer to where they would wander but nonetheless there were no plans to go directly via that place.
All the time as they travelled the Sarokeans stood proud on the eastern horizon, the highest reaches of the range glittering with snow and ice even now, in summer. Soon they would have to wander amidst those mighty peaks themselves.
The heavy forests of Merlihr provided Burl with a longing he hadn’t felt since he had ventured out on his own away from the safety of his home with Raymond. He now knew however that he could never return except for short stays. His new travels were showing him a world he either couldn’t remember from his youth or he had never seen before. The men and women he was traveling with were now becoming his family, his friends.
* * *
Kandathra was the name of the small town they stopped in at, probably the last settlement of any size they would encounter now. Here they were in the foothills of the Sarokean mountains; the forests of Merlihr had petered out some miles back and instead it was scrubby land they traversed now. Kandathra was walled with a wooden palisade, yet with a fair number of buildings clustered within. Tall wooden and metal constructions at one end of the settlement indicated it had grown up around a mine, though now the apparatus seemed quiet and unmoving; perhaps the mine had given out and now this town in turn served as a focus point for other nearby mines.
The night closed in as they settled around a table in the town's single tavern, full of sombre men drinking quietly.
* * *
Burl had seemed nervous almost as soon as they passed within the town gates. He confided to Wyshira that the place reminded him of the town he had been in that had been sacked by orcs, and where he had been taken prisoner by the Pendarmes. Wyshira turned to the necromancer, sympathy softening her bright green eyes, and took his arm. "Burl, back then you travelled alone. Now you have friends with you. You shouldn't worry so much!" She smiled reassuringly as they took their seats at one of the large, oaken tables.
Settling into the seat in the inn, Sebastion felt a little saddle-weary, but generally satisified with the day's events, and sat back to eat his meal as he started to plan the colt's training in full, visions of charging into battle behind a couched lance flowing through his head.
* * *
Next update: Melisande and Wyshira effectively summarise most of the campaign events so far 
Nonetheless I'll try and get the occasional one done 
