And so, this strange company of fellows set off. A prairie dog, who was a cleric with a soul devoted to the light of Balan, and who was gifted with the rare ability to see the events of one's current future. A groundhog heiress who was the most skilled Greataxe warrior in all Mintara, but who was clueless with other weapons. A daughter of the Otter people's highest political figure, who was a prodigy amongst prodigies, with her telekinetic ability known as the Archer's thread. And...Donovan. The young marten, who while slowly was beginning to understand the way people thought about one another on this continent. And who was beginning to get a grasp on the social and political complexities which existed between them, and which affected their reactions to one another; was still at a loss, as to how he was supposed to fit in amongst these three great and well known Mintaran legends.
He was after all, just a migrant from a far-off island that very few had even heard of. To think he'd be traveling with companions like these. Adventurers which nearly every Mintaran knew the name of, and whose names were probably sung by bards all over the continent...
Donovan sighed, as they neared a tavern. The four of them deciding it would be okay to stop for a quick meal and drink, as the destination they sought was close by. And it would not do, if they had to fight off an enemy, and did not have the strength to do so.
The marten looked up at the sign of the roadside tavern as he and his companions approached. "The Idle weasel," he said with a chuckle. "Huh. Well, that's ironic. I guess it should be fitting then, that a weasel like myself should stop here, huh?" Donovan after making this joke, then fell silent as he realized no one was laughing. A solemn reaction, which disturbed him a bit. As he stated quietly and concern in his voice to his companions, "Hey... Uh...What's wrong? Why so grim all of a sudden, was it um...Was it something I said?" The marten sincerely hoping he had not accidentally offended his colleagues, then was reassured by Colin who stepped forward, and who gently laid a paw on the young lad's shoulder, as he answered his question with a warm smile. The prairie dog in reply, responded with, "Nay, lad. Yeh' didn't say anything wrong. We just reacted the way we did. Because of all the places fer' us tah' have tah' stop at, this one can be the most off puttin'."
"Oh?" Donovan rubbed the back of his head. "Why?" he asked in confusion. "It's just a tavern. What's disturbing or off-putting about that?"
Kysandra chuckled as she interjected. "Because," she stated. "It's not just a tavern, like you so simply put it. This tavern, the Idle Weasel, is run by a badger named Hilde. It's been a thorn in my mother's side, for a while now. And she and Hilde, do not always find themselves on the best of terms. Mostly, because this tavern acts as not only a resting spot for your typical clientele, but also for the more unsavory members of Mintaran society. Pirates, revolutionaries, highway bandits and solicitors, just to name a few. The tavern itself, is outside the limits of any city or capital occupied by the influence of the Solmani Empire and its Pentarchy. So unfortunately, my mother can't do anything about rooting up this unsavory blight from our otherwise pleasant and beautifully structured nation."
Gemma chuckled. "Eh, that's your opinion," she murmured as she winked to Donovan, and nodded for him to follow behind her, into the tavern. "As long as yeh' don't look anyone directly in the eye, or ask about their business, I find this place to be a rather fine establishment, myself. Ah' mean, Kysandra's right. It is frequented often by some unsavory types which you definitely want tah' try tah' avoid interactin' with when you're in here. But aside from that, I think they have far superior food and drink, in comparison to the tripe which is offered in most of those fancy Otter eateries, that they dare to call a tavern."
Kysandra scoffed. "Maybe that just goes to show, that you as a groundhog don't have a refined enough palate for our kind of cuisine," she stated with a smirk as her words flowed forth slowly, clearly and succinctly. Her tone rising and falling slightly, in an almost musical fashion, it was reminiscent to a Colombian accent, as Donovan who still was standing between Gemma and Kysandra, then managed to slip out of the way before Gemma immediately turned toward the otter and got up and personal with her. A fire burning in her eyes, which was hotter than even the fires that had forged her armor and two-bit axe, as she growled at the otter, "Oh...you did not just say what I think you said."
"And if I did?"
Gemma smirked as well. "Then I have a challenge for you," she growled. "We go in here. And we each have to order a dish for the other, which is native to our lands."
Kysandra paled a little. "Prophet's guidance..." she swore, "You mean..."
"I mean exactly such a thing," Gemma said, a devious look in her eyes. "We want to understand one another better, right? Well, this is my challenge. You have to eat a dish native to my race, I have to eat a dish native to your race. It's like Donovan said. It's only fair, if we are both on even ground, right? Well, what is your response? Will you do it, or are you too much of a newborn Yakobi to accept the challenge?"
Kysandra's face flushed red.
"Bartender!" She said marching into the tavern. "Get me a Bristlespine Ale and quarter ounce Yakobi steak!" This announcement, then drew a few startled and confused stares, from some of the otter patrons, and a very perplexed glare from the bartender, who'd never expected to hear such an order from the heir to the throne of reeds, of all people. Not, that it really mattered, as he was still getting paid for the service. So shrugging it off, he went to prepare the order while Gemma, Colin and Donovan, took their seats next to Kysandra. The badger who was the bartender, after about 8 and a half minutes, then returned with the ale and a medium well Yakobi sirloin steak. The aroma of the meat almost overwhelming Gemma, as she could smell its flavor mixed with Aguanadan Desert salt and with the finest of ground spices. A tantalizing flavor, which truly almost made her want the steak and ale for herself. That is, until she remembered her part of the bargain. A fact she was somewhat regretting, as she motioned the bartender over. The groundhog ready to order her meal, whilst Kysandra tried to figure out, how to attack the monster she'd ordered.
"I want..." Gemma said with a sigh. "I want a goblet of Solmani wine, A pentarchy cress salad..." the groundhog cringed at these words, "and a grilled marsh trout."
The bartender snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. "You...you got it," he said, hurrying back to the kitchen, as he received a death glare, from the mistress of the axe. Gemma after this incident, then also took note of a group of fellow groundhogs who were laughing as well. They, to whom she swiftly turned and snapped, "It is not funny!" Silencing them, as they realized who it was they were laughing at.
"Oh...L-Lady Gemma," one of them, stated bowing his head reverently. "W-We apologize. We did not realize it was you. The daughter of the Weemuskhan, she who is to become the next chief of chiefs of the Agatan Disciplist Groundhogs. Please, greatest apologies our lady. We just...would never have expected the greatest warrior of our people to make such an order. It's not exactly...the meal of champions. Hehe..."
"Silence."
The other groundhogs sank in their seats, as Gemma ordered them to cease their teasing. She then stated, "You fools. You do not even understand why I do this. You think courage is only displayed on the battlefield? That it is displayed only when blade meets blade or when iron meets iron? No. I do this, because I am willing to display a different kind of courage. A courage which says, I will put pride aside for humility. That I will put aside prejudice for open-mindedness, and that in this first act, of sharing a meal with my new otter compatriot Kysandra. In being willing to eat the food of her people, and in her willingness to eat the food of ours, we are thus taking the first steps to opening the doors of acceptance which have so long been closed between groundhog and otter. I say to you...I have learned today, it is not impossible for otter and Groundhog to coexist. Call me a fool, a lunatic, even a heretic, if you like. But what has been started here with a simple exchange of food and words, will continue when Kysandra and I are the rulers of our respective nations. Together...we will work to bridge the gap that we now see has existed between Groundhog and otter for far too long. Is that not right Kysandra?"
Kysandra needed a moment to take all this in. "I..." she murmured. "I suppose it is, yes." The otters in the tavern then gasped and whispered at hearing such a declaration from the daughter of their highest leader. Kysandra in turn, then turned and gave them a disgusted glare. "Oh, get over yourselves," she snapped. "We all know Gemma is right. This stupid dispute between groundhog and otter...I mean, does anyone really even know what started it anymore? It's ridiculous. The whole thing...it's based on prejudices that are outdated, that are assumed, and as far I'm concerned, yes. Can go away. And if you were to ask me, yes. I will work just as hard to bridge the gap between our peoples when I'm Lod'zhak, as Gemma will when she's Weemuskhan. And if anyone can't deal with that...tough!" she exclaimed, marching out of the tavern, before marching back in, and placing a coin down on the bar.
"Sorry," she apologized to the bartender. "Forgot to pay, in the heat of things. By the way, can I get that to go? That's actually a really good steak. Far better than I thought it would be."
The bartender nodded.
"One moment," he said, as he left with the meal, and then came back with it, boxed up.
"Thanks," Kysandra, said, as she took the box. Nodding for the others to follow, as she once more departed from the tavern. Gemma, being the first to run after Kysandra, then called to her, "Ey, Kysa! That act in there, about marching out, then marching back in and declaring that the steak was wonderful, and you wanted to take it with you? That was frosty brilliant!"
"Oh?"
Kysandra smiled. "Well, glad you think so," she said, maintaining her composure, as Donovan and Colin joined on Holly and Ivy, behind them. "Truth be told," she said. "It wasn't entirely an act. I mean...honestly, I really did think it was an excellent steak, and really did want to take it with me, for later. I wasn't lying about that."
"Wait, what?"
Donovan and Colin called "Yeel!" to the frondeer, for them to stop, as Kysandra and Gemma stopped short. Kysandra as they all stopped, thus continued saying, "Oh, no. No, it wasn't an act. I really truly enjoyed that steak, far better than I thought I would. Truth be told...I honestly am starting to think, a lot of what I've been told about Groundhogs, may have been prejudice based fabrications, just like you were saying Gemma."
"What...really?"
Kysandra nodded. "I...I've been pondering it for awhile," she murmured, "Whether I truly believe these outdated prejudices which are the basis for so much of the distrust that exists between the groundhog and otter races. Or, do I just go along with it, because it's something the people have come to expect of their leaders. And to do otherwise, is to invite surefire disfavor from those who support us?"
Gemma shrugged and sighed, as she resumed walking. The groundhog as she started back up, gave a nod to Kysandra and the others, to follow. "I think," I get where you're coming from," she said as she listened to the hoofbeats of Holly and Ivy clickety-clacking behind her and Kysandra. "What you said back there, it's not just about ending this silly dispute between our peoples. This...this is about Lexyana and Corian, isn't it?"
Kysandra shot a glare to Gemma. "No," she said pulling away. "I...I don't even know who you're talking about. I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Kysa..."
Gemma reached forward, as if intending to gently touch the otter's shoulder, but the otter instead walked at a faster pace, stepping out of reach. The groundhog in consequence, then just sighed. For she knew, it was not her, that the otter was running from. It was a ghost in their past. A guilty conscience, shared by both of them; by both the groundhog and the otter, for a sin neither of them would ever feel fully redeemed for. That day of inaction, which Gemma herself had tried to forget for years. She recalled the words laid down by her mother Agata, after it had been found out that Gemma's son Corian, had been courting in secret, the daughter and eldest child of the Otter Lod'zhak, Lexyana Wasserfjord.
Gemma shed a small tear, as he recalled the way her son had looked to her for help, and like a coward, she'd just stood there, silent, as her mother stripped him of all right to the throne. From, all his rights as an heir, she had banished him from Fortress-under-Blackrock and from the entire Bristlespine Mountain region. His punishment, that he should suffer death, should he ever return from exile. Gemma thinking about this, clenched her fists, as she could only imagine what Kysandra must be going through. For she knew that otter exile customs went a step further. She knew, according to tradition. Kysandra could no longer speak, Lexyana's name. She could no longer even think it. As far as any otter was concerned, Kysandra had only ever had one child, her youngest, Dexton Wasserfjord. Her daughter Lexyana, had never existed.
Gemma sighed as she watched Kysandra march off a ways. She could only imagine, what the young otter must be going through. Having to deny Kysandra was hers, or even that she knew her, anytime the name came up. The pain of just wanting to end these silly divisive traditions, so she could look her daughter in the eye, and to say she did this because she knew of no other way to repent for what she'd done. To show she wanted to heal the wound she'd allow to be created and which she'd allowed to fester between them...Gemma smiled solemnly. The groundhog came to the conclusion it was best to let Kysandra be alone for now. She knew Kysandra well enough, to be able to say that when the otter was ready, that she would rejoin the party. However, until then, it was best to leave her be. That is, unless you were that crazy type of individual, who actually savored the thought of getting a projectile thrown at you by means of Telekinesis.
No, Gemma knew better. She knew, to just leave things be, as she turned back to Donovan and Colin who seemed to be having some kind of discussion with one another, while mounted on Holly and Ivy.
"Hey!" She called up to the two of them. "What's going on?"
"Hush!"
"Huh?"
Colin shook his head, motioning with his hand, for Gemma to keep quiet, as he looked around. "Ah' was tellin' Donovan," he whispered, "That Ah' think we're bein' followed. Possibly," he added, "from now, all the way back tah when we left the Idle Weasel."
"And you didn't think to say anything?" Gemma growled, as she reached behind for her battleaxe. "Alright," she snarled. "No time for complaints, now. Where are they? I'll take them out, before they can even get a word back to their master. That's a promise!"
Colin shook his head. "No!" he exclaimed. "You misunderstand. I don't want them gone. I feel I know their purpose, and I think we can use it to our advantage."
"Huh?"
Donovan smiled. "Colin thinks," he explained, our little spy, is Dylan Frostwood. An ermine, he and I met when we were aboard the Hoarfrost's Halberd. The ship captained by Ghulius Gutgore, the greedy if not arrogant and bullish polar bear, who first put us onto this quest."
"Go on..."
"Ghulius," Colin continued, "has been doin' everything he can, to totally this bejank this quest, from the very beginnin'. He gave us only three months to find the tomb and treasure of Aloysius St. Abbot. A feat which in total, has been attempted by a number of adventurers for a magnitude of years now, and which still has not been achieved."
"He also made sure, that we would barely have enough time to form the proper size party," Donovan added. A fact which compiled on what Colin just mentioned, then means we should not put it past him to send his consort and best spy, to try to sabotage our success in one way or another. Correct?"
Gemma nodded. "Correct," she replied. "Though...still not seeing how we can use her to our advantage. You mind explainin' in more detail Colin, what exactly it is, you intend to do?"
Colin chuckled. "But of course," he replied. " 'Tis quite simple, really. Knowin' the mind of Gutgore, he probably sent Dylan to insert herself into our little group by any means necessary."
"And her chosen means...?"
"Seduction." Colin stated plainly. " Knowin' Dylan, she probably intends to charm the member of our group, who is most susceptible to her wiles. That person, then bein' Donovan."
"Yeah...wait what!?"
Donovan turned wide eyed to Colin. "Hey," he exclaimed. "We never discussed me having to be the bait, I thought it was going to be you!"
"Me?" Colin laughed. "Please lad," he replied. "I appreciate your faith in my ability to outbeguile the beguiling, but please. Maxine would kill me, if I involved myself with another woman, even for the sole purpose of gaining her confidence and getting her to slip up. Nay, this has tah' be your task and yours alone, lad. Your single. Handsome. And you already have an established relationship with her. Albeit, if a somewhat short one."
"Excuse me?"
Colin smirked. "I'm referrin' to the ship, lad." He stated. "To the Hoarfrost's Halberd. Your encounter with her there...I could tell then that she took a special kind of notice of you. That, she not only noticed you for your own infatuation with her, but also the way you seemed fascinated with history, academia, and the knowledge that the world has to offer. In a word, she finds that big brain of yours, very attractive." Colin said with a chuckle, as he gently tapped a finger against Donovan's left temple. "And I believe," he added, "She's more likely to let her guard down, if you use that brain of yours to your advantage, when speaking with her. Would you agree, Gemma?" Colin asked, turning then to their groundhog compatriot, who smiled softly at the idea proposed by the prairie dog.
"Oh," she stated in her Norwegian accent, "Yes, I very much agree, Colin. I mean, I don't know much about this Dylan Frostwood, other than the rumors I've heard people tell about her. Rumors, which pretty much align with what I've heard you and Colin say about her just now. That she's sly, clever, manipulative, and ever so dangerous if you don't watch your back around her. I mean, what I'm trying to say is, if you really are sure it's her, then it quite possibly wouldn't be all that bad of an idea for Donovan to show off his brain as much as possible, and to try and lure her in, so we can at least keep an eye on her. My mother did always tell me after all, that when out hunting any creature, you want to bait them with the one thing they cannot resist. In this case, as you put it, Colin. That one thing seems to be a single, handsome, intellectually curious, young marten."
Donovan cast a dry, unamused glare at Gemma. "Gee, thanks." he replied. "Glad to know, you have such both have such a high opinion of me. I'd take it as a compliment, if I didn't know you were both so willing to send me into the lion's den. Anything else I need to know, before I do this?" he asked with a sigh. His companions' response, they simply chuckled at his dry humor. For they were glad to see he was taking a light-humored approach to what could be a very dangerous task.
"Just be safe, and stay alert," Colin stated, as he nodded for Colin to get going. "Yeh' know already, what Miss Frostwood can be like. She plays a good act, but has got the wit of a serpent, and enough venom in her heart to match. All Ah' ask is yeh' stay aware to her, that yeh' get her to join us without raising any suspicions to yourself, and as ah've already said, stay safe, okay?"
Donovan gave a slight nod, in recognition of the prairie dog's concerned words. "Okay," he replied in a quiet voice of his own. "I will."
"Good. Hike!" The prairie dog declared, giving Holly a slap on the rump, to send the Frondeer which Donovan was riding and the marten mounted atop the deer, on the way to their task. Balan, how he prayed as the marten rode off, that all went according to plan. They did not need a hitch. Not now.