The next morning, the group splits up, with Dante and his group heading northeast, and Wilhelm heading south.
The open areas to the north east are relatively safe, however, haven't been officially explored or marked. Dante's group's path take them into territory that is split between their letter of steadship and Varn's steadship. The borders are to be agreed upon by both steadholds, although until they place markers, there's nothing to agree on.
The open plains are somewhat muddy from the recent rains, and the horses slog along, not at all happy (other than Salvianna's who seems to enjoy the mud and making as many splashes and splatters as possible along the way!).
On the second day, they come across a small 4 wagon caravan. The traders are a mixture of Human and half-orc and half-elf, ten in total. The caravan master is a short human in a top-hat with a feather sticking out of it. "AH! Welcome! A patrol from the new kingdom!" Then he stops, and wrings his hands. "You are a patrol, right? Not bandits?"
Some minutes ahead of the designated leave time, Fhârn shows up accompanied by someone whom is no doubt supposed to be his sister. There is a brief exchange between the siblings before the introduction. Due to heavily accented Common and major incursions of Skald it is hard to follow but the gist of it seems to be 'stay out of trouble or mother is going to flay me'. A somewhat sincere nod later, they ride up to the party.
"This is my sister Eldír. She'll make sure Munin can find you - even if you go off route a little - so that we can keep eachother and the capital up to date. Good luck!"
With that brief introduction, Fhârn hurries away to catch up with his own exploration party.
Even with her brother hastily leaving, it is clear that the siblings doesn't look that similar. Eldhír does not seem to have inherited any of the ruggedness associated with northerners. Instead she is quite small of statue, her heavy coat looks at least one size too large, and her features are sharper. Most peculiar are her eyes deep blue instead of pale, with one tinted almost towards green.
With a grin almost oozing friendliness she offers each and every partymember a handshake as a greeting. Her nails are long and carefully painted, another stark contrast to her casual everyday wear.
As soon they leave the city limits a heavy repeating crossbow comes out of her saddlebags and she starts stringing and loading it up. Past midday she is openly speculating about how to best shoot a troll, so does not seem overly burdened by her promise to Fhârn.
Wilhelm catches Lanya's eye and he smiles, if a little weakly. He leans his head in to listen to Natalie, eyes darting from Mitrov to Lanya as she speaks. Clearing his throat, he nods once in reply, "You're right, of course." Drawing a breath, he seems to regain a measure of composure, saying, "I'll forward to it Lanya. I'm sure that this business that the lord Medvyed has for you will be resolved quickly enough. As to you Pruett, your skill as an archer and an arcanist will be welcome. It is only fair that you will have the same opportunity to see to Domierov's safety as did Dareon."
Looking calmer as he continues to speak, Wilhelm says, "I think for now it would be best if we retire. We had intended to leave early tomorrow to be about our business. Speak to my steward, Domitian, if you require anything"
Wilhelm greets Fhârn's sister with a warm, if distracted, handshake. "Fhârn has been a loyal friend and a bulwark against the dangers of this land. Any family of his are near to family of my own. It is good to meet you."
Scowling as Wiley manages to find, again, the largest of the puddles fouling the path through the Greenbelt, Salvianna is caught off guard by the caravan master's greeting, "And a good day to you as well, sir. No, were are not bandits and we are from the kingdom. Domierov, to give it its proper name. I am Lady Salvianna Varn. I don't believe I caught your name, however. That aside, why would you think us bandits?"
"Ah ah! Lady Varn, my apologies." He frowns, and looks at a nearby woman. "Miltia, Varn? I thought we were west of the Varn holdings? How'd you get so far off?' Turning back, he smiles. "My apologies again, we thought we were north of the Orlovsky holdings. I am Garent Malacker, Trader and Traveller! As to why you might be bandits... well, my lady, no offense, but you are all heavily armed and armored, and with all that mud on you, it's all but impossible to see any crests or anything..." Left unsaid is that bandits often use old or fake crests to look like they aren't bandits...
Upon the merchant's mention of heavy arms, Eldhír looks down at the crossbow she was fiddling with. Clearly not a hit. With a flash of guilt she stopped and slung it onto her back instead.
":We are west of Varnhold and north of the 'Orlovsky holdings':" Eldhír replies, her accent still retaining most of it's northerner tone. ":Domierov is the 'Orlovsky holdings':"
She shoots of a small smile and tries to gauge Garent. Is he glad to miss Varnhold? I have heard little good from that place... Her hands quickly grows restless and she starts to fiddle with her compass instead.
"I apologize for the confusion. You are indeed near the Orlovsky holdings. I am Lady Varn née Orlovsky, so the confusion is absolutely understandable! Tell me, master Malacker, what brings you these lands and have you any news from Brevoy? I don't think you should find so many bandits so close to the capitol."
Garent does indeed seem relieved to have missed Varnhold.
Garent looks at Slavianna, and bows. "Ah, I was not aware Varn and Orlovsky had allied so. Please, call me Garent. It is a pleasure to meet you milady. As to bandits, well, there are rumors of bandits, both humand and non-human. Rumors are what you paid for them, of course, but only a fool doesn't at least listen to them." He shrugs. "I'm a merchant, my good lady, I buy and sell things. I have wagons loaded with cloth, needles, thread, and other household necessities, things a growing kingdom will have trouble making themselves for awhile. Also salt, four barrels of it." He grins at that. "I daresay your holding could use that. The only news I have is that Lebeda announced no more than two weeks ago that Lander will be taking his place on the throne as rightful ruler in the spring. Also, there's rumors that Lord Gurev Medvyed was seriously hurt on a boar hunt, but there's been nothing official. Rumors have him anywhere from a broken leg to dead and ripped apart and the family hiding it to keep things stable while they hammer out his succession. You know what rumors are worth though..."
Really doesn't seem to like Varn(hold?)... Eldhír notes.
":How are the other families feeling about Lebeda's announcement, if you have heard?:" she inquires. They do seem to squabble a lot! The topic was interesting and it seemed as one of those 'developments' her brother would be interested in. And it distracted the man from the Varn-Orlovsky 'connection' until Salvianna had a good response!
The stern faced general rides back into town. Barking an order at the nearest soldier.
"You. What is the state of the quarantine?" he waits for the man to tell him.
Then he says. "Have my daughter meet me in the command tent."
He rides Mandarb with a steady gait further into the city.