"I will not pry into your past, or your network." The orc caught Jazdia before the latter entered a room. "But I require your words that it will not negatively affect the mission at hand."
Jazdia was clearly not pleased with this untimely interruption. Though Matilda's suspicion was probably justified, they had all the chance in the world to join in and listen when she had a talk with Baker. Heck, it even would save her time from explaining to their team leader how the devices works.
"No, it will not," she replied with a deadpan expression. "On the contrary, I just solved our communication issue and ensured we can leave safely. From what I heard we probably have multiple targets, so splitting might be an option. Anything else? If not, I will take my leave and rest."
"None. That will be all, miss Jazdia. I will see you tonight."
There's nothing but the elf's own word to it, but Matilda had to be satisfied with that much for now. Returning downstairs, the orc sat alone and glowered at the rest of the room as she had her meal and waited for Anderson's delivery. She'll make sure no mistake will happen before the departure.
After that? Maybe she can catch some sleep.
*****
Time passed. People were roused an hour before midnight, to fully prepare for the rescue mission. Reinhold was already up and awaited, still rather haggard but with a hint of sharpness that was absent from his earlier form. As promised Anderson had horses and a wagon delivered earlier, though not in person considering the other tasks he had to do. Cedar shared the wagon with Veronica, the horses seemingly too distressed by the latter's presence to allow riding, everyone else having their own horse to ride. At the forefront rode Reinhold, the hunters' words rang true as he traced the terrain without much difficulty despite the limited lighting.
The half moon offered sufficient illumination to reveal dark silhouettes. Still, it made for a slow travel. The horses couldn't move quickly, for even an errant pebble or branch could prove hazardous should they trip on it. Besides, Reinhold regularly had to stop and wander sideways to ensure that they're on the right track. Progress, however, was steady.
It was about four hours in when the first issue arose. Reinhold's guidance had slowly led the party toward the village of Fanghorn, where one particularly lowkey baron Otto von Kruber resided and ruled from. Around five miles out, Matilda ordered for a scrying for confirmation. This particular scry seemed to have punched through a veil as she abruptly gained direct vision of the prince sleeping in a well-furnished room. He looked unharmed at a glance, but that's not the issue - it was the location, which pinged not from Fanghorn but from Pesti instead, about seven miles to a different direction. That village was governed by one Sir Caspar, who received the land for contribution on quelling a potential rebellion a few years ago.
It was three or less in the morning when Veronica reported her finding. It was the pinpointed location of the prince himself and his general well-being which apparently remained unspoiled for the past six days. What concerned them was the part where her finding conflicted with the hunter's account, which pointed to Fanghorn as the location where the kidnappers went.
Jazdia huffed and dismounted from her horse. It was not really a big deal for her, but she wanted to hear what the team leader had to say about this information, and the intel gatherer herself.
So the elf opened her pocketwatch and called for an emergency meeting. The map of Kindeance opened, and her enchanted arrows provided the light. Ten minutes at most.
"How much is the enemy on each site?" she began, eyeing Veronic. "In Pesti especially."
Of course it wouldn't be a smooth sailing. Which path would be the right one? It'll take at least half an hour to get to either villages, so checking both was still within the time table but that relied on one important thing. Which, considering how competent their enemies had been so far, was probably some wishful thinking.
"Veronica, what are the chances of our enemies noticing the scrying?" Matilda wasn't well-versed in matter of magic, but she had better general knowledge than most. Skilled far-seers were great boon, but nowhere near impossible to predict and counteract. "And as the elf said, try check the amount of potential hostile on both sites. Surprise may no longer be on the table now, if we are to divide our force we need to split it accordingly."
The journey through the night had so far been rather uneventful. Sight was sufficient enough to not have the horses break their legs but the journey was still slow. Kaito could not help but find the whole ordeal of traveling through the wilderness at night rather boring. Rather odd considering he was born as a nocturnal predator. Throughout the years the fox had grown rather accustomed to the human way of life.
However the night was about to turn more eventful as the party stopped due to Veronica spotting the prince with her scrying. “Well, isn’t that convenient, that the captors of the prince drop their guard after learning that we are on their tail.” Spoke the kitsune sarcastically. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his teammates, however the result of the scrying was rather fishy.
“Aaron Delving has already seen us fight and should be aware of Mathilda’s prowess as well. He knows that he isn’t dealing with just the run of the mill soldiers. If I was him I would try to have us split up and ambush 1 group at a time with my full force. But that is just me. Maybe I give him and his cronies too much credit.”
Cedar rode in the back of the wagon, not of necessity, but of quiet amusement and silent comfort. (For the most part.)
It had never occurred to these folks that he did not NEED to ride a horse at all to keep up, or even to ask him about it. It had occurred to him that the only person to see him naked and moving about on all fours, really moving about on all fours, (Dame Matilda had gotten a glimpse the day before, at the rendezvous at the old fort tower, but had said or remembered nothing. Maybe she was wanting to keep him fed and rested? She clearly didn't understand bears at this time of year.) Had been Henri, the tutor. That fellow had been chagrined to watch him sentry, investigate, and rig for hostility all around that tower for well over an hour in that condition.
What, did they think he could only run on two feet? That the thick pads on his palms he concealed with gloves, were just ornamentation?
He had hastily inhaled the last of the soup, after he had talked with baker about the matter earlier in the late afternoon. Had convinced the long eared man that he did not want to overwork Nina, when the same work had already been done elsewhere. He had been civil, he remembered, to Nina's relief, if the reactions he caught (from just out of eye shot) were an indication. Regardless, his dinner was still settling, so he was indeed quite content to laze in the bed of the wagon for the time being, though he felt a bit at odds about letting Reinhold do all the tracking in the dark. Full humans couldnt see like he could.
Smell like he could either.
He giggled, dodging a lurch from the wagon, at the double meaning, remembering the farmer's poor dog getting its first whiff of bearman urine hours earlier. 'Bigger and scarier than you thought huh, boy? Not like a man at all, am I right?' He had chortled inwardly then, when it had taken off like a terrified rabbit.
He yawned lazily, then tugged off his gloves. Then his boots.
He really was NOT accustomed to wearing them this long, and they constricted and bit at his extremities, especially the boots: ornaments meant for public exhibition, not for actual use or protection, they only forced his paws into shapes more pleasing for human eyes, rather than affording protection. He wore them for the benefit of others, rather than his own. Well, outside of being accidentally shot anyway, by terrified townsfolk and zealous guards. They, and the robes served a fine purpose for that. Ordinarily, he preferred to be unencumbered and unclothed. Movement through the woods was as sleek and easy as a fish in water that way. It was the way he had spent his early childhood, and was the way his younger siblings were right now, almost certainly-- snuggled up in a pile on the floor of his dad's cabin, with Mama, and his dad buried in the heap someplace. This would have been their last year denning at home; dad would have been working hard to finish their cabins in time for winter.
He was suddenly homesick, and contemplated removing his robes. He felt out of place, out of touch, far from home. There was a chill in the air, but it wasn't that bad yet. It would just prompt his fur to thicken, like always. Bushier, thicker, floofier. Not like the sleekness of spring and summer. He looked down at the sleeves of his robes. The hand woven fabric, made from hand spun thread. Somewhat clumsy stitching down the seams. It, along with the boots and gloves, were not meant for, nor made for long term use. A tool, like a knife, or a walking stick. A thing, a sign to indicate civility to humans, that they would otherwise be blind to. A physical embodiment of the love and protection his father had for him. All hand made by him. He struggled between the urge for physical comfort, to remove them, and the longing for emotional comfort, to keep them on-- as he huddled and tucked up like a big brown ball in the back of the wagon.
Abruptly, the wagon stopped, ending the reverie. Veronica (he was having difficulty with all the names-- another newcomer who's silent, still movements sent instinctual wariness, if not waves of terror down his back, sending the fur bristling whenever she was around. The decidedly nonhuman scent didn't help. He wondered how she managed to ride the horses... Maybe that's why she was in the wagon's front?) had gotten down and performed a far more skilled augury in a cup of water in the moonlight than Vanquis would every be capable of, (It didn't even explode! Not even steam!) As they approached a forlorn and somber fortress town. He could smell the smoke of the chimneys. The animals the people kept. All towns smelled like that. (Even though this one was still some distance off.) Even Hdur, where they just left, and where he had left Jorry, sleeping peacefully on that bed. He had dared not disturb her when he saw her that way. The shopping could come another day.
Now, people would be in beds here too, unwary and unaware of the group of frightening people parked in the edge of the woods in the silver light the moon was shedding, like furtive beasts in the night. He would know; he was one. Well, half anyway.
He overheard her talking with the others, mostly Matilda and the long eared woman, Jazdia, about the prince having been moved, and for the need to split up. He looked down at his robes once more, then decided. He folded them neatly, tucking the removed gloves into the folded parcel of fabric, then placing the large boots on top in the front of the wagon, before tying the seed pouch to his left wrist again, then languidly oozing off the back of the wagon on all fours. He figured being spotted and identified as a civilized creature was not what they really needed right now, since they would need to split up in secret. With his nose to the ground he was a better tracker anyway.
He lazily plodded up to the small knot of conspiring group leaders to let them know he could take the task of finding the path the kidnappers had taken from here along with Reinhold, who was struggling in the dark, while they decided among themselves, giving them a bit of a scare in the process.
Solomon dismounted the horse and joined Jazdia with the others as she called for a meeting. Given how close they were to their intended destination, something new must have appeared. The half moon gave just enough light to navigate under the cover of darkness, but not so much for the map Jazdia unfurled. Relying on the illumination of her enchanted arrow, she overlooked the map. They were headed to Fanghorn, but suddenly she was questioning Pesti.
“Aaron Delving? Ah yes. I recall someone mentioning his involvement during the altercation at Rascade. I’m afraid neither town is overseen by the Delving house. Unless of course he is conspiring with the nobles in treason. Every time you speak of his name, his notoriety only increases. Though even if he were involved, the current situation leaves us with a puzzle. Our eye witness and our seer.” said Solomon as he stood next to Kaito with the others. As it were, they were almost equal distant from either town but they could reach one before dawn broke. For certain it seemed like they knew which town the prince was being held. However, that relied on the trust of Veronica who was a very recent addition to the team. Then there was the reliance on Reinhold who was not around much longer. Veronica was the more reputable of the two, but given the situation with Aaron, reputation could be put into question. Solomon left the thoughts within his mind.
“He might have seen you fight, but how aware do you suspect he is of us? We are twice what he encountered last. So should he be involved, he may be caught under prepared once again.” said Solomon returning to the topic Kaito proposed. However, there was a more pressing issue at hand. The potential involvement of the Delvings would have to wait. Solomon spoke more towards the group, “Should the need arise for us to separate once again, you need not worry of numbers from my part. Similarly, I can call upon the shadows to scout ahead. In this manner, Lady Veronica need not expend any more energy to scry if we expect an altercation. It will be slower in comparison, but done before the hour.”
Location: Hdur, Kindeance. --> 5 miles outside Fanghorn
At the nosey redhead(?)'s attempts to appear clever, Veronica snorted, chest briefly heaving in a fairly restrained expression of dismissive mirth. "It's really a wonder what nonsense parents will fill their children's heads with to keep them in line." Sometimes, in hindsight, Veronica found she could be a little too free with her inherited surname. For all that he'd been such a major feature in her life for such a... comparatively mercifully short time to the rest of it, it somehow managed to often slip her mind that the man had history, and in this case, it seemed she had the misfortune to come across two individuals with personal familiarity with it. Still, she didn't feel like rewarding a stranger's prodding at this stage. Less was more. "Coincidences sure are funny things," she only replied blithely, leaving it at that.
To be fair, she wasn't exactly going out of her way to conceal her nature. If she really wanted to, maintaining her protective magic without closing the windows would have sufficed to continue muddying the waters. In fact, she determined it was only inevitable that her state of undeath would become apparent without a good deal of luck. Even so, it wasn't in her best interests to recklessly broadcast it, especially with strangers of debatable trustworthiness. Therefore, the wise thing to do would naturally be to confirm and deny nothing. For her own part, she simply tucked away the casual admission -or claim, rather- that the nosey, weird-smelling Kaito was a lot older than he looked. She wasn't yet sure exactly what that said about his nature, but it would be interesting to follow up on when convenient perhaps.
As it turned out, this appeared to be the right play. The shadowy, bundled man, Solomon... He seemed far more familiar than she'd like with her Sire. In spite of his claims that the meeting had been "less than hospitable", it had also been cordial, and Veronica wasn't sure what all that must have said about the man. For all she knew, "cordial" might mean Solomon was allies with her Sire, had a contract or some other inconvenient pact that would see her in some very hot water if she... Well, perhaps it was best not to be too free about mentioning her Sire's demise until she could feel out his apparent acquaintance better.
And so, as she was want to, Veronica lapsed into quiet observance, allowing herself to drift away from the conversation in order to observe and catalogue. The great thing about other people, honestly, was that they loved to talk, to needle and prod, gloat and reminisce, and carelessly present more than their fair share if only you were to pay attention and resist doing the same. And in doing so here and now, Veronica learned... quite a bit.
"Kaito" -if that truly was the obvious trickster's name- was an illusionist, older than he looked, and quite possibly not showing his true face in a very literal manner. The last thought was not so much implied by either conversationist, but more a paranoid possibility Veronica felt ought to be logged. He was born with "natural talent", which on its own wouldn't have been any clue as to his nature. After all, she too was born with a "gift". However, his claims that he had studied with no-one, that it had come naturally, and that it was a familial trait? That implied a genetic predisposition to the magic, which had some implications. Nothing she could say for sure, but more an intuition on the tip of her tongue. Also, apparently, he was a glib hand at bluffing... or so it appeared. For a moment, Veronica had almost been convinced that Kaito was already aware of her nature, but he claimed he thought the existence of her Sire a mere children's parable. "Claimed" being the operative word. Honestly, the more she heard him speak, the less she trusted a single word out of his mouth to be delivered without a double-meaning or alternative aim. She would have to be more careful with him going forward.
Solomon, meanwhile, was the now obvious source of the medicinal smell, undercut by something... other. Given the new context of his cordial association with her Sire, Veronica now had a few more possibilities to tack onto her list. He was apparently both a mundane medic and a possible magical healer. Although, the latter was less directly stated... and he was apparently inferior to the actual bear at said healing. Would wonders never cease? Aside from that, the man was a clear mystical scholar... a very ambitious one too. Wanting to bring back the dead? Veronica politely held her tongue on that matter. "One step at a time" was damn right.
Besides, Veronica didn't know a whole lot about matters involving death and the afterlife, but she did know that every tale that spoke of such things tended to emphasize the toll to be paid, often without even resulting in true success. Hell, she was a "living" example. Vampirism itself was an example. For all that one gained, they lost much of what made life worth living. They became a predator of their own kind, something innately, irrevocably other, no matter how much she'd like to pretend otherwise. She knew that her turning, at least for a moment, had killed her. She had seen... Well, maybe not seen so much as experienced something incomprehensible, something that had burned into her memory and yet remained utterly indecipherable regardless, searing a fear of death into her that she had taken... a decently long time to overcome. Regardless, vampirism was, in a sense, at least one true method of resurrection...
But Veronica was quite sure it would not suffice for Solomon's purposes. Given his association with her Sire, she had good reason to suspect that he thankfully didn't consider such methods viable on a large or practical scale. Ironically(?), that just made him seem... almost even more arrogant or naive than she'd initially thought upon hearing his ambition. He didn't just want to resurrect people. He wanted to be able to do it without paying a price. Foolishness. But far be it from her to stop him from figuring that out on his own.
A measure of Veronica's attention to her internal musings was drawn away by the intrusion of the inn's owner, who was... Gosh damn it. Yet another outsider now in on the mission... and again at the fault of the damn elf. As the "baker" and Jazdia drifted away to a different room, Veronica turned her near inhumanly keen hearing far more towards them than the conversation of her tablemates.
The back and forth between the owner and Jaina confirmed the vampire's suspicions, much to the quiet clenching of her jaw. So, the elf -and most likely those injured among the team- had been responsible for the bombings in the Capital. She resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands upon hearing more. The Black Serpent Guild had been riled and its leadership annihilated by Jaina and her band or hooligans, and worse, the mysterious additional stray they'd brought back was a formerly enslaved mage with a potential bone to pick. Not that Veronica had any issue with rescuing slaves on principle, but still...
Her eyes narrowed ever so minutely at the talk of some form of magical devices, at least one of which appeared to be anti-mage, lips pursing in consideration of the knowledge that Jazdia had once been part of some now defunct organization... which again sounded like it should have rung a bell. The vampire's expression remained neutral, but her mien turned cold at the mention of innocent casualties... ones that might have been the direct result of one of the team's actions. Jazdia refused to name names, but there weren't a whole lot of options to choose from anyway. That left Kaito, the Samurai, the infamous rogue Rosenving, the AWOL Henri... or even Jazdia herself, either by accident or necessity.
The conversation soon wrapped up after that. And though nothing further incriminating seemed to have been said, the damage was done. Crimson eyes carefully followed the elf's retreat up to the second floor, soon pursued by Captain Matilda. Almond-shaped pupils narrowed to furious slits. So, now she was to tolerate willful murderers of the innocent and those that would cover for them as her comrades?
Closing her eyes, the vampire leaned back in her chair and reached for her magic, casting out her Sight, as the world opened up to her in a watery haze that began to clear with her sharpening focus. As usual, there was a manner of out of body sensation that accompanied being able to look down at her own self, before she turned her sensor away and sent it up the stairs after Matilda and Jazdia, sounds also beginning to bloom into her perception to go with the sight. Warbly and almost like they were coming from underwater, but clearer the longer she focused. Listening in to the orc and elf, Veronica quirked her ears in curiosity, before her brow furrowed in frustration.
Honestly, Matilda was far too trusting for her own good sometimes. But that was fine. Veronica had enough caution -some would say paranoia- for both of them. As the conversation reached its conclusion, the pale girl quickly released her sensor and excused herself from her table wordlessly, setting about finding herself a good seat by the fire to perform equipment maintenance. It wasn't like there was a whole lot else for her to do for the next twelve or so hours.
Night fell, and all too soon after (if not soon enough for Veronica's liking) so also came departure into the night. There was a chill in the night air, but for the pale girl, it was an almost comfortable clinical feeling. The atmosphere and environment, somewhat to her chagrin, were exactly suited to her nature, and she couldn't help feeling comfortably at home under the stars. There was the offer of a horse, but she declined it. She was faster on foot anyway at the pace they were going. As if she couldn't outrun a cart. Bah. Besides, the animal in question didn't seem all that enthused with the proposition of her mounting it to begin with. It was hardly too much of a surprise. Beasts could have the strangest intuition sometimes.
So it was that that she found herself riding in the front seat of the cart, casting her night vision about at the lands illuminated by the moon in varying flavors of shadow. She'd have preferred to park herself in the back of the cart, but it turned out to be very much filled with bear. Reinhold lead the way slowly but steadily towards what was apparently turning out to be Fanghorn, and Veronica had to fight the urge to be up front with the comparatively vulnerable guide. Her instincts as an assassin steered her otherwise, however; tarrying in the potential line of initial fire was not where she would be most valued. Her time and energy was best spent elsewhere. Between her vision and magic, she kept a whether eye out for trouble in the immediate vicinity for the next few hours.
Four hours in, around 3 AM was when things got a little more... interesting. Initially, Veronica hadn't had any intention of making any more deep scries until the place of the Prince's imprisonment was well in sight. However, Matilda insisted, and so she complied. Only... the results were not as she had been expecting. The fact that she had broken through at all came as a surprise. Even more shockingly -or rather inconveniently, her vison seemed to have been... redirected to Pesti, the village further away?
Well, redirection was certainly one possibility.
As the group slowed their pace and began dismounting to consult the map once more, Veronica's lips pursed tightly in consideration, unrolling the map under the light of Jazdia's enchanted arrows. Questions were rolling in, and she did her best to answer.
"How much is the enemy on each site?" she began, eyeing Veronic. "In Pesti especially."
"I honestly couldn't say," the vampire responded with a frown. "I only maintained my scry long enough to backtrack out of the prince's residence. There were guards in the threatening plurality. That's not in question. But I was more concerned with getting the most out of the apparent crack in the defense I entered. No telling if I'll be able to do it again." She jabbed a finger down at the mountainous region of the map. "My greater concern was guiding my probe through the building and finding a window as fast as possible to get a look at the mountains and determine the locale's orientation, just to be certain that I wasn't being redirected." She shook her head. "Which is to say, I can be fairly confident that, regardless of where he might have been before, the Prince is now in Pesti. Fanghorn is probably a trap at best."
"Veronica, what are the chances of our enemies noticing the scrying?" Matilda wasn't well-versed in matter of magic, but she had better general knowledge than most. Skilled far-seers were great boon, but nowhere near impossible to predict and counteract. "And as the elf said, try check the amount of potential hostile on both sites. Surprise may no longer be on the table now, if we are to divide our force we need to split it accordingly."
Veronica's head swiveled to the Guard Captain, and she shrugged. "Given that the King is unlikely to have ceased his own attempts to scry the Prince, the surely constant barrage must be muddying the waters if the barrier is, in fact, capable of back-tracing scrying. Oh, I've little doubt they know people are attempting to scry them, but I don't really see any reason why the enemy would notice anything specific is off on that end. They would be expecting to be scried, after all, so it -perhaps ironically- wouldn't stand out for us to be doing so." Cupping her chin with one hand, she snorted. "I doubt such a firm ward would also contain a capacity to trace scrying back. If it could, it would be much less defensively powerful."
Her brows furrowed at the suggestion to split the group's forces. Kaito's own interjection regarding the suspect integrity of the present situation also got her nod. "If I may," the vampire posited, "it seems like the last time this group split in two, one half was nearly wiped out by a trap from our foes, and they'll be likely even more prepared this time. I don't think we should split our forces unless absolutely necessary." Nodding to Matilda, she continued. "With distances like these allowing us to quickly reach either village within about an hour or two from the other, it would behoove us to commit to wiping out each potential enemy one at a time with our full strength and then quickly engaging the other thereafter."
Sitting down, Veronica laid the map across her lap, adopting a bit of a thinking pose. "Way I see it, there's a few scenarios: the prince is in Pesti after being moved by his captors who were warned of us coming. The prince is still in Fanghorn, but my scrying is being redirected to Pesti. The prince is actually in Pesti, and the enemy doesn't know that we know. In the first case, Pesti is a trap, but one baited with what we want. In the second, Pesti is still a trap and also a red herring. In the last, Both places are a trap, but Fanghorn is likely the more dangerous one. Point is..."
Veronica shook her head, trying to pull herself free of the deluge of internal concerns and contemplations that threatened to overwhelm her. "My intuition is that we should act according to how Kaito here suggested the enemy may be planning and so counter them, fully committing to whichever front we pick, crushing it and then moving on to the other. If we find the prince in one place? Lucky us. If we don't?" the pale girl shrugged. "Just means that we now won't have the other locale's inhabitants potentially hunting us down while we're vulnerable escorting the prince back home." Working her jaw, Veronica considered the matter further. "I don't have numbers on troops quite yet for either location, but I can see about changing that."
Jazdia squinted, not because of the darkness nor illumination from her enchanted arrow, but from the daring implication the pale girl had just made. Wiped out? Hardly. It indeed went less smoothly no thanks to nobody in that royal palace was smart enough to foresee one of the king's attachés had turned against him. Not to mention one in her team was an impulsive idiot and the other one was thinking too much. Nevertheless, the elf knew better not to argue. Veronica was here to offer alternative intel, and it was best to treat her as an informant.
"It seemed nothing beats boots on the ground and scouting ahead manually. But thanks for answering," she said, now turning to the orc paladin, Jazdia continued. "Pesti is less fortified, surrounded by a forest and flanked by mountains and a river. If we strike it now, it will be too easy, too easy it looks very suspicious."
Jazdia brought her glowing arrow closer to the map. "As Lady Veronica said, It might be bait for us. But let us assume we attack Pesti simply because it was less of a threat the prince is more likely to be there. My question is, what if he is apparently not there?"
"Fair points, all of you. It is true that crushing potential resistance one at a time is the best way to remove all threats. But our main objective is to rescue the prince. If he is moved or harmed in case we strike at the wrong location, that's a failure in the entire operation. Solomon, how far can your summoned scouts operate away from you? I will need them to keep an eye on Fanghorn. I may need you two to do the same, Cedar and Reinhold. Make sure nothing leave the village undetected." That said, getting the prince out if the captors would rather execute him rather than risk his return would be... difficult, to say the least. If that was the intention then a full-frontal assault would be out of the picture, but then how else were they going to go through fortifications? Perhaps Veronica and maybe Kaito can see about infiltration before they fully commit. She'd not trust the vampire as a person, but she did trust her skillset and motivation. In a way, that's more reliable than an unconditional trust.
"If the prince is not at Pesti, we'll find and break whatever magic interference that bounced the scrying there. It'll announce our arrival, but the prospect of any stealth seems to be more and more distant the closer we get."
Cedar looked at the tired man named Reinhold, and gave him an amused cant of the head and a friendly huff.
"I don' bite ya know." he chuckled, then waddled up beside him. "Naow, waddya gots goin? They wants us ta spots an eye, er a nose, er what we gots-- onna village, ya? I Clearly miss' out on a bunch when I went fer dinner huh?"
Reinhold just looked at him warily, as if unsure how to even react to being addressed by what was very clearly just a very large, talking bear, despite knowing full well that he is capable of wearing clothes, and bore witness to the spectacle that was the initial meetup at the inn earlier that day. The incongruity of something walking on two feet, and wearing clothes, to something on four feet, and not, had his mind going in strange places.
"Are you some kind of were creature or something?" was about all he could manage to get out.
Cedar just laughed at him. "Naw-- I's jus' me! Pap's a man, and Mam's a bear-- an' theys had me!" He did his best to make a pleasant grin without showing any scary teeth.
"How does that ... Work ... exactly?" The man had a look on his face somewhere between stark disbelief, bewilderment, and terror.
"Wha? How old'r you anyways mister? Your paps ne'er give you The Talk or summat?"
"I'm surprised your mother didn't maul your dad." Reinhold shook his head in disbelief, mind wandering at the implication of this. How did it work anyway? He's pretty sure every village had their own sheep-fucker or an equivalent, but he'd never heard of an actual half-sheep born out of it. Was it only for bears? Why was it only for bears?
He decided that he wouldn't want to know the answer to that.
"I cant promise a perfect watch, if they know what they're doing it'll be easier moving through the dark than spotting them trying that. But my eyes are better than most."
Cedar looked up and behind Reinhold and chuckled, before looking back at him with eyes that glinted green in the dark.
"Mama? Maul papa? Nawwwww... Only fer cuddles!" he said, and chuckled harder. "Muh mamma an' pappa loves one another. Spends all day tugether. Only time em two's aparts in da win'er. Paps caint snuggle up and sleep it offn' likes 'e wish'e could. Tol' me 'isself. Papa gots mama all spoil' rotten ya asks me, but 'ey gets along fine."
He looked up and behind Reinhold again. "Bet 'hey aint as good as mine-- How many squirr'ls up innat tree back 'ere?" he asked cheekily. "Is'll tell ya-- 'eys 5 o' em. One all pokin' 'is lil' beady eyes at us right naow, tryin' ta figger us aout-- odders is all tuck in behain', pokin' out da sides. Up 'ere, in at lil' hole. 'Ere, wachis--"
he plodded past Reinhold, and reached up the tree, and gave the bark a good old fashioned clawing, like his mom had shown him. Breaks off the little bits of long claw, and keeps the dirt out from underneath them. He didn't really need to do it since his claws were cut real short in order to use those gloves, and were already quite clean, but the activity set the squirrels into panic, and they started barking angrily at him, twitching tails and darting heads from their nesting hole in a frenetic display.
"Squirrels?" The hunter's gaze shifted to the tree in question, narrowing to carefully look inbetween beams of moonlight through the leaves. Squirrels... he saw them. Sort of. "I can see the frontmost one. And I know there's more beyond. But that's it."
He could probably shoot one, if it came to that, but it wouldn't be an accurate shot. So bears had night vision? He didn't know that. Just another thing to keep in mind when camping out in the wild, he suppose. Even though bears normally slept at night.
"Naw-- Ain't good as daytime, but dis time a year, folks likes muh mam's out eatin' almos' e'ery night at some point. Ain't 'nuff hours in da day ta gets fed right odderwise. Mos'ly hunt'n berries, buts ya gots ta see ta fin'em. Sure, yas can smell em afore 'en, but somes ya wants ta stay 'way from the thorns an' stuffs-- like roses. Roses on dis time year. Poke yer nose what good ya ain't careful. Bit sour 'ough. Nigh'time sleepin' fer da summer and stuffs. Dis time a year, ain't nuttin but hungry, all da damn time. Damn nuisance ya ask me! --Hell, et' a whole damn kettle o' soup-- 'nuff ta feed 10 people like yaself--, an' I's STILL hungry! Win'er commin' soon."
He shook his head and flopped it like a dog shaking its ears.
"'nyhoo-- I's all grays and stuffs. No color, but I sees da shapes fine, an' movement real good. Naow again fellar, stop holdin' out on me-- what ya lookin' at?"
"That was... insightful." Matched sufficiently with what Reinhold knew about bears, which honestly wasn't much. Hunters mostly stayed away from those, for good reasons. Maybe he could raise thorny bushes around his hut if he needed to deter bears in the future. If he survived this entire thing anyway. The man didn't expect to return alive at all.
"What I'm looking at?" Confusion was clear. "Squirrels? Hard to tell now that it's moving around. Just dark shape and some beady reflection for eyes."
Cedar rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the answer. It was not at all what he had asked, at least to his estimation.
"Noo nooo-- Not up 'ere--.. Daown 'ere! Wutcha trackin' fellar! What ya lookin' at! Footprints? Broked sticks an' branches, cmon. Use yer head. Shows me wat yer lookin' at, so's Is can lends a hand. Dayum. Ya thinkin' 'eys wents Eas', or Wes'? I smells people stuffs e'er way."
"I gots 'lot ridin' on gettin' at lil' fellar back ta his pa. Soon'r I does, Soon'r I kin git home."
"Ah. No, I'm not actively tracking. It's retracing my steps, and it's heading west. The bridge a while back, that was one landmark. There should be a lone big old tree on a small hill at the left side of the road soon enough, and from there the fort and the village should be visible." That should be... half an hour away at their current pace. "They circled around the village proper and went into the fort back then. Spent an entire day watching, never came out."
"Ahh. I gotcha. 'At kin'a da reason I tooks muh clothes off. I looks like any odder bear 'issa way. Ain't nobody suspect no 'dumb ol' bear'-- (ne'er min' ain't no such thang. Bears jus' think 'bout diff'nt stuffs.) I's kin nose muh way 'roun ou'side, an' git real close like jus' fine, long as I don' try ta act'lly go in. 'Ats when 'eys tries to put pins in me. Odder-way 'round, I goes about in muh clothes. Peoples dunno what ta do seein' me all dressed up an such when I's in town- Knows I ain't no ord'n'ry bear, and-- mos' time-- let it slide. Specially when I talks at em. Walk right in. I tries at o'er dere, I prolly gets da pins in muh hide. --Don' like gettin' shot at, den again, I s'pose nobody really do."
He plopped his but down on the ground to sit down, still propped up on his arms.
"they's still tryin ta figger out which place they goin tuh." he continued. "Thinks he dun been moved. 50-50 he been, pr'olly. I figgers, No matter which theys takes, like "dis", I kin nosey up real close like, an poke aroun. Git a good looks at stuff. Stay 'ere all day if'n I wants, 'slong as I don' go in. City peoples freaks out when I does 'at. Think I gunna eat em, er run off wit' a cow or summat. Bear as does at doin' it cause they so hungry they ain't thinkin' straight. 'Em fellars yas roomin' wit-- 'Ey lookin like at too. Bears no diff'rnt. 'Ey knows what peoples does-- 'ey jus' don' talks bout it da way people does. A'cause a dat, peoples thinks theys dumb. --- Work in muh favor, ya know what I mean."
He sat back up again with a bit of a stretch and a lurch.
"I's was thinkin-- Which e'er em folks back 'ere asides ta do-- You an' me's kin do the walksie, and has the looksie. Ya kin sneaks aroun', and watch fer the fellars as might shoot me full a pins-- and I's kin nose about up close like. We can work tugether, ya'hear? Ya get hungry la'er, le' me knows. I'll whoop us up sommin. How 'at soun'?"
"If the prince is not at Pesti, we'll find and break whatever magic interference that bounced the scrying there. It'll announce our arrival, but the prospect of any stealth seems to be more and more distant the closer we get."
"If the prince is not at Pesti, we will go to Fanghorn, true. But I am afraid he would not be there when we get there."
"Matilda. Infiltration doesn't have to be done with deception or furtive actions. Whoever is in charge in Pesti doesn't have any reason to welcome you with hostility, lest they incur the wrath of the King himself. You are still Fred's right-hand woman. Go to Pesti and visit the village as King's aide, Take Veronica with you and scan the entire place."
A brass commpass now pinning the map on one of its edges, courtesy of Jazdia herself. "This is a portable communication device. Press the golden button and it will dial its counterpart, the silver button is to record voices. When your team finds something, you should inform me quickly. I will do the same on my end."
Jazdia activated her eyes to see if everyone was close enough to hear her properly. If someone interpreted two glowing orbs in the darkness as a form of intimidation, so be it.
"Remember that Pesti is an ordinary village. We don't have to initiate a fight if it can be helped. Get in, look around and leave. If your prince is indeed there, I will regroup with you as soon as possible. Remember that they have nowhere to run, even if they somehow got a wind of your scrying, they can't relocate him anywhere far enough we can't trail it. If you don't have any problem with my plan. Go ahead and pick that device."
