Arkun walks away, frustrated by another fruitless interaction with someone at this wide spot in the road.  ((Any results from his history check on Tricklerock cave?)).  “Boy, someone woke up on the wrong side of the pickaxe.”  He nods to Rumble, walking away and hearing his thought about the strange interaction.  He turns to Sylra, saying “Really?  I thought she was just a crabby, disgruntled quarry foreman.  Wishing to be no help to us.  She’s holding something back?  Well, makes sense, I suppose.  I agree with you, going to the quarry itself is likely the best thing to do.”  Arkun walks along, waving his hands, frustrated with the behavior of the quarry foreman, and other people in general.  

ALDRIC:

"If I were wanting a wagon, how much would that cost?"

"It's no problem," Waelver says, but it's obvious he's at least somewhat unsettled by Aldric's presence. "Each of these wagons can carry upwards of four hundred pounds guaranteed, and they'll run you thirty five gold pieces for each of 'em," he answers.

Feathers drift in the air as Aldric steps into Drouth Fine Poultry. At the street end of the building nearest the door are a number of cages and casks, followed by two brick cooking hearths, long and bloodstained cutting tables, and then a plucking area in the back. Feathers are heaped in open handcarts in the back of the room. 

A human woman with long brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail wipes bloodied hands on an apron as she approaches Aldric at the front door. Her skin is tanned and her hands calloused as she shakes Aldric's, and she appears to be around thirty years of age. She doesn't seem to flinch at Aldric's appearance. "You're a new face. You here for meat or feathers?" she asks.

When Aldric tells her the reason he's here, she scrunches up her face. "Sheriff Harburk sent you here? I'm afraid I'm woefully short on information from you, unless you're looking for a list of the inns I supply across the valley," she says.

ARKUN, RUMBLE, RYLAN & SYLRA:

Albaeri Mellikho bids you an impatient farewell, assuring Sylra that she'll contact her at the Swinging Sword if she learns anything more. As you walk along the main road in town, you spot Aldric, hard to miss in the distance further south along the road, ducking into the poultry shop.

For Arkun:

Arkun walking along strains his neck looking into the distance, then points at the helmed warrior, saying to Rumble "Hey, isn't that helmed guy Sir Grumpy Grumplepot that we met before?  The one giving you all of the orders?"

"Why I say I do believe you're r-ri-right! Awww, Tyr forgive me." Said Rumble, or so he tried around a bout of chuckling over Arkun's word. Then before he knew it, a stoney hand is reach out to clap onto Arkun's shoulder and give the elf a few good hearty shakes. "That was a good one." He starts, still grinning in amusement. But then, it began to soften at the edges. "But, in all seriousness and with due respect, I'd ask ya keep that kinda talk to yourself. His demeanor might not be to... everyone's taste, but he is knight deserving a measure of respect for the goodly deeds AND thensome he's no doubt accomplished over the years."

He patted him on the shoulder one more time or attempted to do so at least. But even had Arkun jerked away or shrugged him off by then, Rumble shrugged it off and carried on towards the poultry shop as if nothing occurred at all. Even once inside and able to see the Orc, apart from holding the door open for others step in afterwards, the earth genasi would patiently wait for Aldric to complete his own business before greeting the man respectful but only slight bow of the head. 

Aldric thinks back to what the sheriff had said to him a little while ago. "I'm sorry," he says, "the sheriff said you were requesting a visit — from him — and so he thought maybe you or one of your kids had some information that might help my investigation." He looks around for any small humans.

OOC: Going out on a limb to speed this along ...

When the woman expresses confusion, Aldric ventures: "This is the Mhandyvers' poultry shop, isn't it?"

Finally understanding, the woman tells the half-orc that he has the wrong poultry shop. She points him further south.

Aldric's cheeks darken a little as he realizes his assumption has delayed his investigation. "Sorry to have bothered you." As he is leaving, he says to the woman, "I will probably be back in town in the next few tendays. If you hear anything, please hold onto it for me."

He puts his helm back on and walks south, once again opening his senses to the presence of chickens. As the sounds of poultry fade away behind him, new sounds carry him forward. He notices that the occasional gobble and quack join the fairly consistent clucking.

He finds himself outside the building he hopes is correct this time.

When he locates someone to talk to, he spits out even faster than normal: "Sir Aldric Harthstone of the Knights of Samular and marshal of Westbridge."

Taking a breath, he asks hopefully, "This is the Mhandyvver's poultry shop, correct?"

When they affirm he has the right place, he smiles. "Sheriff Harburk said you might have some information. I am investigating increased criminal activity in the valley over the last six months. I'm specifically looking for Rivergard Keep, but I'd also like to hear any other observations you might have. The sheriff said you were requesting a visit from him."

Arkun turns his head to Rumble with a smile, leaning into him and playing along with him.  “Oh, so you know of him?  Today is not your first time meeting him, or you’ve heard of him?  If there is an order to things, a hierarchy or ranks, what have you, far be it from me to disturb that.  Not my cup of tea, but I take orders, just like everyone else.  I didn’t know that you held him in high regard.  It seemed like he was ordering you around, but whatever floats your canoe…”. He stops, considering, looking at him off in the distance.  “Maybe he does have knowledge of some things that would be helpful.”  He turns back to Rumble, appraising him.  “Fine.  If you say so.  He looks like he’s ducking into that poultry shop.  Heh.  Ducking into poultry.. Perhaps he's onto something."  Arkun keeps walking along, silently for now, bending down and picking up an acorn as he's walking, then rolling it over and over in his hand.  He leans over to Sylra, saying "I hope that we are onto something.  Meeting you has been beneficial, I feel like we can definitely help each other..". He lets out a sigh and keeps walking.   

Sylra walked with a steady rhythm alongside the others, her boots scuffing lightly against the packed dirt of the Long Road. The wind tugged gently at the hem of her robe, bringing with it the familiar, dry scent of stone and sunbaked earth. Her shield rested comfortably on her back, and the weight of her pack settled with every measured step. Though the day remained warm for the season, she moved with the unbothered grace of someone used to the elements and the road alike.

When Arkun pointed out the armored figure ducking into the poultry shop ahead, Sylra turned her head slightly, catching the tail end of a familiar silhouette. The helm and posture were unmistakable. It was the same half-orc she had encountered briefly at the inn, the one who had nearly collided with her in the doorway—Sir Aldric Harthstone. She hadn’t exchanged many words with him then, but she remembered the presence he carried and the wary glance he had cast her way. Now, seeing him again and clearly pursuing his own investigation, it was hard to ignore the impression that their paths were meant to intersect once more.

She remained quiet as Arkun and Rumble exchanged jests, the air between them shifting from humor to something a touch more serious. Arkun’s light tone was met with Rumble’s respectful correction, and though the words remained friendly, Sylra could feel the undercurrent of principle in the earth genasi’s voice. She let them speak, not interrupting, but watching and listening with quiet attentiveness. In their banter, there was camaraderie forming, even if its edges hadn’t yet been worn smooth by time.

After a pause, she spoke in a calm, even voice that cut through the warmth of the moment without diminishing it. “Let’s not be too quick to dismiss those who carry weight in this town,” she said, directing the thought more to the group than to anyone in particular. “Sometimes the gruff ones are the ones with the clearest sense of what’s wrong. They just don’t share it unless they feel they must.”

Her gaze lingered in the direction of the poultry shop, where the knight had vanished moments earlier. “If he’s involved, or even just watching closely, that’s worth our attention. People like him often see more than they say, and if he’s putting effort into this, then something more is stirring beneath the surface.”

She turned slightly toward Arkun, offering him a subtle nod as her voice softened. “And you’re right, by the way. I feel the same. There’s a reason we’ve come together like this, and I believe we’ll be stronger for what lies ahead, whatever shape it takes.”

With that, she adjusted her shield strap and started walking again, her steps quiet but purposeful. “Come. Let’s see if Sir Harthstone is in a mood to talk today,” she said over her shoulder, trusting the others would follow as she made her way toward the shop.