For the second time in less than a week, Lasutro woke up in pain, a near enveloping soreness throughout their body, especially so in both arms. Lasutro’s eyes wandered the moving sky above them, only just resisting the urge to lift their head up to take in their surroundings to the degree she hoped. The slight bumpiness of the cart as it traveled down the road kept Lasutro awake, the movement ever so faintly pushing against their bruises.
As the clouds passed above them and the brilliant blue turned the signature deep purple red of night, Lasutro managed to catch a glimpse of the expressions of a few of the guards that rode steeds around what they assumed to be the same caravan. Of those she saw, their expressions were marked with a pained relief, coupled by tinges of guilt. When the cart stopped, the less injured caravan survivors began to prepare camp, changing the bandages of the wounded. Lasutro watched them for a little while,before laying back down to ease the pain and as she did so she felt the exhaustion that had been building since she woke crash down upon them, pulling them back into the darkness of sleep.
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When Lasutro stirred from their rest she found the soreness of their body slightly more bearable and rose to a half seated position against some of the crates that occupied the inside of the cart alongside them. After a series of slight adjustments to ease the discomfort that came with their new positioning, she looked out across the caravan, taking in the damage of the attack.
The carts of the caravan, either by intention or by lingering fear, followed closer together as did the guard mounted upon steeds, though notably less then she remembered. The individuals who could walk on foot grouped together similarly, and far quieter then they did previously in the journey. The air was filled with a melancholic feeling that radiated out mostly from both the guards incapacitated and those with lesser injuries.
The pervading emotions of the caravan pushed Lasutro to seek some sort of distraction, which she found in their silver bracelet. As she escaped the pressuring sadness of their surroundings, she focused on the perpetual chill of the silver and how despite the impacts she was sure it took it remained unblemished. The more she studied it, the evershifting symbols upon its solid form occasionally morphing into those vaguely familiar, yet never so much so as to let Lasutro recall them in its entirety. The half memories of the symbols swam about their mind, the partially forgotten new symbols sliding from thought and fading to nothing.
The muddied thoughts of the peculiar symbols of the cool silver, cleaning themselves when a single strand of different thread pulled them to new considerations and recollections. The thread led to a memory of the now familiar chill of the silver bracelet. The pieces fell together, the drain of energy followed by that chill:it had helped them work magic. More than that it saved their life, it had helped free them from what Lasutro was now sure was an unnatural, even magical fear.
As Lasutro reflected upon the assistance of their partially identified artifact, their mind quickly turned its focus elsewhere in their own memories and she gladly followed it. The memories of Waelim and his potion came soon after she began to follow their instinctive focus. While Lasutro had always thought of their own ability to remember as somewhat impressive, she felt as if it had improved as their mind wandered the memories until she felt what the memories of Waelim and his potion had in common; the wave of energy, the sensation that ran through their body, the very same feeling, though different in some ways, that came during the attack on the caravan,
Lasutro was pulled from their thoughts as their reflection on the sensation itself, unconsciously began to recreate it. The rush of energy bubbled up to the surface of their skin, seeking direction outside or even within Lasutro’s body but finding none. Aimless, the energy slowly seeped out of Lasutro, leaving them with a somewhat familiar feeling of exhaustion. With their body and mind respectively drained of energy, Lasutro laid back down, letting their recent revelations sink in and hoping the extra rest would assist in their recovery.
After their short rest Lasutro felt revitalized, as much as one could be with the wounds she was inflicted with. Though there wasn’t much to see on the road and beyond it, Lasutro took in the subtle beauty of the grasslands that surrounded the traveling caravan. The day progressed slowly, partially due to the air that hung about the caravan but also in consideration of those wounded individuals who had the strength to walk on foot. When the day reached its end and the caravan stopped to begin its night preparations, Lasutro mustered what strength they could to help, especially for the driver of the cart that had been carrying them.
With the last of their strength diminished and the darkness of the night sky solidifying, Lasutro, under the low light of the fires of camp, began the process of cleaning the bandages that clung to their arms. Despite their wishes to push past the pain of the task, she found themselves gritting their teeth as she unraveled the bandages revealing the source of their pain. A grimace lingered on their face as she went about boiling their bandages, and reapplying them. When she finished, the night was in full swing, the expressions of the few guards she observed marked with as much fatigue as she felt and their wounds tended to, Lasutro quietly embraced their night's rest with ease.
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Against their desires Lasutro found themselves sitting in the same cart of the previous day's travel. For the first hour of the day’s trek she had earnestly attempted, against their better judgment, to walk alongside the caravan but only noticed the sluggishness of their pace when the last of the caravan’s carts began to pass them. Sitting in the cart nearly as awkward as she had the day before, Lasutro, after a few minutes of watching the passing grasslands and its friendly inhabitants, adjusted their posture as she began to read their book.
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Although their memory of the previous chapter had partially faded aside from the major aspects and the now fragmented symbols that marked their arm, she had begun to feel optimistic about the lesson it had imparted. While she wasn’t absolutely sure, Lasutro believed their understanding of the chapter, as she had taken to calling them in their mind,had been sufficient for what was expected of them. A belief that was, at least to them, proved when she flipped past the previously filled pages to find a new heading in the same style: Freesill’s Simplistic Somatic Spells: Varied Somatic Components to Know & Practice. While Lasutro managed to control their excitement upon reading the title and what it meant , she couldn’t help but let out a giggle when she read the title once more how out of place it felt in the magical tome.
Then suddenly she recalled the air of the caravan, and looked around to see multiple pairs of eyes gazing in their direction. The tension weighed on them and all Lasutro could manage was an awkward smile before returning their attention to the new chapter. For a few moments after the silence seemed to cling around the entire caravan until suddenly a series of chuckles cut through it, and the weight fell from Lasutro’s shoulders. As it fell, though she was already back to their book, she felt the air of the caravan lighten too. With that the caravan as a whole entered a lighter mood, though still marked by trauma of the attack, casual chatter returned among most of the caravan and as it did a small smile creeped its way upon Lasutro’s lips as she read.
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The new chapter was distinct from the previous two in not just its style, but also the addition of well illustrated diagrams, a few of which were animated to properly convey the motions it was meant to illustrate. Instead of the more classical story book style it had previously, it read more like simplified research notes written in a journalistic format. The first pages of the chapter describing a series of spells and their effects that the author qualifies as simple, in their opinion. Then in partially pointless tangent they write on the unnecessary elements of the traditional casting components of previously mentioned spells, ranting about how the simpler the spell effect the less necessity for what they describe as excessive spell components. Following which they make a note on the variety of excessive component use in almost all low gnosis spells across the world, a term that they didn’t mention elsewhere yet sufficiently intuitive to understand, before the author continued making their own speculations on the reasoning for the unnecessary component usage.
After a few more similar pages including a declaration to self to simplify some of the previously mentioned spells and reduce the component usage to the minimum, the author transitions seamlessly from a ranting diary entry to the complex deconstruction of spells. And despite the clear streamlining of the notes on the reportedly simple spells, Lasutro found the beginnings difficult to follow even as she finished reading the first and second spells. Although she couldn’t follow the deconstruction of the spell to its simplified form she felt that with some effort she could successfully cast the simplified version.
When Lasutro finished reading the simplification of the third spell and turned to the next page she found instead the first spell deconstruction, then the second before returning to their previous page. An increasingly familiar frustration at the magical tome rose in Lasutro’s chest for just a moment, but instead of letting it get the better of them she gave a deep sigh and closed the now repetitive pages,then returned it to its place in their bag.
When Lasutro raised their head back up towards the sky, their vision was filled by the shadows of heavy clouds, and their sinuses with the air of a coming storm. Fighting the powerful temptation of their new knowledge and their own curiosity, Lasutro redirected their attention to the caravan and the road ahead. While the thoughts, or rather impulses to perform their most intentional form of magic, still resided near the surface of their mind, a separate thought judged their environment to be a less than ideal spot to begin what would inevitably turn to experiments of sorts. A Judgment she found to be incredibly helpful in containing the impulse as she stared out at the land in front of them.
As the final streaks of sunlight were enveloped by the dense cloud cover and the acrid scent of the air around the caravan intensified, the caravan passed several different encampments of merchants all on their way from Traclins. To many members of the caravan it was a relief to know that the devastation that had faced them likely was just an incredibly unlucky circumstance, however to others including Lasutro, along with those other individuals who heard the whispers of the older merchants and the guards felt differently. They whispered about the attack as if it was targeted, the lack of other caravans on their journey being not coincidental. The more she heard a sharp thought struck them, that the creature she managed to wound if not kill, had been after the silver that hung around their arm,even if it didn’t know the danger it posed to itself and just as suddenly an understanding on why Gorv called it a burden settled in Lasutro’s mind.
When Lasutro pulled themselves from the fog that briefly clouded their head, she felt the first droplets of the rain upon their face, just as the pitter patter of rain filled the air. Although it might have been wiser to stop earlier in the day before the dark truly set in, the caravan trekked onward to its destination over the increasingly slick roads. As the Caravan continued, its path roughly illuminated by torchlight, the now heavy rain poured down upon them reducing the caravan’s visibility further, yet they pushed on, especially those who appeared worse for wear.
After about an hour more of travel,through the storm Lasutro spotted the slightly dimmed lights of the lighthouse of the city, a sight that was both a source of relief and frustration for them. Not long after the first fires of the city came into sight and the previous pace of the caravan was tossed aside, as one cart after another began to make haste for the doors leaving the slower walking members of the caravan behind. Though a couple of the guards on horseback kept pace with the individuals now behind Lasutro, most followed the carts, eager for the journey's end.
As the carts approached the gates of the city, their pace slowed into steady stop, and out from a small wooden door to the left the gates, came several guards. Each adorned in the expected leathers, the traditional crest of the Faemria empire upon their shoulders,though the clear leader of the group was marked by the thin but distinct purple inlay upon the crest upon their shoulder. A sight just visible under the fire light of the caravan’s torches and the lit braziers of the wall.
Just as they approached the caravan, the familiar, though now ragged, form of Fyair Quil intercepted them, their unbandaged hand filled by a series of scrolls he carried deftly despite the precarious method they were stacked. With a practiced haste he reached the imperial guards accompanied by one of the few relatively uninjured guards of the caravan and began what Lasutro assumed to be some of the standard bureaucracy of the empire plus the additional papers that might be required for the materials or items ordered by the empire specifically.
Following a few minutes of rain and cart inspections, at which time Lasutro had taken to standing to the side, the gates to the city opened and the caravan made its way onto the significantly more solid roads of Traclins. Lasutro followed behind the caravan for a while, splitting from them after the gates she entered were out of sight, thanking the driver of the cart she had rode in with a few silver pieces, then making their way through the city to find a nice inn. Hoping that a higher end one would be able to get them a healer and direct them to their goal within the city.