Though breaking the camp was done hastily, Vesemir's caravan rolled forth without delay or difficulties. For now, the journey took them straight to the east, following the road parallel to one of Silmetirta's swift branches. To their left was a river and to their right were meadows and farmlands, marked by houses and barns that already sprung to live with activities. The journey continued on, and before the idyllic scenery could bore them, it all soon would be replaced by wooded grounds, and at last, Alkautsar's grand silhouette finally disappeared behind them.
The Gray Flame had guided them confidently among the many crossing paths. Vesemir was sitting next to him and seemed all too eager to pilot the leading wagon. Most of the companions and the archeologist's henchmen were in the first and the second wagons. Two of their transports had their canvas roof removed and transferred to the third and the fourth wagons for extra covering on their consumable supplies. Forbann and Engelbert occasionally disembark to walk alongside the convoy, either to enjoy the scenery on their own paces or just to lighten the horses' workload.
Meanwhile the only person with a horse, Carnatia was tasked by the Gray Flame to be their outrider.
"Carnatia, dear girl, may we trouble you for this part of the journey to check on our rear wagon every once in a while?" He had said.
It had been two hours since they left Alkautsar. The roads were well-paved, wide, and smooth, but the convoy had no reason to be hasty under this wonderful weather. It was a pleasant day worth enjoying; the sunshine was clear but not too hot. The sparse woodland around them was still leafy and full of color and seemed peaceful and wholesome.
---
But nature was always unpredictable, even in the land where its inhabitants were deemed more attuned to it. The sky that was clear thirty minutes ago had turned gray. The wind was picking up, bringing in a cold and moist breeze. A sound of thunder sounded distant, but the warning was fair.
It was pouring already. Reluctantly, but still resolute to the heart, the convoy trudged forth. They still hadn't escaped from the woodland route, and according to the Gray Flame, the nearest village was some 10 kilometers away from their position.
From there the situation was not improving. Like an ill omen, the rain fell hard, thunder and lightning cracked on the pale sky above them, and the wind whistled eerily, swaying the tall trees like a dozen hands ready to swat those who were brave enough to push through. The thunderous boom from the sky made the horses frantic, and as they kept neighing and prancing at every crack of thunder, the choice was obvious.
"We are not getting anywhere in this storm," exclaimed the masked elf, trying to speak clearly amids the rain and raging winds. Vesemir nodded, not after giving it a deep thought.
"I know, but to where?"
Both elves seemed to think about the very same thing. But Vesemir was the first to spell it out.
"We have to go back. That house near the river."
That house in in question was hard to miss indeed. The party strode past it some fifteen minutes ago before the storm picked up. Wordlessly the Gray Flame nodded as the middle-aged elf steered their wagon to backtrack their trail.
The effort to get back there was equally laborious, but now at least there was some semblance of hope to shelter themselves from this infernal downpour.
Surrounded by rotting red brick walls no taller than an average man's waist, it was a house with a clear sign of neglect. Located near the Silmetirta, the most distinguished feature of that building beside the giant saman tree that grew next to it, was a seemingly working water wheel built at the end of an intact wooden pier.
As the group rode closer, turned out the house had a proper stable behind it, connected with the house's extended roof. Though it seemed to have seen a better day and quite small, at least there would be a place for their horses to keep themselves.
Stepping on its wide roofed terrace, The Gray Glame was the first to approach the house, with Vesemir following behind him. Up close, it was a two-story traditional-style house with unremarkable architectural uniqueness. Yet typical to an elven building, was built with durable materials and quite large, as though to express that it once belonged to a profitable person.
Vesemir repeatedly knocked on the door, called out, and peaked through its blurry windows, but no soul seemed to dwell in that neglected building. The hard rain was still pouring, and the air started to get colder. Nodding to get an assurance that the house was indeed abandoned, the middle-aged elf finally reached for its knob and opened the door, which was unlocked, apparently.
The living room was spacious but sad, gloomy and arid. There was a fireplace at the end of the room, flanked by the stairs that lead to the second floor and a door that leads to an unknown corridor. Inside the living room was an assortment of common furniture; tables and cabinets on the corners, a large porcelain vase on a wooden base, and a couch, made of polished wood with paddings seemingly intact. Above the fireplace was an elven sword displayed on a plaque. It seemed to be one of a pair, but the other sword was found lying on top of a table in front of the couch. The sword, identical to that displayed on a plaque had a flawless blade, but its handle was stained with dried blood.
It didn't take long for Vesemir to get comfy. Nobody knows how long the house has been abandoned, but its ember-colored tiled floor was not as dusty as everyone thought it was, and the middle-aged elf quickly removed his muddy shoes and threw them outside like they were nothing.
"Stepen, get the lanterns," he said, stepping aside to let the others get in. After letting his clothes be drained as much as he could, Vesemir entered and immediately regarded Gray Flame, who since their arrival in this house had never uttered a single word.
"Well, this is a pretty nice house. A shame it was abandoned. Well, since we are here and the rain doesn't seem to be abating any time soon, we are going to spend a night here."
Pausing, Vesemir glanced at the room's high, washed-out ceiling before continuing. "I hope whoever owned this house wouldn't mind us intruding."
