The countryside around Tantervale had reminded her of home. Wide, grassy plains pocketed with short trees, true forests far between. Andor could fly overhead and she could still seem him as a tiny speck far in the distance. No canopies to block her vision. But it was warmer than at home. As she'd gotten away from the city, riding along the banks of the Minanter, she found herself having to stop more often to refill her water skin.
She could have made the ride to Hasmal in a day, but it'd have tired Rabbit out, and she wanted him at least somewhat rested, should she need to set out again quickly. And so, she'd camped one night under the open sky, sleeping easy as she had when she was a child. In the morning, she saddled up once again and watched the landscape grow sparser as she approached the small city at the edge of the Silent Plains.
She was scouting ahead of her fellows, sniffing out to see if the rumors they'd heard had any truth to them. Hasmal had been known, years ago, as a first stop for refugees seeking freedom from the Tevinter Imperium. When they'd raised their barrier, the refugees had naturally stopped coming. But now, the barrier was down again and slaves resumed risking all for a taste of freedom. Many helped these people, bringing them further into the Marches, or helping them seek passage to other lands. But there were also those who sought to exploit the vulnerable.
The Countess of Tantervale, fiercely religious even by the city's high standards, saw helping the refugees fleeing Tevinter as a sort of personal holy mission. She had put out the call for any who might aid in the rooting out and capturing of the brigands who preyed on the caravans coming into the Free Marches. But there was little real news of what who these naves were, their strength, or from whence they struck. And so Ceren had come ahead to sniff out if this was a job worth taking.
Hasmal was a bustling, dusty place, and the sun overhead did no favors. Ceren rode through the city until she reached the northwestern edge. The Withered Oak had been referred to her when she'd asked about the refugee caravans. It was a place often frequented by those who assisted, and those who'd made it across the plains. After settling Rabbit in the stables, Ceren made her way inside.
At the height of the day, it was not particularly busy. She was thankful for that. Moving across the large main room, Ceren settled herself onto a stool at the bar. The bar, the furniture, the walls, were all worn wood. There was a distinct impression that the place had been well maintained, fallen on hard times, but that it was turning around once more. Made sense, with the barrier's fall allowing for people to pass through once again. Refugees, it seemed, were good for business.
"Ale?" The bartender's face was as worn and weathered as the furnishings and his voice was as coarse as sand. Ceren nodded.
"Room and a bath too." she added, dropping a number of coins into his hand after he set a mug down in front of her. The bartender gave an agreeable grunt and moved off to talk to one of his employees. Ceren sipped the ale, a bit weak but at least it didn't taste foul. Later, once the evening brought the main press of customers, she might be able to find out more about the raids. She didn't particularly look forward to it. Talking to people had always been Caro or Esme's job. But... such was life.
She could have made the ride to Hasmal in a day, but it'd have tired Rabbit out, and she wanted him at least somewhat rested, should she need to set out again quickly. And so, she'd camped one night under the open sky, sleeping easy as she had when she was a child. In the morning, she saddled up once again and watched the landscape grow sparser as she approached the small city at the edge of the Silent Plains.
She was scouting ahead of her fellows, sniffing out to see if the rumors they'd heard had any truth to them. Hasmal had been known, years ago, as a first stop for refugees seeking freedom from the Tevinter Imperium. When they'd raised their barrier, the refugees had naturally stopped coming. But now, the barrier was down again and slaves resumed risking all for a taste of freedom. Many helped these people, bringing them further into the Marches, or helping them seek passage to other lands. But there were also those who sought to exploit the vulnerable.
The Countess of Tantervale, fiercely religious even by the city's high standards, saw helping the refugees fleeing Tevinter as a sort of personal holy mission. She had put out the call for any who might aid in the rooting out and capturing of the brigands who preyed on the caravans coming into the Free Marches. But there was little real news of what who these naves were, their strength, or from whence they struck. And so Ceren had come ahead to sniff out if this was a job worth taking.
Hasmal was a bustling, dusty place, and the sun overhead did no favors. Ceren rode through the city until she reached the northwestern edge. The Withered Oak had been referred to her when she'd asked about the refugee caravans. It was a place often frequented by those who assisted, and those who'd made it across the plains. After settling Rabbit in the stables, Ceren made her way inside.
At the height of the day, it was not particularly busy. She was thankful for that. Moving across the large main room, Ceren settled herself onto a stool at the bar. The bar, the furniture, the walls, were all worn wood. There was a distinct impression that the place had been well maintained, fallen on hard times, but that it was turning around once more. Made sense, with the barrier's fall allowing for people to pass through once again. Refugees, it seemed, were good for business.
"Ale?" The bartender's face was as worn and weathered as the furnishings and his voice was as coarse as sand. Ceren nodded.
"Room and a bath too." she added, dropping a number of coins into his hand after he set a mug down in front of her. The bartender gave an agreeable grunt and moved off to talk to one of his employees. Ceren sipped the ale, a bit weak but at least it didn't taste foul. Later, once the evening brought the main press of customers, she might be able to find out more about the raids. She didn't particularly look forward to it. Talking to people had always been Caro or Esme's job. But... such was life.
08-24-2024, 04:36 PM
