Ducking his head as he approached Caro, Genthus would acknowledge the man's instructions with a single nod. Squinting off at the caravan, he tried to make out the front-most group amongst the ruckus of everyone preparing to leave; mercenaries were typically easy to spot amongst groups like caravaneers, especially if the employers in question had no security of their own. But alas, too much chaos, too many bodies to single out any unique. He'd forfeit the effort after a moment and busy himself with carefully placing down each of Esme's bags in the wagon, stacking them into a small stack. After them would come what remained among Caro's purchases; basic provisions, a few tools and such for the wagon, and much to Genthus's delight, a single cast iron pot ready for a campfire. Once everything was compact enough and secure, he'd toss his own bag in like a ball, letting it clatter in the wagon's corner. Following it would be his battleaxe, which was somehow louder as it banged down into the wood.
And last would Genthus himself, slamming the wagon's back shut with enough force to shake the vehicle. Collapsing behind Caro and Esme's seats, still tall enough to peer out the front of the wagon between them, he'd bang the wood with a fist to confirm the vehicle's readiness. They would begin to trundle just as he got comfortable, a few of the bags rearranged as cushion's for the man's massive back.
Settled, Genthus would put his hands behind his head and close his eyes, dozing as they made way. Hamlets and Kirkwall's adjacent settlements gave way to farms and rural communities, then to fields, and finally began to close in as the trees became denser and more numerous, the caravan's wagons traversing a million shadows thanks to the angled morning sun. Enjoying the occasional warmth of each crossing their ride, Genthus would hum at Esme's question. The lack of a hypothetical in her line of questioning was correct, in his experience; there would be trouble, it was just a matter of when.
"That depends on this caravan's haul, I would say." Opening his eyes and sitting forward, he'd rest an arm between Caro and Esme, peering past their sides at the wagons ahead, squinting again. He could see... "Looks like... some grain, leather, and are those-" Leanin forward, he'd be properly between his compatriots for a moment, hand above his eyes to shade them, before sitting back down. "Aye, spears by the gross. Is this just a war train, Caro, or is there more?"
And last would Genthus himself, slamming the wagon's back shut with enough force to shake the vehicle. Collapsing behind Caro and Esme's seats, still tall enough to peer out the front of the wagon between them, he'd bang the wood with a fist to confirm the vehicle's readiness. They would begin to trundle just as he got comfortable, a few of the bags rearranged as cushion's for the man's massive back.
Settled, Genthus would put his hands behind his head and close his eyes, dozing as they made way. Hamlets and Kirkwall's adjacent settlements gave way to farms and rural communities, then to fields, and finally began to close in as the trees became denser and more numerous, the caravan's wagons traversing a million shadows thanks to the angled morning sun. Enjoying the occasional warmth of each crossing their ride, Genthus would hum at Esme's question. The lack of a hypothetical in her line of questioning was correct, in his experience; there would be trouble, it was just a matter of when.
"That depends on this caravan's haul, I would say." Opening his eyes and sitting forward, he'd rest an arm between Caro and Esme, peering past their sides at the wagons ahead, squinting again. He could see... "Looks like... some grain, leather, and are those-" Leanin forward, he'd be properly between his compatriots for a moment, hand above his eyes to shade them, before sitting back down. "Aye, spears by the gross. Is this just a war train, Caro, or is there more?"
03-24-2024, 11:10 PM
