Hilan's Trek through Yolryta

Sister Hilan was heading inland, as she heard rumor of the treatment of peasantry in some of the farms far from foreign eyes. Well, that combined with a rather unfriendly welcome from certain officials. Not local officials, of course, those love the money that tourists bring. No, something bigger is afoot. Walking alone through the roads is no trouble to her. She has an air about her of one not to be messed with, from her stocky build to her massive shield. That, combined with the fact that she doesn’t carry with her anything worth any real money, meant that neither lone nor groups of bandits would likely face her. Perhaps pairs, she considers, but bandits rarely travel in pairs. The walk is hard on her, but she’d gotten an early start to the day. She was determined to find her way to something. What that was mattered little compared to the fact that it was. She needs to find the question, after all. Only then does she have a chance of finding an answer.

Her travel takes her down the road towards the opposite side of Yolryta. The beginnings of a question start to come to her around midday. Quite literally. The sun shines harsh above, and under her armor, Sister Hilan begins feeling tired. Not in a way that could stop her journey, but rather that sort of tired that simply makes one sweaty and uncomfortable. Most points in her journey, that would be no issue to note. Unfortunately, while she’d taken into account the activities of banditry, she had not thought of the other sort of road issue. It had been too long since she’d interacted with nature beyond the pages of a book. And she’d forgotten about predation. To the pack of wolves that comes from the brush around half a thousand-pace from the last turn from this particular road, all Sister Hilan seems to be is a wounded member of some shelled herd that is long gone. The fact that she’s pouring sweat does not do anything to help matters, of course. Raising her shield to protect herself, Hilan readies herself for a fight, sliding her flail out from its strap. Blocking the first wolf’s lunge with her shield, she swings her flail down on the back of the attacker. While it does produce a satisfying crack, it isn’t quite enough to finish the wolf off. She follows the first blow up by smashing the boss of her shield down on the wolf’s head. That is enough. Returning to her defensive stance, she waits for the next wolf to attack. With five left surrounding her, a normal person might not like their odds. Sister Hilan, however, has the strength of the Tripartite Throne reinforcing her heart, the power of the Twin Flames fueling her hand, and the understanding of the Lady relaxing her mind. With the influence of the Cold Fist on her, nothing would defeat her.

All that confidence matters little, though. She does not get the chance to prove her belief to herself. Out of nowhere, an arrow, glowing green and gold, imbeds itself into the side of the largest wolf’s neck. Growing out from the wound like a curse, vines spin out towards the nearby wolves. The spiked vines wrap around the wolves’ legs. The two wolves that seemed ready to attack Hilan, instead turn on one another, howling angrily. Not knowing how long this chaos would last, Hilan chooses to act. Dropping her flail for a moment, she braces her shield and slams it on the back of one of the entangled wolves’ neck. With another crack, the wolf goes limp and stops struggling against the vines. Another arrow strikes the other entangled one. She kicks the flail back into her hand and swings, using the head of the flail to push the arrow in even deeper. The two remaining wolves recognize once more that she’s a greater threat than whatever they were previously arguing about and come at Sister Hilan. She easily brushes off the first, but the other manages a solid bite on her leg. Half the teeth manage to find some of the less armored area, and slide through her thick leggings to scratch flesh. The wolf, realizing that bite isn’t enough, backs off some. An arrow comes in at one. Hilan then chooses to go after the other. With a flourish and a spinning leap, Hilan strikes at the wolf who bit her. First, the flail cracks up from below, knocking the wolf’s head upwards slightly. Then, as her spin finishes, the shield boss smashes the wolf’s head back to the ground. The wolf, still standing, looks rough. She can hear arrows hitting the wolf behind her. That, she hopes, means it will be heading in the direction of the other threat. It does. The wolf in front of her scratches at her, but finds only her shield. With one more swing of her flail, the wolf falls. Turning to face the other wolf, she sees only a lovely elf woman, dressed as a peasant, walking towards her. The elf still had her bow out.

Sister Hilan decides to try diffusing the situation. This woman saved her, so she is probably not a bandit, the Sister figures. She smiles at the elf and extends her hand. “Many thanks for your aid this noontime. I am Sister Hilan, of the Darian Order of the Cold Fist’s Bold Flame.”

The elf woman smiles back, confirming what Sister Hilan thought in the first place. This woman means her no harm. The elf takes her hand. “Alessari. A pleasure.”

Hilan nods. “Wonderful to meet you, Alessari. Where might you be headed?”

“Elsewhere. And you?” Alessari replies.

Hilan chuckles. “I don’t know yet. I’m on a mission.”

“For who,” Alessari shoots back quickly, seeming to grow paranoid.

The Sister of Piety laughs. “No, it isn’t that sort of mission,” she explains, “It’s a sort of calling. To journey out into the world. There are many kinds, of course, but mine does not have a destination yet. I have yet to even find the question.”

The elf woman seems confused. “If it doesn’t have a purpose, why is it a mission?”

“Because that is what it is called. All Siblings of Piety are sent off on missions. Some choose more focused missions, but I did not wish that for my own journey. I have a feeling the question I will find has an answer of great import to the Darian Order.”

Something clicks behind the eyes of Alessari. “So it is some kind of religious thing. I would recommend not staying here for long, then.”

“I know,” Sister Hilan replies, “I was just in Inrotta and there were many well-equipped people who informed me so.”

Alessari looks around, somewhere between concerned and confused. “None of the houses based near Inrotta should care at all, though. They rely on the Caravans and the northern states for income.”

“I think they were from whoever sits above the houses in power. Don’t know why, though.”

The elf looks like she’s debating whether or not to correct the foreigner. Choosing between being kind and being informative. A compromise is what she ends up on. “That isn’t exactly how the governing of this place works. The houses are as high a level as there is in their territory. It isn’t like the Ragers or your, um, Imperium? Where there’s a group or person above the others. The Alliance of Carrosa sees themselves as just that, an alliance of equals.”

“So, what is further that way?” Hilan decides to change the subject and gestures behind Alessari.

“Nowhere that you would want to go. A few plantations and the port town of Ytsarra. And before you think you may leave from there, you won’t. It’s almost entirely used for grain transport for military purposes.”

“Where might you suggest we head, then?” Hilan posed the question to the woman.

Alessari considers the question, thinking about something. Then, after a few moments, she replies, “If we head back a short ways, there should be a northerly split, that would take us to an inland town called Otryssa. We could stay there the night, then head further north to a cove I once heard about from a…well, friend. That can take us elsewhere.”

Sister Hilan nods and gestures for the woman to lead. Alessari agrees and starts to walk. Hilan follows. Her new guide does not seem used to traveling with people. She seems the sort more comfortable on her own. There is something else about her that feels off to the Sister of Piety. She doesn’t feel like a peasant. It takes Hilan almost to the crossroads to figure it out. The knowledge of the Imperium’s structure. A peasant of the Betrayer State would certainly need an understanding of local politics, if they wish to live their best lives. And knowledge of the Kingdom that Rages is likely one of those things explained to kids when discussing the local history. But no one outside of the political spheres needs to know anything about the Imperium’s politics. Heck, Hilan has even met people from the Imperium that don’t understand it fully. But this Alessari seems to. She was telling the truth about where she’s come from and doesn’t wish her harm. Together, that is more than enough for Hilan to trust the woman. She was curious about the source of the unease, and now she’s discovered it. Alessari is clearly hiding something, but likely not from her. Rather, the woman is hiding something from everyone while here. Which means she’s probably some kind of runaway. The Bold Flame takes care of all those who feel the need to flee their home. Until she is safe, Hilan will protect this woman. She may not be the Sister’s mission, but protecting her may well help her find the question. After all, why would they have met on the road as they did, if it were not a part of the Cold Fist’s plans?

The walk is brutal for Sister Hilan. And her minor leg wound didn’t help matters much. By the time they reach the small town of Otryssa, her underclothing and padding is soaked clean through. Otryssa is not at all what the sister expected it to be. Bustling, even past sundown, it feels like a city, only smaller. Alessari leads her to a place that looks like a large home. The inside, however, is filled with people. It reminds Hilan of the cafeteria in the abbey, during celebratory holy days. Heading to the man who seemed in charge of the establishment, Hilan gave him a humble head-bow. “I am Sister Hilan, of the Darian Order of the Cold Fist’s Bold Flame. I was wondering if my guide and I might have a place to stay the night?”

The large elf gentleman looks at the pair of women before him. Sizing them up. One sweating and in plate armor. The other a peasant clothed woman with a bow and swords, both nicer than most peasant’s would have. Deciding that this pair likely did not wish to be known. “I got a free room. A gold for the both of you, and I’ll accidentally write my cousin’s name in the books.”

Alessari smiles. “It’s always good to keep your cousin on your mind,” she says.

Hilan looks between them. Not caring so much about that, and thinking more of wanting to get out for her sweaty clothes as soon as possible, she nods. “Very well,” she says, handing over one coin from her stipend. She was going to need more soon enough. “But I do not want to be disturbed, alright?”

The man nods. “Up the stairs to the left. Second room on your right.”

Following his directions, Hilan enters a room that was larger than she expected and immediately doffed her armor and pulled off her clothes, Hilan hangs them up before seating herself on the floor. Holding her hands over the toothmarks on her leg, she begins to focus on the warmth around her. Inside her. Touching the wound, she feels the warmth in her hand on her leg. And her leg knits itself back together, better than it looked before. She notices Alessari is staring at her. “Oh,” she realizes, “Are you in need of healing as well?”