Chapawee nods, knowing your answer from your expression before your words. "I have responsibilities as well, Wamblee. I think many of us will be very busy indeed to make your Tribe of Peace a reality." A kiss. "But yes, I will wait. You know where to find me - I am heading home to Tall Oaks territory tomorrow. Do not make me wait too long, Wamblee, or perhaps I will come and hunt you." A sharp smile.
Margherita makes enjoyable smalltalk with Iniga for the remainder of their watch. She shares a story of getting Fillipo his clothes back after being robbed by a painted lady.
The snoring forms of the magicians sleep peacefully in the shadow of Amatshe. Like a bear settling down for hibernation, the towering spirit shifts and groans, falling deeper into dark, slow dreams of erosion and tectonics.
Iniga is highly amused by the story and reflects that the mercenary group must be particularly close to share stories such as that among themselves. When morning comes she quickly readies herself to be off.
"I do not intend to make you wait long, Chapawee. Would you like to meet my kin before we depart? Or introduce me to your Ouma?"
Wamblee, Chapawee laughs, a delighted, free sound. "No, Ouma is not ready to meet my, haha, lover yet. My guards are following my cousin right now, who bears a fair resemblance to me, or so I'm told." She looks at you one last time, mischief gleaming in her amber eyes just as when you met her.
"And I will meet your family another time, I promise. For the time being...for the Meet...I want it just to be us." A kiss on the cheek, chaste. "Shared fruits."
And, light-footed, she is gone, smiling in your memory.
Iniga, the grimacing priest seeks you out in the early hours of the morning. "I don't suppose you have any sort of medicine for sour stomach and ulcers on your person, have you? None of the mercenaries thought to bring such, and I ran out of my own supply."
Iniga shakes her head ”I’m sorry, I don’t have any sort of medicine that would assist with ulcers or a stomach ache. Some of the oreads might know of some herbs that might help but other than that I have no idea.”
"Same old story, no help for Grico. No need to apologize, I'm used to it by now."
In a conspiratorial tone of voice, he says, "I have not forgotten what you have taught me about my choices, and being my own el. I am siding with you and against the traitors within the Inquisition. On this you have my word."
"Goodbye, Ms. v'Breda."
Wamblee is left smiling and seeks his kin.
"So we're going back to Branch...for more research. Are we just going to hope really hard that none of us get conscripted into guarding the library forever, like Samen almost did last time?"
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Samen wakes slowly, as if struggling to escape Amatshe's gravitational pull. He says nothing to the other mages. No words could be said, least of all by Samen.
He rejoins his family in time to hear Marianne.
"Nah, if we stuck around the library, it'd be burned out in two weeks. I thought we were going to either Light or the Breathless Valleys to gather more data, but then, Wamblee and Iniga just inspired a revolutionary army, so shouldn't we babysit that?"
Iniga nods her head solemnly ”Your courage Grico is commendable. Don’t lose faith - Volcano watches over us” she reminds him, trying to give the priest a bit of confidence.
”We are still going to the Breathless Valley but we are stopping in Branch along the way. There are certain things to research (such as the gem magic corruption) that we wouldn’t learn much about from the Valley. Regarding the army we inspired - I imagine that will take some time before it’s ready. There is plenty for us to do in the meantime. Lastly, I doubt that I would be called to defend the library. An ifrit that flares up like a bonfire when emotionally charged is not the greatest thing to have defending a library.”
"The army is in good hands. We have broken many of those who were not. The library likewise shall not hold us. Let us depart, since we have much to do."
Samen shrugs. "I guess. Whether built out of anger like the fey intended, or self-righteousness like you've created, Hearth is going to see it as threat and respond, well, pretty much the same way regardless. I give the Oreads a month before they don't remember your stirring speech, and I expect the inquisition won't be so easily convinced."
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"Your negatively is not welcome or helpful Samen" Iniga responds sharply, frowning in his direction. "Its also mostly incorrect. The oreads won't move forward with a war - that was pushed by the corrupted oreads who have been handled. The oreads would have to also go back against public and written promises if they declared war - and if they did that no el is ever going to trust them again. The consequences would be too damaging I think."
"Hearth is a different story and yes, I agree that they will most likely view it as a threat. Fortunately, I have written verification from the oreads themselves which should help smooth things over. Besides, any attack would have to be a unified front by both the Inquisition and the Army - and both sides loathe each other. Fighting the Dark is probably the only thing they can both agree on at the moment and it remains a priority. There would have to be deliberate provocation by the oreads I think, before the ifrits would retaliate."
"If you are still concerned, remember that there is apparently a group of revolutionary oreads active in the middle of the city apparently able to do whatever they like. Hearth has that distraction to occupy them and even then some of the Inquisitors and Efreeti Tango have me to personally worry about. All in all, I think we have time but yes, that's why I intend to return to Health sooner rather than later. If you feel particularly concerned about it we could visit Health before the Breathless Valley but I doubt that would be necessary."
"Samen, the Ifrits have larger problems to deal with the Oreads, and the Oreads are been forced to realise the same. So we can continue to the Breathless Valley via Branch and only have to worry about the Darkspawn. And Fey."
Samen squints sideways at Iniga, as if she were an alien elemental to be studied. "Oh, I don't want to go anywhere near Hearth. We're still wanted for murder in Forge, and I'd wager the army's presence there is sufficient to be a problem for us. I just didn't want you to have the illusion that you'd solved anything. I gather that I've failed and am content to leave you to your naivete. Who knows, maybe thousands of years of bloody history have just come to an end. You have some paper.
Lead on, I guess?"
Iniga’s eyes flare. ”Yet we did solve something - we averted a war. It might have been for a day, a week, a month or a year but it is still an achievement and should be celebrated as such as opposed to moaning about it. I have no idea why you seek to belittle the achievements of your own family Samen - I have met strangers who are more supportive.”
Stepping between Samen and Iniga, Marianne quickly says, "Let's agree that we can try our best to make things better while also tempering our enthusiasm with realism."
As the cousins look away from each other with Marianne in the way, the sylph murmurs, "If we're relying on me to be the peacekeeper, we're in trouble."
Marianne is still distracted by the argument earlier, and she spares only minimal attention to her surroundings.
Wamblee keeps his eyes attentive for threats.
And so you say farewell to the Winter Meet.
Cold, tearing gusts of wind blow from the north. The bare-branched forest surroundings do little to block the frozen, howling curses of the old-throated witch-wind. You begin walking the path to the south, toward Branch.
After a several candles of travel, you hear an el singing in a humming, nasally tenor. You see a lone undine, singing in his native language, droning half-tones strange to the ear. He does not seem to notice you.
As he walks at a steady hiking pace, the snow in front of him flows to each side, leaving dry ground behind. You realize he must be a watersinger.
Samen clears his throat, trying to get his intonations right. He hasn't had much practice speaking Undine to native speakers before, and he hopes not to scare off the stranger.
"Dòng chảy ổn định! Bạn là một con đường dài từ sông, người bạn. Điều gì mang bạn đến miền Bắc?"
As Samen speaks, Wamblee casts his gaze around, to make sure the group has not missed any friends - or foes - of this apparently lone el.
Marianne nudges Wamblee and Iniga. Under her breath, "Two. In the trees, a little ahead to the left and right. Tough to see against the bark."
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Wamblee tries to take a surreptitious glance at the spot that Marianne indicates.
Samen, the pigment-blue undine stops walking for a moment as you approach; the snow stops flowing as well. The el grins widely when you begin speaking his language. In a loud, happy voice, he says, "Hihi! Xin chào! Rất vui được gặp ai đó hát bài hát của tôi! Hihi, dòng sông dài làm lạch, tôi đang được trả tiền để dọn sạch những con đường này sau Cuộc họp mùa đông. Tôi không được sinh ra ở miền Nam."
"Ha ha! Hello! So nice to meet someone who sings my song! Ha ha, long river made creek, I am being paid handsomely to clear these roads after the oread Cold Weather Meeting. I was not born in the south."
The undine looks over his shoulder, and sees Wamblee staring suspiciously up at the trees ahead. "Hihi, nói với pod của bạn đừng lo lắng. Chỉ cần con gái của tôi giữ cho tôi xem. Ông già không an toàn một mình, bạn thấy đấy. Mọi người đều cần một quả để thuộc về, ngay cả trên đất khô. Bạn có bắt không?"
"Ha ha, tell your pod not to worry. Just my daughters keeping watch for me. Old el not safe on his own, you see. Everyone needs a pod to belong to, even on dry land. You catch?"
"Mar, I see them. Look part-oread."
Wamblee tries to assess their body language, whether they're relaxed, aggressive, etc. He keeps his own stance a relatively relaxed one.
Samen looks up at the trees, trying to make out the elles. "He says those are his daughters keeping watch and it's his job to clear out a path after the meet. Seems weird to me to have statically placed watchers for an inherently mobile task, but then, I light myself on fire, so who am I to judge?"
"Ah. They may reposition as they need to but otherwise keep still."
Wamblee speaks towards the walking undine.
"Greetings. Do you speak Common? If not, then Oread or Sedime?"
You hear laughter in the branches at your remarks. The brown color slowly fades from the elen-shapes, leaving two dark teal faces smiling down at you. Without a word, they jump across sturdy branches from tree to tree, as you've seen Marianne do on occasion.
Wamblee, the undine smiles and shakes his head at you. With a heavy accent, he says, "I am here to clear roads."
Looking back to Samen, "Nói với anh ấy tôi không hát bài hát của anh ấy. Con gái tôi làm. Họ rất thông minh."
"Tell him I don't sing his song, please. My daughters do. They are very clever."
"He says he only speaks Undine. His daughters speak common, though."
He turns back to the old el. "Họ đang theo dõi những mối nguy hiểm nào? Chắc chắn cuộc họp sẽ bảo vệ bạn cho một công việc quan trọng như vậy."
"I see. Thank you for informing me Samen and please thank him as well."
Wamblee turns to the undine's daughters and says:
"Greetings. I am Wamblee Firenze. I would know if you have seen or heard of any dangers on this path."
The old undine doesn't bother Iniga that much, but equally she wasn't born yesturday. She keeps a close eye on the undines body language and remarks, before switching her gaze to the daughters.
The grinning undine laughs again. "Hihi! Bạn thật vui tính! Một phần của khoản thanh toán của chúng tôi là do thám trước và tránh nguy hiểm."
""Và ý bạn là gì, những gì nguy hiểm? Đừng nói với tôi một pháp sư mạnh mẽ và một vận động viên chiến thắng lợi ích không biết gì về nguy hiểm! Và một lò sưởi ifrit táo bạo!" His skin crinkles beside his twinkling eyes.
"Ha ha! You are so funny like a trout! Part of our payment is scouting ahead and avoiding danger."
"And what do you mean, what dangers? Don't tell me a powerful magician and a boon-winning athlete know nothing of danger! And a daring ifrit firespeaker!"
The left sister giggles. "Many dangerous things. A wildly tattooed magician," she ticks her fingers, "a stone-skinned monk, a hawkeyed sylphan archer, and..." She lets out a breath, thinking. "Umm, a very impressive ifrit. That was quite a thing you did. Iniga, right?"
Iniga smiles politely at the left sister, far more at easy after she realised the family seemed to be what they say they were. ]"Yes, my name is Iniga. I wouldn't overstate what I did though, it was mostly responding to some strong words said in haste."
Iniga pauses for a moment with a glance at her companions "Did you three need any help with this task?"
The right sister's eyes light up, far more animated than the left. "Oooh! Can you yell fire like Bố can sing the water? Can you show us a fireworks show? I'm Thứ Hai."
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Iniga smirks a little bit in amusement as she siles back. "If you wanted a Fireworks show, all you had to do was ask Thứ Hai".
Iniga steps foward, making sure that there isn't anyone standing in her line of fire. Her skin heats up, tattoos glowing golden once again, before she sends a blast of flame down the pathway, attempting to clear out the snow.