The Homecoming 43.

Trails, Tracks & Roads...

Mira Reinholt the mage makes his way along a forest trail, that goes down into a valley. The once powerful mage glances up at the sky that was threatening to rain earlier in the morning, just after dawn.
It's now clearing, with clouds moving by, on what's now a windy, and cool late winter's day here in the northwest of the kingdom of Druvic.
The Vexilian mage in exile gets down onto the floor of the valley and rubs his chin as he looks down at the ground. He nods his hooded head when he spots the boot marks in the trail he's following. It's obvious they've been made by steel boots.
Well I'm going the right way at least, Mira Reinholt the mage thinks to himself, who then murmurs "Thank the shape of fire" as he continues on his way along the trail, that's clearly a game trail, as it isn't particularly straight as it goes across the valley through the forest, then goes up the otherside.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster doesn't run into any trouble as he goes through the valley.
Unlike late yesterday afternoon, when he was attacked by large carnivorous rodents, the size of a large dog. He had to spend a bit of magical power to get them to flee, when he set one of the three foot tall giant forest rats on fire.
The once powerful mage shakes his hooded head at the memory of that, then mutters "Giant bloody rats" followed by "Trust me to end up in a forest with those things".
The swordmaster Reinholt makes his way up the otherside of the valley, and sees that the trail joins a track. The exiled Vexilian mage looks downhill and spots another road in the distance through the trees, he nods his hooded head when he sees it, where he more or less expected it to be.
Mira Reinholt starts walking down the track towards the road. It's mid morning when he finally gets to the road, which is churned up in places by hoof prints, and wheel tracks.
The highly skilled swordmaster heads east along the road, keeping to the side of it, where the ground is more firm, and not too muddy.
The mage Reinholt doesn't see too much in the way of wildlife as he walks next to the road, just birds flitting through the nearby treetops as the day warms up despite the windy conditions.
He continues along the forest road for a little while, when it starts going up a rise, he spots a large, heavily armoured figure standing at the top of the rise waiting for him.
The once powerful mage joins lord Farque at the top of the rise, and says "Another town i see" as he looks further east, Mira Reinholt then adds "A bit bigger too".
The town in question is about a quarter of a mile away. Another mill town, like the previous two they've stopped at. Though this one is much bigger as it's near a couple of converging streams. One you could almost describe as a river.
The forest is bit further away from this town too. With fields to one side of it, and though there's hedges that's along sides of the fields, the fields have obviously been planted for winter crops. And is being tilled for upcoming planting in the early spring.
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head towards some open ground between the fields and the town. The mage Reinholt frowns as he sees a couple of low wooden platforms built just a few feet off the ground there. As well as massive tree stumps near them, with heavy ropes coiled upon the massive trunks.
The once powerful mage blinks in surprise, then nods in understanding when lord Farque quietly says to him "For airships".
"Maybe one will come in soon, and we can catch a lift to the capital" muses the swordmaster Reinholt "Let's hope" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who then nods his full helmed head towards the milling town about a quarter of a mile away, and adds "Come along then".
They're in the fief of the Almaeré family, the northern most, not to mention, the western most fief in the kingdom of Druvic. It's also one of the largest fiefs in the kingdom. Though also one of the least influential ones. As it so far from the capital Leeabra, and the only thing produced out here of any value, is wood for building.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque and the spellcaster and swordmaster from Vexil head to town, passing an empty heavy wagon, drawn by a team of four large horses, heading back west, after bringing in a load of felled trees to town for milling.
The wagon driver, and the other man sitting on the wagon seat. Can't help but stare at the two walking to the side of the road, heading towards town. It's not everyday you see armoured men, one especially so in full heavy plate armour. In these parts. Especially strangers, who aren't soldiers in the army of the fief.
Speaking in elven as they near the town, Mira Reinholt quietly says "Think this is the town north of Poldaér" he continues with "If we can't catch an airship here, we'll definitely have better luck down there".
The lord of the death realm nods in agreement, for Poldaér is a large town, almost a city actually. That's the largest settlement in the far west of the kingdom. It's also where castle Almaeré is located. Where the nobleborn family who has ruled this fief for many generations, make their home.
"See if you can find anything out" says lord Farque as they enter town, going pass one of the mills. Where a wheel, driven by water from one of the streams, cuts logs into planks. Mostly used for building, but occasionally good quality wood from the area is used in furniture making.
The two of them go their separate ways after the deathlord of Farque quietly tells the swordmaster from Vexil "Meet in that square over there at midday". "Will do" says Mira Reinholt, who continues along the road that goes through the middle of town, while the undead warlord turns into a lane, on either side of which, is a mix of shops and homes.
Nearing midday, the mage Reinholt, after speaking to the owner of a trading post, that deals mostly with trappers, hunters and foresters. Heads to the square where he's to meet up again with the heavily armoured deathlord.
The once powerful mage spots a small tavern on one corner of the square, the establishment is fairly quiet even though it's close to serving the midday meal. The swordmaster Reinholt finds out why, when he orders something and is told the price. Which is far too much for this part of the kingdom. But would fit right in with some of the better quality establishments in the capital Leeabra.
Hell, no wonder you're not that busy, the exiled Vexilian mage thinks to himself as he looks towards the owner of the small tavern who is at the bar, the mage Reinholt silently adds, if you charge that much for ale, it's a wonder you're still in business.
The highly skilled swordmaster is at the small front table, at the window, which he's opened one side of the shutters of, so he can look out onto the square.
No other customer has complained about the wind blowing in through the open window. It helps that there's only two of them, and they're seated together at the table, behind the far end of the bar. Well away from the front of the tavern where Mira Reinholt is sitting.
It's not too long before lord Farque shows up and enters the small tavern, he sits down at the small table the Vexilian mage in exile is sitting at. Though he sits against the wall to the side of the tavern, that runs opposite the bar.
While the highly skilled swordmaster faintly winces, and the undead warlord slightly pauses when the serving woman tells the heavily armoured figure the price of the fortified spirits. Which the lord and ruler of the lands orders a bottle of, handing over a couple of golds, then muttering in elven to the mage Reinholt "Hell, that fucking brandy better be worth it".
The spellcaster, who at seventeen was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil quietly says in elven to the heavily armoured deathlord "It's not likely we'll see an airship anytime soon". "I know" says the undead being who is also know as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
The two of them have both found out that airships only turn up sporadically at this time of the year, to pick up wood to take to other parts of the kingdom, and beyond.
They're more regular in the late spring, through the summer and into autumn. Giving time for the cut wood to season and dry out.
They're more likely to catch an airship in the large town of Poldaér to the south. Where actual passenger ships fly to and from. As well as the usual wood carrying cargo ships that ply their trade in this region of Druvic.
The mage looks out the open window, sipping his ale as lord Farque lifts the visor of his full helm, and drinks from a small tumbler of brandy that he pours from a bottle.
"Fine, but no way is it worth two fucking golds" says the lord of the death realm, who pours another small tumblers worth of the fortified spirits, while the once powerful mage continues to look out of the window, sipping his ale, making sure not to look at the undead warlord.
The two of them chat for a while, and as the swordmaster Reinholt's meal is delivered, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque shuts the visor of his full helm, after finishing drinking the second tumblers worth of brandy.
Mira Reinholt as he eats some rather nice ham, far too expensive like everything else in the small tavern, quietly asks in elven "Should we get some horses and ride down to Poldaér?" he continues with "There's a trading post nearby, and the owner has mounts for sale in his stables".
"Maybe" says lord Farque, who isn't that keen to ride a mount, that isn't trained to carry a heavily armoured rider. As he knows a trading post in a town in the middle of a forest, in the most remote region in Druvic, is highly unlikely to have a warhorse for sale.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, is just about to say something else about traveling south to Poldaér, when instead he quietly says "What's this then?".
As he sees riders make their way into the square outside. There's a dozen of them, soldiers all. Either in service to the local noble, or they're in the fief army from down in Poldaér.
Lord Farque opens the other window shutter, and he sees the riders out in the square too, who have dismounted. There's another rider with them, a noble by his attire. And the deathlord of Farque who can easily hear the conversations of the riders on the otherside of the square, says to the mage Reinholt "The constable from Poldaér".
The once powerful mage nods his hooded head, then the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who wears an amulet so he can't be sensed by other practitioners of magic, casts a spell so he can listen in on the conversation between the constable of the fief, and the squad of soldiers he's brought with him from Poldaér and castle Almaeré.
They're looking for someone, and Mira Reinholt slightly frowns as hears the name of the person they're searching for "Tarong" murmurs the highly skilled swordmaster, who then asks "What type of name is that?". It sounds a little too orkish in his opinion.
"Troll" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "There's one working in one of the mills on the far side of town, near the larger stream over there".
The mage Reinholt nods his hooded head, then murmurs "Wonder why they want him?". A few moments later, he gets his answer, as the squad from Poldaér move out, in search for who they're after.
Seems there's been some murders during this winter further south, between here and Poldaér, which is two days travel to the south. The prime suspect is the troll Tarong. Though no actual sighting of him being anywhere near one of the murder sites has been witnessed.
That's what the Mira Reinholt and lord Farque overhear from some of the soldiers who have come from castle Almaeré.
"You'd think a great big bloody troll would of been seen at the site of a murder, it's not that fucking hard to miss one" says the Vexilian mage in exile, the undead warlord nods his full helmed head in agreement, then says "That's because he didn't do it".
Mira Reinholt glances at the heavily armoured deathlord, who tells him "They just want an easy target, and the troll is good enough i suppose" he continues with "Bet the local nobles have been bitching to whoever the lord is down in Poldaér, and they want action on the matter".
Lord Farque nods to the square outside, where the constable and a few of the soldiers are just leaving, and he continues with "So the constable has come up here to find the easiest target to pin these murders on, and bring him in for a public execution, to appease both nobles and commoners alike" Des'tier as he's known to an older generation of elven kind, then dryly adds "The laziest kind of fucking ruling you can get".
The Vexilian mage in exile nods his hooded head in agreement, then says "Should we do something about it?".
The undead warlord shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders, and says "Why?" followed by "It's got nothing to do with us" lord Farque then adds "We've got our own fucking problems, like getting back to the otherside of the kingdom to find the others, and to find that fucking engineer we've come here to find in the first place".
Mira Reinholt slowly nods to that, as he knows the heavily armoured deathlord is correct. Though he has a disquieting feeling that an innocent individual is going to be killed for something he hasn't done . . . . . .