The party soon reconvenes at the stables outside of town, Hartleigh having said he'd catch up with them shortly. They mention his involvement and the groom agrees to defray payment for the horses and tack; he seems to think that being fondly remembered by adventurers, and clients of a businessman who makes more than the entire rest of the town put together, will put their village on the map and get him far more new custom than he could possibly ask you for anyway.
You've completely finished selecting your mounts, getting them properly tacked and harnessed, and are ready to ride out when Hartleigh shows up, aback a creature that is the right size and shape to be a horse, but seems to be made entirely of interlocking plates of metal over a frame of black wood, with tiny jets of steam shooting out of one or another of its joints every so often. The mage has traded his forge-cladding for a tough traveler's jerkin and a utility belt full of potions and wands and scrolls; you also recognize a few tools of the thief's trade which seem a trifle incongruous, but then you know that the forgemaster has come quite a long way from whatever his origins were. "Well, as Qwyn always used to say, destiny never waits on our pleasure; shall we follow its call?"