Open Chronicles Ditched

[Oliver]

The sky had bent closer to the ground, a great gradient of grey diffusing the midday light and dulling all colour.

It was the first day without rain since a nigh week ago, if still overcast. Though the air still had a weight, hanging and clutching into skin like damp gauze, he had deemed today pleasant enough to ride. The dappled grey, an older draft mare by the name Anna-Stiina, had been aching to get out for a trot, so naturally he’d obliged.

Had it been a mistake? Maybe.

Recent bad weather had not at least improved the roads that yet remained partly flooded as of the rapid arrival of Spring. Despite this, there had been plenty of people traveling to any which direction, on their errands as of the marginally better conditions to do so. For the past while, after he’d left the larger road, it had quieted down significantly. And gotten worse, what with the potholes.

One too many variables that had the potential to coalesce into a bit of a pickle. Which they had, as luck would have it, for a stranger.

The wagon lay severely tilted, two of it’s four wheels in the ditch. As he’d arrived, the lone woman at the site had been unloading the wagon in a rush, nearly throwing him with a chair before she’d realized him standing there. Anna-Stiina, possessing the nerves of a cow and the appearance of a ghost, had merely swished her tail at the noise of shuffled furniture. There had been a horse pulling the wagon, but it’s harness had broken and it had took off — as had the lady’s son, who she’d sent to look for the runaway animal. The young man hadn’t been seen for some time now.

Oliver really hadn’t wanted to tie Anna-Stiina to the front and make her pull the wagon up. She had retired from such a thing some years ago and even on their little trips he took turns off the saddle. Standing solidly in place, the horse hummed and nudged the back of his shoulder, rousing him back from thought.

His look rested on the treeline, watching the darkness that spread to both directions across the field, uncharted. Theoretically, if he went to look for the lad instead, there was great potential they’d walk past one another. In fact, he did figure it rather likely.

What am I — some ranger? No. He figured he might as well have sent Anna-Stiina alone to fetch him, for she at least had patience and an unrivaled sense of direction.

“ Let’s just push it. That was your original plan, was it not? “ He spoke of a sudden, trusting Anna-Stiina with her own reins and walking over to the edge of the road. As he peered down, he could feel the peasant’s look resting upon him, some disbelief in her frown. What had she said her name was — Inga?

“ We’ll be up to our knees in muck. “ She retorted, side-eyeing the mare that remained in a serene standstill.

“ Quite so. “ He responded matter-of-fact, measuring the waterline with his stare that remained effortlessly good-natured. “ I’m not going to injure the horse for this if I can avoid it — she is old. You understand. “

“ Begrudgingly. “ Inga responded in a toss of her hand, hitching up her skirts and jumping down from the bed of the wagon. She landed in a sharp scrape of dirt, dusting herself off as they both stood there, shoulder to shoulder. He’d folded his arms, which she did too like in some casual mockery.

It was terribly obvious they were both just delaying the inevitable. The water would be cold. And he had his better shoes on.

“ Well — “ He shrugged, bracing a palm against the wet, rotten grass and half-stepping half-sliding down to the bottom of the ditch. Flashing his best smile, he offered to help her down as well, which she welcomed by slapping his hand away. It did nothing to his grin.

She groaned with her entire body, throwing off her colourful shawl and rolling up her sleeves.

 

[Igni Ymaranath Ythys]

"What are you two doing down there?"

Igni stood with her hands on her more-than-ample hips at the top of the ditch, dressed in all her finery including a lovely red-and-orange dress whose trimming was only slightly caked in the mud of the road. It looked like she'd fallen from a fancy ball and straight onto the road, but without a hair out of place or a lace unstitched. Her plump face wore an expression of bemusement, as if she was the star of her play and all others were simply here to amuse her.

Inga looked up with an extremely sour expression, though her eyes widened when she saw the lady in all her finery. Perhaps she wanted to say what's it look like we're doing? But the words never formed on her slack lips.

"Horses are usually the animals that do this sort of work, you know," Igni added, less than helpfully. "There's one right there that might be of use. I would help, but I have delicate hands." She held up her small hands for inspection, and they were indeed small, despite the fact that the rest of her was truly immense. Or maybe it was simply that the immensity of the rest of her made her hands look decidedly small. Either way, it didn't look like the rural life was something she had ever experienced before.

 

[Oliver]

After some disproportionate grumbling, Inga had come down to join him. They’d taken a moment, settling down in their frigid domain to find footing in the mud so as to have something sold to push off of. He tried the half-submerged wheel experimentally, whilst Inga busied herself with cursing and searching for the perfect spot to put her shoulder into.

“ Alright, I think— “ He’d begun anew in a mutter, only to be cut off as a much clearer, entirely new voice called out from somewhere above. They both froze to attention, with varying levels of awe.

Now, how in the seven devils had she just sneaked up on them? Or rather, simply appeared — with an alarming amount of finery upon her and a disposition that only solidified the effect of self-assured regality. Instinctively, while Inga greeted the woman with a solid glare, Oliver took a quick look around for a possible means of transport.

There was none. A lady, dressed as this one was, traveling on foot? Unheard of.

He cleared his throat, watching as the newcomer pointed out the horse and his supposed idiocy therein. The very image of agreement, Inga redirected her disapproving stare at him in turn.

“ Yes, this is indeed a task for a draft animal. But sadly, Syr Knight here deemed the two of us more capable, preferring to spare his horse. “ She was gesturing at him with some drama and thoroughly enjoying it, by her tone. He merely shrugged his shoulder, ungalled.

“ The horse is a retiree. Her joints-- “

“ What about my joints! I’m but a poor mother, actively getting frostbite on my extremities in this gods-forsaken ditch. “ She gestured wildly now, making a face oft reserved to statues of martyr saints, righteous in her agony.

“ There’s a solution for that — we get to work. “ Oliver responded, rotating on his place in idle preparation. His subdued smile sustained as he looked at the colourful stranger from under his brow, landing an errant glance at the hands she’d opened for judgement. The hum he gave had a thoughtful and yielding depth.

“ Your hands are indeed delicate. And we aren’t entitled to your help, so — “ He shifted, glancing past the wagon. “ Consider yourself welcome to merely watch and give direction, should you be so inclined. " Unable to resist it, he winked, with some humour.

" Unless, of course -- you've a knack for retrieving wayward sons and runaway horses. "

 

[Igni Ymaranath Ythys]

Igni grinned more broadly.
"I am truly keen to see if you can manage this, Syr Green," she said, then stepped back to get out of the way.

At first his statement about runaway horses made no sense, it seemed the horse was right there. It took her an embarrassingly long time to put the pieces together that there was a second horse. One that was meant to be harnessed to the wagon.

"You're missing a horse and a son? Did they leave together?" She asked as they worked. Igni looked to their surroundings. With all the mud a decent tracker should be able to follow them. Or even a poor one. "They must have left prints. I'm not a tracker, but I gather between the three of us we can manage."

She paused a little longer, listening to them grunt and heave. The cart didn't move much at all. Another little grin crept across her plump face.

"Forgive my curiosity, but what colour is your son? Is he pink like his mother or green like his father? Or some combination of both, perhaps? Green with a tinge of pink, or vice-versa?"

 

[Oliver]

Syr Green. Hadn’t heard that particular one in a while.

Funny what being amongst one’s fellows did to ones memory, let alone patience. Reflecting, he watched the lady with a nondescript expression for a couple beats, before Inga’s crumbling again roused him to the present. And their task, which she was growing exponentially unhappy with.

“ Alright — “ His gaze averted as he turned, hands looking for a grip on the wagon while his heels twisted, digging into the mud. “ And go. “

They heaved. It was a pathetic nudge, one that reverted the moment they faltered, sliding back to the pit in great crumble of dirt. And hark — had it even gotten worse, by some miracle, now actively sinking? They barely heard the stranger speak as they glanced at one another in silent agreement to try again, then got to it.

“ Yes — “ Inga responded, both palms flat on the back of the cart. “ The horse got spooked, broke it’s harness and ran off. The lad went to fetch it. “

A meager improvement was slowly being achieved. That was, before Inga let out a bark of a laugh at the stranger’s assumption, having apparently deemed it outrageously funny or absurd. Instantly punished for having even a bit of fun, she lost her footing and slipped, scarcely avoiding a frontal contact with the ground. Watching her hiss as she righted herself, Oliver snorted and released his grip on the cart.

It remained only half as badly in the ditch, than when they’d begun. A small relief.

“ The lad looks like his mother — “ Inga responded belatedly, adjusting her gathered sleeves. “ If with darker eyes and hair. Don’t know if we’re under some serious hazard of mistaking anyone for him though— “

At her look that sought agreement, Oliver merely shrugged.

“ You’ll never know how many young men should've gone missing in those there woods at once, let alone right this moment. “ He said, equally deadpan, taking a couple long and careful steps to climb back to the road. One had to figure they weren’t getting anywhere with this dancing order — at present, anyway.

Facing the stranger, he mustered his casual smile anew and straightened.

“ Oliver. “ He greeted, indicating himself. “ I’d offer to shake hands, were mine not much too dirty for the occasion. “

 

[Igni Ymaranath Ythys]

Igni didn't fail to notice the orc knight's nondescript stare at her spontaneous moniker. She frowned back at him, in a display of momentary disappointment at his thin skin. But she said nothing. She listened to Inga's surprise, and put a plump little hand to her plump little lips when the countrywoman slipped over.

"Are you alright?"

As the orc knight climbed the bank she said, "Oh, you can't give up there. You were doing so well! Just a little more heave-hoing and you would have it, no?"

Still, she grinned up at the green fellow's offered smile, impressed by how tall he looked up close.

"Well, if you were truly a gallant knight you would know that shaking hands is no way to greet a lady." She grabbed her voluminous grey-red dress and curtsied, as if to show him how it was done - at least from her end. "I am Igni.
"And Oliver... is that another trick? Syr Oliver? A little more subtle than my assumption, but no less appropriate."

She looked back and forth between the couple, before saying to Inga:

"That would make you lady Oliver. Correct?"

 

[Alaric Wulf]

A sigh left the lips of the young lad as his horse moved beneath him. In the quickening of the evening, he had wanted to get home in a reasonable fashion, it seemed that wasn't going to happen. Why did it seem like he always had the worst luck. Still, as his horse trotted quietly, he couldn't help but admire what the rain did to the earth, how it made the world new again. He glanced up, a figure in the road appearing before him. As he got closer, it became clear it was a woman dressed in finery. It looked like he would most likely be spending his night on the road again.


Alaric stopped his steed short of the woman, and noticed that the issue at hand was more complex than he imagined. He slid from the saddle with a practiced grace as he strode over to the woman dressed in finery not fit for the road. He peered into the ditch where her gaze was fixated and he let a soft chuckle escape his lips. "Milady, if you'd like, there is a cloak in my saddle bag, the evening will be chill and I don't want a treasure such as yourself to freeze." He turned to the woman, a charming smile and small bow following.

With those words, he slid into the ditch, a much different grin on his face as he stepped through the muck. "Syr Oliver, what have you gotten yourself into?" He nodded to Inga, that charming smile on his lips again. "Perhaps another hand would be welcome? My horse is not the pulling sort, but the three of us should be able to manage without."

He noticed that the horse that belonged to this cart was not in sight, and he glanced at his fellow orc knight. He'd get the full story out of him, after they pulled this hunk of wood out of the muck. He nodded to both Oliver and Inga, and bent to work. If his father had been here, he would have just magicked it out, but alas
Alaric was not as talented.

Igni Ymaranath Ythys Oliver

 

[Oliver]

He watched her curtsy, smile sustaining despite the criticism she dealt him rather mercilessly. Thankfully, he was able to take it in stride, having never claimed himself the truly gallant type. Suppose he should’ve bowed then — all decorum, niceties and never half as honest as a good handshake.

Old bumpkin ways die hard. His look narrowed, some playful mischief in it, as this woman now introduced as Igni breathed another round of fire at him.

“ Another trick? “ He rose one brow, grin widening and baring teeth. “ Whatever was my first one, I wonder. “ Does inability to meet expectations count? And what exactly did she mean with no less appropriate. He found himself scrambling, inwardly, if with the ability to acknowledge the hilarity hidden somewhere in the core of the surrounding situation.

What a weird little day they were all having, currently.

“ You appear to take great pleasure in calling things out. I can respect it, brutally honest as it is. “ He gave a docile nod, stare fleeing from the lady to the peasant woman. The latter had returned to the bed of the wagon, looking for something amidst the contents of a large satchel. At the inquiry that came her way in turn, she snickered.

“ I am no lady. And he isn’t my husband. “

“ At least to the latter, I can attest. “ He confirmed, shrugging in feigned lamentation. Inga shook her head, closing the flap of the satchel and slinging it over her shoulder. It was only then, that she realized the horseman. Oliver had done so a moment before, having rotated to face his fellow knight that fast approached.

And what a way it was that the man did enter the fray. Oliver watched in awe as Syr Alaric made quick work of all his previous shortcomings, striking the perfect image of a knight if ever there was one to be observed. He held in the greater part of his amusement, reduced to silence until he was addressed in turn.

“ Chivalry is what— You know how it is, Syr Alaric. My gallant nature is my downfall, ending me in many a ditch. “ He spoke in mock severity, grin ratting out his actual disposition. Following pre-established trajectory, the other knight wasted no time taking charge and going straight to the thick of it, which he hadn’t an argument against.

“ Agreed. “ Acting on the affirmation, he joined Syr Alaric on his task. Yielding just a nod in greeting to the young man, Inga came down as well to lend a hand, some newly kindled hope on her face.

 

[Igni Ymaranath Ythys]

"The first trick was mine," Igni said, then thumped his shoulder, as if they were old friends. "You take me very seriously, Syr Olive. I mean no offense, and if I have cause against you you'll know it plain apart from playful jabs."

“ I am no lady. And he isn’t my husband. “

"Why in the world not?" Igni said, eyes wide with apparent surprise.

Just then she noticed the other rider approaching. A young man, appearing perhaps her own age, in proper armour trimmed with red. She elbowed Oliver in the side (gently, so as not to offend him further) and raised her eyebrows as if to say, this is how you knight.

Milady, if youd like, there is a cloak in my saddle bag, the evening will be chill and I dont want a treasure such as yourself to freeze.

Igni beamed at the compliment, honest or not. "I am fine, really," she said. "I barely feel the cold."

She watched as the trio arranged themselves on the boggier end of the cart, then thought there was something she could do after all: encourage them!

"Alright. Is everybody ready? One, two, three... heave!"

 

[Alaric Wulf]

It seemed to Alaric that the group assembled had spent more time hemming and hawing at each other, rather than solving the problem at hand. Though he didn't mind a jest here and there, it certainly seemed to bog them down as much as the cart was. Still, he liked Syr Oliver, as well as he could in the brief run ins they had had in the past. He seemed the decent sort, and the fact that he was down in the ditch doing his best with little help he had.

Alaric chuckled as Oliver returned his small jab, that grin appearing yet again as he nodded. "Indeed, it seems all of us knights suffer the affliction." He glanced at the woman beside him, lacking the finery of their other guest. "I figured you just wanted this beauty all to yourself." Charm and wit dripped from him like honey, he just couldn't help it. Perhaps it was the fae that ran through his veins.

He placed his palms against the coarse wood, and the other two joined him. With the encouragement of Igni beside them, they went to work. Much grunting and cursing would ensue, but Alaric could feel it start to budge. Every time they got it to move, it seemed the mud wanted to suck it back in. Alaric called a brief halt and scrambled back out of the ditch.

He disappeared into the trees and was gone for a few beats before returning with a couple stout branches in hand. He slid back down into the ditch and gave the cart a wry look. "Alright, I'm going to slide under and brace this as we push, keep the mud from pulling it back in. Please try not to crush me." He laughed softly and waited for the approval Oliver before crawling into the muck.

Oliver Igni Ymaranath Ythys

 

[Oliver]

— all to yourself.

He gave a hum at that, settling next to his fellow knight in a slosh of mud.

“ You’ve found me out, Syr Alaric. Simple as that. “ Add deduction to your talents, next to that fast charm. Why — the woman had been in the process of slowly picking him apart when an interruption had ridden in. She was more brazen and snappy than he had the wit to handle, ending him in need of saving rather than privacy. He’d make sure to thank Syr Alaric later for appearing so conveniently. Along with, you know, the prompt aid rendered.

The lady called and all three of them moved at once. Inga had one leg up on the side of the ditch, her entire weight leaned in an angle against straight arms. Oliver had taken a lower position, putting his shoulder to it and holding a lungful of breath in.

And yet, they still weren’t out of it.

He released his grip at once when Syr Alaric called for it, retreating a couple steps and exhaling sharply. Inga did the same, hands on her hips as she glared at the wagon like a woman about to set something on fire. While the newly appointed lead disappeared to the trees, without ceremony, Oliver scrambled up to the road in tune. He circled to the front of the vehicle, flashing an acknowledging smile at Igni on his way, and grabbed at one of the shafts to adjust the wheels. He had to put some effort in, but managed to turn them ever so slightly, straightening the angle they’d sunk into.

“ You’ve proven to have a keen eye, Lady Igni. “ He started again, head keeling as he regarded her. “ Mind making sure the wheels don’t lock up, should we get to moving— that they remain pointed ahead as is? “

With Syr Alaric’s figure appearing from the copse, he begun back to his battle station, giving Anna-Stiina a calming little pat on the neck on his way.

“ If they do indeed turn, a fierce little kick should be enough to right them. “ I’ve the impression you’ve one or two in you, if required. He continued in a wink, stepping down, one hand on the back wheel for steadiness.

“ Unless of course, that is beyond what befits a Lady. In which case, do forgive my insolence. “ It was light-hearted enough, spoken through a smirk as he bowed his head. I wouldn’t know. He had never met a woman that claimed some higher status in whatever mess they were currently in. What was propriety as the polite society knew it, out here and knee deep in mud.

His stare escaped, attaching to Alaric who was returning, giving further instruction. He found himself nodding to the industrious plan, the concluding request prying a snort from him.

“ Your heroism is a credit to the entire realm — that you should so readily sacrifice your garments, let alone risk death. “ Oliver responded in good enough humour, tapping the man on the shoulder for good luck.

“ We’ll do our darnest to spare you, believe you me. “

Behind Alaric, Inga had a hard time not rolling her eyes at all this lollygagging. Oliver kept his smile, slinging his attention at Lady Igni.

“ Feel free to count us down, M’lady. “

 

[Igni Ymaranath Ythys]

"Oh, good idea," Igni said when Syr Alaric started positioning the sticks. She was enjoying his attention, to the point she felt a little inexplicably jealous when his attention turned to Inga! Foolish, she thought, admonishing herself. She was better than that.

When Syr Oliver approached her she gave him her usual beaming smile.

"Kicking things is generally beneath the station of a lady, though for you, I can certainly kick a cartwheel," Igni said with a cheerful smile. She tested her dress and the multitudes of folded fabric beneath to make sure she could find her feet - not easy for a lady of her immense girth - and practiced a few test swipes for good measure.

“ Feel free to count us down, M’lady. “

Igni gave one last look at the two horses standing idly on the road, but then grinned. She'd much rather watch the men push the cart out of the ditch anyway. Though she did feel sorry for poor Inga. For the second time in as many minutes she said:

"On three. One, two, three!"

 

[Alaric Wulf]

Syr Oliver was being of good nature, if not a bit passive aggresive to the Lady Igni. While he wasn't too keen on crawling in the mud, his sense of duty outweighed the distaste. He turned with that charismatic smile to Lady Igni and gave her a short bow. "It is a honor to have you help, though it is clearly below your station. We are fortunate to have you here." He gave Inga a small bow as well, cheeky lad that he was.

Syr Oliver responded to Alaric with enough good humor to almost be offensive. Alaric grinned in response, a chuckle escaping his lips. "It would be a very boring end, that much I know. Here lay Syr Alaric, crushed by wagon." He chuckled again and shook his head as Oliver tapped his shoulder lightly. Perhaps a drink when all was said and done would hit the spot. Well, a drink of lemon tea perhaps. The lad had yet to have a proper ale, usually something a father does with his son..he grimaced slightly and wormed his way underneath the cart to being stabilizing the damn thing.


Alaric heard Igni make the call, and he worked in tandem to stabilize the cart while they pushed. Inch by slow inch they were making headway. Alaric was cold and wet from the mud, grunting and panting as he strained against the weight of the cart. They were gonna get this hunk of wood unstuck if it was the last thing he did.

Oliver Igni Ymaranath Ythys

 

[Oliver]

For me? Consider me honoured.

A glint of amusement in his eye, he watched the lady adjust for possible participation, dress alive about her movements in further confirmantion. His smile widened for a beat in time, to signify satisfaction, before it was done away again as his attention dropped to Syr Alaric.

The young man wasted no time going under, terribly nonchalant all the way to his epitaph. Prudently enough, the rest of them weren’t too far upon his heel, the count of three commanding action in quick succession. He held a chestful of breath In, expression severe with effort.

He wasn’t above admitting that Syr Alaric’s plan was working. The clever lad. Somewhere to his right, he could hear Inga growling through clenched teeth, despite the fact they were making great progress. The other front wheel crested the edge of the ditch, entering solid ground in a wet crackle. With only one wheel remaining properly off-road, the wagon tilted, ending one corner airborne. Inga watched with some horror as the rough wood escaped from beneath her hands, remaining wide-eyed even as the vehicle seemed to balance.

The sudden shift in weight threw his footing some, but not enough.

“ You alright down there, Syr Alaric? “ He asked, if only to fill the empty air betwixt them whilst he slinged a rather urging glare at Inga who fast recovered. She jumped back to the task and put her remaining strength to it, forcibly emboldened.

Anna-Stiina gave a low neigh, distancing a couple lazy steps like in feigned fright as the wagon finally made it to the road entire. Inga gave a loud roar of victory, throwing both her fists in the air with enough momentum she nigh toppled over and back to the mud. Oliver hadn’t in himself but to release one great breath and draw another to replace it.

“ I commend you for your innovation. “ He spoke at his fellow knight, deadpan for serious measure and offering a hand to help the man up, if need be. “ If anything, I've become thoroughly convinced one ought be traveling alongside you more often. “ Taking the things I tend to get myself into, as you’ve put it.

“ Thank you so much, Syr. “ Giddy with their success, Inga took Syr Alaric’s hand and squeezed it, restraining her will to outright hug him.

“ And M’lady. “ Oliver added, bowing his head in a smile at Igni.

 

[Igni Ymaranath Ythys]

"Oh, well done all!" Igni said, clapping with her little plump hands. She hadn't needed to kick a wheel, which was good as she wasn't convinced she would have stayed upright. Then she looked left and right at the mounts standing patiently nearby. "And all done without troubling a single horse! What an amazing feat. Perhaps we don't need horses after all, if people can accomplish so much. Think of the fodder we'd save.

"Anyway. Should we turn our attention to recovering the missing? Your son and horse, no?" She looked to Oliver as she said this. He was still heaving from the effort of pushing the cart. "Your other horse I mean. It should be easy to follow their footsteps in all this mud. I will try, though if anyone has better experience at tracking then please do take the lead."

She turned to Inga. "Which way did they go?"

 

[Alaric Wulf]

Concentrated effort was made by all three participants, and all that was heard were the grunts and exhales as they worked. With sudden and panicking movement, the cart shifted and Alaric braced himself to be crushed. Thankfully, this did not happen, and Alaric kept breathing a tad bit longer. Syr Oliver was quick to call out to him, but all he managed was a grunt in response.

Eventually, the wagon was righted and back where it belonged. A weary Alaric fell back and lay in the cold, wet mud. He was already considerably filthy and would be spending hours later cleaning his armor. Blue eyes glanced up at Syr Oliver as he extended a hand. He gripped it firmly and together hoisted him up and on his feet. The lad let out a chuckle as he caught the tail end of Inga's celebration.

"I have seen it done before, but have never practiced the art of wagon freeing." He gave Oliver a cheeky grin, and looked away, slightly disconcerted at the praise from the other knight. "If ever you are in need of company on the road, I'm more than happy to oblige." He was having a hard time being personable, the cold weight of mannerisms learned from being a generals son getting in the way. The men were soon interrupted by an enthusiastic Inga, she seemed to barely be able to contain herself she was so relieved. "It was an effort hard won by our little group together milady." He smiled at the woman with humility on his tongue.


Alaric blinked slowly as Igni spoke of someone missing. A horse obviously wasn't in attendance, but he hadn't realized there was a boy involved. "Yes, I agree. There are creatures around that would make quick work of a boy or a horse." He glanced between both ladies, his brow furrowed. "Perhaps Igni, Syr Oliver could loan his steed to you?" He was worried about the women being on foot. He himself had just come back from slaughtering a mutated beast, beasts that were overlarge and dangerous. No, if they needed to fight, the ladies should have means to escape. He took Inga's hand and gestured to his own horse. "You can have a seat upon mine, let me help you up."

Alaric turned to look at Syr Oliver, his lips set in a grim line. It was very possible horse and lad were dead, something he was sure Oliver had thought of too. They would have to speak quietly about it when the women were situated.

Oliver Igni Ymaranath Ythys

 

[Oliver]

He missed none of the sarcasm in Igni’s congratulations, giving her but a weary look that lingered even as the subject shifted. His expression did gain an edge of newfound amusement, bending to a conspiratorial smile as the Lady reminded their collective awareness of an assumption she seemed desperate to uphold.

Did he truly appear that compatible with any which random peasant woman he had met not an hour prior, in his unassuming dress and peculiar manners, or was it simply that this Lady was just too dang proficient at sniffing out the farmer’s blood in him.

Either way, he was fresh out of cruelty to participate in whatever ruse he had the mind for initially, even just to amuse himself.

“ Not my horse and not my son, am sad to proclaim. “ He gave a subdued shake of his head, shoulders rising in a shrug. “ But you are correct — we ought to search for them. “ His stare shifted, landing on Inga who had approached to a more personable conversing distance. She pointed out a direction — the woods that lay across a narrow field, on a gentle incline.

There wasn’t even a breeze moving through the air that stood still and stale like a puddle of swamp water, with corresponding odor that consumed all else. Watching the gradual darkness betwixt the trees and noting the silence therein, he couldn’t but feel something like dread creep upon him.

Best case scenario — the horse got caught up by its bridle and the kid merely twisted his leg, as such being prevented from returning at haste. The worst —

Well. There it is.

His attention snapped to Syr Alaric in a frown as the man voiced what he’d only been entertaining in the privacy of his mind. What was more, he continued into a rather— curious proposition.

“ Why? Do you truly think it that dangerous out here? “ Inga asked the knight, masking her anxiety with disbelief. It fell in line with the rest of her that proposed steadfast defiance, if only for she had lived here all her life and wasn’t inclined to take quick advice from a man half her age.

“ I’ll say am more likely to snap my neck riding — I haven’t done it in years. “

Having grown deadpan, Oliver blinked, head keeling as he glanced sidelong at Igni. Unlike his hastier companion, who had already taken the peasant woman by the hand, he didn’t make a move to urge any which direction. It wasn’t that he had anything against the trajectory, only the patronizing and presumptuous part of it.

“ Are you of the mind to ride, M’lady? “ He asked, genuine in his inquiry.