It took a little while to find a route through the trees that the cart could be pulled through, but Al wanted to avoid getting near the barn and agitating the horses there again and risk getting noticed. He supposed he could have sent Gruntle on ahead through the woods and the rest of them gone back to the road the way the came in to met up with the gnoll later, but who knows what might happen while Gruntle was unsupervised?
Two shallow sets of wheel-ruts marked the wide road, suggesting an investment in allowing traffic in both directions unhindered, but not in large volume unless someone was paying even more to smooth the road out periodically with laborers or magic. The sliver of light on the horizon told them which direction was east. They turned left and headed north, Wikwocket sitting atop their possessions on the cart and Gruntle walking ahead of the donkey to keep an eye, ear, and nose on the road ahead. Al and Bote walked behind, partly to guard the rear, partly to make it easier for Bote to avoid getting run into by the cart given their dwarven-length stride, but mostly just to watch for anything falling off of their cart. Although the road appeared to be very well-maintained by rural standards, the uneven ruts that the cart's wheels naturally slotted themselves into jostled the cargo. Wikwocket giggled as a dip in the road bounced her around in her improvised seat atop her pack.
"Has anyone mentioned that you are easily amused?" Al called ahead to her.
"Aw, thanks, Al!" she called back with, as far as Al could tell, complete sincerity.
"You're welcome?" Al replied, unsure how to respond.
A series of small bumps in the road jostled the cart some more, and Al found himself tripping over the magically-preserved, bedroll-covered dead body as it fell off of the cart in front of him in the pre-dawn darkness. Gruntle stopped and turned at the noise, causing Haunch to stop as well. Wikwocket hopped down from the cart and went to see if she could help while Al got back to his feet.
"Wow, he's really stubborn!" she laughed, rolling the stiff, face-down body back over. "He's properly dead and he's still attacking you!"
"Unfortunately I don't think killing him more would help at all," Al grumbled. He and Bote lifted the stiff body back up onto the cart.
"Maybe if we move him to the middle of the cart and pile the rest of the stuff on him, we can keep him from bouncing around," Al suggested. They unpacked the cart, shifted the dead man to the middle of it, covered the body with Al's bedroll again, and then piled their possessions on and around him. With the packs and the heavy lead-lined chest piled up, Al hoped the body would remain stable as long as they didn't hit any bumps large enough to move the whole load. The arrangement also made it less obvious that there was something the size and shape of a dead body on the cart.
"All right, I think that should hold him," Al said as he scrutinized the pile on the cart.
"That was definitely a faster way to bury him than digging a hole in the ground!" Wikwocket giggled.
"Uh... yes, I suppose it is," Al sighed. "Now that that's done, and we're away from people for now, we should probably talk about how we're going to make the rest of the trip. It's probably going to take most of the day to get there so I think we should avoid causing any delays, like scared villagers rushing out with spears and farm-tools to defend themselves from being eaten by gnolls. Or frightened merchants or nobles running off to bring the militia to put down the gnoll threat. Or... let's just say maybe Gruntle should..."
Al considered the best way to explain.
"... scout ahead and spy on anyone else who might be on the road, staying hidden so they don't know they're being stalked."
A gnollish grunt signaled acceptance.
"Ooo! Clandestine activity!" Wikwocket enthused, "I can go with him in case he needs backup! That way when we run into a caravan of suspicious fortune-tellers who are secretly werewolves, one of us can keep watch on them while the other comes back to warn you!"
"I was hoping you'd say that. Well, not exactly that but... yes, that's a good idea. If we can get to Southwall without causing any panic I think we'll have a better chance of getting the guards there to talk to us."
"There's plenty of cover to hide in off the road, they'll never know we're there! Come on, Gruntle!"
Gnome and gnoll hurried off the road and into the pine trees. Al breathed a sigh of relief.
"You have become more trusting of allowing Gruntle out of your sight since we began," Bote told Al as the two of them moved ahead of the cart. Bote reached up and patted Haunch's neck. The donkey calmly followed as they resumed their walk along the road.
"I suppose I have, a little," Al admitted, "It's good that he gets along so weirdly well with Wikwocket. I'm still nervous about what kind of influence she might have on him though. She's very... cheerfully impulsive."
"That is the Wikwocket-nature," said Bote, "which is likely natural for her gnomish ancestry and culture. What do you know of the nature of the fae?"
"Not too much, mostly just folklore. The... uh... fair folk," Al answered, looking around with superstitious caution, "come from realms in the Near Dreamlands. The folklore tends to describe each of them as having a sort of theme to their personalities that tends to be exaggerated compared to people here in the waking world. They have a reputation for being persuasive and are often outright magical, but they're usually constrained by certain rules that they adhere to, and they get upset if someone violates those rules."
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"That sounds somewhat like what I know of demons, wouldn't you agree?"
"I don't think of it that way, but I guess there are some similarities. Demons are like personifications of harmful malicious concepts, though, they usually seem to have simple personalities and desires. Stories of the fair folk make them seem more like people, just more exaggerated."
"What would you have if you could remove, let us say, the covetousness from a demon of envy?"
Al considered the philosophical question.
"Not much of anything, I imagine," he answered, "that's basically what the demon is made of, so if you remove it you don't really even have a demon anymore."
"If gnomes are truly descended from a playful variety of fae, then it is likely necessary for them to be aggressively cheerful, in order to remain what they are."
"I understand that," Al agreed, "and I'd certainly rather be around someone who's constantly cheerful than someone who's constantly unhappy. It does get to be a bit much to keep up with for me sometimes though."
"There is always some effort involved when diferent cultures combine and work together. Your people tend to consider gnomes to be frivolous, and my people to be overly serious and lacking humor. Of course, all of us feel the elves to lack any appreciation for urgency or short-term consequence. I find that many individuals do not properly fit the assumptions, but there is some truth to the impressions of cultures as a whole. To accept these differences has some mental cost to achieve. Personally, I feel the robustness and versatility of the result is worth the cost."
"I can't say I really disagree. It makes me wonder what gnomes and dwarves and elves think of humanity."
"We all believe that you complain a great deal."
"That seems harsh and a little... I'm doing it right now, aren't I..."
Bote laughed."Yes, but at least you are aware of it. This isn't necessarily a bad habit, to complain is to openly draw attention to possible problems. This may ensure that problems are noticed and potentially resolved. It can sometimes be, as you say, a bit much at times but this small burden is worth the effort, I believe."
"Well, I appreciate that."
"It is only fair. Besides, you are not so a bit much as many of your people are. You make an effort to adapt to the extreme variance of cultures and personalities in our strange little clan. Not many among any of our respective peoples could adapt well enough to accommodate a gnoll. This is an important virtue for anyone who leads an adventuring team."
"Which, I might point out, I hadn't actually intended to do."
"All the better, as you have this role because you are deemed qualified, rather than because you coveted authority."
Al gave an exasperated sigh and pleaded in melodramatic silence with the slowly-brightening heavens to take pity upon him.
"Still, it'd be nice if Wikwocket took things more seriously once in a while. It's hard to understand how she can always be cheerful, even when it seems inappropriate. I worry that if she keeps feeling like there are no consequences for her recklessness, it's going to end up hurting her or us."
"She may be driven to joy and wonder, but you appear to have overlooked some painful lessons she has experienced since we began traveling together. For example, she was in a state of profound shock and sorrow when we nearly lost Gruntle to the mandibles of that monstrous burrowing insect in Aemilia's tomb, for example."
"I remember her looking very happy even then, despite the tears, though."
"That was after we were able to rescue him from death in time. Did you not also feel relief and joy to know that he would live?. Perhaps you were too distracted to notice at the time, but I believe she has been more protective of our gnollish friend since then."
"I suppose that's true. I just remember being angry."
Al grimaced, a little embarrassed.
"I guess I wasn't really paying attention."
"And, thus, the student was enlightened," Bote said.
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They saw no approaching traffic on the road until midday. Al was startled when a familiar voice called out from some bushes along the side of the road.
"Pssst! Al!," Wikwocket announced from her hiding place, "there are about five people on horses just down the road, trotting your way! They look like they're wearing some kind of uniforms, but I can't quite tell what the heraldry on their tabards is without getting closer. They look like they're in a hurry, but don't worry, if they decide to cause problems we're close enough to help! I'll go back and watch what's happening with Gruntle!"
A quiet rustle was all the indication that Wikwocket had left again.
A few minutes later, the five riders came into view. As they drew closer, Al could see the motif on the front of their uniforms - a white background, with a pair of black rings at the center top and a stylized segment of fortified wall at the bottom. As they approached at a trot, Al realized the rings were actually meant to be shackles.
"Just act natural," Al suggested, "probably best if we don't draw attention to ourselves."
"Are you suggesting that there are times you believe I am acting unnaturally?" Bote replied.
The five riders slowed before they passed. A burly man in the lead stared suspiciously at Al's face for an uncomfortable few seconds, then at the jumble of possessions on their simple cart. He seemed to dismiss Al as unimportant then and spurred his horse back into a trot. The others did the same, and they soon passed out of sight to the south.
"Did those uniforms mean they were from Southwall's city guard?" Al wondered. "I'm glad they didn't seem to be looking for us."
"They were certainly looking for someone," Bote agreed. "They did not appear impressed by our transportation. Perhaps they are seeking someone more obviously wealthy."
"I hope they find whoever it is, and leave us alone. Hopefully there won't be any excitement before we can have a civilized discussion with the guards at the city when we arrive."
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Wikwocket and Gruntle reappeared in the early afternoon. The blood around Gruntle's muzzle and Wikwocket's hands were worrying until Al noticed the skinned rabbits Gruntle was carrying.
"Gruntle already ate some, but we thought it'd be a good time to take a rest to eat. Hey, Al, can you try cooking these with your magic fire?"
Even the small, more controlled bursts of fire he was now able to conjure so easily were unsuited to proper cooking. The tiny explosions of flame upon impact with the rabbits scattered small bits of charred flesh when they hit, but they did leave enough meat merely cooked to provide some meat.
Wikwocket and Gruntle returned to the cover off-road as they resumed their travels. Soon after, the two of them returned again to report that they were nearly in sight of the city walls. Gruntle willingly went along with Wikwocket's idea of tucking the end of a rope under his collar, just as they'd done back at Notamimic Manor. He even let them take away his shield and flail to add to the impression that Gruntle wasn't a threat, though looking at his teeth, Al wasn't sure how much good that would do.
As the city walls came into view, an alarm bell began to ring from beyond the gate.