Wow, that's a lot of bottles. He can't quite tell what liquid it contains, but following the theme, this has to be some really old wine. He bets this tastes good...
	Taste... It's been far too long. He can't remember the taste of anything anymore.

	He stacked two of the crates on top of another two, then carried them close to his chest as he carefully scaled back up the stairs, and into open air.
	He lay there at the floor beside the stairs, ridding himself and these crates of any water by evaporating them into steam or pouring the water in the crates back into the stairs. Now that he can see, these are whiskey and vodka. Each crate seems to have a piece of paper but it's unintelligible due to the water swirling the ink.

	No way in hell he's carrying these throughout this entire journey. It wouldn't be quite a good thing if the team gets drunk at an inopportune time, either. However, disposing of these wines would be such a waste.
	An idea pops in his mind. He takes out one bottle of whiskey, and places it near the first step to the sunken stairs, above a metal plate that he just freshly minted, with writings etched onto it that will hopefully be read later. He carries the four crates of wine and skates out and away, back to Rascade.
	He tears through the marsh, a wall of mud emerging in his wake, yet he himself was dry, for it is physically impossible for him to be behind or beside himself.

	On the way to Rascade, he trips once on a rock and hurtles down the ground, rolling. However, with his experience and presence of mind, he makes the four crates stay afloat with [i]Core Spreading[/i] and [i]Telekinesis[/i] while recovering from his roll back into proper standing position, gently catching the crates that floated into his arms, without losing any speed.

[center]~[/center]
	Two hours later...
	"[color=fdc68a]Henri Dominique Gentileschi. I am the one you call the poltergeist of the castle, the repairman... the prince's tutor.[/color]"
	His iron kite shield floats on its own, pressing on the northern gate guard's neck. It's not sharp, but the speed at which it flew from Henri's back, as well as his demeanor -- his forward lean, his facial scowl -- unintendedly caused by the exhaustion of using [i]Telekinesis[/i] on himself and four other large objects for two straight hours... It all worked out to be quite intimidating.
	"[color=fdc68a]Have I refreshed your memory yet? Let me in.[/color]"

	The shield gently flew back to Henri's back, and he was about to walk past the guard when he remembered. "[color=fdc68a]Ah. Did you happen to see an adventuring group of three? Two short teens led by a blond elf?[/color]"