71st day of Searing, 120 AoS
The heat of the day worked its way through crevices and cracks with the expertise of a seasoned thief. It stole away any chance of respite it could and instead reminded everyone that this season was called Searing for a reason.
Arlen was all the more aware of it dressed in full leather armour, with his Jastai marked sword on one side and his bow and arrows affixed to the horse’s saddle. The beautiful chestnut stood still, waiting as patiently as Arlen.
Wouldn’t mind a horse like that, he thought, holding the reigns and patting the side of the horse’s neck. Yet, he knew his coin was not going to be spent on this one.
When he spoke to the stablemaster the other day, discussing a hire of a horse, he noticed a grey beauty there which was giving him the eye. The large dark eyes, the way she swayed her head with a challenge… Arlen found himself musing, thinking of the freckles, the mane like ashes and body like speckled silver.
After all, he needed his own horse and that mare captivated him.
“Abandoned,” the stablemaster told him that day. “We’ll probably take her to the horse market next. She is just a nuisance now. Hopefully, we’ll fetch a good price for her despite her attitude.” That was a few days ago and suddenly his work finally had an aim. He had to get the coin before the mare would be taken to the market.
So that’s how he found himself outside in the scorching sun dressed in full armour. He got a mission yesterday for a coin that brought him closer to the target amount to purchase the grey mare.
Gypsy, he thought as he looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes.
He was standing near the farmer’s wagon, his current employer. Arlen was hired for a simple escorting job. The farmer came to Loras for a few days to sell the wares and the surplus of produce. Now with the coin in the purse and some purchase under the tarp, he wanted to travel back to his far removed home safely. The region suffered from the occasional bandit attack where a pitchfork would not cut it.
For the nature of the job, the farmer sure drove a hard bargain during yesterday negotiations.
“Common ain’t the language to strike a deal in.” Arlen remembered the farmer say.
It was either an experienced convoy hired in Common or the farmer’s life on the line if he was targetted. Choices were clear and that was Arlen’s baseline. Ultimately, fear seemed to be stronger than the man’s dislike of Arlen’s lacking Kokalath.
The sun was now tipping to the other side of the arch, marking the start of the afternoon and they were still not leaving. Arlen tugged on the reins of his horse, not yet mounted and approached the farmer who was checking his cart.
“Are we still waiting for someone?” He asked in Common and saw the farmer pull in his cheeks, taking his time to answer.
“Aye,” he said in Kokalath and looked to Arlen as though in a challenge.
Gypsy. The ashen dust of fire, Arlen thought, employing a deadpan expression. He nodded at the farmer in understanding. ‘Yes’ really wasn’t the hardest word to learn.
Arlen was all the more aware of it dressed in full leather armour, with his Jastai marked sword on one side and his bow and arrows affixed to the horse’s saddle. The beautiful chestnut stood still, waiting as patiently as Arlen.
Wouldn’t mind a horse like that, he thought, holding the reigns and patting the side of the horse’s neck. Yet, he knew his coin was not going to be spent on this one.
When he spoke to the stablemaster the other day, discussing a hire of a horse, he noticed a grey beauty there which was giving him the eye. The large dark eyes, the way she swayed her head with a challenge… Arlen found himself musing, thinking of the freckles, the mane like ashes and body like speckled silver.
After all, he needed his own horse and that mare captivated him.
“Abandoned,” the stablemaster told him that day. “We’ll probably take her to the horse market next. She is just a nuisance now. Hopefully, we’ll fetch a good price for her despite her attitude.” That was a few days ago and suddenly his work finally had an aim. He had to get the coin before the mare would be taken to the market.
So that’s how he found himself outside in the scorching sun dressed in full armour. He got a mission yesterday for a coin that brought him closer to the target amount to purchase the grey mare.
Gypsy, he thought as he looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes.
He was standing near the farmer’s wagon, his current employer. Arlen was hired for a simple escorting job. The farmer came to Loras for a few days to sell the wares and the surplus of produce. Now with the coin in the purse and some purchase under the tarp, he wanted to travel back to his far removed home safely. The region suffered from the occasional bandit attack where a pitchfork would not cut it.
For the nature of the job, the farmer sure drove a hard bargain during yesterday negotiations.
“Common ain’t the language to strike a deal in.” Arlen remembered the farmer say.
It was either an experienced convoy hired in Common or the farmer’s life on the line if he was targetted. Choices were clear and that was Arlen’s baseline. Ultimately, fear seemed to be stronger than the man’s dislike of Arlen’s lacking Kokalath.
The sun was now tipping to the other side of the arch, marking the start of the afternoon and they were still not leaving. Arlen tugged on the reins of his horse, not yet mounted and approached the farmer who was checking his cart.
“Are we still waiting for someone?” He asked in Common and saw the farmer pull in his cheeks, taking his time to answer.
“Aye,” he said in Kokalath and looked to Arlen as though in a challenge.
Gypsy. The ashen dust of fire, Arlen thought, employing a deadpan expression. He nodded at the farmer in understanding. ‘Yes’ really wasn’t the hardest word to learn.