The sound of crackling fire and deepening night greets him as Arthir lays out the map on the ground beside him, using the light from the fire to trace its intricacies. There were so many coordinates and symbols on the map, a lot more than he had thought, and they each pointed out a series of routes and clues that were hidden, leading to the next location.
Arthir focuses much of his attention on the scanned map and compares it against the cryptic symbols and notes the old mechanism produced. The symbols indicate that location 2 has extensive symbology at that location with a series of interconnected pathways; it would thus appear to be some form of ancient fortress or stronghold that is guarded by barriers-both physical and magical. The map also speaks to the environmental dangers like extreme temperatures or unstable terrain, which would impede access to this fortress. He also mentally files away any clues and artifacts that might lead him through the stronghold and recognizes that he must learn the configuration of the fortress, with all its defenses, if he is to ever locate the Almanac.
He proceeds with reworking the map, adding his notes and deciding on a course of action, but he does not remove his eyes from Viola, who was still unconscious yet appeared to be relatively stable. The peaceful surroundings provided a preoccupation and a moment for reflection and preparation. Having stowed the map away, Arthir sets about cooking a hot meal for when Viola awakens. He knows the situation could get a little tense, she could turn hostile waking up in an unfamiliar place with a stranger.
Arthir readies his cooking utensils, grateful that he had stocked up beforehand in preparation of this adventure. He starts preparing a light, yet filling meal, selecting just the type of ingredients that go easy on the stomach after what they had gone through. The hot food fills the air as it combines with the natural smells of the valley.
While dinner is stewing, Arthir continually looks over to check on Viola, who hasn't budged from unconsciousness. He hopes this small gesture of a warm meal may relax any tension upon waking. The crackling of the fire and the soft bubbling of the meal create such a soothing atmosphere, in extreme contrast to the dangers they've just come from. Arthir can't help but briefly flutter his mind onto the journey ahead.
Firelight twists and contorts across the campsite as Arthir readies two portions of the meal, setting one beside Viola, but keeping the other to himself. He then places himself near enough that he is within her line of sight upon awakening, but not so close as to pressure or scare her.
Suddenly, Viola's golden eyes flicker open. For a moment she is taut, her instincts instantly on guard, but before she can wholly respond, Arthir pipes up. He moves closer to her, as though speaking to a small child, his voice light and an inviting murmur.
"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he says tongue-in-cheek. "Figured after a ride like that one, you could stand to have something warm in the belly to eat. It's not laced with anything—just a bit of hospitality."
He motioned to the meal prepared, his posture casual. "I promise it's not poisoned. I didn't go through all that trouble to save you, just to knock you out with bad cooking."
Arthir's tone is playful but not belittling; confident, yet approachable. He doesn't press too hard, giving Viola space to understand her surroundings and his words as he takes a bite of his own meal, almost as if proving that the food was non-poisonous, and waits for her response to continue the conversation in whatever direction she may take it.
Viola does not take her gaze off Arthir as she raised herself a little more slowly now, truly taking in her surroundings. The warmth from the hearth, the scent of food, catches her attention for but a moment; still very wary, obviously, for her muscles remain tensed, and her body language is such as one coiled and ready to spring into action at a second's notice.
"Where am I?" she asks in her suspecting voice.
Arthir doesn't bat an eye, his smile still friendly. "Somewhere far from collapsing ruins and angry orc. Let's just say we got swept away by fate… and an underground river."
Viola raises an eyebrow, though her eyes do turn towards the meal prepared on the small wooden stump before them. She looks at Arthir with distrust "And you just happened to be there when everything went wrong? What a coincidence."
Arthir chuckles low, never once losing his composure. "Let's call it serendipity. Besides, I figured you'd like waking up here to a hot meal instead of buried beneath a pile of rocks."
As she hesitates, he nods toward the food. "Go on, eat. You'll need your strength. And don't worry, I'm not your enemy. Just another traveler trying to make it out alive."
Finally, after a moment, Viola reaches for the food hesitantly. She is still cautious in her movements as she takes a small, testing bite before she continues. "I suppose I should thank you for that," she says grudgingly; her tone is cautious. "That does not, however, make you any less a thief."
Arthir raises an eyebrow in mock innocence. "A thief? Me? I prefer 'opportunistic collector of interesting things.' The key wasn't exactly claimed property when I found it."
Viola gives him a glare, though her gaze holds a hint of reluctant respect. "You were trying to steal the key right from under our noses. If it weren't for Ta'ul's recklessness, you might have succeeded."
Arthir shrugs, smirking playfully. "Might have. But then again, I ended up saving you instead of chasing after it, didn't I? Maybe I'm not the scoundrel you think I am."
Viola is silent for a moment, working out what he said. Of course, she's still wary, but Arthir's actions and his nonchalant, witty manner have softened her stance, if only slightly.
Arthir extended his hand with a playful grin. "Name's Arthir, treasure hunter by trade, thief by necessity. And you?"
Viola hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, her grip firm. "Viola. I'm with the High Order. We don't usually converse with thieves, but I suppose there's a first time for everything."
"So what is this almanac thing?"
Arthir's question hangs in the air as, for a moment, Viola looks disinclined. Evidently, she is debating just how much she is going to say. Narrowing into alertness, those golden eyes flickered with caution as she weighed the words that she would speak.
"You're really asking that?" she finally responds, much more measured in tone. "You mean to tell me you've been hunting down keys to an ancient artifact, risking life and limb, and you don't even know what it is you're after?"
Arthir shrugs indifferently, though the spark of curiosity is there in his eyes. "A treasure's a treasure. Figured I'd find out along the way. But since you seem to know more about it, I thought I'd ask."
Viola looks at him a few moments longer-like she might be trying to figure out if he's just playing dumb or if he truly is in the dark. She takes another bite of the meal before leaning back just a little, the distance between them clear, yet considerably more relaxed than before.
"The Almanac," she starts off, "is not any ordinary object but is said to be a relic of some ancient civilization which possessed knowledge and powers way beyond anything we have today. The stories say it holds secrets about multiversal travel: gateways to other dimensions, worlds, realities. Whoever controls the Almanac might potentially wield unimaginable power, shaping or even destroying entire worlds."
She adopts an even more serious expression then and lowers her voice. "That's why the High Order wants it. They say they want to protect it, to keep it out of the wrong hands."
Arthir listens intently as his mind goes over all the implications of what was said. He had a feeling that the artifact was going to be something valuable, but something with multiverse abilities was just beyond his imagination.
He leans back in his seat to muse, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "So, a tool that can rewrite reality. No wonder everyone is scrambling to get their hands on it."
Viola nods unflinchingly. "It's far more dangerous than you're thinking. If it gets in the wrong hands… um, well, let's not even consider the carnage that might entail. That's why we need to collect all the keys and get to the Almanac before someone like Ta'ul gets to it themselves."
"And what's to stop the High Order from using it for selfish purposes? Do you trust your bosses not to fall to temptation?"
Arthir's question cuts through the air, reaching its target straight and sharp. For the first time, Viola's features dance, a quiver of doubt crossing her face. She hesitates, her amber eyes narrowing while weighing her response.
"That's a fair question," she grants more warily. "The High Order has always seemed to come across as if it were meant to do good, preserving the balance and averting catastrophes. But…"
She trails off, wrestling with her thoughts. It's obvious the question has hit a nerve, bringing to the surface doubts that had been harbored but never voiced aloud.
"But I'd be lying if I said I haven't wondered the same thing," she finally continues, her voice quieter. "There's so much secrecy, so many decisions made by those far above my rank. I don't know everything and that bothers me. The idea of the Almanac in anyone's hands, even theirs. It's terrifying."
Arthir nods, his eyes filled with an awareness of her inner struggle. "So you are following orders without knowing where they lead. It is dangerous and especially when the stakes are this high."
Viola's eyes meet his, setting her jaw. "I trust that the High Order wants to protect the world. But. I'm not blind. I know power can corrupt even those with the best intentions. That's why I'm here--to make sure the right thing gets done, no matter what."
Arthir relaxes back into his seat, eyes taking on a contemplative hue. "Sounds like you got an awful lot riding on this. But let me tell you something: with treasures such as these, everyone is looking out for their own interest-even those whom you would call allies."
For a time, there is no response from Viola, yet her eyes betray the fact that she knows he is right, and her mission's weight hangs in the balance, far more than she would wish to admit.
Arthir watches her a moment longer before breaking the silence. "Well, at least you are conscious of the risks. That is a great deal more than most people in your position would be."
Viola finally lets some air in; her shoulders start to relax, and a soft sigh escapes her lips. "I don't know what the future holds, but I won't let the Almanac be used to harm innocent lives. That's the only thing I'm certain of."
Arthir gives a small, sympathetic smile. "And that's a good start. But be careful, Viola. The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
Hearing her name in his voice catches her by surprise. She doesn't betray it, simply nods her head in a small, silent acknowledgement before refocusing on her dinner as the unspoken tension between them slowly falters and relaxes into an uncomfortable truce.
Arthir settled down beside the fire, letting the warmth of the fire bleed into tired muscles. His usually quick wit had been dulled by the day's events, but all he could manage was a mind racing with thoughts. Lying back with his pack for a pillow, his eyes fell to Viola, who sat by the fire, carefully drying her wings. The jumping light of the fire's flicker leaped upon delicate feathers and then cast a very soft glow around her.
A realization struck him like a cold splash of water-Viola could have flown out of the ruins on her own. The fact was starkly simple, one that he had managed to overlook in his haste to help her out. That realization descended upon him at once, swift and palpable, heating his cheeks as his mind replayed the day's events. How could that fact have eluded him? He'd been so preoccupied by her rescue, assuming she was some treasure hunter who'd gotten in over her head, that he hadn't stopped to consider she had abilities all her own.
Arthir rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly; his cocky demeanor deserting him. His thoughts must have been written across his face, because when he turned back toward Viola, she was regarding him with a knowing smirk.
"Just figuring it out now?" she teased, though without any real bite. If anything, she sounded amused.
Arthir chuckled-the sound with a tinge of self-deprecation. "Yeah. I guess I didn't quite think that one through. Could've saved us both a lot of trouble."
Viola shrugged, folding her wings neatly behind her. "Maybe. But then again, I didn't expect Ta'ul to turn on me like that. If you hadn't been there, I might have ended up in a worse situation."
Her candor took Arthir by surprise. He looked upon her, truly looked upon her, and saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the tension running through her shoulders. She'd been through just as much today as he had, if not more. But despite everything, she hadn't complained, and hadn't criticized him for his oversight. Instead, she had accepted his aid, even when she might have managed just as well on her own.
"Still," Arthir said, his voice softer now, "I should have considered that. I'm used to being the one who has to find another way out."
Viola's expression softened as well. "We all make mistakes. Besides, it's not like you were wrong to act. You saw someone in trouble and helped—that's not something you should be embarrassed about."
Arthir nodded, though the blush remained. "Guess you're right. Just. try not to hold it against me when we get to the northern mountains, okay?"
Viola chuckled, the sound light and almost musical in the quiet of the night. "I'll think about it. But don't worry, Arthir. We'll figure this out together, wings or no wings."
The tension between them dissipated, the awkwardness melting away. Arthir was a little more at ease, though this awareness of the capabilities of Viola was there at the back of his mind. He filed away the mental note for more caution in the future-of the strengths of Viola but more so of the fact that they were now partners, at least until further notice.
The fire crackled softly, sending shadows writhing in its soft light in the dark ground. Outside their small clearing, the night was still and peaceful; the leaves rustled now and then, and some nocturnal creature let out a call from far away. Despite the trying incidents of the day, Arthir felt tranquility begin to settle over him. The adventure ahead was overpowering, but for tonight, at least, they had this moment of tranquility.
"Let's sleep through the night," Arthir said after a moment, his voice low and even, the silence of the meal broken.
Viola nodded, drawing her wings in tightly against herself like some protective cocoon. "Good idea. We'll need our strength for whatever comes next."
Arthir leaned back, his gaze slipping into the darkness, which dominated the night with its sounds. The warmth of the fire and the steady rhythm of Viola's breathing beside him were somehow reassuring, anchoring him to the now. And despite everything that happened, there was a strange feeling of satisfaction knowing they were in this together.
"Goodnight, Viola," Arthir whispered softly.
"Goodnight, Arthir," she whispered back, her eyes closing at his words.
As the night wore on, the fire died down to glowing embers. Arthir's sleep was light, a habit born from many years of sleeping in dangerous places, his senses still tuned into his surroundings. Now and again, he'd catch Viola stirring, her eyes flickering open, shining golden as she glanced in his direction. Each time that she did, she settled quickly back down, reassured by his steady breathing and relaxed position.
Arthir couldn't help but huff out a quiet laugh to himself, finding her wariness quite understandable if at least somewhat endearing. "Well, that's natural," he thought, amused by her vigilance. He knew it was going to take some time for her to fully trust him, given the circumstances; for now, he was content with letting her keep watch.
Eventually, the night wore on, and Arthir thought of the dangers lying ahead of them in the northern mountains. The stakes were higher than ever, but for the first time, he didn't feel alone against them. He and Viola were still circling each other, still not quite sure where they stood with one another, but there was a connection there-an understanding unspoken.
The last thing he saw before he finally slipped into sleep was the soft, emerald glow of the embers, and the silhouette of Viola, her wings wrapped around her like a shield. The road ahead would be hazardous, but for tonight, they had this moment of peace, however fleeting it might be.