'Probably why they're the Captains and we're just lowly ole Sworn,' Willard replied, sparing Euphemia a smile. The best of the best, it was their job to keep the Order whole, and the lands they protected safe. No simple task, not by any measure of the word. That they shone so brightly in Effie's eyes came as no surprise to the young ranger. Hells, if anything, he was in awe of them, too.

But enough about home. The more Willard thought about Astenvale, the more he began to realise just how much he missed it when he was out, ranging or patrolling with a dusker companion.

Letting the conversation simmer and settle between them, the dawnling took to watching the surround, his horse picking its own path across the land. A little encouragement was required here and there to keep him moving. A bit of praise or a flick of the reins. A docile creature, it did as bid much of the time. In return, Will never pushed too hard, favouring thorough sweeps over fast ones.

Out in the wilds, being sure of a thing was the only way to stay alive. That, or blind luck.

'First waypoint's coming up,' he said, breaking the mile-long silence behind them. 'Weather's clear. No smoke, no disturbance. All is as it should be,' he shook his head, amused by the notion. 'Anything on your end?'
 
Effie chuckled at Willard's comments. Who knew, perhaps one day either of them could shine as brightly as the Captains. Well perhaps not Helena, already so skilled at a young age. They were leagues behind in her strength, but then again the knight didn't necessary wish for that level of skill. Such things often came with more responsibility and she didn't wish for that. Not when she had so much of herself and her abilities to figure out.

Their horses continued down the road, steady with each tread. Silence shared between the two knights. Easy and comfortable. She enjoyed the quiet moments of just being with nature. Enjoying the breeze on her face. The smell of the forest that passed by on either side.

"No, I haven't seen anything either." She said as she turned her shroud enhanced gaze about the trees. "Though I wouldn't expect anything this close. There are enough patrols coming through here that travel within a day or two of the monastery is rather safe now."

The Knights were making a difference. Even with all the horrors that they'd been facing recently, they were helping to protect the forest and the people who lived near to monastery. There was some small comfort in that, but not everyone was so lucky. Not with the cultist starting to press into those invisible boundaries and the blight appearing more and more. How long would this bubble of safety and comfort last before it too was intruded on.
 
'Never hurts to make sure,' Willard replied, shading his eyes with the bridge of his hand. 'The beast-talkers have mentioned no sightings in the past month. But you know how it is. The situation can change in a heartbeat.' Taking in the scene from atop a small rise in the landscape, the dawnling nodded, content in their lack of findings. 'Let's carry on,' he said, taking the lead once more.

There was a small settlement eleven miles east of the waypoint. A fledgling community with about a hundred souls all told. Humans and sun-elves, and a number of devahni that had decided to put down roots after years spent on the Road.

We can water and feed the horses there, thought the dawnling, and maybe ask around for any news in the area. Information-gathering was his primary directive, after all. Keeping the land and its people free and safe from harm ran adjacent to that. 'Told you it was going to be a scorcher.' Will commented as the Sun rose high and hot across the blue sky. Twisting in his saddle, the knight reached into a saddlebag to retrieve his hat. Wide-brimmed, light, and made of straw. Perfect for sun-blessed days.

'What do you think? Suits me, right?' Smiling slightly, Willard showed it off in the hope that Euphemia's shroud-sight wouldn't keep her from having a laugh.
 
The knight reached for the waterskin that hung from her saddle, taking a pull of the cool water within. Whoever decided to spell the skins to ensure the water stayed cool was a genius. "With the cultists getting more bold, we have to be vigilant." She agreed. As they reached the waypoint, she felt the horses turn. It seemed that they were heading toward Waekefield, a small farming community that was a good place to make their first stop.

At Willard's question, the Dusker cast her shroudsight spell even though the straw was dead, it still contained the faintest hint of the shroud. The corner of Effie's lip curled up. "It certainly will protect you from the sun." She said giving neutral agreement, while not so subtly hiding her growing smile behind her hand. After a moment she lowered it, though the smile still lingered.

She raised a hand to shield her face from the sun as she looked up a moment, as if she could see the sun. "Don't suppose you have a second one in your bag. I didn't plan well to account for the sun." She could feel the sun's rays against her skin. Part of her wanted to just turn her face to it, like a plant reaching to the light, but she also knew that she tended to burn in such conditions. If worse came to worse she could pull out her cloak to save her skin, if only to be miserable under the heat of the fabric.

"I might have to see if I can get such a wonderful piece of fashion at Waekefield. Otherwise I'm going to be as bright red as a cooked crawfish before the end of the day." Effie said thinking aloud. She'd survive the few miles to the small settlement, but if the weather held for the rest of their time on the road then she'd be in trouble.
 
'Afraid not.' Willard replied, watching as Euphemia gazed heavenward. A decidedly normal gesture. 'Though, I s'pose I'd be willing to part with mine, if just until we reach Waekefield.' The Sun was a powerful adversary, easily underestimated, but a good hat was worth its weight in coin, the dawnling believed.

Plucking it from his head, he leant from the saddle to place it on Effie's.

'You'll have to adjust it yourself,' he grinned, a hint of tease hidden amongst the drier tones. 'My hair's not as long as yours. Not that I'm complaining, mind. A bird's nest like that must be a real nightmare on a day like this.' Sunshine and spotless skies. Birdsong and whispering winds. Heat that made you sweat regardless of whether you were working hard or not. It's almost unseasonably hot, thought the ranger, tempted to take off his gambeson and ride topless, but seeing it for what it was: a bad idea.

You never knew when you might need the added protection. And he didn't fancy being turned into a pomegranate, or a crawfish, as Effie liked to put it.

'It's been a while since I've seen the sea.' Willard confessed, ever mindful of the world around them. 'Were you from there originally? The coast, meaning.'
 
Last edited:
Before she could protest, Willard had swung in his saddle depositing the straw savior onto her head with a gentle plop. "Well now I'm going to feel guilty if the sun roasts you because you so graciously gave up your shade." She smiled at his kindness though, adjusting the hat by using it to tuck the long offending tresses up and into the bucket of the hat. She could already feel the difference thanks to the hat's protection and it's secondary use of keeping her hair up off the back of her neck. It would definitely be a nightmare later when she'd have to brush out the mess. She should have took the time to braid it up into a crown before they left.

"No. I'm not from the coast. My home was closer to the mountains south nearer Crown's Hold, but crawfish are just like . . . river shrimp. I think a more common name is mudbugs among the villages." She couldn't say she missed home, not that there was anything left of it. She suppose it could have been rebuilt, but she'd never cared enough to check. What had made it home had long since been gone.

"What kind of place are you from?" She asked him since that seemed to be the topic of the moment. The town of Waekefield drawing nearer as they rode. She realized that she didn't know much about Willard. The other Sworn was a quiet one. She could understand that, often liking the quiet herself. The monastery was a busy place and sometimes the quiet had to be cherished.
 
'From the Highlands, originally. I'm told I still possess a hint of an accent, though, I could not say for certain.' His memories of home were vague at best. He knew he hailed from a family of hunters. The longbow he carried with him had been a gift from his distant father, and he had a lock of his mother's hair which he kept hidden in the depths of his saddlebags, lest he be accused of harbouring a sense of sentimentality.

Their faces were but a blur, alas. A part of the greater mystery surrounding his place of birth.

'It's said to be a place of great beauty. High crags, deep lochs, glens and glades, and waterfalls made of storm-light.' He smiled, then, the longing in his heart leaving him with a pit in his stomach, one he sought to fill with continued conversation. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he said, 'I hope to return there one day, should duty allow. Who knows, maybe you and a few other sworn-kin would care to accompany me? Experience for yourselves the joys of a land so near... and yet so far away.'
 
"I would be honored to accompany you to your home." She said honestly, as they rode down the road, the straw hat's large rim bouncing in time with the steps of her horse. Fingers reaching up to brush a lock of dark hair behind her ear as the strands tickled at her face where they'd come loose from the long braid that hung down her back.

"There is perhaps a hint of an accent, but my hearing is keener than most so it's easier to pick such things out. I can tell you have a longing for your home, that you miss it. It's there in your voice too." There was no judgement in her voice, just observation. To have that feeling there layered and audible in his words means he had to leave something meaningful behind. Family she'd guess, but she wasn't going to pry. She knew how hard it was to talk about things lost and left behind.

"It does sound beautiful, the way you describe it. I wish I could see it some day." Really see it. In something more than just the soft glows of her shroud sight. "Maybe after everything has settled down here. Hard to justify such a far trip when we're needed here." Her voice had an apologetic tone in it. If she could have helped him to go see his home again now, she would have, but they had duties, responsibilities to the people around the monastery. Nothing that was so easy to get away from. Maybe in a few months things would be settled. Maybe this cult that seemed intent on destroying everything, would fall apart. She could pray.
 
Nodding, Willard let the matter lie. One day, he promised himself, eyes set to the horizon, beyond which lay a world neither of them had yet seen. 'Thank you,' he smiled softly. 'You're right, of course. We are needed here, though a part of me wishes we weren't.' It wasn't just the Cult. The Vayd was under threat from within and without. Willard had seen first-hand land infected with Blight. The cost it wrought upon those who'd once lived there.

A problem for another time.

'Waekefield's not far now. Just over the next rise.' The woodlands receded the closer they grew to the small village. Farmland replaced the wash of green and brown with the gold of swaying barley. Small streams flanked the road to either side, passing through irrigation ditches to a small watermill located at the edge of the village. A simple place, devoid of magitech. For the most part, anyhow.

'Shall we swing my the merchant's first, see if we can't find you a hat of your own?' The Sun beat Willard's sweat-soaked brow, and for a moment he envied Effie and the fieldhands their straw hats. The price of being a gentleman, he smiled, shook his head.

'We can stop by the ealdorman's hut afterwards. Find out if anything's changed since last we were here.'
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom