and what's in this little bottle? Who: Lucressia Peron and Constans Ledaal Where: Lothering, the Stables of the Dane's Refuge Inn When: 22 Molioris. Early morning. Summary: The Tranquil finds something he perhaps shouldn't have. Rating: E, for now.
Lucressia had always been used to keeping odd hours; waking early some days and staying up through the night and into the next morning, other days. She was a marvelously light sleeper. The weeks on the road down to Lothering had set her body's clock firmly towards waking up with the dawn, however, and she did so this morning as well. The bed in the Inn was more comfortable than any she had ever managed in her tent, even with the massive pile of furs she dragged out of her wagon every evening to keep herself warm and cozy. And yet, she was still awake with the sun; the ox had to be fed, and she had decided to try and get a little more trade done before they departed for the south.
She had done excellent business yesterday, after all, bringing in enough money to more than pay for her bed and bath and meals in Dane's Refuge. More this morning would only mean more coin lining her pockets, perhaps fresh food or herbs. Some of the farmers had even sold her herbs and mushrooms and other products that were necessaries for poison-making; she was not sure if they knew, but she would not begrudge them the goods, in any case. Her wagon was brimming with the goods of Lothering; many of the fine crafted things from Amaranthine and Denerim gone, and she had collected another few wolf pelts to ward against the chill she was sure they would find in the Korcari swamps. Never mind it was coming on high summer—if you had asked Lucressia to find the coldest, dampest part of the world, her resentment might have pointed out this corner of Ferelden.
When she came down through the Inn's common room, it was mostly quiet; the innkeeper was up, but not many of the other guests. She exited quickly, heading back to where she had left her wagon and her grumpy ox. They were secure, at least marginally so, in the Inn's stable; she had even given a child a handful of silver to keep an eye on the wagon overnight. Now, the little boy was snoozing against the door, but it seemed he'd done his job for the most part.
It seemed that way, until she stepped into the stable and saw a man standing in front of the rear of her wagon, the wooden doors thrown open, staring inside. Lucressia froze. It took her a second, but then she began to recognize details—the haircut, the clothing, all familiar—not someone she knew well, but someone she had seen every day, many times a day, for quite some time now. "...Constans?"