Imon wasn't sure what had brought this on, or what he was to say to it, and it showed on his face. "This is quite an honor, one that I am uncertain as to how I have earned. Obviously I accept. It's funny, I left Restov hoping to put an end to the bandit raids, and I have already done more to achieve that goal out here than in all the time I was among the city guard."
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Gorax's eyes cloud as Stellan talks of his father, though his facial features harden, "A good man your father." he says though from his intonation it is difficult to detect if this were a statement or question. A sadness tinges the words, as he rides in silence north at the head of the group with Stellan. His strong hands hang limply on the horses neck, gently holding the reins, his dirty brown boots squeeze into the horse's newly brushed short brown haired body. A reminder to keep on moving forward. He looks around into the depths of the forest from his elevated position on the horses back, but his mind seems deep in thought.
He continues on like this, following the path that Stellan points out.
Traveling at night, you arrive at Oleg's early the following morning. The trading post is already a beehive of activity as you ride in. It's easy to here Donal's commanding shouts as he instructs a couple of the reformed bandits in the proper ways to align the foundation stones of his new forge.
Sari and the younger Meyerson children are running between the wagons in a game of tag, while the older kids are all engaged in helping their parents clear more ground outside of the palisade for planting or building.
Ursula and Duella are the first to spot your returning party as they hang a variety of herbs gathered from the surrounding countryside. With happy waves they alert the others and greet you with open arms.
As Ursula notices the prisoners, she looks at Thad and Warren saying "I take it your mission was a success?"
The trail skirts the edge of the forest as it winds north over the gently rolling hills of the Stolen Lands. Hours pass until the sun starts to dip below the horizon and it becomes clear that it won't be possible to reach Oleg's before dark.
Warren introduces Imon to the children and the settlers.
"This is Imon, a true law man from the north. Please limit your question of him to twenty a day." He glances at Sari knowingly.
Warren is being at least partially serious.
Stellan leads the group on the north trail, not that he needs to, the blind could follow this route. At the midday break Stellan remarks, "For a mostly uninhabited land there are a lot of signs of traffic, I'm thinking more is going on here that has ever been suspected, or at least mentioned."
Survival
"The people that rode from the ford are about five to six hours ahead of us and it will be dark before we get to Oleg's. I think we need to night ride and see about it all."
"In any case, I agree we need to get to the trading post as quickly as we can. Today has not been too taxing, so continuing through the night should not be a problem." Anwel looks positively excited at the possibility. He briefly considers proposing that their expdetions be nocturnal from now on, but reconsiders. That would be pushing things. Instead, he trains his eyes on the northern horizon, alert for any smoke signals from the trading post suggesting that they'd had trouble or aid.
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"You know, a bit of food is a good idea Andrei." as they find a bit of a clearing. He hops down off his horse, "If we're going through the night, it'll be good to stretch me legs and make meself comfortable. Afore I have to ride another few hours, don't wanna get stuck to that horse." he smiles before unpacking some rations and chewing.
Imon looked over the crowd, not sure how he felt about an introduction like that. He smiled, somewhat embarrassed and said, "I'm not entirely sure how 'true' a lawman I am, though I thank you for the compliment. After that, Imon leaned in close and whispered, "Twenty questions a day? Is that a joke?"
Quickly gathering up any useful gear and your prisoners you set a steady pace back to Oleg's. Nothing of interest happens during the return trip and the prisoners remain quiet and unconscious.
Thad carries his right arm in a loose sling as he walks with his horse back to the outpost, the unconscious bandit leader tied to his saddle. He could probably use it if he needed to but he thought it best to be safe and take it easy. As their new home comes into view he can't help but be slightly relieved- the way the bandits had spoken with almost superstitious dread of the things 'wrong' with the land had conjured up a vague sense of unease and he was glad to see that all was well.
"I take it your mission was a success?"
Thad answers her question with a relieved nod, "Aye, in more than one respect. The bandits are all dealt with, and though Kressel wore the charm we managed to bring her back alive. She's not doing well though... I did what I could for her, she's breathing regular and her pulse is strong but she hasn't woken up since it got to tearing at her."
The sun has nearly completed its climb toward midday as you ride over a small crest to see Oleg's Trading Post. It's immediately clear that the tiny outpost has changed significantly since you were last here. Four good sized wagons are set up outside of the walls and numerous people appear busy at work doing everything from clearing land for planting to laying the foundation for a new outbuilding. There are even a few young children running around through the slightly organized construction chaos.
From one of the small platforms of the palisade a guard begins to ring a bell after spotting your arrival. The sound of the alarm causes many to scramble for the walls or gather weapons set nearby for just such an emergency.
Gesturing toward the trail you just rode in on he points out a group of five riders. Although all are unfamiliar, at least one is clearly dressed in black robes.
"Lets see what has happened"
Andrea walks done the hill towards trading post with a broad smile and waves to any of the workers who look up, his eyes dart around for Oleg or his wife.
Andrei walk gives the impression of confident nobility even if his clothes and equipment does not. When he moves he maintain his balance and it clear to any experienced fighter that has been trained to duel. His dirty blond hair is messy but seems to naturally fall to frame his face and draw attention to his piecing blue eyes. His chin is covered in stubble which softens the square jaw below. His body is muscular and well-toned either the result of hard work or too much leisure time practice with the sword.
If his stance indicates nobility then his equipment indicates that he is down on his luck and finances. His clothes are worn and even new would not be expensive. His sword has rust on the pommel and his armour and shield and similarly worn and dented in places. He has none of the jewellery nobility normally wear with the possible exception of occasional glint of something shiny worn under his clothes on a leather necklace.
They might have come out of the west, beyond the Narlmarches. Anwel has no information about what their activity or the land is like there - it's not impossible that these people were hostile and that they'd taken the trading post. He does know, however, that the South Rostland Road, the only road around here that could support carts and carriages in any meaningful way curves north from the trading post. Far more likely that these people came from there, or from Restov or its hinterland in the east - with the north slightly more likely, since they had seen no smoke signals. Which meant that this alarm could not be allowed to escalate into something they'd all regret. "Safe?" he says to Andrei. "Whoever these people are, they are drawing swords on us. We should establish our identity, and then introduce ourselves. Again."
Anwel snaps his pale fingers and the charter is in his hand. He lets it unfurl and with his right hand raises it over his head like a protective aegis. The motion throws off his hood, and his long, white hair catches the breeze. It tickles his sensitive ears, but his face is serious and his dark grey eyes are wide. he hollers, He looks up at the sharpened stakes of the palisade, daring the people behind it to believe him. In his left hand he's cupped a spell. Should the people not believe him and attack, they will see the charter grow twenty feet high - even if they can't read it or don't believe the words, as long as he can sustain the magic his friends can take cover behind it.
"Safe?" it says, its head seeming to turn under its heavy black hood. It seems to be regarding another figure with good posture but messy brown hair and stubble, wearing leather armor and leading a pack mule. Its tone is annoyed. "Whoever these people are, they are drawing swords on us. We should establish our identity, and then introduce ourselves. Again."
The figure's hand moves and a piece of parchment appears in it. It unfurls and with his right hand the figure raises it overhead like a protective aegis. It is slightly yellowed, neither new-white nor aged brown and brittle. The words are small and difficult to make out, but the layout of the paragraphs seems very familiar to anyone bearing a charter of exploration. The motion throws off the figure's hood, and its long, white hair catches the breeze. As it flies in the wind it exposes the leaf-shaped ears, large, gray eyes, and serious expression of an elf. It speaks now to be heard, the voice not changing much in timbre for the volume.
Andrei smiles at Anwel "Anwel, there was no smoke signal. And anyway humans are easier to deal with than undead monsters."
"Greetings friends, do not be concerned we mean you no harm." Andrei calls out.
Stellan hangs back as the others greet the settlement that has grown so much in a few days. He tries to look as harmless as possible as Vinur wiggles in his hands, wanting to run in a beg for some bones. "Shush, Vinur, we need to prove friendship again here, they are unsettled, wait a bit," Stellan says quietly.
Andrei smiles at Anwel "Anwel, there was no smoke signal. And anyway humans are easier to deal with than undead monsters."
"Greetings friends, do not be concerned we mean you no harm." Andrei calls out.
Thinking that nothing can be wrong, as there was no signal, is dangerous thinking, Udo says, And while humans are easier in general to deal with, well-barricaded walls with humans behind them are not.
Warren sends his two eagles aloft to scout as he mounts the pallisade to look out. Seeing the approaching group, Warren motions to Imon to join him.
"I see a group of riders approaching. One of them is garbed in black."
As he scans the approaching riders, Warren shouts to the garrison: "Anyone expecting visitors?"
Though relieved to be back at their new home, Thad never lets his weapons be far from hand. Completely aside from the rumors of fell afflictions plaguing the land there's the matter of the bandits working their penance... while he trusts them and their desire to turn a new leaf, he has a duty to the settlers and one never knew when a simple disagreement might turn violent.
Thad leaps to his feet when the alarm bell rings out its warning and rushes to the walls. Bow drawn, he waits for the group to ride closer. When they come within shouting distance he hears them call out and waits for Oleg or Svetlana or Kesten to shed some light on their presence. It was hard to imagine one of the blackrobes having been granted a charter, or any of the settlers at the trading post having willingly conducted any business with one, but he's willing to wait and see how the situation develops before firing on the approaching party.
Imon followed Warren as he was bidden and took a place on the walls. He readied his bow and watched the strangers approach. When it looked like they were in range of the spell, he used his free hand to withdraw a length of copper wire from his pocket and closed a fist around it as he spoke the words he'd been taught. He then pointed with that hand at the black robed rider and whispered.
Under the edge of the charter, Anwel sees one of the men on the wall take something out of his pocket. It seems to disappear into the man's fist, which he holds next to his mouth. Anwel allows himself a small smile of relief when he hears a whisper in his ear. So they want to talk. Or at least this one man wants to talk - if he was speaking for them all he'd have shouted his message for them all to hear. Still, that was something, and Anwel figures he should not screw up this chance by not replying in kind. He tilts his head at the man on the wall and taps his ear to signal to the others what's going on, trying to communicate his intentions as best he can without speaking aloud and possibly ruining the communication spell.
"Svetlana and Oleg told us they were being harassed, so we went to find the bandits in the wilderness. We lost the trail we had been following, but did come upon tracks that led back here. Thinking that bandits had managed to get between us and the trading post, we came back as quick as we could. We have been walking and riding nonstop since yesterday morning."
"Now who are you? Who are all these people? When we left it was just Svetlana and Oleg here, and a few Restovites. Why are they pointing swords and arrows at us? And can you tell them to stop?"
Knowledge (Local) to identify Tercio:
Imon lowered his bow and looked to Warren. "The one in black claims to be here on the authority of the Swordlord Tercio. He said they were here before, but went out hunting bandits."
He turned back to the stranger and started whispering again.
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Gorax approaches, a shortbow in hand. He sees their compatriot, the strange shadow man, speak and whisper in the wind. Gorax looks perplexed not understanding. Slightly annoyed that he seems to have been ignored, despite his worth as a fighter, Gorax speaks roughly to Anwell, "Well, what's going on. Are we good or not?" He voice betrays a growing impatience at the secretive magical words.
Stellan looks up from Vinur and sees Anwel tap his ears and start whispering.
Spellcraft Identify spell.
Perception Listen in.
Stellan talks to Gorax, quietly, "Gorax, it looks like Anwel's talking to someone, somehow. Shush, I hear them talking, a mage at the post cast a spell to talk easily with Anwel; Anwel must whisper to reply. Don't interupt Anwel, for now, please, the post mage is suspicious of us; he wants to know our business."
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"He could just come out and ask. Why do they make life so complicated with their magic stuff. Isn't it complicated enough as it is." Gorax replies to Stellan. His distrust, born of ignorance of magic, seems to pepper every word he says. His muscular arm pulls back his bowstring back in practice for when the ambush comes, the bow straining under the pressure.
Not content to wait for a response, which might contain any demand, Anwel decides to further show his good faith. He lets his spell dissipate in order to roll the charter back up into a scroll, and goes back to holding it aloft. Keeping his free hand visible, he walks slowly towards the wall .
Stellan frowns at Gorax, "Please put that down, looking hostile is not the best way to a hot meal, don't you want some of Svetlana's cooking?"
Perception Listen in.
"Since Anwel moved up I can't quite hear him. Hope this ends soon; why don't they just ask Oleg and the others?" Stellan looks and feel a bit vexed, Vinur licks his face in sympathy.
Andrei smiles and turns to Stellan and says jokingly, "Unless the circle of death was a portal to another realm after all and in this one we never existed, or atleast didn't take up the charter."
"Well, let them in already. It seems the Brevoy nobility was free with these pieces of paper."
He jokes with Imon, "I guess a charter and a silver piece will get you a small beer in any tavern in Brevoy."
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Gorax's eyes open wide, when Andrei speaks, he blurts out to stellan, "What in the seven levels of hell is Andrei on about? Has he been drinking and fallen foul of the devil with drink and made his mind mad? Stellan, tell me its alright?" A world of confusion has suddenly hit Gorax, not knowing whether to keep his bow or sword ready, he dithers between the two.
"We're the only sane one here Stellan. You speak right, let's just call out to Oleg and Swetlana. Get some of her wholesome food inside our bellies, it might just do the trick and calm everyone."
At Andrei's joke and Gorax's outburst, Stellan just shakes his head, "Andrei was just joking Gorax, he's just as surprised as I am how much this post changed in mere days."
Stellan's getting tired of this too, so he also dismounts and walks forward, hands empty. Stellan shouts as loud as he can over the walls,
After a few minutes, as tensions begin to rise Oleg finally bursts through the door of the main house. Breathing heavily he climbs to the platform and gazes out at the newcomers. Still trying to catch his breath, he takes a moment to run his hands through his hair and peers closer at the Stellan, Gorax and the others.
When Stellan hollers, he quickly slaps his hand to head and turns to Thad, Warren, and Imon saying, "Bah! I recognize them now. Another group of folk like yourselves bearing the Mayor of Rostov's charter."
He waves down to the guards at the gate, "Let 'em in Emil. They're alright."
To those outside he says, "Sorry for the confusion lads. Things have been a bit troublesome since you lot passed through and as you can see we've women and children to see to now." He offers a friendly wave, "Come in and rest yourselves. Svetlana and the others are just laying the midday meal."
With Oleg's last words the gate swings open and a young girl, about seven years old, dressed in breeches and an worn tunic, charges through the opening and immediately spots Vinur. At once her eyes go wide, a smile bursts forth and it almost seems as if her long blonde curls stand on end as she shouts "Puppy!". The echoes still reverberate through the trading post as she sprints toward Stellan and Vinur. Arriving at the big Ulfen's feet, she instantly fires off a barrage of questions.
"Wow! Can I pet him? Where'd you get him? Is he a wild beast like the one we saw coming south? Does he eat orc livers? How come his fur is that color? Will he eat my sisters biscuits?" At that last question she offers Vinur a good sized chunk of biscuit covered in a rather large helping of jam and honey.
Andrei relaxes as the gate opens and starts strolling down the hill leading his mule. He opens his mouth to warn the girl about wild animals but can't bring himself to curb her curiousity.
Walking in the gate he smiles and waves to Oleg then turns the any others that have gathered "Good day, I'm Andrei Avotrus. Oleg, what are these troubles? Is there anything we can do? At least after a good meal and a sleep." He says smiling broadly.
Vinur sees the honey covered biscuit offered to him and jumps at once to grab it out of the child's hand, nearly taking a finger with it. He wolfs it down as Stellan pulls him back. Unabashed at Stellan's admonishments Vinur wags his tail and begs for more.
Stellan waves at Oleg and is surprised by the rambuncious girl. "Whoa, there," Vinur grabs the offered biscuit. "Vinur, No! You nearly hurt the youngling."
Stellan turns to the girl and says, "He not a puppy, he's my friend and familiar, and yes, he is wild, it is dangerous to offer food, or to play with him without knowing him; he might bite you if he feels threatened or teased. But he's very nice once he knows you, but he's not a pet. I don't want you petting him just yet, he's tired from our trip and might be cranky." Stellan draws breath, "I don't want him eating any Orc's he might get the wrong ideas. Cow or goose is good though. He's white because he's a northern wolf. And that is enough questions for now, I'd like to have my midday meal. I'd like to know your name though."
Stellan gets his horse and leads her in. "Greetings everyone, I'm Stellan, these are my companions, Anwel, Udo, Gorax, and Andrei. We have some minor tales but I suspect they may pale in comparison with the other charter members. First food, then we can talk." Stellan, after caring for his horse, heads for the food. He answer any questions put to him, adults first, but continues his practical tasks.
Imon smiled at the joke, and replied with, "I suppose so. They must be desperate to get this territory back under control."
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Gorax's muscles release their tension, his bow is put away and Gorax walks down quietly to the stockade with his hand resting on his sword pommel, not totally at ease. He smiles as the little girl feeds Stellan's wolf and watches the three move together through the gates.
He looks around at the armed men that had been mobilized to greet them and the others there. His nose sniffs the air as a whiff of Svetlana's stew drifts on the breeze, despite himself he can't help but sigh. "Tis as I remember, a real mother's meal." he says to no-one in particular. His nose leads him further on, sniffing, his face relaxing, "Ahh, food."
Puzzled, he claps his arms around Oleg, "So who are all these people? and what are they doing here at your home, eh Oleg?"
Thad lets out a relieved sigh as he sets his bow aside and climbs down from the stockade and helps the guards open the gate.
"Greetings everyone, I'm Stellan, these are my companions, Anwel, Udo, Gorax, and Andrei."
"Pleased to meet you, my name's Thad. How long have you lot been out here? We just left from Rostrov on the 25th of Calistril, though it sure feels like a lot longer than that..."
"Udo and I departed Restov on the twenty-fourth, as quickly as we could," says Anwel. Neither Oleg, nor Imon, nor this Thad seem to want to examine the charter, so he slides it back into his robe. "The others followed afterwords." Anwel is loath to be more friendly than that to someone who had just had an arrow trained on him. Not yet.
He passes through the gatehouse slowly, with measured steps that barely reveal his feet under the hems of his robes. He looks around inside, at the hustle and bustle imposed on what he'd known as a near-empty trading post. The social scene had got more complex in Anwel's absence, and he would need to study it to see where the power lay.
Oleg's power, as ever, came from his holding private property. Anwel referred to this place as "the trading post" in conversation, and put Svetlana's name before Oleg's whenever he spoke of the pair, but that was wishful thinking on his part. He could greet travelers like Anwel and his friends in relative repose while Svetlana - and presumably other women, given the number of people here - toiled over the cookfires and around the tables. In a context where the other settlers held nothing except what they'd brought with them, the trading post was a powerful asset.
Kesten and Imon held power of a different kind. In them was embodied Brevoy's state power in these lands. They might not yet be strong enough to guarantee the land claims of the settlers, but they were strong enough to command their obedience. And that was all well and good, but Anwel is uneasy at how comfortable they are doing so in the name of Brevoy. If Thad and the mystery falconer are their allies, pushing for a more independent posture would prove even more difficult than it has been already. At least Thad could not trade on the Sovyrian mystique - an elf would not have given him such a name.
Anwel's body has been taking him somewhere while he thought. When he began paying attention to the world again, he was unsurprised to find himself by the tables where the food was being laid out. Gorax, it seems, had beaten him there, but he was just standing around. Anwel makes his way to Svetlana. "It is a great deal of work, feeding so many, no?" he says, his hands out and ready to receive a platter or tureen. "May I help?
Udo nods as Anwel explains. He seems much more at ease than he was outside, although he's still not sure what to make of these others. He keeps to himself for the majority of the day, studying his formula book at some times, and at others helping with physical labor as needed around the post.
Andrei will chat easily with the settlers while he eats "I am a bit of collector of stories and would be very interest in hearing yours if you wouldn't mind and of course share mine if you are willing to listen." Andrei will be particularly listening out for the established power structure here and any allegiances people mention.
After lunch "Thank you Svetlana that was wonderful as always." Yawning he gets up and starts wandering through the settlers he wasn't sitting near during lunch and offering to help with what every they are currently doing and chatting while he does so.
After Oleg's shout and watching the young girl's antics the rest of the defenders and residents lower their guard and welcome the newcomers openly.
Many join in the conversation around a set of three large tables set up off to the side of the courtyard. Each table is laid out with a fine spread of bread, cheeses, water, ale, and two pots of stew with dishes, plates, and utensils.
Others return to their earlier labors outside the walls or near one of the large canvas tents that have been set up to offer additional shelter for the crowded outpost.
A puff of breath escapes Oleg's lips as Gorax's strong arms cause the smaller man to lurch to one side slightly. Shaking his head at the other man's strength, Oleg smiles and says, "Yes, things have changed a bit since you lot were through."
He gestures toward those gathering around the table. "Most of these folks are settlers planning to try their luck down here in the south. Good hard workin' folk looking to make a new start in this wild country." With a nod toward Thad and Warren he adds,"And of course the good warriors who got 'em this far safe and sound."
"We've also acquired a few more reformed bandits captured by Master's Thad and Warren and their companions." He points to a group of men heading back out the gate. Three of the men have the most outrageously colored hair ranging from a bright hot pink to aqua blue.
"So far this lot has stuck it out unlike that Happs fellow." He shakes his head slightly at the mention of the former bandit. "Of course I guess he got what was comin' to him in the end."
Svetlana smiles brightly, "Anwel, isn't it? It's kind of you to ask, but we've plenty of hands for now." She tilts her head toward the kitchen where a young woman, with dark hair pinned up in a neat bun carries another loaded tray out to the hunger gathering. She's followed by another woman, older, but still retaining some of the youthful good looks of the other who must be a daughter or other relation.
Of course, she adds with another quick grin, "We'll still need help cleaning and clearing up."
Sari nods quietly at Stellan's advice, then quickly winks and smiles at Vinur before pulling out a long ivory fang hanging from a simple leather thong around her neck. The thing is several inches long. Looking back up at Stellan she says, "Oh I'm not afraid of wild beasts. Why I got this off of a giant snake on our way here. He was terribly big but daddy, Thad, and the others all killed it dead and I wasn't scared one bit even though I was stuck it the wagon when the horses ran."
She follows Stellan inside chattering away until a tall, lanky man dressed in a simple cotton tunic and wearing a brimmed hat walks up. [b]"Sari." he says to the girl. "Leave the poor man alone, and how many times have I told you to be careful around strange animals."
Looking slightly chagrined the girl offers a quiet 'yes papa,' but then brightens again as she spots the table full of food. She darts off before the man can say anything else.
Shaking his head he turns to Stellan, "I hope she didn't cause you any trouble. He puts his hand out in greeting, "Names Fulton Meyerson glad to meet you."
Stellan, while listening to the girl chatter, also checks Oleg's out as he does his chores.
Perception:
If he hears Andrei's questioning, Sense Motive: Not trying, just the kind of guy who likes people and pays attention.
Knowledge (Local) to identify Tercio: 1d20 + 7 => (15) + 7 = 22
Stellan says seriously, "Well, maybe you should be a little afraid of wild beasts, at least make sure they are friendly first before feeding them."
Stellan grins at the dad, shakes Fulton's his hand after putting his shortspear aside, and says, "No trouble, but Vinur near took a finger off her the way she offered her biscuit. I'm sure she's a handful, but her spirit she'll need in these wild lands. I'm a good forester but here I feel like a mouse belling a cat. Just a little caution is needed. Oh, and my name is Stellan Volkov, wild mountain man, from the Brenthlend, far to the west. Very pleased to meet you indeed, we are going to need some support out there." Stellan waves his hand toward the outside.
As everyone sits around the table suddenly a dwarf bursts out from the back side of one of the wagons. His beard and eyebrows are singed as are several areas of his brightly colored and multipatched cloak. As he scurries around the corner in a furious scamper toward the gate, his red and yellow striped stovepipe hat bounces lightly a top his head. Something in a clay vile, held straight out from his body as far as his short arms can reach, smolders, pops, crackles, and sizzles as he dashes outside the gate. A few minutes later a loud, thunderous explosion echoes through the midday air. Followed a few minutes later by the scent of sulphur, chamomile, and lemon.
Another dwarf, dressed in much more traditional leather and cotton pokes his head out of the wagon and shouts, "I told you not to mix in too much Star Thistle with the nitrates and distilled Grogan's root." Shaking his head he mutters under his breath, "Fool dwarf will be the death of me yet." Just as he steps up to Thad.
Addressing the paladin he says in his gruff voice, "Welcome back elf. Pointing to the prone Kressle and new prisoners he says, "It looks like you had some good hunting."
"Oleg, I take it taht Happs and his men caused you some troubles? I am sorry that I advised for him to stay and pay off his crimes rather than hang."[/b]
"It is," says Anwel, his hands disappearing into his sleeves after the women pass and not a one seems eager to unburden herself. "And you shall have it." The smells and sights of the laden table tempt Anwel, but he puts them out of his mind. "I do not know what airs the lawmen and enforcers have been putting on," he says quietly, with a meaningful look, "but you know, if you do need help with anything, ask for it. It's no trouble."
Anwel trusts Svetlana's opinion. Of the people he'd met at the trading post so far, she was most like him, owning no property and not really claiming much status - Anwel follows the charter for fear of punishment should he not, from the Restovite lawmen and from his faraway mistress, and whatever regard he wants he'll have to earn. So whatever she can tell him about the other charter-bearers, the ones who had escorted this settler caravan, he will believe.
"And will you not introduce your friends?" he says in a slightly lighter tone. All Anwel can tell about them is that they are related - though whether they are mother and daughter, aunt and niece, or a pair of cousins he is not sure - and that the younger especially cares a great deal for her appearance. Which might make her worth knowing because of her eye for detail and determination to get things just right, or might mean that she cares too much for herself to be worth knowing. That she is serving food suggests the former, but Anwel cannot be sure. Maybe her mother/aunt/cousin made her.
As he's beginning to lose his thoughts in musings and possibilities again, Anwel hears the word "elf" grunted in a guttural voice. He looks toward the voice, but the speaker, a dwarf, is far away and apparently addressing Thad...and, Anwel notices, is indicating a group of beaten and unconscious humans. He frowns, troubled at how he could have missed that sight when he and his friends passed the gate - one, a woman, is covered in blood. According to the dwarf, she and her fellows had been hunted down by Thad and his, which probably made them bandits.
Here, then, was another opportunity to gauge the newcomers' character. He and his comrades had spared Happs, though he and his group were nowhere to be seen now. Maybe they'd been lynched by the settlers - Oleg implied as much. Anwel finds himself wishing he could have seen what had happened to Happs and to these other bandits, and frowns. That woman looked like she'd been tortured. Did he want to see that, and if so, why? He knew he deserved whatever pain, but did he really, on some level, want to enjoy others' too? And what did it mean if he did?
"Who is that, do you know?" he says to no one in particular, looking at the prone and supine people. He sits by one of the long trestle tables, facing glumly away from the food. His fears have displaced hunger from his belly.