Residue of Sorrow

"That may be," Lieutenant Tireur answers Bryn, "or maybe she's just not too interested in it right now. She doesn't exactly read for leisure, you know? I'm sure she's curious, but her mind's set on different matters, I imagine. But you should ask anyway, worst she can say is no, right?"

Bryn never heard of anyone matching Arren's description exactly. I'm not giving any more hints on the matter, but you might want to look at my comment #220 in the private messages chat. Could be helpful, maybe not. (OOC: I also feel obliged, since it was brought up, to mention that the description I gave in the post FairIthilien tagged is purely fictional and most likely doesn't actually work.)

((Perhaps I wasn't clear, but the "two days ago" refers to the time as viewed by the characters three days ahead. In other words, it would seem the second group died only a day after Bryn and Arren found the first group, which would be two days after the first group's demise. Sorry if this came out confusing.))

Bryn finds no bows on the bodies of the second group, only spears/scimitars/daggers/shortswords and a rapier. It might occur to him that if there was anyone with a bow, they would have kept some distance away, maybe, but he finds no other bodies scanning the surroundings. Maybe they escaped, or were never there to begin with. Bryn does find that the bodies still have some coins on them, totalling five gold coins and seventeen silver coins, which is by no means a small sum. They still have waterskins and other equipment one might carry on their person. There's a small bag nearby that may have held some food in the past, but animals have since robbed it of its contents. Bryn finds a few more coins in that bag (counted in the previous sum). 

The people in the cart report nothing strange on the road ahead, but seem alarmed when Bryn and/or Arren mention the bodies and other troubles waiting ahead. They thank the soldiers for the warning before resuming their journey. Bryn learns that the cart is transporting wine and spirits, as well as woollen fabrics. They say they have some stops on the mountain path, but eventually head south to some town in southern Katto Bryn never heard of before.

The troupe members are on their way east at first, to a few cities in eastern Katto, including Tus, but they then plan on heading south to Phoja. "Etana?" One asks when Arren mentions the option. "Nothing to do over there but get lost in the sands. Well, I imagine the far eastern areas of Etanna might be more interested in people like us, but that's one very long journey to make."

If this troupe was ever the kind to also partake in illegal dealings, they know better than to do so in front of Katton soldiers (which, I remind you, also act as peacekeepers/police in Katto. If you wanted to steal, would you steal from a cop of all people?). They don't exactly put up a show for the soldiers, but it seems people for whom entertainment is their life need some action during the evening, and they sing a few pleasant songs from all ends of Dite to the sounds of a lute. Commandant Nattensbarn finds this very distracting, but she doesn't ask them to stop; instead, she just tries her best to ignore the noise.

When asked about other travellers, the troupe members say they only arrived here a little before the soldiers, so they don't know. They say they've passed other travellers, but didn't pay them any attention. The inn's owners, meanwhile, admit the place has been awfully empty recently. "Well, not entirely empty," says the expecting father, "but I think it was about two-thirds of the usual number for this time of the year. Is it the cold? Maybe I don't feel it as much between these walls, but it doesn't feel like it's any colder than usual. We're close to the centre of the mountain path; there are usually plenty of guests here."

When asked about those they did see, the man thinks for a bit. "Well, you four, and the lively group you see over there," he gestures towards the man with the lute. "Last night we had a small cart of four. Didn't talk much, but they weren't unpleasant. The night before that..." he struggles to remember. "I think there was another cart, headed to Pyorre? I'm sorry, people come and go all the time, I can't remember them all. Oh! But there was also a woman, didn't talk, just paid and ate, then went to sleep. But she was wearing some very fine garbs, seemed really out of place. Travelled alone, I think."

"Allow me to remind you that everything I know is only as much as the people who informed me knew, when we last visited Pyorre," Commandant Nattensbarn answers. "I know it hasn't been as long as it usually is, but it was still a while ago, and not much was known other than the fact that the Levickans want him for some reason. I think I told you more or less everything I knew. I didn't hear about any armoured men travelling with him, but there's no reason there couldn't be. I can ask when we reach Pyorre, but whether or not that would even be of interest to us... The Lieutenant's suggestion from before lies on foundations which I believe are false. I highly doubt we'll be sent on a futile chase after a single man. We're not exactly known for our prowess as trackers."

She pauses for long enough that Arren might think she's done talking, before she mutters: "Though maybe that could be a 'vacation' as you all always implore me to take." Since Arren doesn't really implore her to take any kind of vacation, except perhaps a few nights of good sleep, he believes this last part might not have been directed at him.

"You make a good point. I will speak with her at some point, maybe the next time we find lodging", Bryn replies to the Lieutenant. "Do you know how many days are left until we reach Pyorre now?", he asks, obviously working out how many days he has left to approach the Commandant before they arrive.

 "Of course it is possible that Radis has some High Elf ancestry, but enough for it to be the source of his magic but not show physical signs", Bryn muses skeptically. "That is the point though, what do any of us know? There are theories but no actual facts. I am not a High born elf, and yet I developed some magical talent before I became a teenager. I suppose that is the source of fascination with this subject. Where do my abilities come from", he says with a frown of frustration.

"As for Emma and Hector, I admit the memory loss is more than likely intentional. But the aggression in Hector and the physical transformation and aggression in Emma, surely that was not intended. Unless this Breithe is a sadistic insane. And the letter promising to rectify the situation, that wouldn't make sense if it was intentional".

He listens as the Sergeant description of a person, thinking for a moment before asking, "Too tall to be among smaller races, that precludes them quite easily, if we are thinking about statistic possibility. The cinnamon skin seems to rule out humans, but are you sure it is not possible they were an elf? I assume other features did not align, such as their ears were rounded. Where did you see this person? Oh, was it one of your dreams? Did the watchful presence finally take a form?".

As the Sergeant explains about speaking to walnuts and the lucid dream, he stays quiet absorbing the information and mulling it over for a minute, before responding. "Intriguing. I would suggest your subconscious was merely reacting to the events prior to the dream, those within the cave. We assume Gaitha was the one who left the guardians of plant and stone, and the description you gave could easily be approximated to what the earth goddess might look like given mortal form. And her dislike of dragons was evident within the cave. The scale would have been foremost in your mind before drifting off, assuming you examined it just prior to sleep. It becomes a little harder to believe it was just a dream when you learned about its capacity to float and it turned out to be real. Of course, I expect you have had all these thoughts as well, which is why you are asking me about it".

He thinks for another moment, "Was there anything about the person within the dream that would suggest they were anything other than a mortal person? I don't really know exactly what, perhaps their hair seemed to float unnaturally, or their eyes unusually bright or deep? You mentioned they were angry about the dragon scale, what exactly did they say? I wonder why they would show you how to use it if they were unhappy you took it. You also said it was a lucid dream. Within the dream, did you get the feeling she was an intruder?". He seems intrigued and although not convinced this was anything other than a dream, he is certainly open to the possibility.

I should pay more attention to the Sergeant's sleep. Last time, he remained unnaturally still when he mentioned the feeling. Perhaps if I notice that again, I can check for any magical interference.

Bryn takes a couple of daggers if they seem of good quality, and the coins from the bodies. The dead won't need them.

He is still quite confused as to who the bodies belonged to, because they are little too well armed and funded to be bandits, and yet they hadn't ben robbed.

"What circumstance caused them to get in a fight they couldn't win? Were they just set upon? They really don't seem like bandits", he asks out loud, in case one of the soldiers had some idea.

When the father to be it the "Mountain Inn" speaks of it being quiet, Bryn decides not to mention anything about the bandits kidnapping travellers. It would just lead to more questions.

"The lady in the fine clothes, do you happen to remember which night she stayed, and which direction she was heading? You said you think she travelled alone. I assume no-one stayed here with her, so what made you unsure?", he asks idly, trying not to come across as too interested, but more just making conversation.

(OOC: Yes, that did make sense about the timeline, my bad for not paying enough attention. I have altered my previous post to mention that whoever was killing folk was travelling faster and therefore unlikely to cross paths) 

"Well… she did disperse into leaves, blown away by the wind. Other than that…" Arren tries to recall. "She said I had ruined her year by summoning that dream. That what I did could not be undone, and that the road ahead of me would be a thorny one. She mentioned her scheming sister as well."

He pauses, then exhales slowly. "You see, that wasn't the first strange woman to intrude on my dreams. Before that, there was another — one who didn't show herself. She only spoke to me, in a soft, honeyed voice. She wasn't angry. Mocking, more like."

Arren's brow furrows as he continues. "That dream was a dark one. It came right after we encountered the first group of bandits. One of them cursed me out of spite, for working with the Meyen, if you remember. I suppose that found its way into my sleep. This voice spoke of the fighting outside, and mentioned a ‘she’ who was struggling. I never figured out who she meant."

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to piece it all together. "The thing is, that voice said that if I ever wanted to speak to her again, I should summon a better dream. A more pleasant one. Flowers. A bed of grass. All of that." He lets out a short, humorless breath. "And I did. And that's when the cinnamon-skinned, yellow-haired, extremely angry woman appeared."

Arren shrugs. "I don't know. It's probably better if I don't try that again." After a moment, he adds more quietly, "Though I'll admit, it was amazing. Feeling my physical body resting in the tent, while I was somewhere else entirely."

"I've been on this path no more times than you have," Lieutenant Tireur answers Bryn's question, offering no more insight about the journey's expected length.

The daggers on the bodies aren't in great condition, and look like they were pretty cheap to begin with. The same goes for the rest of the weapons. But, one way or another, a sharp piece of metal can do a lot in the right hands.

"Maybe they underestimated their opponent," Lieutenant Tireur suggests from the back of the carriage. "The bandits who ambushed us first a few nights ago weren't any match either, but they thought they had the numbers' advantage."

"The night before last," the innkeeper answers Bryn's question about the traveller in fine clothes. "That is, two nights ago. But really, she didn't speak at all and, apart from her odd garbs, didn't attract much attention. I don't know anything beyond that. Why, she someone you know?"

"Two entities who are sisters both invading your dreams. I am really at a loss. Dreams obviously don't follow the normal rules of reality, so I guess none of what you have said is truly out of the ordinary in the realm of dreams. I do believe you though, that there is something more here. It could even be that the two visitors are the same person just messing with you. I guess there is nothing to do right now but wait and see if it does happen again", Bryn says to the Sergeant with a defeated shrug. "There is nothing to suggest they can harm you, right? I can be present while you sleep perhaps. There might be some magical residue of whatever is happening that I can perceive if I notice something amiss. It is up to you".

Bryn nods in response to the Lieutenant, "That is a fair point, the bandits in these parts have not exhibited the best judgement from what we have witnessed so far". He drops the subject after that.

Bryn shakes his head when asked about the lady being someone he knows, "No, I was just curious. The road has been quiet, as you say, and I was merely wondering who we might come across. It is a shame she passed through so long ago, she might have welcomed the company of some Katton soldiers if she was alone".

Hoping to make the most of the good mood the Commandant will hopefully be in following a night inside and two hot meals, Bryn will approach her after breakfast before they set off. Not when she is alone of course, one of the others will be around as well, if not both.

"I know we are in a hurry, and so now is likely not the best time, but I wanted to remind you that I can help in more ways than I did when I was masquerading as a soldier. Think on it, and perhaps we can talk a little when we stop for lunch", he says diplomatically, giving her a couple of seconds to speak before leaving her be.

(OOC: He will not bother with the daggers then. I assumed they were better quality weapons but if it is just that they are better armed in terms of weapon count it is not worth it. Thanks for clarifying.

Also, I assumed Bryn didn't overhear the conversation between the Sergeant and the Commandant, but if he did let me know, please) 

"I'd be grateful," Arren answers to Bryn’s offer to watch over his dreams again. "I suppose I could try entering a lucid dream once more, and see what happens. They didn't seem harmful. The first felt more like she was amusing herself at my expense. And the second…" He exhales quietly. "She claimed she would never appear again."

If he manages to slip into that half-waking state one of these nights, he chooses a landscape entirely different from the ones before. This dream is not meant for any of his visitors. This one is for himself.

He imagines the desert at sunset. The air is warm,  and a soft wind moves across the dunes, carving patterns into the sand before erasing them again. Tiny grains lift and swirl, catching the last light of the sinking sun, glimmering as though they were gold.

In the dream, he feels as light as those grains. The wind carries him without purpose or destination. And for once, that lack of direction does not trouble him at all.

Arren is genuinely surprised to hear the Commandant speak of vacations. Frankly, he'd never imagined her using that word at all. Of course, whatever she meant by it would likely be very different from what most people considered a vacation.

"Vacations every once in a while, that doesn't sound half bad," he says quietly.

(ooc: I wouldn't mind Bryn listening to that conversation. Arren did speak to him about the armored man after all.)

((The inn isn't very large, so unless Arren intentionally seeks a moment when Bryn isn't around, I imagine Bryn can overhear him.

Arren won't be able to lucid dream on command just yet (you'll make your DM jealous), but if he tries often enough, I suppose he'll get it right on one of the nights on the way. Since the talk between Bryn and Arren happened during the first night following the bandit camp, I suppose Arren could land it on his third attempt, which would be the night in the inn.))

Arren gets to enjoy his second (or perhaps third?) lucid dream in peace, as nobody intrudes on his dream. However, soon after he wakes up, the memory of the dream fades, and Arren can recall only very few details. 

Commandant Nattensbarn barely spends time eating in the morning before hurrying to ready the horses for the day's travel. Bryn can talk to her while she's doing that, though, and while he immediately recognises that she would have preferred not to be disturbed, she still answers him briefly. "I'll think about it."

At lunch - while the men eat, anyway - she sits with them but doesn't touch an unopened ration. At some point, Bryn might notice she's looking at him, waiting for his attention. "I think my preconceptions about magic, your magic, at least, have been wrong," she states once he meets her eyes. "Please, enlighten me. Not with a demonstration," she quickly rectifies, "just tell me. What can you do, exactly? And, if you don't mind, how you learnt to do it. Just how often was translating dead languages relevant in your life before?"

Beyond interactions between the crew, nothing extraordinary happens during the next few days. The weather stays mostly pleasant, albeit cold. As they head farther west and closer to Pyorre, although still on the mountain path for the time being, they'll see more and more travellers on the road. Some come from the west, while some, on swift horses, overtake them from behind. There are carts, riders and even some who walk on foot. Messengers, merchants and all sorts of people whose lives drove them, for one reason or another, to be on the road. Even soldiers, once, a small company of a dozen soldiers who ride to make sure everything is peaceful in the mountains. If asked, they'll have seen nothing extraordinary so far, but the Commandant makes sure to inform the company's commander about most of what her crew encountered on the road.

Inns appear more frequently too. No longer once in two-three days of riding, but almost every night. The inns are larger, but that is justified by an increased number of guests in each. It seems the path is walked by plenty the closer one gets to Pyorre. 

Ever since the second group, there have been no signs of violence on the road. Neither casual bandits nor the mysterious killer.

((I'm being intentionally vague here because I know I wrote how long the route is before but I didn't make a note of it so I don't want to lose consistency. If you bother searching for it, then the time should make sense according to that (I roughly remember six or ten days, but maybe I'm wrong). If there's anything you want to do during this timespan, including the conclusion of anything that happened so far, I'll give you time for that. Once we're done with that, we'll finally leave the mountain path behind. You can also describe a more "routine" behaviour for your character, if you want, for these few days. I won't progress past this point before I'm sure we're done with everything else, though, since I don't want to stretch us across too many days. So let me know when you're ready.))

Listening to the response the Commandant gives the Sergeant about the information she has makes Bryn wonder exactly when the last time she was in Pyorre. And exactly how her role works, travelling across the length and breadth of Katto. What did the Sergeant call her when they first met? The quality control expert of the Katton army. And didn't the Sergeant mention a messenger being sent to instruct her to go to Tus? Her itinerary must be set well in advance for a messenger to know where to find her. No wonder delays and unexpected instructions cause her irritation.

When she calls the search for Breithe Staidear a futile chase, and highly unlikely it was the reason for her summons, that gives him pause as well. If this isn't about Breithe, or at least Emma who links back to Breithe, then exactly how do I fit in here?

He keeps all these thoughts to himself for now, waiting for a good time to address them.

After the Sergeant requested his help watching his sleep, Bryn makes sure to spend at least a portion of each night in the tent during the Sergeant's rest before he himself trances. The first time he had been asked to watch him, he noticed he was unusually still, and so he uses that as one sign something might be going on related to lucid dreams. Of course, if there is any unusual movement, of limbs or even eyes, he will also take that as a cue. In the event of any of these, he will look for any magical residue or auras around the Sergeant.

Bryn is a little surprised when he notices the Commandant's attention on him, but sets down his rations to give her his full attention.

"A sensible question", he says and thinks for a moment about where to start. "Firstly, it is worth noting that in my experience for most people magic is simply a tool they use to make tasks simpler, easier or quicker. Much like any tool really, they are developed with particular tasks in mind. I am referring to the basics here, like the ability to start a fire, or extinguish one with nothing but a word and a wave of the hand. Someone who had never seen a tinderbox used to start a fire would be pretty impressed, but it's just a tool they haven't seen before, right?".

"Oh, I will grant you that there are some who make magic their vocation, with its study and learning to become more powerful in its use being the main focus of their lives. I am not counted among their number, I don't have quite that much patience or thirst for knowledge. Of course there are also powerful sorcerers, and those whose powers derive from faith, the miracle workers. And the druids of course. I am really not qualified to speak of those. In Levicka you can spend a lifetime reading studies on these things, but it is all just pontification and conjecture. There might be some who truly understand, but that knowledge is not widely shared, even in academic circles".

"So, getting back to myself. I developed the capability to manipulate the basics of magic as a child, just before my teenage years. In Levicka this is common among those of the purest bloodlines, the true High Elves. That is not to say it doesn't happen for others, but that is really quite rare. My family are not counted amongst those high born, and no-one else I am related to has any magical prowess, so I truly do not know where this power comes from in me. Believe me, I am eager to know that myself, which is a search that has informed the direction of my life to a large extent. But that is another subject I guess", he says and pauses for a breath, and to take a sip of water.

"Anyway, as to what I can do, which is likely what you really want to know. There are two aspects to that, the things I can do easily, all day long. And those abilities that take more focus and are more taxing. Those that I spent significant time learning to do. Of the former, I can manipulate light objects with my mind, as you saw in the cave with the pool of plant fish. I can speak to someone privately, no matter who else is present. That is how I was able to communicate with Emma when she had transformed, and is the only reason I survived when she was about to attack you and I stepped in the way, Commandant. I can also conjure simple illusions. And I can turn my hand to other simple feats of magic as the need arises, but that requires more focus during my trance and each ability comes at the expense of the last. In fact, I am still learning the true extent of that. For example, I had not attempted to control water before I needed to dry my boots", he says thoughtfully, for a brief moment wondering what else he could learn, and if it was truly just limited by his imagination.

"And then we come to those more taxing abilities, the ones that I spent time learning throughout my life due to interest or necessity. I believe the spark of magic has to be in you to be able to expand your repertoire, but I am no professor so I might be wrong. Anyway, firstly is my ability to see magical auras and residue, you know of that. I believe you also saw me use magic to disguise myself in the bandit camp, Commandant. With a little effort I can also conjure up larger visual illusions. You can infer what you will about why illusions are a particular focus of mine", he says with a slight sheepish grin. "Survival and necessity is a great teacher, Commandant. Better than any professor I met in Levicka".

"As for reading dead languages, amongst other things, I really am a pretty competent student as well as a trained scribe. I learned during my brief stay at the Levickan Magical Academy, that in order to be able read those texts that were beyond my natural capacity, I needed to somehow translate them. It takes a little time, but I am able to translate any written language by touch".

He stops here, thinking for a moment whether there might be more, but instead remaining silent and open to questions the Commandant might have. She was a patient listener, and he assumes she has held on to a number of thoughts during what became a little bit of a lecture.  

Arren might not remember the details of his dream, but he is certain that nobody intruded, and that alone brings him relief. He's beginning to grow quite fond of these dreams, and intends to return to them every once in a while. Perhaps not every day—there will be days when he's too tired and falls asleep too quickly—but he wants to keep reaching those impossible places, those quiet escapes that help him unwind after the events of the day.

He asks Bryn whether he noticed anything strange during the night. If he didn't, Arren simply lets the matter drop.

As for the trail of dead bodies, he's glad they haven't come across any more. Still, the ones they did find linger at the back of his mind. Does it mean the killer went another way? Or simply that they stopped attacking people—or perhaps the other way round? If the attackers were bandits and they're drawing closer to civilisation, perhaps it makes sense that the attacks have diminished. Even so, Arren can't quite shake the concern that whoever did this may already have reached Pyorre.

For the remainder of the journey, Arren doesn't do anything out of the ordinary. He trains a bit more with Aegis, and occasionally picks up his longbow to practice if he can find a tree trunk or anything else that might serve as a target. Even if the bow isn't one of his favoured weapons, he finds that practising with it brings him a sense of peace and focus. The silence. The release of the arrow. The thud as it reaches its target.

He doesn't forget the cooking tips Emma gave him, and so, if there's any chance to hunt small game along the way—rabbits or the like—he'll try to do so and cook it with the few ingredients he has. Once they reach Pyorre, he hopes to buy more supplies, especially those that last longer. He also wonders if he might be able to purchase a few traps to set during nights spent in the open.

Arren listens with interest to the conversations about magic between Bryn and the Commandant. He isn't frightened by it the way she seems to be, and they certainly sound like a useful skills to have around. He does let out a quiet breath when Bryn mentions the way he secretly communicated with Emma, feeling a bit foolish that all of that happened right under his nose without him suspecting a thing. Though, in truth, how could he have?

After a few more days of travel, assuming Bryn is still addressing him as Sergeant, Arren looks at him and says, "You can call me by my name, if you wish. You're not a soldier and don't need to adhere to our etiquette. At least with me."

He doesn't say it out loud, but he almost hopes Bryn will take him up on it. It would feel like a small breath of fresh air, something less rigid, a little closer to how everyone else lives. The only time he's felt something a bit similar to that is when Walnuts calls him Sand—and that, sadly, won't last much longer.

Bryn sees nothing out of the ordinary in Arren's sleep, even on the third night, in the inn, when Arren experiences a lucid dream.

The Commandant, truly a patient listener, seems to lose all her patience the moment she realises Bryn is finished. "Thank you for sharing that," she says as she stands up, "but we must be on our way now. I'll think about your offer, maybe I can spare some time for that." 

In the evening of the same day, however, Commandant Nattensbarn asks to stop a little before sundown. After setting up her small tent, she takes her desk and stool out, as usual, but instead of placing a stack of papers on it as usual, she brings out of the carriage a single clean sheet, an inkwell and a simple quill, as well as a rectangular object wrapped with some cloth. She sets the stool by the desk, but stands on the opposite side. "Come, please," she calls, looking at Bryn. "While there's still light outside." Bryn might notice she has not lit her lantern yet.

Once/if Bryn approaches, she'll uncover the book from the cloth she used to wrap it with, such that it faces the stool, as do the clean paper and the tools for writing. "I don't want you to translate the entire thing, of course. I don't have the time for that, and honestly, not the need either. There are skilled hands that will work on that issue once we deliver the book, in Pyorre. But until then, why don't you show me how you translate the couple of pages? Oh, and please, write it down. My hand hurts after writing all day on an unsteady carriage." She clenches and relaxes her writing hand a few times to emphasise. 

Bryn explains to the Sergeant that there he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary with his sleep.

"I guess if you weren't visited, that is not exactly conclusive though".

In the evening when the Commandant sets out her desk for him to work at, he obediently sits down. He is concerned about her lack of urgency with the translation though. Once we get to Pyorre I will likely lose the chance to know the rest of the books contents. And is she really unable to continue, or is this a test as well?

"Very well, although I will remind you that I have an interest in the contents of the book as well. I admit it is yours, and I offered to help translate, but there was an element of the selfish in that. I am sure you worked that out anyway. I expect I don't have to remind you that my vision is better in the dark, and I also don't need as much rest than even the little you take, as well. But I do see it from your point of view. A few pages translated by me will make the work of those in Pyorre infinitely easier, having that ready made cipher", he says, knowing that all he can do is appeal to her good favour here, or break his word.

With that said, he reaches into his pouch and withdraws some soot and salt, which he cradles in one palm. He then reaches out his other hand and lightly touches the first page with his fingertips. He is ever so delicate in this, knowing the age and state of the book.

With a few words of magic, he uses his magical resources to be able to understand the writing, not wasting time on the ritual. He does not stop speaking the words of magic, repeating them for ten minutes before he stops and puts the soot and salt back in his pouch. After all, I told her before it takes time, which is how I normally use this ability anyway.

During that ten minutes, he reads the contents on the visible pages. Unless he deems the contents unsafe to allow the Meyens to know, he picks up the quill, dipping it into the inkwell and beginning to write the genuine contents.

When the Sergeant suggests he call him Arren, Bryn smiles.

"You know, that might seem a simple thing to suggest, but it means a lot to me, Arren", he replies sincerely. "I hope that is an indication that there is at least a slightly better feeling towards me now", he adds with a hopeful smile.

(OOC: There is likely not much he that would make him not translate the page, but I am keeping my options open here :-) )

Arren smiles as well.

"It meant a lot, too, when you shared your real name," he says. "So I thought we should be on the same level."

He remembers Bryn mentioning how ordered around he had felt, how ever-present the rank had been when he impersonated Corporal Peite. Using their names feels like a small way to move past that.

"It's… refreshing, you know?" Arren adds. "To be called by my name. It happens so rarely that it almost feels strange to hear it."

At Bryn's hopeful comment, Arren nods. "I want to make this work."

As Bryn begins to use his skill to translate the book, Arren watches with quiet curiosity, following the way he works the spell. Is that… salt?

He blinks, surprised. His ignorance regarding magic had led him to expect something entirely different. Bat wings, perhaps. Powdered bone. Frog legs. He's glad he didn't voice that thought aloud, since it would have made him feel like a fool.

((Does Bryn write the translation down simultaneously with reading it, or does he wait until after he finishes reading before copying it down? If the latter, does he go over the text twice (part of the time just reading, then the rest to write it down), or does he read as much as he can during those ten minutes before trying to translate what he remembers? Does he repeat the words aloud as he reads/writes? All that, assuming he chooses to translate, of course.))

If Bryn translates anything, please make a check using Bryn's proficiency bonus for Calligrapher's Tools (no ability modifier). If Bryn tries to write from memory only after the spell ended, make an Intelligence check too.

Regardless of whether he translates or how he does it, Bryn will read the following:

The Nurturer

Attend, O Nurturer, for theduty thou now bearest shall not be taken lightly. Not composed to command, nor to tame, but to remind, this script shall guide thee in this endeavour. If read with arrogance, the page will lie to you. If you read with reverence, it will teach.

Know first the Hour of Emergence. When the shell is unbroken, do not call it empty. When it shivers, do not call it weak. The Breath Within listens long before it sees. Place thine hands upon the stone and still thy pulse, for the one who wakes must learn the rhythm of the world. Many failed at this first mercy and blamed fate for the smoke that followed.

Prepare the Circle not for containment, but for welcome. Fire must be present, yet unafraid of itself: embers banked low, ash sifted fine, flame that knows how to bow. Water must be near, untouched by metal. Air must move freely, for stagnation insults the Luminous Blood. Earth alone may bear weight; lift not what has chosen to rise. When the shell parts, avert thine eyes - not from fear, but from courtesy. Divinity, newly arrived, is unclothed.

Speak no names. Names are earned, not assigned. In the first turning of days, the Bright One will answer only to tone and intent. Thou shalt not commune with hunger, nor thirst of any form. Thine offer shall be remembered when thy bones are dust.

On Sustenance and the Law of Giving

Mistaking duty for ownership shall be thy last blunder. The Young Flame feeds often, but never mindlessly. Flesh offered without acknowledgment dulls the spirit; flesh given with gratitude sharpens it. Before the meal, place thy palm upon the chest and recall one truth you would defend with your life. The Luminous Blood drinks this remembrance as readily as marrow.

Never overfill the fire within. Excess breeds impatience, and impatience breeds ruin. Nurturer whose wish to hasten growth will be answered with wings too vast for his hall, and hunger too deep for his lands. The fault never lies with the Bright One. Refuse the urge to measure progress in size alone. Scales thicken before wisdom awakens; claws harden before judgment tempers them. This is the order of things, and to reverse it is to invite catastrophe.

On Posture, Presence, and the Shape of Obedience

Do not demand submission. The Luminous Blood recognizes alignment, not dominance.

Stand neither above nor below, but with. When correcting, do not strike - withdraw warmth. When praising, do not touch - offer space. The Bright One learns the boundaries of the world by observing which limits are honored by thee.

There will come a day when the gaze lingers longer than comfort allows. This is not challenge. This is inquiry. Answer it by remaining. If thou cannot endure being seen, thou art unfit to proceed.

The text goes on in a similar manner for as far as Bryn reads. Later pages delve into more detail about each one of the Nurturer's duties. Detailed drawings of animals and plants are added near text that explains their usage, whether ceremonial, for medical uses, or for feeding.

Bryn looks around to the Commandant and the Lieutenant as he speaks to Arren, wondering if they were ok with him using Arren's first name. Perhaps not in all circumstances, but maybe when there are no others present.

"Nice. I expect there will be challenges ahead, but hopefully not insurmountable ones", he says with a measure of positivity.

Bryn will use the first ten minutes of the hour long duration of comprehend languages to read the pages whilst seeming as though ritually casting the spell, as he had previously mentioned it takes time to cast. He wants this to appear as close to usual as he will likely use the ritual method of casting in future.

Once he has scanned through the contents, he will then use the remaining fifty minutes to re-read the pages and then copy down the translated text directly from the ancient tome, so no memorising required.

"Interesting", he will say briefly before starting to write. "It appears to be an instruction manual of some sort, but I will let you read it for yourself".

He will then remain silent during the time it takes until he has finished copying, and also whilst the Commandant finishes reading the translation. If she has been reading over his shoulder, then that shouldn't take too long.

"It is a fascinating concept. I assume considering where we found it, it is meant to be genuine, and not satirical", he says, his eyes locking onto the Commandant to see her reaction.

Calligrapher's Supplies (with just proficiency bonus): 16+2=18

((Right, one hour... not ten minutes. I don't know why I remembered ten minutes. Well, Bryn translates several pages then. There are a lot of details, but the core remains the same.))

Bryn works diligently, copying down the translation as his magic reveals to him the meaning of each written word. The Commandant, clueless when it comes to magic, doesn't question Bryn's methods, even if he turns to the next page after being done with the first. She doesn't interfere, but Bryn is always aware of her standing on the other side of the table, looking at his work. She throws a glance at the sun every minute or so, noting how the day quickly fades into night. She seems impatient at first, seeing how time goes by without any tangible progress, but is more at ease once Bryn starts writing. 

When she sees Bryn near the end of the second side of the first page, Commandant Nattensbarn hurries to get him a few more sheets of paper. Once he finally resumes on the next sheet, and after applying some sand to dry the ink, she immediately reads the translation in the last of the day's light. "So you didn't lie about being a scribe," she states almost immediately after reading his handwriting. 

Commandant Nattensbarn doesn't comment on anything else on the translation before Bryn is finished. Perhaps because she doesn't want to interrupt him, or maybe the text is just too strange to comment on. She doesn't light her lantern even after the sun goes down. If Bryn asks her to light it, she refuses, explaining that she doesn't want to bring fire anywhere near the book, even if the lantern is, supposedly, a protected flame. Reading isn't an issue for Bryn since he only needs to touch the text, but writing is a little more difficult without proper lighting. Nevertheless, and despite not writing anything for a lengthy period, Bryn's work is fast, and the quality of the work is about as high as can be expected of the situation. The Commandant only reads about one page before the light is too dim for her, but she doesn't stop Bryn's work, nor does she leave the side of the desk.

Once Bryn is done, Commandant Nattensbarn takes the book away, wrapping it again before storing it, along with the translation, back inside the carriage. Then, she lights her lantern and, under its light, brings out the work she had pushed aside for the translation's sake. She doesn't ignore Bryn's statement, though, answering him as she walks to the carriage and back. "I'd have called you crazy any day before seeing that place," she states, "though the sanity of the writer remains questioned. Does it continue in the same manner after the first part?" She gives Bryn a moment to answer. By the time he finishes, or if he doesn't answer, she'll have come back with her work material. "Thank you for the work," she sounds genuinely grateful, "but now, if you will, I have plenty of work to do myself. Perhaps tell the other two what you read. I can see the Lieutenant is dying to know already."

Lieutenant Tireur, meanwhile, used this chance to start trancing already, sitting outside with his back against a large rock in a spot where he can see the entire camp. He looks rather serene, but as trancing Elves are, he's well aware of everything happening around him.

Bryn ignores the Commandant's comment about not lying, so focussed is he on the task at hand. He finds that muscle memory takes over, and all the time that has passed since he last used a quill melt away. There is something comforting about writing, I could almost be back home, before all this started.

When he is finally done for the evening, he sits back relaxing his back, which ached a little. That portion of the task seemed to have been effected by the length of time since he last performed it.

"All I managed to read followed along a similar vein, yes. To need such a manual is verging on miraculous. It appears time has stripped much away from the realm if it is not madness", he says thoughtfully.

"You are welcome", he replies simply to her thanks, and allows her to go about her business, heading back to the Lieutenant and Arren.

"I won't tease you by making you guess what the book is about, because we would be here all night and beyond", he says with a chuckle, although the others can see his eyes are wide with amazement, not humour. "It turns out it is a manual to be used in the nurturing of something....I want to say divine. Perhaps draconic in nature, but it speaks of reverence. It mentions a stone egg and a hatching process that it calls the 'Hour of Emergence'. It names the emerging one as 'Luminous Blood', 'Young Flame' and also 'Bright One' throughout. Whatever it is, the text warns that when it grows to adulthood it will have wings too vast for a hall and hunger too deep for the land".

"If I didn't know that such eggs were no longer present in these lands, I would be very concerned, I can tell you that", he says, some obvious trepidation mixing with his amazement as he speaks the words out loud.

He looks to Arren and the Lieutenant, to see their reactions.

At first, Arren has the look of someone thinking Nurturing something divine? That sounds like a manual written by a madman, and he seems on the verge of joking along with Bryn.

Then his expression changes, replaced by one of concern.

"But… we did find a rounded stone," he says slowly. "Almost spherical. Not entirely so."

He raises a hand to his forehead, pressing his fingers there for a moment as he thinks, then looks back up.

"Please tell me we didn't stumble across a stash with all the pieces needed for some insane ritual, and that the bandits kept with half of it." His tone tightens. "What did those pages say, exactly? Did they mention other items? Anything that could match what they—or we—took?"

He curses, then exhales sharply.

"…No wonder she was so angry."

Bryn's eyes widen as Arren points out the obvious, that the Lieutenant's prize from the excavation could well be the very egg he had assumed lost to legend.

"It never occurred to me, but you are right", he says looking to the Lieutenant, to see if he is stirring from his trance. He knows the Lieutenant heard what was said.

He thinks back to the writing, "No, none of the items we found match what was written. It was more about arranging the natural elements and the method than actual items like those".

Had the Commandant made the connection? Was that why she thought the Lieutenant was dying to know what they learned? What would she do with this knowledge? Would she allow the egg to be simply taken back to Mey by the Lieutenant? Would she want to attempt the Nurturing herself, or allow those she was taking the book back to, to do so? 

Bryn didn't read the entire book yet, but none of what he read specified any of the items by name (not that Bryn knows their names, if they even have any), nor were any of them illustrated as many animals and plants were. Running water, embers or any of the other things that were mentioned weren't illustrated either, though, not even the "shell" that is mentioned. Perhaps the writer(s?) thought these were obvious enough.

"I hope not," the Lieutenant says. He speaks and acts slowly, trying not to break his trance while also stretching its limits as much as he can. Reaching into his pocket, he draws the carriage's storage space key and lays it in front of him. "Else I doubt I'll be able to take it with me. And I thought at least a rock would be a keepsake nobody would object to. Go, bring it here. It should be among my things." He doesn't speak to either Arren or Bryn in particular. "Though I wonder, if it was... some kind of egg... could it still hatch after so many years?"

If anyone goes to fetch the supposed "egg", they'll find it quickly among the Lieutenant's gear. Apart from being round, however, there is nothing that would indicate this rock isn't just a normal rock. The Lieutenant takes the rock when it is brought to him, but has no idea how to test if it's an egg. He tries shaking it lightly near his ear, but hears nothing more than a shaken rock. "If it were an egg, I suppose we'd need to incubate it, right? Do lizards even incubate their eggs? Assuming that it is... you know."

If Commandant Nattensbarn pays any attention to whatever the three are doing, she doesn't show it. Not unless they cause a lot of noise, that is.

Arren picks up the supposed egg carefully. He examines it up close first, then runs his fingertips softly over its surface, trying to determine whether it feels like nothing more than a smooth stone, or if there is any irregularity—any tiny crack or roughness, however faint.

"What did those pages say about handling the egg?" he asks.

Assuming he is told, he glances around, making sure that the elements mentioned in the text are not fully present. Since, at the very least, there is no running water nearby, he places the stone on the ground in front of him. He rests both hands gently over it and takes a few slow breaths, steadying his pulse as the book instructed.

He waits like that for a moment, trying not to think too much into what he is doing. Is he really expecting to feel some kind of beating within a stone?

Afterward, he lifts his hands and passes the stone to Bryn, supposing the Elf will want to examine the "egg" up close as well.