Morning greeted with the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with wild honey and exotic herbal tea. The resourcefulness of the Viridian Dawn Rangers was a feat to be astonished.
“Root bread,” explained an already awake Caelor, “foraged and made dough.”
“The aroma is very refreshing,” I complimented while rubbing the sleep of my eyes.
“Needs to be eaten within the day. That is the only downside,” shrugged Caelor as he gave a candid smile.
Syrune stirred, prompted by the enticing aroma. A small wood-elf ranger with big hazel eyes willingly volunteered to help the still sleep-addled mage. His actions might have been called altruistic, had there not lurked a carnal twinkle at the corner of his eyes, the only indication of a cunning voluptuary.
Karlienne, keeping in alignment with the rustic life that she led, was already fresh and was accounting for the saddlebags. She was accompanied by two other wood-elves with unconcealed irritation. Karlienne herself had that shrewd calculative face that she often wore. She, undoubtedly, was using one of her astute tactics of negotiation to relieve them of their possession. Her knack for uncanny means to trade impressed me.
Colby followed a fletcher like a lap hound. The young gnome was wide-eyed and overflowed with curiosity as he watched the fletcher craft arrows.
“We dug a pit on the western side for our morning needs,” explained Caelor.
I thanked the wood-elf and promised to meet him over breakfast.
“What is your plan?” I enquired as I bit into the offered bread. It was fibrous and still melted in my mouth.
“We would accompany you till midday, then we must part ways,” explained Caelor, “Our journey must continue in the eastern direction.”
“Towards your enclave?” I asked.
“Enclave is probably not the ideal word to describe, but you are right. Raelion needs to be informed,” said Caelor.
“More like Elphene needs to be informed,” Karlienne’s words were filled with hidden humour, one which twisted Caelor’s lips into a knowing smirk.
“How many of them were there?” enquired Caelor.
“Cannot estimate for their exact number but around ten to fifteen hellhounds, another ten bloodtracker and an equal number of Erinyes led by an Erinyes Matriarch,” I answered.
Wrinkled appeared on Caelor’s wide forehead at the mention of Erinyes Matriarch. Worries contorted the jovial elf’s face.
“Were there any loss to lives?” asked the Fool-Who-Seeks.
“They returned to their plane swiftly. It was all lightning fast. A lot of lives were lost, but mostly Paladins from the Order of Latent Divinity. Most of the townfolks were spared,” explained Karlienne.
“High-elven Paladins in Asterlund?” questioned a surprised Caelor, “What happened?”
“Grand Paladin Champion and Lord Commander Mirnovian Zelaphiel Ellandor happened,” I answered with a grimace.
“What was a celebrate hero doing in an isolated place?” asked Fool-Who-Seeks.
I simply shrugged. Contrary to his agreeable demeanour, Fool-Who-Seeks had shown their mystic ability to spot a lie.
“If it comes as a surprise, Merowyn did not die,” laughed Karlienne.
“The poor lad is doomed to die by Arlene’s hand,” grimaced Caelor.
“More like die by the unerring arrow of Arlene,” Karlienne made a surprisingly perfect impression of Arlene.
“You people know of Arlene?” I asked with a baffled voice.
“Everyone knows Arlene,” quickly answered Karlienne, “But how do you know her?”
Caelor looked as if he was about to say something but yoked his thoughts at the last moment, allowing Karlienne to explain.
“She is my most trusted second-in-command,” I answered.
A roar of laughter erupted from all who gathered, including Fool-Who-Seeks.
“Imagine, Arlene fighting in a mercenary company,” laughed Caelor holding his aching stomach.
“Our self-proclaimed heroine of weak and downtrodden now fighting for coins,” said Karlienne between her laugh, “This is a tale to tell.”
My mood darkened slightly at their attitude towards Arlene.
Only Fool-Who-Seeks did not partake in their crude uncivilised humour.
“Are you the one monikered as the Shattered Shield?” finally Fool-Who-Seeks asked with undisguised curiosity.
At the Fool-Who-Seeks words, silence settled.
“Just a simple joke from some peasants,” I answered with feigned modesty.
“I knew, deep down that Arlene would find her glory,” praised Fool-Who-Seeks.
Eyes filled with awe turned towards me from all directions.
Even the Wood-elf with big wide hazel eyes, who served Syrune, stopped his attention on the Mage and turned in my direction for a brief moment.
“You tamed a Lounge of wild Salamanders,” said Fool-Who-Seeks with admiration.
No, it was just Armin and his brothers.
“You tracked down and contracted a great woodland guardian spirit,” continued Fool-Who-Seeks.
Again, it was just Vitalia and she stalked us. Not the other way.
“Even suppressed a hidden conclave of Werewolves and made them swore fealty to you,” the voice of Fool-Who-Seeks rang.
There was no conclave just Rodo and his friends looking for a place.
“You two, slaughtered an army of twenty thousand before they could reach Westerleygates,” said Fool-Who-Seeks much to the shock of Karlienne.
I guess with every iteration those figures rise.
As much as I loved hearing those exaggerated tales, I had to end the banter.
Our horses were already saddled and ready for departure.
The wood-elf with big wide hazel eyes walked beside Syrune accompanying the mage. As the scholar decided to mount, expectant hazel eyes met the deep emerald green eyes and their attention held for long. An unseen tension knotted with a perusal for salacious desire lingered in the air. Syrune finally broke the contact much to the disappointment of the admiring wood-elf.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence till it was time to part ways with the Viridian Dawn Rangers.
“I would urge you to still reconsider,” said Fool-Who-Seeks when the time came for parting.
“She is steadfast in her resolve. There is no use in talking her through,” dismissed Caelor as he gave Karlienne a long hug.
“Despite the weapon she carries and the feats she acheieved before, this is still a fool’s errand,” declared Fool-Who-Seeks.
I, unconsciously, cast a glance at The Sentinel on the hips. Considering their ability, it was not surprising that they noticed the weapon.
The Sentinel does stand out, a precious gem among baubles, just like its creator.
As if guided by an untold notion of loyalty towards Karlienne, Caelor willingly gave directions.
“If you continue further, you will near Havorik farmstead and then it is all wilderness till Low Crag pass,”
“Havorik Farmstead?” I raised my eyebrows in question, “I thought this whole region was uninhabited.”
“Except for Havorik Farmstead,” corrected Caelor, “They are a weird sort. Do not expect any hospitality there.” The wood-elf scoffed in contempt.
“An isolated family in a remote region and being uncongenial. That is not something new,” I sneered.
“They are not a family,” explained Caelor, “an isolated community with oddball strangers thrown in the mix. Do not like outsiders and do not mingle with others. It will serve you to keep your wits.”
I nodded in acknowledgement.
“Be wary of the dire wolves,” cautioned Fool-Who-Walks as a final parting gift.
The ranger with big wide hazel eyes, dismounted and approached the mounted Syrune.
“Farewell Master Mage, you have deep piercing green eyes, a sign of Verdant blessed,” he extended powerful arms and slowly took Syrune’s hands with gentle authority. His calloused fingers stroked the mage’s hands sensuously. Syrune stiffened at the sudden contact as it sent shivers through the mage’s spine. Disregarding ignominy, the wood-elf boldly let his hands drop and slowly caressed Syrune’s thigh, showering the mage with warm shivers.
Syrune extended slender fingers, attempting to lace with those rough caressing hands. Arrested midway by a hindering thought, Syrune pulled the extended hand after a bit of hesitation.
Wide eager hazel eyes questioned back with dejection.
“I am sorry,” A feeble excused escaped the mage’s lips, “I am still recovering.”
Rejected and dejected, the wood-elf kept his composure.
“If you ever choose to change your mind, please find me at our commune,”
