Gyselle, you have a pretty good idea of how big the unit is, and you figure that the second largest stack seems about right. Just as you're about to hand over the goods though, the supply sergeant gets back. "Hey, stop, not that one. That's for the Lancers, the Steelshields get the third Pile." You curse internally for not deciding quicker and hand over the third, unpurified pile, as the supply sergeant returns and deals with the formalities of the receipt form.

Arc, the journey to the hamlet takes far less time than it did with your waggon previously, as the lancers are intent on making good time and the modified waggons have no problem keeping up. Even though, it takes you riding through the night, and you arrive in the village shortly after dawn. You notice that the houses are shuttered up and that no one is visibly in front of their houses or on their ways to the surrounding fields. As you climb out of one of the waggons and approach Kathy's home, making sure to show your empty hands and uncover your face. Sure enough, after a minute or so, you see one of the windows open and a male voice from inside calling out towards you: 

"I reckognise ye!" you can make out some muffled and hushed conversation from inside the house, before you hear the voice again: "What're ye doin' 'ere, an' what's with them Garronians ye brought along?"

Arcius takes a step back from the door to look up at the male voice and reply, making large gestures with his hands to show he's unarmed, "Hello again. My companions and I happened upon these good people's regiment, and saw they were in need of help. One relating problem was that they needed food. So, they've come to trade, and propose a joint venture in repairing that windmill from before!" Arc saw no need to hide their intentions for coming here, as their was no darkness to the truth and the people here seemed compassionate, if to the most average degree.

Another bout of muffled conversation follows. Then, the door opens, and old Brelak steps outside, with Kathy and one of the kids behind. Brelak carefully approaches, before embracing Arc: "It's good ta see ye 'ere. Sorry if I had tha hemlet in a worry, I get a li'l jumpy when I sees Garronians ona 'rizon." He turns to the other houses: "It's a'right, ye can come out now!"

Turning back to Arc, he asks: "What's wi' the rest o' ye? An' did I hear right, ye wanna fix up the ol' mill in tha woods?" By now, you see that the dozen or so denizens of the hamlet have emerged and are greeting you eagerly, with Jack approaching you to give you a warm embrace as well. You can tell by how the villagers are acting around Brelak, that the integration is well under way, and that he's trying to make up for his past. The other gang members are similarly intermingled in the crowd, seemingly happy to keep the people safe, rather than robbing them.

Arc is a tad stiff when receiving the hug, not used to direct displays of physical affection or compassion. He does his best to return the hug, but it is clear he's not used to hugging. When the hugging finally ends, he clears his throat and straightens out his shoulders, "Ah, the others are back at the camp, helping with the other issues going on back there. I came because I would be of help in setting up a fair trade and getting the mill up and running. The soldiers behind me are also engineers, and their commander was hoping to make an arrangement to provide security and helping repair the mill, in exchange for fair trade for food." Arc would then motion one of the soldiers who came with him, so that he could help mediate the trade, "We've brought a number of supplies, trade goods and tools, as well as the promise to start work, in exchange for food for the camp and your hamlet's best wishes to begin work on the mill."

Gyselle continues attempting to purify food and drink though this time with the added wrinkle of the supply sergeant not being aware of what she is doing.

Kathy steps forward, eyeing the engineer and Arc: "Mighty genrous of the Garronians ta do that- must really need our wheat, looks like. A'right, i'll bite, how much ya lookin' ta get?" You can tell that the prospect of their own working mill is interesting, but not crucial to the hamlet, since they'd likely have managed to put together some funds to repair it themselves, if they needed to.

Gyselle, it doesn't take long until the sergeant walks up to you, hovering aorund the supplies, gesturing and murmuring strange things: "Do you have to do that? I appreciate the help, but that's weird, and I do need to concentrate. Please." It's clear he is uncomfortable with what he takes to be some sort of strange religious display of a foreign faith, and would like you to leave him alone. Unless you resist his wishes, you won't be able to purify more of the stores.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. This is something my mother taught me before she passed. It’s the one memory I have of her and she told me it makes the food taste better.” Gyselle pauses a moment gauging the sergeants reaction. “I don’t think it actually makes it taste better. But it makes me feel close to her. If it bothers you that much I’ll leave you to your work...” the sentence trails off, waiting for a response. 

Hearing your explanation, the supply sergeant immediately takes a step back and throws up his hands: "I'm so sorry, I had no idea... hrm... um... sure, go ahead, I don't want to... uh, yeah." He turns away, very awkward about the whole thing, and lets you proceed. When other soldiers from other units arrive, he waves your chanting off, leaving most of the soldiers with a bewildered or amused look on their face as they return back to their respective parts of the camp. You notice while you're doing this, that the Crendilian guard is picking up their share just like the other units, and there seems to be nothing on any of the bags that would have marked them as different to the rest.

Thia would look up to see Tarian, then look to Corti when she'd present her translated findings. She'd offer her a soft smile. "Thank you Corti. It's definitely something to build upon." The artificer would nod. She'd feel herself looking for somewhere to take a seat. It had been a long day with a lot of ups and downs. "So what do we know of Silverbark?" She'd ask openly, hoping for everyone to chime in with anything they knew. Looking through her bag for her own notes, Thia would eventually thumb through them, occasionally rubbing her eyes. It didn't appear she had any immediate notes on Silverbark. Perhaps one of her books of study...

Nodding to Kathy, Arc will motion to the carts, "As much as you're able to spare in exchange for what we can trade." He will then list what items they have to trade in exchange for food, on top of leaning into the benefits of having the windmill up and running, even if they have little need of it. Beyond feeding themselves it could also allow for better trade in the future, with added flour production, and possibly allow them to expand upon the hamlet's infrastructure.

Seeing the good tools and building materials you brought with you, Kathy decides to take you along and show you their grain stores. Only to you though. As you step inside, you see a large barn, standing mostly empty. Towards the rear wall, some two dozen sacks of flour and a couple dozen bushels of unthrashed wheat are all that is inside. Seeing your sinking expression, she says: "I'm sorry, I'd love ta help more, ye did us all a great turn, but as ye can see, we don't have much fer ourselves. I can give ye maybe a dozen sacks of flour, but that's as much as we can provide, the rest we need fer winter and to sow come spring. We've got nothin' fer tha horses."

You figure that a sack of flour might be enough to feed 40 men for a day on full rations, if you bake it up into bread. Duskrock was at least a week away if you were traveling with all the soldiers though, and you don't remember any settlements larger than that hamlet on your way from Duskrock.

Arc quickly did the math in his head, as well as ways to water down and further ration the food. He didn't want to hedge his bets on the magic of purification in case it didn't pull through, and even then they would need more food to stabilize the soldiers. After a moments of thought, Arc nods to Kathy and offers a polite smile, "This is more than enough. That said, I do want to maintain a positive connection between your people and the soldiers, so please do pick the best of what you find within reason for the dozen sacks."

If and when the transaction was done, Arc would direct the lancers & engineers towards the mill so they can set up a temporary camp and get started on figuring out what needed to be done to get the mill operational.

Tarian had been paying attention to Njalgas when Thia piped up about silverbark. “Silverbark? Mother used to buy some from a merchant who imported it from the south, near Q’barra. Locals used branches for baskets and fish traps, from what I heard, and the bark and sap for their healing properties. Mother used to fix bark tea to reduce my fever when I got sick.” Tarian considered what remained in Hadrari’s tent. “Unless there’s some among the supplies here, I doubt we’d find any nearby.” She thought for a moment. “Though, if Duskrock does decide to send aid, I guess I could add in a request for silverbark. Is that what you need, Miss Thia?”

“Thia.” Why do Tarian and Arc insist on calling her Miss? She felt foolish to allow the formality to go on as long as it did “Just, Thia.” She’d say softly. She was sitting, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees as she’d massage her temples and close her eyes.

Who was Ishmael communicating with? What part do they play in all of this? Are they the ones behind the poisonings in Duskrock? Are they unknowingly revealing all they know to the culprit? What else were they up too? Something just wasn’t sitting right. It was like she was grasping at straws and coming up short. There was a caution in the note as well as an alteration of some sort mentioned in the burned documents. Things are evolving rapidly while they stood still. And if they did decide to send the silverbark, how long would it take?

And without wavering too much from her tone before, she’d confess. “And, I don’t know what I need, Tarian. You’re always twenty steps ahead of me, you tell me.” Thia would sigh heavily as she’d deflate and lean back in her seat before sliding down into slouch. Truthfully, it should be Tarian. She proved to be way more practically knowledgeable than the alchemist, proving books were a waste after all. Thia would move to pinching the bridge of her nose, as if trying to ground her mind. 

“I was supposed to be twenty steps ahead.” Tarian stood and marched toward Thia, her face a complex mix of emotion. “I trained as a guard. As a shield, I’m supposed to be twenty steps ahead of you to take hits so you don’t have to.” Tarian stopped immediately next to Thia. Normally the warrior would just be over half a head taller than the alchemist, but with Thia slouched in her chair, Tarian towered over her.

“This, though,” Tarian stabbed a finger at the charred note, “I don’t know, either. But I’m not lost here. Because helping these people isn’t what I’m here to do—” Briefly Njalgas stopped with the telelith, and held up the note Tarian had penned. Tarian grunted her frustration, and turned to the gnome. “—regardless of what my report says.”

She took a step back, easing some of the deep shadows she cast over Thia. “I was always taught to do three things if I have a problem: find out where I’m at and what I have available to me; figure out what my objective is; and then connect the two. And if I can’t do the third, I must need to fix something with the first or the second.”

Tarian folded her arms briefly and thought better of it, then awkwardly adjusted her stance. “Sorry, Miss Thia, I’m probably not acting much like the mission leader you all need. I’ve… got a report to get back to.” Tarian quietly turned back toward Njalgas.

Camp: We're still dealing with events late at night

It takes about an hour, before the telelith crackles into action, and a short while later, Njalgas presents the ladies with the response from Duskrock.

"Thanks for the report, will investigate the farmer angle with Brother Kobe.

Encourage to come to Duskrock as soon as possible. Will be sending food your way, but don't expect it for at least four days, but the closer to Duskrock you are, the sooner we can feed the troops."

A short while later, Njalgas approaches Tarian. "Magistrate sent a second note, for your eyes only." After handing her a short note, he heads onwards to Thia, and hands her a note as well. "They wanted me to transmit this to you as well."

Is there anything else you want to do for the night, or are you going to discuss things with the Mashal in the morning? Do any of you wish to talk amongs yourself, or with Othmar?

----------------------------------------------

Windmill:

Early in the morning, the trek arrives near the dilapidated mill, and starts setting up their camps and posting guards, before the majority of the engineers, and Arc himself, take some much needed rest. Around midday, the engineers start to unload their materials and set up storage, while the lancers are scouting passages for the rest of the army and compiling information. Having secured the grain for some of the items for trade, Arc oversees some of the villagers loading up the modified carts. By three o'clock, all the waggons have been emptied and the empty waggons filled with grain and wheat for the camp.

Is Arc staying behind coordinating plans for the mill repairs and maintaining relations with the camp, or is he taking charge of the trek to deliver the grain back at the camp?

Thia's tone had not been angry or aggressive. It was just soft and neutral. Though, she couldn't blame Tarian for her reaction from her words, and some lack there of. She deserved every bit of it. Tarian had shared a piece of herself and provided insight to what Thia had asked for, yet her knee jerk reaction was to be a smartass. Thia would take in a breath as Tarian loomed over her. She'd absentmindedly move her hand to her side, massaging her bruised rib as Tarian started her piece.

The artificer would finally look up, blue eyes meeting Tarian's, not wavering when she'd stab at the note. Only when Tarian would make her point and turn her head to Njalgas would Thia make her own sound and look elsewhere. Tarian's always got herself all figured out, doesn't she? Her other hand had found the arm of the chair and began picking at it.

Thia would still listen, though she wasn't completely sure if this was actual insight, or more chastising. What is Tarian dancing around? She'd exhale before looking back up. What needs to be fixed?

She couldn't help but furrow her brows when Tarian would apologize to her. It was not something she expected. Nor did she agree or feel it was necessary. Nonetheless, it didn't change the fact that Tarian felt it was necessary to say. And it made Thia's heart sink a little. She'd catch her hand reaching for Tarian's to stop her when she would turn to get back to her report, but would stop short. Thia would let out a quiet sigh. It's just Thia... She would lay her head back and close her eyes. She'd bring her hand back up to begin rubbing her forehead. Just Thia.

The artificer would open her eyes and lift her head once again when the telelith crackled into into action. Her eyes would follow Njalgas, watching him present a secret letter for Tarian from the Magistrate before watching the messenger present Thia with her own. Thia's jaw would clench to bite back mixed emotions as she'd read it. When done, she'd place it face up on the arm of her chair, poking at it once or twice. The alchemist would return her arms to herself, holding her sides.

Thia would lay her head back down, eventually she'd begin muttering under her breath out loud to herself. "Silverbark when used in a tea like Tarian's mom administered to reduced fever would speak for its natural antipyretic properties..." Thia would pinch the bridge of her nose again. "But that wasn't effective enough when treating patients in Duskrock..." She'd pause a moment to think about what she had available to work with, "Othmar's machine filters the blood... It significantly delayed the progression, making it more effective..." This would let go of her bridge, making a gesture with her hand feeling as though she was heading down a path. "But there was something else about Silverbark... What other properties..." Thia would begin patting her nose as she did when she was in thought. "Khynin. It thins the blood." She'd open her eyes. I guess we really do need Silverbark.

Thia would reach for one of her mapping notebooks, scanning through it. Eventually her finger would find the rough notes and pat it. Tarian was of course right about it growing in the mangrove swamps of Q'barra, but, "Silverbark also grows near the borderlands to Cyre." She'd pause a moment to do some rough calculations. "About two or three days ride from here..." Less if the rider and horse are willing... Thia would brace herself before pushing herself up back onto her feet. Time to find a horse.

Arc opts to stay behind, but attaches his Turret to one of the wagons, for added protection. He further, hands one of the lancer's a random flower he plucked off the side of the road. "Take this to the Marshal if you would." Without explaining, he pats the lancer on the shoulder, not telling him that he had magically inscribed a message onto the flower. Furthermore, he gives his turret specific instructions to only activate/fire upon, targets that assault the wagons or those protecting them.

(Arc is inscribing this flower with a message for the sake of being sneaky/preventing the message from being intercepted by any possible attackers. He is using his Magical Tinkering ability for this. It should relay a 6 second message once the Marshal grasps it)