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"Yes, it very much is," Wonky says as she looks at Gulch for a pause. After shaking her head, the gnome re-starts. "Regardless, I think that Harmond has the right of it; I have heard of unicorn horns being used as the profane focus for evil incantations. It may be that the villain who did this intends to return to this place for further evil-doing; they may be of the First World and simply saw an opportunity to procure something of value for their dark arts before returning. Debating the matter is moot; the wheel will turn and the grain will be ground and we must simply wait to sample the bread. That is how the Ustalavic saying goes."
She brightens considerably and regards Jhod again. "You are doing a wonderful job here, Jhod. I can see the will of Erastil in the sweat that you have devoted to this place. I am excited that you are excited about the statue that we found."
Jhod smiles meekly as Eunomia deposits the magical device in his calloused hands, but his face truly brightens with rare confidence upon receiving Wonky's praise.
"Thank you all, for all you've done. I promise I will continue to work hard to turn this temple into a sacred haven."
He fiddles with the any-tool, trying to learn its basic workings. After a time, though, Jhod returns his attention to you.
"Where will you go next?"
The Vixen reiterates her question, "Any tips on how to not fall into Breeg's traps?"
Aside from wanting to know that, she's ready to recover Breeg's body, then finally get back to Ash!
Harmond mutters under his breath when Ahto mentions "other matter"
"Please, I hope nothing else comes up. I just want to sleep in a bed again."
In addition to a lack of concern for others, Breeg also lacked creativity. As you learn from Mr. Gulch, Breeg's traps do not differ from those of any ordinary trapper. He provides tell-tale details that will help you recognize a deadfall, a concealed pit, rope snares, or the aforementioned spiked leg holes.
Once you depart the temple grounds, your fey companions reappear at your shoulder.
"One of those biggins smelled like onions," Tyg says. "I mean, really, really like onions. I hope that's what he was getting treated for 'cause that is not an acceptable amount of onion."
Perlivash leads you to Breeg's body, about six miles northwest from the Temple of the Elk. You find him, his legs still pinned beneath a crush of logs. His canteen sits by his head, and a finely made hatchet lies near his hand. Marks upon the logs make it clear that he furiously hacked at them with his hatchet in a futile attempt to free himself but gave up as his arms succumbed long before the wood.
As you draw near, a pair of vultures perched around the body take wing and flee from your approach. They alight upon overhanging branches, well above the body, waiting for the chance to resume their meal. Their beaks have already removed Breeg's eyes and tongue, leaving the rest of his face quite unrecognizable.
The Vixen really wishes the vultures finished the job. She keeps her distance from the corpse until given orders to lug the body, but even from where she stands, she tells Tyg, "Poor Breeg, rest his reckless soul, stinks worse than Mr. Onions and Lake Egg-Fart combined."
Hoping to spare everyone's nostrils more abuse than necessary, she asks Harmond, "Any chance that big, strong doll o' yers can lug the body? Preferably from downwind of us?"
Eunomia joins Ahto in examining the scene. She is very careful to disturb things as little as possible, although she does pick up the canteen and shake it to see if there is still any water inside. She also tests the sharpness of the hatchet.
Why was he unable to cut through the logs? Could he not get a good angle from his position?
Harmond nods to Vixen "Sure thing, although I can only get about two hours of work out of him before I need to rest for the the day."
Harmond walks over to the corpse, seemingly unbothered by the sight or smell, and sets his marionette on the ground before speaking. "Vencarlo, I need your aid. Time to wake up."
With that it stands up and begins moving around on its own power. A few seconds later it begins to expand growing in size to that of a full sized man.
Once Eunomia and Ahto are done investigating he orders the doll.
"Vencarlo, can you please carry that thing," He gestures to the corpse,"for us? Thanks."
The logs that Breeg used in his ill-fated deadfall were dead wood, felled by natural causes rather than saws or axes. The only visible tool is his masterwork hatchet, ill-suited for chopping through such thick trunks, especially given the poor angle that the trapper was caught in.
The canteen is empty, and the hatchet's blade has been dulled - but not notched - by the doomed trapper's swings against his prison. Both tools are still servicable, at least with the aid of a whetstone in the case of the hatchet.
Eunomia and Ahto's examination concludes that Breeg most likely succumbed to blood poisoning resulting from infection in his mangled legs. His final hours were likely spent in a mental fog, delirious with fever. It is visibly evident that scavengers and decay set in long after he was initially trapped, corroborating Perlivash's story that he did his best to sustain the man as long as possible.
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”The evidence present corroborates your account, Perlivash, as far as your efforts to keep him alive following his injury. I must have one last question answered on the matter in order to close the investigation.” He clasps the iron Key of Abadar hanging from his neck with one hand. ”Do you hereby swear that in releasing the deadfall trap your intention was not to harm or kill Breeg, but only to startle him?”
Ahto watches the tiny dragon’s expression carefully as a blue radiance emanates from the Key.
The Vixen tenses as Ahto asks the faerie dragon one final question. He's as thorough as I am biased, she admits to herself.
Eunomia dusts her hands as she stands up, ready to leave the scene. Everything did seem to collaborate Perlivash's confession. She had suspected it would, but it was important to be sure.
And speaking of being sure, she could feel the magic behind Ahto's question. She didn't agree with it, (she didn't like casting spells upon other people without their permission), but she could understand his intent. Still, she does what she can to soften the blow.
"I'm sorry Perlivash. I serve the goddess of truth. Ahto serves the god of law. It's important to both of us that we know. But once this last question is answered, the case will be closed." She smiles at him. "I have no doubt what the answer will be."
The show of divine power scares the faerie dragon, and his spell resistance shrinks back just as his spine and shoulders do. With fear in his meek eyes, he complies with the magical request.
"Yes," he squeaks. "I only wanted to scare Breeg, maybe get him to soil himself. I never wanted to kill no one."
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Ahto nods and releases the divine energy.
”May all present bear witness,” Ahto declares in a deep, formal tone. ”In the matter of the death of the trapper known as Breeg, it has been determined that while the actions of the fae-dragon, Perlivash, lead to the ultimate death of Breeg, the intentions behind those actions were not malicious in nature. This has been certified by Rite of Confession, as administered by myself, Ahto Ulrych, an ordained officiant of the Church of Abadar. I hereby declare the fae-dragon Perlivash to be not guilty of the crime of murder. However, his account, confession and the examined evidence do indicate him guilty of reckless mayhem. As such, if it should be determined that the trapper known as Breeg had a spouse, children, or other family who depended on him for food, shelter and income, then Perlivash shall make restitution to those dependents commensurate to their needs.
He looks to Perlivash with a serious expression.
”Do you understand the terms of your sentence? Do you have anything you wish to say on this matter?” he asks the faerie dragon.
Tension melts from the Vixens tightened lips. She breathes. Relieved. Calmed. Unburdened (aside from all the other shit). She's pretty sure Breeg was not a family man, and so her thoughts wander a little...
And so does she. The Vixen walks a short distance from Ahto and Pervalish. She looks back at Eunomia and, once eye-contact is established, the Vixen touches her own ear.
Eunomia nods at Ahto’s formal sentence. It was fair, although from what they’d discovered so far it didn’t seem like Breeg had any dependents. If we do end up building a kingdom here, we’ll have to codify this sort of law. Manslaughter due to negligence is always a tricky issue...
While she’s thinking about laws and the difficulties of creating them, the Vixen catches her eye. She follows her off a little ways from the rest of the group. ”Is everything alright?”
Away from the group, VV replies to Eunomia...
"To answer ye straight, everything's alright. Pervalish's a free man. I mean, he's a dragon-man. Or maybe he's just a dra—"
The Vixen snaps out of her funk.
"I was scared. That's me point. Really scared that Ahto's hand'd be forced. And what sucks is, I know he's just—I know he's right—and... I know it's me who's biased. It's me who, to be completely honest with ye, felt nothing o'er Breeg's loss. The man was a menace, and while I don't condone killing him, I just don't care that he's dead. He was sadistic and dangerous, and not among the innocent I mean to protect."
She isn't sure what Eunomia's even supposed to do with that information.
Finally, she blurts out, "Pervalish is.
"I'd never betray Ahto—or you—or yer Goddess o' Truth and his God o' Justice... I'm just glad I didn't have to betray me own principles in order to maintain unity and loyalty."
Although Tyg tilts her head in confusion, trying to comprehend all the pronouncements that Ahto makes, Perlivash's eyes show complete understanding within his remorse. He nods his small, draconic head in agreement.
"Since we're being honest" the faerie dragon speaks in his baritone voice, "I should say that I never really thought much of you biggins' laws. They always seemed so silly and overly complicated. I also always thought they were just meant to seize power over the weak. However, if it's a law that deals with...well, matters like this, and if it can prevent people from feeling this bad, then I suppose it has merit."
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”The Law is a tool. Its purpose is to ensure justice, safety, and civility. Unfortunately, like any tool, it can be misused. For those ruled by the Unjust, the Law is seen as a weapon wielded against them. Know this, any law that doesn’t apply to all, regardless of race, creed or station, is no true Law. When common folk are held to account for actions the nobility are given leave to commit at will, the resentment grows like a spark becoming a flame within a pile of dry straw. The resulting conflagration inevitably consumes everything and everyone.”
Harmond seems distracted during Ahto's judgement, studying the corpse intently. He doesn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, taking it in. Near the end when the topic moves to holding the nobility accountable he shuffles uncomfortably.
"But if the law says its ok for tho nobles to act in such a way, but not the commoners, isn't that the law? Doesn't that law, as written in the legal texts need to be followed?"
Harmond seems very uncomfortable looking to the ground as he asks his question.
She leans against a nearby tree, her eyes serious. "Zohls is more concerned with uncovering the truth than with what happens afterwards. Judgment is more her daughter Hebath's domain, while Law of course is Abadar's. I won't pretend I'm an expert on appropriate punishments for crimes. But I will tell you this; if I had felt Ahto's judgment was unnecessarily harsh and not befitting the crime, I would have fought him on it. Preferably verbally, but if gods forbid he had tried to sentence Perlivash to execution and refused to back down, I would have fought him physically if I had no other options. Unity and loyalty are important, but at the expense of betraying your own principles? That is too high a price to pay."
"Don't get me wrong. I like Ahto. He's given me no reason not to trust his judgment. I didn't have any doubts in my mind that he would treat Perlivash's case fairly." Eunomia smiles slightly. "Otherwise we probably would have had this conversation earlier. But I won't betray my principles. Not for anyone. And I would never ask you to betray yours."
"Maybe because the fey're so dear to me, I just... worried.
"But I'm glad the confession went well and even gladder we talked. Yer unwavering honesty's refreshing, and... ye're right. Better to talk than worry in silence—I'm sure Ahto'd be open to discussion if our principles don't align, as he hasn't written me off as a nut yet. And I assume ye haven't either, if ye think me principles're important."
The Vixen smiles sweetly. Her words are completely sincere, and not at all intended as a joke.
Harmond considers it for a moment before speaking up nervously. "Well, if the serfs that maintain the farms outside the estate decide to take a day off of work they are fined, although occasionally they were publicly flogged instead. If mother or father decided to lounge around for a day there would be no repercussions at all. Although certainly father would never waste time with frivolity. In fact it was our families responsibility as land owners to collect the taxes and administer punishments for those not doing their duty."
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”And what would be the consequences to your father if he did not pay taxes to his liege, or answer the call of arms? Would he receive a flogging or a more dire punishment? The responsibilities are different, and the consequences of failing to meet those responsibilities are likewise different.” Ahto replies. ”When I refer to the law, the circumstances should be the same. If one of those serfs forced himself upon your mother, you and your father would expect him to be punished to the full extent of the law. Likewise, if your father forced himself upon the serf’s wife, he should be held to the same account.”
She glances back to where Ahto and Harmond seem to be having a serious conversation. "We should probably get back. Perlivash could likely use some comforting; that whole scene may have been necessary but it was probably still frightening for him. You'd be the best for that, if you're up for it."
Eunomia wanders back just in time to catch the last part of Ahto's statement. It's enough for her to guess the context of the conversation. Right, Harmond's a noble. It makes sense that his experience with the law might be a bit different.
Harmond considers for a moment before responding "I can't imagine father failing to do so. Lets say for purposes of this example he fell ill and mother had to take over his duties while he recovered. I can only imagine that King Surtova would send a sternly worded letter with demands of immediate compliance. If, even then compliance was not forthcoming I would imagine that we would be stripped of title and our lands returned to the crown for redistribution." Harmond begins to get more animated as he speaks, the corpse at his feet completely forgotten. "Even in this hypothetical situation we would be shown deference for our years of service and given the opportunity to make it right before being punished, while your average serve would receive no such opportunity."
Harmond pauses for a few seconds. "As to your second hypothetical, I dare say if a man were to force himself upon mother he would never make it to trial. I doubt anyone would ever even hear about the situation. I would not want to be in that man's shoes." At this he shuffles uncomfortably.
As she walks back with Eunomia, the Vixen says in a tone of obvious false modesty, "Me? The best at..." What's not false is her cheerfulness. "If ye e'er wondered who coined the phrase flattery'll get ye nowhere, I can narrow it down a bit: wasn't me."
Eyeing the diminutive fey, the Vixen calls out, "I got fluffy, vermilion hair and smooth, freckley shoulders for anyone in need of a li'l break from all that hovering." If need be, she clarifies it's more an offer to walk and talk.
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Wonky waits for her moment and then clears her throat.
”If we are set with our plan, I should like to return to the trading post before we are making our way along in near-darkness. We have much to report to Captain Garess, not to mention Oleg and Svetlana. If we are lucky, there might even be a warm dinner in it for us all.”
Sprocket woofs.
”Yes, and a hearty meat bone,” she adds.
The discussion of law bores Tyg, who escapes by taking up the Vixen's offer and alighting upon her shoulder. The grig plays with the curtain of hair around her, using it to feign ownership of a vibrant red wig and mustache.
Perlivash's eyes hint that he follows the conversation but struggles to find interest beneath the weigh of all that's in his mind.
"I thank you for your companionship," the faerie dragon speaks up, interrupting the discussion, "But I think I'd like to go home for a bit and rest."
Your fey friends' nests lie between your current position and Oleg's. They provide directions that expedite your path through the forest to their homes, ensuring that you have enough time to exit the forest and cross the plains to reach the trading post before the night grows too dark.
Thus, after the intervening hours of horseback travel, you again find the welcoming walls of the trading post within sight - highlighted by the lanterns carried by Garess' patrolling soldiers, their light bobbing along the parapets.
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Ahto dismounts and begins unpacking gear. Once everything is in its proper place, he removes his armor and weapons, washes his face and hands, then changes into a clean set of clothes before joining the rest of the group for the evening meal.
"Did anything noteworthy happen while we were away?" he asks Oleg.
The Vixen gives a fond farewell to the fey, asking permission to one day visit them and bring a friend.
The friend of course is Ash, whose lips she longs for. But remembering Ahto's sound advice, the Vixen goes to Garress first. "Evening, Cap'n," she says. "Ash still on duty? I o' course want to see her, but I don't want to be a distraction. I mean... not in a way that hinders her. So I was thinking it might be best to find out from ye when she'll be relieved for the night."
Eunomia wishes farewell to their fey friends as they travel back through the forest. I do hope Perlivash is okay. It was a hard few days for him, between Breeg and Horace.
Cognizant of the fact that she's never been here before, she first tracks down Oleg and Svetlana to introduce herself. "Greetings, I'm Eunomia Verto. I had heard that there was a group clearing bandits from the area and took it upon myself to join. If there's anything I can do to assist you, please let me know." She looks a bit sheepish. "And, um, if you have a free room or bunk or something that you don't mind renting to me I would greatly appreciate it. It's been a while since I've seen a proper bed."
Despite the late hour and the deepening dusk, Oleg yet remains in the yard, stoking the fire beneath a pot of pitch. A large, empty barrel sits nearby, along with a thick-bristled brush. Rather than return Eunomia's greeting, he focuses on his work.
"Sealing a new rain barrel," the trading post keeper explains, gesturing to his tools. "Need it for all the new mouths."
He rises and brushes his hands, momentarily taking a break from his work. Oleg walks over to the nearby table and retrieves a pair of scroll cases. One is made of cured leather and accented with brass; the other is made of wood and shod with iron.
"A messenger arrived the day before yesterday," Oleg announces brusquely before presenting the two cases to Ahto. "Brought these two. Didn't see fit to stay."
Ahto immediately recognizes the emblem of the Golden Key upon the first message, sure as he recognizes his own name. The second message bears a different insignia, one which Harmond recognizes as belonging to Ioseph Sellemius, the Lord Mayor of Restov.
...
Svetlana selects a quiet moment to sneak over and give Sprocket a pat on the head.
"It's so good to have you all back with us, although I think this fellow could stand a bath," Svetlana says, gesturing to the bulldog. She turns her attention to the new faces, brushes her hands on her apron, and offers a more cordial greeting.
"Svetlana Leveton," she introduces herself with a polite approximation of a curtsy. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Verto. However, I refuse to allow any friends of Lord Ulrych and Miss Prong pay rent within my walls. You will stay as our guests."
She tosses a sidelong glance towards her husband, brushing pitch upon the seams of the new rain barrel.
"The rain barrel's just an excuse, you know?" Svetlana also adds quietly, a charming, conspiratorial tone to her voice. "These past few nights, my Oleg's found any number of projects to work on around the post so he can stay awake and keep watch for your return. He'd never admit it, but he finds your presence comforting. We both do."
...
The first is a legal charter conferring the right to settle the Greenbelt and establish a new nation.
The other documents are instructions from the Swordlords of Rostland and the Lord Mayor, directing you to select and secure a site for a capital so that the first shipment of supplies and laborers can be delivered. They also make it clear that while you will ostensibly be vassals of Brevoy, you will maintain autonomy as you build your town and attract settlers.
...
"Miss Asham is off duty," he replies with a voice lacking the authority he struggles to effect with his poise. "But she is practicing archery by the middens. She has dedicated much of her spare time to this pursuit."
The Vixen pretends not to notice the recoil.
Noting her shouldered bow, she replies, "Then I beat not put me toys away yet. Thank ye, cap'n."
With that, VV heads to the archery range.
"Ye're form's beautiful," she says as she slinks over to her. "Sorry I was away so long. I missed ye."
The Vixen moves close to Ash. "I've much to tell, but all I want to do right now's wrap me limbs around ye, hold ye so close we can feel each other's heartbeats, and see if haven't forgotten how to kiss a girl."
She holds her gently, if Ash allows. "Ye do know ye're the only girl I've ever kissed, don't ye? Maybe I never told ye that. But it's true, our first kiss was my first. Maybe I was afraid to say it before, and I put on that confident face 'cause I can.
"But I don't want to put on a show o' bravado for ye. I've a vulnerable side, and I don't want to hide that from ye."
The Vixen removes her mask, though her persona remains.
Her emerald eyes take in Ash's sweet face. She gives her girl an opportunity to respond with words or accept a kiss that will not disappoint...!
"A pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Leveton. Thank you for the room." Casting a wry glance at Sprocket, she agrees, "I think we could all use a bath, but he is particularly rank. Wonky, do you need any help corralling him into the tub?"
In the meantime, she pulls out her letter to Liberthane. "If there are any messengers heading south into the River Kingdoms, I'd appreciate if they could deliver this letter. They don't have to be going to Liberthane; we have contacts in Mivon that hold mail for us."
Harmonds eyes widen as he sees seal on the letter.
"That's the seal of Ioseph Sellemius, Lord Mayor of Restov. What does it say?"
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Ahto places the scroll from the Church in his pouch, then immediately opens the one from Restov. He reads carefully, making mental note of each statement. He then turns and addresses the group, including Oleg, Svetlana, and Captain Garess.
"We have just received an official Charter," Ahto replies. "We shall be forging this region into a proper nation. Our first order of business is to declare the location and name of our Capital. That location will become a thriving place of commerce, and the point of arrival for all supplies and settlers going forward. I would like to suggest the Capitol be here, and that Master Oleg and Mistress Svetalana be named the first Lord and Lady Mayor, unless there are any objections?"
"That makes sense, given how many people are already here," Eunomia says slowly. "I do have a couple concerns though. First, water. We're far away from any good source of it. Wells are fine for an outpost, but a capital city might need more than wells can produce. Second, defensibility. This place is out in the open. We're right next to Brevoy's border so that might be fine, but it would mean relying heavily on their armies to keep the border safe. Wonky, can I borrow the map?"
Assuming Wonky hands it over, Eunomia studies it for a minute. "I'd actually recommend refurbishing the bandit fort you cleared out. It's right on the Tuskwater which provides both water and some defense from its southern side. Connected to plenty of rivers to make trade with the River Kingdoms easier; a lot of them rely wholly on waterways for their trade connections. The downside is it would be farther away from Brevoy, which would make getting supplies from them trickier until we could build some roads."
She looks up from the map. "Thoughts? I'm not completely against the idea of having the capital here. It would be the most convenient option, at least at first."
Svetlana eagerly accepts the letter from Eunomia for safekeeping.
"The next merchant caravan should be arriving any day now," she says. "It's usually much easier for them to carry messages north and east, but I doubt that they would turn up their nose at a few coins to travel in the other direction."
When talk turns to founding a settlement, Miss Leveton reacts with a start to the very notion of being named any sort of "lady."
"That is very flattering, Lord Ulrych. I suppose you may have to get used to people addressing you as such," she says with a smile. "But...I'm not sure my Oleg will be as enthused by the news. He always found much to grumble about regarding 'city life,' so he may chafe at the idea of suddenly finding a city springing up around him. Of course, being named a master of such a settlement may be more than enough to appease him. All the same, I'm certain he would enjoy serving as a waypoint between a more southerly town and the rest of Rostland."
Headsman Ahto Ulrych,
Jubilations to you, my child. I congratulate you on the strides you have made in the lawless territory known as the Stolen Lands. I've heard individuals among our esteemed peers refer to those untamed reaches as a 'blight upon the providence of civilization.' While I may find such a description perhaps a bit too dramatic, I cannot deny that making those lands safer for the cornerstones of society is a tribute fitting of the First Vault's Master.
You shall soon receive news, if you have not already, of Brevoy's will that the Stolen Lands be settled. The lords of the land have consulted with me personally in regards to this endeavor, both to seek our temple's blessing and to discuss your involvement as our representative.
To speak the naked truth, I suspect that your presence unnerves them. They would likely prefer a more genteel priest or even a taxmaster as representative of the First Vault. Of course, as I dare not speak falsehood beneath the eyes of the Wealthy Father, I also suspect that these nobles squirm in their seats because they are self-conscious of their own transgressions, and they rue having to meet with you. Thus, you have my favor if only because of how you humorously discomfort these petty, petulant lordlings.
Whatever shape this emerging nation may take, I hope that you will shepherd it personally. I hereby empower you to serve as our church's official representative in this matter, to spread the light of civilization into this lingering dark corner of Avistan.
With grace and respect,
Archbanker Adelia Taval
The language is far less formal and impersonal than the communications you are used to, corresponding with your usual contacts in the church. In the letter, the Archbanker - the preeminent Abadaran authority in Brevoy - also suggests that, should you be amenable to the promotion, the title of Justiciar would also be willingly conferred upon you.
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"I would agree with our wise friend Eunomia that the bandit quarters is the more geographically-advantageous position on our discovered map for a capital city. I have to remark, however, at the sheer scope of this development! From lawless netherwoods to nascent nation - we are on the cusp of history, colleagues!"
She thinks a moment.
"Would it be forward of us to name this new endeavour in memory of Horace? We never met him, but..." the gnome trails off without ending her sentence - a rare occurence.
Her muscles go limp as she melts in your grasp, sinking into your embrace with a sigh. She remains nervously mute, yet content to simply enjoy the feeling and let you pitch all the woo for now.
"It's rough keeping up with you," she says, leaving you unsure whether she means romantically or athletically, "But it sure is exciting to try. I'm glad you're back."
As you remove your mask, a smile creeps across her face. Overcome, a bit of moisture wells up within her eyes. She tries to blink it away, but the effect produced is more akin to a fluttering of eyelashes. Ultimately, she closes her eyes, purses her lips, and shyly waits for you to close the distance.
Seeing Ash's eyes well up, her girl longing for her kiss, the Vixen finally understands how important Ash is to her.
Stability.
All is right with the world now. There is only Asham. And that whirlwind of problems spiraling within the Vixen's skull seem to dissipate.
It's not just stabilitythen.
Happiness.
The Vixen gives Ash a hell of a kiss. And to her surprise, there are tears trickling down her cheeks. She doesn't understand it, and doesn't try to. Her mind is only on Asham, and all she wants is to enjoy her.
The need for oxygen means the kiss has to eventually end. When that happens, the Vixen finally responds with words.
"I love ye as y'are, Ash." The Vixen lets that sit a bit before adding, "There's nothing to keep up with. I'm proud to be yer girl, and I don't want our relationship to be vague or discrete.
"I told Ahto while we were out there—told him I love ye—and I also told me new sorceress friend Eunomia. I just know she'd like to meet ye, and if ye've not dined yet, I was hoping ye could join us. Ahto and the others're starting something big—and whatever it is I've gotten meself into, I want ye to be a part of it.
I mean... if it's what you want."
The Vixen doesn't rush Ash. She gently holds her hands, interested in what Ash has to say. If she'd rather stay at the range for a bit, that's fine too.
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Ahto nods, taking in the words of Eunomia and Svetlana about feasibly and location.
”Based on your recommendations, the fort does seem to be the best location to begin the founding of a capital city. However, we have also made significant progress here. Mistress Svetlana, do you believe you and Master Oleg would be content with being Lord and Lady Mayor of what will doubtless become a well-traveled, bustling town that only lacks the title of Capital? For, I would not ask you to pull up your stakes and move to the fort site if you did not wish to do so.”
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Wonky blinks at Eunomia's offer.
"I would be very much pleased to have you join in to bathe my somewhat-malodorous furry friend!" she nods with excitement. "He does not seem to mind a bath, but I am sure that he would do it with more grace if there were more friendly faces about to assist him. Shall we meet in the yard just before the dinner bell?"
Without further discussion, Wonky heads off to her quarters in order to document some of the key discoveries and notes from their most recent journey.
"What about Tamlyn? As a name, I mean." Seeing the blank faces, Eunomia elaborates. "'Tam' is a celestial word meaning 'honest, innocent.' Like Horace...was. While 'lyn' simply means 'lake.'" She flushes. "Although my first dog was named Brownie, so I'm probably not the best person to be suggesting names. At any rate we can think about it more and decide later, once we've had a chance to get everyone's input."