Forearmed is Forwarned

Llyranost, late afternoon.

Schara was able to arrange for and hire a mage to teleport the group to a city on the edge of the myrrish kingdoms without too much issue, the wards from the city requiring them to assemble at a small waystation outside of the Alexandrian city borders. Once there, it was a short process to hire a carriage to take them the rest of the way.

Schara was fairly quiet for the rest of the journey through the myrrish countryside, which slowly grew more and more wild the further they traveled down the well worn path. The artificer had holed up in the covered back of the carriage, and from how little they were moving, it wouldn't be amiss to assume they were a golem like their bronze armor made them look so closely to. She had at least provided a detailed map to the driver before shutting down completely, save for a few glances back to the front where the horses continued to pull them along.

Warrick idly strokes his somewhat grown out reddish gold beard as the carriage bounces along the road. His armor clinks softly from the motion, held down by a bright red crimson sash with gold garlands embroidered on it. He was helping in his own way, him silent, save for the crinkling of pages turning from a book in his lap. A heavy looking tome on Llyranost law.

He throws an occasional look to the artificer, making sure they were at least still breathing. He hoped he wouldn't need any of the weapons he'd brought with him, but...

The ex-guard shakes his head. Let vengeance lie in Serriel's punishment.

The ruddy sith-makar had appeared not only with one, but two glaives to their trip. It seemed to be something Aelwyn did nowadays. Especially when it came down to matters of the family. Rest of him was huddled under wolfskin cloak; though it had become more and more of an afterthought in the warming weather.

Now, the Dragoon's orange eyes were attempting to read the impossibly tiny text on the tome of Llyranost law - and even once, he reached out to pause Warrick from turning the page. He really, really, wanted to read at least the a word on that tome.

Yet, his orange eyes would slip towards Schara as well, obviously resisting the urge to lean against and try to drag the artificer out of her thoughts.

Schara, the unmoving golem for much of the trip out to Llyranost, looked back towards the road behind the carriage. Their metal hand tapped once, then again a few moments later. "Given the average pace of the wagon and the distance from town, I would estimate that we are around and hour and ten minutes away given no abnormal interruptions." She finally speaks up, voice lowered by the artifice laden helmet they were wearing. "It is not a mistake to go home first, is it? The more I think about everything, if it is possible for receiving a family member's limb at their doorstep to feel even more wrong, I believe it is possible and things do not feel right but I could not forgive myself for not checking up on them."

GAME: Warrick rolls profession/bookkeeper: (15)+8: 23

Warrick glances up to the hand reaching out, the page turning halting midway. "Affidavit," he answers the silent question. "It says affidavit. Written statement under oath, usually with magical reassurance that no lies were said under oath." Page flip.

He looks back to the golem, his lips quirking downwards briefly before subtly shaking his head. "No. It's not a mistake. But it's also the predictable move. So we best be on guard when we arrive."

If she's been thinking about it this entire time, she's probably going crazy inside her head, knowing how the artificer works. "How do apples become cider, Schara?" he asks out the blue. Distracting.

Aelwyn makes a face as he is 'caught'. "This one knew that." The draconian replied - he had absolutely no idea what an affidavit was. "Affa did it." He leans back slightly though, head buzzing with all kinds of half-understood terms. Then Schara speaks.

"Of course it is not." The Dragoon replies, holding up a hand. "Even if one knows, certain steps need to be played out." He gives a long look with his orange eyes. "And it is family."

Then he glances towards Warrick, nothing but confusion in his eyes. "Are they not just apples in a barrel?"

The closer the group got to Llyranost, the more the trees loomed in the fistance. Almost impossibly large, a swath of green over the landscape that loomed over even the greatest towers of Alexandria and elsewhere.

"I see, I'm not wrong in thinking it may be a trap if that's the case." The artificer nods once. "But you are both right, it's important beyond everything else save for your own safety that I make sure they're alright."

The elf pauses, and the helmet tilts to one side. "It is a strange time to ask such a question, but also not I guess." They state bluntly, pausing again to shake their head in Aelwyn's direction. "No, it is not just apples in a barrel. There are many considerations to be made, but it is made from ground apples that are put in a metal press, where the juice is extracted through a fine cloth filter. It's relatively simple, unless you are fermenting it, which allows it to last longer and also gives it an alcohol content from the yeast, but it also changes the flavor a lot. My family does have several stills, but it's more of a hobby of my dad than anything, really."

"Affa had nothing to do with it," Warrick deadpans, turning another page. Though the ghost of a smile that crested his lips belies the enjoyment of such an absurd joke. He looks out the window, his brows raising in surprise at how towering the trees were. He'd spent quite some time in the wilderness to the north of Alexandria, but this was something else. "Worry not, Schara, we're with you," he attempts to assuage.

He squints at the trees before turning back his book to an earlier passage. Which section was it again? Preservation act of... that's a year? Warrick's ancestors weren't even born yet. He rereads it carefully. "I see. That is a process, not as much as typical alcohol. Is it just apples your family produces mainly, then?" he asks, continuing the distraction.

"Affa who?" Aelwyn counters Warrick, before narrowing his eyes at the even tinier text. Was the writer getting smaller, or more sadistic? Sliding his hand across his mane of quills, he pulls over his glaive and idly adjusts the ribbons along it. They were already starting to get worn again, but he didn't bother to try and tidy them up.

"But why would one not ferment it?" The draconian asks, flashing his teeth. "All that flavour, to go waste in bitter sweetness?"

"Affa? Oh, right, sorry, I wasn't paying attention to that part, sorry." The elf wonders, taking a moment to think after one of the horse snorted loudly, causing the artificer to freeze up on the spot. "Why not? There are many reasons for that, because a large portion of the flavor profile changes when fermented. If you want to bake anything, it is usually best to use fresh apple juice for it."

"As for other fruits, of course, Warrick, our farm is mostly an apple orchard, but it's been that way for many generations, so there have been various things grown there over the years. We have other pomes like quince and pears, and my great grandfather planted several dozen stone fruit trees that he was experimenting with, along with my grandfather. And there are plants which we keep in gardens for ourselves too, for our own use."

Page turn. "My daughter does that to me. I'm not walking into that one, Aelwyn" Warrick chuffs, shaking his head. The pause didn't go unnoticed, him leaning closer to the window to peer out before setting his book aside and replacing it with an his large and unloaded crossbow. "Mmmhm. And sometimes I'd prefer apple juice to getting a buzz in the morning."

He raises a brow at Schara. "That's a lot of different kinds just in one climate. Impressive." He makes a mental note to check those trees when they arrive. Evidence gathering to build a case. Pretty certain Llysandrost wouldn't like a human showing up, but a human with a case may be a different matter. "Which ones will we see when we get to the orchard?"

"Tch, depends on the rare morning." Aelwyn flashes his teeth, before leaning back. He stretches out his arms forward, for a moment as he listens in on the tree discussion. Or interrogation. "Why the interest in the trees, Crossbow?" He asks from the human, with a tilt of his head.

Though his eyes then turn towards Schara, twisting his lips for a moment. He grinds his teeth, clicks them - and then moves to dare and ask. "How is Brass feeling?"

"Well, not that many different trees, and most of them have similar needs in terms of climate. There's a river that cuts through the orchard, which helps with various needs as well. I believe one of my ancestors tried to import and grow citrus trees at one point, but it didn't go as well, but the natural blessings of the greatwood are a big help, even if I don't fully understand things. You should see the apple trees since they take up most of the space, and the other trees are mostly sectioned off into their own experimental gardens." Schara continues to explain, looking up and seeing smoke rising in the distance. Nothing alarming, but a clear sign of habitation in the distance as the remaining chill in the air made it even more prominent. "I believe you would call it Dawn's Embrace in tradespeak, but town is near. Please take the upcoming path on the left, that should lead back home.

"I believe he is trying to take my mind off of anything which may have happened to my mother Aelwyn, which I do appreciate, since it is difficult to think of multiple things at the same time with any level of significant focus." She offers bluntly. "I am feeling worried, distressed, saddened, and various other negative feelings, which is only natural given the circumstances. Even under better ones it has been too long since I have seen them."

"Interested in my friend's homestead," Warrick answers honestly. "And building a case in my head." He nods along with Schara as they list off various other fruit bearing trees, him scratching his head. "I'm sure they're quite impressive, considering how large these trees around here are. Shoot, I bet picking is a pain if they're massive."

He looks away at being caught, Warrick opting to pack his things away and pick up the various implements of his trade strewn around him. He stops briefly, him reaching out to put a hand on the good part of Schara's shoulder. "Not knowing makes it hard. We'll get it sorted out," he says, giving an appreciative look towards Aelwyn for asking the question. "Let's get our things together. It sounds like we're close, no?"

Aelwyn bows his head towards Warrick. "This one can understand." Even if he couldn't understand the obsession with trees. Or building a case around them. It wasn't the time to question Warrick though, so he places his glaive carefully onto the floor again, and slides over Schara.

Hand is placed on her armor, next to Warrick's. "It is why one carries friends with them," The draconian rumbles, "So they can be distracting." He rolls his shoulders, then moves to secure his glaives again. "Anything we should know before leaving?"

"I'm not entirely sure what case Warrick is thinking about either with trees." Schara admits, though the artificer doesperk up and lean over the back of the carriage as more green is visible down the road to their left. "Well, yes, we are close, not far from there now, and I'm very lucky to have friends relying on returning home, since I didn't have any leaving home to begin with. Before leaving where, Aelwyn?"

"Don't worry about it just yet," Warrick waves off. Best to keep those cards close, as loathe as he was to admit it, Schara wasn't the best at keeping quiet on some things.

He gives the shoulder a parting pat before he picks up his helmet. "... leaving this carriage?" he supplies.

Aelwyn nods his head at Warrick's supplement, then flashes his teeth. "Yes, before leaving this carriage." Then he glances towards Warrick, giving the man a look. "Words such as those are ripe for making someone worry." He chides with a flick of his tail. "Yet worry not, Brass. For a good and brave heart will always find a friend to rely on, like today."

"Oh! Right, leaving the carriage, well, don't worry about me, I'll get out when I'm ready to after it's stopped." Schara answers abruptly, realizing the question. "Well, I guess I'm not certain, It should just be my family here, and if that's the case, well there aren't that many visitors, so, hang on just a momen-"

The artificer twists a few parts on their helmet, adjusting it until their voice was no longer obfuscated, instead just sounding a bit tinny. "If I can tell them you're with me, it should be just fine, I'm certain!"

"Understood," Warrick nods, him glancing towards Aelwyn. Saying nothing but patting the law book. Seems like he has his own thing in mind. "Perhaps for the best. A handful of armed mercenaries isn't exactly the most comforting thing for a family of gardeners."

Click. Sap in place. Click. Click. Snap.

Aelwyn looks at Schara, now genuine worry returning to him. Then he remembered it was Schara, and this was about normal with her. "This one shan't worry - what is the worst that could happen?" He asks, before bending down and neatly lifting up his glaives. A light strap is repeatedly wrapped around their hafts to keep them together, but beyond that he had nothing to prepare.

"There are many bad things that can happen, but I will do my best not to worry about them, since you both are as well." Schara answers, patting Aelwyn and Warrick on the shoulder, before settling back down into the carriage. 

Down the road the carriage continued, the road growing significantly rougher with less use. The green in the distance turning to row upon row of aged trees, the green the numerous buds of spring growth quickly appearing. 

Off on one side of the road after some time passed was a large hand cart, filled to the brim with mulch. A relatively tall(for their kind) elf was shoveling it around one of the many trees, with light brown hair and skin darkened from working outdoors. The elf adjusted their hat before the cart was too close, and their hand twitched slightly to the quiver of arrows on one of their hip. "Not expecting any deliveries today and this is private property, unless you have reason to be here or you're in real need, I'd like to ask you kindly to leave." They call over. <Sildanyari>

-End Scene-