Corti takes a seat next to Thia and watches as the artificer jotted down notes and sketches regarding the horses. She listens as Thia describes her ideas and then nods along with Tarian, "I'd like to help too. I don't think any of my magic could help the poor things, but this..." She trails off and gestures to Thia's sketch, "Some of the lancers could walk up front to lead the horses, and then the rest of us would stay behind them to keep an eye on the gear... and I suppose the supplies we use to build it would lighten the load."

You spend another half hour or so, resting the horses further while the three of you go about constructing a simple travois out of some hempen rope and the canvas of one of the tents. It's a simple construction, nothing pretty, but it should help distribute the load. As you bed down for the evening, you implement a rotation system between rest and watch, so that nobody has to sleep outside of a tent.

As another morning dawns, you eat a quick breakfast before putting the harness onto the somewhat more rested horses and set off. The construction, though simple, is quickly showing an effect and together with the rest, even the trickier passages are quickly passed. As the path widens and becomes less steep, you find yourselves having to run after the two horses pulling the supplies, until you decide to remount them and carry on at a much enhanced speed.

About an hour and a half after setting out, the fog in the valley before you lifts, and you all lay eyes onto the Cyrean borderlands: You have to steady yourselves as what you see before you is devastation of a scale unfathomable. In the middle of the lush forest, about ten miles wide and stretching as far as your eyes can reach, you see nothing but a few charred remains of the burnt forest, cracked earth and ruined structures. Most of you heard about the Burning Cyre campaigns, but seeing the devastation before you, the ruthless, methodical nature of the advance that burnt everything in its path to deny cover, resources or nourishment to the Cyrean resistance, it's overwhelming. As you turn to Gyselle, you can tell that she is deeply upset and uncomfortable with the sight as well. The lancers meanwhile don't seem too bothered by the destruction before you.

It's clear that for anyone seeking to harvest plants, they will have to stick to the foot of the mountains, where the forest hasn't been completely destroyed. By the lancer's estimation, it will likely take another two or so hours to reach the valley floor.

When Corti would take a seat with Thia as she worked, she'd eventually find herself laying her head against the bard's shoulder. Her structure build made her a little cooler to the touch which felt nice against her skin. The artificer would lift her head to look to Tarian with a nod, "I appreciate your help Tarian." Then she'd look to Corti. "Thank you." Thia was grateful for their input and assistance on the construction and set up of the harness.

Thia would then squeeze in a little time to review her cartography notes before moving on to review her personal notes. She needed to remember to keep looking over her research for the 'cure'. The alchemist's notes on plants and herbs were plenty thorough, but she felt as though maybe she had been slacking on actually investigating the details of what they were going to do with the materials once they got their hands on them. If they did. You've come this far now... Don't doubt it now... Thia would give her head a shake. She'd work on advancing her research with what time she could spare.

Thia felt cold throughout the night, shivering once again. Rest came, but never fully as the days went by. She felt a little drained just a little more every day. Was the quiet moral of the group weighing on her? Was anxiety rearing it's ugly head? Was she exhausting herself by getting trapped in her head? Or simply the labourous trek? Morning still came and breakfast quick. The artificer was thankful to see that their group efforts paid off for their journey that day. Despite the trickier passages, they made good pace. Although sloppy from unsteady hands, Thia would be sure to update the geography and path in the cartography notes as the opportunities presented themselves.

When the group would come upon the view of the true devastation of the Burning Cyre campaigns, Thia couldn't help but hold a hand over her chest. How devastatingly ruthless. She'd sigh, closing her eyes for a moment of respect. There wasn't anything that could be done now... Nothing she could do...

They were here for their own mission and Thia needed to view the land from a different perspective. What could she find, harvest and save from this disaster? The alchemist would review her notes to remind herself what to look for and where to best look for it. Of course she'd prioritize the silverbark first, but there was mention of the rumoured Plimsoll root that were found in the everglades. If that happened to match the same area, or be close by to their main focus, silverbark, she'd keep it in mind. And when they would advance to the valley floor, Thia would do her best to keep a clear attentive mind to watch out for signs that they could be getting closer.

“Stories are quite a bit different from seeing it in person.” Tarian shielded her eyes as she surveyed the devastation. “They really didn’t hold back, did they?” Her brief chuckle was heavily colored with incredulity and disgust.

“Look, we’re just—” she quickly gestured to Corti and Thia, “—all of us, we’re just civilians. Somebody needs to tend the hearth at home, right? This was a story in the paper to me, and muddled tales from the few who were able to return.” She shook her head and looked again at the devastation. “Stories that say how great your own side is and how bad the others are… I’m sure you planned to tell the same once you got back home. But the truth…” Tarian’s gaze swept from end to end of the horizon before them. “…The truth is always more than the telling.”

Gyselle has no words to say about the destruction before the group. Which is unusual considering she’s usually very chipper. She nods quietly along with Tarian’s words then does her beat to assist Thia with finding the requisite herbs. 

Phoenix looks at Arc, a sad smile around her lips: "I believe so... if we find him, he'll deserve every punishment put towards him. But don't forget my own role in events. We did support the March on Thelamyria, and I then gathered what forces I could after the General's death, and marched them through all that devastation towards Breland, in the hopes of victory. I knew that our forces were beaten back in the east, that the Thran columns had taken Crendil, and that Brelish Marines were winning the war in the north with the Skins by their side, but part of me hoped, that with a sufficient push, with enough bluster, and through quick movement, we might force Brelish concessions.

It's ironic... If it weren't for Ishmael and his radicals, trying to do the utmost to sabotage any cessation of hostilities, I likely wouldn't be willing to surrender my troops now."

As she ends, admitting for the first time the full scale of her defeat, and the clear admission that she had gambled and lost, she breaks, and tears start to roll down her face. As you're about to reach out though, you realise that they are tears not of sadness, but of anger and frustration.

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

The remainder of the descent is somber and arduous, each of you grappling with the devastation of war before you. The next two hours feel like gum, stretching endlessly and making every little jerk along the route jolt through your body, making you feel the fatigue of the fast journey to this point. When you reach the valley floor, you can smell the devastation: the smell of burnt and rotting corpses of animals and probably also people still filling the air, and every gust of wind easily pushing through thee burnt stumps before you and picking up ash and dust, such that you feel as though you're approaching a fog bank. What is eerie is that the unburnt trees before you seem to be grey and ashen themselves, covered by the fine ash that is being blown through the air. Before long, you see your own coats turning grey, as the ash starts to settle, almost like snowflakes. It's not long, before you have to pull up a scarf around your face to avoid breathing in the ash, and your vision becomes increasingly obscured. After about half an hour, you reach the burnt out ruins of a Cyrean watchtower of some sort, and you hunker down for a bit to let the wind pass. Twenty minutes or so later, one of the lancers scrambles up the precarious ruin to get a better view and to give you all directions for the next leg of your journey.

As you leave the burnt out structure, you're surprised to step out into a changed area, swept over by the ash and dust, and smoothed over. It's shocking to see that your own tracks have been swept away, as if you were never even here. Pointing you in the right direction, you follow on, pushing thforward to what looks like the first stretch of unburnt trees and forsest. As you get there, you see a small stream separate the burnt trees on the one hand and the still standing ones on the other. The stream itself is nothing more than a mucked up little pond, with the fetid water having taken on an oily surface, shimmering in sickly colours. You can make out the corpse of some animal that likely tried to flee the flames now festering in the water. Thanks to the muck, it takes you a while to savely move your tired horses through or around the former stream, but once you get onto the other side, things become not easier, but more common. The Undergrowth makes progress slow, but the foliage of the trees provides for fresher air and humidity, which soothes your parched skin.

The sun reaches its zenith, as you happen about a small grove of trees, which look like the ones that Thia indicated. She seems to be almost as weary as your poor horses and her face is caked with a layer of ash, crossed by beads of sweat making their way across her face. She's shaking slightly, though due to the excitement of finding the trees that you were looking for, or because of something else, you're not quite sure.

Insight: 20

Arc, you figure that she is frustrated, as if the world had conspired against her. As if, despite everything she had done, every test she overcame, and every challenge she faced, she still wasn't good enough. As if she still didn't belong. As if she was nothing more than a fraud and all the soldiers that doubted her were right to do so.Something of her noble bearing gives way, and you see in her someone else, afraid of the world but determined to make something of herself.

While Corti had been chatting with the others in the group on the ride, she fell completely silent as they approached the wreckage of the forest. She looks down as Tarian speaks. I'm not. She feels a wave of disgust sweep through her, at the lives lost, the destruction, the war, and just slightly at herself. I shouldn't even be shocked anymore. It's not like I don't know what these armies are capable of. What my army was capable of.

She forces herself to watch their surroundings as they ride, and she makes no effort to break the somber silence of the group. As she spots the trees that Thia had shown them she dismounts and puts a hand on the artificer's arm, offering comfort and waiting for her confirmation.

Thia would place her own hand on Corti's as she'd into her for support, but also to offer what support she could to the warforged. Thia believed it to be just as difficult for Corti to witness. It was a bittersweet moment to say the least. Thia would look up to Corti. The artificer appeared beyond exhausted, her shakes never steadied. Her eyes were sunken and tired, yet showed a hint of hope. "They look like the right trees." 

The lancers perked up at Thia's words: "That's good right? What do we do now, do we cut off branches to take with us, dig up the roots or try and strip its bark? Do we need to do anything else to keep its effects until we can treat the ill in camp? Is there a way we can make sure that the stuff works?" To all of you, it seems like all the pent up energy from the last few days, spent mostly in silence and hard riding, bubble up now, as the lancers, clearly out of their element here, want to help as much as they can to distract themselves from the devastation wrought by their comrades.

“I get your enthusiasm, but ease off a bit.” Tarian put herself between Thia and the lancers, then raised both palms toward them as though she could build a wall to ward off the soldiers. “Harvesting materials can be delicate work. You wouldn’t want some greenhorn servicing your soldier gear, right? Your lives depend on that being done right.” Tarian looked around a bit. “It’s the same here. Your lives depend on this, so it better be done right. If Miss Thia thinks there’s something you can do, she’ll ask.”

Tarian turned to Thia and spoke a bit quieter. “That being said, you look a bit worn. If I noticed, they might’ve, too, which might explain why they’re so eager.” She nudged her head a bit toward the lancers. “We’re all your tools on this mission, Miss Thia. I hope you’ll make use of us as such.” Her eyes pointedly drifted toward where Thia kept the tools of her trades. “Because I’ve seen how well you take care of them.”

Arc stood up from his seat and slowly made his way over. He wasn't much of a caring or even comforting person....but he could understand and empathize with what Phoenix was going through, and the weight she was bearing. He didn't hug her, he wasn't much of a hugger, and he didn't really have the right words to comfort people. Neither was him. So he did the best thing he could. Placing a comforting hand, albeit an awkward one, on her shoulder, he patted the Marshal's body while turning his head away, "....I'm not really good at this but....thank you for your hard work Phoenix....you did a good job....the best you could, with what you had." Giving her shoulder a light squeeze, the young noble cleared his throat and added, "And I respect you for that....so no matter what happens. Hold your chin up. No God or Court can steal that from you.....you did your best."

Thia had gone wide eyed at the sudden sense of enthusiasm directed her way. She was about to open her mouth in a hasty response to the Lancers when Tarian would step in. Thia would inhale a breath instead, taking a step back to allow for Tarian to finish speaking with the soldiers. Hearing Tarian's words herself, they were a sobering reminder.

Harvesting materials can be delicate work. You wouldn’t want some greenhorn servicing your soldier gear, right? Your lives depend on that being done right.

Your lives depend on this, so it better be done right.

When Tarian would actually turn to address Thia, she'd be slightly surprised but would listen. She'd chew on her lips as she digested all of Tarian's words. The artificer's eyes would soften in a sense of self disappointment.

If I noticed, they might’ve, too...

Thia would shift uncomfortably. She'd glance away and exhale a breath, but would nod along for the most part. No one's a tool... Thia completely understood Tarian's sentiment though, and didn't want to undercut it with her sharp tongue like she has every time before. Thia knew she needed help since the beginning, this is why they were all here, and she needed everyone's skills to succeed. Thia always had, since the beginning. Corti has been her patient guide most of the way, but there hasn't been an important task or breakthrough that she's completed without the help from each of them... her friends. Thia always needed and desired the help, but struggled asking for it, or accepting it with grace.

Thia would finally speak. "Thank you, Tarian." She'd say quietly with a nod. "Yes... All steady hands on deck will be necessary." Eventually she'd look back up. "I'd suggest we start with one tester attempt, then perhaps a demo attempt for others depending on the success." The artificer would think out loud as she'd slowly begin to pad in the direction of her tools. "I have been wondering if you, Corti or Gyselle could help remind me what was in the letters that might help us in our preparation..."

Reaching her tools, Thia would lay a few out and then pull out her notebook. With shaking hands she'd sketch a quick, rough, rendering of the tree to begin a diagram of her thoughts on harvesting. "Starting high, and only using a knife for one cut down the tree trunk..." She'd draw a best attempt at vertical line on the tree, trying to stress the importance of very straight vertical cuts only. Horizontal or crooked may risk killing the tree. "When cutting into the bark, the knife must cut down to the cambium." She'd pat the paper before fumbling her pen and then adjust to finish explaining by making gestures with her hands. "Then peel. If conditions are right, perhaps we can even peel larger strips in spirals around the tree." These were all things she'd have to ask for their help with as well.

(Using birch bark harvesting techniques as inspiration for her approach.)

 WIth your instruction and the diagram, the lancers go about the work, using their daggers to carefully score the bark, before finding the confidence for a deep cut. It takes about ten minutes, before they start to gingerly peel the bark away from the tree. To your great relief, the first strip is already at a length of almost three feet and a palm's width, and while they continue to strip more bark, you can begin processing it for a first test.

Corti, your mechanical mind would have no trouble recalling the exact wording of the letter: 

...oll root makes the poison less potent, but touch
… …fices for effects to … root. Be careful not to get
 … … …ny open wound... … …ne of your own gets sick,
… …em with a tonic … … …ilverbark.

… the pulp, before filter… … s the substance can
 …wise act as a potent poison on its own.

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

Arc, at your words and your gestures, Phoenix rises from her chair. A sad look in her eyes, she nevertheless smiles and her eyes linger a moment on your lips, before she leans in to kiss you. It's passionate, but brief, as she quickly withdraws, embarassed.

"I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

Arc's eyes widened as Phoenix leaned in, to kiss him. He wasn't sure why, but he froze, his chest tightening as a warm feeling filled his stomach. It was only a moment, however, as she quickly withdrew and apologized. For once, Arcius opted to stop thinking about it, and simply brought up a hand to her cheek, bringing his own lips back to hers, "You're right, let me fix that." Referring to how quickly she withdrew, he pulled her in for the kiss, this time kissing her back with just as much passion as she showed him. His free hand wrapped around her hip as she pulled her into his own embrace, the kiss now dragging on to a good half-minute before he pulled back. "....still feel like apologizing?~" The young nobleman gave a small smirk at the marshal, as his hand still stroked the side of her face affectionately.

Phoenix looks at Arc, somewhat stunned: "I... Thank you." She took a cautious step back. "You've helped me so much, I don't know how to ever repay that." She looked about, unsure. Casting her gaze downwards, she says quietly: "It's getting late, sorry for having dragged out this dinner. You should get some rest..."

 Arc slipped his hand from her cheek down to her chin and raised her gaze back to his. Still holding her by the hip, he brought his lips down to her ear, "I don't actually think either of us will be getting much sleep yet...do you?" His fingers trickled down from her chin, skidding across her neck to her shoulder. "I also haven't thanked you for the meal~"

Phoenix blushes, and after quickly ordering some of her guard to clean up her tent, grabs Arc's hand and leads him out towards her personal tent, where soon after she is "loudly agreeing" with Arc for about an hour, before you both find some much needed rest.

Intelligence medicine check: 19 (if not allowed subtract 2)

 Gyselle tries her best to help decipher the missing blanks in the letter, but is completely stumped and wanders off to the bark harvesting believing that someone will figure it out and hoping she’ll be of more help gathering the bark.

Dex check: 6

 While gathering the bark she calls out to Thia, “Let me know if I can be of any assistance making this cure.”