Somrstad 11th, 924 F.L.

(Present Day)

Time Until Road-building Resumes: 2 Weeks 1 Day

Garrick absorbed the news. The leave date for the road building project had been pushed up and would set out tomorrow?

A curious turn of events, he considered. I wonder what caused that particular development?

However, he didn’t voice that question now—not yet. Best to wait until the boy and his companions had calmed their blood a bit. A fight like that could meddle with the mind and he didn’t want to force the young Montrose to feel as though he’d need to defend himself again so suddenly.

Still…it seemed odd to the old man that an organization as established and deeply successful as Montrose Structures would be so cavalier about their timing. Either someone had made a mistake…

Or something had changed.

He couldn’t help but to think about Vash. Could he have been involved in this decision? He’d apparently been influential enough (under his pseudonym) to persuade Devendish Montrose to send his son to find Garrick. That wasn’t nothing.

I suppose we’ll have to see, Garrick thought. It doesn’t inconvenience me overly much, I suppose. It’ll only take me a short while to get back up to Respite and secure the remainder of my belongings. Considerably less if I actually push myself a tad.

The issue arose simply with him having to be urgent about something. Likely for the first time in over a decade. Well, aside from having to jog a little to get the shed closed before a surprise storm or the like. Still, all-in-all, he was fairly happy with leaving early. It only meant that he’d be in Ozara sooner.

Maybe I can get a line in with Skylark while the water’s still frozen?

It had been ages since he’d been ice fishing. Too long. The fact that it was still summer and he was already thinking about winter made him pause in his thoughts for a moment—was he really in such a hurry to speed up the march of time?

Not at my age—that’s not safe at all! He mused. He resolved to approach the project with a ‘come-what-may’ attitude. But, if he made it before winter’s end, he’d very much be pressing his son to drop a line in a frozen lake.

Garrick realized he’d just been standing there reminiscing, rather than responding to Dashiell and he started, flashing an apologetic smile.

“Oh! Sure, sure! Put away the grimace, Mr. Montrose!” he said. “This hardly inconveniences me—if that’s your worry. No, no—the sooner we head out, the better.”

“Are you certain?” Dashiell asked. “I’d hate to cut your shopping trip short.”

Interesting, he considered. I hadn’t mentioned that’s why I was in town.

Garrick looked around at the streets and chuckled.

“Would you change it up if I had an issue with it?”

“Oh, that—that is…”

Seeing Dashiell’s conflicted expression he chuckled, waving his hands at the young man.

“Just a joke, Mr. Montrose. Never mind about the adjustment—you’d only be doing me a favor,” Garrick said. “My ‘shopping trip’ as you’ve succinctly put it could do with a shorter leash. I’ve got a whole host of knicknacks wiling away at Respite—hardly need to add any more to the collection.”

The old man, feeling as though changing the subject might wipe the unease from Dashiell’s visage, glanced at the two new arrivals, who had stepped in so decisively.

"Seems you've got quite the company," Garrick remarked, gesturing towards the big man and the gloam elf. "Care to introduce your friends?"

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The young man gestured back at the pair, who now stood relaxed but alert.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Dashiell began, clearing his throat slightly as if the introductions were formalities he hadn't quite expected to make under these circumstances.

"This is Kerd," he nodded towards the large man whose presence seemed to command attention without effort. "And this," he continued, indicating the gloam elf, "is Fran."

“Well met,” Garrick said. “I’m Garrick—but if I could ask, what happened to change the—”

Kerd offered a grin, wide and disarming, his hand raised in a casual wave as he interrupted.

"Pleasure to meet ya, sir! Dashiell's told us a fair bit about ya— a’course, we’d already know enough, wouldn’t we, seeing as who you are."

The big man winked. Garrick did not miss the intentional glossing over of his question with the man’s action.

Fran, more reserved, nodded her acknowledgment.

"An honor," she said, her voice carrying the melodic quality characteristic of her kind, yet tinged with a note of sincerity that belied her warrior's poise.

"So…” Garrick began, wanting to ask the question on his mind, but noticing the avoidance the trio demonstrated. “What…brings you to Maretown, then? Surely not just the local cuisine.”

He glanced briefly towards The Sizzling Skillet, now quiet but still busy.

Dashiell seemed to relax a little, the tension around his shoulders easing.

"Actually, it's quite the story. As I said, we were on our way to inform you of the adjusted timetable.”

“All three of you?” Garrick wondered. “Seems odd to bring such a large party for one man.”

“Not for you, no, sir!” Dashiell nearly exclaimed. “This visit is multipurpose.”

“Ah, two birds…” Garrick mused.

“I’m sorry, sir…but, erm…what?”

Garrick snickered. Apparently, despite his best efforts over the many decades, some of his homeland’s idioms hadn’t yet caught on.

“Nothing, just part of a saying,” he said.

“Is that the one about hands and bushes?” Kerd asked.

Garrick raised an eyebrow. The truncated way in which he’d relayed it sounded a bit obscene.

‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush’ probably doesn’t fit in this context, Garrick considered.

“Uh, sure,” Garrick said, nodding. “But, you were saying something Mr. Montrose—about a multi-purpose visit?”

“Ah, yes. Apologies, sir,” Dashiell said. “Kerd and Fran have been instrumental in... negotiating some of the more delicate aspects of our preparation."

Fran's lips quirked up in a small smile at the word.

"If by negotiating,” she started, “you mean ensuring no one tries to double-cross the company before we even begin, then yes, we've been quite busy."

Kerd laughed, the sound booming and jovial.

"Aye, and it's been quite the adventure already. But I reckon the real fun's yet to start, especially with you joining us, sir."

Garrick, intrigued by the dynamics of the group and the implications of their mission, thought he was reading between the lines well enough. He leaned in.

"And what about securing potential trade routes? I assume its role in this project is not insignificant."

Dashiell glanced at his companions before answering.

"Trade is, indeed, a crucial part of this journey. But that’s only one aspect of why Fran and Kerd are here—as you have no doubt correctly guessed.”

“So what’s the remaining bit?” Garrick asked.

“Environmental guardianship,” Fran said simply.

“Ah,” Garrick said, smiling. He understood now. “You two’re Wardens, then.”

Dashiell smiled.

“I should have known you’d see straight into the innards of the matter, sir. Yes, Fran and Kerd here are Wardens—ensuring that while this endeavor will be—as my father anticipates—one of the most profitable journeys ever attempted, it will also be safe for the creatures and peoples who might otherwise be displaced. The roads we're building will bring great change. Not all of it good. My friends here aim to minimize our ignorant plodding and ensure it isn't so precarious an affair. The best result for all parties."

Fran added, "And with the blight affecting the lands, it's more important than ever to ensure that balance is maintained. Our... talents make us uniquely suited to face the challenges ahead."

Kerd nodded solemnly.

"Plus, we've heard rumors of bandits—and worse—taking advantage of the chaos. Me an’ Fran know their movements better’n most. Helpful to have us along to make sure those blokes don’t interfere with Montrose's plans—or yours, I ‘spose, too—whatever they may be."

“My plans?” Garrick said, smirking. “Mine are simple—get to Ozara in time for spring. Anything else is improvisation.”

His owed debt to Vash, and the ageless man’s obvious scheme to attempt to route the project toward the curio he sought, flashed through Garrick’s mind.

Well, that isn’t the full truth, I suppose. But, well, no one needs to know about the other aspect.

Kerd, looking as though he couldn’t contain himself any longer, finally spoke directly to Garrick.

“So, if I can ask—sir, that is…” he said, seeming as though he wasn’t sure how to properly interact with living legend and was concerned about seeming rude.

“Go on,” Garrick urged, a smile touching his lips.

“...well, I don’t want to miss this opportunity, so…” he paused before finally pushing out, “how’d we look out there? The, uh, fightings we did. I mean—good? Bad? In the middle? Won’t disappoint you and pretend I can read, but I’ll still take any notes you have.”

Garrick nodded.

I see, now I understand.

While not exactly an uncommon request, it had been some time since anyone had approached him asking for pointers. In the Beacon Age, he couldn’t move ten feet most days without someone asking him to examine their form or teach them how to perform one of his famous maneuvers, or ask him to—of all things—become their master…and so forth. This request from the gigantic man reminded him a bit of the pitfalls of not being properly anonymous.

Garrick studied Kerd for a moment, the way a seasoned carpenter might examine a piece of raw lumber, seeing not just what it was, but what it could become.

Let’s see what this group is really all about, then…

“How about we discuss your fightings over a meal?” Garrick suggested. “I ponder better with a full belly.”

“A marvel of an idea, sir,” Kerd said. “I’m famished! Where to?”

“Well, I feel as though our only option is The Sizzling Skillet,” Dashiell said, his cheeks reddening. “It would only be right considering the trouble we participated in.”

The four of them looked to the establishment, and as one, nodded.