Dawn of the next morning came, along with cold air and thick fog. The sky was still grey as the sun hadn’t risen, and the city had yet to awaken from its deep slumber. It had rained overnight, which left the soil moistened and the trees and flowers replenished.
In an inn known as The Golden Hero, Aneurin, Farah, and Rune slept in their own rooms.
Farah was the first to leave her room, though not the first to wake. Aneurin sat in his room on the edge of his bed, covers flung on the ground, as his eyes scanned his room for the things he needed with him on his journey. A bag was seated on the floor next to him, the contents spilling out. He had all the clothes he needed, just one more outfit and he'd switch between the one he was wearing now and that one. He didn't have to worry about any other supplies. He had his weapons by his side, next to him on the bed; they were large silver claws attached to a long silver chain, with straps at the end of that chain that wrapped around his wrists. The metal on the claws was without any signs of rust or wear, other than the scratches and nicks from over the years of wear and tear. Aneurin obviously had spent a lot of time cleaning and caring for them. They were his weapon of choice, though sitting next to his other side was a plain sword. Aneurin much preferred close combat.
Inspecting the bag, Aneurin was sure he had everything he needed. As soon as he came to the decision, there was a knock on the door and it swung open. Farah appeared in the doorway wearing a white top and skin-hugging pants that breathed easy, allowing for comfortable riding. Over her shoulder she carried her final bag, and strapped to her back was a quiver full of arrows. Her bow was attached to the quiver, secure enough so that it did not budge an inch from its place. She looked at Aneurin with tired eyes.
“Are you ready to go?” Farah entered his room, remaining by the doorway. She leaned against the door frame, and watched as Aneurin leaned over to gather the remainder of his things.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” Aneurin mumbled, his voice cracking from misuse. He cleared his throat and shoved his belongings into the bag and zipped it up, rising definitely. He turned to face Farah, who raised the corner of her mouth and sighed as he strapped his claws into his black leather belt. Aneurin slipped into his forest-green cloak, yet leaving the hood down. “Where’s Rune and Tempest?”
“Meeting us at the stables, as we arranged.” Farah spoke softly, her voice low and airy since she had not woken up too long ago. Aneurin approached her and she turned to leave with her male counterpart by her side. Together they left the bedroom, made for the lobby, and left The Golden Hero, making sure not to disturb anyone else. Little was said as they left the building behind them and made their way through the empty streets to the stable just outside the western gates, where Tempest and Rune were already waiting for them atop their steeds.
Tempest was much more appropriately dressed, both Aneurin and Farah noticed right away. His hair was still worn the same way, though he wore a long-sleeved hooded sweater and sweatpants that indeed gave him warmth in the much colder Euphasian weather. The desert nobleman nodded his head in acknowledgement of his companions, and Rune, who hated the fact that he was being dragged along for reasons he did not agree with, said nothing nor looked at anyone.
“If everyone is ready, we can get going.” Farah approached her horse and attached her bag to the saddle besides her other bags, full of foodstuffs and healing necessities. She softly greeted her horse and hopped on, turning the animal in the direction they were to take off in.
“Let’s not waste any time.” Aneurin agreed, hooking his final bag to the saddle and mounting. No one said anything else as they set off in the same general direction. The village of Carius, as Father Arin had informed them, was a two-day journey to the North East. There was no need for discussion, as the sun had only just begun to rise and it seemed as though it might rain again.
They traveled along a beaten path leading up north, with the intentions of circling past the city’s walls. The grassland bore many trees, and although it was no forest it might as well have been for Tempest. As they passed and shoulder-swiped the low branches hanging off the trees, water on the cupped leaves poured down their cheeks and foreheads as a crisp reminder of the rain that had obviously stopped only just a few hours ago. The group circled the walls of Armastus and turned east, then traveled past unremarkable towns with damp streets and buildings darkened by the water. The world was still asleep, it seemed.
It was only after the sun rose that people began to emerge from their deep slumbers. Yet it wouldn’t be until the afternoon when they began to and fill the streets and trodden dirt paths.
By midday, they were still traveling. The world had awaken, though it had also started raining again. All four members of the party traveled with their hoods pulled over their heads, Farah and Aneurin up front, Tempest behind them, and Rune way in the back. Little conversation was made, save the few comments about the weather and Tempest asking what certain things were. Farah delighted in indulging Tempest with her knowledge, to Aneurin’s pleasure since he would not have to deal with it and it kept the desert-man busy. Naturally Rune served as their translator, though it was obvious he did not wish to be bothered.
By the time night came, the group came to a small city almost halfway between Armastus and Carius that called itself Thuur. Being small, there was no Assassin’s League, or Trader’s Post, to be found. The group instead stayed overnight at a small family owned inn, restocked whatever they needed to be restocked, and they were on the road once more by dawn of the following morning.
The next day of travel it rained all day. Tempest began to grow sick of it, though said nothing. The dense trees and thick greenery had lessened as they travel until the almost woodsy area became a pure grassland, covered with rolling fields of grass but not nearly as thick or dense as the woodsy area Aneurin and Farah knew as home. The deeper into Armastus, and the closer to Carius, the group traveled, the slower the rain got until by night they had come to a small village called Fresda and the rain had stopped entirely. There was no inn in town, since not many travelers stayed there, so they slept that night in a generous family’s home. By the morning, they were gone again before that family had even awoken.
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