Private Tales The Viper of Vestia

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

The travel wasn't great. They were supposed to be sneaky, but given that those who would care would only be from Vestia, Farrell failed to understand why they had to refrain from horses. However, even considering that, the land of Campania was much more friendly to travel than that Alliria, or so he had read in a book or two. Plus, Gild was very isolated from other greater powers, and thus didn't have the type of economy that was good for expansion. All this to say that it was small enough to be a bit quicker of a trek.

If Farrell's geography didn't fail him, he saw a river and guessed they had arrived at the Sakin, a border river. Night by now, and the burbling of the river provided a pleasant backdrop for whatever would go down tonight. It wasn't quite the most pleasant place to gather, granted, but all the stories he had ever read set such a site as realistic. "Almost like we're in an adventure book." he mused a little bit. He guessed that given the setup so far, the Vestians would stay on their side of the river and they to theirs until agreements were made.

Just then he heard the loading of a crossbow and turned, already sure of who it was. He waited for Jerick to attempt to talk Castulo down before tossing in his own two cents, unsure exactly what the mercenary had planned. "Keep it away, Castulo. Loaded but away, like on your belt or something. No great diplomacy ever started with an arrow in the other party's face." he said, realizing that though what he said made sense, it was a bit weaker in this scenario.

They had, of course, begun their day negotiating peacefully with a man who had just been punched in the face by the very same mercenary now planning to threaten the Viper's right hand with a weapon.

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"I know," said Castulo, "which is why I'm making sure we don't get any arrows in our faces."

Jerick faced the Gildans and, coming to agree with Farrell, said impatiently, "No one's getting shot in the face. We've got the cover of darkness on our side, and plenty of forest around here. We'd see and hear any mounted patrols long before they even knew about us, if there even are any about. And most importantly, I don't get paid if this deal doesn't work out, so I'm inclined to get you there nice and safe."

Castulo glanced over to Farrell and, giving way to a compromise, said, "I'll keep it low. Low and relaxed." And he did so, holding the crossbow down by his waist at a downward angle, his hand off the trigger mechanism.

Jerick pointed up the river then. "I reckon we just have to go a little more north from here. We can stick close to the river. Even in the dark I know what I'm looking for, where we turn east. Bit of a hidden path in the brush."

"So we cross here?"

"Yeah, we cross here. I know my side of the river more than this side."

Castulo groaned. "Wet boots. I hate wet boots."

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell sighed in relief at the fact that Jerick had at least slightly joined his side of things. It wasn't as though the boy failed to understand Castulo's concern, but his thought process was that if they were in any danger, this all felt like a nice little waste of time. He couldn't imagine someone like the Viper would randomly pick a Gildan or two to kill, what with how he already had one nation on his trail. Of course, that hinged on the idea that they would be graceful guests, a fact that seemed more obvious to him than his companion.

"Fine. Thank you, Castulo." he said, turning back to face the road. As far as mercenaries went, he was willing to bet Castulo was one of the nicer ones. In truth, it wasn't as if he would have been able to do anything if he had just refused. Quieting down, he looked at Jerick's upraised finger and then at the river they were soon to be crossing. He silently nodded at Castulo's expressed disgust, also loathing the idea of a discussion where they had to stand in wet shoes.

"Right then. Let's get this over with, shall we?" he asked Jerick, extending his hand out to indicate "lead the way".

Rogue Castulo Arnal

 

[Rogue Castulo Arnal]

"Yeah, the sooner we slosh across this river, the sooner my precious little feetsies can get dry again."

"Don't let some cold water scare you away from big money, Gildie," said Jerick.

"Ha, ha, fuck you, Vestie."

And then down to the river's edge they went. Jerick led the way and Castulo followed. Hardly was the River Sakin any true obstacle, not like the River Sulh which ran through the city of Gild, for the Sakin at its deepest only reached to one's knees, or slightly above. Gently did the water run, and if the ears didn't provide enough testimony of this, then surely one's legs in the fording did so. A wide river, the Sakin, but little else proved imposing about it.

Out on the other side, Castulo gave either leg a good shaking. Jerick looked back to him and said, "See, that wasn't so bad."

Castulo grinned. "Bitchin's fine, that's fun to do, but being a bitch isn't. So don't get too bundled up about me and my complaining—it's like giving myself a massage with words."

"Sure, just—" Jerick stubbed his toe on a rock nestled in the ground, and he yelped sharply and hobbled for a moment and hissed, "Ah shit, fuck, damn the luck!"

Castulo snickered and then whapped Farrell's shoulder with the back of his hand and then pointed to the spectacle of Jerick. "See that? He's getting it. A massage with words."

Quaestor Farrell Leguin

 

[Quaestor Farrell Leguin]

Farrell simply laughed dryly at the two of them. "You fellas sure are something. I would call you two a married couple, but it's worse." he stated with a smile. It was fun to see that his compatriots in this potentially deadly endeavor were as relaxed as one reasonably could be. The boy was also buoyed himself by the thought of future "big money", a motivation that while shallow was likely common. Jerick led the way and Farrell followed behind Castulo. It was actually a rather relaxing experience to walk through the water, the calm rush-bubble of the river Sakin doing wonders for the nerves.

Farrell busied himself while Jerick and Castulo furthered their bromance with shaking water out of his own shoes, listening as Castulo gave a speech about how he liked to complain. Well, everyone had their own way of relaxing, Farrell supposed. It seemed that the intended effect was supposed to be that of screaming off a cliff and all that. Jerick appeared to have comment, but never got the chance. He seemingly hit a rock and began hopping around for a moment, causing the boy to cringe in sympathy.

He had done something similar but it had been a table leg, and the sheer amount of pain from such a weak hit could only be described as momentarily excruciating. However, his sympathy was soon overtaken by a slightly too loud laughter. He barely registered Castulo's slap on the back and manage to stifle his giggles. "Not....Funny. Sorry. That's not fun to go through. It's just, you were rhyming so enthusiastically." he attempted to explain, forcing back any hint of humor that could appear on his face.

Rogue Castulo Arnal